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heyidkyay · 11 months

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

Part Twenty-Two

Butterflies, summertime, all belong to your creation!

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

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

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

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

Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was going to be long trip.

—

“What’s with the evil eye?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I pulled a face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Definitely a serial killer in another life.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fingers crossed.” I laughed.

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s so funny?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you need?”

I blinked, surprised by the question.

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

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

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

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

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

“Fucks sake.”

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can say no.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why wouldn’t I?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have to tell the truth.”

“Obviously.”

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

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

“Alright. Who goes first?”

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

Ever the gentleman.

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

His eyes trailed between my own. “Green.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hummed. “Knew it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stroke victim or summat.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nodded.

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

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

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

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

“Why not?”

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

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

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

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

“Could be worse, I ‘spose.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can make that promise.”

Part Twenty-Three>

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tea-moon-ster · 1 year

Text

Alex gets traded to the Lions

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

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

TW: mild, short panic attack. Vaincre spoilers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Number two. Beep.

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

Number three. Beep.

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

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

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

Beep.

Holy shit.

Holy fucking shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Talk to us, baby.”

“Is it raining?”

“That’s his kitchen, sweetie.”

“Oh. Wait, is there a fire?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No way! No freaking way!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re one to talk.”

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

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

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

“I could leave right now” Alex realised.

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

“Oh, fuck, Finn. I gotta call Finn.”

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

“I know” Alex replied, voice breaking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hiya, teammate.”

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

“Guess we made it, eh Fish?”

“Alex.”

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

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

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

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

Yeah, Fishy.

Promise?

I promise.

“Well, I promised, didn’t I?”

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

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

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

“Good thing.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Lion.”

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

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

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

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

“I was just very shocked, alright.”

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

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

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

#lumosinlove #sweater weather lumosinlove #vaincre lumosinlove #alex o'hara #o'darwin #kasey winter #natalie darcy #o'knutzy #finn o'hara #angst with a happy ending #lou's writing

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we-return-in-waves · 1 year

Note

Top 5 lines you’ve written in your fics?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

thank you so much for the ask <333

#ask game #flow i lov u sm for this #nightingaleflow #fanfiction #writing gronp hours #ao3 #gaalee #<- since these are all glg fics lol

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gingerbreadmonsters · 1 year

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bury the hatchet

or: ugh, i’ve got a splitting headache...

gn!reader, big big warnings for violence and blood, some good old-fashioned high society murder to take with tea. one final stab of horror to close out this year’s spooky season!! i… don’t really know how to preface this - something happened in the angst channel, and i guess this is what you get?? you can blame the brilliant, gorgeous minds of the wonderful @sri-rachaa and @zozo-01 for our concept today, which i absolutely did not go completely overboard with. <333 william living up to his reputation in 1700 words or less.

very very big trigger warnings attached to this one: blood, heavy gore, death and dead bodies, graphic descriptions of murder and violence, mutilation, fatal injury. PLEASE don’t feel like you have to read this one, and i strongly encourage you to stop reading at any point if you feel uncomfortable. consider yourself adequately warned.

this fic contains graphic content that may not be suitable or appropriate for readers under the age of 18. reader discretion is heavily advised. dead dove: do not eat. minors dni. thank you.

It takes surprisingly little force to smash a vampire’s skull, when you really think about it.

(Obviously, not for a human, but that’s not really the matter at hand here.)

For example, you could use a weapon - some kind of blunt instrument to really build up some momentum. A bat, or a club, or a stave of some sort. Perhaps something sharper, like a knife or a machete. Something heavier, like an axe or a mace? For a proper shatter, you need something with a bit of weight to it. Or, if you’re in the mood for something a touch more classic, you could always just use your hands. There’s very little you can’t do if you have enough strength.

If there’s one thing that William Solaire does not lack, it’s strength.

He doesn’t remember this particular troublemaker’s name - he must be from one of those god-awful clans that insists on elbowing their way into the social season, despite their eldest ones only being a century old at most. The whole pack of them love parading around like their little name means something, throwing their weight around like children and with the fashion sense to match. Really, does nobody have any taste any more? You’d think being made immortal would give you a reason to look after your reputation - you’ll be holding onto it for a very long time, after all. Unless maybe they want to be known as the spoilt brats of polite vampiric society, in which case they’re doing an excellent job. Honestly. It’s abhorrent. They disgrace the good name of the Old Blood.

Something else they’re determined to disgrace, it seems, is him.

