#i like asks but i also hardly reply to the few i have gotten these past few years sorry (^^;)

[rynpie]

Hello ☺️🌺

Just wanted to say that the way you draw lilia is so so good, my heart races. The way you draw him so…broad shouldered?? If that’s the right terms?? Has me fanning myself. I love all the art thank you for drawing them

sorry i saw this earlier but i was so happy i wanted to draw you something nice.....unfortunately ive had artblock lately so please accept this lilia wip instead

Honestly I didn't think anyone would notice I like to draw him with broader shoulders😳💖💖💖!!thank you really!!!!

I personally dislike how squished his sprites usually look.... at first I thought it was because he was withering away but even general lilia looks a little smooshed. I have a new hc now tho, what if he just had too many hugs while growing up

#twst #finally answering my inbox #i saw your tags earlier and knew anxiety and autism be damned i will reply #seriously think he deserves to have shoulders #im glad to know someone else who understands #once again i am sorry for replying back very late #still feel bad i have another ask that has been in my inbox for maybe a year now #asdffdnkjgfdjhkgfdsjhkfgds #i like asks but i also hardly reply to the few i have gotten these past few years sorry (^^;)

[gogobootz1]

At War

Luke Castellan x Reader [fem!daughter of Apollo]

Summary: There's nothing like some friendly competition, but when planning rival parties, you and Luke are a little less than friendly.

Word count: 2k

Every year, there came a time for the retreats- a chance for children of the gods to bond and have some special fun. One big retreat seemed pointless, so camp faculty allowed two. The two retreats accidentally split the boys and girls, and naturally, they turned into an (unofficial) competition. As one of the oldest and most experienced campers- you’d been volunteering to champion a retreat for years. Traditionally, you’ve hosted a slumber party equipped with PJs, dancing, games, movies, braid trains, nail polish, and basically anything anyone could want. You also, of course, have the best food. Each year, it’s been a hit, and it’s only gotten better with time. 

The only problem is that you have tough competition. The day after the retreats, you always hear about what happened at the other one. Paintball, camping, fishing, mad romps through the wood, scary stories- barbecue. Everyone loved it. And every year, you’ve had to quietly conceal your anger and jealousy. It pains you to admit that Luke sure can throw a party (maybe even better than you can). But this year, you are more determined than ever to outdo him. 

The two of you have long been in competition, and things have only escalated. As hilarious as Mr. D found both your antics last year, Chiron was extremely unhappy about the fact the two of you had exceeded the budget by miles. He’d told you both to reign it in this year or no more retreats. When he felt that didn’t sufficiently move you, he threatened to let other people plan them. You both caved and vowed to stick to the budget this year. 

You’re always a little frantic the day of, and today is no different. To your chagrin, Luke is cool as a cucumber. It pisses you off to no end. 

“Nervous?” A smug voice voice asks from behind your back. You drop the spoon you were using to push mashed potatoes around your plate. 

You turn slowly on the bench, “Why should I be?"

“Usually, you’re pulling out your hair before the retreats,” he says skeptically, “perfectionism taking its toll.”

“Yeah? Well, my perfectionism makes my parties perfect,” you flaunt. The few sisters that can stand to be around you when you’re stressed roll their eyes. It’s clear to them this is escalating. 

“What about when Susie vomited in your bouncy house last year?” He taunts, and you glare at him. That girl should not have been jumping after four bags of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos and two Redbulls- it was hardly your fault. 

“How about when Aidan got a concussion after falling off the mechanical bull?” You snap back. 

You don’t notice Luke’s shadow until he pipes in, “Are these people okay?” 

“They signed waivers!” You say at the same time, and the new Poseidon kid takes a defensive step back. You send Luke a glare when you realize you spoke in sync. He huffs before smirking at you. 

“Good luck with your sleepover,” he mocks, “You’re gonna need it.” Before you can reply, he marches away, protégée in tow. 

“Eat shit!” You call out after him. 

“That was weak, girl,” one of your sisters says.  

“Shut up, I know,” you shake your head at her, “now come help me set up.” You drag her up by her elbow to make your sacrifices, then get to work. 

Five hours later, the main hall looks great. Your disco ball is glimmering, the mini photo booth is equipped with feather boas and pink cowboy hats, the food is all laid out, and the stage you bribed some Hephaestus kids to build looks great. 

“Perfect,” you whisper, pleased at your surroundings. 

“Fucking finally!” Your sister throws her hands up and walks away. You’ve very likely driven most of your half-siblings insane today. 

“Thanks for your help!” You call after her, and as she goes, you spot some prying eyes through the window. Percy, you think his name is, looks afraid now that you’ve caught him peering in through the window. In a few swift moves, you leave the room and block his exit from the patio. 

“Can I help you?” You ask suspiciously. 

“Just admiring your excellent disco theme,” he says, putting an ultra-sweet smile on his face. As charming as the boy is, you take your retreat very seriously and feel a deep-seated urge to protect it from potential sabotage. 

“Mhmmm,” you nod, “and you wouldn’t happen to be reporting back to anyone about what you’ve seen?” 

“Whaaaaaat?” Percy asks, awkwardly chuckling. 

Your shoulders drop, of course, Luke would stoop to employing spies. You dig into your pocket and pull out a ten-dollar bill, “I’ll give you this if you act as a double agent.” 

He eyes your money suspiciously, “Do you really think I can be bought?” 

You roll your eyes and pull out another bill, “How’s twenty?” 

“Pleasure doing business with you,” he grabs both bills from your hand and shakes it. Percy happily walks past you, shoving his new earnings into his pocket. 

You grin, “Make sure he hears all about how awesome my party is!”

“I’m on it, boss,” he calls over his shoulder. After a short walk, he’s back to the boathouse lounge where Luke has been waiting for his report. 

“Well?” The older boy asks him, jumping up from his spot on the couch. 

Percy shakes his head solemnly, “Bad news, boss.” 

“What?!” He asks, eyes wide. “Don’t tell me she went over budget. She didn't get another mariachi band, did she?” Percy shakes his head and files this new information away. With what he’s been hearing about the last few retreats, he’s almost sad to have missed them. 

“No, but it does look super cool,” he nods, and it really wasn’t a lie- he saw a chocolate fountain on that snack table. 

“Damn,” Luke’s face twitches in annoyance. 

“But your party will be great too, I’m sure,” he smiles, nodding reassuringly. 

“Of course, it will,” he says defensively, “make sure you check back in over there from time to time. I want to know how it’s progressing.” 

“Sure,” Percy nods, but his concern at the competitiveness underlying this event grows. He wonders just how bad this will get tonight. But check back in he does, and he won’t deny he enjoys himself at the sleepover. Every time he visits, you give him a new sparkly mocktail, and the Aphrodite girls give him a new feather boa. At one point, he’s wearing heart-shaped sunglasses and eating some cake. He was very impressed when M&Ms fell out of the middle as you cut it. Apparently, it’s also one of your newest sisters’ birthdays- he’s heard whisperings of some big special present for her yet to come. 

Each time Percy returns to the other retreat, he can see Luke get a little more tense. The fact that he’s exaggerating doesn’t help either. When he tells the older boy that you have an ice sculpture spitting Dr. Pepper, he thinks he sees steam pour from Luke’s ears. It’s not like people aren’t enjoying his party, but Percy can that Luke wants to one-up you and feels like he’s falling short. 

“And I’ve heard she has a special surprise in store for Sophie since it’s her birthday. Apparently, she’s the newest addition to their cabin, so she wants to do something special,” Percy nods at him, eating a taco he had brought back from your party. Luke cuts him off by grabbing the taco from his hand just as he’s about to take another bite. “Hey!” He protests when Luke puts it right in the trash. 

“When is this surprise?” He asks the twelve-year-old. 

“The Aphrodite girls told me I should be back in like twenty minutes so I wouldn’t miss it,” Percy tells him. 

“And when was that?” 

“Like twenty minutes ago,” he shrugs, and Luke just stares at him. “Ohhhhh,” he says when he realizes how long it’s been. 

“Come on,” Luke shakes his head and starts out the door, Percy in tow. They can hear the surprise before they see it, an ABBA song blasting out of the building. Only, they don’t realize who's performing it until they walk in. Along with two of your musically-inclined Apollo sisters, you’re dressed in bell bottoms and sleeves. And you look like you’re having the time of your life- until you spot them, that is. 

“Look, look, look, look,” you pull the microphone away to mutter to Tanya. Her shock is visible, but you both keep performing anyway. The crowd goes wild at the end, and Sophie runs up on stage to give you a big hug. You let Tanya take over host duties and make your way through the crowd to the party crasher. 

“That was,” Luke starts, but you are not keen to hear whatever he has to say about your outfit, or your performance, or your party. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” 

His expression instantly sours, “I wanted some Dr. Pepper from your ice sculpture, where is it?” 

“What are you talking about?” You’re highly confused until Percy gives you the cut-it-out motion from behind Luke’s back. “We put it back in the freezer,” you say, and Percy gives you the thumbs up. No matter what you think of him, Luke’s not an idiot. He turns around in time to spot Percy’s gestures. 

“Wait a second, are you two colluding?” He looks between the two of you in shock. 

“You were colluding with him first,” you shrug, crossing your arms. “You really earned that twenty dollars, by the way,” you compliment the kid, and he gives you a pleased nod. 

“Dude,” Luke turns toward Percy, betrayed. 

“She outbid you,” he shrugs. “Hey, what if you guys just went to each other’s parties?” 

You both eye the boy suspiciously, “Why would we do that?” You ask him, and Luke nods in agreement.

“Well, you’re both so desperate to know about the other’s party, so why don’t you just experience it for yourselves?” Percy asks, and when he feels you aren’t sufficiently moved by it, he tries again. “If you attend both parties, you can decide who wins.” 

“Good enough for me,” Luke wanders off into your party.

“Yeah, okay,” you head for the door. 

“Hopeless,” Percy mumbles, shaking his head. 

An hour later, you and Luke meet in the middle of your respective parties. You stare at each other for a minute before you admit in sync, “I had fun.” 

“We have to stop doing that,” you shake your head. 

“Agreed.” 

You’re both silent again for a minute. “The slip and slide was a good idea,” you say reluctantly, soap still in your hair, “low budget but lots of fun. Tubing was good too. And the campfire.” You had changed out of the disco attire and into shorts and a T-shirt over your swimsuit. 

“Did you try-“

“Chris can really grill,” you nod. After some hesitance, you finally choke out a confession, “I am very displeased to call you the winner.”

“No way,” he shakes his head. 

“What?”

“You totally won,” he shrugs, “the disco was killer.” You only now realize he changed into pajamas. 

“You actually embraced the sleepover?” 

