#”worse company” in part four made me actually lose my shit though

[dykeonysus]

Honestly I enjoy the jjba dub but I REALLY appreciate the part 5 dub actors for being able to shout the stupidest names in the most serious voices ever. ”Lil bomber” this and “Zipper man” that. “Emperor Crimson.” It’s great. Good on em.

[goodlucktai]

(I feel like I should finish your prompt first but. These ones are so good....feel free to ignore if you have too many asks but 29 or 33 with chocobros...?

PROMPTS LIST

33. “Are you SURE I can’t punch him in the face?” “Yes.” “What if I just break his nose a little?”

ik i just did this one for natsuyuu but...........chocobros

x

They're somewhere in Duscae, near enough to the coast that each breeze carries a hint of the sea, on another errand for another stranger to scrape together enough gil to eat tonight.

They've stopped at the last little roadside cluster of shops before the countryside stretches far and wide and wild, stocking up on what meager supplies they can afford.

Noctis has never lived this way before. He's never gone to bed hungry before. Neither has Gladio or Ignis, for all their world-weariness and the general practical knowledge and common sense they walk around with that far surpasses Noctis' own.

Ignis can budget with the best of them, and Gladio is willing to eat literally anything at any time, but Prompto is the one who gets it.

He chats at length about all the times he's had to get creative with pasta or rice because it was all that was left in his pantry. Back in high school, when he could only work part-time. When someone should have been taking care of him, and instead he was left to figure out how to stretch a tiny budget much farther than made sense.

"Come on, Iggy," he said once when they were out shopping, half-laughing. Like he thought Ignis was joking. "Fresh produce? We've got like a hundred gil between the four of us and we're totally out of restoratives."

And Ignis paused, and glanced sidelong at him. He put back the crisp, flowery vegetables and pulled out his little notebook and asked for suggestions instead. It took Prompto a few minutes to convince himsef that Ignis was taking him seriously, but now they like, bond over canned fruit.

"I'm gonna kill this catoblepas with my bare hands," Gladio says with feeling, leaning against the car. "I'm so godsdamned sick of pasta. Don't tell Iggy I said that."

Noctis rolls an energy drink between his hands absently, brow furrowed. It's tricky business, and he's not very good at it just yet, but home-made elixirs save them a ton of gil. He feels guilty when they have to spend their money on something he should be able to do himself.

"I'm telling him," he says without missing a beat. "He'll never forget, and he'll give you shit every single time you make cup noodles from now on, forever."

"I can't stand you," Gladio tells him seriously.

The bell above the door of the convenience store rings brightly, and Noctis glances up to see Ignis and Prompto walking out looking a lot more cheerful than they did going in.

Gladio's face does something very subtle and specific when he sees them, there and gone in a second, before Noctis can pin it down and figure it out.

"What are you two chucklefucks up to?" he calls over. Ignis immediately narrows a disapproving stare at him, but Prompto beams.

"I got a commission, sort of!" he says.

"A commission?" Noctis parrots, sending the energy drink back to the Armiger.

"Sort of?" Gladio adds.

"While we were checking out, the store-owner saw my camera, and seemed really into it," Prompto says. "Since, you know. It's unique."

Noctis does know. The digital camera hanging at Prompto's side has been with him since Noctis first bought it for him three years ago. He would rebuild it every so often, bowed over a collection of impossibly tiny parts spread out carefully across a dish towel at the kitchen table in Noctis' apartment. To call it unique is a bit of an understatement.

Gladio frowns, sensing where this is going a split-second before Noctis does. "And?"

"And he offered me money for it! Like, more than it's worth probably. A lot more."

"I don't see how that could be possible," Ignis says smoothly, leaning through the open window of the Regalia to put the shopping bag in the backseat. "Since your camera is clearly priceless. Which is what I explained to the man."

Noctis relaxes, glad that Ignis and Prompto have bonded over shopping to the point that neither of them want to do it unless they can go together-- because if Prompto had been in there by himself, he 100% would have sold his camera. He would have hated to do it, but he would have done it. It's like he thinks he owes his friends something just for letting him exist.

"Good looking out, Specs," Gladio says gruffly. Prompto waffles a bit, looking torn between pleased and embarrassed. Noctis decides to rescue him.

"What commission, though?" he asks.

"Oh, right. Well, he was kind of bummed about the camera, but he asked if he could see some of my photos, and Ignis said we had time-- "

If it were literally anyone else, Noctis thinks, up to and including and especially the Actual Crown Prince, Ignis would have said they were in a hurry and not to show off.

"--and he seemed really impressed! With the photos! I told him we were going to take down a catoblepas, and he asked why, and I said for some cash, I mean, clearly," Prompto adds, gesturing at the four of them and their general road grime. "So he, ah-- well he's never seen a catoblepas up close before, and he said if I could get some good pictures of it, he'd pay me for them. He gave me a figure, and it's, like, better than some of the jobs I've done for Vyv."

He's delighted, clearly. He likes feeling like he's pulling his own weight. Noctis is always so relieved when Vyv calls, not because of the inherent payday, but more because it puts this light in Prompto's eyes that Noctis would easily climb a hundred volcanic mountains for.

"Damn, Prompto, at this rate you'll have funded our whole trip," Gladio says. He doesn't ruffle his hair anymore, because Prompto actually hates that, just sort of scrunches his fingers through it instead. Prompto doesn't hate that at all. It's adorable.

Sometimes in the early morning, when he and Noctis are the last to drag themselves out of the tiny camper, they'll do their affirmations together:

"Gotta be our best today," Noctis will say, and Prompto will put on this absurdly determined expression, bed hair hanging into his eyes and cheek still creased pink from the pillow.

"Gotta get those hair scrunches," he'll reply gravely.

"What else did he say, Prompto?" Ignis says in a pleasant tone of voice that Noctis hasn't trusted since he was seven years old.

"Um! Nothing. Nothing worth repeating, anyway, you know." He is looking completely away from them now, an avoidance tactic if Noctis has ever seen one. "Woah, is that really the time? We better get going if we wanna catch that cow before it gets dark!"

He turns toward the car and runs into Gladio's arm instead.

"He suggested that Prompto's talents would be put to better use in different company," Ignis says, his voice carrying clearly over Prompto's whine of 'nooo, Iggy, let it go.' "He said that if Prompto ever got tired of our lifestyle, his door would be open."

Ah, Noctis thinks, followed by, ouch?

"Oh, fuck that guy," Gladio blurts. "Let me go talk to him."

"No!" Prompto clings to his arm, throwing all his weight into keeping Gladio in place. The Shield, who could bench Prom's entire body weight in one hand, lets himself be detained anyway and pretends to be annoyed about it. "Ignis, why are you causing trouble right now?" Prompto says frantically.

"Transparency is important in a relationship," Ignis replies.

"There's transparency and then there's causing trouble. Noct, tell them."

"I think Gladio should go talk to him," Noctis says immediately. But then Prompto looks betrayed, and it makes Noctis feel awful. "Ugh, okay. Okay. We're leaving. Ignis, Gladio, that's an executive order."

"Are you sure I can't punch him in the face?" Gladio grumbles.

"Am I-- yes, dude!" Prompto half-laughs nervously. "Very sure!"

"What if I just broke his nose a little?"

"Then that would be treason, I guess, cause Noct just said no."

It's with the standard amount of bickering and noise that they climb into the car, the top rolling up over their heads as it starts to drizzle. Ignis pulls smoothly back onto the cracked asphalt road and reaches over to turn the radio on; a peace offering. From the backseat, Noctis can see the corner of Prompto's smile, framed by a flyaway piece of yellow hair.

They live this way now, but they didn't always. Noctis used to have the run of the whole Citadel, had his own penthouse apartment, grew up dodging banquets and lavish dinners. It's not like he likes sleeping on the ground and having nothing to eat. It's not like he chose to lose his home.

But it could be worse. It's not a bad way to live, just Noctis and the people he loves best and these countless hours together. There's a lot of hard work and sometimes he goes to bed hungry but he knows he'll remember these days forever. He knows he'll miss them.

"Hey," he says, over the quiet sound of rain on the windows and the catchy synth-pop crooning out of the speakers. "Don't ever sell your camera, okay?"

Prompto says, "I mean, I wouldn't ever want to."

"Seriously," Noctis presses. He doesn't want to let it go. It feels important. "Your pictures are-- they mean the world to me, Prom. I can't even tell you."

His friend looks bewildered. He's half-turned in his seat, and his eyes stray to Gladio, then jump to Ignis, then settle back on Noctis. Whatever he's looking for, he seems to find it, because he smiles.

"Okay, weirdo," he says, "one fully-documented roadtrip, coming up. I won't leave anything out."

Noctis is counting on it.

[jincherie]

four’s company | rapline [m]

✘ — pairing: boxer!rapline x male!reader ✘ — genre: smut!, boxer au, poly au ✘ — wc: 6.4k ✘ — rating: 18+ ✘ — warnings: minor injuries (occupational hazard kind), smut: mxm, light (accidental) voyeurism, light hand kink, baby boy reader, sub/bottom reader, dom/top members, foursome, anal sex, protected sex (don’t forget to wrap ‘em, lads and ladies!), fellatio ✘ — notes: part of a fic exchange within the ghostie network, i’m sorry it’s late!!!!! please accept my humblest apologies!!! @bangtanloverboys​ here you go!! i hope it’s not too shitty!!!

If accidentally walking in on your three crushes in a heated moment, not once, not twice, but thrice isn’t enough to capture their attention, then you don’t know what is. You’re about to find out that you’ve had their attention for a while, though.

— posted; 02.01.2021 || masterlist

For what is far from the first time tonight, you feel the weight of a certain gaze.

Well, to be more specific, it hasn’t just been one gaze you’ve felt on you tonight. More like… three. 

You know who they belong to, unfortunately. It’s the same three people that you found in an… interesting situation earlier. On that was, no doubt, not meant for outside eyes. 

Well, you say that, but you feel like that’s just because you, yourself, are mortified. To be honest, the three boxers you found locking lips and making out in the locker room didn’t seem to be all that ashamed about it.

In fact, when they caught you in the motion of fleeing, they’d had the audacity to grin about it! 

Utterly humiliating. You haven’t been able to bring your gaze anywhere near them all day. To make matters worse, you couldn’t even flee to the safety of your home or anywhere similar, because there is a match tonight and you’re needed as a qualified first aid officer. 

Which brings you to the current predicament; sitting ringside and attempting to avoid the gazes of the three boxers seated on the side adjacent. Try as you might, it’s actually a struggle to keep your eyes on the current match. It’s a rookie night, and you feel extra bad since one of the people in the ring is actually a close friend. 

Though, perhaps you should demote Jungkook from ‘close friend’ status considering he is the reason you started working here and subsequently, had the opportunity to stumble upon a certain scenario this morning. Were it not for him and his stupid, pleading puppy eyes, you wouldn’t have a particular embarrassing image burned into the back of your eyelids.

You know that despite his rookie status, Jungkook is quite a naturally talented boxer. Perhaps that is part of the reason that your brain thinks it’s okay to let your eyes stray from the match instead of watching attentively as you’re expected to. The subconscious certainty that Jungkook can handle himself seems to be your undoing, because in a moment of inattentiveness your eyes manage to reach the area you’d been trying so hard for them to avoid. 

As you’d both feared and expected, they are in fact already looking at you. Well, one of the three. It is the piercing gaze of the club's current lightweight champion, Min Yoongi, that bores a hole into you right now. The two accomplices to his side aren't joining him in drilling their eyes into you across the room for now, instead leaning into each other as though they're whispering amongst themselves. 

There's something about Yoongi's eyes, dark and piercing, that seem to always root you in place no matter where you are. His expression, as it usually tends to be, is unreadable. It's a certain kind of neutrality that graces his features, thin enough that you can tell there is something behind it but too opaque for you to be able to discern exactly what. 

You don't even realise you're trapped in his gaze until the sounding of the bell snaps you out of the spell that seemed to be cast over you. Your head whips back around and you see the referee signalling the end of the bout, and just beyond him Jungkook is standing slightly bent over as he offers a hand to his opponent on the canvas. To your alarm, it is only now that you notice the blood dribbling down the man’s face. The reasonable crowd that has gathered is still cheering (Jungkook was quick to rise as one of the fan favourites) and it’s a wonder you can hear the referee’s call above the ruckus.

“Medic!”

That’s your cue. 

x – x – x 

 “You look kind of on edge, man. Are you alright?”

You’re almost too busy staring into your coffee in a borderline dissociative state to hear Jungkook as he calls for your attention. It has to be about the thirteenth time in the past half hour, but you can’t find the energy to be ashamed about it. Mostly because all of your shame and embarrassment are focused on other areas right now.

It had happened again. 

Is it just your luck? You don’t know whether to dub it as rotten luck, because you feel it would be a bit of an insult to the boxers you’d once more found in a suggestive situation.  But considering it good luck feels kind of sleazy, because although you’re embarrassed as hell, all things considered what you walked in on wasn’t a bad view—

No, that thought is stopping there. Any further and you’ll only incriminate yourself and you’ll have to dose yourself with another fresh shot of shame. 

Realising that you still haven’t answered the concerned-looking boy sprawled in the chair to your side, you offer him a non-committal grunt. It’s the best you can do while you take another moment to form actual coherent thought. 

“I’ve never been better,” you say, and immediately Jungkook lets loose an abrupt snort.

“You look like shit, so don’t bother trying to lie. Are you having trouble sleeping again or something?”

You survey him for a moment, touched that he remembers the insomnia that had ailed you for a few months a while back. “Actually, I’ve been sleeping pretty good the past few months.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, making you squint at him in question. “Oh, I’ll bet you have, considering the things you were saying in your sleep last time I stayed over.”

You simply look at him, wondering whether he’s going to be an ass and continue.  You don’t have to wait long for an answer.

“You were all like, ‘nngh, Namjoon,’ and ‘oh, Yoongi’, and then you said something about Hoseok too but I can’t quite remember, probably because it was so x-rated that my poor baby brain banished it from my memory—”

“Jungkook,” you cut him off, gripping the plastic spoon that came with your drink painfully tight. “Shut up.”

This is most definitely not the conversation to be having in the café barely a block away from the boxing gym where the two of you frequent, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to get the hint. Actually, you’re pretty sure he got the hint and he just doesn’t care enough to heed it.

“You really ought to do something about that crush of yours, bro. There’s three of them, so there’s three times the misery if you sit on your ass instead of—”

“Jungkook,” you attempt to warn him again, glaring slightly this time. You’ve scooped some of the whipped cream off of his plate of pancakes and hold the tip of the spoon back, threatening to fling it at him should he keep talking. 

“—doing something, you know? I’ve seen them practically undress you with their eyes enough times by now that I could fill out a diary with all the incidents I’ve witnessed. Plus, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed how often they ‘hurt’ themselves as an excuse to see you? I really don’t think you have much to lose, especially with an ass like yours—well, it’s nothing like the cake I’m serving, but still, it deserves some praise—ACK!”

Ah, so he has chosen death.

You discard the now-empty spoon onto a napkin, taking a long sip of your drink. It seems Jungkook has engaged his ape brain more today than usual as instead of wiping the cream off his face like any normal human would, he’s attempting to reach it with his tongue. His chances aren’t good, to be honest; though you reckon your mutual friend Jimin would be able to get it from that distance. Dude has a tongue like a lizard. 

“You have Seven Days,” you tell him, struggling not to let a smile through as the amateur boxer whines, unable to reach the cream.

“You have seven days,” he grumbles sulkily, reaching with a begrudging hand for a napkin. “Do something or I’ll expose your ass.”

You roll your eyes, ninety-nine percent sure that he’s kidding.

… 

That other one percent worries you a bit though.

x – x – x 

You take back what you decided earlier— something is definitely wrong with your luck.

“And how did you hurt your knee again?”

“I tripped on the stairs.”

Jung Hoseok, the club’s current star welterweight boxer, sits before you in your little medical office. There aren’t any matches on today, but you’re on shift because the club members are doing some of the more rigorous training; there is an important few matches coming up for a few members, and they all want to be as prepared as possible. As tends to be the occupational hazard, training can often lead to injuries that need to be immediately attended to. 

You can’t say, though, that this is the type you were expecting when you rocked up today.