Mumbling, chattering, snickering around the table when they think he’s not listening. Failed impressions in terrible French accents. One of the younger ones - she can’t be more than five or ten years turned, at most - eyes the chain of his pocket watch disdainfully, turning to her companion to mutter disparagingly about overdone aesthetics and a lack of originality. Please. He was there when the pocket watch was invented. If anyone should be concerned about a tired, washed-up design aesthetic, it should be that other couple from this clan of fools standing just behind her. Apparently, they didn’t get the memo that the Summit is formal wear only - he may be old, but that doesn’t mean he can’t spot 100% polyester from a mile away.

Unfortunately, their crimes aren’t limited to the world of fashion. Really, you’d be surprised just how clumsy vampires can be. A glass of blood that just so happens to tip all down the front of Alexis’ dress. What a horrible accident. A carelessly-swung handbag that almost knocks Vincent down the stairs in the foyer. A shocking mistake. It’s all something of a farce, if he’s honest. Pantomime villains, or not even that - a whole clan of half-baked sidekicks, tripping over themselves to trip him up, thinking they’re bigger and badder than they actually are.

(The most amusing thing is that they think they’re winning, the poor dears. If he were feeling slightly more generous, he might even take pity on them. It’s a cutthroat sort of world here at the top - there’s no need to fake it when you’re already the real deal, and glass beads will never pass for diamonds.)

It’s clear that they don’t know who he is. Their first mistake, really. These things can be confusing, but if you’re really so brainless as to not recognise William Solaire on sight, then why are you even here? He and his children aren’t exactly unknown in these circles. There are only a precious few vampiric bloodlines still in existence that are older than his, and the reasons why aren’t exactly secret. Vincent alone is certainly no blushing flower when it comes to these sorts of things, and you’re saying that you’ve never heard of Alexis Solaire? Difficult to believe. Any vampire worth their salt knows the infamous princess of the Solaire Clan, one way or another. Famous faces turn heads for all sorts of reasons, and some families are just more famous than others.

The pointing and laughing is almost entertaining, at least for a short while. It’s like they don’t know any better. Perhaps they don’t. These young ones never seem to want to listen, and surely it falls to their elders to teach them a lesson, doesn’t it? Or, at least, it would if the elders of this array of nuisances had any brains to share amongst themselves. Young and arrogant and foolish, drunk on pretend power and heady on real blood. Fangs on full display, yet somehow all bark and no bite. The display grows tiresome very quickly. Play bloodthirsty-vampire games, win bloodthirsty-vampire prizes. Spoilt children need to learn how to grow up, and fast.

“He’s not even from one of the important clans here. Do they just give out invites to random vamps on the street or something? Apparently, the other two are his kids, but I have no idea who they’re meant to be.”

How fortunate, then, that William Solaire is so very old. There are so many things he can teach them. But where should he start?

Perhaps with a little lesson in vampiric biology.

Some unempowered humans believe that a stake through the heart can kill a vampire. They’re entirely correct. Vampires are not so different to ordinary humans, despite what one might think. It depends, of course, on the specific nature of the injury itself, and the strength of the vampire in question, but for the most part the myth is true. How many people do you know, biologically immortal or otherwise, who have come back from having their heart crushed into pulp? The answer is probably not many. If you stake a vampire through the heart, they are almost always sure to die.

This is something that a little clan of idiots learns very quickly, as they loiter in the foyer, kicking up an ungodly racket and taking up twice as much space as they really ought to. They also learn that an elaborately decorated, evening-appropriate cane is a very good substitute for a stake, when you’re in a pinch.

The Old Bloods know what’s going on. Nobody makes any move to stop him.

The silence is immediate. He pulls it free, that slick, delicious sound echoing through the entryway as blood spatters the delicately-gilded wallpaper, and the limp body falls to the floor from where it was pinned to the plaster. From clear across the hall, too. That really had been an excellent shot. A champagne glass smashes in terrified fingers, a dropped phone clatters against the tile, the beginnings of a horrified scream quickly stifled by a slightly more sensible hand. Deer in the headlights, the lot of them. If you’re going to do it, you may as well do it properly, and you should always make sure the job is finished.