He flicks some grass off your shoulder, “You gave my party a fair shot.” That’s true, and you nod, looking away for a second. “The chocolate fountain was a nice touch.”

“Thank you.”

“And I was trying to tell you earlier, but your performance was really cool,” he admits. 

“Yeah?” A genuine grin grows on your face at this. Most everyone in the Apollo cabin loves music, but some of your half-siblings are more keen to perform than you. Hearing this, and from him especially, means a lot. 

“Yeah,” he nods, smiling now too. “You’re the winner here.” 

“Let’s call it a draw?” You offer, and he nods. 

“What if we just worked together and planned one party next year?” He asked, and you pretend to consider it for a moment. 

“That could be cool,” you nod, “imagine what we could do with the combined budget.” 

He grins and scrunches his nose, “How about we enjoy this year’s party until then?”

“We could do that,” you nod, “where to?”

He swiftly wraps an arm over your shoulder and starts guiding you back to your party, “Let’s boogie.” You laugh, and he thinks it’s a sound he could get used to. 

-----------------------------------------

I've been awake for too long so idk if this is coherent but I had fun <3

#luke castellan x reader #pjo fanfic #luke x reader #pjo series #luke castellan #pjo x reader #pjo tv show #charlie bushnell #luke castellan x you

[nereidprinc3ss]

behave

in which fem!reader REALLY wants spencer's attention while he's working

18+ (no smut but sex is talked about) warnings: mentions of sex, spencer grabs readers wrist to stop her from doing something but its not violent, reader is referred to as a girl, no use of y/n, um i think that's it WC: 870 a/n: i have damn near 40 pages of spencer WIP so im biting the bullet and posting some of it. also.. if you want a plot... babe this is not the place for you im sorry... ive never even heard of a plot actually. i dont know about rising and falling action... i dont believe in that. it sounds fake

It feels like Spencer has been at his desk for hours. 

And for hours you've been lounging on the couch, reading your book in silence so as to let him work. But you're becoming... antsy. Impatient. Every time you drop your book and stare at him, willing your white-hot gaze to draw his attention; nothing. He just keeps shuffling papers, signing, writing, reading reading reading. 

At ten, you give up.  

You make a show of slamming your book shut, sighing, slowly sitting up, stretching, standing, stretching again--when you turn your head, expecting your little performance to have at least earned a look from him; still, nothing. 

"Spence?" you ask, innocuously, as you round the couch and draw toward him carefully, slowly, on light feet. A display of faux innocence. It’s not that you intend to bother him, per se--you're just so bored. 

He hums in response, eyes still glued to his work as he searches for something among the mess of paper. 

You come to a stop in front of the mahogany desk, tracing the edge of it idly with wandering fingertips. 

"What are you looking at?" you ask, in reference to a photo he seems to now be studying intently.  

"Nothing you need to see," is his muttered response, quickly flipping the photo face down on the desk and picking up a form walled in migraine-inducing tiny black text. You watch the way he scans the paper, brow knitted, and eyes squinted, clearly not paying you very much attention. 

You move languidly around the desk, letting the wood drag against your hip the whole way, before reaching for the overturned photo--just to see what he'll do. 

Spencer catches your wrist, his grip gentle and warm but not without portent. "What did I just say, grabby?" 

Sadly, they're the most words you've gotten out of him since this afternoon. 

You sigh dramatically and drape yourself across his lap, looping your arms around his neck. To your initial satisfaction he shifts slightly to accommodate you--and then continues to look over your shoulder like he hardly notices the pretty girl on top of him. 

"When will you be done?" you purr, tracing his jaw with a finger.

"I'll be done when I'm done." 

God, he can be stubborn. 

"Can you be done any sooner than that?" 

"What do you think I'm going to say to that," comes his flat reply, still not sparing you a glance. You watch enviously as his eyes dart down the paper he's reading over your shoulder.  

"Then I'm staying right here until you're finished." 

"You can stay here if you can behave." 

You scoff, bunching the fabric on the back of his shirt in your fists. "What do you mean, if I can behave?" 

Finally, you hear Spencer set down his pen, and he leans back in his chair to regard you. His gaze finally on you is like an ice bath. You literally have to repress the urge to shiver under his evaluation; the slightly raised eyebrows, the line of his mouth a little harder than usual. His 'you know exactly what I'm talking about so don't play dumb' look. 

For a few tense seconds, you let your eyes dart between his, not wanting to break first. Unfortunately, you think that look of his could freeze saltwater.  

"Fine," you mutter, flushing when you look down at his shirt collar instead. If you're being reasonable, he probably is doing something important. You drag your gaze back up to his and see that his eyes have softened. 

"Thank you," he says, gentler, squeezing your leg before running his hand over it back and forth a few times. "I know I'm not being very fun today. When I'm done we can do whatever you want to do." 

The urge to say, 'whatever I want to do?' is strong, but you manage to bite your tongue as he reaches back over you to continue his work. Instead, you content yourself to lean against him, allowing his solidity and warmth to envelop you for some immeasurable stretch of time.  

Rain starts up, battering the windowpane and accented by deep rolls of thunder. The scratch of Spencer's pen on paper, the rustle of files, and the scent of patchouli and amber begins to lull you into a doze--a comfortable place between awake and asleep. It's the kind of comatose unconsciousness that bends and liquifies time, and you don’t even realize you fell asleep until you’re waking up. 

Spencer murmurs your name, brushing your hair carefully out of your face. "Did you fall asleep, angel?" His voice is soft, just above a whisper.  

"Mhm," you groan, rubbing your eyes. "How long has it been?" 

"A few hours," he sighs. "That file took a lot longer than it should have, I'm sorry." 

You're still bleary as you speak next; 

"The thing was sex." 

"What?" he laughs, rubbing your leg as you adjust yourself in his lap. 

"You said we could do whatever I wanted to do when you were done, and it was sex. But now I'm tired." 

"Let's get you to bed," he begins, "and revisit the sex idea in the morning. Does that work for you?" 

You smile against his shirt, eyes already fluttering closed again. 

"Mhm..." 

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x self insert #criminal minds #spencer reid x y/n

[thesith]

Can I request a Hunter x fem!reader where the Batch are undercover a criminal party for a mission and he asks her for a dance and they tear up the dance floor with their moves and undeniable chemistry? (Can be spicy or SFW, your choice)

If you need music to set the mood for the party, I got you:

— Dancing with a Stranger

hunter x f!reader

this is a requested one shot (1k)

warnings: 18+, sexual topics & implication of sex, alcohol usage

notes: neither hunter or reader are drunk/intoxicated - neither have finished their first drinks.

summary: hunter sees reader from across the room while he (and tech) are undercover at a pirate party for intel.

A/N: thank you so much for the request, @kombatkid ! this is my first request for tbb & i hope i did it justice. also, i’ve wanted to write a fic like this for so long - thank you for giving me reason to xd <3

requests are open!

“Hunter,” Tech started, eyeing the girl across the room, “If you do not initiate a conversation with her, I will.”

Hunter looked at his brother, wide-eyed, “What has gotten into you, Tech?” When the mentioned didn’t offer an answer, Hunter continued, “We have a mission - best we stick to it.”

“What better way to gather intel than from the source?” Tech’s eyes wandered to the girl clad in a dark red dress, hugging her form in all the right places. “It is not a bad thing to ‘let go’ once in a while. I am sure Echo would agree with me if he were here.”

Hunter’s mind wandered to his brothers stuck on the Marauder, wishing he didn’t have one of the less attention grabbing appearances in the group - face tattoo and all. The tattoo did help him fit in with the pirates surrounding him, though. At the change of the song, Hunter was brought back to reality - back to you.

“Am I allowed to say no?” Hunter rhetorically asked, already knowing what Tech’s answer would be. Before his brother could even reply, a sigh left Hunter’s lips, “If you record this, you’re on cleaning duty.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it!” Tech spoke, a mischievous glint in his eye. Once Hunter was far enough away from him, Tech started the recording for his brothers. Force, they were going to love this.

You leaned on a high table and observed the scene around you - loud music, dancing people, drinks. God, the drinks were incredible - they were the only reason you were there to begin with. Partying with people like you was definitely not your idea of fun, but people watching was. You took a sip of your drink, hardly having touched it. Your crew seemed to be having the time of their lives on the dance floor, leaving you by yourself. That was how all of these outings went - they coerce you that “it will be fun!” and “you’ll have a great time!”, but these parties have yet to live up to either expectation.

You were disturbed from your thoughts when a man with a half-skull tattooed on his face walked up to you - he looked to be having as much fun as you were. He stood beside you, holding a drink of his own and sipping from it. You’d be the first to admit he’s attractive - more attractive than anybody else in the crowded room. You turned to face him fully, placing your elbows on the table.

After a few moments of pounding music in the background, the man spoke.

“Do you wanna…” He awkwardly started, motioning with his head toward the pit of people, “with me?”

You thought for a moment. Anyone who’d asked before you declined immediately, yet this was tempting. You weren’t sure if it was the alluring presence of the man or if the liquor was hitting, but you ultimately decided to accept the invitation, taking the hand he offered.

The man led you to an open space between people before grabbing hold of your waist and giving you a look, asking if his hand placement was okay. You nodded, letting a smile grace your lips. A polite and handsome man? That’s a first at parties like these.

A familiar song came on, to which your eyes lit up - you love this song. You’d always wanted to dance to it at parties like these, but you’d never had a partner to. You felt yourself let go of whatever front you were putting up and allowed your hips to sway, the hands on your waist gripping you tighter.

You’d found yourself with your back turned to the stranger after the first verse, his hands now on your stomach. You bent over and brought your hands up your legs, leaving his hands to trail to your hips. Your ass brushed against his crotch, something almost bursting at the seams of his trousers. As you came back up, your back was flush against his chest and he breathed heavily in your ear, head slightly tilted downward.

The two of you continued the sensual dance to the song - two strangers in sync. The chemistry between you only strengthened with each song played, the last song ending with both of you out of breath and leaning against each other - your hands on the nape of his neck, tangled in his hair and his hands gripping your waist. Sweat was now dripping from your faces as you looked at the man you didn’t even know the name of - he was perfect.

For the first time, you didn’t want the night to end. Usually you were anticipating the time to leave - not this time. You were with the perfect man, who somehow single-handedly made the experience one of the best you’ve ever had.

“All of that and I didn’t even catch your name,” he whispered into your ear, the music finally having been turned off. You refused to move, as did he - you were both enjoying it too much.

“You know, everyone has to pass the dance test before earning that right,” You joked with him. You leaned back far enough to see the smile on his lips - along with the blush on his cheeks.

A laugh fell from his lips, “Surely I got a passing grade.”