Hoseok is beaming at you, all sincerity and sparkles. There’s a slight bit of dark regrowth in his hair that catches your eye as you survey him, the crimson ends sticking to his forehead lightly from sweat. He looks every bit earnest and honest as he sits in front of you, but you can’t help but suspect him just slightly.

Because you’re not sure any of the club members have ever made their way to your office for a graze that wouldn’t even phase a kindergartener.

“Well,” you say, trying to ignore what Jungkook had said barely a day or two ago that floats back into your head now. “The good news is, it’s not fatal.”

Hoseok lets out a great, dramatic huff in relief. “Oh, thank god. I was so scared this might have been the end.”

‘Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed how often they ‘hurt’ themselves as an excuse to see you?’

Is that what this is? An excuse to see you? A look spared for the man before you leads you to conclude: probably not. He’s a little too radiant to be seeking out lil’ ol’ you.

“Not this time,” you say, rummaging through your small box of mismatched bandages. Finding what you’re looking for, you turn back around and begin preparing it to place it on Hoseok’s knee. “You live to see another day.”

Hoseok shifts like he’s about to say something in response, but cuts himself off with a surprised laugh when he sees the band-aid you put on him. “Wh—you have Minions band-aids?!”

“I reserve them for special patients,” you say before you can stop yourself, promptly clamping your mouth shut a little too late. Your cheeks… you just hope the heat gathering there isn’t obvious.

Something shifts in Hoseok’s gaze as he surveys you for a moment, before hopping from the bed, testing his knee out like he’d sprained it instead of scratching it. The look is gone before you can fully decipher it and he’s back to grinning brightly once more. 

“Well, if that’s the case, I’ll have to come back often. Wouldn’t want them to go to waste.” Hoseok’s smile adopts a slightly cheeky edge as he makes his way to the door, lifting two fingers to his temple in a lazy salute. “See you later, doc!”

Then he’s gone before you can return the farewell, door closing definitively behind him and leaving the room in silence. 

Are you going crazy, or did Hoseok— one of the three boxers you’ve happened to walk in on twice now—just return your light flirting?

… God, you hope it wasn’t because of the minion band-aid.

x – x – x 

You wish that visit had been an isolated incident, but you had a repeat of it at least twice a week. Each time Hoseok would rock up grinning at your door with some other minor injury, all but demanding a minion band-aid for his troubles. You gave it to him, of course, but you still hope he doesn’t remember you as the minion band-aids guy. 

Surprisingly enough, it isn’t only Hoseok that has been cropping up more often in your day-to-day. You’ve had a few surprise encounters with Yoongi, who lately has taken to giving you a sly, unreadable look before turning away, leaving you in your own confusion. Sometimes you’ll get carried away watching him or one of the other boxers practice, and before you know it he has caught you staring red-handed and you’re forced to flee the room to escape the smug, intrigued look that slips into his eyes. 

It’s after such an occasion that you find yourself in the main locker room, attempting to multitask by looking for a box of first aid supplies hidden in the top shelves and giving your face a chance to cool down. It’s taken you so long to even find the damn box that your embarrassment has all but evaporated by now. By the time your eyes lock onto the scuffed white box peeking over the edge of the highest shelf in the corner of the room, you’re more than ready to snatch it down and escape back to the comfort of your dingy little office. 

Of course, it couldn’t ever be so easy for you. Not given your recent string of poor luck. 

You don’t consider your height to be remarkably anything, and normally you don’t have that much trouble reaching the cookie jar on the top shelf in your apartment but for some reason the shelves in this building are built to cater to giants, and try as you might you simply cannot reach. You’re literally about to abandon the last of your dignity and attempt jumping for it, when there is a light scuff on the floor from behind you and then a firm warmth pressing into your back. 

In all honesty, your brain short-circuits. For a second you think you might have even blacked out, because it takes at least three seconds for you to realise what is happening, and by that time the figure has already retreated back from your form. 

Somewhat dazed, you turn around to see one Kim Namjoon, the clubs leading middleweight champion and the third and final member of those racy scenarios you happened to walk in on oh-so long ago. In his hands is the box you’d been struggling so much to reach, and on his face is a look that somehow blends sheepishness and amusement into one attractive cocktail on his features. 

“Here you go,” he says, and for a shamefully long moment all you can do is stand and soak in the lovely timbre of his voice. By the time you snap out of it, a small smile has begun to curl on his lips. You pointedly avoid looking at the dimples that are beginning to show as a result. 

“Oh, uh, thanks,” you say, trying to make it as natural as possible as you reach and take the box from his hold. “Whoever put it up there seems to have a vendetta against me.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” he says, and there’s suddenly something a little secretive about the way he’s smiling. It makes you suspicious, and once more the words Jungkook prattled into your ear a week or so ago come rattling back into your brain. 

Is this something similar to what Hoseok had done? Did Namjoon put the box on a higher shelf?

“Are you calling me short?” For some reason, that’s what comes out of your mouth. There is a slight disconnect from what you said and what Namjoon had said previously, but he seems to make the connection. He tilts his head back and a rich laugh tumbles forth. It sounds nicer than you wish to admit to yourself. 

“Never,” he finally answers, grinning. “Though, feel free to come get me next time you lose against a shelf.”

Your mouth drops open in affront, but he makes a departure too quick for you to respond. His laughter echoes down the halls and you’re left reeling in your spot.

This isn’t what you expected to happen after walking in on a few intimate situations. In fact, this is quite the opposite.

What is happening?

x – x – x 

As the weeks go by, there are several big nights and several big matches. Hoseok and Yoongi, among a few others from the gym, emerge victorious. At this point you’re not too ashamed to say that you spent the entirety of their matches watching the way their muscles rippled as they dodged, swung and wove around the ring. If the last shred of dignity still clinging to you had disappeared, then you probably would have drooled like a dog. 

 The nights tend to go by weight classes, and the next upcoming night is to showcase the middleweight boxers. While Jungkook classifies for the class, as one of the newer recruits he isn’t the first choice for the match—much to his dismay.

It is approximately a week before this big match, in which Namjoon, one of the three men who live in your head rent-free these days, is participating, that you’re woken from your sleep and called into the gym.

It’s your night off, actually, so for you to be called in there must have been a pretty serious injury. You’re proven right when you enter the building and walk into the main room.

Before you can even assess the scene, Yoongi spots you and darts on over. He has a look on his face that you don’t think he’s ever sported before, and it fills you with a feeling of dread. It seems an appropriate feeling, considering what you see when you advance further into the room, towed by the frantic blonde who’d fetched you.

“Holy shit, what the hell happened?!” You dart forward, Yoongi’s grip slipping from your wrist as you move out of his reach. 

Namjoon is seated on the floor in a squat, cradling his left hand to his chest. A grimace twists his features, eyes glistening but face clear of tears. 

To your complete and utter surprise, the familiar tenor of Jungkook’s voice reaches your ears. You didn’t know he had stayed behind to practice tonight.

“We were leaving after practicing a bit later than normal, and some assholes drove past and picked a fight. I think—I think they were members from one of the rival clubs on the other side of the city but it was kind of dark and I didn’t get a good look.”

Your brows shoot up—that’s risky behaviour on their part, if it was actually members of a rival club that did this. Judges of this particular tournament don’t look kindly on foul play.

It would make sense if it’s true, though; a lot of local clubs tend to have boxers in the middleweight range, and Namjoon has emerged from enough matches victorious that he’s actually quite a threat. 

“Let me see,” you say, holding your hands out to Namjoon for him to rest his injured one in your hold. “Jungkook, go get the big tin box with the red cross from my office. Make sure it’s the one with antiseptic and bandages.”

You don’t even need to check he’s listened, because you can hear the frantic, obedient pattering of his feet fading away in the distance as you unwrap the blood-drenched towel from the hand in your hold. Namjoon’s busted up limb takes all of your attention the second you lay eyes on it properly, your stomach filling with an unpleasant, nameless cocktail of sensations. 

“Holy shit,” you say, unable to contain your wince.  “Tell me you didn’t get this from fighting them bare-knuckle.”

Namjoon has enough capacity for humour right now that he lets out a little huff. Yoongi fills you in before Namjoon has a chance. 

“No, though I almost did.” His expression is dark, the heat of his anger reaching you even when it’s not directed your way. “They were probably drinking before coming here, since they had a few bottles they threw into the mix.”

That explains the gashes you’re seeing on Namjoon’s palm— it seems he caught one of the bottles, though you’re not sure whether it was already broken or whether it broke on impact. Thankfully, from what you can see, the gashes and lacerations aren’t too deep and shouldn’t cause lasting damage, but they’ll definitely take a while to heal, and one or two of them look like they will need stitches. 

“Alright,” you begin, sighing softly. “I’ll do what I can to fix this up for now, but you’re going to have to go to the ER, because some of these will need stitches…”

You look up, reading the expressions of everyone in attendance and knowing that they have all reached the same conclusion regarding Namjoon’s immediate fate as a boxer.

“Sorry, Namjoon,” you start, watching his features crumble ever so slightly into a look of resignation. “This isn’t going to heal in time for next week, and you definitely won’t be able to train for a while.”

It’s just as you announce that, that Jungkook returns with your box of first-aid goodies. Hoseok, who has remained surprisingly silent the whole time this conversation has gone on, takes the box from his hold and delivers it next to you. Surprising all of you, Namjoon is quick to look up and pin Jungkook with a grin.

“Well, since I can’t participate—how do you feel about making your Big Boy Boxing Debut, Jungkookie?”

Your friend is rooted to the spot in shock for a solid few moments, before he snaps out of it and an excited if slightly nervous expression filters onto his face. 

“I will defend your honour, Namjoon!” he declares, saluting stupidly. “Count on me!”

Cheesy of him, but you can’t help the smile that tugs your lips. You just hope it’s not too late-notice for him, and that Namjoon’s injuries really aren’t that serious, as you surmise.

x – x – x 

 The week passes quicker than you anticipate, and before you know it, it’s the night of the big match—Jungkook’s first big match, that is. Namjoon had done his best over the days to coach Jungkook on the particular fighting styles of the opponents he normally faces, and to everyone’s pleasant surprise, Jungkook has picked it all up with ease. 

You’re more surprised to say that you’re not even that nervous, as you sit waiting for the match to begin. Jungkook stands in one corner, his opponent from one of the more renowned rival gyms in the other. You prepare to be on standby in case either boxer is injured enough to need aid, but cross your fingers that if anything at least Jungkook will be alright. 

In the blink of an eye, the match begins and the first bout kicks off. Jungkook’s opponent is slightly stockier, likely pushing the upper limits of the weight class, and is the first to make an offensive move. The familiar sound of cushioned gloves making impact rings in the air and you find yourself tensing in your seat as you watch the two interchange blows. 

It’s pretty much neck-and-neck for a majority of the bouts. Some of them go quick, and others seem to consist of the longest three minutes of your life. Still, the match goes on, and the night is filled with the siren song of the crowd and the ring of the bell.

After a night of close-call bouts and baited breath, Jungkook finally emerges victorious. 

Ever the fan favourite, the crowd that has amassed erupt into cheers as the referee declares the end of the final bout and Jungkook is held up as the victor. With the match decided, the club members that had been watching ringside burst up and swarm around the young boxer who brought pride to the gym on his very first big match. The three boxers that usually occupy your thoughts wriggle their way up there too, and it’s Hoseok’s bright tone that pierces the ruckus of the crowd.

“Drinks at ours to celebrate our victor, Jungkookie!” he caws, rubbing Jungkook on the back in something akin to pride. “Members of King Hit Gym, we better see you all there!”

You mightn’t be a technical member, but the way you suddenly feel three sets of eyes on you tells you that you’re still more than invited. 

x – x – x

It’s three hours since the end of the match, and you’re more than a little tipsy.

You can safely say that you haven’t ever been to the house where Namjoon, Hoseok and Yoongi live, but you’re nothing short of impressed. It’s a three-storey townhouse, with three rooms— presumably one for each of them, though from what you’d glimpsed on the way to the bathroom earlier only one of them appears regularly lived in.

It didn’t take you long to ponder exactly why, considering the things you’ve accidentally witnessed in the past month.

Most of your time tonight was spent celebrating with Jungkook as he made the rounds and received congratulations from the rest of the club members. Music thrums through the building, bass vibrating pleasantly through your chest every time you pass the expensive speakers in the living room.

You’ve paced yourself well, all things considered. All you had to do to avoid an early night ending in blackout drunkenness was steer clear of Jungkook whenever he made his way by the kitchen to refill— he’d learnt his mixing skills from Jimin, a verified alcoholic back in the day who spent his time in university trying to throw together his own signature cocktail with the same alcohol percentage as absinthe.

So you’re relatively proud of yourself to only be a little over tipsy at this point in the night. You can’t really say the same for the rest of the club members, though— even Jungkook has reached a point where he is stumbling and giggling. Which, of course, led to the event that splattered drink all over your shirt. 

You’re wandering up the stairs now, mind occupied with everything but what you’re doing as you absentmindedly seek the bathroom to clean your shirt. You haven’t seen any of the homeowners in a while, actually, which is kind of disappointing because you’re really longing for some eye candy right about now. They disappeared about ten minutes ago, and you figured it was just to socialise or maybe grab more snacks but you haven’t paid it much thought since then, and now you’re realising they hadn’t returned to the party yet. 

Reaching the top of the stairs, you pause for a moment to try and recall which room is the bathroom. There’s two of them, you remember being told, one ensuite and a main bathroom. There was also a third one on the first floor, but that was too far for you to attempt reaching it. Unable to remember which door is which, you simply decide to wing it and march on forward towards the first door to enter your line of sight. You’re pretty stable, but your head is kind of fuzzy, so your hand hovers by the wall as you walk just in case you stumble. 

Upon reaching the door in question, it takes you about a second and a half to realise the room you have reached is not the one you want, and another second for the shock to reach you.

Because, for the third time in a month, you have walked in on something you shouldn’t have. 

Except this time, you can’t seem to pull yourself away as fast as you should. 

It’s Hoseok and Namjoon tangled before you this time, in a position much more intimate than the last you’d seen. Their lips are locked, Hoseok straddling one of Namjoon’s thighs with one hand tangled in inky locks and the other rubbing over his crotch, where a prominent bulge makes itself known even to your eyes. Just when you remember that you should really be on your way, their lips break apart and Namjoon’s head tilts back, a sinful, velvet moan climbing from his throat as Hoseok leans to pepper it with kisses. It’s mesmerising, and you forget you’re even there as you watch the red-haired man’s hand climb up Namjoon’s stomach and then slip beneath the waistband of his jeans. 

You come back to yourself when you feel a familiar tightness in your own pants and a throb between your legs— of course, you’re hard. You’re too hazy-brained to even be ashamed of it right now. It does pierce through the fog, though, that you’re intruding on something you’re not meant to see. Like you’re trying to move limbs filled with lead, you start to drag your feet and turn around. 

You barely get a step in before you’re face to face with someone strikingly familiar, and your heart drops in your chest before kicking back into motion at double speed. 

“You always seem to enjoy watching, don’t you?” Yoongi’s question catches you off guard and puts you on the spot— before you can panic, though, his lips curl in a kittenish smile. “It’s alright, we already know you do, baby boy.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, stomach flipping giddily. Your eyes track it with surprising clarity as Yoongi’s hand— strong and sculpted and deliciously vascular, as you’d admired many times before— rises to caress your cheek, and he leans forward until his lips brush the sensitive skin of your earlobe.

“Why don’t you join us, this time?”

You find yourself nodding before you even realise it, but it’s definitely a decision you would make again any other day. 

You feel Yoongi smile against your ear, and then he is pressing a soft kiss to your cheek and pulling back. That same strong hand winds around your wrist and you’re tugged into the room, the door shutting behind you. The two on the bed barely bat an eye at the arrival of their third lover and an extra figure, merely smiling dazedly at the two of you. 

“Baby boy is finally gonna join us?” Hoseok asks, eyes lidded and dark to match the tousled look of his hair and clothes. His words are slightly slurred but the keenness to his gaze tells you he is still very much aware of everything he does. 

Yoongi hums in confirmation, coming up behind you to wind his arms lazily around your waist and rest his chin on your shoulder. “Mhmm. Don’t stop on our account— why don’t you give him a bit of a show to start, hm?”

Hoseok needs no further prompting, a grin all you glimpse before he is diving back to crash his lips into Namjoon’s, hand moving inside his pants and eliciting a deep, throaty groan. It makes your own cock throb in need, and almost as though he reads your mind, Yoongi's voice sounds in your ear once more. 

