#also i told myself when i started liking the band that none of them is attractive and i am going to be completely normal

[ipsiducis]

#matt bellamy #muse #i am having problems #red hair #fffffuck #his hands are lovely #also his eyes #also i told myself when i started liking the band that none of them is attractive and i am going to be completely normal #this lasted until i listened to feeling good #muse band #what a cutie

[ghostofwriting]

Kildare Split Part Two: Place In Me

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Chapter 2: Place In Me

Note: Me: I don't know when I'll post chapter 2 maybe on the weekend but who knows. Also me: posts 3 hours after saying that. Once again I wanted to thank everyone for reading and interacting! I appreciate all of you so much. Not edited so be warned. I confused everyone with part 21 and this doesn't provide any answers! Just more context for other parts of the smau. Enjoy!

Warnings: none, bad writing, Rafe being mean, y/n being mean

Word Count: 3,371

Synopsis: Everyone has noticed that there's been a shift in how Kildare Split acts around each other. Rafe and Y/N used to be so close, they were always pictured together, and always shared stories of each other and for the last few years, there has been nothing from them. A behind-the-scenes look at what went down between everyone's favourite band.

She thought that she made herself clear and that they understood where she was coming from after her speech in the green room.

She’s not expecting Barry to be sitting on the couch of the tour bus she had chosen to sleep in, her hair sticking to her sweaty forehead from her run, slightly out of breath. 

When she opens the door and sees him sitting there, she jumps.

“Fuck, Barry what the hell?” Barry had a very specific regime for show days. He should’ve been napping on the other bus.

“We can’t go on hiatus. You’re being selfish.” She feels her ears start burning, she scoffs at him. 

“Selfish? You better be kidding me. The audacity of you to come in here and accuse me of being selfish?”

“Y-” She doesn’t let him continue.

“I have put up with this bullshit for two years, Barry! Just because I’m tired and need a break doesn’t make me selfish.”

“If you would just talk to him.”

“No. Fuck you. No.”

“If you talk to him, and he explains himself, you’ll understand and this can all go back to normal.”

“No. I will not fix this. I don’t need to fix this.”

“What happened to be there for each other?”

“Barry. You and Topper were supposed to be there for me!” She snaps, her voice rising.

“You were the only people who knew exactly what I was going through not only with Rafe but with the fame and the drugs and the people wanting things from me. You were going through it too, I know you were. But you abandoned me the second Rafe decided to what? Get in a relationship? You threw me away, I was so alone!” 

Tears are threatening to spill over now. She hates how she can’t get angry without crying. 

“I went through everything by myself and the people I thought were my best friends abandoned me. I get it okay. You chose your boy. But I thought I meant something to you. I thought I was your friend. He broke my heart and my spirit.” She stops to catch her breath, “I was a shell of a person and you still didn’t even ask me if I was okay. In two years you haven't checked in.”

“y/n..”

“He told me he didn’t want to live without me and the next day I found out he was seeing Sofia. And suddenly I wasn’t his friend or his bandmate or even a person. I was just someone he fucked. And I don’t care why he said that. I don’t care if he meant it or not or if he was lost and scared. He still said it. I’m done. I’m done with him, I’m done with this Los Angeles, I’m done. I don’t owe him anything. I don’t need to talk to him.” She finishes her chest heaving. Barry is staring at her, eyes wide.

“What does that mean?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll stay in the band. But it’s work. That’s all. We aren’t friends.” 

Barry’s silent. Still sitting on the bus couch. 

“Get out. Please.” 

+++

The early days of getting over Rafe were hard. She wanted to go back to who she was before him. The version of herself before she got involved with him. Journaling and writing song lyrics and poems could only do so much. Everyone told her that she needed someone else. She understood that but she didn’t feel like it. She wasn’t ready to get her heartbroken all over again. 

Not when she constantly got her heart broken on tour, not only when she saw Rafe making out with Sofia backstage but when Barry walked right by her without acknowledging her existence, or when Topper pretended not to hear her. Her heart cracked every time for the little girl who trusted these boys with her entire being and let them in only for them to stomp all over her. 

She spent endless nights on tour, alone in her hotel room crying at the top of her lungs and on the tour bus muffling the sound of her sobs with her pillow. So when people suggested she needed to meet someone to get over him, well, it didn’t sound like a good idea to just let someone else in to break her even more when they eventually left. 

It got better little by little, the heartache over her friends hating her. The heartbreak over Rafe choosing someone who wasn’t her, someone who was worth it. The loneliness never did. It was crippling how alone she felt. There were times when she wanted to go back to the drugs, drinking, and partying. She would feel so much better if she just couldn’t feel anymore. She didn’t go back on the promise that she made to herself. She would never be that afraid high out of her mind 17-year-old girl again. 

She isn’t sure if she gets over Rafe or if she learned to live with the pain. Sometimes she thinks she’s so angry at him and that’s the reason she doesn’t want him. She misses him all the time, she thinks she’ll miss him forever. At least who they were before they had sex and fucked it all up. 

She lets everyone know that when the time comes she’ll make them all aware. Cleo tells her that she better be the first one who finds out she’s seeing someone. She tells her that she wouldn’t have it any other way.

The day she met him was one of the most ordinary days she had lived in her entire life. She had woken up in her Los Angeles apartment, made herself breakfast, gone for a swim and gotten ready for the day. She didn’t have anything planned for the day, maybe tidy up a little, call Sarah, and run some errands. The craving to make brownies hits her out of nowhere, she doesn’t have any of the ingredients at her house though, the life of a touring artist. 

She’s leaving the grocery store with her reusable bags filled to the brim with all her cravings. She’s digging in her tiny pink purse that can’t hold anything for her keys when she drops two of her bags. 

She doesn’t want to get angry when she sees everything fall, she stares at it for a second, takes a deep breath and moves to pick it up. Once she gets everything together and packed up in her car, she decides that she needs a little treat for putting up with her groceries falling.

Her favorite pastry spot in LA is right by a hotel where all the celebrities who don’t live in the city full time. It’s usually a curse because everyone is hanging out or camping outside the hotel for a small glimpse of someone famous.

She thanks Caroline, the bakery owner and steps out of the store without looking at where she’s going. She feels herself collide into something strong and hard. Someone. Her pastries shake in the box. Of course, this would happen too. Why can’t she just keep herself from dropping her food today?

“I am so sorry.” She says to the man standing in front of her. He’s pretty, she thinks. Dark brown hair, almost black, brown eyes that look very familiar, and strong, and his arms are bulging where his black shirt sleeve ends. He’s hot. 

“Don’t worry, you’re fine.” She hears his friend behind say something in a different language and the man in front of her shakes his head and smiles at her. 

“Are they making fun of me for being a klutz?” He laughs. 

“No, they think it’s funny that I would run into my celebrity crush. Literally.” Any other time, if someone confessed that she was their celebrity crush, she would run so far so fast. Something keeps her there, smiling like an idiot, at a loss for words. She says the first thing that pops into her head.

“Have we met? You look familiar.” She feels like she’s seen him somewhere but she can’t place him. 

“Mira que te ha visto a través de la ventana.” one of his friends says, he shushes him not even turning to look. 

“I’m an actor?” He says it like a question, his cheeks flush, and he’s embarrassed. It’s endearing. 

“Yeah? Have I seen anything you’ve been in?” 

“I doubt it.” 

“So as your celebrity crush, it seems that I have a responsibility to watch whatever you’ve been in, don't you think?”

“No way.” He smiles at his friends doing a quiet chant of something behind him.

“No? Not even if you join me and walk me through it?” She knows she’s giving him eyes now, looking at him through her eyelashes, fluttering her eyelids a little too much. Her resolve is gone, she doesn’t know where her confidence is coming from and she’s going to use it until it’s gone. 

“We could arrange that,” he pauses, “Julio.” He extends his hand out for her to shake. 

“Y/N.” and maybe when she takes his hand she feels a shock run up her arm. 

Maybe she’s being dramatic and jumping the gun but what if everything she’s been through led her to this moment? Right here with him. 

+++

When Rafe finds out Y/N is seeing someone he tries not to lose it. He knows he has no right. His palms start sweating. He feels his breath shorten, he’s honestly a mess though he doesn’t show it. 

At least not until Topper pushes him on the subject when they’re left alone. 

“She’s seeing someone.” The room is eerily quiet, they’re in the studio recording their second album. Y/N had gone off to probably call her boyfriend and Barry was off doing who knows who.

“Yeah.” He’s short with his answer, scrolling on his phone to distract himself from the ever-intrusive thoughts of her her her. 

“You good?” No. No, of course he’s not good.

“I have Sofia.” Topper clears his throat and continues his torture on him. 

“Doesn’t answer my question.” 

“Yeah.” He looks over at Topper, his eyebrows lifting in acknowledgement.

They stay quiet for a few more minutes, the questions and thoughts and everything eating at him.

“Who’s the guy?” The question forces its way out of his mouth. He doesn’t want to know anything about the man that holds her heart.

“Some actor,” Topper responds nonchalantly, looking at him like he’s going to blow up if he moves anymore.

“Cool.” He wants to claw his heart out. What the fuck is happening to him right now.

“Rafe.” Topper isn’t convinced that it’s cool at all. Because Rafe can lie to everyone in his life but not Topper.

“No yeah, that’s cool. It’s great, yeah, good for her.” He knows he still doesn’t sound convincing.

“What are you going to do about it?”

“Let her be happy.” He’s going to be mature about this. He asked Sofia to marry him last year for god sake. If he gets to be happy, she does too. Is he happy?

“Rafe.” Fucking Topper and his questions.

“I’ve fucked her life up enough. She deserves this. Deserves someone.” It spills out of him again, his eyes meeting with Topper’s, begging him to stop. 

“Do you ever miss her?” Topper’s not showing him any mercy today, wanting to know everything he’s kept inside for the past two years.

“More than anything.”

“You fucked up” understatement of his life. He ruined her and in turn, ruined himself. He was stupid and selfish and he deserved the worst.

“Yeah.”

+++

“You have to apologize to her.” Rafe’s once again fiddling with his guitar. The arena is empty except for the techs playing with lightingThe stage had been set up the night before. Y/N was with Sarah exploring the city before she had to be back for soundcheck. Barry was taking a nap and Topper was being a pain in his ass. He tweeted some bullshit at him and Rafe had called him back to talk.

“I don’t have to do anything, she’s leaving.”

“Yeah because of you. Because of what you did to her.”

“I seem to remember that you were included in isolating her.”

“That only happened because she was so hurt she pushed everyone away and I thought I would make it worse by forcing her to talk. Anyway, that’s between y/n and I. You need to take responsibility, Rafe.”

“For what? It wasn’t my fault I didn’t love her.”

“Oh fuck off Rafe. You loved her. You were just scared.”

“Of course I was scared! It could’ve ruined everything. The band, our careers.”

“You shouldn’t have ever gotten involved.”

“I couldn’t help it!” He closes his eyes, doing the breathing exercises they taught him in rehab, in therapy. 

“Please, just talk to her.” 

“She doesn’t want to hear it.”

“You have to try!’

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“You won’t understand.”

“Try me.”

“Because I’m engaged. I’m with Sofia and I’m happy and if,” he breathes “if y/n were to even give me the slightest greenlight I would burn my whole relationship to the ground. Her whole relationship.” He says the last part under his breath, hoping Topper doesn’t hear it.

“What the fuck, Rafe?”

“I know.”

“Why now?”

“I did and said some shit back then to not fuck up the band. It was wrong, stupid and childish. It’s not a question of ‘why now,’ I never stopped.”

“You still love her.” Rafe doesn’t confirm or deny it. Topper shakes his head. 

“You need to apologize.” Topper leaves Rafe to strum his guitar in thought. 

+++

Everything changes when he comes into her life. It’s like she was living in this deep black hole of anger, sadness, and endless turmoil. He’s her calm. He grounds her and she feels like she can finally breathe. She hasn’t felt wanted in such a long time and even though they are long distance most of the time between his film schedule and her tours, she has never felt alone since meeting him. 

She has a video from him every time she wakes up in the morning. Sometimes it’s just him telling her something that happened to him during the day, or a funny story, and sometimes he sings. She wishes she could drop an album just to feature him on it. She wants the entire world to know that he’s hers and she’s his and she is so incredibly in love. 

It’s scary going from such a low to such a high. The extreme contrast is intimidating at times but she wouldn’t have it any other way. She learned what she wanted in a relationship from an extremely difficult situation and somehow it was all worth it as long as she got to have him in her life. 

They’re together for a year before it gets out. They chose to be private about their relationship, it’s easy when he’s halfway across the world most of the time. That doesn’t stop her from spending every single moment that she isn’t on tour or in the studio next to him in Spain, Italy, France. She loves him. She would do anything for him. She knew that he was the one three weeks into their relationship and when she told him and he told her he felt the same, it confirmed it.

It’s her fault it gets out, he said it was about time and he wasn’t mad about it at all. 

Sometimes she still finds that deep-seated anger she holds for Rafe bubbling over. It’s all-consuming and she can’t stop the venom that leaves her body.

When Rafe’s engagement gets out, she and Julio step out on a date night. Cleo calls the paparazzi for her. It’s a great plan until everyone is freaking out because they’re convinced she and Rafe were dating this entire time.

She loves her fans but sometimes the theories and threads get a little too much. Mostly because they’re correct most of the time. 

At first, she was scared of Julio seeing all those things and seeing how everyone wanted her and Rafe to get married. She was scared he was going to run away. It never seemed to faze him. He never not once doubted her. He understands how people get and believes her when she tells him she chooses him for the rest of forever.

+++

Topper’s words haunt him. He wants to apologize to her and give her and himself some form of closure. He doesn’t know how to approach it. They haven’t talked in years, not really. How does he talk to the person that he hurt so much?

He catches her after soundcheck one day, his wringing his hands together, riddled with anxiety. 

“Hey, Y/N?” He calls out after her as she passes him.

She slowly turns around and crosses her arms, raising her eyebrows at him in surprise. 

“What can I do for you?”

He gulps as she looks at him expectantly.

“I was wondering if you had listened to the album?” What? Why the hell did he open with that?

“Why would I listen to the album?” She asks incredulously 

“Well, because I mean it’s about,” he stumbles over his words, “I just wish you would listen to it and maybe hear me out.”

“You want me to listen to your album so that I can hear you?” She nods her head and puckers her lips. 

 “It’s so stupid that after all these years you can’t apologize to my face so you what? Make an album? Is your apology hidden in there somewhere?” 

“Yes-No, I just think that if you gave it a chance, we could talk about it.”

“You want me to pretend to give a shit about your album when you can’t tell me how you feel right now in person?” She’s laughing a little now. Shocked at his suggestion. He wants the ground to swallow him whole.

“Please, can you just listen?” 

“No Rafe. I am so done with this. I have been done with this. I don’t care about your album, I don't care about you.” Her words hit him like knives in his heart.

“Why do you care about my opinion about your album? Do you think I’m stupid? Do you think I don’t know that your album is about me? You called it Angel, Rafe! The fucking nickname that you gave me when we were 12 years old! I’m not some dumb girl who you can just manipulate and get whatever you want out of her. Not anymore. I am not that person for you.” She stops, her hands coming down from where she was waving them. He wants to say something but his mouth is dry and he has a ball the size of a grapefruit stuck in his throat.

“You made it incredibly clear to me that you don’t think of me as a person. Like- what did you say to me? That I’m just a fuck?” He grimaces when she throws his words from three years ago back at him. 

“Yeah, you said I’m just some girl you fuck, ‘you’re just some girl I fuck I don’t care about you.’ Sound about right?” He can’t move. He’s frozen.

“You could have worded it a million different ways and still gotten your message across. You could have been so much nicer. Let me down easy. Let me know in a better way that you found someone that you wanted to get to know. I would’ve put everything aside and just been your friend but no, you decided that I meant nothing to you, that everything we had been through, everything we had built, Our friendship was not important to you.”

 “Because I’m just someone you fucked. So, Don’t worry about me, don’t worry about my opinion because you’re just someone I fucked too and someone that I no longer care about. You are just my bandmate. You are just a coworker, I don’t think of you. I’m done with you. Keep your album. Good luck.”

He was so fucked. It would be a miracle if he ever got her to forgive him.

#kildaresplit au #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outerbanks au #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe cameron au #rafe cameron smau #sorry if you hate it #don't tell me if you do

[ghostofthemost141]

Custer

Pairing: Ghost x GN! Reader, no use of (Y/N), First POV

Word Count: 908

About: After an accomplished mission, Ghost is intrigued by the music he can hear you blasting in your earbuds.

Themes: None really, just a little drabble of Ghost and reader interacting.

Notes: The song featured in this short is Custer by Slipnot. Highly recommend it if heavy metal is your style! Nickname for this one is Puppy. Enjoy!

Cut cut cut me up and fuck fuck fuck me up

Cut cut cut me up and fuck fuck fuck me up

Cut cut cut me up and fuck fuck fuck me up

Cut cut cut me up and fuck fuck fuck me up

Cut cut cut me up and fuck fuck fuck me up

“Mission well done, everyone.” Price announced, gazing over all of us. 

Irreverence is my disease

It's secondhand, but you know me

The son of a bitch is on his knees

The last man standing gets no pity

We were currently heading back to our base and while everyone else was talking, I was destroying my hearing with my music. Couple of months ago, I joined Task Force 141, sworn in by Captain Price and so far I have enjoyed my stay here. Some missions are hard as fuck, take months and months to accomplish, while some others, like todays, only take a day or two to do and while I do love what I do, I also love being at our base. I keep to myself for the most part, whether I be walking outside or in my bunk reading a book while listening to music. It’s not that the guys don’t like me, I mean hell, they also invite me to play a game of pool or poker with them, most of the time I turn it down because I just want to do my own thing. You can’t really afford to make close friendships or even relationships in this line of work, you never know when something may happen to one of ‘hem. Soap can be an ass sometimes but he is cool and very outgoing. Gaz is the nicest of the lot, but can sometimes be too nice for his own good. Price is the definition of an old grumpy man, and can definitely act like one for sure, but he very much would take a bullet for one of us. Now Ghost, who happens to be sittin’ right next to me in this crowded vehicle, I haven’t figured out yet. He will mumble a hi if I am passing by or make a comment here and there, but he seems to be like me, likes to keep to himself. He is the closest with Soap by far, but even then I don’t really see them hanging around base as much as you think they would since they are close. 

You try so hard to be difficult

You want to win the war?

Know what you're fighting for

Hell yeah, it’s my favorite part. I began bumping my leg to the beat of the music as well as tapping my knee as if I was an old, country man in the West. 

Cut cut cut me up and fuck fuck fuck me up

Cut cut cut me up and fuck fuc-

I swear I felt someone nudge my shoulder, but I didn’t pay any mind to it as I immersed myself into my music. 

-k fuck fuck me up

Cut cut cut me up and fuck fuck fuck me up

Cut cut cut me up and fuck fuck fuck me up

Cut cut cut me up and fuck fu-

Okay someone is definitely tapping me on the shoulder. This better be good. I pulled my earbuds out in a huff. 

“You grumpy, Puppy?” A gravelly voice asked me. 

Ghost. I sneered at him a little bit for the nickname. For some reason, the task force came up with the nickname puppy for me. The reason for it? Well that I will never know they just started calling me that one day, around the time I first started. 

“Nope.”

“Seems like ‘t.” He remarked. 

“What is it to ya?” I asked. 

“You’re gonna damage ‘our hearing listening to that bloody music that damn loud.” He commented, his big blue eyes piercing into mine. 

“Oh so you’re the one that made me put my music away?” 

“Never told you to do that.” 

Dear lord, this man. As attractive he may be, he can be a real ass sometimes. 

“What song was it?” 

Ghost? The most grumpy British man to ever exist asking me about what I was listening to? I might as well be honored. 

“Custer by Slipknot.” I answer. 

“Slipknot? What kind of band is that?” Ghost asked. 

Is this really Ghost or did he bump his head during a mission or somethin’? 

“They are a heavy metal band that started in the mid 90’s. Custer is one of their most popular songs but it is one of my favorites.” I added. 

I could tell Ghost was processing what I said because he nodded his head in response and didn’t say a word back. So it’s up to me aye? 

“What kind of music do you listen to?” I asked him. 

“Hm. Some rock, some alternative, some reggae.” Ghost listed. 

“Reggae? Really?” I questioned, not expecting that answer. 

“Hey, don’t diss Bob Marley till you try ‘im.” Ghost remarked. 

“I’ll give him a try, L.T.” I said, shoving his shoulder with mine. 

I could see he rolled his eyes in response, but in a sarcastic way. 

“And I’ll Slipkno’ a try.” 

“SlipknoT.” 

“Don’t test me puppy.” Ghost growled a little, making me laugh, in which he eventually let out a chuckle. 

Ghost is definitely not as bad as everyone seems like he is, he just needs the right person to break down his walls. 

END

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #cod #call of duty #modern warfare x reader #cod modern warfare #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod mw2 x reader

[ghostlykeyes]

Hooray! Requests are open! And I rush like the wind into your abode with my idea! How about this idea? Heartsteel!Kayn x Gothic singer!Reader? Reader is the leader of the Gothic rock band the band. In their video, as well as in the songs themselves, there is a lot of gloom, mystery, and also a lot of creepy themes. There are a lot of cemeteries, abandoned buildings, etc. And in the main life Reader likes to visit cemeteries and abandoned buildings (just like me. Because there you can relax from the hustle and bustle of the city. Peace and quiet). In the clips, Reader often acts as a vampire. I would like to know the dynamics in their relationship) Thank you very much!)

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GIF by thedemonlady

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HEARTSTEEL KAYN: GOTHIC/SINGER PARTNER HEADCANONS ♡ Gender Neutral ♡ Light to mid-NSFW sprinkled throughout... couldn't help myself (but I KNOW none of you bonk-deserving DEGENERATES mind much 0-0 ) ♡ TW: Slight Sexual Content ♡Keyes write less than one thousand words about Kayn challenge (GONE WRONG) (GONE SEXUAL) (TOTALLY IMPOSSIBLE)

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KAYN

Yone's the one who "introduced" you to Kayn, in a way. After seeing one of your music videos, Yone had a feeling Kayn might like your style and sent him a link. What Yone didn't foresee was Kayn becoming instantly fucking obsessed with you. But how was he supposed to resist? You, with your blood red lips and your black lace everything and your haunting, creepy voice...how could Kayn be anything but instantly, painfully in love?

Since your group was much smaller than Heartsteel, it wasn't hard for Kayn to get you to notice him. Sure, maybe the guys teased him for DM'ing you around the clock and turning up at all your shows like a damn groupie until you told him he could take you out sometime...but he's the one who bagged the goth hottie in the end, so who's the real winner?

Kayn keeps a mini silver bat keychain clipped to his bag, a constant reminder of you. Even though your aesthetic is gloomy and, frankly, a little ominous, he still says that your little bat is his good luck charm.

Of course Kayn knows that you scream in your songs—he listens to them religiously, after all—but the first time he heard it in person? Holy shit, he got chills. He knows he shouldn't interrupt your band practice. It was already nice enough of you to let him sit in and listen. But he can't. fucking. help it. "That was the hottest shit I've heard in my life," he tells you after you finish the song. "You're so fucking cool." When the band takes a five-minute break halfway through rehearsal, Kayn tugs you into the nearest bathroom and shows you just how sexy he finds you. Needless to say, you get a bit more screaming practice than you bargained for...

Typically, Kayn prefers the stage to the crowd, but even he can admit that being in the audience at your shows is a really fucking good time. The low, moody lighting, the smoke machines belting fog across the stage, groups of your fans proudly sporting plastic fans and screaming the haunting lyrics to your songs? The atmosphere is fucking impeccable. Plus, in a crowd like this, he can easily get away with going full Rhaast. (He's even started a mosh pit or two...or more. Probably best not to keep track.)

Kayn's favorite part of your vampire-ensemble? A pair of silver tooth caps, shaped like fangs (naturally). When he steals you away from rehearsals or pulls you into a dark backstage corner after a show, Kayn's quickly licking his way into your mouth, tongue dancing along the edge of the metal. "Bite me," he often growls into the edge of your ear as you're kissing down his neck. At first you thought he was kidding, so you'd always give him a light nip and then find your way back to his hungry mouth. But, one time, he smacked your ass as you were working the soft flesh of his neck and you, surprised, really bit down—hard. The way Kayn squirmed into you, panting and whining as a dark bruise started blossoming to the surface of his neck, told you that's definitely what he'd been wanting all along.

Since Kayn's been in the industry for a long time, he's a lot more used to dealing with paparazzi than you are. Whenever you come to him for advice on dealing with the cameras and harassment, he scoffs, instantly annoyed. "Oh, those fucking assholes? If you get in their faces enough, they'll back off." Don't worry, though, he'll do the 'getting in their faces' part for you. If you're out with Kayn and the two of you start getting mobbed, he's not afraid to elbow a reporter or two, or break a few camera lenses. Your management is pissed by the bad press, of course, but it's done wonders for your privacy.

Kayn's favorite pet-name for you is his 'baby bat'. He often calls you that after you do something cute. "Ugh, my baby bat," he says, squishing your cheeks with his hand and planting a kiss on your puckered, smushed-together lips. "So fucking adorable."