“Just barely,” You offered your name with a smile, and learned his name - Hunter. “Well, Hunter. Thank you,” You combed your fingers through his hair, “I had a good time. Too bad it’s over.”

Hunter thought for a minute before boldly speaking, hoping he didn’t read the room wrong - “Who says it’s over?”

The next morning (after getting your comm channel), Hunter returned to his brothers on the Marauder. They all greeted him with knowing looks - looks that said ‘you got laid’ in not as many words.

“I am impressed by your ability to ‘connect’ with people,” Tech said, eyes trained on his datapad. “I would not be surprised if you returned with no information - thank the Force I was there too.”

“Didn’t know you could move like that, Hunter!” Wrecker laughed with a clap to Hunter’s upper-back, “Ya gotta teach me sometime!”

“Cleaning duty for the next month, Tech.” Hunter winced, knowing his brothers have all seen his less-than PG dancing with a stranger. He walked to the bunks, ready to get some much needed sleep before hearing someone’s muttering.

“Worth it.”

tags: @skellymom @burningfieldof-clover @dangraccoon

if you’d like to be tagged, fill out my taglist form through the word “agree” in my bio or at the bottom of my masterlist! <3

thank you for reading! check out my masterlist!

#star wars #the bad batch #bad batch #sw tbb #tbb #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch hunter x reader #tbb hunter x reader #the bad batch hunter #star wars fanfiction #hunter x reader #tbb hunter #xena’s fics

[ode-to-fury]

By Firelight

Pairing: Gale/Tav (pre relationship denial)

Summary: Gale can’t sleep, and he’s not… happy about Tav being up, but he’s not not happy about it. (I.e. I was trying to practice my showing not telling and I actually quite liked it)

Gale turned over for the upteenth time before huffing out a frustrated breath. Damn his godsforsaken back to the hells. No matter the position he attempted to lie in, something hurt. His bedroll was hardly a bulwark against the cold, hard, frankly unfathomably rocky ground.

He knew in reality it was the orb. It was always the orb. The artifact that Tav had given him had helped. Slightly. Not enough.

His ears were still ringing faintly, and if he lay still too long it felt as though he spun through the space behind his eyes, which reminded him far too much of nights as an apprentice after the Yawning Portal. The muscle spasms hadn’t quite started yet, but they would. He was all too aware they would. His cure was no cure anymore, and it worried him. Greatly.

To add insult to injury, he was perfectly aware he could probably conjure himself a comfortable featherbed.

He was also perfectly aware that such an act would expose him to enthusiastic and earnest ridicule from the rest of their merry little band.

He huffed once more, and decided he would give up for the night and try and read for a while. He grabbed the first book he could find in the darkness of his tent and crawled out through the flap.

It was a dark night tonight. The moon was only a small sliver amongst the stars, and occasional clouds obscured even that faint light.

The fire was crackling merrily, and Tav sat with her back to the stone in the middle of their camp, staring at the dancing flames. There was the small line of a frown between her brows, and Scratch lay with his head pillowed on her lap, her fingers absently scratching behind one upright ear.

He cleared his throat so he wouldn’t startle her, and her grey eyes flicked to him, then back at the fire.

“I was under the impression you’d already taken your watch earlier this evening,” he said.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she replied shortly. “Thought I’d let Wyll get some more rest instead of both of us being awake.”

“Very prudent of you.”

He groaned as he sat down next to her, leaning back against the rock. It was cool, which was soothing against the aching in his back.

She glanced sideways at him, then back at the flames. From here, he could only see one corner of her mouth, a faint scar trailing along her jaw. He found himself wondering how she’d gotten it. Scratch reached out his nose to sniff at Gale’s hand, then, when he had determined there was no immediate threat, returned to being pampered.

He was glad, selfishly, that she had told Wyll to go back to sleep. He… he enjoyed her company. Was glad of it tonight. It seemed to him, no matter how bleak their circumstances appeared to be, when she grinned her crooked grin, that everything would end up perfectly fine.

“What book?” She asked after a while. Gale started slightly, realizing he’d been sitting there with the book unopened for too long.

He cleared his throat.

“A treatise on the crafting of magic shields and the various attributes of each different type,” he said. “I found it in that ruined temple we explored, though I haven’t yet found the time to study it. Of course, there are quite a few thoughts in the school of abjuration on various magic shields and their uses, and then you have the regional differences, I mean- if you’ve ever read a text originating from Amn and the wizards there you’ll find they approach the entire concept differently from even the beginning of spellcasting when compared to here or even Calimshan. Though the Calishite school again has other ideas on the concept but the point I was trying to make is how region and even regional ways of thinking can influence- “

He stopped when he realised she was looking at him with a small smile on her face.

“What?” He asked.

“I don’t know,” she said, jerking her head toward the fire. “I- I suppose I always thought a shield was a shield.”

He laughed.

“Believe me," he said, grinning, “Many an apprentice thought the same thing before our first abjuration lesson at Blackstaff.”

She looked over at him, frowning, then shook her head.

“You’ve never had any instruction?” He asked.

“Would it make a difference?” She asked sharply.

He held up his hands in a placating gesture.

“A simple question. In fact, I think it’s very impressive you’ve managed so much with no education, especially given the volatile nature of your magic. There was one sorcerer in my class at Blackstaff, but he was of a draconic line, and to my understanding their magic is much less erratic than some other origins’.”

She was still frowning at him.

“Sometimes,” she said slowly, “I can’t tell whether you’re giving me a compliment or not.”

He winced.

“I assure you,” he said, somewhat apologetically, “It was intended as one.”

He tried for a sheepish smile.

“I’m afraid I’m out of practice.”

One of her eyebrows lifted.

“At compliments?”

“Partly.”

He realised they were moving into dangerous territory, and if she asked any further questions he would not have answers for her. He- he didn’t want to tell her about the orb, or Mystra. Asking for artefacts had already somewhat broken her trust in him.

It was… nice. To have a friend. Besides Tara, of course. Though Tav was much less of a nursemaid than Tara was. Between the two of them he’d never be short on scathing remarks, however. Or stubbornness. For the time being, he would pretend as though he was not a shell of his former self, merely until he had found a different way of sating his arcane hunger. Then he would cease being a burden or a liabillity to her and the others.

“I’ve had… some instruction,” she said, snapping him back tot he present. “Over the years, whenever I liked a spell someone cast, or needed to learn something for survival. Other things just happened naturally, like throwing up a shield the first time an arrow came firing at me.”

He watched as firelight flickered across her face. Her nose was turned upward, and he found himself tracing the slope of it with his eyes.

“And summoning a cow to drop from the sky?”

She tried and failed to hide a grin as she shot him a look. A deep dimple appeared in her cheek. He’d never met anyone with dimples before her. Such an endearingly human imperfection.

“That doesn’t count,” she said. “I didn’t do that on purpose.”

He shook his head.

“It took me two months to work out how to summon a tressym,” he said.

“In this world, Gale, there are people with talent,” she lay a hand on her chest, “And people without.”

She looked at him pointedly, and he burst into laughter.

Again, she watched him with that small smile, and he found himself returning it.

“If it makes you feel any better, my father was livid.”

He shrugged.

“My mother was not much better, but she forgave me eventually, I suppose. And let me keep the tressym.”

She snorted softly.

“Good for you.” Her gaze returned to the flames, and he realised he might have touched on a sensitive subject.

“You still owe me the rest of that story, you know,” he nudged her arm with his elbow, regretted it immediately when she tensed.

“You still owe me that drink to go with it,” she said. He did not miss that she moved away from him slightly.

“I could, ah, read to you,” he found himself saying, if only diffuse the tension he had just created. “If you wish. Though the book may be out of date by several decades, if not centuries, based on the penmanship alone.”

She grimaced, looking over at the book he held as though she was looking at a particularly unpleasant bug.

“A treatise? On magic shields?” She asked.

“Forgive me,” he said, feigning understanding, “I could also explain some of the more foreign concepts, as your lack of education would be a hindrance.”

She rolled her eyes at him, and only the faintest shadow of a dimple showed in her cheek.

“I normally prefer different books.”

“Different?”

“More interesting?”

“More interesting than an ancient academic treatise on shields?” He asked in mock outrage.

She rolled her eyes at him.

“I like adventure stories,” she said finally. “You know, where the valiant prince rescues the maiden in distress, or vanquishes a dragon, or two young lovers have to stand up to their families.”

He grinned.

“You didn’t strike me as the type.”

“No?”

“No. You seem far too cynical to be caught up in any adventures that are not your own.”

“Well,” she said, shrugging, “Looks can be decieving.”

Her eyes twinkled with mischief as she looked at him, just for a second, and a dimple showed again as she gave him another crooked grin. So different from the cynical adventurer he had met but a week ago.

“I suppose they can be,” he said softly, and found that he was grinning back at her again.

She looked back at the fire, and Gale cleared his throat slightly, feeling suddenly as though he shouldn’t be looking at her at all.

“You can read to me,” she said. “If you’d like. Believe it or not, I like learning. About magic especially.”

She shrugged.

“If anything it will make the time go more quickly.”

So Gale did.

And later, just before dawn, when her head drooped onto his shoulder he told himself he didn’t think much of it, and that she was simply tired.

He let her sleep, however, without complaint, savouring the first friendly touch he’d felt since she’d pulled him from that rock, and realised that he had forgotten to worry about the orb since the moment he’d set eyes on her.

#he’s PINING your honour #but he’s also in denial #sorry i can’t write smut so you guys can have this #scratch is just there and gale might be a little jealous but of course he’s not thts ridiculous #gale:talking about calishite magic shields #tav:heart eyes #gale dekarios #bg3 #bg3 gale #wildweave #gale of waterdeep #gale/tav #gale fic #gale dekarios fanfiction #bg3 fanfic

[c0smic-d0ll]

cherry flavored kisses

robin buckley x fem!reader

summary: after moving to hawkins for your senior year, robin's been your savior in the small town. she's become your best friend, but recently you're feelings towards her have grown to be more than platonic. struggling with your crush, you've avoided spending time together in private. so when robin stops by your place for an impromptu visit, the tensions rise.

word count: 2k

author's note: hi darlings ! i'm pretty new to tumblr, and this is my first time posting my writing online, so i hope people enjoy ! also i did online school all through high school, i don't really know how public high school works so please excuse anything that seems unrealistic or if there's any inaccuracies. criticism and advice are welcome, just don't be rude !

You and Robin met at the beginning of the school year. Having just moved, it was your first day of school at Hawkins High. You’d been dreading it, not particularly happy about being the new kid during your senior year. 

Hawkins had a certain charm that you could appreciate, but sometimes the small-ness of the town made you feel cramped and claustrophobic– like an intruder trying to squeeze into an already-full elevator. And the idea of starting at Hawkins High only made the feelings worse. 