“You already hard, baby boy? Like what you see?”

Something about the husky quality of the boxer’s voice makes a shudder roll down your spine, a light whine slipping from your throat. Yoongi presses soft kisses to the skin of your neck as you watch the two on the bed undress each other between heated kisses. 

“Want me to touch you, baby boy?”

As though possessed, your head begins nodding before you even think to act on the urge. Yoongi requires no further prompting; he begins to kiss and suckle along the column of your neck while his hands move— one creeps up beneath your shirt to flick a thumb over your nipple, and the other slips down, down, down beneath the waistband of your pants and boxers, until that hand you admire so much is slipping around your cock and squeezing just enough to make you gasp out a moan. 

Pleasure and desire wind together to mix with the tipsy haze in your mind, and you’re more than happy to surrender yourself to the current situation. Slowly, you’re urged over to the bed, eyes still locked on the pair occupied there as Yoongi’s hand works magic on your length. You don’t even bother attempting to stem the gasps and moans tumbling forth because you know at this point it would probably be futile. 

Hoseok has now stripped Namjoon entirely and is making his way down his body with his mouth, pressing a kiss against every inch of golden skin he can reach. Namjoon is quite generously endowed, and you can’t tear your eyes away as Hoseok finally reaches the apex of his thighs and begins to lavish attention to Namjoon’s flushed cock. 

You can feel Yoongi grinding lightly against you as he strokes your own aching member, the two of you observing the show before you with rapt attention. At some point you’re rid of your shirt and the air feels cool against your flushed skin, your upper body leaning back against Yoongi contentedly. The noises spilling from Namjoon’s throat are downright sinful as Hoseok’s mouth sinks down on him with practiced ease.

It’s almost too much for you, really. Almost sensory overload. You’re urged ever so slowly to the bed, and as you sit on the plush mattress you happily oblige as Yoongi begins to undo and remove the jeans that are now uncomfortably tight. Your boxers follow soon after and then you’re joining the other two in their nudity. As though sensing the change in plans, Hoseok pulls off of Namjoon’s cock with a ‘pop’, licking his lips and ignoring the whine in protest that Namjoon lets out. “In a minute, bubs.”

Yoongi leans over to the bedside table to retrieve lube and something else you soon realise to be condoms as he tosses them on the bed between him and Hoseok. 

“Are you alright with this?”

You turn at the sound of Yoongi’s voice, eyes meeting his own— though heady and full of desire, they’re also determined. You don’t doubt that if you say no, he will stop things here.

“Yes,” you confirm, and you watch as a smile pulls over Yoongi’s face.

“Excellent. Now, lean forward, baby boy. This might be a little cold.”

Without question, you allow him to shift and bend your body as needed, knees digging into the plush bedding. Tilting your head up, you manage to meet the eyes of Namjoon, who is in a similar position to yourself, just in time for you to gasp at the sudden cold sensation at your ass. 

You’d think by now you would be used to the feeling of lube— you’re immediately distracted from that though at the sensation of Yoongi’s finger beginning to toy around your asshole. You allow yourself to relax as much as possible, turning your attention to Namjoon and Hoseok and simply enjoying the sensations Yoongi is eliciting. 

Namjoon’s hand raises, cupping your cheek and dragging down ever so gently. Hoseok catches the movement and lets out a coo, eyes boring into your own. 

“Wanna kiss him, baby boy? Go ahead, he’s good at it.”

You don’t need to be told twice, and neither does Namjoon. You find Hoseok definitely isn’t wrong as Namjoon’s lips meet your own, the kiss quickly turning heated as his mouth moves against your own. He swallows down your moans as Yoongi’s fingers begin to stretch you slowly, one by one.

You lose so much time in the hypnotic motion of bodies against your own that before you know it there is a gentle yet firm hand against your shoulder pulling you back from the man before you. 

“Ready, baby?”

You nod, and soon after hear the familiar tear of foil before the head of Yoongi’s cock is pressing against your hole. You take a deep breath in, allowing your eyes to flutter closed as he begins to press himself in and stretch you open bit by bit. The burn isn’t particularly painful tonight, and to be honest sometimes you’re partial to the sensation. 

By the time Yoongi is fully seated within you, you’re almost panting, soft moans escaping unwittingly. Through the fog of pleasure currently addling your brain, you hear similar noises in front of you and realise Namjoon must be in a similar state. Unconsciously, your hand stretches out, seeking contact, and manages to entwine with the large, warm one you identify as Namjoon’s good hand. 

As soon as Yoongi receives the green light from you, he begins to move. The sensations of him dragging against your walls are enough to almost drive you mad, especially at the slow pace he’s set. It isn’t long before he picks up though, and soon rough the slap of his hips against your ass is one of the many sinful noises echoing in the room, muffled by the loud music still booming beyond the bedroom walls. 

“O-oh, fuck,” you moan, barely coherent enough to respond to Namjoon’s seeking lips. Absently, you hear Yoongi’s soft groans and low murmured praises, and it makes your heart skip a beat. 

“Good boy,” he all but purrs, hand caressing down your spine before finding purchase at your hips. 

Time blurs and you’re wound so tight that it isn’t long before you feel yourself approaching that edge, your hand lowering to begin stroking your own cock again in an effort to reach your high faster. It’s one deep stroke that hits you in all the right places that is your undoing, and with a cry you’re cumming hard, spots appearing behind your eyes. 

The sudden tightness around his cock has Yoongi stilling, a low, drawn out groan sounding from his throat as he joins you in your high, throbbing inside you. Your arms are a little too weak to continue holding you, but he seems to be in tune enough that he notices and his own slip around you, easing you into his embrace as he adjusts on the mattress and hums into your skin. 

Namjoon and Hoseok aren’t far behind you, the two of them reaching their own end not long after. Namjoon flops against the bed, spent and Hoseok hops up to retrieve a bin and some wipes to clean up a bit before he too flops across the mattress, smacking Namjoon’s ass as he does and eliciting a brief whine in protest. 

“Well fuck,” you hum, staring absently at the ceiling. Yoongi snorts, pulling you closer, and like they all share a hive mind you’re very suddenly in the middle of a cuddle pile as the other two join in. 

“Beats just watching, doesn’t it?” One of them queries, probably Hoseok— you’re too tired to really discern it. 

“Mhm,” you respond, basking in content. “Four’s company, I suppose.”

There are a few hums of agreement, and then comfortable silence falls over the room. You find yourself smiling as you sink into the most content sleep you’ve had in a while, in the arms of the three boxers who have nestled their way into your heart one by one 

[maruscheese]

“I wanna kiss your lips”

songfic ft. katsuki bakugou because I can’t stop playing i wanna be your girlfriend by girl in red 

pairing: katsuki bakugou x reader ( tried to make it gn T~T ) wc: 2.7k 

you wanted to punch him in the face more than anything.

seriously. how clueless could he be?

for someone who flaunted his brains so much, katsuki bakugou could be pretty damn clueless sometimes. well, not just sometimes. all the time. at least when it came to your feelings.

it’s true, the blonde could care less about other people’s feelings, but how could he not notice when absolutely everyone else around him did?

the way you twirled your hair around your finger out of habit every time he talked to you, or the intense pink tint your cheeks would acquire. the way your witty comebacks and sharp tongue went out of service whenever he teased you, as if he just made your brain cells shut off. 

still, despite all these short-circuit effects he had on you, you still felt comfortable around him. like you could be yourself.

you had first realized this a few months back, when, while chatting with a certain pink girl, you found yourself navigating your way to the blonde and the rest of his friends.

ashido sat with them, looking at you expectantly as she pat the empty space next to her, and you took a seat next to her.

you sat stiffly next to your friend, feeling awkward as the light-hearted conversation flowed between the group of friends while you just listened and stared at your hands, firmly placed on your lap. 

it’s not like you were a quiet or shy person, quite the contrary, but jumping into a conversation you hadn’t been explicitly invited to just wasn’t something proper of you. you were a loudmouth, but only if you felt comfortable enough to be one. 

“oi, you,” the blonde said without bothering to look up from his meal, and you raised your gaze to search for him with your eyes, figuring he was talking to you, since all his other friends had a designated nickname. 

the group fell quiet and you quirked a brow and looked at him, “me?” you asked lowly, gaze fixed in his crimson orbs, which he rolled in annoyance. 

“who else would i be talking to, dumbass?” he questioned in return, turning to look at you. you shot an unamused look at him, raising both brows now and letting out a soft chuckle.

“oh, i don’t know, maybe one of the other four people sitting with us? and you call me a dumbass.” you replied with a smug grin, muttering that last part, but still enough for him to hear.

“you wanna fucking go?” he groaned and stood up from his seat, tiny sparks erupting from his fingertips. 

“i don’t partake in animal abuse, sorry,” you responded with a shrug, smug grin only widening, your response earning a few giggles from the rest of the squad.

“shut it, you fucking extras!” bakugou roared, clearly about to lose it, until the bell rang, indicating the end of your lunch break. 

a long silence followed, just you and him staring directly into each other’s eyes as the rest backed away carefully, as if standing on thin ice that could crack any second now.

“saved by the fucking bell, but this isn’t over, you hear me?” he warned, and you shrugged dismissively and started walking away.

and so, after that day, your invitations to spend lunch break with them only kept coming, and soon, it became an everyday thing until you found yourself spending as much of your free time as you possibly could with them. 

tension between bakugou and you lessened, and you found yourselves actually enjoying each other’s company, though neither of you would ever admit that. 

“oi, idiot, where’s your food?” the familiar raspy voice asked, making you pause your intense conversation with hanta to turn to look at him.

“huh? oh, i didn’t even realize.. i must’ve forgotten to bring it again.” you admitted, scratching the back of your head sheepishly. 

“again?” he asked, slightly cocking his head to the side as he shot a confused look your way.

“yeah, i can be quite forgetful sometimes..” you said with an embarrassed chuckle, but quickly going back to your usual intense self. “but it’s okay cause i had a shitload of food before coming here!” you said with a grin, a hand on your hip, the other one showing him a thumbs up. 

katsuki frowned and smacked the back of your head, before poking aggressively at a piece of meat in his lunch box. 

“ow, shit! what the hell was that fo-” you were about to complain about the smack before you were interrupted by a fork being shoved into your mouth. 

“we’re going to train today and i’m finally gonna get my chance to beat your ass, so i can’t have your weak ass fainting on me today.” he said, pushing your chin up and making your lips wrap around the fork, sliding it out carefully when your lips sealed against it, pulling the food off of it.

your friends stared in astonishment, and as your brain processed what had just happened, your face turned a dark shade of red. you turned away, chewing aggressively on the food and swallowing it harshly. 

of course, bakugou failed to register the effect of his actions until ashido and hanta turned to look at him with huge, teasing grins on their faces and wiggling eyebrows, which caused his face to match the color of yours. 

“fuck! wait! it’s not like that, you bunch of idiots!” he defended, still the intense blush on his face and the shakiness of his voice betrayed him, and the pair began to giggle.

before that, never once had you thought of katsuki bakugou as more than a mere friend, but now, sitting next to him made something in your insides stir, and your stomach felt an overwhelming amount of different sensations at the same time, from butterflies, to a rollercoaster, to what could be compared to the violent churning of an old washing machine as you internally screamed.

“i can’t believe the exams are coming up, i’m gonna be so drained from all that studying.. it’s probably gonna fry my brain..” ashido whined, and bakugou chuckled.

“you can’t fry what you don’t have, pinky.” the blonde said, and mina turned to glare at him. 

“if i were you, i’d shut up, explodo. may i remind you, i’ve been informed of your huge crush on--” bakugou eyes widened and he slapped a hand over ashido’s mouth, to which she let out a muffled giggle.

“shut the hell up, dumbass! are you trying to get on my bad side or something?” 

mina shook her head and pulled away from his hand, showing him a teasing grin.

“i’d only use that as a last option, you should know that. I’d much rather see you confess to them.” she stated.

“katsuki has a crush?” you asked with a raising a brow, your gaze shifting between bakugou’s flustered face and ashido’s clearly satisfied expression. 

“yeah, but it doesn’t surprise me you didn’t know about it,” she said, and you looked at bakugou.

him? with a crush?

for some reason, your chest ached at the thought.

“yeah, well, good luck with that, boom boy,” you shrugged and looked away from him, directing your attention at your empty lunch box.

“the hell is that supposed to mean?” he snapped, and you just replied with another shrug, the intrusive thoughts of bakugou with someone else killing your mood in seconds.

the group fell silent, until ashido spoke up.

“erm, anyways, as i was saying! i figured since we’re going to be spending so much time studying before exams, we’re hardly going to spend any time together aside from lunch breaks��� so, i thought we could go out tonight!” she suggested, and the grim mood seemed to vanish as you started agreeing with her one by one, each in their own way, some excitedly, and another certain blonde clicking his tongue and shrugging.

eventually, you settled for a karaoke night.

you were all supposed to meet there around 7 pm, giving you just enough time to have a quick shower, a meal, and get ready. 

picking your best outfit, fixing your hair, and spraying on some perfume, you added the finishing touches and stared at your reflection, smiling slightly before heading out.

at the karaoke were kirishima and ashido, sitting on a table in the corner, chatting lively, and kaminari and hanta seemingly playing video games on their phones, while bakugou stared at his phone screen with a straight face, dragging his thumb across the screen every so often.

you approached your friends with a smile, waving at them with a smile and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“(y/n)! you made it!” ashido beamed at you and rose from her seat, wrapping her arms around you.

you took a seat in the corner of the table, which you found a lot more comfortable, in case your friends resumed their conversation from before and brought up bakugou’s crush, and you decided you wanted to get the hell out of there.

sure, it might be an immature reaction, and you should be happy for your friend possibly finding happiness, but damn, even the thought of you facing that as a reality hurt worse than a punch to your gut.

time flew by, conversation quickly initiating with your friends, with topics that were all over the place, but thankfully, none of those were bakugou’s crush. 

soon, you found yourself giggling uncontrollably as your friends, who mind you, were drunk off their asses, invaded the karaoke’s stage, singing cheesy romance pop songs, apparently entirely tone deaf.

you and bakugou were the only ones who had remained seated in all that time, despite the numerous times your friends pointed at you and gestured for you guys to join them, to which you replied with a small smile and shaking your head, while bakugou flipped them off, still apparently unamused by their over the top behavior.  

ashido soon came to squeeze your hand, teary-eyed, cheeks flushed, and wobbling, begging for you to join her on the stage. 

“oh, no, i don’t know those songs,” you lied, trying to get her to stop insisting, but to no avail, as she kept whining and poking your sides and your face.

“c’mon, don’t be like that, we came here to have fun and both of you are being some major party poopers!” she scolded, pointing at you and bakugou.

“leave her alone, pinky, she’s probably just too scared to do anything,” bakugou said, expecting you to go all out on her, but instead, it hit you like a slap across the face.

‘too scared to do anything’ you thought, his words repeating themselves in your head over and over again, until you stood up and took the microphone from ashido’s hand, determinedly stomping your way to the stage.

you finally understood.

you understood why you were so pissed.

why even the slightest mention of that made you want to run away.

even bakugou katsuki could come to terms with his feelings. with having a crush. and what did you do about it?

nothing.

you were too afraid of doing anything about it that you forced yourself to be oblivious to your own feelings, burying them deep within you.

you forced yourself to ignore why you felt like this.

you had the biggest crush on bakugou fucking katsuki.

and so, as you stood on the stage and the music began playing, you could only stare at him.

I wanna feel you close

Come lie with my bones

you closed your eyes as you sang, silently praying that, even if you weren’t looking directly at him, he’d still get it.

‘too scared to do anything’ you heard him say again in your head, and you shot your eyes open, pointing at him as the chorus began.

“i don’t wanna be your friend, i wanna kiss your lips!” you sang loudly, passionately, pouring all those emotions you had been bottling up for so long into the lyrics, cheeks burning up as you confessed to him. 

the hand pointing at him suddenly made its way to your chest, grabbing a fistful of your shirt as your brows furrowed and the look in your eyes intensified.