Your music taste has earned you the great honor of sharing a Spotify account with Kayn. You're the only person he'd ever even consider allowing to add songs to his playlists, or influence what music the algorithm spits through the radio while he's driving. Just don't steal the account while he's listening (he gets pouty).

Whenever the two of you are hanging out Kayn tries to snag your notebook, flipping through for a glimpse at your newest song concepts or music video ideas. He can't help being curious! You're one of his favorite artists (the fact that you kiss him a lot helps with that), so he's always eager for a sneak peek at your next creative endeavor. Your brain fascinates him, and he can't wait to see what ominous project you put out next.

Anytime you've got a photoshoot, count on Kayn to show up. He loves to see you in full vampire-mode, looking flawless in you Tim-Burton-esque makeup and your platform boots. He's got an eye for edgy photography and iconography, too, so he's a great person to draw inspiration from (even if he tends to annoy the photographers—he's not afraid to tell them if their photos are shitty). Some of his best photo ideas? A boudoir-esque shoot centered around a velvet-lined coffin, a Halloween photo-set with charmingly-poorly-carved jack o' lanterns (carving credits to Heartsteel), a birthday party in a graveyard. Not all of his ideas are so extravagant, of course, and some of his best are the most simple. He's taken a simple shot of his neon eye that you loved so much, you made it the cover art for one of your singles.

Kayn has you saved in his phone under a black heart and a bat emoji.

While the graveyard might be a little too quiet and still for his tastes, Kayn's glad to accompany you on trips to abandoned buildings. He's committed arson in explored his fair share of old warehouses and factories, so he knows what to expect when the two of you break into an abandoned building on a date. He's got a full toolkit—flashlights, a crowbar, lockpicks. Whenever you've got to smash a window or crack a lock to move forward, Kayn eagerly volunteers to clear the way. "You know, since I'm a gentleman," he smiles, sweeter than sugar as he kicks down a door. (You have to physically restrain yourself from rolling your eyes at that.) The two of you spend hours wandering through old buildings on your days off, brushing through years of old, quiet dust. When it's time to leave, Kayn breaks a bottle of spray paint out of his bag. He always tags the building before you clear out, one little symbol for each of you; his Rhaast-grinned Heartsteel icon, and a bat next to it.

#heartsteel #heartsteel headcanons #heartsteel kayn #kayn #heartsteel x reader #kayn x reader #kayn/reader #sheida kayn

[justporo]

A Night of Song and Laughter (Part 8)

ATTENTION: There is some SMUT in this chapter, because Tav gets a little touchy and Astarion just pours oil into the flames - only lightly smutty though, because I like to be a pain in your ass, hihi.

There will be more smut in future parts that I will still have to write but let it slowly burn for now - I know you want it.

Also this is the last part leading up to my main idea for this story - the plot point I actually thought about when I started writing this and thought it'd be like a few thousand words adventure.

Btw, did part 7 yesterday go through okay? I felt like it didn't really show up for some time when I posted, eh. Anyways, if you missed it, it's on my blog of course.

A bit more is already up on AO3!

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Tav (You)

(Gif from here!)

You kept on drinking and talking. Teasing each other, pouring more shots. It really did feel like one of the memorable evenings you thought about when you first told Astarion about this place. The main act had started to play downstairs: a band of elves – a rarity in itself, but they were practically celebrities as Lira explained: a male drow bard with long sleek black hair playing the lute and singing with a dark and somber voice that had men and women in the audience swooning, a female wood elf bard with a violin with green skin and equally sleek but powdery-pink hair and the voice of an angel and three more equally beautiful elven musicians. All were precariously clothed, leaving little to none to imagination. Since they had started playing the mood in the tavern had dangerously shifted from drinking and laughing to people of all genders and races and combinations dancing and kissing and stealing touches they thought nobody would see.

With half the bottle gone you could certainly start to feel the alcohol doing its work: you felt pleasantly buzzed, also giggling more and batting your eyelashes more at Astarion - which might’ve been caused by the amount of drinks you’ve had or the seductive, pleasant music… or maybe it was just your fatal attraction to him and his very much encouraging and looks and touches.

While Daegin had been complaining about the last time he had visited his family for the better part of an hour, you started to get a little handsy with Astarion. Which prompted him to grab hold of your roaming hands. “Do you mind, darling?”, he whispered to you with a smile and pulling both of your hands to put them over his heart. You blushed shamefully, immediately worrying if you’d made him uncomfortable. You quietly voiced your concern to him and apologized for your indecent behaviour while Daegin complained loudly about his second cousin's awful wife.

The vampire laughed softly and lifted your hands to his lips to plant a gentle kiss onto them. “No worries, darling, if you’d ever really do something to make me uncomfortable, I promise, I wouldn’t hesitate to call you out on it.” He pressed another kiss onto your fingers. “I love when you show how much I am yours and that you can’t keep your hands off me, my heart, but maybe just for tonight, keep your hands out of my pants while we have an audience, alright?” You nodded but still felt a little bit ashamed of yourself, so you buried your face in his shirt. You mumbled something about respecting boundaries into his chest to which he pressed a kiss on the top of your head and held you for a moment. Daegin was still on about his relatives while Lira boredly dragged her shot glass around in circles by its rim and stared into nothingness.

After a few moments Astarion leaned down to whisper into your ear. “There will be no boundaries tonight though, when I’ll have you all to myself and remind you why it is that you can’t keep your paws to yourself”, he simply stated and then went back to holding you sweetly – as if he hadn’t just given you the most enticing promise you thought someone ever gave you. Very naughty thoughts started to race through your mind, prompting you to let go of Astarion and get at least a few inches between you – a much needed safety precaution. You poured yourself another shot and downed it immediately while you could feel the same pulsing sensation between your legs you’d last felt when he had you pinned against a wall only a few hours ago. The rough fabric of your linen blouse started to rub on the hardening tips of your breasts, your throat was bone-dry although you only had just drunk something. Astarion leaned on his elbows to grab the bottle of liquor and also pour himself another one while watching your face and giving you a dirty smirk. He did look like the personified sin right in this moment. Astarion’s eyes wandered to where your hardened nipples here now clearly visible through your shirt while he drank slowly. He licked his lips afterwards without stopping to stare but you saw how he rearranged his pants with his hands – only the slightest bit awkward. And when your eyes flicked down, you noticed that not only your arousal was pretty obvious right now. “I admit you make keeping boundaries pretty hard, my love”, he whispered under his breath. You stepped closer to him once more but not touching him. “Seems that’s not the only thing I make hard”, you whispered back while returning the dirty smirk he gave you moments ago and staring into his eyes confidently. His pupils diluted slightly at your words, but he held your stare without moving, positively becoming a statue.

Then you suddenly turned away from him and to the other two at the table, crossing your arms over your chest, breaking the spell. “So, what else is new?”, you asked suddenly and with a not-so-subtle note of hysteria in your voice. You had been way too close to just completely losing yourself right then and there; all because of some dirty whispers and stolen glances.

The half-elf and the dwarf, both well drunk - much more than you - had obviously been completely oblivious to the electric tension between you and the vampire – thank the Gods. Out of the corner of your eye you saw that Astarion had rolled up his sleeves and was leaning on his elbows again next to you.

“Well”, Lira drawled, now much less focused on niceties and political correctness, “have you heard that Cazador Szarr has kicked the bucket a few weeks ago? And his whole estate was looted. It’s been the talk of town for weeks.” That sobered you right up. This was the first time you heard that this had become public knowledge. It seemed Astarion and you had been well shielded in your domestic little bubble since you had parted ways with your adventurous little group and settled down in Baldur’s Gate.

You threw Astarion a concerned sideways glanced but to your surprise he seemed relaxed. Even more so, he was grinning broadly, mischief twinkling in his eyes. Daegin happily chimed in and gave you a rundown of different theories on his death: heart attack (“Nah, he was perfectly healthy, last thing I heard”, Astarion commented), poisoned by another noble family to gain his power (“Probable, but why loot his estate and why not keep his death a secret and pose as him, so much easier to take over his influence.”), tragic accident (“Unlikely, I heard he never even really left his castle.”). Astarion seemed more intrigued in adding to the gossip that you thought was clever. But hells, you would not stop him from talking shit about this fucking bastard.

“Do you want to know what I heard?”, Astarion said after Daegin had finished. He leaned towards them as if he was going to let them in on a secret. Lira, immediately intrigued, leaned over the table just as he did. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened slightly in anticipation. Even Daegin seemed immediately interested. There he went doing it again, Astarion and his damned silver tongue. You were about to join his act in whatever lie you thought he would fabricate from thin air, when he began: “I heard, he was secretly a vampire and was murdered by one of his own spawn because he’d made a deal with a devil to perform a horrific ritual that would have made him even more powerful and killed thousands of people!”

Your chin basically dropped to the floor but you were way too shocked to do anything else. Lira and Daegin mirrored your emotions perfectly albeit for different reasons. Did… did he actually just tell them the fucking truth?

The silence between the four of you kept dragging on. Astarion simply drank another shot of liquor, shrugged his shoulders and casually said: “It’s just what I heard.” You could simply blink at his nonchalance. Then Daegin broke the silence with deafening laughter, roaring and throwing his head back, slapping his thighs with his hands multiple times. Lira joined in but her laugh turned into a silly cackling chuckle that made her shoulders quake like she was losing her mind. You couldn’t join in, you were too starstruck by Astarion’s boldness. But neither was Astarion. He just threw you a defeated look that seemed to say ‘see? No one’s ever going to believe it’.

After several minutes of choking on their laughter they seemed to calm down. Lira had to wipe away tears from her eyes several times, the dwarf had started coughing horribly halfway through. When he had regained a bit of composure, he jumped off his stool, walked around the table and offered Astarion his hand – which the vampire took with a confused look. “I gotta hand it to you, elf, no one ever made me laugh that hard. Not even my own brother”, he said and shook Astarion’s hand, congratulating him.

“Tav, you really need to bring him when we go out drinking from now on”, the short man said and laughed again. This time you and Astarion joined in.

#astarion #astarion x tav #baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x oc #astarion x you #fanfic #fanfiction #astarion ancunin #bg3 spoilers #a night of song and laughter #poro fics

[bcacstuff]

Have you seen this tweet , would explain no pics of him actually competing. Hope she just made a mistake as that would be a rule infringement especially as his name and stats still appear on the results board .

https://x.com/elenacgg19/status/1764325898478551046?s=61&t=bKONqjAWo3C2lGx0FJnDkA

Yes, I saw that tweet, in answer to Tash (who graciously took the fan pic (which was actually a screenshot from a video) from my blog without any credit to where she found it or who's pic it actually was #justsaying)

I've silently watched the posts and the 'jumping to conclusions' yesterday (after I took the day to enjoy some sunshine and much needed vitamine D after all the rainy and dark days we had)

I looked things up, and at the same time enjoyed seeing the Dutch team NL being successful in Glasgow, which was a lot more fun to watch than all the shenanigans and narratives.

Anyway, here is what I saw and what I take into account on the different rumors:

The rules book and the terms and regulations show that a participant can change his/her registration up to one week before the event

From the FAQ

From the Terms and Conditions:

So yes, you can change the participant, but it should be no later than a week before the event, and no gender change.

As we found Sam's registration on 28 February in his name, no change could be done anymore. And we've all seen how the results have been posted in his name last Saturday.

So I informed myself by talking to people more familiar with rules and conditions for these sort of sports events, particular asked if it is allowed to let someone else compete in your name and slot. What I was told is with marathons it sometimes happens, but it's not really preferable as for the one who actually completes the race the result wouldn't show up on their record. Also took into account that for the Hyrox events, en overall ranking is kept in the records on someones name.

Another look at the rules and terms told me that upon check-in on the day of the event, a participant has to show his/her ID and registration confirmation

And you receive an timing chip and a wrist band for your start wave and category

So do I rule out he gave his slot and registration to someone else, and why didn't he post any pics, or was seen in any of the EDA guys who also were there (and tagged him)?

No I don't rule it out. In fact it might be an explanation (other than the ones trying so hard to make more of his connection to Sarah) why he was there and early on before his start wave. I keep the options open for now, and one of them is simply he could have gone there to ask the organization if they'd allow to let someone else compete on his slot. They might have agreed, though it would not be possible to make these changes online. Perhaps it's possible they show up later as changes, we've to wait and see. I mean, if he decided the day his condition wasn't good enough due to jetlag and one of his friends would like to compete instead of him, he surely would like to consult the organization and not bring his registration in jeopardy as it could bring him a penalty or even a ban from the events.

Sure, for people in the back, he stayed there and watch the races of other friends (Yes, there were friends from EDA who had their race earlier that day), including Sarah's. Though I do not think it was his voice in the video contrary to other opportunists. To me didn't sound like his accent. (but believe what you want).

More convincing to me is, he didn't hide his presence, took fan pics, and we've seen him in a video as well. No didn't look like he was in Sarah's section or solely there to support her. He's tagged in most of his friends footage they posted from the event. Valbo, Big Red, Tommy (who didn't compete but probably there as a spectator as well) and Valbo even tagged Big Red's and Tommy's wives. None of them tagged Sarah though, and Sarah followed none of them (something she would most certainly do when meeting them, she doesn't even follow Valbo). (let me just remind you the big deal people made of it how KE was followed by friends of Sam!)

Also, what this 'other blogger' doesn't tell you is the video Sarah posted, on her way to Hyrox Sunday in her car 14 miles from the venue as she competed in another race on Sunday. So romantici thinking about what or where she was on Saturday night, go figure... (people in the back his home isn't 14 miles from the venue) Nope, I already told you after (or during) GC, their mutual interest is fitness and both training apparently for Hyrox. And that is exactly what was shown Saturday, no more no less.

I feel disgusted though reading how this 'other blogger' is 'vetting' her source for her info on a romantic love story she wants to spin, who always miraculously turn up in her DMs after I posted the info (where were they before).... Oh yes she'll say I'm gnashing my teeth and am jealous... gosh if she only knew the real stories, I know who would be jealous. I'm just keeping a little more integrity and don't throw women under the bus like that. Even if I could so easily debunk her whole romantic notebook. But well, not necessary as it will debunk itself as usual.

The joke is on her, I wonder if anybody would have noticed him in the video during her race... or even the info about the villa they stayed in in GC, not to mention I'm quite sure she wouldn't have found it nor her minions (oops sorry 'team') who all so generously report to her what I post... I know where I find my info, where it comes from and what is true or not. I sometimes wonder what would be found if I don't post the reality out there to use as a base for all kind of narratives (on all sides tbh)

[psiithirisma]

AU where Phil is a single father of 3 and also owns a restaurant. Meets Kristin and falls in love but doesn't know how to "charm her" and neapolitrio (his kids) tries to help but they're little kids so it's all silly and cute.

Phil invites Kristin to a date in his restaurant after closing hours, she accepts. Then it's all just a nervous Phil + neapolitrio trying to create a romantic atmosphere and also one of them being the chef, one helping, and one the waiter.

He questions many /many/ times why he accepted to go with his boys' idea

Also, the 3 of them get Phil's instinctive dad side to show through the whole night by accident

little Tommy is the waiter and when he goes to ask them for their orders and is about to write them down he realizes he doesn't know how, so he asks Phil, who only sighs fondly and takes Tommy's notepad and pen and writes it for him. Kristin finds it adorable.

Tho the illusion is soon broken after Tommy thanks his dad and checks the notepad, frowns, and says out loud "dad I can't read this, your handwriting is shit!"

Phil, immediately: Tommy! Don't say that!

Tommy: what? Is true! You told us not to lie

Phil: no-

Tommy: am I not allowed to say bad things abt you in front of your girlfriend?

Phil: I meant don't curse.

Tommy: aw, that's not fair! you get to do it all the time.

Tommy: and Techno and Wilbur do it all the time when you aren't near!

Wilbur, from the kitchen: DON'T SNITCH YOU RAT!

Phil, whispering while he covers his red face: for fucks sake...

Tommy: see!!!

Tommy goes back to the kitchen shouting "Wiill, what does it says here? dad's handwriting is  dog poop!" which only gets more giggles from Kristin and for Phil to press his hands harder against his face.

That embarrassing bit over, Kristin and Phil move on and keep talking. But then you can hear from the speakers a young voice (Wilbur) whispering "it's this on? [Louder] Hello, dadza and Kristin! we made our own cool song for you lovebirds, wink".

It's followed by a song with really bad quality audio, bc none of them could figure out how to put a song properly so they just kept the speaker open meanwhile Wilbur leave the song playing through his cellphone.

This song is just some cover from an already existent one except for some parts being changed to Phil's and Kristin's name to, y'know, make it more romantic.

Phil considers death would be a kind fate at this point for him.

When the song ends, quick steps can be heard and the next second Wilbur is at their table, smiling wildly and asking Phil if he liked the song

Dad mode kicks in and all previous embarrassment almost seems like it never existed from the start

Phil: you have been improving a lot, well done, I loved it

Wilbur, beaming with joy: I learned it all by myself too!

Phil: wait all by yourself?

Wilbur: (intense nodding)

Phil: aw, mate! I'm so proud of you

Wilbur goes to the kitchen, celebrating after Phil's compliments.

Phil and Kristin go back to chatting, this time a little more at ease and without many interruptions, soft sounds emanating from the kitchen.

That's it until Techno shouts Phil's name and Wilbur is at the kitchen's entrance calling for Phil at the same time with a panicking expression.

Phil excuses himself and gets up from his seat at the speed of light to the kitchen. His ears are met by the sound of sniffles.

There, in the kitchen, he can see Techno kneeling in front of Tommy trying to calm him down while he holds Tommy's little hands gently.

Wilbur explains that Tommy was helping them cook by peeling potatoes but cut himself accidentally and now he's bleeding and they didn't know what to do nor where are the band-aids

Phil, being the only man ever, sorts the situation easily. Telling the twins where the medical kit is while he takes Tommy in his arms and washes the blood away with cold sink water, cradling him to console his youngest's sobs.

Soon enough Tommy it's all patched up (they only cleaned the cut and put a band-aid on it) but doesn't let go of his dad so Phil just kinda accepts this is his new lifestyle.

He's about to come back with the little blonde to his and Kristin's table but then realizes the woman admiring the scene from behind the counter. Phil is halfway mouthing an apology until Kristin seems to land on something and alerts them about the smoke coming from the stove.

They turn to look at it and oh yeah there's smoke coming from the stove oven...

When they open it, the family are met with more smoke that only gets Techno coughing and his face tainted with gray and the entire kitchen clouded. Oh there's also fire.

Kristin is this time who handles the situation, taking the emergency fire extinguisher from a wall near and putting out the fire, telling the twins to open the windows to clear the place of smoke.

After that Techno is already apologizing, embarrassed that he forgot about the chicken in the oven and also miscalculated the temperature.

But Phil just hugs him (the best he can without squeezing Tommy between them) and reassures him it's okay, that he appreciates that Techno tried and the only thing he cares about is that all 3 of them are okay.

Techno seems still unsure but any uncertainty he had is washed off when he feels Tommy's little hand giving him some comforting pats on the top of his head.

Wilbur breaks the tender moment by saying "unlike you pair of losers I did everything right so I think I just deserve a hug for awesomeness” which makes Phil laugh and both, Techno and Tommy, flip him off.

Tommy also shows him his tongue, y'know, for a double offense.

They get scolded (“kids, don't flip your brother off”) and Wilbur joins the hug, against Tommy and Techno's wishes.

Phil (with Tommy still in his arms) and Kristin return to their table, followed by two tired twins who just pull some chairs near them, sitting next to Phil, each on each side.

Kristin and Phil look at each other in silence, both tired but smiling.

“Pizza?”.

“Pizza”.

#long post #sbi au #sleepy bois inc #sbi #tommyinnit #technoblade #wilbur soot #philza #kristin trixtin #sbi family au #sbi family dynamic #fluff

[windvexer]

dear chicken, if its not too much trouble, could i ask for your advice on a situation that's troubling me a lot as of late? my spiritual practice has been suffering due to my being torn between so many different interests and areas of hyperfocus, and i'm unsure how to reconcile all the different things that i'm drawn to but are so culturally different. for example, i'm in love with traditional english folk magic/witchcraft, and have done a lot of research on the regional folklore of places my ancestors are from. at the same time, however, i'm also in love with orphism, and feel no greater contentment and purpose than when i dream about devoting myself to the greek gods. to say nothing about historical/cultural differences and potential disrespect (ancient greece having very different ideas on what constituted "witchcraft" and whether or not it was hubris, for example) i'm just not sure how to even go about reconciling how these would work together as part of a practice. genuinely, i feel distressed, stuck, and as if i am simultaneously letting down my ancestors /and/ those who historical practices i have put on a pedestal.

Hi, Anon.

Do you think it's possible that you might have very unrealistic standards for what it actually means to practice your faith?

Because, please forgive me if I'm wrong, but I have a sneaking suspicion that you might be making up a ton of rules for yourself.

Have your ancestors visited you and told you they would be disappointed in you if you practiced anything other than English folk magic? If so, why do you hold their opinions to be higher than your happiness? If so, what steps have you taken to reconcile your relationship with your ancestor and reach a place of mutual understanding so they won't be upset with you for doing what makes you happy?

Approximately one billion modern witches practice witchcraft and intentionally include the Greek gods in their witchcraft, or, have a faith centered around the Greek gods and practice witchcraft on the side. A Greek goddess has personally helped me with my witchcraft even though I'm not even a pagan.

Is there anything that makes you feel that you in particular would disrespect the gods by doing this, even though other people do it and it improves their relationship with the gods?

(I also just now remembered Hekate, isn't she like, the highkey Greek goddess of witchcraft? Why wouldn't she want you to both venerate the Greek gods and practice witchcraft?)

If the gods have told you that you can't practice folk magic without disrespecting them, what steps have you taken to understand why they have this special rule for you that they do not have for other people? Have they told you that this is temporary, or permanent? When you've offered solutions, what did they say?

And if these assholes are all banding up on you telling you that you can't do what makes you happy and weaponizing their disappointment to make you fall in line, why do you want to work with any of them at all? You deserve better.

But, Anon, I secretly suspect that none of that has happened. I suspect that you might have just made up a lot of rules for yourself and decided everyone will be mad at you unless you dedicate yourself to 1 thing and do it 100% perfectly.

I'm not saying that sometimes ancestors don't bully people into following a certain path, or that gods ask for very special levels of devotion once your relationship gets to a certain point. But I'm also not suspecting that this is the case for you.

It's just that, I dunno. To me it sounds like you're acting like any particular path you take is like locking yourself inside of a monastery to the exclusion of all else, like instead of starting out chill, you're wanting to start out as a devotee initiate ready to take lifelong vows.

Instead of just like, praying to Hermes to help with traffic and then later that week giving your ancestors a meal.

You're saying you don't know how this would look in practice, which makes me worry that you're trying to write a textbook about how to do your practice without ever actually having learned the material.

You can never know what it looks like before you do it.

You are not supposed to able to envision a complete, polished pathway before you put your hiking boots on.

You don't even need to be able to see around the first corner.

Toad charm to cure a cold, veil to limit Miasma. Pray to the ancestors, then to Zeus. I don't see the conflict. And if Apollo gets mad at you for doing your ancestral coffee grind readings because it isn't Greek enough for him, sort that out when it happens.

But wait until it happens before you worry about it.

#answered

[writtenbymisunderstoodnerds]

It's time they knew (Tobin Heath x Reader)

Based on this request. I'm sorry for how long this has taken me to finish, but I hope you like it!

I'm slowly working my way through my requests. Things might take a little while now that I'm studying for the next couple of months and it's getting closer to winter which is the busy season at work. Please bear with me!

Words: 1.6k

Tobin and I were kicking the ball around as I told her about my plans to reveal my identity. I was predominately a soccer player, but I was also a singer. No one knew who I was, no one knew I was the person behind anónima. We did songs ranging from pop to country, millions of people followed us, came to our concerts and bought our music, but no one knew who I was, who my band was. It had started as a way to put my music out there without drawing attention because I had massive stage fright. However, I was starting to entertain the idea of revealing who I was. 

"Are you sure about this baby? It's going to bring a lot of attention."

"I think so, I mean I already get attention and I'll get even more once I start with the team and when we go public. It feels like it's time, but I'll decide for sure tomorrow."

"Whatever you decide, I'll support you 100%. Can I bring the team? I know you're starting with us next week, but I would love for them to finally meet you as my girlfriend. If you decided to reveal yourself that it. Also they love you."

"Of course you can Toby. I would love to finally meet the team properly." Due to mostly playing internationally and only recently deciding to return to the US, I hadn't been called up until now. Not that I really minded too much, I was only 26, there would be the opportunity for plenty more camps in my career. It did mean I hadn't really met any of the national team. I guess it would be good to meet them before camp. 

My concerts had always worked on a trust sort of system. I didn't wear a mask or anything. The stage was dark, only just light enough that my band could see, but no one could see them. I stood at the back, away from the light. All it would take was a torch or light source to reveal our identities. Over the years I had gotten more comfortable on a stage and with my fans. Moving around and interacting with them more. I still hadn't decided if I was going to reveal myself, but the stage crew knew that if I moved to a certain point on the stage then they would turn the lights on. Of course I had also discussed it with my band since they weren't known either. They had left it up to me to decide which made it even harder. 