Thankfully, you were at least able to get through the majority of your first day without a hitch, going unnoticed for the most part. 

That was, until your last class before lunch. 

You’d gotten there early, only a few students in the class at that point. Choosing a seat at random, you sat down and got ready; not long before a certain brunette walked in. 

At the time, you hadn’t noticed, but when Robin saw you she became motionless. She was starstruck the moment she laid eyes on you. It took her moment for her to regain composure, but once she did she plopped herself into the seat right next to you. 

“Hi, I’m Robin,” she said, sticking out her hand to shake. You took it, and gave your name with a smile. “I haven’t seen you around here before. Are you new here?”

“Yeah, my family just moved here this past summer,” you replied. 

Robin opened her mouth to say something else, but right as she did the teacher spoke up, announcing the beginning of class. 

The remainder of the period, Robin took any chance she had to whisper some quick words to you, ramble whenever she was able, and sneak in a few jokes and one-liners, to which you quietly laughed at all of them. 

Scared of getting in trouble, you didn’t respond much to Robin, but you sported a small smile that let her know you were enjoying the interaction. Plus she could very well talk enough for the both of you.

Robin didn’t even care when the teacher gave her detention for not paying attention in class. Just being able to talk to you and make you laugh was well worth the punishment she’d get after school. And when you agreed to sit with her during lunch after class, she felt like she was on top of the world. 

While the two of you ate, you talked nonstop. She asked you loads of questions about yourself, your hometown, your family. You bonded over your shared interests, and favorite movies. She gave you the ins and outs of the school and Hawkins in general. Talking to her and being with her just felt so easy and natural. Actually, you had both been so caught up in each other that you ended up having to rush to your next classes to not be late. 

That was the start of your amazing friendship with Robin Buckley. 

But now, months later, your feelings towards Robin had grown to be a lot more than “friendly”.

It’d gotten to a point where you could hardly stand being alone with her. The idea itself caused butterflies to erupt in your stomach. If you’d been given the chance to be alone with Robin, you truly felt you wouldn’t have been able to stop yourself from confessing your feelings, or even just straight up kissing her. 

Because of this, any time Robin mentioned hanging out at your house or hers, you’ve done your best to decline as nicely and unsuspiciously as possible– always offering other, public places. She’s noticed this new behavior from you, but it honestly didn’t really phase her much. She just figured that since the weather was warming up, you wanted to spend more time out and about. 

It was all totally fine, until one day after a shift at Family Video, Robin decided to spontaneously bike over to your house. The girl had been thinking about you the entire day, but she honestly hadn’t even really made up her mind to go see you until she had already been pedaling on her bike for 5 minutes. She didn’t think it’d be that big of a deal, showing up unannounced, having done it numerous times before. 

The quiet of the empty house was disturbed by the ring of the doorbell, causing you to jump and your heart race. You hadn’t been expecting anyone, but when the initial anxiety calmed down you reasoned it must be a door to door salesman or something of the like. 

Needless to say, when you opened the door to find your best friend standing right in front of you, you just about shit yourself.

Immediately your heartbeat picked up the pace once again, your hands started sweating, and your chest tightened with nerves. With eyes wide, you let out a shaky breath and shot her a smile. “Robin! What are you doing here?”

“I just got off work, wanted to hang out,” she replies, pushing past you to get into the house. To others’ this might have come off as rude, but you and Robin had grown so close that under normal circumstances you practically lived at each others’ houses. 

“Oh,” you squeak out. 

“Is anyone else home?” she asks, already heading to your bedroom. 

“No. Nope. No one’s here. Just got the house to myself today.” As you follow her, you try your best to keep your voice steady and not let any of your nervousness peak through. 

“Oh nice,” Robin says while throwing herself on your bed. “We could throw a rager if we, you know, actually had any other friends.”

You quietly laugh along with her, and your anxiety eases. Just a little. Robin’s always been able to make you feel better, even when she isn’t aware of it. 

Still, you don’t want to push it, and decide to sit at your desk instead of joining her on your bed. Honestly, you don’t trust yourself to be so close to the girl. Just her being in your room, and on your bed, causes a feeling of deep, intense longing for her to settle in your heart. 

Picking up the book you were reading before her arrival, you focus back on the pages, listening to Robin talk about her day, and ramble about whatever else came to mind. 

While talking, Robin keeps her eyes on you. She can sense the change in your demeanor. Normally you’re more… attentive. Even if you're busy doing something, you’d at least spare her a glance every now and then, and throw in a remark here and there to let her know you’re listening. 

Now, you haven’t looked at her once since you’ve sat down. Just looking at your back, she can see that your posture is stiff and tense. Plus, whenever she makes a joke or recounts something funny Steve did at work, you only let out small, breathy laughs. Like the kind when someone says something very obviously not funny, or when you’re in an uncomfortable situation. 

As time goes on, she becomes more and more worried, the anxiety building up in her. She’s very well aware that she isn’t the best at filtering herself or reading social cues. Too many times before, Robin’s unknowingly upset people. And while it hasn’t ever happened with you, what if this is just the first time it’s happening? 

The thought of upsetting you, making you feel bad or angry, makes guilt well up in her chest, until it eventually spills out her mouth as word vomit.

“Are you ok?," Robin asks, "Did I do something wrong? I mean, I am so, so, so, incredibly sorry if I said something bad. Or did anything to upset you. You know I’m not the best at self awareness, and I promise I didn’t mean to hurt you or anything like that.”

As she continues to ramble on, apologizing for anything wrong she did, and reassuring you how much she cares about you, and how bad she feels, you can’t help the tears that well in your eyes. You hate yourself for making Robin feel guilty for nothing; just because you couldn’t be mature enough to deal with your crush on her. 

This sweet girl, who has never been anything less than kind to you, is apologizing and worrying over something that she didn’t do. And you feel so bad, but you also can’t help but feel so grateful. So grateful for having this amazingly loving person in your life. 

You realize that you have to tell her how you feel. It’s been torture keeping it a secret this long, and you’ve clearly become physically unable to hide any longer. You try to push down the fear of losing her, of her rejecting you, of the insane idea that she’d out you to everyone (because of course your sweet Robin would never do that, but you just can’t help your anxiety’s irrational thoughts).

All these feelings and this realization hits you at once, and it’s so overwhelming you have to cry.

As soon as Robin sees your tears, she stops, looking at you with fearful eyes, like a deer in headlights. Her stomach drops, thinking at first that she caused this reaction, but looking into your eyes, she quickly understands that you’re not upset with her. 

“What- what’s wrong? What happened?” she asks hurriedly and rushes over to you. She tries to put a hand on your arm, but you move away from her touch. 

Taking a deep inhale, you force yourself to look at her. Though it’s actually a bit hard to see her with the tears blurring your vision. A smile makes its way to your face, and you chuckle, but it sounds almost bittersweet. 

“I- I have something to tell you… Robin. A- and I… I don’t know what will happen to us, or how you’ll react, or what will happen when I tell you but-”

“Ok, y/n, you’re kinda scaring me now,” she interrupts with a nervous chuckle. “But you know, no matter what, you’re always going to be my best friend. Even if you, like, I don’t know, murdered someone in cold blood. I’d help you bury the body, even.”

You laugh, and work to dry your eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Looking down, you take one of her hands in both of yours and start fidgeting with her fingers– a nervous habit you had developed. “You’re my best friend, Robin. And I care about you so much. But… the thing is… I don’t just want to be friends.” You wait a beat. 

“I want to be more,” you whisper. Somehow finding the courage, you look up at her to find her awestruck expression. “I’m in love with you, Robin.” 

Blood rushes in your ears, and all you can hear is your heart hammering in your chest. 

Everything seems to slow down, and the world fades away as Robin rushes in to kiss you.

Though at first shocked, you almost immediately melt into her as your lips move against her soft ones. She moves her free hand up to hold your face, and uses your joined hands to pull you in closer.

She consumes all your senses. 

The smell of her shampoo fills your nose, and the taste of her overwhelms you. She tastes like cherry, and you’re certain that if you looked, you’d find her tongue stained lollipop red. 

The two of you seem to fit so perfectly well together; your lips and bodies molding into each other, almost becoming one. 

You separate only when you absolutely have to. You’d kiss her forever if you could, but alas the both of you do, in fact, require oxygen to stay alive. 

You rest your forehead on Robin’s, the both of you panting, and staring at each other. 

Giggles erupt from the both of you, an inescapable byproduct from the intimacy and love you both are feeling in the moment. You hide your blushing face in Robin’s neck, and the girl can feel you smiling against her skin, your breath fanning her with each sound you make. 

Goosebumps rise on her arms, and she sighs dreamily, smooshing her face into your hair.

“I love you too,” she says in a low voice, “in case that wasn’t clear already.”

© c0smic-d0ll 2023

#robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x you #robing buckley x fem!reader #robin buckley #stranger things #robin buckley x y/n #robin buckley x female reader #stranger things x reader #dolly’s writing

[jadedrrose]

i see your requests for 700 followers is still open!! congratulations, i love the way you write law he’s such a soft boy deep down!! i was wondering if i could request something like you and law are off on your own to go get supplies and you end up running into trouble, after you both escape you tell him “i feel safe with you, i always have” (im so sorry if this doesn’t make sense lol)

Safe With You

I feel like I didn’t do as well with this one… I think its bc I’m just bad at writing action scenes. Still, I hope you enjoy it!! <3 also thank you sm for the compliments, it means a lot 🥺

Warnings: g/n reader, violence/fighting, mention of choking

Part of the crew’s bi-weekly routine was stopping in a port for supplies; it’s a day you honestly look forward to. It gives you the chance to shop around, enjoy nature and the general outdoors after being underwater in a submarine for so long.

Normally, the crew will stick together as much as possible. You’d go in typically groups of seven, all staying within one area while each group collected the supplies they’d been tasked with getting. But today, you craved something else.

As you all got off the Polar Tang and headed onto the dock, an idea sprang to your mind. You left the group you’d initially been in to catch up with Law. You jogged past everyone and reached his side within seconds, walking alongside him while looking up at him.

“Law,” you called his name in a sweet tone, “can we go off on our own this time? Kinda like a date?”

You heard a few gasps and chuckles behind you, the crew always being so strange about your relationship with the captain. You chalked it up to them having no idea for a long time, as you and Law were usually pretty private about things. But, they never failed to tease the both of you endlessly.

“If you consider getting supplies a date, then yeah,” Law answered, not taking his eyes off the road ahead. “We don’t have time for any… normal date… things.”

There was some snickering behind you after Law’s reply, but you paid it no mind. “Fine with me!” You cheered, taking Law’s hand into your own. An action that seemed to have him flustered.