His glove and about a inch or two of his sleeve are wet with blood as he reaches inside, turning the syrupy mess of what used to be a vampiric heart over in his hand. It pulses just a little, tiny involuntary twitches while it cools, but it’s not worth saving - delicately, he drops it back into the cracked mess of the body cavity with a sticky slap, letting the strings and pipes and cords settle as he takes in the scene in front of him. Poor, frightened children. Some try to fight back, to protest, to taunt him. Make him out to be a madman, or perhaps a maniac. Some try to run, but there’s nowhere to go. Honestly, don’t they see it? The writing on the wall is a familiar shade of red, and an upstart clan of brainless bloodsuckers isn’t going to make it out unscathed.

It takes surprisingly little force to break the skull of a vampire. That much, we’ve already established. The difficult part is getting them to stay still long enough to let you.

Perhaps just one more. To make an example. Vincent, bless him, always seems to know exactly what he’s thinking - before anyone can blink, another troublemaker is held captive at his feet, face crushed into the unyielding floor and arms locked immobile behind him. A familiar polyester tie clashes with the muted, tasteful colour of the tile. You cannot bargain with what you do not understand. There is no mercy for those who break the rules, else we all find out if you really are as brainless as you appear. Some things are best seen with your own eyes, and the inside of the human body is not exactly an unfamiliar thing for an audience like this.

Nobody disrespects the name of the clan. Isn’t that what family’s for? William Solaire has taught his young ones well. The wet crunch as a perfectly polished high heel splits a vampiric skull in half, and a young man rolls his eyes as his sister laughs, silently bemoaning the juice and slush and bone fragments that now stain his shirt. It all comes out in the wash. Well, at least we know there was certainly a brain in there somewhere. What a pity it was never used.

The show is magnificent - the other guests gradually wander back to their business, in quiet admiration, as the bodies are discreetly removed by a handful of unobtrusive staff. Oh, he couldn’t be prouder. His wonderful, darling daughter, and his incredible, precious son. No father could ask for more.

(Funnily enough, the guest list is considerably shorter the next time this particular event is held. How curious.)

It seems the lesson sticks. It’s so lovely when things work out the way you want them to, and William has never been afraid of getting his hands dirty when he needs to. Sometimes, reminders are a necessary evil.

The Solaire Clan is old for a reason. After all, vampires have always known to fear the sun. The clan that bears its name ought not to disgrace its reputation.

masterlist

this is an original work by @gingerbreadmonsters - please do not repost or misattribute

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redacted william #redacted vincent #redacted alexis #redacted solaire clan #ginger writes #ginger after dark #gingerbreadmonsters

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final-girl96 · 2 years

Text

Chapter Three

Wednesday

September 25, 1996

Since it got really late and I didn’t want to go home and be alone I just stayed at Stu’s. The guest bedroom was basically my room. It was the same way at my house for him. We even have clothes and all that at each other’s houses. It’s always been that way since our dads were best friends. I walked down the stairs after I had showered and got ready for school. Stu was already in the kitchen eating a bowl of cereal. “Good morning, gorgeous,” he said around a mouth full of frosted flakes. “Morning.” I said, grabbing a cup of coffee.

Stu put his empty bowl in the sink and walked over to stand in front of me. I don’t know why I was feeling awkward again. Last night wasn’t awkward after we had started just being our old selves. But now I felt awkward and I felt my body stiffen when he set his hands on my hips. “So, what shall we do today?” He asked. I moved away from him, going over to the bread box and pulling out a couple pieces of bread, placing them in the toaster. “We’re going to school, Stu. I have an exam in biology today and I can’t miss it.”

"What's there to fucking process? I love you and you love me. I want to be with you as more than a friend. I want to be able to tell people that you're mine. I wanna be able to kiss you whenever I want. Wherever I want. I want to walk in that school with you as my girlfriend and not just as my best friend." I set my plate in the sink, washed it, dried it, and put it away. I did the same with the coffee cup. "Please, Stu. You know I hate having things sprung on me. I need time to think. I mean what happens if we decide to start dating and then things go wrong. What do we do if we break up? Are we going to be able to go back to being like we are now? Are we going to be able to be best friends after that?"

"You're making this more complicated than it needs to be, sweetheart. I don't know about you but I plan to be with you until the day I die. Whether that's just as friends or as more." He grabbed his keys from the counter and headed for the garage. "I'll be in the jeep waiting." He slammed the door to the garage and I jumped. I sighed and grabbed my bag, following him.

Once I was in the passenger seat and had my seatbelt buckled Stu speed up his long ass fuck driveway. The closest neighbor was like five miles away. His house was literally in the middle of fucking nowhere. Maybe I will go to Casey's tonight. "Gotta pick Billy up." I looked over at Stu. He had one hand on the wheel and was leaning on his other that was propped up on the open window.