As I sung the first couple of songs, I watched the crowd dance and sing along. Seeing the happiness on peoples faces and knowing it was because of us was my favourite part of concerts. I found myself wishing I could join in dancing around and interacting with them more, instead of trying to stay in an area they wouldn't see me. 

Once the song ended, I spoke up, "Let's talk for a minute. I wanted to thank each and everyone of you for coming out and supporting us even though you have no idea who we are. None of this would have happened without you guys. So, as a way of thanking you, here's a new song I've been working on."

I always thought I'd be a rambling girl Living in the moment, never making plans Finding love was just a dream I was having Written in the movies, never thought it would happen

I try to fill my loneliness with whiskey And empty nights with different girls that never missed me Funny how when you least expect it Everything can change

Baby, it's you I've been looking for I knew right from the second you came walking through that door It feels so right when you're in my arms Darling, it's you I've been looking for

During the brief instrumental, I took a deep breath, moving forward on the stage. As I started singing the next line the stage lit up, cheers and screams louder than I had ever heard filled the stadium. 

You know I love it when your hair's a mess The way you shine when you wear that dress Girl, I don't think that you understand You make me a better person

Baby, it's you I've been looking for I knew right from the second you came walking through that door It feels so right when you're in my arms Darling, it's you I've been looking for

Just like blue on the sea Our love won't fade, it's evergreen Girl, the best part of me Is you

My attention was solely on Tobin as I sung the last verse. None of this would be happening if it wasn't for her. My first concert would never have happened without her encouragement and support. The many nights spent with her sitting quietly beside me as I wrote new songs because she knew it helped calm my mind enough to let my ideas flow. She had been by my side through it all, without hesitation or judgement. 

Baby, it's you I've been looking for I knew right from the second you came walking through that door It feels so right when you're in my arms Darling, it's you I've been looking for I sat down on the edge of the stage, taking a moment to compose myself as the cheering started to die down. "Surprise! That happened. Honestly, I was kind of torn about doing this. The secrecy behind it makes it fun, it keeps things interesting, but I also wanted to do something to thank you for the unwavering support I receive. Enough of my droning on though, I think it's time to introduce myself. I'm Y/n, behind me I have my amazing band. Guys, give a wave with your name so they know who you are. We've got Jason, Mason, yes they're twins, last but not least we have Abby. Thank you for coming to our show. Stick around because we're just getting started."

---

The show had ended a little while ago. The band and I had finished our post show debrief and showers. They had gone to pack up their gear while I waited for Tobin. She was going to wait for the crowd to calm down before making her way out the back with the team. I had played with or met a few of them through club matches in the limited time I played in the states, but a lot of my professional career was international. 

Before my nerves could grow any further, voices from down the hall caught my attention, "Tobin what's going on? I don't think we're allowed back here."

"Just wait and see."

I laughed to myself at the irritation lacing Tobin's voice before the nerves started rising again. I could sing in front of thousands of people without worrying, but I was terrified to meet them. They were important to her, they were going to be my team soon and I wanted to make a good impression. I took a deep breath, before putting on a smile as the numerous girls walked through the door, most of them freezing when they saw me. 

Tobin wrapped her arms around me, placing a kiss on my lower neck, "You did amazing, I'm so proud of you."

"Thank you my love."

"Wha-" One of the girls started but cut herself off. I chuckled quietly, pulling away from Tobin. 

Christen hugged me quickly. With her being Tobin's bestfriend, I had met her pretty early on in our relationship. We got along great, but she also didn't know about my singing career, "Well this is a surprise."

"Yeeah, sorry I didn't tell you soon-"

"You don't need to apologise Y/n. I get it."

I was reminded of the people behind me when the sound of slapping started. Many of the girls still looked stunned, while a few of them were hitting each other and pointing at me. It was actually quite entertaining, but I decided to speak up and put them out of their misery, "Hey, I'm Y/n."

"Don't just stand there, introduce yourselves." Tobin spoke up making some of the girls snap out of it and introduce themselves one at a time. Then they launched into multiple different questions, "Slow down, you'll be seeing Y/n often. You don't have to ask a million questions right now."

"Wait what? How? Why?'

"Y/n is my girlfriend and she's the newest addition to the team as of next week."

"She is?" Emily asked still looking like a deer in headlights, "You're a soccer player?"

"Yes."

"You've known who she is and you didn't tell us? We talk about her all the time."

Tobin shrugged, arm wrapping around my waist, "It wasn't my place to tell you who she was. I know you love her music, but just remember Y/n will be your teammate and friend, don't just treat her like the singer you love."

"We will, it's great to meet you Y/n. Although I think we've played against each other a couple of times."

"You too Ali. I'm pretty sure we have, quite a few years ago now."

We talked for a while. The girls getting all the questions they had about me as a singer before moving on to questions about Tobin and I, my soccer career and anything else they could think of. I was a bit surprised how fast they went from being amazed at meeting me to just treating me like someone on the team. Honestly, it was a relief. I had been worried about how they would react and treat me if they knew who I was. I guess that was another thing I should be thanking Tobin for. The band had come and talked with us for a while before we all parted ways. There was only so much social interaction I could handle. With the show and meeting the team, I was exhausted. 

I crawled into bed as soon as we got back to our apartment while Tobin went to shower. Arms wrapped around me from behind as I was on the verge of sleep. "I'd say that went pretty well."

All I could do was mumble out a 'it did' before pulling Tobin closer. I could feel Tobin laughing as she placed a kiss on my cheek, "I love you baby."

#uswnt imagines #uswnt imagine #uswnt x reader #tobin heath x reader #tobin heath imagine #tobin heath

[blushweddinggowns]

Dustin Henderson was not, or would ever be, a cool guy. If anything he was a certified dork, but oh well. He knew that, and he had accepted it. It used to bother him a lot more, being aware that he would never be a part of the popular crowd. He was too weird, his interests too niche. Not to mention his condition. That had been a bitch to deal with, physically and socially.

But the thing was, despite his own uncool factor, he had the coolest older friends. Like, ever. There was Steve, who somehow managed to give him girl advice that worked, despite the fact he’d never been with one. Girl advice that definitely helped him land the best, prettiest, and smartest girlfriend in existence. 

And then there was Eddie, the coolest Dungeon Master to ever exist. Something that Dustin didn’t even feel guilty saying, not when Mike was his biggest fan. He was insanely creative. And he was also in a freaking metal band? And let him and all of his nerd friends come to one of his shows at the Hideout? He was also like, one of the most avid readers that Dustin had ever met, whether that be through fantasy or history books. And he knew like a shit ton about politics, even if it was only to have stuff to back up all of his anti-establishment ideals. He was so freaking smart, maybe not in like, science or math and all of the stuff Dustin was good at, but everything else? Genius, or at least in Dustin’s opinion. Maybe not necessarily his level of genius, but he was still up there. 

Which begged the question, why the hell did a guy like that have to redo his senior year? Especially since Steve had managed to graduate. 

Dustin loved Steve, he did. And in no way did he think that he was dumb. He was just smart in different ways, like having great instincts and kinetic skills. Well… he did do stupid shit but like, in a smart way? Maybe? Dustin wasn’t quite sure how to categorize his favorite weirdo. But one thing was for sure: if Steve could do it, why couldn’t Eddie? 

He doesn’t ask right away. He’d become a little bit more self-aware over the years, and he knew waltzing right up to him and asking, Hey, if you aren’t stupid then why can’t you finish highschool? was not a good idea. But he does wait for an opportunity. Because Dustin is Dustin and works in almost all accelerated classes, he actually managed to share two of them with Eddie. And it’s not until he forces Eddie to be his lab partner in Chemistry when he starts to get it.

It’s not that he’s stupid, he just literally can not pay attention. 

“Dude, come on!” Dustin groaned, head in his hands in front of his open textbook, “How are you not getting this?”

He could fucking hear the ghost voice of Steve in his head, bitching at him for his tone, but this was just to frustrating. And Eddie’s nonchalant attitude wasn’t helping things. 

Eddie shrugged, too busy spinning his keys on his finger instead of actually reading what was in front of him, "Told you you didn't want me as a partner."

Dustin could feel his eye twitch and if Steve wasn’t in the other room, he probably would be yelling in frustration at this point. But the last thing he needed was to end up under Steve’s armpit for a well-deserved noogie. 

“I just don’t get what the problem is!” Dustin groaned, “Like I know you’re not stupid, so why are you acting like it?”

Eddie glared at him, feet propped up on the table, “Rude.”

“Well it’s true!” Dustin hissed, “Seriously dude, what the hell is the problem?”

Eddie sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, “It’s not that I can’t understand. I just… can’t make myself care.”

That was weird. Dustin cocked his head at him, confused, “What does that mean?”

“Like…” Eddie tried, struggling for the words, “It doesn’t grab me? I don’t know, but I can read a paragraph and have none of it stick, no matter how many times I go over it. And you’re right. I’m not stupid, But if I’m not interested it’s like… my brain stops working. I don’t know how else to explain it.”

That… actually made more sense than Dustin had been expecting. He was pretty damn sure he could work with that, “So we just need to find a way to make it interesting to you right?”

Eddie raised a brow at him, “I guess?”

Yeah, he could definitely work with that. He sent Eddie to the other room, to do God knows what with Steve before getting to work. It was kind of a big project to randomly take on during the middle of a Sunday, but he managed. He might not have been as good an artist as Will, but he could at least add a decorative flair to it. 

Three hours later and two check-ins from Steve and he was done. He nearly skipped to the living room, too excited to even roll his eyes at the way both of them were shamelessly tangled on the couch together.

He skidded to a stop in front of them, proudly displaying his newly titled notebook, “Tada! The world’s first Dungeons and Dragons themed study guide!”

Was that a nerdy thing to say? Maybe, but Dustin didn’t care. He was proud of this one.

Eddie sat up, wide-eyed as he plucked it from Dustin’s hands while he explained what was inside, “So I set it up with a guide to translate real world chemicals to potions in the game right? And then the formulas are written here but the problems are all worded like you’re trying to do alchemy in the game. And here….”

He explained the whole thing, his smile growing as Eddie got more and more excited. Steve looked… happy for them? Even if he was slightly judging, just a little bit. But there were some things that jocks would just never understand. 

Besides, it did work. And it worked pretty damn well in Dustin’s opinion. He was the only one that Eddie even let try to tutor him, because he was the only one who actually understood his problem, despite how clearly Eddie was able to put it. 

It definitely made him feel special, because he was special. Eddie even said so, beyond grateful that he found himself able to pay attention to his hard subjects for the first time in… ever. It was the least he could do. Especially since he was dealing with what was probably the only school year in his life to have zero bullies. And he knew it wasn’t because everyone in highschool was magically more mature. He’d walked in on an insane amount of swirlies and heard too many insults hurled at other kids to think otherwise. But luckily enough for him, people just… stayed clear of Eddie. Like he was actually scary or something. And… okay. Maybe he was a little. But only when he was like, insanely angry. Like rabid-dog angry, but that wasn’t an everyday thing. Though that didn’t stop everyone else from avoiding Eddie and most of his friends like the plague. 

But Dustin was lucky enough to fit in a little better, which was good for all of the extracurricular shit he had to do with random people. It helped that he was friends with Lucas, who was bordering on the edge of just being completely normal, the traitor. And getting rides to-and-from school from Steve himself was also a major plus. It wasn’t like the equivalent to having a car, but it was close enough. And a surprising amount of girls were silly enough to think they could have a chance with him. Which was kind of insane, considering how he really never tried. 

Dustin considered the world lucky that Steve turned out to be gay. Otherwise he’d be too powerful. How would anyone else have a chance?

And weirdly enough, the random crushes actually worked in Dustin’s favor. At least when it came to random project partners and tiny club elections, but still. It was nice to have friends that were so cool. Cool enough to make Dustin not feel like a weirdo among his other peers for the first time in his life, while not having to change a single thing about himself. 

It was nice. Really, really nice. So yes, Dustin Henderson was a dork. But now he was a dork with an edge. 

from the latest chapter of this fic

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #the universe trapped in your skin #dustin henderson #i think these are just short enough to work for the tumblrs #not that it's stopped me before #steddie childhood friends au #and shhh im an art student don't question the non existenet chemistry #its fiiiine

[deathofpeaceofmiiind]

messier // one

Tell me, tell me, something that I don't know already cause baby, you can talk in circles for hours, make a good day sour

I woke up around 9am on my day off, feeling the sunshine through my window. My body cracked and popped as I stretched before rolling out of bed. I was so drained from my last set of shifts that all I wanted to do was lay in bed, but I had practice in an hour. I made my way down to the kitchen, poured myself some coffee before I sat down with my sister Olivia. Her brown hair was up in a messy bun and she wore workout gear, probably off to another pilates class.

My sister and I were complete opposites. She was quite girly and loved everything pink, I preferred purple and watching sports. While her hair was a nice chocolate brown, I dyed mine jet black all the time. Her skin was golden with freckles while mine was freckled and kissed with tattoos. She’d ask me to wear a dress and I’d wear one…as long as I could wear it with a pair of vans. Only thing we shared was our bright green eyes and sarcastic attitudes. “Are you going to eat?” “Nah.” I yawned, “I’ll eat after practice.” “I don’t know how you can practice on an empty stomach. I’d be throwing up halfway through.” “You just learn to keep it down.” Olivia laughed as I took a sip of my coffee. “What’s on the schedule today?” “Nothing really, Carson has practice tonight at 7pm.” She replied before a deep groan escaped her, “I can’t stand the new assistant coach he has this season though.”

My eyebrow raised, I had seen so many new people at the rink lately so I had wondered if I had run into them yet. “Who is it again?”

“Ugh, his name is Matt or Mark I can’t remember.” Olivia said rolling her eyes, making me chuckle a little bit. When she didn’t like someone she wasn’t scared to express it. “He plays on his own team and I guess he’s in a band now so I can tell he doesn’t really care. He’s been hard on Carson for no reason.”

“I can take him today if you want? I’ll gladly give this guy a piece of my mind if he starts anything.” I offered as I finished my coffee. I wasn’t about to let some moron be a bully to my nephew.

Olivia licked her lips as she flashed her eyes at me, gearing up for backhanded comment. “Not sure how helpful you’ll be because he’s definitely your type...he’s an asshole.”

“That used to be my type.” I protested but she just got up and shook her head at me. I had to admit, men who had big ego’s and were total douchebags used to drive me crazy. It had also been so long since I’ve been attracted to a man so I have no idea what my type is now. Dating hasn’t crossed my mind once since I moved here.

“Okay, I’ll see if that still holds true after you see him.” I rolled my eyes and went to get ready for practice. I threw on some leggings, a white tank top with a Dallas Stars hoodie over it. I said goodbye to Olivia before I stuffed my feet into my slides before heading out to my car. For the first time in a while I was dreading practice. Part of me just wanted to stay home and say I was sick but, I had this gut feeling that I should go anyway. 

Fuck, I wish I stayed home.

The rink was busy when I got there, and a little too loud for my liking. Normally the noise level didn’t bother me, but it was louder than usual. We usually practice when the kids were in school so I was confused why it was so full for a Friday. I turned towards the dressing room and saw all the girls standing outside of it with their gear. None of them looked happy at all. “What’s going on?” “One of the boys teams didn’t get the memo we have practice now so they’re taking their time leaving.” Stacie replied looking at her watch. “I told Taylor to not say anything, but she did anyway…so now we’re paying for it.” “Who is it?” I asked as I mentally listed all the teams who played here. “The spitfires. They have some new guy who ditched his other team to join them. He’s …” “Hot?” Stacie shook her head, “kinda, but he’s such a dick. He coaches one of the bantam teams and he’s also in a band.” As I was about to reply to her all the guys walked out, looking us up and down. One of these had to be Carson’s coach. I felt uncomfortable getting stared at like I was a piece of meat so I crossed my arms over my chest. They all left one by one but the last guy came walking out like he owned the place, causing a chorus of eye rolls from all of us. My breath hitched as he got closer to me and our eyes locked, making me realize they were brown with flecks of gold. His light brown hair was tucked under a hat, just sitting below his shoulders. I didn’t care for men with long hair, but his was doing something to me. 

Fuck he was hot.

“Nice hoodie.” My eyes flashed down to my hoodie and back over to him, noticing he was wearing the same one. My face grew hot watching him take a final look at me before walking away.  

“See what I mean?” “Yeah…total dick.” I muttered but I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. I watched him until he was out of my sight, walking into the dressing room knowing I’d be focused on anything but hockey.

#fanfic #bad omens #matt dierkes

[heyidkyay]

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

Part Twenty-Four - Part B

A/n: Hey, Part B is finally here!! It was a struggle to write but I'm so grateful to know that a lot of you were looking forward to it! Means so much. Again, like the previous part, this will be a collection of flashbacks! Please read the warnings on this one! Hope you enjoy 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: Lots of swearing as per usual, talks and acts of violence, abuse and sexual assault mentioned, description of sick/blood

Masterlist

“London?”

I nodded, eyes fixed firmly on the hands I held in my lap.

“London?!” Matty exclaimed again, only louder this time. He’d stopped pacing to stare down at me. The rest of the boys who had gathered on the sofa were all strangely quiet.

“Yeah, Matty. London.”

“The fuck she want to send you there for?” He argued back, and although I knew his anger wasn’t directed towards me, rather the situation at hand, I still couldn’t quite look him in the eye. 

Things at home had gotten… worse. Not that I’d ever let them know. And although I didn’t want to leave the lads for the summer, I didn’t think I could handle staying there another second longer.

“My nan’s down there. Reckons it’ll be good for me, to get away.” I told him in reply, unable to help the small shrug I gave before I begun biting at a loose thumbnail, “It’ll only be for a week or so.”

“But, but what about the EP? And our gigs!” Matty fought back and, honestly, I was all too thankful for the moment when I heard Hann intercept the start of what would only be another long spiel.

“It’s not like she can really tell her mum no, mate. Besides, it’s like she said, it won’t be for long. We’ll still have the rest of the summer.”

Hann looked around at the rest of the boys, hoping to see their nods. He sighed when Matty only continued on, as though he hadn’t even said a word.

“You can stay here! Lou’ll be in Spain with Dad, Mum’s still filming so she won’t even notice- not that she’d mind.” Matty started to plan, glancing towards the rest of the room for some sort of approval. “It’s a good idea, ain’t it? That way, we can all still be together.”

I exhaled, not quite a sigh, “And what do I tell my mum, when my nan phones her up and asks why I’m not there?”

Matty groaned in agitation. “Tell her to piss off! And that you’re spending the summer with your mates.”

I wish it was as easy as that.

“Matt.” Ross cut in with a certain gruffness that made Matty pause. Ross turned towards me afterwards but I couldn’t force myself to look back at him, eyes trained somewhere to the left of his head.

Ross wasn’t stupid, I knew that much. In fact, none of the boys were. But Ross was also obnoxiously observant, more so than most, and I knew that during the last few months he’d been taking notice of more things than not. He was catching on. Brushing off my excuses. Listening to the lies I weaved into truths and narrowing his eyes. He knew something was up.

“B,” He called to me- short for George’s nickname I supposed, but he hardly ever used it. My eyes skitted between his own, then away again in fear he’d be able to see it all written as plain as day across my face. “Listen, if you wanna go down to London, then go. Ignore this twat-“ Matty squawked indignantly. “The band stuff, the gigs, they’ll all still be here when you get back.” The ‘we’ll still be here’ went unsaid, but it was heard. “Only a few weeks, just like you said. If your mum wants you down there, must be a reason, ey?”

I wiggled my jaw. If only it was that simple, I thought, but simply shrugged again. “‘Spose.”

“What, so you actually wanna go?” Matty cut in, looking almost betrayed, always one for the dramatics. “Just leave us here, when everything’s finally fallin’ into place?”

I frowned at him, “No, I don’t wanna go. But-” I don’t want to stay in that house any longer.

“Exactly! Just tell her that then, babe!” Matty rushed out before I could even think of an end to that sentence, “She’ll understand, let you stay, and then we can have the entire summer, yeah?”

He was grinning so wide, it was hard to do anything but just nod in defeat. Ross and Hann shook their heads at him as they huffed and drew themselves up onto their feet.

“Alright, can we get to startin’ practice now then or is this family meeting still happening?” Hann not so subtly suggested, quirking a brow at the lot of us. I was just grateful for the opportunity to cut my loses and run, Ross was already moving over towards the amp, and Matty was nodding his hasty agreement.

“Gonna grab some drinks first though.” The curly haired singer added, and he darted out of the garage before Hann could stop him. I chuckled under my breath at Adam’s pained expression and settled further into the settee, making myself comfortable there. It was then that I caught George’s eye though and he jerked his head over towards the driveway, a quiet indication.

I chewed on the inside of my lip before I ultimately nodded, holding back a sigh. He got up first and then I followed, ignoring Hann’s exasperated huff and the lingering look I felt from Ross.

I thought that’d been it, the London topic dropped. But luck was never on my side and even though I had no idea what George would possibly have to say on the subject, I could see that he’d been far too quiet in there. Something was coming.

He wandered a way away from the garage door, slipping round the side of the house and towards the garden gate before he finally stopped, pausing to settle against the low brick wall there. It was a place we often favoured whenever we wanted a breath away from the others, sheltered by overhanging trees and bushes, you could sort of feel invisible there.

George was quiet even as he tugged an already opened pack from his jean pocket and plucked a cigarette from its case. On impulse I pulled out my lighter and flicked it open for him, lighting the end like I usually did.

“How’s Steven doing?” He asked rather abruptly, so much so that a wad of spit caught in the back of my throat at the question and I had to fight not to choke.

“Why the fuck are you asking me that?” I retorted, swallowing harshly and catching my breath.

He didn’t look at me, eyes hard and focused on the opposing wall. He shrugged a shoulder lazily, but I knew better. “You never mentioned London.”

“And what the hell has my mum’s dick of a boyfriend got to do with London?” I sputtered back heatedly, already knowing the answer.

George levelled me with a look and inhaled slowly, gaze finding mine.

“You know what.”

I scowled and folded my arms promptly across my chest. “Fuck you.”

He rolled his eyes at my reaction and billowed out a breath of smoke above us, handing me the fag in quiet offering. I shook my head. He sighed.

“I thought-”

He tried, but I quickly shut him down, “Fuck what you thought, you don’t know a thing.”

George held a single hand up in mock surrender, ash falling with it. I steeled my gaze on the thick cement tiles below us.

“Not claiming to, Birdie.” George said in his usual tone, unaware of what that nickname of his did to me. “But I know something’s up. Reckon the guys are noticing things too.”

I rubbed the curve of my arm subconsciously, knowing there was truth in his words.

“What do you want me to say?” I asked exhaustedly, all the fight I typically had had been drained from me. 

The question had been mostly rhetorical, but George wasn’t the type to care. “The truth.” He answered and I could feel his stare trained on me now.

“The truth?” I scoffed tiredly, the bitten flesh of cheek I so often ground between my teeth was scarred, bumpy as I pressed my tongue to it and thought the whole thing over.

‘Truth’ was something we’d taken to using for a while now, in the buzzing hum of our frequented cafe, within the confines of the shed at the end of my garden, sprawled on his bedsheets whilst getting high. It’d started after a small falling out I’d had with Vicky a few months prior and had continued on almost unconsciously.

Now though, I didn’t know what to tell him, what truth to acknowledge. What he wanted to hear.

George mimicked the low hum I made, cigarette pressed between his lips but otherwise unmoving. “Who’s idea was London then?”

“His.”

We both knew who I was talking about.

“Right.” George nodded once, “She just agreed then?”

She, being my mum. I dipped my chin, a silent confirmation.

His thumb was tapping away at the jut of his knee now, a rhythmic tic I often stilled with a hand covering his own. I couldn’t find it in myself to reach out and touch him now though.

“Why’s he want you gone?”

In truth, I really didn’t know. Maybe I’d gotten too much. Perhaps he’d gotten fed up.

“Think he has better things in mind than having me hang ‘round all summer.”

“You want to go?”

I let his question hang there for a moment. I was toeing two sides of the line with my answer. To go would be easier on everyone, I’d see my Nana, get to explore a whole other city, and have the chance to escape them. But being away also meant leaving the boys.

George didn’t mind not hearing my verbal reply, I think he already knew my answer. He just wanted to be sure of it. He went on, “My mum’s back in town next week.”

A truth for a truth.

“You never mentioned it.” I said, picking at a fraying edge on my denim shorts.

He gave a slow shrug, “You never mentioned London.”

“Only found out a couple days ago.” He raised a brow in return, thinning his lips. I sighed, “Alright, I should’ve said something sooner but I was thinking it over.”

George hummed, “Dad only told me this mornin’.”

Maybe that’s why he’d been so reserved since we’d met up. The whole way to Matty’s he’d barely spoken a word, but I’d been overly anxious, knowing I was planning to tell them about London, which meant that I’d been talking a mile a minute- an attempt I often used to cover it. 

“What are you gonna do?” I asked him, peering up at his solemn features through a lock of fallen hair. 

“What I always do. Stay out of her way.” He told me honestly before he took a longer drag. I watched his chest rise with it, observed how his eyes fluttered slightly. He was always so interesting to watch.