“i wanna kiss you until i lose my breath!” you nearly screamed, cheeks getting hotter and redder by the second, your knees close to giving up on you as you looked into his eyes, shock written all over his face as realization slowly hit him and his cheeks gained a pink tint. 

it was as if, in that very moment, the rest of the world had vanished, and it was only you and him in that karaoke, in the middle of a confession you desperately wished he’d accept. 

the blonde rose from his seat and looked at his friends for a moment, all of them giving them reassuring nods, and his gaze fell back on you, still looking intensely at him. 

subconsciously, he mimicked your actions from that first time you two interacted, slowly raising an index finger to point at himself, mouthing “me?”.

you giggled and nodded, “who else would i be talking to, dumbass?” you answered, earning a chuckle from him as he slowly approached the stage.

you stared into each other’s eyes as he made his way to you, the song long forgotten, now only playing in the background, contributing to the situation and making this much more movie-like.

tell me something nice

like flowers and blue skies

he got up on the stage with you, and for some reason, having him right in front of you, towering over your figure, with an expression that you couldn’t quite figure out, made things much more intimidating now, and you could swear you’d die right then and there.

i will follow you home

although my lips are blue and i’m cold

“well then, what are you waiting for?” he asked with a smirk and you cocked your head in confusion.

i don’t wanna be your friend, i wanna kiss your lips

i wanna kiss you until i lose my breath

the chorus sang, reminding you of your initial bold confession, and you blushed.

“you better not be playing,” you warned him, and he just rolled his eyes, swiftly sliding his hand to the back of your head and leaning forward, crashing his lips against yours.

your eyes widened, and you could feel the way the people around you stared, but holy shit, this was just too good. his intoxicating scent, of delicious caramel, acted like sleeping gas, and you found yourself closing your eyes and melting into the kiss, pressing your body against his as your arms wrapped around his neck, tugging softly at his spiky hair.

you pulled back, barely able to breathe, not from the kiss, but from the way your heart threatened to pound its way out of your chest, and you looked up at those crimson eyes.

“i don’t wanna be your friend, i wanna be your bitch,” you sang against his lips and grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him in for another kiss, which he gladly gave in to.

lifting your leg to wrap it around his waist, bakugou smirked against your lips and firmly grabbed your thighs, lifting you off the ground and walking off the stage with you.

letting out a gasp, you pulled away and looked at him.

the look in your eyes

my hand between your thighs

“fuck...” you blurted out, still holding tightly onto his hair. your eyes scanned his face. You’d never seen him so attentively before, and so close, too. he was far too beautiful, even with that seemingly permanent scowl painted on his perfect features.

oh this can’t be real

it’s all just a dream

“you jealous little asshole. you couldn’t handle the thought of me having a crush on someone else, isn’t that right?” he teased, smirk drawn on his swollen lips.

“i’m starting to think i might’ve been jealous of myself all along,” you teased back, poking his cheek with your index finger.

i don’t wanna be your friend, i wanna kiss your lips

i wanna kiss you until i lose my breath

katsuki shrugged and pecked your lips one last time.

“yeah, maybe,”

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

Raise the Stakes, Part 8

I swear, I will wind this one up in the not-too-distant future but I keep kind of thinking of different things to do with it. Bad writer, bad. Finish your work!

You can find the previous bits of the story:

Place Your Bets

Part one two three four five six seven

Pairing: David Finlay x OFC (referenced Jay White x OFC)

Word count: 3,824

Content advisory: graphic sexual content, cursing

You feel like an idiot for actually believing that he was going to talk to you the next day, or that he was going to do anything other than ignore you the way he has since your arrival. If anything, he’s ignoring you harder than ever, or at least taking greater pains to be anywhere around you. If you see him, he’s always moving and with others. The wall between you is so thick you start gaslighting yourself, wondering if you imagined the tryst in your car.

The whole company is buzzing. It’s the last few days before the big Slammiversary show, the peak of their year. The excitement for the show and for finally having a small audience is mingled with the knowledge that every year, there are some surprises. THe bigwigs play their cards close to their chests, which means that the talent and behind the scenes people, yourself very much included, don’t know who could pop out at any moment. New Japan has been frustratingly tight-lipped. It’s supposed to be your job to bridge the gaps between New Japan and Impact but no one will tell you who might be trying to cross those bridges.

Is Nagata coming back? You’ll find out.

Another appearance by Phantasmo? Wait and see.

Tama and Tanga are mouthing off at the Good Brothers all the time on social media. Are they showing up?

It’s like shouting at a wall.

Finlay and Robinson are there, they tell you. Take care of them.

It’s almost more frustrating to hear that because, of course, you’d like to do that but one of them is very determined not to let that happen.

By Thursday afternoon, you’ve done everything you can.

“Take a day off,” Scott Damore, the man tasked with keeping this little beehive running tells you. “Go home and relax. You’ll want to be rested for Saturday.”

You want to tell him there’s no need for you to leave now but your aching back, neck, and head disagree.

“What time do you need me here Saturday?”

“Morning?” He looks surprised. “Just come in an hour or so before the show.”

“But what do you need me to do?”

“Sit in the audience, cheer at the right points, look excited if the camera passes you.”

“That’s it?”

“There’s nothing that needs to be liaised in the middle of a show. Grab a seat, have some fun. Be a fan for a few hours.”

You laugh a little because you can’t remember the last time you were able to just be a fan.

“You do like wrestling, don’t you?”

“I do,” you chuckle. “I just don’t really have the opportunity to indulge that very often.”

“So go home, have a nice dinner and a glass of wine. Do whatever it takes to get rid of that headache that I can see right through your skull. Spend the day in your pajamas playing videogames with teenagers online.”

You rise slowly, thanking him as you move to go.

“Hey,” he calls softly, “you’re doing a great job. Don’t think they’re not going to hear about it in Tokyo.”

It’s such a sweet note to leave on that you’re most of the way home, or to the temporary rental that’s passing for home right now, before you think about the fact that you haven’t laid eyes on David all day. He’s been around, because if he hadn’t been, you’re the one who would have had to field questions about it. But he’s been invisible to you.

You end up taking Scott’s suggestions very much to heart. You order dinner from the Chinese place you’ve become addicted to, watch early episodes of The Walking Dead, and have a couple of drinks until you can feel a warm blanket of sleepiness wrapping itself around you.

And that’s when your doorbell rings.

You grab your phone, although there’s a large part of you that wants to ignore it because it’s a little unnervingly late to be getting callers. But you pick it up just on that off chance, because there’s that sliver of hope that it’s…

“It’s David.” He sounds tired and grumpy but you don’t even care because he’s there, at your door and it makes your heart race. You buzz him in and then just stand in front of your apartment door like a complete idiot until you hear him knock.

As soon as you open the door, though, your heart sinks.

“Seriously?” he snaps, holding your panties up for anyone to see.

“How long does it take you to go through your damn pockets,” you hiss, trying to hide how close you are to crying.

“What the hell is wrong with you? You want me to get a restraining order?”

“I’m sorry,” you croak. “I know it was stupid, I just thought maybe if I left you a little reminder that… I don’t know. I thought that if I could get you back once…”

“You did not get me back. I’ve been lonely and I had a weak moment. And even then I couldn’t bring myself to fuck you.”

“Fine. I misinterpreted and thought it was me you wanted. Happy to have given you a show and a nice warm surface to rub one out.”

He throws your panties on the floor without another word. Now you have a problem. You know perfectly well that the second you let him out of your sight, he’s going to disappear. But the door to your apartment is going to lock automatically if it closes unless you step back inside and adjust it. So if you want to avoid giving him the chance to run away, you have to find a way to reach your discarded panties without allowing the door to close behind you.

Awkwardly, you bend forward but it’s immediately obvious that the offending garment is still out of reach. You try looking at him but he seems amused by your predicament. So you have to get right down on your knees and stretch, all while keeping your foot on the door, which weighs a ton. You’ve never felt less elegant in your life, nor more ridiculous than when you glare up at him. His expression is scornful and amused, but there’s a hint of something else you can see in his eyes. There you are, the bitch who he believes used him, the one who’s been begging for his attention, now on her knees in the most humiliating position.

You grab the scrap of fabric and scramble into a standing position before starting to speak. Unfortunately, you move enough that your foot slips from the door. You flinch as you hear the heavy thud.

“Fuck!” he yelps, loud enough you think the neighbors will show up.

It takes a second for you to register that he stuck his hand up to stop the door from closing and that the full weight of it crashed onto his fingers.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” It’s like every time he gets near you, something awful happens to him.

You push the door open and take his hand, trying to see if there’s any damage. He’s obviously irritated and tries to pull it back but it occurs to you that this could be serious.

“Come on, you have to at least let me put some ice on that.”

“No.”

“You have to. If it swells up, your hand could be screwed up for Saturday.”

He looks positively disgusted as it dawns on him that you’re right but he lets you lead him gently into your apartment.

You take out your ice tray and wrap a few cubes in the dish towel, pressing it softly against his hand. He swats you away and holds the makeshift ice pack himself. There’s a little grunted sound that might be a thank you.

“What even happened?”

“I thought the door was going to lock if it closed, I just tried to stop it. Don’t know why I did that.”

“Thank you,” you say softly, guilt soaking your voice. “I would have been locked out.”

“Boohoo.”

“I’m really sorry about the panties, I just-”

“You’re just a disaster area and I need to stay the fuck away from you. I should have just thrown your little present in your face at the show.”

“I’m so glad you didn’t.”

“I’m going to wait a few minutes until I’m sure my hand is ok. I would really appreciate it if you would just not speak for the rest of the time I’m here.”

The look on his face is so pained, so defeated, that you just nod and look at the floor. But you can’t hold it in. The insanity of the situation you’ve put yourself in and the feeling of having him close enough to touch while also being so remote burns through your insides like a wildfire and you just… break.

You let one loud yelp out and then it’s nothing but tears and loud sobbing. He immediately looks up at you and although your vision is blurred, his expression isn’t unsympathetic but that just makes it worse and you cry harder as you try to speak.

“You’re right, you should stay away from me… I thought that if I came here… I thought that if you knew I left him… that I left him for you…”

Your voice breaks up and you have to wipe your face just to keep yourself focused.

“I didn’t think about how bad I am… for you… for whatever… I just wanted…”

You break down in sobs again and you’re just about to go and hide on the balcony until he leaves when it happens. A miracle. He lays the towel on the counter and walks towards you. Even through your tears, you can see that his expression is much softer and that allows you to hold it together until he lays his hands on your shoulders and pulls you just a little closer.

At that point, once again, you lose it, the memory of how that touch felt back before you’d made a mess of everything. He presses you close to his chest, which amplifies the feeling and you feel like you’re going to pass out.

“Look at me,” he murmurs, cupping your face with his hand.

You open your eyes a little and he makes a face.

“You’re a mess.”

“I know,” you blurt. “I don’t know why I do the shit I do, it’s just-”

“No, I mean your face… there’s mascara stuff happening. It looks like an oil spill.”

Despite yourself, you laugh, holding back the tears as he uses his sleeve to wipe your face.

“Your hands are freezing.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t have another pair with me. Besides, it helps with swelling, remember?”

You laugh a little again, trembling when he holds your face in his hands. For the first time in ages, he doesn’t have any of that vicious resentment in his eyes. It’s almost like the way he looked at you that day you had breakfast in the cafe, just sadder.

He looks at you that way for what feels like a long time, allowing you to regain control of yourself.

“You have really cute ears.”

“Wh- what?”

He smiles. “Your ears. They’re so cute, you have no idea. You always have your hair pulled back or up and I just remember noticing at one point. I’d smile about it all the time when you weren’t looking.”

“How do ears… be cute?” You can’t imagine what he’s talking about and yet the weirdness of the compliment makes it wonderful.

“Come here.” He takes you by the wrist and leads you into the bathroom. He positions you in front of the mirror, standing behind you and pulling you back against his chest. He takes your jaw in his hand and gently turns your head so that you can see the side of your face and your apparently adorable ear.

“You see,” he explains, running his thumb delicately along the outer ridge, “it’s kind of big and round up here, and then it tapers right off into this perfectly proportional little lobe and it looks like a half a heart. So they look like two halves of a heart. I can’t believe you’ve never noticed this before.”

He laughs softly and presses his face against yours, the scrape of his beard on your skin sending shivers through your whole body. His lips touch your cheek so fleetingly that you almost wonder if you’ve imagined it.

“Crying takes it out of you,” he sighs. “Let’s put you to bed.”

You feel numb as he leads you into the bedroom and helps you onto the bed before turning to close your blinds.

“Do you like being back in the States?” you ask, hoping you can stretch out his visit a little longer.

“Yeah, I do. I mean, it’s weird, all the back and forth lately. I swear I think I’m still jet lagged, or I’m just permanently fucked up.”

You smile as he sits down on the side of the bed. He smiles back but he makes no move to touch you or get closer.

“How do you like Impact?”

“I like not working Japanese hours.”

“Damn, I’ll bet. It’s one thing with the wrestlers but they don’t give you guys a break ever.”

You suddenly realize that you don’t want to talk about your work in Japan at all.

“I heard your brother is getting into wrestling too now?”

“Yup. I’m not sure Dad wanted either of us doing this for a living but I guess it really is in the blood.”

He takes your hands and places them on your stomach, very ladylike and demure, and pats them with his.

“You need to get some sleep. I’ll go fight with the door to get out.”

“Tell me a bedtime story?” You try to make yourself sound as cute and harmless as possible and not like some crazed broad desperate to prolong the moment.

“No.”

You pout a little, gratified when you hear him chuckle.

“Ok, once upon a time there was an extremely silly little princess who could never figure out what she wanted. And no one ever seemed to be able to help her decide what that was, no matter how hard they tried. The end.”

You can’t help but give a wry laugh at that. “At least it’s nice to be a princess.”

“Who said I was talking about you?”

You stare at him a long time, trying to figure out how to untie all the knots of what you’ve done. You can’t even imagine. You’re still trying to figure it out when he bends down and touches his lips, very softly, very quickly, to yours.

He pulls back but then almost immediately repeats the gesture. Then repeats it again. And again. He shifts so that he’s hovering over you, continuing to give you these little kisses.

“Stop that,” he rasps.

“Stop what? You’re the one kissing me.”

“Hm. I guess you’re right.” He leans in again. “Stop me.”

“I don’t want to.”

He doesn’t stop.

“Yeah, I don’t really want you to stop me either.”

And from that point, it gets more insistent, more romantic, and more passionate, until you feel him easing your pants down and running his hands over your thighs and ass. Determined that he is not just going to turn this into another resentful mutual masturbation session, you pull at his shirt. He wriggles free of it immediately easing you out of yours.

“How do you manage to run around without a bra on like that?” He squeezes and licks at your breasts with a little wink.

“I’m in my own apartment. I’m allowed to walk around however I want.”

“Yeah. But you don’t always wear one at work either, do you?”

He crashes his mouth into yours, tongue eagerly breaching your lips.

“Don’t think I don’t notice,” he pants.

He slides down and presses his face between your legs before you can think of a witty comeback, and once he does, you can’t think of anything. It’s so intense, so determined the way he goes at this, the way he picks up on every little twitch and tremor in your body, how he paces himself and you enough that it never feels like a rush to a goal. You don’t deserve this. You have no right to have him be this good to you.

You twist your hand in his hair, pulling it loose from the disheveled bun he’s always sporting. The parts of it that were trapped inside are still damp and you tug firmly to make him look up at you.

“Did you shower before you came over here?”

He smiles coyly and presses two fingers inside you, curling them like he’s beckoning you forward, making you moan and twist even as you’re trying to keep your mind focused.

“I shower pretty frequently,” he grins, “what’s it to you?”

He presses his lips close to your clit, allowing his tongue to flick ever so lightly against it.

“I don’t know,” you breathe, trying not to get overwhelmed by what he’s doing, “I like thinking you got yourself all cleaned up and handsome for me.”

You feel the soft vibrations of his laughter as he dives back into you, tongue pushing up inside you and making you scream before you grab at his hair again.

“I don’t know why you’re doing this,” you whimper.

“Oh I love doing it.”

“I mean I don’t know why you’re doing this to me, when I’ve been so-”

You’re cut off as he goes right back at it, licking and pushing harder for a few seconds before he whispers, “If you had any idea how often I’ve jerked off fantasizing about eating you out, you’d probably stop speaking to me.”

With that he pins you down and continues in earnest, going at you with a zealot’s vigor so that you can’t question him or do anything but scream and beg him to continue what he’s doing until you fall apart, trembling and gasping.