—

After putting Bepo in unofficial charge, you and Law strayed away from the crew to get whatever it was that Law wanted. He led you down an alley with many vendors and shops, and you curiously looked around at everything.

“So what are we getting?” You asked, cozying up to his side as a way to stay close, or rather, stay safe.

“Coins,” Law cooly replied, moving his hand to your lower back.

“Coins?! Law, those aren’t supplies! That’s just for your nerdy shit!”

“I-it isn’t nerdy shit,” he huffed, a slight pout forming on his lips. “It’s just a normal collection…”

You giggled, leaning your head on his shoulder. “I’m only joking. I find your nerdy side quite endearing, actually.”

“Do you now?”

“Mhmm! It’s cute,” you added, another giggle slipping past your lips.

“Shush,” he said, and you assumed Law was rolling his eyes right now. Only, he wasn’t joking.

“Law, why can’t I call you cute? You embarrassed or somethin-“

“Y/n, shush,” he snapped, his voice lower and more serious now. His gray eyes finally met yours, and he looked concerned, as well as on edge.

“What’s wrong?” You whispered, your eyes dodging around as you looked for any hint of trouble.

“It’s gotten way too quiet down this way… hardly anyone’s around,” he noted, repositioning kikoku so that his right hand was on the handle, left holding the sheath slightly open so he’d be ready to attack.

The street seemed void of normal people, only a few oddly placed men standing around. It was then that it dawned on you, these were marines in disguise.

A group of about a dozen men then jumped out at you, weapons drawn and charged. Law quickly created a room, drawing the blade of kikoku from its sheath as he started slicing a couple of the men’s bodies. Cursing yourself for not bringing your weapon, you opted for taking a fighting stance, fists raised in front of you as you prepared yourself to take on the men running your way.

You swung your right leg out, successfully kicking one in his stomach. The man groaned in pain, falling to his knees. The second man attempted to grab you, but you hastily dodged his attack and grabbed his arm, twisting it around you as you threw him over yourself, his body slamming into the dirt beneath you.

But the third marine was faster, and grabbed both of your arms, pulling them behind your back and putting you in a lock.

“Law!” You screeched, kicking your legs and twisting your body to try and escape the man’s hold. “Get off of me, you asshole!”

Your boyfriend’s head whipped around to face you, and he watched in horror as the man suddenly gripped at your throat with one hand, choking you to freeze any movement on your end. Your eyes were wide with fear, face quickly becoming red from the lack of air. Law acted quickly though, and the marine’s arms were then displaced from the rest of his body. With you now free, Law quickly put his katana away and scooped you up, carrying you in his arms as he began to flee.

“Why are we running?! We can take them,” you protested, wrapping your arms around Law’s neck as a means to not fall.

“This whole port’s filled with them. They must’ve spotted us before we arrived and set up a trap,” Law informed you, “I just hope the crew’s figured that out.”

Apparently the crew had figured that out, as when you and Law reached the dock, seeing them all on the deck of the submarine, kicking off any marines who attempted to get on. Seeing the road ahead blocked, Law shouted room again, creating another one before quickly following up with a “shambles”, swapping yourselves with a marine who’d already climbed up.

You all quickly got inside and headed underwater, escaping the clutch of the marine trap set up. Instead of assisting the crew, though, Law brought you straight to the operation room, before setting you on a table.

Sitting up, you moved a hand up to your neck, feeling a pain from when the marine had choked you earlier. Law took notice, taking your chin between two tattooed fingers, tilting your head up so he could clearly view your neck.

“You’re bruised,” he said, angrily. “I’ll fucking kill that bastard if I ever see him again… for laying his hands on you like that.”

“I’m fine, Law,” you reasoned, shaking his fingers off your chin so you could freely move your head. Grabbing his face with one hand, you brought it close to yours and connected your lips with Law’s. “I’m safe with you, after all.”

Law relaxed into your touch, wrapping his arms around your frame as he continued the kiss.

He pulled away after a moment, gently placing a hand onto your neck again. “Still… I’m gonna put ice on it to help. I can’t just look at you with bruises like that and do nothing.”

You giggled in response, loving the way Law was always so caring with you. While you mostly knew it was due to him being the crew’s doctor, you also liked to think it was because you were his lover.

#trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d water law x you #trafalgar law x y/n #trafalgar law x you #trafalgar d water law x reader #law x you #law x reader #law x y/n #law x g/n reader #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law one piece #law one piece x reader #one piece x reader #trafalgar law

[moodymelanist]

Nessian surprise pregnancy announcement

happy April fools 🩵 also combining this with this prompt ⤵️

After nine long months, Cassian could hardly believe he was seeing his daughter in his wife’s arms. She was the most perfect thing he’d ever seen — second only to Nesta herself, of course — and he didn’t think he’d ever forget the moment he’d first gotten to hold her in his arms. She was so tiny that part of him had been scared he’d somehow hurt her, but he’d stopped worrying about that the moment her small fingers curled around his pointer finger.

Nesta looked completely exhausted in her hospital bed, but she seemed just as in awe as Cassian was. “She’s so beautiful.”

“Are you surprised?” he fired back, looking away from their daughter’s perfect face to look at his wife’s stunning one instead. “I mean, look at the material.”

“Shut up,” she replied with a good-natured roll of her eyes. “She’s all you, anyway.”

Seraphina did look a lot like him, with her dark hair and golden-brown skin, but Cassian had studied Nesta’s features enough to know them when he saw them. “Nah. She definitely has your nose.”

“Whatever you say, baby,” Nesta responded tiredly. She shut her eyes and gently shifted around to find a more comfortable position, sighing as she found the relief she was looking for.

He couldn’t decide where he wanted to look more. Between being in total awe that his wife had brought their daughter into the world and that said daughter was absolutely adorable, it was almost like sensory overload. He decided to look back and forth between them every few minutes, more than happy with the pretty picture his family made.

He never thought he could have this for himself, but damn did it feel good.

“Don’t tell Feyre and Rhys,” Cassian murmured, his fingers gently combing through their daughter’s hair, “but our kid is way cuter.”

“Fuck,” Nesta hissed quietly, not wanting to wake Sera as her own eyes snapped open. “We never told them!”

“Fuck,” Cassian repeated. Sera opened her eyes and immediately narrowed them at him from his volume, and he sheepishly passed the baby over to Nesta before it turned into a full-blown crying episode. “Come here, let me get a picture.”

Nesta had been so nervous about something happening to the baby after the experience Feyre and Rhys had had with Nyx that she’d begged Cassian not to tell anyone. It had been hard keeping such a big secret from their family, especially with how often they liked to get together, but they’d somehow managed to pull it off. The first few months hadn’t been too bad, but once Nesta had started showing, they’d had to come up with increasingly more elaborate reasons for why Nesta couldn’t come to their family get-togethers.

“Say cheese,” Cassian said, holding up his phone for their first picture as a family. Nesta gave the best smile she could muster given how tired she was, propping up Sera’s head so her little face was visible, and Cassian snapped a bunch of pictures. “These are nice.”

He picked the best looking one and sent it in their family group chat, sending all the details about Sera’s weight and height and time of birth. It didn’t take long for people to start texting back, but instead of the congratulations texts he was expecting, he got a wide array of question marks and confused emojis.

Whose baby did you steal for this?? Mor had written.

Ha ha, very funny, Lucien added.

Cute baby, though, Rhys texted, replying to Mor’s original message.

“Why does everyone think I’m joking?” Cassian asked, showing Nesta the texts.

“Probably because it’s April Fool’s, you idiot,” Nesta answered fondly. She took his phone and sent another picture, this time of a close up of her sweaty, exhausted face. “Bet you they won’t think we’re joking now.”

He laughed as he read the caption she’d written with the picture. Trust me, the thirteen hours I spent in labor aren’t a fucking joke.

Sure enough, within the hour their entire family was gathered in the hospital room with a truly ridiculous amount of balloons and baby gifts. Judging from her victorious smile, Cassian knew Nesta would be holding this over him for the rest of their lives.

tag list: @perseusannabeth | @bookstantrash | @charming-butt-insane | @oversizedbats | @melphss | @sv0430 | @podemechamardek | @autumnbabylon | @live-the-fangirl-life | @julemmaes | @that-little-red-head | @jmoonjones | @sayosdreams | @thewayshedreamed | @hiimheresworld | @brieq | @pearlfortears | @swankii-art-teacher | @nerdperson524 | @snickerdoodlechittybangbang | @imsointobooks | @nesquik-arccheron | @sweet-pea1 | @champanheandluxxury | @dustjacketmusings | @mrs-shadowsinger04 | @unlikelypersonalknight1 | @goddess-aelin | @arinbelle | @talkfantasytome | @simpingfornestaarcheron | @duskandstarlight | @letstakethedawn | @vidalinav | @c-e-d-dreamer | @dealfea | @katekatpattywack | @burningsnowleopard

#acotar #acosf #Nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #anon asks #moodymelanistwrites #nessian prompts #⭐️

[mermaidchan05]

Vesuvia Weekly: "How Did You Learn to Do That?"

“How did you learn to do that?”

“My master taught me.” 

Whenever the question was posed, that was Chimalus’ response.  It was almost instinctive at this point. Though Chimalus had graduated from “My master taught me” to “Asra taught me,” the meaning was still the same. 

After all, Asra had taught them everything.  He was the one responsible for bringing them back.  He was the one who taught them how to be a person again.  And after that, he hadn’t stopped.  He’d taught them how to read.  How to write.  He’d taught them nearly everything they knew about magic. 

So it was only natural that, when Nadia first led them to the palace stables and asked if they knew how to ride, their response was much the same. 

“Asra taught me how, once.” 

Nadia had smiled then, one of the first smiles that was meant just for Chimalus, a smile that made their heart skip a beat. 

“My, you are full of surprises, aren’t you?” she’d said. 

And in that moment, though they hadn’t fully understood why back then, Chimalus had wanted nothing more than to keep surprising her.  To see that smile more and more often. 

Which was exactly what they did, though it was hardly ever on purpose.  Since the fateful day that Nadia had come to her shop, searching for help, Chimalus and Nadia had experienced more than their fair share of surprises.  But they had gotten through everything the universe decided to throw at them.  And now, at last, things had started to calm down.  There was still much work to be done.  Still so many things that needed to be fixed.  But there was also enough time to steal away for an afternoon to have tea with friends. 

Which was exactly what they were doing when the subject of riding came up. 

“Did you ever ride, Asra?” Nadia asked.  “I seem to remember hearing something of the sort...” 

“No,” said Asra with his Magician smile.  “Well... not horses, at least.”  