"Are you mad at me?" I asked. I could see the way his jaw tensed and his fingers tightened on the wheel. He looked over at me before looking back at the road. He switched his hands so he could lay his hand on my thigh just under my skirt. I had to remember how to breathe. Why was this any different from when he did it any other time? Oh right because now I know his true feelings.

"I'm not mad, babe. I could never be mad at you." His hand moved further up my skirt and between my legs. Just as we got closer to Billy's house his fingers grazed over the front of my panties. He moved them to the edge of them and pushed them to the side. I should stop him. That's what I kept telling myself. But I didn't. I let him slip his fingers through my slit and to my entrance. I spread my legs a little more so he had better access.

"That's it, baby, spread your legs for me. I knew you wanted it. Just feel how fucking went you are." He chuckled, slipping two fingers inside of me. It's not the first time I've been touched like this. I've just never gone all the way. I gripped his wrist just as his thumb brushed over my clit. "Stu," I gasped. His thumb drew lazy circles on my clit, fingers pumped in and out of me.

So much for fucking thinking about it. Maybe he's right. Maybe I am making this all more complicated than it actually is. "We're getting close to Billy's. You gonna be a good girl and cum for me?" His fingers worked faster, my head hit the headrest and a moan of his name slipped past my lips. He worked me through the oragasm and pulled his fingers away just as he pulled into Billy's driveway.

"Hmm. I knew you were going to taste good." He sucked his fingers clean and Billy walked out the front door. I got out, getting ready to get in the back. "Where do you think you're going?" Stu asked. "To the back so Billy can sit up front?" It came out as a question more than anything. "Billy can sit in the back. My girl always gets shotgun." I felt my face heat up. Billy raised his eyebrow at us and got in the back.

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cousinkooksbackup · 7 months

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Exchanged Love. || a bellyjere au fic

chapter seventeen

previous chapter | next chapter | table of contents

bellys pov

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#belly conklin #bellyjere #jeremiah fisher #tsitp #the summer i turned pretty #el17

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envihellbender · 1 year

Note

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

OCs: Mathias Iversen, Declan Gerritz

Content: Kidnapping, possessive/controlling, improbable science

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#oc mathias #Mathias Iversen #oc Declan #Declan gerritz #writblr #yandere #kidnapping #possessive #envi writes #writing

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rabbitcruiser · 1 year

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National Take the Stairs Day

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

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

History of National Take the Stairs Day

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

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

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

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

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

National Take the Stairs Day timeline

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

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

2016 A Day For Taking Stairs

The internet first hears of Take the Stairs Day.

2019 Backed By Science

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

2020 A Guinness Record For Stair Climbing

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

National Take the Stairs Day FAQs

When is National Take the Stairs Day?

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

What are the benefits of stair climbing?

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

How many stairs should I climb for a good workout?

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

National Take the Stairs Day Activities

Take the stairs

Design a stairs-climbing challenge

Climb stairs for a killer cardio burn

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

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

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

5 Facts About Exercising That Will Blow Your Mind

Let the music take control

Exercising is good for the brain

Bring on the muscles

Slows down aging

Variety is super important

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

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

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

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

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

Why We Love National Take the Stairs Day

It challenges us

Gratitude for our lungs

A community endeavor

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

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

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

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itsme-basil · 2 years

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Katoptronphilia - read on ao3

Tags: sterek

Tagging: @therogueheart

Stiles didn't know he had a thing until Derek. He didn't know he had a lot of things until Derek, if he's being honest with himself.

Derek brought to light all the deep dark things that most people kept to themselves. Like how he was a secret slut for exhibitionism, or how he cums harder than he ever has in his entire life to Derek sticking his fingers in alongside his cock.

Stiles had a very vanilla high school sex life. He thought with the whole supernatural world being brought to his attention meant he'd get to the rough stuff. Like in the movies where there's rope and blindfolds and safe words.

But Stiles went through most of high school still a virgin, and when he finally did have sex, it was all missionary stuff. Sometimes Stiles got to be on top, and sometimes the positions changed, but when Stiles asked for more, his partners would come up with an excuse why they were no longer comparable.

College was more of the same, and after four years with on again off again semester flings, Stiles moved back to Beacon Hills. And so did Derek.

They were both older now, more mature, and weren't so emotionally constipated. Though Stiles still had to ask Derek out first. He did most of everything first.