“Could come to London with me. Hide out there.” I offered and was met with the slight quirk to his mouth, he was amused by my words. “I’m serious!” I reiterated and bumped a shoulder against his arm, “Me and you. Together. Nana loves strays.”

George just laughed at that and I couldn’t help the soft smile I made at the sound. “Sod off.” He told me around a chuckle, “London does sound nice though, be good for you I reckon.”

“For us.” I insisted, the idea fully lodging its way into my brain now. “Come on, G. Don’t you think it’d be fun?”

“Yeah sure, but the wrath Matty would rain down on us fucking won’t be.” George snorted, shaking his head at me softly.

“So?” I pestered again, shuffling round on the wall to face him properly, shin pressing against his outer thigh. He glanced down at it and then away, inhaling again. “I can phone her when I get in,”

“Phone who?” George interrupted just as my fingers found the flannel he’d thrown on that same morning. I toyed with it, rolling my eyes.

“My Nana! Keep up.” I huffed at him, “I’ll phone her, ask if she’d be okay with you coming along too and you can just tell the guys you’re being held hostage by your mum, she wants family time, forcing you to go and see an aunt or summat.”

George was wearing this barely there smirk, one I recognised as a crack in his usual stoic resolve. I was wearing him down.

“Think about it, G… You can avoid your mum and waste half your summer away with me.”

I raised my brows at him, hopeful, but he just stared back at me.

“And what would I tell my dad, my mum?” He retorted, finally stubbing out the end of his cigarette and flicking the butt of it into the soil behind us.

“Tell your dad we’re going camping. All of us. And we can leave before your mum gets in.” I explained, in full out planning mode now. I could see it all coming together in my head and tugged on the cuff of his sleeve in excitement. “Come on, G. Please? Be our little secret.”

George’s gaze trailed over my face, his expression as serious as my own. “You really mean it, don’t you?”

I tilted my head, confused by his sentiment. “Of course I do. If I could, I’d take you everywhere with me. It’s us against the world, G. Always.”

He cracked the tiniest of smiles, an action I knew he had no control over, and it only seemed to grow as I matched it. I had him.

“So we’re really doing this then?” He breathed out in amused disbelief. I nodded with a painfully large grin as I wrapped my arms around his neck, leaning in closer.

“Best believe it.” I replied just as he knocked his forehead against mine. Both of us unable to bite back our smiles.

“London.” George whispered.

“London.” I mimicked, marvelling at the very idea of it.

To think, I’d been dreading this entire conversation. How things so quickly changed.

And change they would…

—

“Yeah, yeah!” I prattled away, hardly holding back my anticipation. 

I’d been back barely five minutes before I’d hurried over to the landline, having snuck in through the back gate and shuffled up the drainpipe to my bedroom. I’d waited until I heard the front door slam then made a run for it, scurrying down the stairs and almost throwing the phone off its hook in my hurry. I had half hour until mum was due back from wherever she usually pissed off to, and didn’t have to worry about Old Steven seeing me as he’d just left for the pub.

“‘Course I’m excited, Nana. Haven’t seen you in ages!” I told the older woman, warmly, through the phone, twirling the chord around my finger as I did. 

She was rambling away now, had been ever since I’d said hello. She’d been gruff in her answer at first, having thought I was one of those poxy telemarketers she could often never shake, but was over the moon to know it’d been me once she’d heard my voice. 

Apparently she was rather excited to know that I was coming down to visit, though she hadn’t heard a word of it until I’d brought it up then- fucking mum. Still, she told me she’d set up the spare room and let my aunt know too, she sounded just as pleased as me. It was then that I thought it best to try and bring up George.

“Aunt Del will be so pleased to see you, love. Have to cook up something proper for when you arrive too, won’t I?” 

I smiled fondly at her voice, her heavy accent so different to mine. “Don’t have to go to too much trouble for me, nan.”

“Oh bugger off, you daft cow! My granddaughter’s comin’ to see me, I’ll do as I please.” Nana scoffed and I bit back a giggle.

“Alright.” I appeased her, then she asked what day I’d be heading off. I thought it over for a second, knowing that G’s mum was due back Sunday night, so that morning probably gave us enough time to set off and make the train. “Sunday, Nana.” I replied and she hummed, but before she could say anything in actual reply I was quick to mention the deal-breaker. “Actually Nana, whilst I still have you, I um, I was meant to ask you something. Just, I don’t want to put you out or nothing…”

“Sweet, you’d best spit whatever ask you have out ‘fore you swallow your own tongue. I ain’t gettin’ any younger and the days ain’t gettin’ any longer. So out with it.” She demanded. She was just as I remembered, headstrong to a fault and overly blunt. The woman said what she pleased and if you didn’t like that then you’d simply have to deal with it, nowt to do with her.

I huffed a mirthful chuckle, “Sorry.”

“None of that now, sunshine. Tell me what you’re after.”

“See, I have this friend…”

“Oh, a friend, is it? Let me guess, this friend of yours, they headed down my way too?” She never missed a thing that woman, I’ll give her that.

“Might be.”

Nana laughed and I could hear her shuffling about, probably in the kitchen from the sound of pots clinking in the background. “Just like your father, I tell you. Cheek on the pair of ya.”

My heart caught at her words, no one spoke of my dad. To hear that I was similar to him in any way, well that paused my whirling mind for a split second. 

Though to my Nana, it had just been an off handed comment, a slip of the tongue, because she was already breezing on by whilst I fought to catch up.

“Tell me about this friend of yours then. They nice? Treat you well?” Nana pestered, last she knew of my life here up North was my closeness with Vicky and my lingering eyes which were often casted towards her older brother, Jamie. How things had changed.

I smiled at the questions and thought of George. He was a hard person to describe in truth. There wasn’t a thing I disliked about him. There were things that annoyed me about him, sure- he was one of few people who knew exactly what buttons to press- but describing George, well it sort of felt like describing myself. That, plus, I didn’t want to give too much away.

“He’s nice, Nana.”

She hummed and I heard the sweet drawl to it, as though she was grasping at something. The sound made me flush a tad. “He’s nice, is he?”

Put my foot right in it there. Could’ve tried getting away with it by being vague, have her think it was a girl ’til George’s ginormous self gangled his way through her door, but nope.

“Yup.” I popped back, too far gone to backtrack now. 

My feelings towards George were honestly a confusing mountain of mess, but they had yet to make me force him away. Hearing my nan allude to something of the like did not help at all.

“Hm, and he’s wantin’ to follow after you, is he? Down ‘ere to see little old me.”

I shook my head even though she couldn’t see. “It were my idea. I-”

She stopped me short, “No need to explain, dove. He sounds like a very nice friend, this boy. One you’d like to keep near I assume?” I hummed noncommittally and could hear her devious smile, “Handsome is he?”

“Nana.” I droned out, regretting ever having even mentioned it now. Should’ve just surprised her, at least then she wouldn’t be teasing me like this. Actually, scrap that. That was a complete lie. She so fucking would.

“‘Course he can come along, love.” She allowed, relenting with her teasing a tad, or so I thought. “Just got the one spare room though, so if you don’t mind putting up with him for a couple nights… or I ‘spose I could just make up the sofa.”

“Whatever’s easiest for you, Nana. And thank you. I,” I inhaled slowly, the sound sharp in the quiet of the house, “I really do appreciate it, you putting me up and that.”

“Nonsense. Always worryin’ ‘bout you up there, that mother of yours never phones.” Nana tutted. If she only knew that half of it, I thought to myself. “But anyway darlin’, there’s nothin’ to thank me for, only way you could is with a pack of Rothmans Blue- Superking, mind.”

I snorted to myself, “Consider it done. Sunday paper, too?”

“Oh, you know me so well. Daily mail, none of that other shite.”

I mouthed the last few words as she spoke them, knowing that they’d be coming, and grinned when I was right. 

“‘Course not.” I said with a smile, “If you need anything else picking up, call this time Saturday, yeah?”

“You got a schedule or somethin’ there, lovie?” Nana joked, laughing lightly even as my own smile faltered slightly.

“Something like that.” I murmured, then thought I heard the key turn in the front door. 

My head snapped towards the sound, sheltering the phone against my shoulder to listen in closer. 

Yeah, someone was definitely home. 

Wary, I hurried to say my goodbyes, “Listen Nana, think that’s mum headed in now with the shopping. I’d best go and help her.”

“Shoppin’? This late?” Nana questioned but I was already standing, bouncing from foot to foot, praying to every star in the night sky that it was mum and not Steven.

“Yeah, she had a late shift tonight. Is that alright, Nana? I’ll call before I leave Sunday, okay?”

I was fretting now, heart racing as the door hinges begun to squeak.

“‘Course it is, love. Say hello to your mum too, won’t ya, sweetheart? And I’ll see you Sunday.”

“I will, love you.” I rushed out and was left with the beginnings of a smile when I heard her parrot it back to me. I hung up just as the front door slammed closed and jumped towards the kitchen sink like a trapeze artist would a free-falling rope. More than grateful to see that there were a few cups littering the basin.

I was washing up just as she walked in, I heard her paused in the archway, probably surprised to see me down here.

“What you doin’ that for?” She asked me and I glanced over my shoulder, holding back a shaky breath whilst I flashed her smile.

“Just thought I’d be helpful, mum.” I replied and turned back to the task at hand to subtly release the balloon of air that’d been swelling in my chest.

She hummed indifferently and tossed her purse down onto the kitchen table, “Steve in?”

I shook my head, “Wasn’t here when I got back.” Liar.

“Right.” She worked her jaw, staring off into space before she headed over towards the fridge, plucking up a cider. “Gonna run a bath, back’s been killin’ me. You alright to make your own tea?”

I swallowed back the hollow laugh that wanted to escape me, I always fixed my own tea. Did everything myself. “Yeah, mum.” I told her instead of voicing that though, choosing not to glance her way again.

“Right.” She repeated and then I heard nothing for a few beats before her feet were wandering out of the kitchen again and up the stairs.

I let myself slump against the counter as I listened to her disappear, hands covered in soap duds and not caring for the water that dripped its way down my forearm. I let my eyes fall close for a brief minute. That’d been too close for my liking.

—

I told George of the talk I’d had with my nan, along with the plan, the next day. We’d leave about nine, Sunday morning, to try and make it to London before the rush of lunch, and my Aunt Del would then pick us up from the station soon after.

We’d been sat on the school playing fields, waiting for the rest of the guys. Just lazing about there, seeing as we only had a couple days before school finally let out. Days like these were always the best kind though, when the teachers gave up on teaching us anything and just stuck a film on. Hoping it’d quiet our ever growing excitement. Did it fuck.

“I didn’t think you were being serious!” George exclaimed with a light laugh once I’d finally finished, eyes wide as he glanced down at me. I was sprawled out on the grass, head in his lap.

“Of course I fucking was! Do you not know me at all?” I replied in the same tone he’d used, titling my head back to exaggerate my own eyes. “We said it! We agreed!”

“So? I said I’d pull the plug on Matty’s life support machine if he ever ended up braindead, don’t mean I’ll actually do it.” George snorted right back, hands toying with the ends of my hair.

“Well, he’s not far off, is he?” I teased, even though Matty wasn’t around to hear. “And besides, I’m not Matty. I’m me. And you,” I exaggerated, pointing a finger up at him, “can’t say no to a face like this.”

“When d’you get so vain, ey?” Was all that George replied. I rolled my eyes and huffed.

“Please, G. Nana’s excited to meet you now. Can’t let her down, can you? Imagine what it’ll do to her poor old heart.”

He dragged a thumb across my lip, wiping the pout I wore right off my face. The surprising action didn’t deter me though, neither did the sickening butterflies I felt.

“Heartless heathen. Just watch this space,” I told him in false seriousness, “See when I turn up all alone and she’s devastated. So utterly heartbroken.”

“Oh shut up, would you?” George huffed, tugging on a strand of my hair and rolling his eyes at my scowl. “I’ll go.” My face quickly morphed and I knew he saw it when he leant in closer to cut off whatever I’d been about to say, our noses a breath apart. “But, only if you help me break it to the boys- my dad as well.”

I mulled it over, “I could do that.”

“You say that now.” He chuckled down at me, brown eyes dancing between my own before he pulled away and glanced over to see the boys headed our way.

To say that the rest of the band had taken the news of George’s departure easily was an utter lie. As expected, Matty had gone off on one, all grumpy and disheartened. Hann had sighed, but said that they could put off any recording sessions for a week or so. And Ross had just sat there grinning lazily at us like a overweight cat stretched out in the sun, unbothered by it but also looking a little too smug for my liking. 

I’d narrowed my eyes at him but said nothing.

George’s dad on the other hand was a whole other story.

I’d only met the man twice. Once when he’d caught me up in George’s bedroom, splayed out on the floor after having fallen out of a handstand his son had dared me into. Then a second time in the supermarket on the high street, I’d been grabbing food for the house seeing as no one else could be bothered, and he’d been on the phone to someone or other, heatedly whispering away. We’d caught each others eye, gave a strange awkward wave, then sped off down separate aisles. 

I’d been mortified both times. Not the best impression to have left on anyone, let alone your mate’s dad.

Still, I’d agreed to help and so now here I was. Sat in George’s kitchen, him at the stove, me perched by the table, both of us waiting for his dad to come home from work.

I was biting at my knuckle nervously, eyes trained on the door, George swatted my arm when he finally noticed, passing by me to pull a pack of pasta from out of the cupboard. “Why’re you so worked up? He’s harmless, plus you’ve met him before.”

Harmless, that’s how Matty often described George. I wondered if the two of them were much alike. Like my dad and I.

“I’m not.” I defended, but was levelled with a look telling me to cut the bullshit. “Fine, I just- I don’t know! Okay? Will you just run me through the story again?”

George chuckled to himself, pouring pasta shells into some salted water. “I’ll start, hint that a few of us are wanting to go camping. He won’t ask who, but if he does just say the lads. Like Hann and that- don’t mention Matty though, they’ve met.”

“He doesn’t like Matty?” I questioned with a pinched brow.

George’s shoulders moved with an unsure shrug, his back to me as he checked on the sauce he was making. I found it strange how I never knew he could cook til now. Or at least I hoped he could, I was supposed to be eating this.

“Nah, not that he doesn’t like him. Just thinks he’s a bit…” He replied, searching for the right word.

“Over the top? Eccentric? Loud?”

With a snort, George nodded. “Yeah. So, just be wary.”

I hummed, fiddling with the coasters that sat nearby. George’s house was nice, looked hardly lived in but it was tidy and inviting. Nothing as extravagant as Matty’s, but not quite like mine either. His family did well for themselves, you could see it.

“You don’t have to do this, you know. I was just pulling your leg earlier.” He told me after a minute or two had passed in quiet.

I shook my head. “I said I would, didn’t I? Don’t go back on my word.” I ridiculed, giving him a knowing look as I thought back to his first agreement over the trip to London. George just rolled his eyes at me and turned back towards the stove again. 

Besides, I thought to myself, I was here now. Might as well.

The telltale sign of a car pulling up onto the drive sounded then and my eyes widened on their own accord. “Oh shit.”

I was regretting everything now. I had no idea how to act, or what to say. I wanted to crawl under the table and hide until it was safe to come out again. My mind screaming at me to just make a run for it before I fucked the entire thing up.

I was sat staring a hole into the kitchen door, just waiting anxiously, when George carded a hand through my hair. I hadn’t even heard him approach.

“Don’t stress.” 

I glanced up towards him, then blew a heavy breath out of my nose, letting my forehead fall against his stomach.

“How can you say that? I’m freaking out, G.” My words were muffled by his t-shirt and so I felt it when he gave a muted chuckle in return. Strangely, the movement soothed me, but the gentle hand he held to the back of my head helped too. 

“You’ll be fine, B.” He murmured out into the kitchen and I pulled away when I heard the front door rattle. “Besides, when have I ever let you down?”

I released a shallow breath and then plastered on a more convincing smile. I caught George’s hand in mine just before he went back to watching the boiling pot and squeezed the digits, he returned the gesture kindly. I was thankful to have him, I realised in that moment, the easy way we worked only just hitting me then.

George was back by the stove when the kitchen handle turned and we both glanced over in the direction of the door to watch his dad walk on through it. The man was tall, that was the first thing I noticed, he had to duck his head to wander through the frame so that he wouldn’t hit it, and he also looked a lot like George. They shared the same eyes.

“Oh.” The older man paused when he spotted me at the table, slowing his movements ever so slightly to process it. It seemed that syllabic reactions were also something that the pair shared too.

“Hi, Mr Daniel. Hope me being here isn’t too much of a bother.” I greeted him, trying for polite, my voice was quieter than I expected though and I noted the way George’s furrowed brow turned towards me when he heard it too.

George’s dad stepped further into the kitchen, placing a carrier bag down on the kitchen counter before he walked over to drop his briefcase onto a wooden chair.

“Not a bother.” His accent was peculiar, it held a hint of, what I could only assume to be, Dutch, that was overpowered slightly by his low speech. “And I’m Jules, no need for formalities. You must be Y/n.”

I nodded and gave a smile when he quirked one of his own, however tiny. “I am, it’s nice to properly meet you.” I told him as he propped himself into the seat sat opposite me. 

“Yes, I agree. Though I have heard a lot about you, George has spoken of you before.” Jules informed, analysing eyes flitting over to where his son was stood, pretending to be absorbed in his cooking, before they settled back on me, “He speaks highly of you.”

A genuine smile broke out across my face then and, unable to stop it, I glanced down to my lap in hopes to hide it.

“That’s kind of him.” I laughed softly and was pleased when George’s dad chuckled along with me, it was a resonant sound one that came from deep within.

“My son’s a good boy. A kind one. I hope he’ll turn into a good man also.”

The look he casted George was sweet, one I couldn’t relate to but adored all the same. This man held his son in high regard, he loved him.

George decided to grace us with a bit of input then. “Are we done talking about me now?” He quipped, looking a bit self-conscious which was new. “Just waiting for him to start telling you my most embarrassing moments or pull out the baby photos.”

I flashed his dad a hopeful grin, “I’d love that.”

Jules just laughed and glanced towards his son. “I like this girl. Where did you find her?”

George shook his head in retort, rolling his eyes but not hiding his fond smile. “She found me.”

The two of us shared a look then and laughed- he had a point.

“Oh?” Jules said, questioning gaze jumping between the both of us now.

“I heard him play. At school.” I acquiesced the older man’s wondering and instinctively he knew I was talking about drumming. “He was hiding away in the music room when I’d been walking past, decided to poke my head in.”

“Ambushed me, more like.” George scoffed, a tea towel slung over his shoulder, looking every bit like the chef he was feigning to be. 

“I did not!” I gasped.

George laughed loudly, I was marvelled by the sound but I didn’t let it put me off upholding my honour. 

“You did.” He affirmed, “Gave me an address on a piece of paper like some slick gangster and told me to be there.” 

“I- it was-” I tried to find the right response but he had me there- although, slick gangster was quite the compliment if I was being honest. “I was just trying to be helpful! Besides, you hardly said a word to me. I thought you hated me at first!”

George quirked a brow, as though this was a surprise to him, maybe it was.

Jules cut in, his question held a hint of mirth, “An address?”

George glanced towards his dad and nodded once more, “For the band. That’s how I joined.”

“Ah.” George’s dad sounded, “Are you in this band too?” He asked me.

George snickered and I tried not to glare at him as I answered Jules. “No, just the boys. I keep them all in order though.”

“The world would crumble without a woman in charge. Count yourselves lucky.” Jules sent a grin towards his son, it was toothy and I noted that the fine lines around both his eyes and mouth resembled those I’d seen on George. His familiar eyes found mine next, “Do you play though?”

I shook my head, if only. “I can play a few chords on the piano but I’m no Chopin.” Adam’s doing, that. 

“Sing?” Jules questioned and I found myself wringing my hands beneath the tabletop.

“A little. Not in front of people though.” I told him honestly, not paying mind to the pause George made or the way his expression deepened. “It’s something of my own.”

Jules looked to me then, really looked at me I mean, and dipped his head in an earnest understanding. “Some things are meant for the heart, these are the things that keep us grounded.”

I nodded too, thankful that he could relate in some way, and the kitchen settled into a peaceful lull for once. No nervous energy to be found. George turned his back on us to drain the pasta and stir a pot.

After a few muted minutes filled with George just puttering about, he padded his way over and placed two plates before his dad and I. We thanked him and he returned with one of his own as well as a bowl of grated cheese. He and his dad tucked right in, loading up on the mountain of parmesan, I however passed.

George cleared his throat once we’d all settled in, his foot finding my ankle beneath the table. I peered over to him but he was still staring down at his dinner. “I forgot to mention, dad. There’s this trip coming up.”

“At school?” Jules asked him, not noticing George’s awkward stance, the way his shoulders were hunched over his plate. I nudged my knee against his encouragingly.

“No, um just a group of us. To celebrate the end of the year.” He replied, having paused in his eating now to watch his dad’s reaction, who was still chewing happily away. “Camping.”

That did catch the man’s attention. “Camping?” He mimicked, one brow raising as he looked to George. “Where?”

“Down by the coast. Margate way.” Wow, he’d really thought this through.

His dad hummed around his next mouthful, then turned to me. I tried not to falter under his attention and the sudden pressure I felt. “Are you going, Y/n?”

I swallowed. 

“I am. It’s a big group of us. Seven or so.” I replied. In truth, there was an actual trip happening with some of the kids in our year- Vicky was actually going. They were all headed to some festival, a few of them camping out there, others staying in hotels nearby or with mates. When Matty had first heard about it he’d wanted to tag along, but then he’d saw the lineup and thought better of it.

“And your parents don’t mind?” Jules prodded, ignoring the sharp look George sent him.

“My mum is looking forward to the peace.” I joked with a soft chuckle, aiming to ease some of the nervousness I felt. “But she doesn’t mind, as long as I keep in touch and stay safe.”

God, I’d really pulled that one out of my arse, hadn’t I?

Jules seemed to buy it though and hummed again, folding his hands together. “When is this?”

“Next week, they’re leaving Sunday.” George answered, taking a sip of the drink he’d made us earlier.

“Your mother-” His dad attempted to say but George was swifter, “I know, that’s why I’m asking you now.”

Jules didn’t look too happy about the interruption or having been put on the spot, but didn’t comment on it, nor did he add to George’s explanation.

“I could call her, mention it.” Jules murmured, thinking it over as his eyes passed over his son’s. “But I don’t think she will mind. As long as you have fun, ah?”

The older man grinned and I felt the tightness in my chest loosen, going back to my food as the duo continued to talk more about the trip and then the football match that was supposedly on later tonight. 

I smiled to myself, figuring that this was probably the most normal family interaction I’d been apart of in a long time. And my smile only grew when George trapped my ankle between both of his feet, a silent acknowledgement.

He walked me home later that evening, hands in our pockets after having said a quiet goodbye to his dad, who’d looked just about ready to nod off on the sofa. 

It was quiet out and the walk was short so we decided on taking the long way, talking amongst ourselves, me staring up at the stars, him kicking at the pebbles we passed by.

“You never mentioned singing before.”

George’s sudden mention of the earlier topic faltered my step briefly, but I kept looking on. “Not something I tell most people.” I replied with a lazy shrug.

“Why?” He asked me, and if it’d been anyone else I’d’ve told them to mind their own. But this was George. George who new more parts of me than most. Who knew and didn’t judge. Who never whispered a word of it to anyone.

I rolled my lips against one another. “It was just something I always shared with my dad.”

George didn’t say anything for a minute or so, probably mulling it over, thinking of something to say. People always got so tense whenever I mentioned him. Death made people weird.

“You any good?”

That ask prompted an unexpected laugh from me and I peered over at him with a bright smile, teeth brushing against my lower lip. 

He knew me so well. I didn’t need pity, apologies, sympathy. 

“The next Britney, me.”

George grimaced and I chuckled some more before gazing down at my feet.

“I don’t know. My dad liked to hear me, said it reminded him of when his grandad used to take him to the local market down by the lock near their house. The women there used to sing on the barges that passed.”

George hummed around a sweet smile, “Will you sing to me?”

“Not even on your dying day.” I quipped right back, laughing when he stopped to narrow his eyes at me. 

“Come on, just a song. A verse!” He attempted to bargain but I wouldn’t budge, shaking my head.

“You’re going to get me in trouble, you know.” I told him with a laugh, “Was meant to be home twenty minutes ago, I’ll have to shuffle up the drain again.”

“Well, we’re already late so you’ll still have to make do with that drainpipe of yours, or I can offer you a shoulder up.”

I snorted softly, “What a sight that’d be if a neighbour saw.”

George gifted me a lopsided grin and continued on walking, “So no chance of a song then?”

I shook my head.

“Not even if I swore to moon the headmaster tomorrow morning?”

I wasn’t quick enough to swallow down my loud cackle, not having expected that response from him.

“As if you’d showcase your spotty arse to the entire school.”

George hip-checked me, “Fuck you, I do not have a spotty arse.”

“Well, how would I know? I’ve never seen it.”

“This your way of asking?” He smirked back, winking at me.

My jaw dropped at his blatant cheek, honestly so surprised I struggled to find a proper retort. “You wish.” 

George snorted at the flustered reply and continued walking on with a proud grin. He’d bested me there, we both knew it.