Chimalus didn’t hear how Nadia replied, or if she even replied at all.  Their hand shook as they put their teacup down.  The realization crashed over them like a wave, leaving them stunned, breathless. 

Asra didn’t know how to ride.

There was no possible way he could have taught them. 

So how did they know?  How did they remember? 

In any other circumstance, they would chalk it up to simple muscle memory.  But that didn’t make sense in this case.  Not when their muscles carried so few memories in the first place.  

And if Asra hadn’t taught them to ride... who had?

Such questions were dangerous.  Chimalus and Nadia had been working towards unlocking the secrets of Chimalus’ past.  Of the life they had lost.  And while Asra had done his best to help, he admitted that there were some things that even he didn’t know.  Chimalus hadn’t shared every detail of their past with him.  There were some things, Asra explained, that had apparently been too painful or upsetting to share. 

Which meant those memories may have been lost forever.  Chimalus had, unwittingly, hidden their own history.  

How much else had they lost?  And if it was so painful, so heavy that it was a burden not even Asra could bear, did they even want to reclaim it? 

But the question pestered them.  Demanded answers.  And they had no answers to give. 

All they knew was that Nadia would remain by their side.  Whatever the past held, the two of them would face the future together.  And they had more than just Nadia.  There was Portia, of course, as stalwart a partner as anyone could ask for.  They had Asra, who had always supported them.  They had Julian, who had a knack for running into and out of trouble, which may have been exactly what they needed in this case.  They had friends.  They had family.  

Perhaps that was all they needed, whether or not they ever found the life they had left behind.  

#vesuvia weekly #where did you learn that #the arcana #the arcana game #ficlet #my stuff #my writing #apprentice chimalus #nadia satrinava #the arcana nadia #also spoilers for nadia's route and for the heart hunter stuff I guess? #tiny spoilers but hey #and welcome back to post-resurrection angst town lol

[gogobootz1]

Chance Encounters of the Elite Kind

Coriolanus Snow x Reader (what can I say? this is where we're at)

Summary: Finally, at one of countless stuffy parties, Coriolanus finds something (someone) interesting.

“Overwhelmed?” 

His head snaps to a leather chair, where you already sit, book in hand. He didn’t think anyone else would be in the library. 

Not one to be caught in a vulnerable position, he snaps back, “Annoyed, actually.” 

“Oh?” You respond in the same tone as before, not looking especially surprised or impressed. Your expression surprised him since he’s been practically drowning in newfound admiration. He's gotten a lot of the starry-eyed look ever since he’s been climbing through the social ranks. 

“Half the people here can’t hold an intelligent conversation,” he shrugs. You snicker, and he feels an odd sense of pride grow at making a beautiful stranger laugh. 

“You needed a break, then?” You ask, a small smile now painting your face. 

“I thought the books would be better company,” he replies slyly, a smirk starting to rise on the edges of his mouth. 

“Well, that’s your problem Mr. Snow,” you say, without malice. His smirk is goes as fast as it came. 

“Excuse me?” He doesn’t like the fact that you know him when he doesn’t know you, and he especially doesn’t like where this conversation is going. 

“You think you’re better than everyone,” you assert, and he’s surprised at your neutral tone. His eyes narrow in anticipation of what you’ll say next. “The problem is, you’re right.” 

He can’t help the way his eyes widen at your statement. It was entirely the opposite of the judgment he’d been expecting to spew from your painted-red lips. 

You roll your eyes at his reaction, and before he can even get a word in, you start again, “It’s not exciting to be so far ahead when they can’t hardly keep up. So, the game loses its charm.” You shrug and begin to stand, setting the book on the table beside you. 

“The game?” His eyes bear into yours.

“Yes,” you emphasize like he was foolish to ask such a question. “Life. The game of social checkers that every person here is desperately trying to win.” You shake your head, a foul expression on your face as you condemn the guests of this party. 

He’s never heard someone express such a similar outlook to his own. In the few minutes you’ve spoken, he’s become fascinated. As he watches you walk to the door, he comes to the conclusion that you also think these people are below you. 

You’re about to leave before his words stop you, “Yet you’ll go join them?” You cast a scolding look over your shoulder. 

“No, I’ll return to my rooms,” you say before exiting. “I prefer chess,” the words are for him, although your back is turned. 

He tracks your movements from the doorway of the impressive library. You navigate the hallway then turn a corner like you’ve been doing it your whole life. Probably because you have. 

He could kick himself. The hosts of this party don’t go out terribly often because they don’t have to. Arguably the oldest, wealthiest, and most well-respected of the elite Capitol families, they only throw parties on occasion to remind everyone of their superiority. And they keep their daughter under lock and key. 

Suddenly, he has a new goal to add to his list. 

----------------------------------------

To the good people of Tumblr- thank you and I'm sorry. I am not immune to skinny blonde men. It's a disease.

#coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #tbosas #hunger games fanfiction

[your-local-simp-writers]

Hi! are your request open? If so would you be willing to branch out to other anime or games to write about for x reader stories? Also do you have a masterlist? I would love to read both of your guys other work :D One story i would like to request if its ok is a "Kirishima x reader" from MHA, if not would it be ok for a small "Josuke x reader" from Jojo!

Hello! 𝒞𝓁𝑜𝓊𝒹 here, me and 𝒞𝒽𝒾𝑒𝓃𝓃𝑒 are ecstatic that you all find our work enjoyable! Naturally, we welcome requests. As for the masterlist, we do not currently have one, but we are working on one for you all, so please keep an eye out! Relax, we'd be happy to write both! If you haven't gotten to know who we are don't be shy here is our "༺☆༻ Introduction ༺☆༻"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Unspoken Support

Word Count: 745

Warnings: None

Eijiro Kirishima x Fem!Reader ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

The evening air was cool as it drifted through the slightly ajar window, carrying with it the faint sounds of life from the U.A. High campus. The dorms were alive with the chatter and laughter of students, but within the walls of room 1-H, a serene quietude prevailed, broken only by the occasional click of a component being set into place or the soft hum of a machine powering on.

My focus was absolute, my hands steady as I worked on the latest addition to my arsenal of support gadgets. The device, when completed, would be a testament to the power of my quirk, Echo Pulse, enhancing its range and clarity to new heights. It was more than just a project; it was a piece of me, an echo of my own determination and will.

I was in the middle of calibrating a new device when a knock echoed through my room. “It’s open,” I called out, not lifting my gaze from the intricate circuitry sprawled before me.

The door swung open, and Eijiro Kirishima stepped in, his presence immediately filling the room with an infectious energy. “Hey, (Y/N)! Still working on that new gadget?” he asked, his eyes scanning the myriad of components scattered across my desk. ”Are you working hard or hardly working?” he joked.

I couldn’t help but smile at his attempt to lighten the mood. “A bit of both, I suppose,” I replied, setting aside my tools.  “It’s almost done. Just a few more adjustments.”

Kirishima approached, his curiosity piqued. “What does this one do?” he inquired, pointing to the device I was just working on.

“It’s an enhancement for my quirk. It amplifies the Echo Pulse so I can detect things further away and with more detail,” I explained, my hands never ceasing their movement.

“That’s awesome! You’re always coming up with cool stuff,” he praised, his admiration genuine.

I felt a blush creep up my cheeks at his words. Kirishima had that effect on people, his unyielding positivity and encouragement were just part of who he was. “Thanks, Kirishima. That means a lot coming from you,” I said, finally looking up to meet his gaze.

“So, what brings you here, Kirishima?” 

He grinned, his sharp teeth catching the light. “I brought you something,” he said, revealing a basket filled with snacks. “I know you skip meals when you’re in the zone.”

I laughed, accepting the basket. “You’re too good to me, Kirishima. How did you even know I like these?” I was touched by his gesture, the care he had taken to gather everything I loved. 

He rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish look crossing his face. “I may have asked around,” he admitted.

We sat cross-legged on the floor, the basket between us, and began to indulge in the snacks. Between bites, our conversation flowed effortlessly, from the mundane to the profound. Kirishima spoke of his latest training with Bakugo, his words painting a vivid picture of their intense sessions.

“And then he said, ‘That’s not enough to break my unbreakable spirit!’ Can you believe that?” Kirishima recounted, his laughter echoing in the room.

A sudden burst of laughter from me cut him off, and he joined in, his own laughter deep and contagious. “Only Bakugo could come up with something like that,” I said, shaking my head in amusement. In that moment, surrounded by the fading light and the echo of our joy, I realized how much I cherished these simple exchanges, these quiet moments of connection.

As the evening wore on, we continued to talk, the basket slowly emptying. When Kirishima finally stood to leave, I handed him a box I had prepared, filled with his favorite protein bars.

“For all the times you’ve looked out for me,” I said, my heart swelling with gratitude.

He accepted the box with a wide smile, his eyes softening. “We’ve got each other’s backs, (Y/N). That’s what friends are for,” he replied, his voice steady and sure.

As he departed, I sat back against my bed, the remnants of our shared snacks a testament to the bond we had forged. In the quiet of my room, I realized that it was these moments, these echoes of friendship and support, that truly made us heroes in the making.

#mha fanfic #mha fluff #mhax female reader #x female y/n #female!mc #f!mc #f!reader #x female reader #kirishima x reader #kirishima x fem!reader #kirishima x y/n #kirishima x you #kirishima eijirou #mha x female reader #mha x y/n #mha x fem!reader #mha imagines #mha kirishima #bnha imagines #bnha fluff #bnha x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #eijiro x reader #mha x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #my hero academia x reader #kirishima eijiro imagine #eijiro imagine #kirishima imagine #bnha headcanons

[arrancxr]

23 for Starrk, please?

(Also as a side note, I just wanted to say how much I appreciate your xeno headcanons for the Arrancar’s genitals. As a nonbinary trans man, it just makes me happy to see. Thank you!)

((Thank you!! I'm glad you're enjoying them!! I've gotten similar comments a couple of times now, and it's always very jkshg to know people find that kind of joy and validation in my work. >3>))

23. “My baby, you did so well.”

The first touch along the edge of his mask has Starrk’s body snapping to attention— not quite out of fear (a foreign concept, when no one’s jaws would have ever got this close), but a sudden, acute awareness of sensation against a place that could very easily hurt. He trusts you, of course, but Hollow instincts tend to have other ideas about what’s safe to allow.

You’ve handled his mask before, but in the soft, sweet moments of intimacy where he’s already nearly purring with bliss. Not mere seconds after pulling back from a long, messy kiss that left him worked up enough to be all but grinding into your ass, hot all over, and anticipating more. 

“Too much?” you ask. The novelty of your worry never quite wears off; as strong as he is, there’s nothing you could do to cause real damage. 

“It’s fine. Keep going.”