Until the bedroom.

The first time Derek forced Stiles to hold onto the bedframe and told him; "don't let go, if you let go, I stop." Stiles thought his heart would beat out of his chest. And it just went downhill from there.

Stiles got tied up, he got edged, he was milked for all he had. He was blindfolded and choked and bit and scratched. Derek left careful bruises along his pale skin and rode Stiles until the boy couldn't walk the next day.

It was amazing and everything Stiles was missing out on with sex. He was in love, and he was happily sore for days on end.

They decided to move in together on their one year anniversary. They found a small apartment close to Stiles' dad's place, and within walking distance of the preserve. It was perfect.

Except for today. Stiles had been forced to work a double, since Parrish had called in sick -really he just wanted the day off to go visit Lydia. Hell hounds couldn't get sick, and his dad knew that. So Stiles was working Jordan's five am to noon, on top of his one pm to eight pm shift.

He'd been on desk duty for the first half, but then it seemed like every call for his second shift was directed to Stiles and his partner.

They responded to two domestic situations where someone got mad at another and started yelling and throwing dishes. They responded to a mugging across the river in the warehouse district, and a missing kid case. They found the kid walking down to the playground. He was fine.

And then there was a robbery at a gas station and Stiles had to tackle the guy responsible when he tried to run.

The absolute worst though, was a car accident. The woman was rushed to the hospital in critical condition. Her child -who was maybe five- got a bruise from his car seat buckle and wouldn't stop crying.

The man in the other vehicle was drunk, and underage. He'd tried to drive off after the fact, but ended up in a ditch a mile up the road.

Stiles had so much paperwork for the day that he didn't get out of work until close to nine, and he was exhausted. He trudged up the stairs to the second floor, cursing the elevator for deciding to break down a week ago, and then cursing the landlord for not having it fixed yet.

He reached his and Derek's apartment and zombie walked towards his bedroom.

"You look like you had a wonderful day," Derek snorted when Stiles came into their room. He didn't say anything, just unbuckled his utility belt and set it down on the nightstand.

"I'm going to set everything Jordan loves on fire," he finally said, pulling his work shirt out from his pants and beginning the tedious process of unbuttoning it.

"That bad, huh?"

Stiles levelled him with a look, tossing the shirt over the chair in the corner of the room.

"Did I say anything to my dad in the past week that would make him punish me?" He asked, stepping out of his pants. His socks and undershirt are tossed into the hamper, and his underwear follows seconds later.

"C'mere," Derek hummed, reaching for Stiles from across the bed. Stiles sighed, crawling over and flopping over his werewolf boyfriend's lap.

"M'so tired," he whined.

Derek carded his fingers through his hair, the slightly sharp nails scratching at his scalp and making him shiver.

"Let me make you feel good," Derek responded, voice low and husky. Stiles forced himself off his stomach to look up at him. He'd never say no to an orgasm.

"S'long as I don't gotta do anything," he agreed. Derek smirked and kissed his lips before shifting, kicking the blankets down to the end of the bed.

Stiles lets the werewolf move him, getting him to lay on Derek's chest, facing the ceiling. Stiles freezes the second he sees himself. Derek had mounted a mirror onto their ceiling.

"Der," Stiles huffed, looking at the man under him through the mirror.

"Trust me," Derek grinned, looping an arm around Stiles' stomach. "It's gonna be good."

Stiles didn't know how watching himself being fucked was gonna be good. He didn't know what his O-face was and he honestly was content never finding out.

But he trusted Derek. So he nodded. Derek bent his legs, forcing Stiles to do the same. He hooked his knees on the outside of Derek's and the werewolf spread them apart easily. Stiles' eyes tracked to his crotch.

He could see Derek's cock pressing up against him, pressed between his cheeks and brushing against his balls. He watched as his own thickened.

Derek's hands slithered down his sides, bumping along his rib cage and sending lazy shivers down to his toes. Stiles couldn't help but sigh heavily, relaxing further into Derek.

Derek kissed at his neck, tongue clicking out to lick at him before teeth chased the coolness of drying spit with a sharp drag. Stiles moaned, his hips already moving without his consent.

Derek always knew what buttons to push to get Stiles riled up, and no mirror hanging over them made it any harder. In fact, Stiles thought to his surprise, he kind of liked it.