I huffed and let him have the win. Mostly because we were fast approaching my house and I could already see that the lights were still on.

With a sigh, I slowed my steps, all but lugging myself along the pavement now. George seemed to notice, but when did he not?

“You can always call me, you know? Just a text away.” He spoke, voice trailing out along the late summer air.

He knew I was dreading going inside, but that was to be expected. I always felt that way.

Instead of making any fuss though I merely grinned, waving him off. “I’ll be fine. But make sure you put your dad to bed, hey? Heard him complain about his back as he bent down to get in the freezer. He’ll regret kipping on that settee come morning.”

George gave me a small smile, finding amusement in my truthful words, but I could see the concern in his eyes. The worry lines that aged his face. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” I assured, smiling up at him. “Last day and then we’re home free, G!”

George nodded at the reminder and tugged a hand out from his pocket to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, fingertips trailing along my jaw ever so gently. I held my breath. Wondering if he’d finally close that distance between us. If he knew I wanted it just as badly.

But then he pulled away again and I tried to hide my sinking disappointment.

“See you tomorrow, Birdie.”

I gave him a crooked smile and pushed up on my tiptoes to press a careful kiss to his cheek. “Tomorrow. Night, G.”

…

I was on a bit of a high as I made my way around the side of the house, trainers dodging the dried out mud puddled beneath the kitchen window before I slid through the wearing wooden gate. 

George hadn’t made a move but it was a baby step. 

Ross’s words repeated on a loop in my head as I climbed my way up onto the garden wall to grab at the ledge sat just above the backdoor. Once I was stable there I shuffled my way up and over to my bedroom window, always just leaving it off the latch. 

‘He’s half fucking in love with you.’

‘But that’s alright, I guess. Seeing as he has no clue that you like him too.’

He was a wise one, our Ross. But I don’t know, part of me was desperate to believe him, the other fearful- of what, I wasn’t quite sure.

I forced out a heavy breath as I lugged my body in through the open window, being mindful not to make too much noise as I stuck my landing.

With a breathless exhale I spun around to close the window again, startling when I saw a figure sat in the corner of my room, looming in the old wicker chair I’d had there for years.

My hand jumped up to my racing heart as I processed the shock, biting back the sudden fear that crawled its way up the back of my neck when I noticed his predatory grin.

“Been wonderin’ how you’ve been sneakin’ in and out without me noticing.” Steven commented causally, as though it was perfectly normal for a grown man to be sat up waiting for a teenage girl in her bedroom. “‘Cause at first, you see, at first I reckoned you were just pretty stealthy. Funny that, what with you bein’ so lard.”

He snorted at his own joke, but I paid his cruel words no attention, far too used to the rotten things he’d often spout. Men were all the same, only Steven just didn’t have a single good bone in his body. 

I walked over to my dresser, fiddling with the rings there before I reached for a hair tie. I was trying not to show him that I cared, that I hated him for invading my space, that I wanted to run as quick as my legs would let me away. If I did then it was game over, he’d win.

I almost didn’t hear him stand, so I tensed slightly when a floorboard creaked beneath his weight. He approached from behind, his face coming into view beside mine in the dresser mirror. I didn’t look him in the eye.

“Where you been then? Out with yer mates, or were you gettin’ your leg over?”

Bile rose, it suffocated my senses for a moment before I steeled myself. He wouldn’t get the upper hand here. I wouldn’t give him a reaction.

“Saw you outside with that lad. Harry down the pub says your often with him, sees the two of you out late most nights.” Steven said snidely, “Do you love him, pet? Reckon he loves you back, do ya?”

My eyes flew up towards his in the mirror, “Did you want something, Steven?”

He whistled lowly then and I watched his mouth tug up into a menacing smirk as his eyes grazed over my face in the reflection, slowly making their way down to the curve of my neck and then lower. I kept my head held high even as I turned to slide out from between him and the dresser, only I wasn’t quick enough.

His hips jerked out instinctively and he pinned me to the wooden drawers. My mind buzzed, I was panicking now. He’d never gotten close like this. A punch here, a shove there. But, never like this.

“Let me go.”

“Why, petal? Don’t you think we could have some fun?”

“Let me go.” I repeated, firmer this time, fists steeled against the countertop. 

When he only laughed at my reaction I took the chance his ego gave me, kicking back swiftly with my leg to hit him just below his knee and buckle him. He did, but only just, springing out to claw at me as I darted my way to the bedroom door. 

I screamed when I felt his hands catch at my waist, but the handle was already in my hand and so I tugged as hard as I could. It opened, flying out to catch the side of my face. 

Shocked by the sudden impact, my head fell limply and I stopped struggling for a moment. His hold tightened though and I knew I had to keep on, get to the stairs, then to the front door. 

Just get out. 

“Let go!” I screeched, scratching at his greedy hands and tugging my body relentlessly towards the hallway. 

It was a game of tug-of-war, and for him I supposed I was the prize. But I wasn’t too easily won. I sent another kick backwards, he avoided it. I used the same foot to crash down hard on his toes, he yelped and loosened his arms slightly in surprise, enough for me to break out into the hall, crashing into the wall opposite my room. 

His fist collided with the back of my head just as my cheek bounced off the photo frame mum had hung there, I slumped lower, wiggling my way downwards and towards where I knew the banister would be.

“Don’t, be, difficult.” He grunted out. 

“Fuck you.” I spat back. 

On the floor now, I rolled over and ignored the carpet that burned the skin of my arms. I kicked harder, vision hazy as he loomed over me. He struck me again for talking back, like he often did whenever he was home, but then hit me twice more just because he could. Laughing about it now.

I forced myself backwards, the hallway was dim, the only light coming from the bedroom at the end of the walkway. I wondered if she was in there. If she could hear all of this. “Mum?” I called out, wailing almost. “Mum!”

Steven laughed harder at that. “She ain’t here. Even if she were, she’d be no help to you, you little tramp. Now get up!” He ordered and I felt the back of my hand brush against the wooden beam of the banister. “Up!”

I did as I was told, legs trembling before me. He struck me back down again, then ordered the same. “Up!”

I could hardly feel anything but the licking fire that flooded my veins, every inch of my body hurting. But I couldn’t let it show.

I stumbled to my feet, vision so blurred I ought to be concussed. He pinned me to the wall there, hands roaming, I whimpered and he only grinned, getting in my face.

“Pretty when you try, ain’t you?” He snarked. I gritted my teeth and thrashed about, spitting in his face when I couldn’t smash his head away with my own.

He worked his jaw for a moment, blinking once at me before another disgusting smirk replaced his thinly pressed lips.

“I could kill you, here and now. Make it hurt, do it nice and slow. No one would even notice. Would they? No one would be none the wiser. You hear me?” He hissed brutally into my ear, I was quivering now, whimpering as he drew closer and closer, pressing against me. “Yer mum would thank me, kiss my feet even, for having gotten rid of the tart she birthed. She cries, you know. All the time. Tells me she wishes it were you who died, and not your old man.”

I choked on a sob, thrashing again. He laughed joyfully. 

“Is that it? Do you miss yer daddy, little girl?” He taunted, mouth pressing against the skin of my cheek now, breath hot as his fingers worked at the button of my shorts. “But he ain’t comin’ to help you, petal. No one is.”

I turned my face further away from him, as far as I possibly could. Lip trembling and arms falling slack. He chuckled, shaking his head at me and tutting, but his mistake was thinking I’d make this easy for him. He could go fuck himself. 

As soon as he released one of my wrists to paw at the cut of my shorts, I shot my knee out, colliding with his lower half hard. He groaned in pain, fingers flexing against the jut of my wrist when I shoved him as hard as I could away with my free hand. 

He twisted the arm he still held as he stumbled slightly, but I couldn’t react, not even to the sharp pain that flew up towards my elbow. I had to take the chance while I still had it, thrashing even more and grabbing blindly for the ancient ornament my mum had kept on the shelf nearby for years. I brought it down hard once my fingers wrapped around its metal, smashing it against the hand that still encased my arm. He shouted out and in his agony flew his uninjured arm back at me, knocking the side of the ornament I still gripped and sending its pointed top sailing towards my neck. It pierced the thin skin between my collar and shoulder blade.

I pulled it free thoughtlessly, gawking at the sight of it before he came flying towards me. On instinct I chucked the hefty ornament back his way, catching the side of his head when he attempted to duck away from it. I darted towards the bathroom in the same second, the closest room available, and slammed the door shut behind me. Fiddling with the lock, it slipped through my fingers three times before it finally latched.

I looked around the room for anything to protect myself with, shaking violently, but my only option was the plunger and the cabinet on the adjacent wall. But I wasn’t even sure that it could come away. My next idea was the window. 

Steven banged at the door then, a flight of fury, anger creeping in from the tiny gap beneath it as he shouted at the top of his lungs. I was already crouched in the sink, heartbeat filling up my ears. I fumbled with the window’s latch, coating the white windowsill in red as I forced the tiny pane open as far as it’d go.

I glanced out helplessly, trying to actively ignore the harsh thumping coming from behind me. I was a whole story up and had nothing to catch me down below, not even a ledge or a pipe to help me with my descent. 

I paused for a moment to try and think things through, but that was my mistake, the bathroom door behind me splintered under the full force of his weight and he all but jumped across the tiled floor to grab at me. 

I didn’t even think about it, throwing myself out of the open window in my panic, but not quick enough it seemed because his hand wrapped itself halfway around my leg like a snake would its prey. I was practically dangling upside down out of the window now, my hands desperately clawing at the brickwork to find something to hang onto. Still kicking as he tried to pull me back inside. 

I’d rather die, I thought in the hectic haze, or maybe I screamed it.

I heard her voice then. Her screaming out his name, my eyes shot up to see a flash of her hair above me in the bathroom. But it was in that moment that he chose to finally release me. That he finally let me go. And I fell. Dropped. Barely even feeling the ground as I splattered against it, face full of grass, hip colliding with the concrete patio.

She called out for me then. Said my name. It was the first time I’d heard her say it in weeks. 

My vision begun to flash, coming in and out of focus in thick streaks, I dragged myself upwards. Pain radiated throughout the length of my body as I did, but I just kept on going. Knowing if I kept on going then this would be the last of it. It would all be over.  

Struggling, fighting with myself to just keep on, to escape, I staggered down the garden path to pass through the side gate and out onto the sheltered drive. I clung to the wall there, using it as a crutch to aid me along.

I could still hear their shouts over the ringing, the incessant ringing that distracted me from most of the pain. I kept on pushing, forcing myself out onto the street now. Someone was coming after me, I’d heard the door rattle open but hadn’t dared look back, too focused on moving forward. 

My name.

I heard her call my name over and over. 

But somehow, by some miracle, I managed to break into a limping run. My lungs ached and I was gasping for air, but once I’d made it far enough, as far as I was capable, I felt my body drop against the curbed pavement. Head buried in the gravel road, hand clutching at my throbbing shoulder.

Next thing I knew there were lights, people. Sirens.

I kept on screaming.

“Don’t touch me! Please!” I sobbed, utterly distraught, “Don’t!”

They couldn’t touch me. I wouldn’t- they couldn’t. I wouldn’t let them.

So many voices flittered in and out of focus, attempts to talk me down, to help.

Everyone had gathered around to witness, it seemed, and I caved further into my shivering body, unable to focus on their whispers, the gasps, the looks. I didn’t know where I was. I was too scared to even ask. Too shocked to notice the familiar faces that littered the neighbourhood, looking down at me. Too terrified that he’d find me. That I’d be dragged back.

I sobbed harder. Eyes flicking to and fro. Trying to assess the situation, looking for any and all warning signs. An escape. But I couldn’t. Head too heavy to concentrate, my thoughts shutting down. 

Then there was a scuffle off to the far side and I tensed at the shouting that pursued, someone nearby was ordering people to step back, to go home.

Home, I wanted so desperately to scoff. How could I go home?

“Hey! You can’t be here.” They repeated, their voice itching at my skin, tightening every single muscle in my body. “Move away. Step away now!”

“She’s my friend! Let me fucking through. Y/n! Y/n!” 

Breathless, my head snapped up at the call of my name and through my hazy vision, I caught a glimpse of him. Him. How he’d known I was here, I had no idea, but he was there.

“George.” I sobbed openly, and that was the signal that seemed to allow him access. 

He all but threw himself towards me and the woman crouched about a foot away called out a warning to him, but I was reaching out too. Desperate for that safety that’d been so easily ripped away from me. 

I continued to sob, for who knows how long. He held me, tight. An anchor and a protector. He never let anyone get near. The sirens and flashing lights faded, and all I could hear was his voice. He sounded so lost. I wanted to apologise. I wanted him to hold me tighter.

“Come on, B. You need to get up now, alright? I need you to let them check you over. You won’t stop bleeding.”

He kept on repeating himself. Over and over. I couldn’t understand why. I was fine. Terrified but fine. I didn’t need them. I didn’t need to be touched. I didn’t want to be looked at. 

I wanted to go home. But where the fuck was home?

It wasn’t back there. It wasn’t with him.

I cried harder. 

“Birdie. Hey, Birdie, babe. Listen to me please. I’m here. I’m here and I’ve got you. Come on, we’re going to get into the ambulance, okay? Together. Just me and you.”

Me and you. “Me and you.” I repeated, his hand tightening a fraction in mine.

“That okay? Can you do that for me, love?”

I think I nodded, I couldn’t be sure. Uncertain of which way was up and which way was down. I leaned against his sturdy frame. “George, I lied.” I gasped out to him through my relentless spluttering, clawing at his chest. 

He didn’t reply.

“I lied, G! I said I’d be fine.” I cracked, barely even aware of the words I was spewing to him. “Can you stay? Please can you stay? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

He wrapped himself further around me, hand in my matted hair. 

“Yeah, Birdie. I’ll stay. I’m not going nowhere.” He assured me, gentle as he lifted me up and into the ambulance. “I’ve got you.”

—

I’d always hated hospitals. Ever since my dad had died. 

I hated the fact that I was here again, in the same one he’d left us in. Left me in. 

I didn’t pay much attention to anything, only ever reacting when someone touched me without warning. Waking when a nurse would pop her head in or when someone would pass outside the door.

George was dozing in the chair beside my bed. I couldn’t remember calling him. I couldn’t remember much. I suppose I didn’t want to.

I ached. Everywhere.

But it was my mind that caused the most pain. Relentless in its pursuit to keep me under. To never let me forget.

I could still feel his hands. The groping, the press of his mouth. The breath on my ear. 

I shivered, forcing back the tears and swallowing past the harsh lump.

My eyes fluttered again. Heavy now. Heavier than ever. The room faded, George’s faint breaths lulling my mind, sleep dragging me under. 

——

“Fuck!” George hissed out, slamming his fist into the opposing wall to keep from chucking up whatever else his stomach had left to give. “Fuck.” He repeated, only with a lot less conviction, less drive.

She wouldn’t stop crying. She wouldn’t let them come near. She’d been so defenceless.

And where was I? His head screamed at him.

Where the hell was I?

His fist collided with the wall above the toilet again, face scrunched up tight to keep from crying too.

His breaths grew ragged, hands clenched hard enough to hurt, all whilst feeling sick to his stomach. 

He startled.

A knock had sounded from just outside and he inhaled a sharp breath, waiting a moment, before he croaked out, “Yeah?”

He sounded so weak. Voice shaking.

“Um, there’s a call here for you, sir.” An unfamiliar voice spoke through the thick door, “Asking for a George Daniel.”

He swallowed thickly, the action doing nothing at all to dull the nausea that rolled through him. “Yeah.” He rasped in reply, pulling the toilet chain and moving towards the door as his insides flushed away.

He stepped out into the quiet corridor, to where she now laid asleep in the room opposite. George’s tired, albeit alert, gaze honed in on a nurse dressed in blue staring carefully back at him. 

“They’ve phone three times now.” She told him, voice soft. “I kept them on the line, but I can’t hold them off any longer.”

George swallowed again and nodded to her, casting a long glance into the room beside them.

The nurse followed his eye, “She’s strong. They’ll let her go soon enough.”

He dipped his head and reluctantly let her lead him down towards the ward’s reception desk, to where a phone was sat off the hook. She gestured towards it with a nod and then left him to it.

It was late enough that there weren’t many people mulling about, let alone any visitors, he’d only been allowed to stay because she’d refused to be treated otherwise.

“Hello?” George answered, voice cracking, having picked up the phone and brought it to his ear.

“Fuck. George, that you, mate?”

Ross.

“Yeah, yeah it’s me.” He answered in a slow breath, “How’d you know to call?”

“It’s everywhere, mate. They say she got jumped, is it true? Is she alright?”

Jumped.

His mind lingered on that word. Staring off down the corridor. Lingered on the fact that people in their shitty fucking town were already gossiping about it. It made him hate himself a little bit more.

“She’s asleep.” Was all that he replied.

“Is she. Okay. George.” Ross demanded before the line went quiet once more, eerily George could still hear the other boy’s resolved glare from down the phone. It was a hard image not to picture.

“She’s,” He had to pause, force down the wetness in his tone, the tears that were coming. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Ross stressed and George had never heard him sound so serious. So grown up.

“They found her on the road just off of mine. Some woman.” He swallowed again, though the salvia was just pooling in his mouth at this point. “Y/n. She, she was screaming- sobbing. I only knew about it when I heard the sirens, the lights. I- I just had a feeling, Ross. I ran down, hoping, praying, but… Fuck.”

He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and pinched the bridge of his nose, breaths laboured.

“George?” Ross called out to him, “You still there?”

“Yeah,” He rasped in reply, straining to keep his voice even as he wet the flesh of his lip. “She. She’s been checked over, they have her on a drip. No broken bones, just a few sprains. Said she jumped from a window.”

“She did what?”

“I don’t know. I don’t fucking know what happened, but it weren’t good.” George muttered to himself, bloodshot eyes trained on an off-centred tile a way away. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say. She- there was so much blood, Ross.”

“Blood? What the fuck are you talking about, what went on?” Ross hissed down the phone, George knew that he wasn’t really asking him.

“Stab wound to her shoulder.” He answered though, needing to get it all out, in fear he’d never be able to again. “Wasn’t very deep but they stitched it up. Along with the cut on her head.”

“Hang on- stabbed? George, what?”

“I don’t know, Ross!” He stressed, tears blurring his vision now as he thought back to her sat there on that roadside, beaten, alone, sobbing. “I don’t know, okay! I just- I don’t know what to do. What do I do? What do I say?”

A long pause.

“It’s my fault.” He whispered brokenly into the receiver, “I let her leave. I let her go home.” He admitted quietly, tear rolling down the skin of his cheek. “It’s my fault, Ross.”

“G… mate, you can’t say that. It’s- you didn’t know.”

He did. He knew. He’d known for a long time how bad it was. How bad it’d been. He knew. He knew. He knew. 

“It’s all my fault.”

A piercing scream startled him then and he all but dropped the phone to dart in its direction. Three long strides and he was at her door, shouting at the idiot that’d come in to tamper with the IV beside her, his entire body trembling. 

“Get out!” He demanded, hands shaking in fury, in fear. Before he looked towards her, hating that he saw that same terror reflected on her face. He rushed to her side and she grabbed aimlessly for his hand, he let her take it. Let her burrow her face in his chest as he wrapped an arm around her and settled on the edge of the bed. “I’m here.” He murmured into her hair, “I’m here, Birdie.”

——

No one should’ve known, no one had heard it from me. 

But everyone did.

The police had been by. Twice.

So had Matty’s mum, she’d charged in this morning and started making demands. Not daring to touch me, to ask questions.

She sat with me whilst they ran more tests, George outside with the boys. They were quiet. All four of them. I would’ve felt humiliated, deep down I probably did, but I couldn’t feel much of anything with how horrified I was. With how my mind never let up, never let me rest.

He’d been arrested, an officer had told me. Not charged, not yet. Maybe not ever.

My mum had come by asking questions, someone had sent her away. I hadn’t seen her. 

Next thing I knew I was being carted out of the hospital and into the back of Denise’s car with a pile of leaflets and a therapist to contact. No one said a word. 

The police were outside of Matty’s when we arrived, I ignored them until my eyes found George hunched on the settee. He was still in the same trackie bottoms from before, I could tell because they were still littered with specs of my blood. The white t-shirt was gone though, replaced by one of Matty’s biggest hoodies, which still looked too small on him.

Denise and George stayed with me whilst I was questioned again, repeating the same answers again and again. The boys just outside. I told the officers most of what happened. Told them about the way he’d treated me, and mum. How she wasn’t to blame. How scared she’d been. Liar. 

They spoke to Denise as though I wasn’t there afterwards and, in a way, I supposed I wasn’t. Not really. Mind off elsewhere.

George had let me hold his hand through the entire thing, fingers pale against mine. He’d kept looking at me, every few seconds, as though he was scared I was going to disappear or maybe just fall apart.

I kept thinking back to him. To the ambulance ride. To the whispers he’d gifted me, the promises he’d made. How I’d lied. Liar. 

School had been and gone, my last day snatched from not just me, but all the boys too.

Denise let me have the guest room, running me a hot bath and laying out some clothes. I’d been thankful for the offer but wary, George had followed me up in silence and then planted himself on the floor outside the bathroom without a word.

He’d still been there when I’d let the door creak back open, lifted his head and given me a tired smile before we’d both puttered into the bedroom.

It was barely even afternoon before I crawled into the bed upstairs. Larger than I was used to, having been holed up on the same twin sized mattress I’d had since I was thirteen.

I was fearful that George would go home at that point, but he merely showered and borrowed some more clothes off of Matty. He dwarfed them but I smiled as he entered the room to silently set up the blow up mattress Denise had brought in.

Matty had stopped by to say goodnight, pain in his pretty brown eyes, but with a brave smile limning his lips. I’d let him squeeze my hand before he’d left, shutting the door quietly behind him. George took up space on the mattress below and I shuffled all the way to one end of the bed to reach my hand out towards him. He took it without a second thought and I fell asleep like that, with his hand tucked safely in mine, his thumb soothing careful circles into the back of my wrist.

—

“Are you sure, sweetheart? I mean, you’re barely even out of hospital.” Denise fussed over me as I waited for George to join us downstairs. 

It was finally Sunday. Which meant we were leaving. 

“I’m sure.” I told her quietly, she hid her frown well but I could still see it there, behind the lingering look she gave me.

“At least let me drop you both to the station, or pack you something to take with you.” Denise continued, I smiled when she cradled my cheek. “You’ve hardly eaten since I’ve seen you! Worries me.”

I knew it did. Matty had already brought me up both breakfast and lunch, and it was barely gone ten.

“I’ll take the lift if you really are offering.” I acquiesced and watched a smile bloom on her face.

“Right then, I’ll go grab my keys.”

She puttered off just before George shuffled his way down the stairs, Matty talking his ear off all the while. I smiled at the sight of them, at the way George rolled his tired eyes.

He’d hardly slept, same as me, but I still felt a twinge of guilt ripple through me when he caught my staring. 

“Oh look! It’s the second half to the pair of traitors I once called friends.” Matty scoffed as he bounced off the third step and dropped down onto the floor, he turned his nose up at me and I rolled my eyes in return. Unfazed by his melodramatics.

“Don’t be jealous, Healy. You’ll always be my favourite.” I smirked at him, hoping it looked as genuine as it felt. 

Matty grinned in turn whilst George settled the duffle he’d picked up from his yesterday by the front door, he strolled back over to join us.

“Hear that, G? I’m her favourite.” Matty boasted, sniffing with an overly pleased smile.

George wrapped an arm around my shoulder and, naturally, I leant into him. “Don’t think it matters, mate. You’ll still be stuck here, whilst we’re off in the city.”

Yeah. Matty now knew of our little secret. 

It had all come out late last night, when I’d fought tooth and nail with George about the trip down south. I still wanted to go, more now than ever. But he’d had his reservations.

With a childish scowl, Matty made a face in retaliation and propped himself up against the banister bar. “Still can’t believe you lied to us. I mean, where’s your sense of camaraderie?”

I chuckled to myself, hiding the soft sound in the groove of George’s shoulder.

“I’m stuck here, all fucking summer long, with Hann and Ross… mum too! I can already picture it! The four of us down at the pub, just drowning our sorrows and sniffling into our pints. You can’t actually leave me here with them!”

When I glanced back up Matty had seemingly decided to drop to his knees to beg for an invitation, hands clasped before him, that was also the same moment Denise decided to pop back in.

“Oh, Jesus Christ, Matthew. What in heavens are you up to now?” She scolded with a half-hearted huff, tutting as she shook her head at her eldest son. 

“I’m making a plea, mum.” Matty told her in all seriousness, barely sparing her a glance as she passed by. 

“For goodness sake.” Denise sighed, unable to do much else, which was almost always a given with anything Matty related. “Get up off the floor and make yourself useful, would you? I’ve got the hoover plugged in, be a dear and run over the rugs for me.”

Matty’s hands fell limply to his sides just as his mouth dropped in disbelief. He glanced back towards George and I. “You see what kind of hell you’re leaving me in? What teenage boy hoovers??” 

“Mine!” Denise told him simply, poking at his shoulder to get him to stand with smile, “Now, run along. I’ve got to drop these two off before their train leaves, haven’t I?”