You feel him wriggle out of his pants before he pulls you onto his lap, kissing you and playfully biting at your lips, his arms wound tight around your waist. You run your hand slowly down the length of his shaft, smiling at the little gasp this elicits.

“I want you inside me.”

“Yeah…” the hesitance in his voice terrifies you. “I was… I was hopeful enough to get all showered and freshened up before I came over but I wasn’t so confident that I actually brought any kind of protection with me.”

“I’m on birth control. And I get checked regularly, I swear, I’m-”

He kisses you hard, so passionately that you almost tumble over.

“You sure?” he whispers when he breaks the kiss.

“Very sure.”

He flips you onto your knees and pulls your hips back towards him. As he enters you, you realize that you’d convinced yourself you weren’t ever going to get this again. It’s like a reprieve from prison, feeling him fill you up.

He leans down enough that the feathery tips of his hair brush against the skin of your back, a stark contrast to the powerful hold he has on your hips. There’s an unbroken stream of praises coming from him but all you can think of to whimper in response is, “Thank you.”

“What?”

He slows his pace just a little.

“Thank you,” you repeat. “I didn’t think you’d want to touch me again. I don’t deserve you being this good to me.”

“Oh sweetheart no.” He pulls you up and holds you against his damp chest, one hand immediately falling to your clit while he continues to thrust inside you. “It’s ok, I’ve got you. I want to feel you come again, I want you to come on my cock.”

You let yourself relax into his touch and it takes very little time until he has you falling apart for him again, your muscles contracting sharply around him as he clearly fights to keep control.

He flips you onto your back like you’re nothing and smiles down at your dazed face.

“Let’s do this right.”

He leans down and pushes himself back inside you slowly crushing your body close to his and planting a fierce kiss on your lips. His movements are agonizingly slow, letting you feel every bit of what’s happening, picking up only when you hitch your hips against his. He keeps you wrapped up tight and close, faces practically touching as he finally lets himself come, eyes locked on yours. It’s a long, tender few minutes while he holds you, touching his lips to your forehead.

“I love you.” You just put it out there before the post-coital haze can fade, hoping it’ll stop him from closing himself off again.

“I love you too,” he whispers, nuzzling against the side of your head. “But you knew that already.”

You dig your nails into his shoulders a little.

“Stay with me. Sleep here, please.”

He looks thoughtful but it doesn’t take long for him to smile, stroking your cheek as he does.

“Yeah,” he beams, “I will.”

He rolls onto his side and pulls you close again.

“Did you seriously think I was going to be able to stay away from you forever?”

“Yes. I was pretty sure that you didn’t entirely want to, but I figured you’d fight it off.”

“How long have we known each other?”

“About six years.”

“You were working at the dojo and we all used to hang out together, right?”

“Yes.”

“How long had we been there before I asked you out to dinner?”

“I don’t know. A few months.”

“Closer to four. And I was already so hung up on you that I could barely think straight when you were around.”

You look at him in surprise. Yes, you’d known that he’d flirted a lot, but at that point all the boys at the dojo were trying to scheme their way into your pants. You’d always assumed that his real interest had developed much later.

“Yeah,” he says, noticing your expression, “I was that into you that early. And you know damn well it only got more intense from there.”

He wraps his arms around you and presses your head against his chest, kissing your hair. “And you thought that having finally gotten to take you to bed, having gotten you to say that you liked me, that I was going to be able to walk away?”

You squeeze him tight and nestle against him, your head immediately finding its way to the hollow of his shoulder. And as soon as it does, your whole body feels warm and safe and content. You want to keep talking to him but you can’t because this sort of bliss doesn't allow you to stay awake.

[staytiny-angel]

Grace and Country 2/5

Rating: M

Pairing: 'Hangman' Adam Page/F!OC, One-Sided Kenny Omega/F!OC

Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Harrassment.

Co-Written with @lilmissriottbliss

Taglist - @moxleyunstable, @axelwolf8109

Summary: Ava and Adam go on that date, it goes about you'd expect with the Dark Order involved, Things with Kenny come to a head.

"Violet!"

"Ava? Mon Cher Smackdown is about to start why are you screaming?"

Violet gave Finn a look before putting her friend on speaker "Mon Roi is here too, what has you so excited?"

"ADAM ASKED ME OUT ON A DATE!" The younger woman yelled

Ava could hear Violet cursing in French from a small distance. “Really? That’s amazing! Give me details now!”

“I lost my phone and he found it near your adopted brother and then Kenny was annoying me again so he covered for me by saying we were going on a date so we’re actually going on one!”

“I’m so happy for you!”

“Could you do me a solid?” Ava asked

Of course darling," Violet agreed

"Could you guys not tell the big boss?" Ava begged "You know I love Seth to death, he's my dad shaped person but he wasn't happy about this whole AEW deal and he'll be even less happy to know I'm going out with one of their biggest stars"

Violet and Finn silently looked at each other before agreeing to the younger woman's request 

"We have you covered darlin" Finn said

"What are you going to do about Omega?I'm starting to worry. He's really not taking no for an answer"

“I honestly don’t know” Violet handed Finn her phone, taking out the one meant to contact family. “I think she’s going to threaten Malachi into watching over you” Finn laughed.

Ava sighed in relief. While Malachi Black, formerly Aleister to Violet, was dark and broody, he did scare Kenny with a simple stare.

“So how’s Mox doing?” Violet asked

"Good, he got Omega off my back last night at Dynamite, threatened him with Ruby." Ava said "He said something about promising Seth to look out for me?"

"Seth called him and Miro when you decided to go to AEW." Finn explained 

"Called in a couple of favors. You are the baby."

Ava rolled her eyes even though the couple couldn't see her "You've got to be kidding. I can take care of myself"

“We know you can take care of yourself, Seth has a overprotective complex” 

Ava sighed but didn’t disagree. “We got to go now, see you tomorrow!” Violet hung up.

Ava turned off her phone, seeing a text from Kenny. Rolling her eyes she deleted it. “Is he ever gonna get the point?” she asked herself before flopping on her hotel bed with a sigh. He thoughts turning to the next day and the date she'd been dreaming of for years. 

-Next Day-

She met Adam outside a café, the cowboy looking handsome in normal street clothes and without a certain purple and black group shadowing him.

“Wow, you look great” He said. As she grinned and twirled once, showing off the chic black suit she'd chosen for their date. 

“Hope you don’t mind but I invited Violet and Finn just in case your friends crash this”

Adam laughed. “They probably will ”

Inside the cafe, Finn and Violet were waiting at a four person table, surprisingly without their daughter in tow.

"Where's my honey bunches?" Ava said with a pout, that Adam found adorable

"Becky and Seth have her" Finn explained "Shes having a playdate"

“Next time you bring her” Ava pointed. Finn raised his hands and laughed. Violet slid over a black coffee to Adam. 

He accepted it with a smile. “So you’re both going after the top titles in Smackdown” he grinned.

“Yup!” Finn grinned. “It was fun in NXT but I wasn’t spending another week without my husband there” Ava sighed.

“It’s harder to get a title shot in AEW, I have no idea how to get to Britt”

“I lost the chance to be the inaugural champ because someone thought an ass deserved it” Adam muttered.

“Adam I think your shadows are here” Violet pointed to a booth in the corner

Sure enough, the purple and black clad Dark Order filled 2 corner booths, trying and failing to be inconspicuous.

"Oh god" Adam murmured "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have told them where we were going"

"They really care about you" Ava smiled at Adam causing that feeling to flutter in his chest again.

"You may not, have been the first AEW champion but you've got a shot at Kenny at All Out" Finn says

"Sure do" Adam says "I can't wait, I've owed Kenny an ass whipping for a while now"

“Fucking creep” Ava rolled her eyes. “How’s Paige?”

“You don’t know that from Mox?” Violet raised an eyebrow. Ava shook her head

“She’s ok, doing wonders with her makeup. Her and Sonya are planning a wedding”

Ava nodded. “Sorry about the Kingdom disbanding” 

Finn rolled his eyes. “Of course Vince brings up Shotzi and us but doesn’t want Kyle, Millie, Priscilla or Jordan”

Adam and Ava share a smile knowing while AEW wasn't a paradise by any means…it wasn't run by Vince. 

A loud bang sounded from the back of the restaurant and every turned to see one of the corner tables flipped on its side as John Silver looked around sheepishly. 

Adam dropped his head in his hands as Ava giggled "I'm sorry, I'm gonna go uh…handle this" he said rising from his seat and heading toward the back.

"They are quite the band of misfits aren't they?" Violet said as she tried not to laugh as they watched Adam easily lift the table back in place and start seemingly scolding them for crashing their double date.

"They love him, and with the entire….mess with the Elite…their very overprotective." Ava explained

“Reminds me of Seth” Violet said. Ava’s eyes widened.

“It totally is!” Finn laughed as Adam came back and sat down.

“They swear it’s just a coincidence they all wanted to come here on the same day and time as my date”

Violet flipped her hair and put on her flirty voice. “So this a date?

Adam blushed hard. “Um…well, it’s definitely not a…friend thing…we’re not friends. I mean we are friends!, but I want to be more then friends!" 

Ava blushed as she watched Adam flounder under Violet's question 

"Leave him alone, mo chroi" Finn finally rescued the younger man from his wife. 

“I was just being a good friend” Violet smirked.

Adam took a breath. “I don’t know why but I have a thing for goth people”

Ava looked at Violet.

“Really? Is that why you went to the Dark Order?”

“Honestly? Kenny ruined tag teams for me. The Bullet Club went to shit after you were kicked out”  

Finn’s eye twitched, remembering how the Young Bucks fucked him over.

“The Bullet Club is nothing to me now. They ruined it!”

“The Elite’s worse, nothing but kissing Kenny’s ass, apparently he was looking to go to Impact and take their top title”

“Thank god the old man bought them, Impact might have been the worse part of my career but AEW would have ruined them” Violet sipped her ice coffee.

Adam sighed.

“I don’t know what happened. One minute he was my brother, now he’s a stranger” Adam said quietly as Ava rubbed his back

"Its okay, your going to take the AEW title from him at All Out." Ava consoled him.

The 2 couples finished their meal and left the restuarant, Finn and Violet heading to the arena to get ready for Smackdown, and Ava and Adam walking though the city streets enjoying each other's company. 

"This has been great" Ava says as they finally end up back at the hotel

"We'll have to do it again sometime" Adam replied causing Ava to blush again.

"Maybe next time….just the two of us?" He asked softly

“No demon and vampires. No Dark Order” Ava agreed. Adam hugged her.

“Adam!” Evil Uno yelled. The pair looked at the stable. Anna walked over. “Well, the date was a success so Alex made you this” She handed a black jacket to Ava. It had a purple rose stitched in the back.

“Wow, Alex’s a suckup” Adam joked. “I’m totally wearing this next week” Anna smiled.

“C’mon Adam, before the idiots start screaming” 

He rolled his eyes but hugged Ava goodbye, kissing her hair before walking away.

The Next Week 

After spending the weekend and into the next week bouncing between elation over her successful date with Adam (including spending a hefty amount of time texting back and forth with the cowboy) and annoyance that Kenny just would not stop texting and calling, it was finally Wednesday and time for that weeks episode of Dynamite, at which Ava had a match against Nyla Rose.

 

Over the past few days she had gone hunting for more appropriate gear to compliment her new jacket and was now wearing black leather shorts with purple accents and a purple and black corset top. 

"Don't you look like a full fledged member of the misfit society, I really thought you'd have better taste Sweetheart" Kenny said walking up to her, the Young Bucks flanking him

“I’ve liked purple and black before the Dark Order existed” Ava snapped.

Kenny grabbed her arm. “Let go!”

“I just want what’s best for you” Kenny said fiercely 

“HEY!” Darby Allin hit Kenny with a skateboard.

“She’s said no to you for weeks now, get lost!” He roared, Ava seeing why Mox had pretty much adopted him.

Kenny looked panicked and all but ran. The Bucks, glaring at her as the followed

“Thanks” Ava said to Darby. “I hate that fucker”

"Join the club" Darby replied 

Later that night after beating Nyla Rose, Ava was celebrating in the ring when Kenny's music hit and The Elite surrounded the ring. 

"I really tried to do this in private Ava, baby but you just won't listen to me, you'd rather hang out with those losers instead of being part of The Elite"

“I. Am. Not. Your. Baby!” Ava screamed,.

Kenny stepped in, smirking. “Just accept the date”

The crowd began chanting variations of yes and no. 

Then the music of the Dark Order hit, Adam leading the stable to a beat down. Colt tackled Kenny, Adam waving sarcastically at him before going over to Ava, "You okay Darlin?"

"Yeah, fucking asshole. Why won't he leave me alone" 

"Ava, Ava!" Kenny panted, "I have a deal for you, since you and the drunk, seem so close lately, Next week….you and Adam against me and Britt Baker. You win, you get a title shot at All Out. You two lose, Cowboy loses his shot, and you go out with me"

Ava looked at Adam, who was clenching his jaw. Anna and Evil Uno nodded their heads.

Ava grabbed a mic. “We accept! And let’s raise the stakes!!! If we win and move on to kick you asses at All Out, you leave me the fuck alone!” 

Kenny gulped "Done!"

“I’ll add to that!” Adam yelled. “When I kick your ass, you don’t get to have a rematch as long as I’m champion. Let someone else get an opportunity”

"Deal!" Kenny said cockily "It doesn't matter anyway "You two are gonna lose and when you do...not only will Adam never get a shot at the AEW Championship,  Ava...baby...your all mine" 

[taeslovehandles]

The commercial - Shortstory

It had been quite a while since Seokjin was able to enjoy his games freely. Play long into the night while trying to win against Yoongi and Jimin that had picked up Teamfight Tactics because of him.

The lockdown was annoying, mostly because the members couldn't see their fans at all, but it also meant more freetime. All the members were finally able to pick up hobbies and activities they hadn't been able to do with their fully packed schedules.

It was great and most of the group actually spend time with their families or meeting friends. Seokjin however played games. A lot of them. All day and all night. He had ordered takeout and drank lots of soda. Taehyung and Jungkook often came by to eat and play together and sometimes Hoseok would visit with cupcakes and new receipts for his Hyung to try.

The year went by quickly and with it came changes. Heavy changes. Sitting all day without exercising and constantly stuffing your face had it's toll. And it was showing.

-Knock Knock-

Nothing. Seokjin didn't hear ithe knock. He was too panicked finding jeans that still fit him.

"Hyung?"

A shirt landed on Namjoons face.

"Hyung what are you doing in here?!"

"Joonie...Joonie I'm having some issues okay? Look." He pulled his way too tight shirt up to reveal a proud and sagging belly with wide and thick love handles. But the most prominent feature was his wide bubblebutt. It was massive.

"Oh."

"This is a bigger problem that a simple 'Oh' Joonie. These were my fat jeans Joonie. My fat jeans won't go over my thighs!"

That was a problem. But Namjoon couldn't shake the thought away how unbelievably hot his Hyung looked like that. To his demise his reddened cheeks couldn't either.

"Uhm... That is an issue but... I actually came here to ask if you read the group chat for the new schedule?"

"No. As you may have noticed I got bigger problems right now." Massive problems.

Namjoon bit his lips. "Well..."

"What is it?" Seokjin tried once more to get his tight shirt over his belly. It didn't even cover half of it. Good god he really let himself go.

Namjoon rubbed the back of his head. "Well the news you're about to hear won't be good ones then."

"Just tell me already. It can't be worse than this." He gestured to his body as he slightly jumped up and down. Everything jiggled. God Namjoon was glad he was wearing wide sweatpants and a hoodie to cover his erection.

"Well. The company accepted a new agency and we are having a shooting tomorrow for a commercial clip."

"Oh." Now it was Seokjin that said it. His eyes widened as his brain slowly realized what that meant. "Oh my fucking god. This is..."

"Bad?"

"Terribly bad. Shit. What am I supposed to do now Joonie!?" Seokjin truly panicked now. He had nothing to wear. How was he even. Fuck.

"Suits."

"What?"

"They told us to wear suits for the shooting. That's all I know." Namjoons red cheeks were still pronounced on his face. He only eyed Seokjins rare like five times.

"Oh god. I can't wear my suit though?"