Starrk’s hands go to your waist. His hips roll up in search of friction, and you shift a little in response. There’s something almost funny about tipping his head back to bare his throat, willingly submitting to a human’s touch, but while his mind is fogged with pleasure, Starrk hardly cares.

After a few moments of caressing the jagged teeth at the base of his throat, though, your touch wanders lower. Gentle, still, and moving slow enough to give him warning— not that it makes the touch any less intense.

Even the lightest brush of contact against the edge of his Hollow hole is almost unbearable. The flash of momentary, instinctive panic soon fades, though— overshadowed by pleasure when you grind down into his lap. “Good boy,” you purr, probing a little deeper past the void’s edge. “You’re so good, trusting me like this. I’ll stop as soon as you need me to, okay?”

Starrk’s only reply is a strangled whine. Through whatever screwed-up signals are firing right now, the near-violating touch against the inside of his Hollow hole is feeding into his arousal. His body thinks it’s pinned, helpless, and feeling so acutely vulnerable adds an unfamiliar thrill.

Even if he’s never needed to fear being held at the mercy of something stronger, a Hollow baring its throat and inviting attention to its weak spots is nothing short of suicidally stupid. All he’s doing is opening himself up to get hurt, and yet, the oh-so-careful brush of your fingertips across solidified darkness has him going limp and trusting, arching helplessly into the touch.

Time liquifies for a while, until your fingers finally recede. He’s trembling all over, achingly hard, too oversensitive to tell if he came at some point in that haze of sensation or not. He can hardly think, and yet—

“My baby, you did so well,” you tell him, nails scratching sweetly at the scruff on his chin. More sounds tempting, if it means you’ll keep saying that.

#Bleach #Starrk #Coyote Starrk #Arrancar #Reader #Fic #Lemon

[kissesforsatoru]

Hii, can I request prompt 15 and 16 with fyodor, with fem!reader. If you want you can just do one prompt. Ty and have a nice day!

𓏲 ˖. pairings. . . fyodor x fem!reader

𓏲 ˖. summary. . . “let them watch, that way they know you're mine” + “you look so pretty all fucked out and covered in my cum”

𓏲 ˖. warnings. . . general yandere themes, public-sex, begging, jealousy, posessive behavior

𓏲 ˖. notes. . . this is incredibly long awaited and a little sloppy , i’m sorry 😭😭

fyodor is the kind of man who adores showing off his lover, but is also very possessive. you aren't really sure how to feel. about that, because whenever fyodor gets jealous, you have to deal with the repercussions—and he gets jealous easily. but then again, you aren't allowed out often enough for you to really be bothered by it.

he likes to drag you along with him to decay of angels meetings, which is one of the few places you're able to relax in public with him. everyone there knows that you belong to fyodor, so you don't usually have to worry about him getting jealous there. usually, because sometimes nikolai will flirt with you and purposefully make fyodor upset.

but, today is different than the days when nikolai jokingly flirts with you, because someone new is here—someone completely unknowing to the fact that flirting with you could cost him his life.

from what you know, he's someone that was hired to cator food and drinks after nikolai complained about always being hungry during meetings.

he got flustered, fumbling over his words when he asked if you needed anything. you should've declined, maybe even flat out ignored him, because you could tell fyodor was very unhappy that you requested water. and making matters worse, the boy wouldn't stop staring at you, completely oblivious to the growing danger he's causing for you and him.

when the meeting was finally over, everyone left the room except for the boy who stood nervously by the door, still staring. you've been trying to ignore him this whole time, instead mindlessly sipping on the water, but the intensity of his stare made you squirm uncomfortably in your chair.

you nearly choked on your water when you felt fyodor grab you by your waist, roughly pulling you out of your seat and into his lap.

“i miss you, malishka.” he mumbled, nuzzling his face into your neck. “i haven't gotten to hold you all day.” his words were muffled into your skin, the warmth of his breath causing you to shiver in his hold.

you don't get the chance to reply before you feel him suck harshly on your neck, dragging out a pained gasp from you. you hold onto his shoulders tightly, trying your best to push him away to ease the pain, but he hardly budges. insted his arms wrap tighter around you, pulling you even closer against his body.

when he pulls away, he licks lightly at the mark he left behind before kissing it. you feel one of his hands come to rest high up on your thigh, pushing up the skirt he made you wear ever so slightly.

“wa–wait,” you say frantically, gripping his wrist. “what are you doing? someone might see!” and by someone you mean the boy who might still standing by the door. you try and turn to check, but fyodor grabs your chin and kisses you.

he squeezes your jaw just enough so that you open your mouth, allowing his tongue to invade. tears welled in your eyes at the overwhelming force of his lips against yours—it was needy and desperate, so much that you could feel the urgency.

fyodor only pulled back when you started tugging at his coat, indicating that you couldn't breathe. he threaded his fingers into your hair, tugging your head back lightly to get the perfect view of your dazed face.

“let them watch, that way they know you're mine” he hummed, pushing your body yo rest against the table behind you. you didn't say anything, just watched nervously as he pushed your skirt further up to reveal your bare cunt—fyodor instead that you don't wear any panties so that he can use you easily whenever he wanted.

you moan shakily when he slowly slides a finger inside your cunt that was already embarrassingly wet. your body can easily be swayed by the pleasure that fyodor brings to you body—you've never been able to deny him, and now won't be an exception.

any worry about the boy watching practically disappeared as fyodor fingered you, his fingers curling into the right spots easily distracting you from anything but him right now. your eyes flutter closed when he adds another finger and presses his thumb flat against your clit, rubbing it lightly to stimulate your body even more.

his lips latch onto your chest just under your collarbone where he sucks another hickey, follwed by many more as he trails his lips down to your tits. he licks the bud lightly, skillfully swirling his tongue over it before taking it into his mouth.

“fyodor,” you panted, unable to catch your breath. “please, fuck me already!” you whined, wiggling your hips against his crotch greedily in hopes of enticing him to fuck you—but he doesn't. Instead, he grips your hip and holds them down against his body as he continues to tease your needy cunt.

“please! fedya—need it, please!”you beg pathetically, tugging at his shirt in desperation.

“you've gotta beg harder than that, love. you know what i want to hear.” he hums, pressing his thumb against your clit and massaging it with a barely there touch.

“please! I'll do anything you want, just fuck me!” you plead. tears well up in your eyes and you can't help but whine pitifully as he continues to tease your body with his fingers, not making any move to give you what you want.

“i’m sorry! i’m only your slut and nobody else’s! please let me cum on your cock!” you cry out, practically choking on your words as you sob.

“that’s it, good girl.” fyodor says as he pulls his fingers out of you and instead slipping them into his mouth, licking them clean of your slick. you watch embarrassed as he hums in delight at your taste, savoring every last bit of flavor carefully—even after all that’s left on his fingers is his saliva.

after he’s done, he pulls you close for a sloppy kiss while he takes off his pants and aligns himself up to your fluttering pussy. you sigh contentedly into the kiss as he rubs the head of his cock against your soaking cunny, every now and then teasingly slipping in and then right back out.

you don’t expect it when he shoves his cock all the way in roughly, the force of his thrust causing you to choke on a cry. he only gives you a few seconds to adjust before he pulls out and thrusts back in just as rough as the last time. he thrust roughly in and out of you, over and over again until your haphazard moans are loud enough for everyone to hear how good he pleasures you.

you grow dizzy quickly, and you can’t help but weakly fall into his chest as he continues pummeling you relentlessly. he grips your hips tightly, directing them so that he’s hitting your sweetest spots with every thrust. you’re sure you’ll be sore and unable to walk tomorrow, but right now the pleasure is worth every bit of pain you have later.

“ah, ‘m so close” your words slurred, sounding more like a muffled moan than anything, but fyodor still understood. you were almost at your limit—the familiar coil in the pit of your stomach growing tighter and tighter, ready to come undone at any moment a telling enough sign of that. you wanted to hang on a bit longer, but that was practically impossible when you were feeling this good.

with another deep thrust, you gasped in pleasure as you began to tremble in his hold. but he didn’t stop or falter. he kept thrusting, panting hotly into your neck as he neared his own release.

“fuck,” he cursed, pulling out to pump his cock in his hand. he wrapped his free hand around your waist and picked you up to lay you down on the table. he stood between your legs and leaned over you as he came, the warm liquid spraying all over your plush stomach.

“you look so pretty all fucked out and covered in my cum” he whispered, smirking down at your limp form before leaning down to kiss you.

© 2022 by hheizoukiss ━ all rights reserved. plagiarism is strictly prohibited. comments, likes, and reblog are highly appreciated.

#yandere #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere bsd #yandere thoughts #yandere bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd anime #yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere bsd x reader #yandere fyodor x reader #yandere fyodor x you #yandere fyodor x y/n #yandere fyodor #bsd fyodor #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #fyodor x y/n #fyodor x reader #fyodor x you #dead dove do not eat

[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

[azullumi]

albedo — cold hands ☆彡

summary — winter is coming and your hands are cold.

pairing — albedo/gender-neutral reader

tags — fluff; oneshot

word count — 718

a/n — my hands were hella cold and an idea popped up inside my head. i had a post schedule before this one but i couldn't resist the urge to post it immediately.

evidence of the winter season approaching is clear but nothing is different in the ever so cold mountain of dragonspine where you are always at to accompany a certain alchemist who is also your boyfriend. he was busy doing his own thing at the alchemy table, writing something on his notebook after observing the reaction of two fluids that he has mixed together.

although you have already gotten used to the cold—supposedly— nowadays, you could hardly ever last more than a few hours in the freezing temperatures even with the amount of torches and campfires surrounding the tent. you don’t know if it’s the fact that winter is waltzing its way to the continent or what, nonetheless, it’s still cold and you regret not wearing an extra article of clothing on top of you.

you glanced at albedo who’s been standing for nearly an hour now, occupied with what he is doing. he might have forgotten that you're here with him because the last time you two have interacted was an hour ago. the only things you did while waiting for him is just sit and watch or admire his artworks. you don't complain though as coming with him and accompanying him here was your own decision. you just wish he would look back and—

"(name)?" and as if the gods had answered your prayers, he called out to you, looking in your direction with a hint of concern on his face. his voice, smooth and gentle, grabbed your attention and you answered, "yes?"

he didn't reply but instead, walked towards you while taking off his gloves. he then kneeled down in front of you, resting his hand against your cheek. his skin felt warm against yours and you can't help but lean against his comforting touch.

"you're cold," he said and placed his other hand against your unoccupied cheek, completely engulfing your face with warmth. it was soothing and comforting, it felt nice. "it is cold, 'bedo. we're in dragonspine, after all."