George and I took that as our queue to start grabbing at our things, him swiping up the small suitcase Denise had taken from mine yesterday before I had the chance. I flattened my expression, showing my displeasure. 

“Mum.” Matty all but whined, neither one of them paying much attention to us now. “Can’t I just come? You know, see my mates off and all.”

Denise wasn’t a woman to be bargained with. “No, you’ll see them soon enough. Now, if you’d like to make your goodbyes while I start the car then have at.”

I bit back the giggle that wanted to escape me upon seeing Matty’s dejected face, whilst Denise double checked for her car keys and purse then slid out the front door yelling, “Five minutes!”

“You make it sound like I’d been sentenced to death, woman!” Matty shouted out after her and his mum’s reply was what broke the dam, letting a flood of muffled laughter escape me. “Hoover and you might just live to tell the tale, Matthew!”

Matty grumbled to himself, shaking his head before he peered back over at us with his hands on his hips, looking like a little old lady.

“So, you know what happened here then if I’m missing when you two get back.” He sighed, as though he’d already gone and accepted his fate. “Tell the coppers it was her, yeah? And have a party at my funeral, no fuckin’ tears or nothin’ either. Oh, and I want my coffin a bright pink, the flowers can-”

“Matt.” George spoke with an amused chuckle, cutting into Matty’s longwinded rant. He opened his arm out wide and snorted when the curly haired freak catapulted himself across the hall at him. 

“Gonna miss you lot.” Matty mumbled into George’s shoulder before he pulled away and stepped towards me, a little warily. I moved over to him, silently assuring him that I wanted a good cuddle too. He grinned down at me and I felt him press a gentle peck to the top of my head when he’d wrapped me up in his arms. “Make sure you bring me something back, yeah? Something sick.”

I smiled fondly as we parted, squeezing his fingers briefly. “Promise.”

Matty’s gaze trailed between the two of us then and a sly smirk begun to overwhelm his features. “And I want all the details about this-” he waved a hand between us, “when you get back.”

The fucker. Way to make things awkward, I thought. 

I honestly did go to correct him, to tell him that nothing had happened between George and I. But G beat me to it. 

Well, not really, because he didn’t deny anything of the sort, just laughed as he treaded closer to the door. “Bye, Matty.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Matty called out after us, and I chuckled as I followed George out. 

Always one to make a scene though, Matty stood and waved us off from the front step of the house once we’d both settled in the car and Denise had just begun to pull away.

His mum only sighed.

—

I shifted again for what felt like the umpteenth time. 

I was uncomfortable. Incredibly so, enough that I was quickly beginning to regret having been so stubborn about not postponing this entire trip when the offer had been there.  

“You alright?” George asked from where he sat across the table from me, his hands toying with a ticket. 

We were on the train now, the journey just under three hours. But we weren’t even a quarter of the way through yet and I was already dreading the rest of it.

I nodded in reply, still shuffling about. “Just can’t get comfortable.”

My body ached, my head and spine were bruised to bits, but it was just my hip that wouldn’t allow me to settle in my seat. The doctors reckoned I’d sprained it falling out that upstairs window, but they couldn’t do anything for the cramping I kept feeling other than offer me a prescription, which had just been an over-the-counter pain relief.

Tough fucking luck, hey?

“Here.” George motioned to me. I watched him jump up from the seat he’d fallen into when we’d first boarded and then jerk his head down at it. 

I frowned slightly but stood carefully before rounding the tiny table which had separated us, observing closely as he rolled up his hoodie and bundled it against the car’s window. He ushered me in afterwards and I went, letting him take the seat beside me so that he could pull my legs up to lay across his lap.

“Better?” He questioned, a hand wrapped loosely around my ankle now.

I smiled and gifted him a grateful nod. It’d helped a ton actually.

“Good.” He replied, then pulled out a tiny notebook from the duffle he’d brought with him, “‘Cause now there’ll be no excuses when I beat you in hangman.”

I laughed at that. “Oh, you’re on.”

—

George’s quiet laughter only agitated me further as I mumbled to myself about ‘fucking trains’ and ‘toffy twats who didn’t know when to shut the fuck up’ as we manoeuvred our way through the hectic crowds of Kings Cross Station.

We’d spent the last half of our journey surrounded by a bunch of rowdy university lads, who were obviously on their way back home. But listen, because I’m the very last person to have a bitch and a moan about people just enjoying themselves or having fun- even when it inconvenienced me, yeah? But these fucking ignorant twats had really pushed my limit. 

I mean, who the fuck starts a loud debate over their fucking political crushes? And then go on to boast to one another about where they’d be spending their summers whilst simultaneously mocking anyone who holidayed in ‘the isles’ or didn’t at all. 

I’d sent a wide eyed glance at George when they’d first started up and my disbelieving frown had quickly grown into me just biting my tongue to keep from ripping them each a new one when they’d started snickering at the rest of us. At the tiny family down the far end of the car, with its single mother and her chocolate covered toddler who was sporting an upset frown. At the elderly bloke cooped up in the far corner, who kept nervously jumping whenever the train rattled too hard against the tracks. Even at George and I. Because of my fucked up face and George’s nonplussed reaction.

George’s calming hand had been the only thing to keep me stated. Otherwise they never would’ve made it to the station. 

Should count themselves lucky.

“Don’t laugh, George. I hate people like that.” I grunted out as I rubbed at my hip again, thankful that I hadn’t fought him when he’d taken my suitcase. “Looking down on others, acting like their shit don’t stink the same.”

George visibly fought not to snort outright at that and I huffed.

“Keep on, Daniel, and you’ll be hearing a lot worse.” I told him pointedly, but smiled politely at the ticket officer as we passed through the barriers.

“Don’t doubt it.” George replied, hiking his duffle up higher over his shoulder. “But B, you’ve got to learn not to let people like that affect you. Otherwise I’d be having to fight off every idiot that looked at you funny.”

“I can fight my own battles, thank you.” I retorted primly.

George huffed out a chuckle. “I know that much, but no one’s gonna hurt you again with me around.”

My gaze focused on the buzzing swarm ahead, at the giant boards hanging high above us, anything but him. “I thought we weren’t talking about it.” I murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear and wincing when I forgot about the stitches in my shoulder.

I heard him sigh and said nothing more on the topic.

We’d just about made it to the taxi rank, where Aunt Del had said she’d be waiting for us yesterday, when George spoke up again. “I’m gonna grab some deodorant and shit from the pharmacy over there- forgot to pack it in with the rest. You want anything?”

I watched as he settled our bags down beside a bench and then jerk his head over towards a Boots nearby. I shrugged, “Maybe a drink. If you don’t mind?”

George flashed me a smile, waving off the second part of my comment. “Diet Coke, yeah?”

I nodded, flashing him an overdue smile, “You know me so well.”

He shook his head lightly, lips still upturned as he headed in the other direction. I sighed whilst slumping onto the bench.

I’d been in London five minutes and already I felt overwhelmed. The station was hectic, even on a Sunday! There were people everywhere, lights and signs adorned every possible space, and there was never a lulling moment of peace. Everyone was just go, go, go.

Saying that, it was possibly the best place I’d ever people watched. There were all sorts of personalities down here. I mean, it wasn’t everyday you spotted a 6ft woman with a mohawk the length of a tennis racket walking through the streets of Wilmslow. Or an old hippy dressed in a black bin bag, waving a guitar.

It was pretty incredible. And I took the time to search for all the anomalies littered amongst the suits and denim jeans, a game of Where's Wally?. I much preferred their eccentricity.

“Alright, they were out of the stuff I usually get so I got this instead, smelt nice enough though.” I glanced up at the sound of George’s voice and spotted him making his way back to me whilst peering down at the deodorant can he held in his hand. My drink was tucked up under his left arm and he had a carrier bag dangling from his wrist. “What d’you think?” He asked when he reached the bench, holding the can out towards me. I sniffed at the scent whilst he settled the drink he’d purchased beside me and quickly tucked the bag into his duffle. 

“I like it.” I told him honestly, glancing down at the label. “It’s different.”

“That good or bad?” He chuckled in reply and I smiled.

“Good. You’ll pull any one you fancy now that you’ve got something to cover that awful smell that often follows you about.”

His eyes wrinkled as he pulled a face in retaliation, “Hilarious, you. Why’d I ever let you talk me into coming again?”

I chuckled to myself, grinning up at him when he moved in closer to swipe the deodorant from my grasp. “‘Cause you’d be lost without me- dead bored too.”

He hummed, as though mulling it all over. Then leaned down towards me, nose almost touching mine as his face broke into a smile. “Sounds about right.”

I wanted to crane my neck up in that moment, let my lips brush against his. It was all I wanted in truth. But I didn’t dare. Too terrified of how he’d react. If every lie I’d heard ever told about me turned out to be true. If I was just as worthless as their words painted me to be.

“Yeah. It does, don’t it?”

George’s grin was large but still soft somehow, and his brown eyes danced between my own whilst the station continued to buzz around us. He hummed again, rocking on his feet, edging ever so closer.

Smash!

We both jolted apart at the sudden commotion, heads snapping up and over towards the loud bang. We both snorted at the same time, having spotted the culprit.

“They’re a fucking whole different breed down here.” George laughed lowly, shaking his head at a hefty looking pigeon that had seemingly taken the opportunity to try and nab a sandwich from out of an older woman’s hand- only it’d flown headfirst into a shop’s swinging sign.

I could only agree with his statement before I pivoted slightly, pausing only when I spotted another older woman waving her arms about wildly just outside the station doors. My jaw dropped for a second before I found myself chuckling at the sight, nudging George’s side to grab his attention too. He only raised his brows at the mad cow dressed in orange dungarees and a striped tee who was so obviously waving at us.

“I reckon everything down here’s different, G.” I snorted before I was waving back at my Aunt just as eagerly, already gathering up our stuff.

“No shit.” Is all I heard George say in return.

…

“Oh my Christ, ain’t you just grown so big!” Was the first thing Aunt Del said after she’d sprinted over to wrap me up in a long-overdue hug. “My, I swear you look like the double of me when I was your age.” She breathed out, her bright red lips matching her cherry coloured hair, gentle green eyes gazing down at me.

“Hi to you too, Aunt Del.” I chuckled, smiling back at her. She hadn’t changed at all from the day I remembered her, just as bubbly and as lovable as ever. 

“Oh psh, none of that hello nonsense!” She retorted, blowing out a willowy breath as she waved a hand between us both. “I’m too excited! Have been ever since your Nan mentioned the visit. I can’t believe how long it’s been, doll!”

“I know.” I said in quiet agreement, my hand finding hers just before I shuffled over to reveal the tall teenage boy stood not too far behind me. “Oh Aunt Del, this is my friend, George. G, this is my Auntie Delany.”

Aunt Del’s eyes brightened as she took in all George had to offer, grinning a wry little smile before she squeezed my hand tightly. “Your Nana mentioned you were bringing a friend…” She let slip and then nodded her head for George to come closer, “But she never said he’d be a looker. How’re you, love? The train treat you alright?”

I gave a silent snort at the wobbly expression George’s face pulled itself into when my aunt tugged him into a hug as well. He gifted me a bewildered glance from over her shoulder and I shrugged, attempting to bite back my mad smile. He knew it was there though, I could tell from the brief scowl he sent me before they were pulling apart.

“Tall, handsome… you smart as well, darlin’? Or are you only a pretty face?” Aunt Del pondered as she stepped back and tilted her head up at him.

“Del.” I warned, but George’s mouth just quirked upwards ever so slightly.

“Smart enough to know when to use the pretty face to my advantage.” He quipped back easily, and I was relieved to hear Del’s sweet laugh.

“Oh, I like this one, Y/n.” She whispered theatrically, glancing over her shoulder at me before another flood of people escaped the station and she started ushering us away. “Come on now, kiddos. Parked the car over here, din’t I?”

My forehead pinched in concern, “In a taxi rank?”

“Well, where else?” Del laughed, dragging my suitcase along ahead of us while George shot me another bewildered look.

I could only assume that we’d be loaded with a hefty fucking fine.

But before I could voice that, or at least allude to it, Aunt Del had already pulled out a chain of gangly keys on an old piece of string and wandered over to a pink coloured cab.

I blinked at the sight of it. Del caught the look because she was grinning over at me from where she’d just placed my suitcase in the boot. “Good old Hewson here always gets a few heads turning, don’t you, beaut?” Aunt Del said as she patted the cab’s side, I was still taking it all in.

“Sorry, Hewson?” I questioned as she motioned to George to throw his duffle in the back too, “You named your car Hewson?”

But before Aunt Del could answer me, George cut in. He had his thinking face on.

“Hewson as in Bono?” He wondered aloud and Del spun right around to grin at him, he shut the boot for her.

“Bingo. I knew I had a good feeling about you!” Aunt Del exclaimed with a finger extended towards the chuckling teenager. She turned back to me, shaking her head in mock disappointment, “I thought for sure you’d get it, dove.”

With a wry grin I could only shrug my shoulder at her, “Sorry to disappoint, Aunt Del, but G here is the music expert between us.”

Del’s smile only appeared to widen as she shot around to the drivers side door, “Well have I got a playlist in here for you then! Only the greats, mind. So you’d best have brushed up on your seventies trivia.”

George all but beamed as he followed her over and opened up the backdoor for me, very much in his element now. I slid into the cab first, smiling at the leopard print seats and sequinned roof, then G swiftly followed.

“Oh, a gentleman too, is he?” Aunt Del cooed from the front where a pair of fuzzy dice hung from the rearview mirror, her hands gripping at the neon coloured wheel. “You’ve hit the jackpot with this one.” She winked at me and I looked away to hide my flush. “So my Georgie-pie, you get on alright with The Jam?”

George’s hand found my knee as he leant forward in his seat to grin alongside my aunt, the pair of them chatting away whilst she jolted into reverse and out of the bay. I gripped at the door’s handle to keep from being thrown about when we took off down Pancras Road, Town Called Malice blasting out over the noise of the noisy city.

…

My cheeks had begun to hurt from how hard I’d been smiling throughout the entire ride down to the simple terraced house my grandparents owned in Bethnal Green. From what I could recall, it’d been the house my grandfather had grown up in, he’d only inherited it after the Second World War when his own mother had passed away from fever, his father having died earlier on whilst stationed at the frontline. He’d raised both of his kids there, my dad and Aunt Del, after his stoop in prison, before they’d both grown up and he’d eventually passed on as well. Leaving only my Nan and Delaney left.

It wasn’t a very busy street, all the houses old and built right beside the other, but it was nice, pretty even. A vast change in pace to the busy streets of the city we’d driven through on the way over.

Del was still talking a mile a minute when she pulled up into a marked bay, only narrowly avoiding hitting the curb whilst an old Grateful Dead tune continued to blare through the speakers. George hopped out first, slipping around to my side and opening the door for me so that he could help ease me out as well, his hand stayed in mine even as we moved to join Aunt Del by the boot.

“Here’re.” Del said, divvying up the luggage between George and herself. I sighed, but it fell into more of an unhappy groan when I reached up to shut the back door of the car only to have George beat me to it.

“I haven’t lost all capability.” I muttered to him whilst Aunt Del locked up the cab and took off down the pavement, excited to get us inside.

George’s fingers linked between mine and he tugged me closer, his duffle back on his shoulder. “I know that,” He murmured into my ear, breath tickling the skin of my neck, “But it makes me feel useful, yeah?”

I sighed again, only softer this time around, as I slumped into his embrace, letting him have this one thing. At least for a short while. I knew that soon enough it’d start to drive me mad.

“You two lovebirds comin’ or am I gonna have to stand here all day?” Del mocked from where she was now rocking back and forth at the top of a set of high steps, stood in front of an indistinct door.

I shot her a sharp look which she only grinned to, before George and I ascended the short staircase too. Del already had her gangly keys back out again and we watched on as she shoved a Yale cut key into the top lock, shouting out a warning as she tumbled on through it, “Mum, I’ve brought back Northerners!”

I giggled to myself as I followed in after her, eyes racking over everything that they possibly could. We’d entered into a long narrow hallway where an old cast iron radiator still stood atop a mosaic tiled floor. The walls here had been painted a softened white and victorian blue, the blue sat beneath a moulding halfway up and spilled out onto the staircase that’d been fitted with a warm beige runner. Photo frames littered the place, diving beneath a carved ceiling arch and around a few brass fixtures. It was beautiful, homey.

George shut the heavy wooden door quietly behind us and I heard a shuffle sound farther up ahead. Del gestured us further inside, dropping our luggage at the foot of the stairs before wandering down the walkway. We followed silently, both George and I feeling the nerves edge in now, and we were quite surprised to shuffle into an open kitchen and spot a petite looking woman relaxed in an dining chair, cigarette in one hand and a TV Times in the other. She glanced up once we’d entered and the sight of her had my heart climbing to my throat, her toothy smile reminded me a lot of the pictures I'd seen of my dad.

“Well, ain’t this lovely?” My Nana chirped, already moving to stub out the remnants of her fag in a glass ashtray before standing. George released my hand so I could go meet her, legs trembling slightly. “My little dove, how you’ve grown, hey? All big now. Too tall.” She grinned at me as I dipped down a tad to bury my face into her neck.

“Hey, Nana.” I whispered, my smile shaky as she ran a soothing hand over the length of my back.

When she pulled away she pressed a thin, ring clad hand to my cheek, eyes taking me in. “You’re alright, darlin’. Looking so beautiful too. Oh, how I’ve missed ya.”

I chuckled wetly, but didn’t let the shimmering tears that’d begun to well fall, “Missed you too.” More than she knew. “It feels so mad to be here, I remember bits and pieces but not much.”

“Ah the last time you were ‘ere, ought to’ve been when you were about six. You made a right old mess of this kitchen. Treckin’ in mud and kickin’ your feet. My God, your dad had gone mad- couldnt help his grin though when you’d started singin’ that tune he so loved. What was it again, my darlin’?”

“You Make My Pants Want to Get Up and Dance.” I answered her in a whispered chuckle, the song a vivid reminder of days we’d spent dancing around this very room.

Nana released a sweet laugh and turned to Del, “You remember, don’t you, Del? The pair of ‘em, prattling about the place.”

Aunt Del shared a conspiratorial grin with me, nodding from where she’d taken perch over by the fridge. “Oh yeah. That one Christmas mornin’, it was all that’d been on. Drove me bloody mental.”

“See?” Nana enforced, hand falling to my upper arm, “What I tell ya? Might be gettin’ on a bit but my mind’s still as quick as a whip.”

I smiled, but that was when she finally took note of the giant stood crowding her kitchen doorway. George wore a soft smile that only grew in nervousness when my nan’s gaze sought him out. “And this must be the famous friend!” She teased, already motioning him over. “Come on, love. I don’t bite.”

George blew out a small chuckle and walked over to join us, surprising me when he leaned down to wrap an arm around the petite woman. My Nana smiled proudly and gently squeezed George’s wrist when they pulled apart.

“It’s good to finally meet you.” George assured her, his tone quiet, warm.

“And you, sweetheart.” My Nana spoke, smiling up at him. “But my, ain’t you tall? Remind me a bit of my Charlie, you do. He was a giant too, always dwarfed me in size whenever he took my hand. Only ever saw his tie when we was dancin’, and din’t he just love to complain of a sore neck, bendin’ down to greet me whenever he came home from wherever he’d been.”

I giggled quietly to myself, watching the pair. Enamoured.

“Got those eyes of his too, kind but quick. Too smart for yer own good, ain’t ya sometimes? Trouble finds you.”

George’s eyes glanced over towards me at that and he could only agree. “She does.”

Both my Nana and Aunt Del laughed at that, catching on to his sentiment whilst I just tutted and shook my head. “You’re lucky to have me.”

“Ain’t he just.” Nana confirmed with a dip of her chin, her blue eyes twinkling now beneath the kitchen light. “A right pair you make. Reckon we’ll have a few more stories to tell once you leave.”

“You’ve gone and jinxed it now.” George chuckled teasingly, obviously settling in fine, “Only got yourself to blame.”

Nana clucked her tongue, eyes on Del whilst she motioned her head in G’s direction, “Funny, this one. You hearin’ this too, Del? Quite the joker we have.”

I could only grin and watch on as my seventy-three year old nan cajoled George into the chair beside hers. It quickly fell though when I heard how she was planning to spill a few stories from my childhood to him. And I couldn’t even stop her because Aunt Del was already dragging me back out of the kitchen, claiming she needed help picking up dinner from the local takeaway. George merely sent me a reassuring grin when I’d casted an alarmed glance back over my shoulder, and I felt the anxiety in me fall away. 

—

It was a long while after dinner when George and I finally got the first bit of quiet since having left Manchester.

The four of us, being Nana, George, Aunt Del and I, had all camped out in the living-room shortly after Del and I had returned to the house with a couple bags of food- fish and chips actually, from this tiny little shop up on the main road that Del had raved about. 

We’d all been more than hungry so we’d been quick settle down. The tele had been stuck straight on, the very same that’d been there a decade prior, and apparently Nana’s preference for game shows hadn’t changed either, so we’d all spaced out around it, not paying much attention to who was winning or losing. Just talking about the things you did with family.

Nana’s dog, Cyril, had plodded in from the upstairs landing as soon as he’d sniffed out the food. He was this big slobbering beast of a thing that I immediately fell in love with. A great bullmastiff with a red and fawn-coloured coat, who’d gone and plopped himself down on the tops of my feet. George had been taken with him too, cooing to him in the armchair opposite and pouting when the dog hardly spared him a glance. Both Nana and Del had chuckled, Aunt Del saying, “Cyril ain’t too fond of men- din’t give dad the time of day when he was home either. Only ever noticed him when he had a lead in his hand.” George had looked determined though. 

When the plates had been cleared away, Cyril jumped up on the sofa between Nana and I, he’d sniffed at her leg before she’d shooed him off down my end, and he did as he was told, looking over at me with these big puppy-dog eyes. I’d let him curl up beside me, head in my lap, stroking the scruff of his neck as we continued to catch up, Nana asking after George and his life. She was set on getting to know him.

A couple hours had passed before the older woman had shuffled the pair of us on up the staircase when I’d started yawning though, and Aunt Del said that she’d let Cyril out into the garden before she took off home herself, promising to pop back round the very next day. George had helped tidy the living-room away as I’d said my goodbyes to her, catching Nana in the hallway once the door had closed.

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but thank you.” I’d whispered to her in the quiet warmth of the evening light that’d fluttered in. She’d simply taken my hand and gifted me a soft smile in turn.

“You were always welcome here, sweetheart. Just needed you to see it.” Nana had replied, “And anyway, I should be the one thankin’ you. Ain’t had such a lovely time since it was all of us living here together. Feels nice havin’ the house full of people again. And that lad of yours is a real charmer, in’t he? Lovely, lovely boy.”

I’d gone to correct her, mouth halfway agape when she’d just chuckled and pointed a finger up at me. “None of that now. Only known him a couple of hours but I see the way he looks at you, my love.”

It was eerily similar to what Ross had said to me all those weeks before.

“He’s patient too. Bit like your grandfather there. And gentle, which is somethin’ that’s obviously needed when knockin’ about with you. ’Cause don’t think for one second I’ve not noticed the big black eye you’re sporting under that makeup of yours, or the face you pull each time you sit or stand up.”

I’d looked away from her aged eyes, so full of emotion, to hide my guilt. Nana had only grasped my chin though and steered my face back towards her, “But that’s for another time, alright darlin’? You need sleep- must’ve been mental bein’ on all those silly trains. I’ll tell you something now, I never could step on another after the war’d ended, too many reminders, you know?”

Too many reminders. Yeah, that was something I did know. 

I’d only nodded silently at her though and the pair of us listened to the quiet murmur George had made when he’d tried once more to make friends with Cyril. Nana had chuckled and squeezed my chin between her fingers before George had stepped out into the hallway to join us, a little surprised to find us there. An apology had been on the tip of his tongue, obviously not having meant to interrupt, but Nana had swiftly cut him off, stating that she’d already made up the spare bed and laid out a few towels for us.

I’d given her cheek a gentle kiss in an unsaid thanks, still so beyond grateful, and George had followed, smiling to himself when he’d bent down for her and the older woman had whispered something in his ear. She’d shooed us on up after quickly after, patting George’s back just as Cyril trotted to stand beside her at the bottom of the stairs. Our light footsteps had trailed all the way up and then across the landing. 

So as I’d been saying, the quiet that’d settled upstairs in the far bedroom was something of a reprieve. As much as I’d loved spending time with Nana, Aunt Del, and Cyril too, it was nice to shut the door on all the noise and madness and take a second to just breathe.

The spare bedroom sat at the very front of the house, it looked out onto the street below and homed sash-windows which were currently being illuminated by the evening sun shining through. The floor was made of hardwood, glossy and dark in comparison to the lighter walls that had been panelled with pretty mouldings. A fireplace sat at one end too, directly opposite the bed, it was old, one I’d have to ask Nana about using, but had a delicate vase of lilies sat atop it as well as a brass framed mirror.

My eyes flittered about the space, taking in the ancient radio on the windowsill with its lengthy aerial, the large chest sat at the foot of the bed, as well as the wearing guitar propped up against the wall in the corner. George’s eye caught on that too and he wandered over to it first.