"Well-" And Namjoon hated himself for suggesting something that was obvious but he was literally drooling over Seokjins wide ass. "Maybe your suit still fits? You should try it. The fabric is more stretchy. You didn't gain that much." He did. Seokjin looked like a version that ate Seokjin. Each asscheek as big as one curled up Seokjin. No way was the man gonna fit in his old suit. But Namjoon couldn't help himself. He needed to see this.

"No I haven't tried them on yet. Let's see." Rummaging through his closet, Seokjin pulled his black suit out and held it over his body. "And you really think -that- still fits in there?" He grabbed part of his jiggly big butt.

"It might be a bit tight but it should fit." Why was Namjoon like that. It wouldn't fit. Not in a million years.

"Alright then let's try it. Nothing to lose."

------

A disaster. It had been a disaster. Not only did Seokjin rip the button of his pants but also ripped his entire shirt open at the seams. And if that hadn't been bad enough the poor man also ended up splitting his pants in the process of hunching over to pick up the popped button from the ground, presenting Namjoon with his wonderful underwear. An underwear that had also been too small revealing a big asscrack. Great.

-sniff-

"What am I supposed to do now Joonie?" Seokjins eyes looked teary. He was about to burst into tears.

"Hey shh. It's okay. I know a shop that basically lives off of situations like this."

"People getting too fat for their suits?"

Namjoon pinched Seokjins nose. "No dummy. People that need a custom tailord suit within 24h. I'll call them and we buy you a new one for tomorrow okay?"

Rubbing his nose Seokjin looked hopeful now. "Okay...Thank you Jonnie. You are a life saver."

---------

The suit had been made with ease and Seokjin looked presentable for the shooting the next day. Namjoon had been nice enough to inform the other members about their Hyungs 'weight struggles' and asked them to be scincere as well as to not mention it around him or stare too much.

But it was hard not to stare. The man that entered the shooting was huge. Seokjin had really packed on the pounds this past year. So much that his butt had touched the door frame on both sides slightly. The members did not mentioned his weight gain nor did they stare. At least not when Seokjin was looking.

"Hey guys. Sooo does anyone know what this shooting is for? What commercial are we filming?" Seokjin asks curious but also a bit embarrassed. No one had said anything about his new figure yet. He was glad they didn't but he still felt out of place.

"Hyundai is revealing their new S Class and we will be the new ambassadors for them. It's a huge deal apparently." Yoongi answers.

"Oh. Okay. Cars. No that's. That's cool." Seokjin was starting to sweat. He hadn't sat in a car for a year and didn't know if he would even fit in one anymore.

"Do you know if we-"

"Alright guys. Please come over here and stand infront of the car. I want three of you sitting down and the other four standing around it please." The director yells from across the room.

Standing. Seokjin would definitely stand. He scooted next to Namjoon on the left side of the car to slightly lean against it. Somehow look cooler.

The director looked at them and took some test shots before directing them for multiple different shots. Some with everyone walking toward the camera. Some with units of two to three and Seokjin really thought he would be able to finish this without getting into any uncomfortable situations. He thought that too soon.

"Alright. I will be taking action unit shots now. I want Mr.Kim and Mr.Park for this one please. Just stand next to the car for now please."

Seokjin did as he was told until the director kept rubbing his beard. "Mhmm actually. Can Mr.Kim please sit inside the car and get out after Mr.Park says his line?"

"Sure." Oh god Oh god Oh god no why please. At first Seokjin kept calm. He opened the door and sat inside. Or more so let his heft pull him into the tiny seat. His belly was in the way and he couldn't close the door because of it but the director seemed to like the casual look of Seokjin only sitting halfway in it with his legs outside.

Jimin said his line and then it was over. Seokjin tried to get up and out of the seat but his butt wouldn't budge. He tried again. Nothing.

Jimin whispered. "What are you doing. Get up?"

"I can't." Seokjin whispered back. "I'm stuck." Oh this was a nightmare. How in the world was Seokjin supposed to get out of this with his pride in tact?

"Cut." The director glanced at Seokjin when he spoke more firmly. "Mr.Kim is there a problem?"

"Oh uhm. No. It's just." He laughed akwardly. "You see. I really like this car and I was thinking maybe I could just keep sitting in it for this tape?"

The director cocked his brow as he obviously looked the man up and down.

"I agree!" Jimin came to his rescue. "Wouldn't it be a more dynamic shot if Seokjin keeps sitting and me walking toward him as I say my line? That way the car would be more in the focus." Jimin you smart son of a bitch. Seokjin truly loved his members.

"Mhmm. Alright let's try it!" The director sat back on his chair and Jimin winked at Seokjin before leaving to get ready for his walking scene.

-------

It was a blast. The scene looked good and right after Jimins and Seokjins shot they switched to another car color with Namjoon and Hoseok. This gave everyone else time to figure out how to get Seokjin out of that damn car.

"Wait don't pull on my suit! It's gonna rip!"

"Hyung we need to grab you somewhere though. " Taehyung pouts.

"Yah. Less talking more pushing." Yoongi had climbed onto the front seat and was pushing into Seokjins butt to somehow get him free.

"This isn't working." Jimin states.

"It would work if you'd help me push or pull him." Yoongi was out of breath. But not giving up.

God Seokjin just wanted to disappear into the ground and never come back out again. His members hands were everywhere on him. Squishing his fat without succeeding in getting him out. He had never felt so embarrassed.

It took them 15 minutes until they finally managed to pull him out of the car seat. Unfortunately Seokjin had somehow managed to press one side of his butt against the steering wheel and the hall was filled with a loud honk.

Whoever had been busy and not staring at the members did now. And Seokjin was standing there with his jacket open and a ridden up shirt that revealed his jiggly lover belly as well as wide hips poking out of his pants.

He stood there and laughed akwardly. He had to diet. He'd start tomorrow. Or maybe in a few days.

[rufousnmacska]

Goodbye and Hello - 9

Manon and Dorian said goodbye in Orynth. But for them, saying hello again is only a matter of time.

The final chapter! Thank you so much to everyone who has read this! I really appreciate all the support and comments!

Previous chapters (full recap)

Part One: I Wish…

Part Two: Another Day

Part Three: Those Two Words

Part Four: Breakfast in Bed

Part Five: Waiting

Part Six: Confessions (nsfw)

Part Seven: Old Friends

Part Eight: Light in the Darkness

***

Part Nine: Not Even Close

***

The sight of Rifthold on the horizon made Manon’s heartbeat skip into an uneven rhythm. As if in warning. For the first time since she’d left on this journey, fear and regret surged through her every nerve, replacing the impatience that had pushed her these last two days. The urgency to get here was gone in an instant.

Abraxos continued on, as though he didn’t notice her change in mood. Or, he was just ignoring it. That thought made her smile, relieving some small piece of tension from her body.

She’d never admit it to him – it’d go straight to his head – but he often knew what she needed before she did. When her grandmother had gutted her, when the horrors of Morath were chasing her, when she was on her last breath, she’d told him to take her somewhere safe. Only to awaken in a bed on a ship in the middle of the sea. A ship upon which Dorian sailed. No other person on board was known to Abraxos, had even been seen by him. Yet, he’d flown her there. To Dorian.

The memory helped dispel the fear, giving her a boost of much needed courage. Her wyvern reacted by flapping his great, silvery wings a little harder, propelling them faster towards the city that began to glow before them.

It was almost dark, and as the sun disappeared, she was glad to have taken this more traditional route. The long way, instead of using a wyrd gate. Manon knew Glennis questioned the wisdom of taking the extra time flying here. The gate would’ve been faster, easier. No chance to back out. But Manon had insisted. She needed that extra time to think, to make absolutely certain of what she wanted. Flying cleared her head. It always had. And though she’d had that frightening moment of doubt an instant ago, the wind had lifted it away.

Perhaps carried on that same wind, Glennis’s words came floating back to her. The not so innocent questioning had propelled her to this moment.

*****

Five days ago...

The room was large, warm, and well furnished. Except for the fact that there was only one bed. It could easily accommodate two witches though.

“I’ll try not to snore,” Glennis said as she sat her bags in a corner.

Manon, following right behind, said, “I’ll try not to kick you when you do.”

The old witch laughed. “At least your mood hasn’t soured at the prospect of a roommate. Especially one who is not your first choice in such matters.”

It had been just over six months since Dorian first appeared in Morrigna through a wyrd gate. Petrah and Glennis knew about the king’s frequent nightly visits. Chaol and Yrene knew of the queen’s occasional stays in Rifthold. And other than a few exceptionally trustworthy guards, no one else had been told.

In order to maintain secrecy while she and Glennis were in Briarcliff to meet with Ansel, Manon would have to go a few nights without the company of the king.

Watching Glennis sort through her things, Manon smiled, realizing she was glad for this time together. They spoke every day, but there was always so much going on around them that often it felt like she hardly ever saw her great-grandmother.

“Well, you’re my first choice tonight.”

Glennis laughed again, and Manon warmed at the sight and sound. How quickly she’d grown to love the witch. How completely she relied on her. The feelings were equal parts terrifying and comforting. Manon was still trying to parse them when she realized Glennis was asking her a question.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I asked if Dorian has discussed the problem he is having with some of his nobility.”

“No,” she said, not bothering to hide her confusion. “And how would you know of it?” She knew that answer at least but wanted to make the crone squirm a bit.

As she began to remove her heavy flying clothes, Glennis tried to appear innocent. She worked at the leathers and boots with her gnarled hands for several minutes. Manon’s patience dissolved as she began to tap her foot on the floor.

“You can speak and get undressed at the same time.”

“Ha! I’m not as young as you are.” Finally, she was in her bedclothes, climbing into bed, and moving to adjust the pile of blankets atop her. “Yrene mentioned it in a letter.”

“The letters he and I carry back and forth for you?” Manon asked. “If you’re going to plot and plan behind our backs, I’m refusing to deliver them anymore.”

Her great-grandmother sat against the headboard and pulled the covers up around her. “Perhaps we wouldn’t need to … what did you accuse us of? Plotting? We wouldn’t need to plot if the two of you took matters into your own hands.”

Manon leaned on the tall corner post at the foot of the bed and crossed her arms. “What matters? What is happening with his lords?”

“They are pushing their king to find a queen.”

Something in her stomach flipped and her face paled. She turned away and began to fumble with her own leathers. “No,” she said roughly. “He did not tell me.”

“Have you never considered it?” Glennis lost the smug teasing and now sounded concerned, truly grandmotherly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t pry.”

She pulled one of his shirts from her bag. It served as her bedclothes, when she needed to wear them. But she just held it, staring, trying not to inhale his scent that was still clinging to it. “Are you and Yrene aware that I once asked him? And he said no?” There was no anger, no cruelty in her words. She’d gotten over the rejection when he’d admitted that he wanted to say yes. Larger forces had kept him from it. And now, those forces were gone. She had yet to decide how that made her feel.

“No. When?”

Manon smiled. So much for not prying, she thought. Quickly, she threw the shirt on and got under the covers. Or, what was left that Glennis had not commandeered for her side. It was late spring, which meant it was still cold in the Wastes.

“The night before he left for Morath.”

Glennis sucked in a breath as a look of understanding filled her face. “Ah yes. I remember. I almost thought you’d go after him. If the call for aid had not come.” Curious now, she asked, “Would you have?”

“I don’t know,” Manon confessed. She’d felt the pull to go. The same pull she often felt around him. To him. Shaking her head, she said, “It doesn’t matter now. He said he would never cage me. Alliance or not.”

“Alliance?”

“I offered him a marriage alliance. For the war.” As she said it, she began to realize perhaps his duty to the keys wasn’t the only reason he’d turned her down. The cringe blooming on Glennis’s face seemed to confirm it. “Shit,” Manon said, flopping back on her pillow. “I made it sound like something to be … endured.” The memory of what she said came rushing back, making her feel worse. “Gods, I called it a sacrifice.”  

“Oh dear.”

“Shit,” she repeated. “It’s no wonder.” A sense of frantic urgency almost overtook her as she turned to the witch. “Why is he still with me? After an insult of that magnitude?”

This time, when Glennis laughed, it didn’t make Manon feel warm and comforted. It only increased the anxiety. Almost like she knew what was coming.

“Because he is madly in love with you, granddaughter. Surely you know that! It’s written all over his face. The way he looks at you, the way he seems to…” She paused, looking for the right word. “The way he glows when he’s near you.”

Ghislaine’s books popped into her mind. The romance stories she’d glanced at that used ridiculous, flowery language and went on and on, endlessly describing feelings and heated looks and secret glances. Suddenly, she wondered if maybe she should actually read them to understand what the hell was happening to her.

Mouth halfway hanging open, she faced Glennis. “I didn’t realize …”

“Well, now you do.”

Manon said nothing, not letting herself be convinced by the observations of an old witch, who was no doubt influenced by a young, recently married healer. She couldn’t decipher their motives, and she didn’t think they were lying. But … they had to be wrong. Dorian would have said something by now.

But then she thought of the letters. And the Ferian Gap. The breakfast in bed. The gift of her favorite pastries. The wyrd gate that let her mourn in Theralis. That let them see each other whenever they wanted.

No. Glennis’s conjecture was turning her into some silly, love struck witchling.

“Do you love him?”

Her head shot around to find her great-grandmother’s curious, caring face.

Manon opened her mouth to answer, but then she stopped. What was the answer? She thought again of the Ferian Gap and asking him to dance. The books she retrieved from a place of bad memories to give to him. The pull, always towards him. Even before the war. He’d never feared her, never judged her.

Moisture began to fill her eyes as she stared intently at Glennis. “Yes,” she whispered. A sweet smile, full of love and joy, stared back at her. “But …”

The smile faded. “But what?”

“He is mortal,” Manon said, almost choking out the last word. A word she’d tried so desperately to forget. Dorian was a mortal. She was not. Losing him was a heartbreak she didn’t think she could take.

Glennis reached over and placed a cold hand on Manon’s cheek. “He is mortal.”

The affirmation of what she already knew still sent a spike of grief through her heart.

“But …” Her great grandmother had a sparkle in her eye.

“But what?” Manon asked.

Glennis sat back, beaming with some emotion Manon couldn’t decipher. “But he has raw magic, dear.”

Manon shook her head. “So? A lot was taken by the lock, he isn’t as strong as he used to be.”

Exasperation. That was the look on her face now.

“I happen to have it on good authority that he did not expend so much as to keep him from healing. He still has a substantial reserve of power.”

She knew he still had the ability to heal. But again, “So? I clearly don’t know what your point is. What authority? And what are you saying?”

"My point is that according to our continent’s greatest healer-”

Manon rolled her eyes. Not at the description of Yrene’s skill, but the meddling. Yrene and Glennis were like two little birds chirping back and forth and sticking their beaks in other peoples’ business.

“-the King of Adarlan’s magic will grant him a very, very long mortal life.”

She sat upright. “How long?”

All the amusement left Glennis’s face. “No one has the ability to predict such things. And that’s part of my point. I could drop over dead tomorrow.” Manon frowned, but Glennis kept going. “Harsh, I know. And not something I like to think about. But it’s the truth. It’s true of you as much as me. And Dorian. And Petrah and Bronwen. All of us. Do not conflate immortality with immunity from death. Long-lived by nature of being a witch or fae, or possession of raw magic … It amounts to the same thing. But,” she said, patting Manon’s arm gently, “never forget that we will all meet the same end.”

“So,” Manon started, unable to hold back a smile at Glennis’s raised eyebrow. “You’re saying that since any of us can die at any time, I shouldn’t worry about things outside my control and just enjoy the time I’m given?”

“Well said, granddaughter.”

Manon huffed a laugh, trying not to let this bright spot of hope take over too quickly. Glennis’s words, though greater in number and a bit more philosophical, mirrored Asterin’s final command to her. A command she never forgot, but one she sometimes didn’t translate well into whatever situation was troubling her.

“Do you really view marriage as a cage?” Glennis asked.

After a moment’s thought, Manon said, “I don’t know. I used to. But now, after seeing the Crochans with their husbands and wives, and the Terrasen queen with her mate …” Asterin had loved her hunter, enough to want to stay with him. Enough to regret not going back. “I’m not so sure.”

Glennis nestled down under her blankets. “I’ve seen it become so. But I’ve seen the opposite. Experienced the opposite. Marriage demands compromises and sacrifices, just as any relationship does. Allies, friends, family, lovers, spouses. None of it is easy. I can’t tell you what to do. Despite all of my plotting with Yrene,” she said with a wink, leaving Manon smiling. “It is your choice. Yours and Dorian’s. If you were to marry, the two of you determine the shape of that bond, and your paths through troubles and happiness. No one else.”