"you should have told me." you could only hum as a response and closed your eyes. although your face felt warm, the warmth wasn't enough. Your hands were freezing and it seems like the man in front of you noticed as he decided to release your cheek to hold your hands.

he filled in the gaps between your fingers with his, locking his hand with yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze as he looked you in the eyes, tender teal orbs looking at you with admiration. on his face was an expression that shows adoration, a smile so faint and small that it was hard to notice it at first.

"i heard this is a way to share body warmth and keep each other warm whenever it's cold since heat is being transferred and retained. are you feeling alright now?" he asks in a soft tone, voice so gentle and kind that it warms your heart. "i'm feeling better now, thank you."

albedo regrets not bringing his coat with him but at the same time, he is also thankful because he got to share this moment with you. although he took note inside his head to bring a blanket next time he climbs up the mountain.

"i miss you." you say, breaking the silence.

"but i've been here since earlier," he answered, tone confused as he tilts his head to the side. you could only chuckle and smile at him before speaking, squeezing his hand to which he squeezed back in return.

"you weren't talking to me and you were busy with your experiment."

"i apologize, i'll pay more attention to you now and always, is that alright?"

"it's alright, i forgive you and i'm sorry if i was being a bother."

"my love, you're not bothersome." he kisses your forehead, a smile immediately making its way to your face at that small action of his. you just love the way albedo doesn't hesitate in reassuring you and giving you affection.

silence reigned in the air once again but this still moment was pure solace within. just holding each other's hand and looking at each other's eyes with pure awe. not until he spoke again, his voice piercing the silence.

"can i hug you? i figured hugging is a better way to share body warmth."

"you don't have to ask that."

— navigation | masterlist

#genshin impact fanfics #genshin impact x reader #albedo #albedo kreideprinz #albedo x reader #albedo fluff #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin #genshin fluff #genshin fanfic #genshin x you #genshin imagines #azul.writes

[minniethemoocherda]

You got the Moves, You Know the Streets

Summery:  Bumblebee enlists the help of two of his old comrades to help Nightshade and Jawbreaker with their organic inspired alt-modes.

Ao3

Even after everything, Nightshade couldn't help but miss Tarantulas. 

Bumblebee was a great mentor and part of their family, but as try as they might, Nightshade just couldn't connect to the big yellow boy the same way that they had to the former Deception scientist. 

And although they tried to hide it, they knew Bumblebee could tell. 

So when Jawbreaker finally figured out his dinosaur alt-mode, Bumblebee said he wanted them both to have some extra training with a pair of his old comrades who also had animal alt-modes. Apparently they had been part of a team with one of Bumblebee's best friends during the war. 

A little after nine on Thursday morning, Nightshade was trying to install some last minute updates to their security system, when they heard the sound of unmistakably heavy footprints outside the barn. 

They rushed outside, Jawbreaker hot on their heels to see a pair of Cybertronians who couldn't have been more different. 

The one on the left had to have been one of the smallest grown bots Nightshade had ever seen, not more than a head taller than Twitch and Thrash, with a muted brown and grey colour scheme whilst the other was nearly three times his height with a bright blue face place and golden armour.  

"Rattrap! Dinobot!" Bumblebee called out, hurrying over to greet them from where he had been talking to Mom in the house. "Thank you so much for agreeing to help out today!" 

"It was nothin'!" The short one replied. "Although we would've gotten here on time if Dino-butt had agreed to ask for directions." 

He pointed an accusational digit to his left. 

"Yes because the humans would've been so receptive to a dinosaur and a giant rat." The bot who Nightshade assumed was the one called Dinobot retorted with a growl.. 

"It's nice to see the end of the war hasn't changed you both." Bumblebee interjected before Rattrap could carry on what would have been an ensuing argument. 

"I can't say the same for you kid!" Rattrap whistled. "I'm digging the flashy new camaro!" 

 "I'm hardly a kid anymore." Bumblebee said with a contradicting pout. 

"Hey to me, you and Cheetor will always be kids, kid." Rattrap retorted before turning his attention to the Terrans. 

Nightshade straightened their back, hoping to make a better first impression than they had with Tarantulas. Which shouldn’t be too hard considering their first meeting had been when they'd broken into his home. 

"And you must be the lucky bot I'm here to tutor!" Rattrap said, pointing his digits like guns towards them. "Nightshade right? Follow me!" 

Nightshade nodded, not trusting themselves to open their mouth in fear that all the questions building up in their processor would spill out. 

Still they gave their nervous brother a squeeze of reassurance as they left Jawbreaker behind with Dinobot whilst Rattrap walled away from the farm. 

Rattrap led them deeper into the forest until even with their large ears, Nightshade couldn't hear the rumble of civilization. Eventually they came to a clearing free of trees. 

"Perfect!" Rattrap declared, giving no further warning before he transformed into his alt mode. 

Nightshade nearly stumbled over in shock. They had never seen an alt-mode like it before. In robot mode Rattrap was undoubtedly made of metal and wires like the rest of them. But now he was covered in what looked like real fur with even peaks of soft flesh underneath. For all intents and purposes, he looked like a real rat. Albeit a giant one. 

"Wow! Your alt mode is incredible!" Nightshade gushed, unable to stop the flow of questions flooding out. "Have you always been able to transform into an animal? Why did you choose a rat? And why do so few cybertronians choose organic alt modes?"

Thankfully, Rattrap didn't seem to mind, appearing more than happy to talk about himself. 

"We can disguise ourselves as any of the native species. But since our civilisation is built around vehicles, most bots ain't got the processor power to think of transforming into anything else. Not like us geniuses."

Nightshade perked up. They hadn't known Rattrap was a certified genius too! (Although they would later learn that that was an exaggeration on the rat's behalf.) 

"Now it's your turn, kid!"

Feeling more integrated than they ever had during Bumblebee's lessons, Nightshade transformed into their alt mode, revelling in the freeing feeling of wings stretching into place. 

"Nice ride! Diggin' the mechanical touches!" Rattrap told them. "Now the reason I brought you out here to the middle of nowhere is because the best way to learn from nature is to become one with it. That sister of yours got all the powers of Wheeljack's fancy drones right? So why shouldn't you get all that owl's powers too huh?" 

Having used Hashtag's Internet expertise to learn all they could about the animal, nightshade doubted that there was a fact about owls that they had that they did not know about. 

Without thinking of safety measures, Nightshade turned their head almost all the way around, the mechanism that formed their neck feeling as though it had been specially designed to do so. Perhaps on some unconscious level it had. 

As they turned around, they could see all the varieties of trees around them. However it was dark under the canopy of the forest so even though they had learnt from Mother all the different kinds, it was hard to tell exactly which they were. Without thinking, their eyes adjusted to the darkness, switching to an infrared vision allowing them to see everything in high definition. 

But Nightshade hadn't just based their alt mode on an owl. They had based it from the creatures in Dad's book. 

They opened their mouth emitting a screeching wave of sonar that blasted an echo back whenever it hit a tree. 

Nightshade spun back to face Rattrap only to see that the rat’s easy smile of confidence had been replaced with a slack jawed shock. 

"I've seen a lot of birds on my time on this planet,” Rattrat whistled. “And I ain't ever seen one do that before!"

"That is because my alt-mode is not technically an owl. It is a character from the Winged Sentinel series of books." 

“I ain’t ever read a book, but that is pretty impressive that you was able to utilise an alt-mode from one! Must be a sign of a good teacher if I do say so myself." Rattrap said, his confidence returning easily. 

Nightshade couldn't help but preen in pride. Even if a part of them wondered if Tarantulas would have been proud too. 

Rattrap decided that now was the perfect time to take a break from training because apparently it was also the perfect time for a mid day siesta. 

They wandered back towards the barn where Jawbreaker was finishing up his training with Dinobot. Their brother was usually quite shy so Nightshade was glad to see Jawbreaker talking animatedly away to his temporary mentor.

 Nightshade was about to head over to them when Mom opened the kitchen windows, and the smell of fresh rust sticks guided them towards her instead. 

With a sincere thank you, Nightshade grabbed a handful of the still warm treats. 

As Jawbreaker chatted with Mom, Nightshade instead decided to sit in the field next door. Munching on their rust sticks, they watched Fluffy Ears sniff around their pedes for crumbs. 

They tried to distract their mind by focusing on petting the creature but they couldn't help but think of a certain Deception scientist. They knew Tarantulas would have been just as fascinated by their newly discovered abilities as they were and would want to test the extent of their powers. They wished they could have shared the discovery with him.

Lost in these thoughts, Nightshade was surprised when Dinobot chose to sit beside them, considering that they hadn't spoken properly to each other yet. 

They were even more surprised with what Dinobot said next.

"I used to work with Tarantulas."

"You were a Deception?" Nightshade startled. 

"Of sorts," Dinobot replied, which didn't really answer Nightshade's question. Before their scientific mind could question him further, Dinobot carried on. "Therefore unlike the others I will not lie to palitate you. To do so would be dishonourable. Tarantulas was a disgusting creature who took great pleasure in perverting the laws of nature."

It wasn't as if they could really doubt Dinobot's claim. The bot had obviously known Tarantulas far longer than Nightshade had. And Unfortunately it did sound like something the scientist was capable of. He had been a genius but even if they had been blind to it before there was a certain unhingeness underneath. 

"Even before I switched sides we were never close. He thought I was a traitor which was rather ironic for someone who so often meddled his own schemes behind Megatron's back." Dinobot continued. "But those he was close too, I had never seen such undying loyalty. It is the only aspect of his character that I could call honourable." 

"And from Chopperface, that's the highest form of compliment you can get." Rattrap butted in, sprawling himself across Dinobot's outstretched legs. "And yet he still won't say it about his dear old conjunx." 

"That's because the only thing honourable about you vermin, is that you're conjunxed to me." 

Conjunxed? All of the questions previously firing from Nightshade's CPU froze at that word. 

Until that moment, all their data suggested that the two barely tolerated each other. 

But now they watched as between the bickering, Dinobot leaned over so that his shadow shielded Rattrap's eyes from the sun whilst the other held up rust sticks to his pointed teeth. And suddenly the word made sense.

Nightshade couldn't help but smile at the antics on display. As whether the pair knew it or not, they had taught Nightshade far more than they probably intended. 

They hadn't known Tarantulas as well as they thought they had. But it didn't mean that the scientist didn't care about them. Just as at first glance Dinobot and Rattrap might've been seen as hating each other. Until you looked a little closer. 

As for better or worse there was more to all of them than first meets the eye. 

#nightshade #nightshade malto #transformers #dinotrap #beast wars #earthspark #transformers earthspark #tfe #bumblebee #jawkbreaker #jawbreaker malto #rattrap #dinobot #rattrap x dinobot #tarantulas #dorothy malto #dot malto