“Belonged to my dad.” I told him as I tiptoed over to the edge of the bed, taking a seat there as my gaze continued to roam. “It was his room, shared it with Del when they were kids but then she took over the downstairs den when she’d hit fourteen. Den’s gone now, think they knocked it through to make more room for the kitchen’s renovation after she moved out.”

George hummed and put the instrument back in its place before spinning on his heel, his gaze trailing between me and the bed. 

“You still alright to share?” I asked him, wondering if perhaps he was thinking better of it now. “I could set up the sofa if not.”

Shaking his head, George must’ve shaken off whatever other emotion that’d made him pause because he padded over to join me. “Nah, it’ll be fine.”

His voice was low and as he flopped down onto the mattress beside me I could only smile, thankful for the fact that he hadn’t changed his mind.

“Good.” I responded, grinning over at his slumped form sprawled out on the crisp white sheets, “‘Cause if you can spoon with Matty then you should be alright spending a couple nights shacked up with me.”

George snorted, hands resting on his chest, eyes turned towards the ceiling. “That’s different. We fell asleep on the settee, and he’s a cuddler.”

Still amused by the picture my mind conjured up, I hummed. “And to think you two once hated each other.”

“Wouldn’t say hate. Bit strong there, B.”

I rolled my eyes before glancing down at the spot beside him, silently deliberating. George must’ve noticed because he took my hand in his and tugged me down, laughing when I yelped in surprise.

We stayed there for a short while in silence, his fingers grazing gently at my arm, both of us listening to the heavy paws of Cyril on the stairs and the cars that passed by outside.

He inhaled a little deeper, “How you feeling then?”

I turned my head against the sheets to peer up at him. “Being here?” I questioned him and he nodded, “I feel good. Tired, but good. Happy. Didn’t realise home could feel like this, you know?”

George blew out a breath and scooted a little closer, close enough to drape an arm across the space above my head and come to rest on his side. “Do you want to talk about it now?”

I knew what he meant. He wanted to talk about that night.

I raised my good shoulder in a shrug. “Not much to say. I hope he rots in a cell for a bit though, ‘cause we both know they’ll let him back out soon enough.”

George’s jaw tightened at my words but his eyes stayed soft, locked on me. “Well I hope he finds a decent cliff and takes a dive off it.”

I shot him a look. “G..”

He shrugged, uncaring, but the gentle touch of his fingers tangling themselves into my hair was anything but. “Ain’t gonna lie to you, Birdie. He deserves worse. I-” His eyes slipped closed as he took a breath to calm himself, “Look, I can’t take back what happened. Turn back time and all that just to erase it all. But I can make sure that it never happens again.”

“You can’t be sure though, George. That’s not how life works.” I murmured into the quiet that followed his solemn assurance.

“Well it’s how it’s gonna have to work.” Was all that he replied to me. Ever so stubborn.

His eyes were still closed, that familiar warmth of his sheltered behind fluttering lids, I reached out to trail my fingers across them and then down the bridge of his nose. “This okay?”

He hummed sweetly, mouth twitching when my fingertips traced its curve. He was always so close, only ever a breath away, but even now it felt like we were toeing at invisible lines, both of us too afraid to make that jump.

“I like your nan.” He told me then and I huffed out a small chuckle at the unexpected revelation. “Del too.” He added.

“I’m glad.” I replied with a soft smile of my own, staring down at him even as he blinked his eyes back open. They roamed the entirety of my face, taking in every detail.

“They remind me of you.”

My smile broadened, pleased to hear that. “Oh yeah?”

George hummed a low confirmation. “You want to know what your Nana to me said as we were headin’ up?”

My eyes flickered up to meet his whilst I trailed over a constellation of freckles on his cheek. “What?”

He chuckled deeply, grin wrinkling his nose. “She said, run her a bath, will you? And keep the noise down if you ever do get the balls to make a move.”

A sharp laugh escaped me, eyes wide and alive. “I swear, she’s an actual menace.”

George smirked lazily, “Right though.”

I blinked, all humour suddenly lost as I stared back at him. 

“Right about what?” I asked him quietly, heart in my throat.

His hand stilled in my hair and he knocked his forehead against my own, our noses brushed just above the sheets and he gifted me the sweetest smile. “This.” He whispered back, right before he titled his head and grazed his lips against mine.

—

I’d been on a high all morning. Having woken up in George’s arms under a stream of sunlight.

There’d been a light scuffle out in the hallway, probably Nana getting up to let Cyril out, and I’d laid there listening to the gentle song of the birds outside as well as George’s quiet breathing. He looked different in this light, lashes casting dark shadows across his apples of his cheeks and lips poutier than I’d ever seen them. It’d been struggle not to reach out.

Instead, I’d reluctantly slipped from his grasp when the urge to use the loo became too much to bare and decided to finally have that bath Nana had suggested last night whilst I waited for him to wake. 

Yesterday had honestly been everything I’d been waiting for. With George I just felt so safe, so… loved. Was that a strange way to feel? Maybe it was. But I didn’t care, I thought about it though as I let the steam from the water engulf me, the heat of it doing wonders for my aching bones.

We hadn’t gone any further than kissing. Though if he had tried to cop a feel I wouldn’t of denied him. He was rather sweet about the whole thing actually and we’d spent the time afterwards shooting each other coy smiles as we got ready for bed.

I pulled myself up out of the tub once my hands had begun to wrinkle, hating the feel of it. I wrapped myself in a fluffy towel and combed through my hair once my feet had dampened the bath mat, but groaned when I realised I’d forgotten to grab some clothes beforehand.

Wiggling my jaw as I clasped my bottom lip between my forefinger and thumb, I contemplated just heading back out into the bedroom. George was probably still asleep and I could simply roll my suitcase back in here without waking him.

Yeah, that sounded like the best option.

So I took a deep breath as I silently slipped out of the bathroom and across the landing into the shared room. I was in for the shock of my life though when I spotted George sat up in bed, duvet pooled around his hips as he rubbed tiredly at his eye. His head turned towards me when he heard the handle lift and he stilled in his movements. 

I must’ve looked a right picture, frozen in the doorway with my gob halfway to the floor, and I watched a slow but obvious smirk creep across George’s features as he dropped his arm to get a good old look at me.

I narrowed my eyes in retort and feigned as much confidence as I possibly could with his eyes stuck on me, before I made my way over to where my suitcase was sat. “It’s rude to stare, you know.”

George laughed, it was a gruff and low sound, littered with sleep. “Just wonderin’ if I’m still dreamin’- nice sight to wake up to ’s all.”

I scoffed out a quiet, disbelieving chuckle, “Oh yeah, black eyes get you going, do they?”

“On you? Anything would.”

I flushed at his comment and dropped down to hide it as I worked my way through the pile of clothes I had in my case, gripping the top of my towel.

“Who are you and what have you done with George?” I tossed the question over my shoulder, still feeling his eyes on me. “‘Cause the real George would never act this shameless.”

I could feel his shrug ripple throughout the room. “Teenage boy. Besides, you know I’m the real deal ‘cause when have I ever lied to you?”

My tongue was in my cheek as I shifted through a few tops, he wasn’t wrong there. “I just forgot to grab some clothes before I jumped in the bath. Thought you’d still be asleep.”

“Woke up just before you came in.”

I hummed. Talk about timing. 

“You sleep alright?” He asked and I could hear him shuffling about now behind me. I wanted to take a peek, see what he was up to, but focused on grabbing what I needed instead.

What had he asked again? Oh, “Um, yeah actually.” Best one I’d had in weeks, if we were being painfully honest. “You?”

“Knackered after that journey yesterday but I stayed up a bit after you passed out.” George replied and I jumped ever so slightly when I felt him drape his arms over my shoulders, chin resting against the side of my head. “You look angelic even when you snore.”

I elbowed him lightly and shook my head. “I don’t snore, you knob.”

“Oh but you do.” George chuckled roughly, “Sounds a bit like this.”

He then proceeded to make horrible snoring sounds in my ear, making me cringe and forcing me to wiggle out of his grasp to escape them. “Ah don’t do that! It makes me feel all bleh.” I shivered to exaggerate the feeling whilst he simply laughed.

“What?” He exclaimed teasingly, “That’s what I had to deal with, all night!”

I chucked the top I’d been holding at him. “Idiot. And to think I let you kiss me.”

A beat passed between us and I feared I’d fucked things by bringing it up. I casted a nervous glance at him when I went to try and retrieve a hoodie or something like it.

“Surprised you broke first. Was betting that I’d have to.” George told me, wearing a lopsided grin, he walked over to the duffle that was laid open by the dresser and grabbed at a grey sweatshirt. “Here’re have this.”

I glanced down at it, then back up at his face. I took it carefully, “Thanks.”

He hummed and moved back towards the duffle to find some clothes of his own to wear.

I was then reminded of what he’d just said, “Hang on, you made a bet with yourself?”

George shot me a toothy grin, “‘You don’t do that?”

I shrugged, unsure. Hadn’t really thought about it. “So, we’re still okay then? You know-”

“After you kissed me?” He teased and I scowled.

“After you kissed me, you mean.”

“Whatever you say, Birdie. But I ‘spose we’ll never truly know.” He was being a twat.

“You’re being a twat.” I told him rightly, but unable to help my light chuckle, “You know you kissed me first.”

He hummed, unconvinced.

“G!” I complained but he merely laughed before waving me off.

“Go get changed, will you?”

“Why?” I challenged him, a bundle of clothes tucked up under my arm. “I’m rather alright as I am, thanks.”

“‘Cause you’re driving me half mad stood there like that.” He quipped back with a hand extended out towards me, “Besides, your nan will come looking if neither one of us turns up to breakfast.”

I grinned, “Reckon I’m that easy do you, Georgie?”

He paused and stopped his riffling to meet my gaze head-on. “No, I just know that if you’d let me I’d spend as long as I could admiring every part of you.”

Pursing my lips to fight my smile, I said, “Nana was right about another thing.”

George titled his head at me, sporting a pleased grin. “And what would that be?”

“You, George Daniel, are a right charmer.”

He snorted with a roll of his eyes then turned back to his duffle. “You love it.” He snarked back, sounding sure.

And he had every right to be, because that was one of the many things I loved about him.

Part Twenty-five>

#the 1975 #george daniel #george daniel the 1975 #george daniel fic #george 1975 #george daniel x reader #matty #matty healy #george daniel x you #1975 #best friend matty #the 1975 band #fic #adam hann #ross macdonald #carly holt #1975 band #matty 1975 #series #work #exes to lovers #y/n #reader #multi part fic #x you #x reader #angst #fluff #humour #drama

[coleaep]

🤍AT HIS WORST🤍

Kurt Cobain x Reader

1167 words

WARNINGS: mentions of virginity loss, sex. Heavy suicide mention. Depressing.

Lmk if I missed something

Before Kurt and i married each other we had a friendship. It was a trouble making, punk, but quiet teenage friendship.

At one point he told me about his parents and his pot addiction. To be honest I didn't like it, but I didn't tell him that. Kurt was already to shattered to hear me nag at him tell him it's not good for him as well as to stop.

But that was until my parents got divorced and none of them wanted me, leaving me no choice but to run. Not really though. I stayed with Kurt at a run down place.

I was hanging out with Kurt one day while he was smoking and I decided to take a hit, I mean .. I had nothing to lose.

I don't know when it was that Kurt had asked if we could take each other's virginity. I said yes, thinking I was going to never get a boyfriend.

After we had sex I caught feelings for him and I hated it. He wasn't stable enough to be in a relationship and he knew that. Although when we turned 16 we got together. I suppose it was to seal the lonely hole we both had in our hearts.

Once we turned 20, we got engaged and then married but just before that I got pregnant with his baby.

____

And so now we had a 2 year old girl.

I also started to feel like Kurt was acting strange. Almost dead..

His smile rarely came onto his face when he was around not only his band mates, but me as well and it made me feel scared yet also insecure that his love for me was fading.

I knew confrontation wouldn't be the best for him since he's to fragile so I just decided to ask him how he was going.

__

I walk inside the house after going out to buy some groceries and I head to both mine and Kurt's bedroom, but yet I find it empty.

I tip-toe to the bathroom unsure of where the man was.

"KURT! NO!". I smack the shot gun away from his head, dropping to my knees and clinging onto him so tightly I thought I might suffocate him. It takes him a second to realise I was there. "I'm sorry Yn" he cries immensely as I do to. "Kurt... please don't leave", i cough.

"I'm so broken" he continues and I hush him. I couldn't sit there and let him say he wanted to end himself. I wouldn't let him. "Please Kurt .. j..just talk to me. Let me understand".

Sniffles and coughs come from us both as we hold onto each other. I didn't want but I knew I had to let go of him. Just to hear him say what's going on in his head. I knew it would be hard for him to explain or even just say but I didn't care.

I untangle myself from him and keep his hands tightly in mine. " I know you deserve better Yn..", he mutters. "No. Kurt, no. I'm not gunna let you say that. Baby, please" I cup his face in my hands and I look into his ocean blue eyes. I don't know what I would do if I lost the opportunity to look at them.

I felt like I couldn't ever leave him alone anymore. This just proved that he had no idea how much I needed him.

We sat in silence for what felt like hours. I held his hands in my lap whilst his head rested on my shoulder.

"Kurt..." I whispered. He hummed in response. "Lilly has to be picked up and I want you to come with me.." "k" was all he said before we got up and went outside and into his car. As we drove to the preschool Kurt held onto my arm securing it in his embrace.

_

As we walk through the small playground in search of our child, Kurt kept his head down. I wanted to comfort him but I didn’t know how.

“DADDY!”. (C/n) wobbled over to us with her arms open wide. “Hey baby”. I could see a small tear drop fall on (C/n) ‘s head whilst she hugged his leg.

“Hey princess, wanna have a sleepover with grandma tonight” I suggest and her smile glows as she nods. “Ok” I smile and we walk back out to the car.

__

The drive to Kurt’s mothers house took about 20 minutes. I could see multiple tiny drops of tears coming from Kurt’s eyes during the 20 minutes.

I got out of the car once we arrived and Kurt’s mother waited at the front door. I said my goodbyes and rushed back to the car.

As before the drive back home was way to quiet. The silence was almost deafening. I turned to face Kurt at one point, his already on mine. “I’m sorry…” he mumbled. Although it seemed like he wasn’t, I knew he was.

Instant tears flowed slowly down my cheeks. “I know..” I say, barely able to stabilise my words. “I just wanna .. u-understand baby” my hitches bud into my saying. “I know you do” he whispers back.

“I don’t like feeling trapped” “Kurt.. you mean like.. trapped in a marriage?” “No Yn. I feel trapped in my head cause my thoughts are trying to end me. It’s not you Yn. You and (C/n) mean the world to me. I don’t want you to see as me a broken down heroine addict. Especially (C/n)”.

I knew where he was coming from. But all I was thinking was the fact that if I was (C/n) I wouldn’t mind. I mean sure, him being addicted to drugs is bad but him still loving his child and me with all of him, was all that mattered and I wanted him to know that.

“You know Kurt..? I think (C/n and I are just lucky to have a dad and husband that loves us more than anything in this world. J just want you to know that. I really am not sure what you need to help you but I’ll do anything baby.”

“We can’t afford anything thing like a therapist Yn..” he says. “I’ll be your therapist. You can talk to me. Get things off your chest. Get them out so your not trapped”, I suggest, something in me told me he wouldn’t turn this down.

And in fact, he didn’t. “That means a lot Yn. And I’ll try.. see if it’ll get me out of my stupid brain for a minute”. “Kurt your not stupid. Your just an over thinker. I am to. But I tell our dog” he breathes out a chuckle at my last sentence and I do to.

“Ok. When we get home we are going to have a calm night ‘k?”, he nods at me and lays his hand on my thigh as we con the drive.

Its heavy but I’m going through some stuff so yeah…

#jj maybank #ahs #evan peters #american horror story #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank imagine #american horror coven #evan #evan peters fluff #evan peters smut #fluff #jj mayback imagine #jj mayback x reader #obx #smut #kurt cobain #kurt x reader #kurtcobainxreader

[kichous]

✧･ﾟ:*   but we were born to be alone

summary. nanami kento is probably the most reliable man you know. but by god is it hard to talk to him, sometimes. series. a night of dark trees. part one . part two . part three . part four you’re here ! pairings. past nanami kento x gn!reader. mentioned gojo satoru x gn!reader. warnings. none. word count. 1999

This is a massive ethics violation. If one were to look up the definition of ‘conflict of interest,’ a photo collage of every one of your sessions with Nanami Kento would be directly underneath it. You’d known this when you first started dating Kento, shortly after he abandoned the mundane world for this cavalcade of peril known as jujutsu sorcery. When you brought it up to him, he hadn’t cared.

“That makes your dating pool rather small,” he’d commented instead, not unkindly yet neither pitying. He was right. It’s not like you have any other colleagues. Everyone comes to you. You and Shoko have always referred to each other as siblings for this purpose—she’s in charge of the physical, you’re responsible for the mental. Yet, as bad of an idea as it was, your vocation hadn’t come between you. If anything, it was your issues, rather than his own, that had put the kibosh on your relationship.

(Funnily enough, this issue of ethics arises with everyone except Gojo, who had never once made use of your professional services, in spite of the open and persistent invitation.)

You suppose that the rest of the sorcery world wouldn’t care, even if half of them didn’t think you were a hack. They tolerated much—inbreeding and eugenics, passing death sentences onto children, systemic misogyny. The thought that power imbalances would cause any of them to blink is almost laughable. And it seemed Kento’s time among the mortals hadn’t whittled away his sorcerous sensibilities.

The issue of being the only sorcerer therapist throughout all of Tokyo was that you didn’t have anyone to turn to. It’s not like you can off-load on a civilian counterpart. Yeah, so my fiancé was murdered on my wedding day, and the entire ceremony was treated to the sight of his gory remains. I’ve developed commitment issues ever since, and while I’m desperate for love, I don’t know how to open myself up to it. Also there’s this guy, and he’s really cool and powerful and a little stupid and he told me he loves me, but I said ‘Thank you’ like a fucking idiot and now he won’t talk to me—yeah. There’s your dilemma.

“Thank you for your time,” you tell Kento at the end of your session, shorthand for ‘everything we talk about afterward is off the record’ that somehow still lasted even after the two of you had very awkwardly broken up. Worst homemade candlelit dinner ever. At least he hadn’t humiliated you in public. Despite the circumstances, you both recovered well. You can’t quite call Kento a friend more than an occasional drinking buddy, but the care and concern is still there.

He gives you a quick nod and buttons his jacket, though he still remains seated. “You’re curious about Itadori, aren’t you?” asks Kento.

“Perceptive as always,” you smile. “He hasn’t been out in the field since his resurrection. It would be irresponsible to put him on a mission for adults, but the boy, Junpei… well, I suppose it’s irresponsible to involve children in these affairs to begin with.”

“He’s a good kid,” he says simply. There’s something wistful in his voice, a softness in his gaze.

“He is a lot like Yuu, isn’t he?” You prop your chin up on your hand, tossing your legal pad onto your desk to avoid crinkling your notes with the point of your elbow. Truthfully, you didn’t know Kento’s fallen friend very well. But you understand the feeling better than most. Itadori reminds you of someone else, and the band on your finger almost seems to shine brighter when the kid’s in the room. It’s almost like he knows, and he’s amused by the comparison. Not that he’d ever given you signs from beyond the grave since the time that he left you. “I guess we’re both still haunted by the ghosts of our pasts.”

It’s immediately clear that you’ve once again misspoken. Batting two for two, it seems. “Is that your professional opinion?” Nanami’s tone is sharp and the arch of his eyebrow severe. You’re not friends. You barhop together sparingly and the focus on the night has always been the alcohol. You’re not close enough to bring up his dead friend even if the commonality of losing someone deeply important to you is what brought you together in the first place.

“More of a friendly observation,” you wince. “I see that it didn’t land. I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing you need to be sorry for.”

At that, you release an incredulous laugh. “And you’re so certain about that?”

Nanami blinks. “Nothing to me,” he amends.

“Yes, we’ve long since established you don’t mind an abuse of power if you get hot sex out of it.” Whoa—you did not mean to sound that bitter. “I don’t do that anymore. Cross professional boundaries because I’m lonely, which—wow, I’m really just digging this hole deeper aren’t I? If I keep swallowing my foot and beyond, will I disappear or—”

“I know about you and Gojo,” interrupts Nanami with what you can only describe as bemusement, with a knowing incline of his head. “You’re starting to ramble like him, too.”

You slap a hand over your mouth. “You take that back!”

“Although, I shouldn’t be too surprised at your similarities,” Kento continues with a dry wryness you came to realize is the closest he’ll ever get to playful. “There must, after all, be a reason why you are nine and a half points ahead of me.”

“What?”

His lips twitch. “Never you mind.”

You pout, but all that does make him snort.

“Well, since we’re already on the topic of atrocious breaches of professional etiquette, it appears our mutual acquaintance was… upset before he left on his work trip. That wouldn’t have anything to do with your fuckbuddy arrangement?” He adjusts his spectacles, your office’s LEDs glinting off the lenses and the TAG Heuer on his wrist, impassive as your tea goes down the wrong pipe. “Please don’t mistake me—customarily, I couldn’t care less about his mood. But he’s been even more obnoxious than usual as of late.”

“And you want me to fix it.” Not a question. It’s mortifying enough that he sussed out the fact that you’re boinking—and you thought you’d been hiding it so well, too!—and it’s a whole other realm of shame that he’s asking you to unbreak Gojo Satoru’s heart. You’re not certain how much he knows; Gojo isn’t the type to gossip about his sex life beyond boasting in the vaguest of terms, much prouder of his skill as a sorcerer than anything a regular man might brag about. But on the other hand, you don’t want to chance exposing too much. If Nanami even really cares to begin with. “I already tried, he left me on read.”

“You apologized via text?”

“No, I asked him to meet so I could do it in person,” you snap. “Why’re you so invested, anyway? If he’s being annoying, just get Shoko to smack him upside the head of a couple of times.”

“Can you blame me for being intrigued? You’re probably the only human alive who could best Gojo Satoru without breaking a sweat.” Nanami crosses a leg as he speaks, sporting a pose uncomfortably similar to your own, typically used to balance your notepad on your knee.

“My love life isn’t a sports match!”

“No,” continues Kento evenly, “but Gojo is… not a friend.” He makes an expression like he’s just bitten down on a whole lemon. “But as far as colleagues go, he’s closer than most. He stopped being a symbol to me a long time ago. Can you say the same?”

You open your mouth to protest—and then you stop yourself short.

Gojo Satoru is but a man, flesh and bone that you’ve mapped countless times with your fingers and tongue. But even his name in your phone—pure jest that it is—belies the inhumanity with which you’ve been treating him. The colloqualism for your relationship is ‘friends with benefits.’ How much can you say that you’re actually friends? You’ll deny it any time someone asks, but that’s just how people talk about Gojo. They respect him, some revere him, but those in Tokyo get a closer glimpse at him than most. He’s harmless and friendly, if a little annoying—so long as you aren’t a conservative. No one really hates him in that they want him dead. He’s like an irritating younger sibling, at best. He’s got allies, and that’s as good as friends, right?

Everyone knows the tale of Gojo Satoru. The myth, the legend. But how many can say that they truly know him?

And can you dare to count yourself among them?

“If a punching bag counts as a symbol,” you admit. For the most part, it had been purely transactional between the two of you. At some point, for him, that changed. But you’d used him, under the assumption that he didn’t mind. Because everyone else did. He was someone to aspire to, someone to rely on. Just as easily, he was someone to envy, someone to resent. And you’d done just about enough of that. His good fortune was not your justification—it was his chipper attitude. Someone who suffered as you did had no right to be that happy. Worse, even, as his beloved’s butcher. But that wasn’t right. You were just jealous of his resilience.

And yet, when the supposedly omnipotent Gojo Satoru—however unwittingly—bared his soul to you, you hadn’t crushed it on purpose. You’d done it with the same lack of consideration you’d always given Satoru. Because he could take it, just like he could weather everything. And because you refused to let anyone get too close, no matter how cruel you had to be to keep your distance. 

He’s the strongest. He’s untouchable. When someone needs something done, no matter the cost, they go to him. And, ever cognizant of his responsibility, he took it upon himself so no one else had to needlessly suffer. So when you needed a sexual outlet, you went to him, never once considering that it might mean something to him, that he was a person underneath the heated glances and booty calls. Gojo’s a martyr—and it’s only by the grace of his grating personality that he’s spared the full brunt of the worship that entails. You’re just another arrow piercing Saint Satoru’s side.

“I messed up.” Your voice is hoarse, strained by the lump in your throat.

“I know,” says Nanami helpfully.

It’s the thought that counts, you suppose. “When did you become the therapist, huh?”

“Not certain. I should charge you for this.” Kento’s always had a handsome smile. You’d like to see it more often.

“I’m afraid I don’t have much by way of cash. Can I pay you in rosé instead?”

“You insult me.”

It feels good to laugh with him, a weight lifting off of your chest with each movement of your shoulders. It’s nice. Much better than pushing people away. You wave him off with a hand. “All right, it’s late. You’d better get out of here if you want to catch the last train. Skedaddle, Kento-kun.”