Thinking of all the interested parties, Manon wasn’t sure about that. Plenty of unimportant people, both human and witch, would offer their loud, critical opinions. And those who were important to them … Glennis, Chaol, Yrene, Petrah, maybe a few more. She wasn’t foolish enough to think they wouldn’t be among those giving unwanted advice. With a soft laugh, she realized that would be no different than her life now.

“Damn it,” she muttered, looking around the room, wishing she didn’t have to be here. Wishing she wasn’t obligated to spend two days cooped up, playing nice to get humans to stop harassing witches trying to settle near the border.

It must have shown on her face because Glennis said, “Be patient, dear. With all the meetings we have scheduled, this trip will fly by. Then you can tell him how you feel.”

And just like that, her insides somersaulted and she was glad to be here, unable to use the wyrdgate, unable to fly to Rifthold. Feigning agreement, Manon told Glennis goodnight and turned onto her side, pretending to fall asleep. But her mind and heart were racing, keeping her far from any sort of rest.

Tell him how you feel.

It sounded so simple. Just three words, spoken aloud. Laying herself completely bare in front of him in a way she’d never done before. That pathetic proposal might no longer register in her list of most humiliating memories. This confession would surely surpass it. As her imagination truly took off, envisioning myriad scenarios, almost all ending poorly, her stomach joined her heart and head. The sensation was nauseating, leaving her feel like she was falling.

Oh yes, she thought. This will be easy.

*****

“Is Manon joining us for dinner?” Yrene swung Josie around to her other arm flexing her newly freed hand in an attempt to relieve the numbness. “She’s almost too big to carry.”

“Here,” Dorian said. “I’ll hold her. She’s not too—"

Falling backwards onto the sofa, he cried out, pretending he couldn’t stand with her in his arms. Josie laughed and then screamed as she scrambled away from him. He didn’t reach for her, letting her crawl back towards him. When she was close enough, he lunged, grabbing her feet and wiggling his fingers on her chubby toes. She screeched again in between bouts of laughter. When she was gasping for breath, Dorian sat her on the floor and let her go, smiling as she crawled speedily away.

Short of breath himself, he took another moment before answering. “Not tonight. She’s in Briarcliff with Glennis. They’re meeting with Ansel about some border disputes.” They both watched Josie try to chase the dog around the kitchen table. “Not all of Ansel’s people like being so close to the witches.”

Yrene scowled. “I wish people were more open minded.”

“Like you were when you first met me?” Chaol asked as he came through the door. His wife dismissed him with a wave of her hand and went into the kitchen as Josie begged for Chaol to pick her up.

Yrene returned quickly, placing large bowls of steaming food on the table. With a decent attempt at innocence, she asked, “And when should we expect the wedding?”

Dorian sighed and didn’t reply, pretending to be too focused on scratching the dog’s belly.

“Honey,” Chaol said through clenched teeth. “It’s none of our business.”

Yrene opened her mouth to argue but she caught sight of Dorian’s face and stopped.

If Manon initiated it, he’d have the wedding tomorrow. But he’d long ago decided not to broach the subject with her. If it were to happen, it would be on her timeline, not his. As royals, they had the advantage of being able to set the terms of a marriage and union between kingdoms. That didn’t mean it was something she would look upon favorably. She’d never acknowledged it, but they both knew he had not been wrong about the cage.

To placate the sad, apologetic look on her face, Dorian winked and said, a little too brightly, “Yrene, you will be the first to know.” Her resulting smile pleased him, and they all sat down to eat.

Dorian was quiet as Chaol and Yrene talked about their day – what trouble Josie had started in the healer’s quarters, some issue with sword training and new guards, plans for the new Torre – only speaking when he offered to watch Josie one evening later in the week.

He loved them both dearly and appreciated their concern and desire to see him happy. But he wished they could understand that, marriage or not, being with Manon was enough. They already had a commitment, and thanks to the wyrd gate, the means to see each other whenever they wanted. He loved her.

And if that word had never been spoken between them yet? What did that mean?

He dipped a piece of bread in the thick stew and tossed it in his mouth. A good excuse to not have to talk. And the faster he ate, the sooner he could go back to his rooms and sulk.

*****

Josie squealed as the terrier leaped just out of her reach. He spun around, front paws stretched out, rump in the air, tail wagging like a feather, goading her to try again. He was not giving up the ball without a struggle.

Her face, pink with frustration, looked like a perfect mix of her parents, making Dorian laugh.

They continued playing, the dog teasing her with the ball as they sat in the midst of a chaos of toys in his drawing room. He tried to focus on them and not Manon. She should have returned from Briarcliff by now. That she hadn’t meant the border trouble was worse than they’d suspected. Another high pitched squeal broke through his worry. And just in time, he pulled the slobbery ball out of Josie’s hand before she could put it in her mouth. Tossing it across the room, he was grateful for this distraction. Probably not as grateful as Chaol and Yrene for the evening to themselves.

With a bright eyed grin, Josie suddenly pointed behind him to the door into his bedroom. Still sitting cross legged and holding a doll that was missing an arm, Dorian turned to find Manon watching them.

She was utterly still, her own eyes wide and shining.

Dorian blinked, thinking she was a vision, and before he could move, before he could even say hello, she shook her head and said, “This was a mistake.”

Then she turned and disappeared.

Dorian ran after her, calling her name, only to see her cross his balcony and hop onto Abraxos. It took her several commands to get him airborne, as if the wyvern was stalling, giving Dorian time to reach them. But Josie started crying from where she still sat in the other room and he skidded to a stop, looking between the toddler inside and Manon about to leave.

“Wait!” he shouted. Abraxos twisted his long neck around and gave him a sorrowful look just before Manon kicked with her legs, ordering him off the railing and into the air.

She had not looked back at him. Not once.

As they flew away, Josie’s cries reached him again and he ran back inside. She hadn’t moved, and he realized she was upset because the dog had raced off after him. He picked her up and bounced her in his arms as he paced around the room, wondering what in the hell had just happened. She quieted down quickly and, despite the guilt of interrupting their night, he called for a page to find Chaol.

It wasn’t long before Chaol and Yrene appeared, worried something had happened to Josie. But at the sight of her asleep in Dorian’s arms, they calmed down.

He was not calm though. With a quick explanation, mostly because there wasn’t much to tell them, he passed the baby off to her mother and went straight for the large closet in his bedroom. They never left a wyrd gate open, but only used them in private locations. The wyrdmarks were half written so it took him no time to complete the spell.

After a drop or two of his blood, the gate flared to life, looking out into the night sky. Darkness, a chill wind, and fragments of clouds drifting past the moon. He glanced back to Chaol, wordlessly asking him to close the gate. Chaol nodded and within a second, Dorian shifted into his raven form and flew through the flaming doorway.

His corvid eyes adjusted slowly to the lack of light, but there, flapping ahead, he spotted the brief moonlit gleam of Abraxos’s spidersilk wings. The magical door hovering behind him disappeared and Dorian sped up to try and catch them. Shifting to a wyvern gave him a boost of power and speed and soon, he was flying in their wake. Another shift, back to the raven, and he was above her. She hadn’t noticed him until the pop and buzz of magic with the final shift into his own form caught her attention. Manon looked back just as he dropped onto Abraxos’s back.

Crouching behind her, clinging to the edge of her saddle, Dorian shouted, “Land!”

Manon spun around, her eyes wide in anger as Abraxos began to bank and descend. As she realized the command had been to him, not her. And he’d obeyed.

Before she could say anything, the wyvern was skimming over the tops of trees, then landing at the edge of a freshly tilled field. Then, came the rage.

Jumping off the instant his talons touched the ground, Manon turned on the beast. “You traitorous worm! How dare you ignore my commands in favor of his!”

Dorian climbed down, feeling guilty for involving Abraxos. Though, he’d only told him to land. That the wyvern obeyed him was as much a surprise to him as it was to Manon. When he reached her, still yelling at her mount, he suppressed a smile.

Abraxos stared her down, taking her tantrum in stride, as if the screaming and cursing meant nothing. As if he knew none of this was really about him. When his eyes slid to Dorian, hers followed. And the yelling ceased.

*****

Damn those wyrd gates, she thought. And damn his shapeshifting. But, she might as well damn herself, her own stupidity, for coming here.

Dorian said nothing as he looked at her, waiting for her to explain. And as she stared up into his eyes, all she could see was that baby. How he’d been playing with her. Laughing. Happy.

The sight had made her question everything. Not her feelings for him. But whether those feelings were enough. Whether she was enough. And could give him what he wanted.

She hated this. Love and fear and doubt and need. A million emotions swirling inside her. A tempest she had no control over.

His brow creased and he leaned towards her, as if reading all of it on her face. Gently, he brushed his thumb along her cheek, hoping to coax her into speaking. And just that small touch was like a balm, cool to her skin, but a torch to her blood, sending heat coursing through her. Warmth, and love, she realized. It had always been there, in his touch. But she was only now able to see it for what it was.

“I came here to tell you.” She broke off, still fighting back the fear.

His hand dropped to her shoulder, down her arm, until he interlaced their fingers. “What?” he asked softly. “What do you want to tell me?” That fire from his touch still moved through her, filling her. “Manon,” he whispered.

With a deep inhale, hoping it would somehow give her courage, she said, “I came here to tell you that I love you.” She held his gaze, searching for any small sign that she would regret this. But there were already tears gathering. In his eyes as well as her own.

Dorian cupped her face in his hands and shook his head, blinking rapidly, not just to dispel the tears about to fall, but as if he couldn’t believe what she’d said. So, she said it again.

“I love you.”

And then, he was kissing her. And she felt the smile on his lips, felt the moisture on his cheeks, felt the joy radiating from him. His magic burst from him like a bright light, enveloping them in its glow.

Breaking their kiss, he rested his forehead on hers. “I love you too, witchling.”

Hearing it back, feeling its truth and gravity, Manon broke into a smile mirroring his own. She felt that warmth again, stronger, taking her over. And she realized it wasn’t just coming from him. It came from inside herself too, forcing its way to the top of that storm of emotion, overpowering everything else. Dorian kissed her again, and all she knew was that heat. From his touch, his love. And her love for him.

*****

“What spooked you earlier?” Dorian asked as he traced out some sort of pattern on her bare back.

They’d flown back to the castle, where Abraxos had been given several large haunches of meat – a thank you from Dorian and apology from Manon – and was settled in the stable that had been built for him.

Manon didn’t move from where she lay curled against him, enjoying the caress of his fingertips across her skin. Serene, safe. Two things she couldn’t remember ever feeling. Certainly not before him. Even his question didn’t intrude upon the peace she felt.

“I think you know,” she hedged.

He huffed a breathy laugh. “Just because I love playing with Josie doesn’t mean ...” He trailed off and Manon finally shifted, propping herself up on his chest so she could look into his eyes.

“We both require an heir,” she said matter-of-factly. “Delaying this discussion won’t make it easier.” She didn’t know where this newfound courage was coming from. True, she’d always been blunt. But hours ago, she’d been terrified.

Manon tried to envision a boy-sized Dorian, tearing through the castle creating mischief, only to be caught and punished with dance lessons. But try as she might, she couldn’t see it. It was as though Dorian had been born, fully formed, as beautiful and haunted and powerful as the day she’d first seen him in Oakwald, collared and possessed by a valg prince.

The sensation of his pulse beneath her fingertips made her blink and she realized she was touching his neck. The scarred skin, not overly rough but lighter than the rest of him, wrapped around his neck. The edges where pale skin met darker were jagged, like a lightning bolt. As if he’d been struck in one spot and the energy rippled through him.

Her eyes met his and she started to remove her hand. But he grabbed her arm and placed her fingers back on the scar.

“Only you,” he said. “Only you acknowledge it. No one else looks at it. They act as if it never happened.”

Manon considered. “Perhaps they think you want to forget.”

“They’d be right. To a degree.” Dorian closed his eyes, struggling to find his next words. “Part of me wants nothing more than to forget. That part would do anything, give anything to go back. Back before this,” his fingers grazed hers still atop the scar. “But the other part of me wants to remember. So it never happens to anyone again. I must remember so I can make amends to all those hurt by Adarlan.”

He moved her hand up to kiss it. “I don’t want to go back. I want to go forward. I want to live. You once told me to take no more than you gave. And I promise, I won’t. But I need you, however much you can give, I need you to live. At least, the life I want to live. I can’t see a future without you in it."

“And children?” Manon didn’t know what answer she was hoping for. Didn’t know what she in fact wanted.

The need for an heir was a steady, growing beat in her head. Not loud. Yet. But it was there. Along with the godsdamned fear. That she or the witchling would die. Or that she wouldn’t know how to be a true mother. 

Dorian was silent, reading her expressions. Finally, he asked, “What do you want?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “With you ...” she paused, sorting through the thoughts twisting in her head. “Having a witchling is the greatest honor in a witch’s life. If that happened, I would want to share it with you. Only you.”

“But,” he prompted. His fingers began their previous motions across her back.

“But I don’t want to be pushed into it. I don’t want it to be about fulfilling a requirement.”

“You want time. You want it to be your choice.”

“Yes,” she said, relieved that he seemed to understand. “You never answered my question.”

Dorian smiled. “You just answered it for me. I would love to have children with you Manon. But by our own choice, and on our own time.”

“And if it never happens?" The joy he’d shown playing with Josie earlier ... Did he know how rare witchlings were?

With a shrug to make it seem as if he hadn’t spent time thinking about it, he said, “A suitable heir is not guaranteed by blood. I can name anyone heir, just as you could for the Wastes.” When she only hesitated, he added, “Despite all my mother’s ministrations, despite all the expectations of heirs and alliance and bloodlines, all I’ve ever wanted is a queen who I love, truly and with my whole heart. And a queen who would love me in return. Can you give me that?”

“Yes,” she replied, without an ounce of doubt. Pulling his hand to rest his palm on her chest, she added, “You have my heart.”

“You have mine,” he said, brushing his lips across hers. “Whatever else comes with it will be like frosting on a cake.”

Manon laughed, looking over at the few remains of the chocolate cake they’d devoured earlier, then resumed her position laying on him.

He took up the writing on her back again and she began to relax, enjoying the sensation, when something made her still. Dorian kept going and Manon focused, trying to pay attention to the shapes he was making.

“What is that?” she asked, not moving. “What are you drawing?”

“Letters,” he said, his voice giving away the fact that he must be smirking. “Words.”

Manon tensed and sucked in a breath. “What words?”

He brushed his palm down her back, as if erasing what had come before and started again.

With each word he wrote on her now hot skin, Dorian translated by whispering in her ear.

Will

you

marry

me

Manon remained motionless. Except for her heart, which was beating so rapidly she thought it might explode.

No fingertips this time, Dorian said quietly, “We can wait. For however long we need. There’s no rush and if you can’t do it, I understand. I just …” She heard him swallow, hesitating. “I love you.”

Pushing herself back up on her elbow, Manon looked at him. Just looked. Then she brushed her thumb across his lower lip. “This was supposed to take the edge off.”

“And did it?” he asked, no hint of levity or teasing. The sparks in his eyes were proof he remembered the last time they’d exchanged these words. He knew what should come next.

Not even close.

As she considered, she realized there were some edges he had subdued. Not the sharp edges of her witch soul, not the edges of who she was. Those were honed anew. But he had helped her onto the path of healing from the loss of the Thirteen. He’d helped her learn about trust and love and the hope of a better world. He challenged her, accepted her. He was her mirror in so many ways. There would be no cage with him.

Ignoring the line she was supposed to say in favor of answering the previous question he’d posed, she said simply, “I will.”

*****

Epilogue

Nine years later…

After a week of stormy gray skies, and high winds, the sun broke through on the one day that mattered. Even though they’d agreed to keep it small and simple, guests from three continents had come to the Ferian Gap. To celebrate a union and reunion. For the first time since the defeat of the valg, the royal wedding joining the Witch Kingdom and Adarlan brought together the allies of the war: Wendlyn, the Khaganate, the Western Wastes, the Silent Assassins, Eyllwe, Terrasen, Doranelle.