He liked seeing Derek's face pressed against his neck, mouth working a hickey into his skin. Liked how Derek's hands moved from his sides, down, down, down to the middle until both settled on the crook of his groin, cradling Stiles' cock, not touching.

Those hands moved up the inside of Stiles' thighs as he spread his legs further. "Derek," he whined, eyes falling closed as he let his head fall back into the pillow. The angle was hard with Derek's shoulder at his neck.

"Open your eyes," Derek ordered on a growl. Stiles did, looking up in the mirror just in time for Derek to bite down hard on his shoulder.

Stiles bit down on a cry, his toes curling with an effort to keep from rocking back on Derek, demanding Derek get on with it.

He didn't have to though. Derek's hands returned, past his groin, up his stomach and to his chest. One stopped on his nipple, tweaking and pulling at it while the other kept going up and up, curling around his throat.

Stiles gasped, chest heaving with an effort to breathe. He couldn't take his eyes off the mirror. He was flushed, draped over Derek like a blanket. He could see Derek's silhouette under him, his sides peeking out from behind Stiles' slimmer form.

Derek smirked against his neck before turning his head to look at the mirror too. Their eyes locked and Stiles whimpered at the glow of red eyes, the dark smirk toying at his lips.

The hand playing with Stiles' nipple lowered once more, playing with the coarse hair at his pubic bone before curling around the base of his cock.

"Watch me, baby," Derek murmured. Stiles watched him turn his head, press his lips to the shell of Stiles' ear. Stiles' eyes dropped to Derek's hand.

The stroke was dry. It felt good. Just rough enough to keep Stiles from losing interest from exhaustion. His hips rolled with each tug from the werewolf, grinding his ass against Derek's cock.

He couldn't take his eyes off of himself. He watched the head of his cock disappear in Derek's hand only to reappear a moment later. His tip was red and angry, slick from precum beading at the slit.

"Oh, my god," he mewled, back arching. The hand around his throat tightened and a growl reverberated against him, in his ear, through his skin.

"Are you looking?" Derek asked. Stiles nodded, a reedy moan pulled from his mouth as Derek let his thumb drag over the head before moving down to the base once more.

"Look at how pretty you react to my touch," Derek continued. "I made that blush."

The words were whispered against the shell of Stiles' ear. "I made you hard and desperate, leaking."

Stiles felt his balls tighten. This was too hot. Stiles couldn't keep his eyes off himself. It was like he was seeing someone else. His eyes trailed along all the spots Derek pointed out were his doing. He knew it was him he was staring at in the mirror.

He felt Derek's hand on him, and saw it. Saw everything like he was watching porn, but felt everything like he was actually in it.

And he was hot.

So was Derek.

The two of them together like this was nearly too much for Stiles to take. He hadn't gotten this close to his own climax since he was in high school, and he blushed crimson in embarrassment as he locked up.

"Der, I'm gonna cum," he warned, voice high pitched and breathy. He closed his eyes, squeezing them shut and biting his lip hard. He could feel it at the base of his cock, seconds away from spewing like a geyser.

"Open your eyes."

The hand around Stiles' throat tightened. Stiles opened his eyes just as he felt his orgasm hit. His cock bobbed in Derek's hand and white cum shot into his chest. Stiles shouted at the intensity of it, back arching and hands gripping the sheets on either side of them.

Derek continued to jerk him off until the last of him was wringed out. He flipped onto Derek's chest, out of breath. His eyes raked up his body, flush and sweaty, cum streaked against his stomach and Derek's hand.

"We-" he took a breath. Derek looked at him through the mirror. "We gotta do that again."

Derek smirked and kissed his neck again. Stiles turned his head, finally meeting Derek's eyes without the mirror and kissed him hard. The best thing about still being young, was his refractory period was short.

"You didn't get off," he breathed against Derek's mouth, turning further. Derek's hands stayed on his sides, keeping him from falling off as Stiles got a better angle. Derek hummed.

"I'm about to," Derek grinned. Stiles didn't have time to respond before they were rolling over. Stiles landed on his back, pinned down. Derek fumbled with getting Stiles to lift his legs, reaching a hand down to Stiles' ass. Cum wet his fingers as he shoved two in.

Stiles keened, pulling Derek down. The werewolf latched onto his neck and Stiles' eyes locked into the mirror. This was even better, he thought. Seeing himself curled around Derek while the man worked his fingers into him, readying him for his cock.

"Don't ever take this mirror down," Stiles ordered.

#teen wolf #sterek #kinktober #my writing

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