Nanami lingers by the door as you see him out, a coy tilt to his mouth. For a moment, you consider that this turn of conversation hadn’t been random at all. It wasn’t exactly the smoothest of segues, but he’d always been a little stiff. But now, you wonder if he’d been sent as a messenger—either from Gojo or from the big guy upstairs. Or maybe one of the big guy’s citizens, whom you hope you haven’t disappointed too badly. 

But before you get to ask, he huffs out a quiet little chuckle. “You had better make up with Gojo quickly, sensei. Otherwise, I might just steal him right out from under your nose.”

You’re too stunned to properly respond to his cheerful (for Nanami anyway) ‘Goodbye’ as he shuts the door to your office behind him.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami x reader #anodt tag. #jjk fic. #this is the part of the romcom where reader runs to the airport to catch gojo and gets tackled by security for being a public disturbance

[hwknshellfire]

sunshine - eddie munson x reader

pairing: eddie x reader

summary: you are my sunshine becomes yours and eddie's song

length: 1.5k

warnings: mentions of death, sadness, grief i think, mentions of murder, mentions of drugs and satanism (vvv brief), also fluff?

a.n: MAJOR volume 2 spoilers in this post!! also i'm sorry, i hurt myself with this one. im so sorry

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…

It had become your song, somehow. In the two years of knowing him and one year of being together, you had somehow confessed to Eddie that your favourite song was actually You Are My Sunshine, from all the way back in 1940. You think you must have told him after one of your many smoke sessions, brain clouded and relaxed thanks to his pot and it came tumbling out.

When he had laughed at you, your face had scrunched up and you had whined, “Eddie, my parents used to sing this to me! I think it’s a lovely song!”

“Uh huh, sure it is, sunshine,” he had grinned back and then the nickname had stuck. Sunshine. You were each other’s sunshine and you told each other often. From then on, it became a thing between the pair of you, none of your friends understanding. And even though the memory of telling him was hazy, the feeling that the pair of you felt when you called each other ‘sunshine’ wasn’t. That was very real.

You make me happy, when skies are grey…

He sang it to you on days you were struggling with your brain, or a stressful day at school. Anytime you were sad or on the verge of tears, Eddie would pull you onto his lap, wrap his arms around you and sing the lyrics softly, his mouth pressed into your hair. He would hold you for the whole night if you needed it, finishing the song and starting all over again while you relaxed in his arms, fiddling with his rings to distract your brain.

“You okay, sunshine?” He would ask you when you finally took a deep breath and broke out of his embrace. His eyes were always so concerned, scanning your entire body for any signs of lingering sadness.

You braved a smile and nodded. “Always, Eds.” And you were always fine - after Eddie sung to you. Maybe it was because it was a soft, almost lullaby song rather than the usual metal Eddie performed with Corroded Coffin, or maybe it was the fact that it was Eddie, your Eddie, singing your song that simply melted you. This soft side, this gentle Eddie was something reserved for only you. Sure, he cared about his boys, especially Dustin and Mike, but he was different with you. It was like, at school the world saw Eddie as what he felt he had to be, the ‘freak’, the ‘Satanist’, but at home in his trailer, with you by his side, he was simply himself. And god, would he do anything for you.

You’ll never know dear, how much I love you…

Your whole world flipped upside down the day Chrissy died in Eddie’s trailer. You had stayed at home that night and had hated yourself for it when the news broke the next morning: Chrissy Cunningham was dead and the main suspect was Eddie Munson. Your Eddie. It hadn’t been announced to the public yet but you knew what would happen when it did. The whole town would believe that Eddie killed her and the man hunt would begin. But you knew better than that. Eddie couldn’t hurt a fly let alone a whole person.

Jason and his team found you first. You weren’t friends with them by any means, and they practically branded you as a freak too for being Eddie’s girl, but they didn’t pick on you as much. You always suspected it was because your parents and Jason’s were friends and he had to lay off you a bit. But that didn’t stop him questioning you a few days after Chrissy’s death. There was a knock on your door and you’d been home alone so you answered it, thinking it would be a reporter or a cop asking you more questions about Eddie that you didn’t know the answer to.

Instead, you found Jason and his band of idiots. “Oh,” you had said, keeping the door open only a sliver. “What do you want?”

He was angry, that much you could tell. And fair enough, his girlfriend was being called a druggie and had been found dead in your boyfriend’s trailer. You’d be pissed too. You understood. But what you didn’t like it when they forced themselves into your house and ignored your protests, surrounding you like a pack of dogs.

“What the hell, Jason!” You seethed. “Get out of my house.”

“Not until you tell me where he is,” he had demanded, scarily calm. His hands shook but his voice was steady. If he found Eddie…he would kill him.

You shook your head. “I told the police already, I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since the day Chrissy—well, you know. I saw him at school and then I went home.” Jason couldn’t take no for an answer at first, and it took ten minutes of you repeating yourself and demanding he leave before he did. The way he looked at you when he left said it all: he’d be back, and you’d better tell him what he wanted to know. Well, fuck that, you thought.

So you teamed up with Dustin and the gang after they sought you out to ask if you knew where Eddie would be. Your frazzled brain took a long time to figure it out but it seemed obvious once you knew. Of course he’d be at Reefer Rick’s. It was the only place he could go without being found since Rick was in jail and you and the group went over immediately.

When you eventually found Eddie, your heart broke. He was pinning Steve up against the wall, his eyes wild and terrified. He hadn’t spotted you yet. “Eds,” you breathed and he stilled. He let go of Steve and turned to you, his eyes brimming with tears. Yours welled up to and you rushed to him, taking him in your arms. He collapsed into you, exhausted and scared and the group gave you a minute. One of your hands went to his back, the other tangling in his hair and you soothed him.

“It’s okay, sunshine,” you whispered. “I’m here. I believe you.”

That blind faith, that belief that you would never think him capable of what he was accused of, almost made Eddie’s heart break. He loved you so much. What had he done to deserve something as bright as you in his life? You were the sunshine, not him.

Please don’t take my sunshine away.

You had all fought so bravely, so hard, and it hadn’t mattered in the end. You still lost. You had no idea where the rest of your friends were, all that mattered was that Eddie, your sunshine, was lying on the ground in front of you, gasping for breath. Dustin was crying and panicking, thinking of anything you could do to fix the problem. The problem was that Eddie was dying in your arms and there was nothing you could do to fix it. It was just you and Dustin and Eddie, the three of you staying behind to distract the Demobats while the rest of the gang dealt with Vecna. You presumed they had won because the Demobats had fled but not before they had done their damage.

Eddie had stayed behind, severing the rope between your world and the Upside Down to keep you and Dustin safe. He had run valiantly into battle by himself and by the time you and Dustin had climbed your way back to the Upside Down - him injuring his leg and you your shoulder in the process - it was too late.

“Come on, Eds,” you cried as his eyes fluttered. “Stay with me.”

“Bad, huh?” he croaked, still cracking jokes.

You blinked hard and the tears rolled down your cheeks. “No you’re gonna be fine.” Dustin looked at you desperately and you tried to move him, planning on getting him back through the gate and to a hospital in your world. But he couldn’t move. He was too weak.

“I didn’t run away this time, right?” he asked you both and your heart shattered.

“No, Eds,” you sobbed. “You didn’t run.”

His brown eyes flicked to Dustin and he told him to look after the ‘little sheep’ and Dustin almost lost it then. The pair of you were crying wrecks and there was no one around. No sign of Steve, Nancy and Robin. No sign of Max, Lucas and Erica coming to help. They must have their own problems. You were utterly alone with the love of your life dying before you.

“I think it’s finally my year,” Eddie said softly and you pressed your mouth together as hard as you could, wincing at the pain. He looked at Dustin. “I love you, man.”

“I love you, too,” Dustin didn’t hesitate.

And then Eddie’s eyes turned to you for the very last time. “I love you, Y/N.”

Crying harder, you leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I love you, too, sunshine.” As he stilled in your arms, his chest no longer rising and falling, you did the only thing you could think of. You began to sing to him, rocking him gently in your arms. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…”

masterlist // requests

#eddie #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #st4 #stranger things spoilers #volume 2 #joe quinn #joseph quinn #hwknshellfire #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #eddie munson headcannons #eddie munson smut #stranger things smut

[snelbz]

'Til Death Do Us Part {Chapter Eight}

Elorcan. Rockstar Modern AU.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

‘Til Death Do Us Part Masterlist

A/N: Hope y'all didn't think we'd go straight into wedded bliss. After this long, you should know us better than that.

——————

Lorcan - 

I stand by the bar at my own wedding reception wishing I could have a fucking drink. But no, I can’t drink and I can’t smoke and I can’t even talk to my wife because she’s talking with Aelin on the opposite end of the reception hall, just like she has been since we left the room they shoved us into after the ceremony. She keeps pointing in, you guessed it, my direction and gesturing with her arms, and, if I’m being honest, it looks like she’s flailing a bit.

I watch her intently.

She is beautiful, just as gorgeous as I remembered, and when I saw her walking towards me down the aisle I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. Rowan must have known, considering Aelin must have known, and I’m pissed at him for not saying a word to me. Yeah, she’s hot, but also demanding as fuck.

Five minutes into our marriage, she tells me I’m not what she wanted. She told me I can’t drink. She told me I can’t smoke. I’m surprised she hasn’t tried to rip the tattoos off my skin. When I rolled up my sleeves earlier, she was staring at them. I can only imagine the thoughts that ran through her mind.

It hurt.

I won’t lie.

It hurt, having a girl that I haven’t been able to keep off my mind since the day I met her at Rowan and Aelin’s practically flat out tell me that I’m not what she wants.

Yet, we’re married.

For at least six months.

I debate on ordering a drink anyway. I’m already not what she wants, I may as well lean into it like that asshole I am, but I don’t. I push myself off the bar and look for someone to talk to so I don’t look like a miserable sack of shit at my own wedding. 

Before I can take more than three steps, an arm is slung around my shoulder and I’m steered toward the food table.

“You know,” Rowan starts, chuckling, “if anyone ever said you’d be getting married before me, I would have laughed in their face. But here you are, a married man.”

“Lost my virginity first, too,” I remark. “Don’t forget that, Mr. Late Bloomer.”

He shakes his head at that, laughing. “Don’t talk about having sex with someone else at your wedding.” He removes his arm and pops a tiny sandwich into his mouth before washing it down with his beer.

For a split second, I consider stealing it and chugging it, but then I realize my wife is probably watching me. I’ve felt her gaze on me all night, despite the fact that she’s clearly regretting signing up for this stupid fucking study.

I know I am.

I shrug. “That was twelve years ago and who knows where Essar even ended up.”

“It’s still shitty,” Rowan says, adamantly, making it clear this isn’t up for discussion. “Now why are you over here sulking instead of talking to your wife, or dancing with your wife, or doing literally anything else with your wife, aside from pretending she doesn’t exist?”

That actually makes me laugh, but it’s a bitter sound. “She’s the one that wants nothing to do with me. They’ve been in that corner since we came in.”

I gesture over to where our significant others are talking and he follows my gaze, right as Elide says something that makes Aelin hold her hands in a placating gesture.

With a wince, Rowan turns back to me. “She’s just a little overwhelmed. I don’t think she was expecting…someone like you.”

The words make me flinch. I don’t like that. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“Our lives are about as far from normal as they can be, man,” he says, and he’s not wrong. “If she was expecting someone who works Monday through Friday, nine-to-five, marrying the vocalist for a metal band has got to be a bit jarring.”

He’s right. I feel my anger start to deflate, but the pain already inflicted revives it. I shake my head.

“Yeah, but she signed up for it, just like I did. None of us had any idea what we were getting.” I scoff and, bagain, really consider swiping his beer. “I mean what the fuck was the point of having us fill out those questionnaires? I asked for a bleach blonde bikini model, with big tits, and I’m pretty damn sure I’m not what she ordered either.”

Rowan’s jaw locks as he faces me. “Look, I know you’re being a dick right now because your feelings are hurt—” I scoff, he doesn’t even stop, “but Elide is a damn good woman. She deserves a husband that isn’t controlled by his anger and his ego, so don’t ruin this marriage before it even starts because you don’t want to try.”

My mouth snaps shut.

“You just hit the jackpot, Lor,” Rowan goes on. “You won’t find a better woman than Elide, so at least give this marriage a shot before you decide you don’t want to do it. Now, get over there and ask your godsdamned wife to dance.” 

I hesitate, and I suddenly feel like I’m about to go ask one of the popular girls to dance with me at prom. Gods, I hated high school. “Fine,” I mutter and then walk towards the couple in the corner, Rowan just behind me, surely to make sure I actually do what I say I’m going to do. 

As I approach Elide and Aelin, they quiet down and Aelin gives Elide a nudge. I fucking hate this. So fucking awkward.

Nonetheless, I clear my throat and ask, “Would you like to dance?”

It comes out better than I expect it to, my voice remains calm and my hand is effortlessly held out in front of her. Rowan looks back and forth between the two of us. Aelin is watching me with an intensity that I hate.

Then, as apparently Elide has to take a minute to decide if she wants to or not, Rowan takes Aelin’s hand and drags her to the middle of the floor. Great. At least someone’s dancing at my wedding. 

Forgetting that my hand is still raised out to her, I nearly jump when she places her hand in mine. 

I wrap my fingers around hers, noticing again how much smaller her hands are than mine. Everything about this girl is tiny. It’s like I could tuck her in my pocket and take her everywhere I go.

Why the fuck do I love that so much?

Besides, that’s probably the last thing she’d want right now.

As we pause on the dance floor, I can feel Aelin and Rowan’s eyes on us.

Actually, it’s everyone. Everyone is staring, and I can tell she notices, too. This is nothing to me. I’m used to being in the spotlight, but something tells me she’s not quite as comfortable as I am. She’s gone as stiff as she did when we were taking our pictures after the ceremony. Can’t wait to see how awkward those end up. We’ll have to frame one on the living room wall so everyone can see how fucked our wedding day was.

My hands find her waist and I pull her into me, just a bit. She gasps and her hands land on my chest. I lean down and whisper in her ear, “You know I don’t bite, right?”

I swear, I feel her shudder at my words, but I don’t let myself focus on what exactly that means.

“Sorry,” she says, and her hands relax as they go around the back of my neck. We sway for a moment and I have to admit that I like having her close to me. Her body is nearly pressed against mine. She wouldn’t be able to get her hands around my neck without being so close. 

I try to be the civil human being Rowan has asked me to be. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

She almost looks surprised by this. “For what?”

I wasn’t sure. The smoking? The drinking? The disappointment of me being her husband? “I know this is overwhelming,” I say, instead. “It’s a lot to take in. We should be able to enjoy our day, though.”

She relaxes a little bit more but looks around nervously. “Doesn’t all the attention bother you?”

I shrug. “I’m used to it.” She tenses again and I sigh. Why do I have a feeling I’m trying to fight a losing battle? “I don’t care for it much, but it’s nothing new.”

She looks up at me then, one brow raised. “A rockstar who doesn’t like attention?”

I snort. “I play music because I love music,” I answer, simply.

She seems to like that answer because she gives me a little smile. It quickly disappears. “Can I ask you something and you answer honestly?”

I nod, unsure of where this conversation is headed.

“Was this a setup? Our marriage?” she asks, and her voice is quiet.

But I don’t understand. My brows furrow and our slow swaying back and forth slows even more. “What do you mean?”

She hesitates as her cheeks turn pink and she shakes her head. “Nevermind, I just…” She looks up at me and pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. It’s adorable. “I feel like I’m in a dream, but I still don’t know what to think of it all.”

“You sure you didn’t sneak any more of the liquor when I wasn’t watching?” I ask, an attempt to lighten the mood. “I hear Aelin offered you a Xanax. Those will have you feeling pretty dream-like if you’re not careful.”

To my surprise, she laughs. It’s quiet, but she nods, the tension from her body starting to disappear once more. 

“Hopefully it’s a good dream, anyway,” I continue, swaying to the beat of the song. “Or, at least not a nightmare.” 

“Not a nightmare,” she amends, but it doesn’t escape me that she didn’t say it was a good dream.

I’ll take my victories where I can though. “Good.” It’s quiet for a few more minutes as we continue to gently sway. I’ve never been one for dancing, but if it means Elide can’t run off and hide from me, I’ll give it a shot. Might as well take advantage of the time, too. “So…we didn’t really use any of our time earlier to get to know each other.”

“We sort of had an advantage. We technically already knew each other.”

I scoff. “Semantics. What do you want to know about me?”

Her eyes go wide and I don’t know if it’s because she wasn’t expecting me to be so direct or because she doesn’t expect me to want to do this now, in the middle of our first dance. “Like what?”

“Like…anything,” I say, awkwardly laughing. “How about this, you can ask me any question, and then I’ll ask you one. We don’t have to answer, not yet at least. Want me to go first?”

Those dark eyes are skeptical, but she nods. Her bottom lip is back between her teeth and I fixate on it for way too long. I stop staring and clear my throat. “What’s your favorite color?”

She laughs, actually laughs, and asks, “That’s what you want to know?”

I wonder if she knows that her face lights up when she laughs. “It’s where I want to start.”

“You’re ridiculous.” She laughs again, softly this time. “Green. What’s yours?”

I answer without hesitation. “Black.”

Eyes that are nearly as dark as my favorite color roll. “Of course the metal vocalist’s favorite color is black.”

She’s teasing me. I like it. My dick likes it even more if the way my pants tighten is any indication.

I like a girl with a little fire.

“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter but can’t help my smile. I think she notices because her eyes meet mine and narrow. “Alright, any question, go.”

“How old are you?” She asks, simply, I nod.

Solid question.

“Twenty-eight.” Two years from thirty. Kill me now.

“Twenty-five,” she says, responding with her own age. 

She seems to not be bothered by the three year age gap. Before she can change her mind on the game continuing, I say, “Okay, this next one’s serious.”

Her smile falters but she lifts a brow.

“Favorite movie?” I ask and she laughs again. I like it when she laughs. I make it my personal mission to make her laugh as much as possible in the next six months.

She doesn’t even have to think about it. “The Princess Bride, no contest.” 

I swear my brows shoot up so high they nearly fly off my face. “Seriously?”

“Have a problem with that?” She asks, teasingly. 

“Hell no,” I mutter. “Amazing movie, solid choice.”

“Then you have a good taste in movies,” she says, and another song comes on, a little faster, but we continue to sway. “But, is it your favorite?”

I whistle. “Close call, but I’m gonna have to go with The Goonies. Kids who swear too much going on a treasure hunt and defeating actual criminals? Brilliant.”

“That’s fair.” She chuckles. “So you’re a fan of movies made before we were born.”

“The eighties have the best,” I say.

“Agreed,” she smiles, and holy fuck we actually have something in common.

“What about music,” I ask, and at some point, we’ve started adding a turn to our sway. I don’t know if I was the one to start it or if it was her, but I take a chance and let one of my hands rest on the small of her back. She doesn’t swat it away, which I take as a good sign. “Does your love for the eighties continue with music or is it just the movies of the golden era you like?”

“Of course. Michael Jackson, Whitney Houston, Madonna. What more could you ask for?”

Oh gods, please tell me she isn’t still a fan of pop. Eighties pop, I can handle, but today’s music? Can’t do it.

And what more could you ask for? The rock gods.

“I mean, what about Van Halen?” I gauge her reaction and keep going when she shrugs. “Queen. Bon Jovi, Journey, AC/DC, Def Leppard, Aerosmith, Mötley Crüe, Guns N’ Roses—”

Her hand reaches up and covers my mouth. “I get it.” She really looks like she’s trying not to smile. Her eyes are…sparkling. Fucking shining. “Eighties rock. I need to add it to my Spotify immediately.”

Her hand falls away from my mouth and I wish it didn’t. Not because I like having my mouth covered, but because her skin is on my lips.

“You won’t regret it,” I promise, and I hope she knows I’m talking about more than the music. 

“Do you read?” She asks, and the smile has remained on her mouth. 

“Often,” I admit.

“Favorite genre?” She adds.

“That’s two questions,” I protest.

She laughs and shakes her head. “They go hand in hand!”

I chuckle as I spin her out and pull her back in, dipping her down. Our eyes remain locked and she looks happy. My earlier anger and frustration seems ridiculous. As I pull her back up she stays in my arms for a moment before I spin her back out and we resume our dance. 

“Fantasy and sci-fi mostly,” I answer, holding her just a little bit closer. “My favorite is the Hobbit. I love a good classic. Currently making my way through the Witcher series.”

She studies me for a moment. “Interesting.”

“You don’t approve?” I ask, teasingly.

Her hand tightens on my shoulder. “I didn’t say that. I like a well-read man.” I raise a brow and her cheeks turn pink. She adds hastily, “I enjoy reading, too.”

“That’s two things we have in common,” I mutter, unable to look away from her sparkling eyes. “If only you had better taste in music.”

“Excuse me for actually wanting to be able to understand the lyrics!”

And I know we aren’t talking about Van Halen anymore. I narrow my eyes at her. “You’ve listened to our music.”

“I’ve tried,” she specifies, shaking her head. “It was too…”

She trails off and I’m far too impatient for to wait for her to go on. “Loud? Aggressive? Violent?”

She’s trying to keep from smiling again and biting her lip, so now I’m thinking about biting her lip. It’s an appealing idea. I wonder how bad of an idea it would be to try and kiss her.

Probably pretty bad, considering she turned her head and I kissed her cheek after we said our vows.

I internally cringe again at the most awkward moment of my life to date. Nice.

“All of the above?” She says it as more of a question than a statement and starts laughing again. She looks away from me and I can tell she’s blushing. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to bash your music. I just… Are you even saying real words?”

I snort and keep myself from smiling, even though the corners of my lips want to desperately tip up. “Yes…and I do actually sing sometimes.”

“And I have no idea how you still have any vocal cords left to do it with,” she notes. She’s teasing me again and my body is reacting…again. “Although, I must admit that I haven’t listened to your music long enough to actually hear any singing.”

“Then you admit you haven’t given it a real chance,” I wink. She laughs. “Maybe if it’s just me and my guitar you’ll like it.”

She raised a brow. “Are you offering to serenade me?”

“You did marry my sorry ass, it’s the least I can do,” I tell her.

And she laughs again and damn it, that laugh is making me smile like a fucking idiot. Her laugh does things to me.

“Fine, but I get to pick the song,” she says.

“Fine,” I agree, then add, “as long as it’s not Madonna.” 

Her smile softens but she nods. “I suppose I can deal with that.”

We stare at each other for a moment and I have no idea how long we’ve been dancing, have no idea how many songs have passed, but before we can continue our conversation, the photographer is asking for pictures, yet again.

I suppose we’ll want to remember this day, as if I could ever forget it. It’s not everyday that you marry someone you’ve never met. 

As soon as we leave the ballroom and head out to take pictures with the sunset, it’s like a switch is flipped. Whatever progress we’d made inside is gone by the time the photographer asks us to pause because the lighting is “perfect”. I reach for her hand, but just as my fingers close around hers, she pulls away.

“Sorry,” she breathes, eyes darting up to mine before looking away.

It’s like our dance never happened, like she didn’t laugh with me, and smile at me like she might actually be happy to be married to me, too.

I don’t get it.

We take the pose suggestions the photographers suggest, Elide as stiff and anxious as she was for the first set. Our grandkids are going to love these one day.

What the fuck am I saying? We don’t even know if we’ll have kids, much less grandkids. At this rate of back and forth hot and cold, I’ll likely never even touch her, which will be a damn shame.

At one point, the photographer asks her to stand with her back to my chest. She takes her position, a solid two feet in front of me. Sighing, I step forward and wrap my arms around her waist.

She gasps, gripping my arms. “Lorcan, what are you doing?”

“I’m hugging you, what does it look like I’m doing?”

I can practically feel the heat radiating off her cheeks from how hard she’s blushing.

The photographer cries, “Don’t move an inch!”

So I don’t. I lock down my arms around her, despite her awkward laughter and squirming as she takes shot after shot. Right before she’s done, I plant a kiss on her cheek, just like I did after we said our vows. When I pull back and look down at her, she’s already gazing up at me, a small smile playing on her rosebud lips. Instead of the death grip she had my arms a moment before, her arms are wrapped around mine.

Gods, I want to kiss her.

And she’s my wife, so I do.

I lean, brushing my lips against hers before she can object. Her eyes flare for just a moment, before she softens and it goes from me kissing her to kissing each other.

One of the photographers claps as he says something about getting the best photo of the day, making Elide jump back, and honestly, for a split second I consider punching the scrawny slip of a man for interrupting our first kiss.

Elide looks away from me and gathers up her skirt. “I think I need a drink. I’m thirsty.”

The words are mumbled and her cheeks are red as she excuses herself and walks back inside. I watch her go, watch as she disappears through the doors and leaves me outside with the photographer.

I slowly look at him and his face pales as I shove my hands in my pockets and follow her path. For a moment, while we danced, while we kissed, everything felt natural.

Now, I’m not sure where I stand which is complete and utter bullshit considering she’s my wife. 

I’m officially a married man.

And, I have no clue if the woman I’m married to even likes me. 

#til death do us part #elorcan tddup #tddup #snacmc collabs #snelbz x the lady of death collab #elide x lorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #lorcan lochan #throne of glass fanfiction