Manon wore a dress for the first time in her life, while Dorian, for the first time in his, felt nervous about having so many eyes on him. The only eyes he sought out, gold and brilliant and glittering in the sun, helped calm him. And he reassured her, many times and in many ways, that she was stunning in the form-fitting red silk.

The ceremony, held outside for the benefit of the Queen’s wyvern, was brief but emotional, with the heartfelt vows causing more than a few guests to reach for a handkerchief. None more so than the Queen’s great-grandmother and the head of Erilea’s Torre, who shared a long hug at the end.

A host of witches on wyverns and brooms joined a large group of Rukhin, riding mounts born and raised here by their Wing Leader Orghana, as they flew across the Gap, whooping and cheering their King and Queen.

Qara oversaw the food, which was plentiful and delicious. The old Rukhin cook was offered a bribe by the Terrasen Queen to move to Orynth. But she refused. Unbeknownst to a dejected Aelin, Manon convinced the cook to give up one recipe for chocolate pastries. She then secretly offered it to Rowan, as a gift he could give his wife. And as a thank you for helping Dorian escape Rifthold all those years ago.

At one point, the recently crowned Khagan and his children encouraged the Empress to sing. However, it took the combined efforts of Chaol, Yrene, and Dorian to get her to agree. Nesryn’s voice brought more guests to tears as the Rukhin were reminded of the old homes they’d left to start a new one here.

While their friends laughed and ate and danced, Dorian never left his wife’s side. He knew this was a bittersweet day for Manon. A day of love and joy, but it was incomplete without the Thirteen. She found solace in his suggestion that they were sharing that joy in whatever afterlife they watched from. Not the Darkness. They had not gone to a dark place. Her sisters resided in light.

When the music sped up and the other Rukhin singers took over, Dorian led Manon away from the crowd, back to the shadowed corner where they’d shared their first dance. And as they turned in slow circles, holding each other so close there was no space between them, they laughed and whispered, dancing like that for the rest of the night.

Well, not the rest of the night. They were interrupted by a witchling who had refused to be taken to bed. Rhiannon insisted on one more dance with her parents, only then would she go to sleep.

And she kept her word. Halfway through the song, held tightly between them, Rhia fell asleep on Dorian’s shoulder as Manon gently stroked her hair.

The end.

*****

Thank you again!

Tagging - @itach-i​ @nestasbucket​ @blackhavilliard​ @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies​ @sierrareads​ @chloe123love607​ @manontrashbeak​ @over300books​ @bookishwitchling​ @jimetg98​ @mis-lil-red​ @yourfacesickens-me​ @awesomelena555​

This one is done but if you’d like to be tagged in future fics, let me know :)

fanfic master list (includes the link to my fics on AO3)

[black-wolf066]

An Au where Five dies young in the apocalypse.

(((I originally wanted this to be something more happy-ish, despite the Au idea, but my Muse demanded angst; so angst it shall have. Warnings for the general Klaus-ness of... well Klaus (he's my favorite of them all so I’m not hating on him, but we all know the warnings that come tagged with his name by now) as well as mild language and again angst. 

This story is posted over on my Ao3 account under the same pen name (blackwolf066) I would link but due to people posting phishing links, I'm weary to do so. The story is called [Not an End of All, Only an End of Something])))

Klaus is not quite twenty-four, just a little over a year before the inevitable publishing of Vanya's book, when Five pops up out of the blue. And at the worst possible moment too as Klaus OD's on the ground of some seedy alleyway.

When he wakes up in the back of an ambulance, he thinks it was all just one big twisted hallucination. But then he looks over the EMT's shoulder and sees a glaring, near murderous Ben, which is not an uncommon sight at all considering where he landed himself (again). No, it's the pale figure standing beside Ben, a very rattled and pale ghost with the face of little number Five and--

"Well, shit."

Is all he can really articulate.

Ben just glares harder.

After coming to grips with it (he will never come to grips with it) and after hearing Five's sad tale; he seeks out the rest of their living siblings.

Really, he shouldn't have even bothered.

Much like how no one believed Klaus about Ben in the beginning, they sure as hell don't believe him about Five, or the bullshit he spits about the apocalypse being real (courtesy of Five telling him and Ben what all had happened after he disappeared). Klaus truly believes his brother's story, the proof of it clear enough on his ghostly corpse. The layer of soot that was too ashy and grey to really be grime. The slight wheeze to Five's words even though the boy was dead and no longer needed air. The hollowness of his cheeks and the clothes that hung too big on his too small, bony frame.

It’s a scary thought, to know that all of humanity rests on Klaus' shoulders; and all because none of his siblings could be bothered to give Klaus the time of day.

"We're all doomed." Five puts eloquently.

Klaus hisses at him, but he knows Five is right. He's the last person anyone should put their faith in and yet Five didn't have much of a choice.

Klaus didn't need the reminder.

Nor did he sign up for this shit.

(None of them did, not Ben and surely not poor little number Five, who Klaus still has a hard time keeping long bouts of eye contact with; the image of his too small brother and the clear suffering he had gone through, far worse than when Ben had appeared all bloody and shadowed in the corner of his room at Seventeen).

Meanwhile the Commission are left scratching their heads and wondering what in the hell happened. What killed Five in the first place? Was it the starvation that did him in; or the ashy air that caused his lungs to stop filling altogether? Or was it the expired Twinkie that was the straw that broke the camel’s back?

(They don't dwell on it for long. What will be will be and all that jazz)

With two nagging brothers instead of one, Klaus has a harder time chasing and keeping his continued highs. Though he doesn't want this responsibility, would rather sit back and watch the world burn during his lower moments of weakness; Klaus finds, much like Five, that he doesn't have much of a choice either.

(The disappointment on anyone's face had always been a natural state in regards to Klaus. He was the family fuck up after all, the useless number out of the lot of them; and that included Vanya. He was used to it by now, but to see that disappointment on his kid brother, hurt more than he'd ever like to admit aloud).

So he gets clean, or clean enough, no longer allowed to go for the harder stuff (the topic of Sobriety is a fight Ben and Five realize they will never win). Klaus needs something if he's to do this with his sanity still intact, the ghosts are just too damn loud, too unpredictable and too uncontrollable (not like he could ever control them in the first place) to really go full on cold turkey.

At least it's a start in the right direction, so Ben and Five will take whatever they can get at this point.

With no leads other than a glass eyeball no longer in Five's possession, there isn't much Klaus can really do but wait for nightfall and break into the Meritech facility; a company he had never even heard of (until that day) that apparently the eyeball originated from ("Obviously it came from there, Klaus, pay attention!"). With Ben and Five acting as his lookout and scout respectively (to warn of any security wandering the building as well as to point out all the cameras to duck around and avoid), it doesn't take Klaus long to find the file room, but none of the files on hand have the serial number Five rattles off and they're back to square one.

Between the span of the next six years, the harbinger of death will lose an eye and none of them know when exactly that will happen or who said harbinger will be.

And life continues on.

Klaus manages to get a job despite his record, and even a small apartment to live in. It's a shitty little studio in an even shittier part of town. It's all he can really afford, but it's the home he made for himself and his brothers and he couldn't ask for much more.

Vanya publishes her book, and though Klaus silently cheers on her ballsyness (even--deep down--understands why she did in it the first place) he would have liked it better had she not callously attacked him like she did everyone else. He debates on using the damn thing for kindling in the fireplace, but somehow can't bring himself to do it; not when it's the only picture he has of his sister despite the betrayal he feels burning in his chest.

It sits collecting dust on the bookshelf instead.

Then one day Vanya randomly appears in their ghostly midst and Klaus is honest to god ready to throw hands.

"You know this is not what I ever had in mind about getting the four-corner squad back together again." Klaus mumbles.

"There never was a 'four-corner' squad," Five grunts, "You always just invited yourself along anyway."

Fair, Klaus thinks, and smirks faintly at the twin smacks that resound in the apartment from Ben and Vanya hitting Five's arms. The little gremlin’s hissing as he threatens and dares them to do something like that ever again, do nothing to lighten the fact that Vanya is still very much dead and standing in the middle of his apartment.

"It would explain why I never found Ben or Vanya among the rest of your bodies." Five states sometime after Vanya is filled in on the whole stopping the world from ending shin ding.

Klaus doesn't ever meet her eyes the entire time they talk; skirting around the guilt laden looks she keeps shooting in his direction upon learning he was speaking the truth this whole damn time.

(Meanwhile the commission is scrambling to right this wrong, and they almost go back to save their bomb from getting hit by that car, until they realize the apocalypse is still happening)

Which is fitting, really, that where Vanya ends the world the first time, it's Klaus that ends it the second time (the commission just don't know it quite yet).

And god doesn't that just suck to know he was the cause of his brother's suffering, even if the whole damn thing was nothing more than an accident.

Reginald still kicked the bucket (ding dong the abusive bastard’s dead). Harold still somehow managed to get his hands on the damn journal and was still hellbent on getting his vengeance against the umbrella academy; even without Vanya by his side.

With his living siblings distracted in their fight against Harold and the commission (still believing that Harold is the fuse somehow in all this chaos), Klaus is still kidnapped, tortured and forced to go cold turkey (but this time it's because he knows too much, Hazel and Cha Cha being sent out to find out how Klaus even knew about the apocalypse in the first place). He still gets saved in the end, still ends up back in time alone, fighting in a war because he was too scared to use the briefcase again and end up somewhere far worse. He still gains and then loses the love of his life (his Dave, his everything). Still dies, talks to dear old daddy and comes back--to the land of the living where his dead siblings all hover worriedly around him.

And all of this spirals with Klaus being absolutely and utterly done with everyone's shit: with the added scary bonus of secondary powers he didn't realize he even had (nor can control) due to said cold turkey experience.

In the end Harold really was the fuse, and the world is ended because his ghostly siblings couldn't penetrate the fog of Klaus' panic attack to calm him down (a panic attack induced by a mix of PTSD, the complete lack of faith his living siblings still have in him, and the resulting battle that ensues as Harold strikes the mansion).

His already uncontrollable telekinesis goes ballistic when the mansion explodes from C-4 Harold had planted around the block. He doesn't see the fighting that results from it, he doesn't see Luther rip Harold's eye out either (an eye he gained from pissing off the wrong people at the wrong time in his incarceration). All he hears is the fighting, the loud explosions, and the crumbling of the building around him. All he can smell is the smoke. All he can feel is the heat of the flames as they begin to lick teasingly at his skin and before he knows it, he finds himself back in that god forsaken jungle.

And so, ends all of ‘something’.

it's not a moon chunk to end everything in a fiery blaze of death, but an earthquake as Klaus' power unintentionally shifts the tectonic plates enough to set off every volcano in the world (dormant or otherwise).

Oh well.

C'est la vie

What will be, will be.

[stuck-in-hawkins]

When He Left: Chapter 1 October 28th, 1993

Stranger Things Fanfic: Byeler

Rated: Teen and Up

Summary: Will looked back to see Mike at the gate, his forced smile starting to crumble. Will had managed to get the chance of a lifetime: a scholarship to an arts college in California. He would be there among the monster makers of the movie industry. He was pursuing his dream, but what was he giving up in exchange?

It has been four years since Will left Hawkins. Everybody went in their own separate directions. But it has been 10 years since the Gate opened and Will's nightmares are getting worse. So, the party reunites and old feelings ignite.

link to read on ao3

October 28th, 1993

Will felt the sunlight across his face and opened his eyes. The covers were insulating the heat from him and the man laying beside him. That thick mop of black hair, the curvature of his tan back. Will reached out and traced the muscles beneath.

Ishaan stirred. Will thought, “Don’t wake up, don’t wake up.” He laid perfectly still. But alas, the man turned over and looked at Will, still groggy but the blanket of sleep quickly wearing off.

Will spoke softly, “Sorry I woke you. I was just gonna make breakfast.”

The man looked away and mumbled, “I have to get to work.”

There it was. The shame. Ishaan was a flame that Will seemed to keep flying back to. He was exactly his type. Tall, beautiful, and incapable of committing to a relationship. They were drawn to each other.

Ishaan was still very much in the closet. But he would come to clubs. He loved that Will had this quiet, inviting exterior. He’d actually told him this. That Will was safe. He wasn’t “that” gay. That he could pass as straight.

Ishaan had no idea about Will’s occasional drag nights.

Ishaan grabbed his clothes quickly with a speed Will had become familiar with. Will had hoped he could open Ishaan’s eyes, and help him learn to love and accept himself for who he was. But when the morning light came, so did the shame. Will embodied all the things Ishaan didn’t want to face and he would put as much distance between him as he could.

Will put on his pj bottoms and walked down the hallway in time to see Ishaan throw on his jacket.

“Ishaan.”

Eye contact.

“Someday, I’d love to have breakfast with you.”

Will could see him try to swallow a lump in his throat.

“I’m sorry, Will.” He opened the door and walked out.

Will padded his way to the kitchen, and opened the fridge, looking at the eggs and bacon sitting inside. He felt deflated. He could feel a familiar tug, trying to pull him back to bed so that he could curl under the covers. But he knew that if he did that, he’d lose the day. And it seemed like a beautiful one to waste. He turned to the window and cranked the handle, opening them. The air was fresh and warmed from the sun.

Will brought out the eggs, bacon, toast, and butter. He’d remembered feeling the same way Ishaan had. He remembered when he first came to the city in college and kept his identity confined to the night. He used to have a similar elitism, trying to separate himself from gay men that seemed especially feminine, doing anything he could to distance himself from the stereotypes that plagued his sexuality. But going to group helped with that. He opened his mind to become more accepting. He even experimented in his identity and found freedom in the exploration.

He cracked the egg into a bowl. Ishaan hadn’t wanted to go to any of the groups Will recommended. He was in denial. He picked up another egg. He thought, 'You're just something he craves.'

Crack.

“Damnit.” He’d gotten eggshells in the mix. He picked them out. Will was beginning to realize that it would take a lot of soul searching for Ishaan to accept himself. Something Will couldn’t help him with. How long would it take? How many more mornings did he have to watch him run out the door?

Will turned on the stove and let the butter simmer while he whisked the eggs together. Dustin’s words rang in his head.

‘You deserve to be more than someone’s secret.’ Dustin didn’t mince words but he was right. And it just seemed like Will was always drawn to the type that didn’t want to come out.

He heard a door open. Dustin groggily walked in from the hallway. “You are a Godsend. Is that eggs I smell?”

Will smiled. “And bacon will be next.”

“Screw all these other guys. Marry me.”

“Pretty sure there are some terms and conditions you wouldn’t be up for there.”

“Forget them. I’ll do all the butt stuff. Just make me eggs every day.”

Will threw the dish towel at him.

Dustin got the grounds out and started making coffee. “Your man-friend still here?”

Will shook his head.

“That’s too bad. He’s missing out on an awesome breakfast.” He smiled, “And some great company.”

Will smirked. He loved living with Dustin.

___________________________

After breakfast Will got ready for work. It was Sunday and he knew he didn’t have to go in, but he needed a reason to get out of the flat. He didn’t want to sit alone, pining for Ishaan. Will could feel that it was ending. It was a transition that he’d done before. It felt all too familiar but still hurt.

The worst part was seeing them months later, out, proud, and in a relationship. He’d be happy for them, but then he’d wonder. Why hadn’t it been with him? Why wasn’t he enough? Why did it seem like they only changed after he left?

But then, again, he knew that wasn’t always true. There were guys that never came out. Like Hartford, who had a wife and kids that were completely unaware of his Friday escapades. Dating him, being his side piece, was a low point for Will.

And then of course…. There had also been Mike.

‘Nope,’ Will thought. He shut down that train of thought and brought out his sketchbook. He needed to distract himself with a project. Studio time helped with that. After all this time, he still had a weakness with Mike. He’d made his peace with pretty much every guy after. But with him, there was a tenderness that had never faded. And if he thought about Mike when he was like this, in the throes of rejection, he’d fall to pieces.

He grabbed his headphones out of his bag as the Metro carried him across town to his stop. These days, his Walkman turned mostly Sonic Youth albums. Today it was Dreamnation. He got off and headed to The WereHouse.

It was a prop house popular among the independent filmmakers and even the occasional large studio. It was owned by two brothers. One ran the historical prop store, located in another part of town. That shop was mostly a gallery of antiques from all different periods, some originals, some reproductions. That had been where Will had gotten his start, running around thrift stores, estate sales, and antique shops trying to find period correct pieces for their inventory.

But when his boss saw Will’s sketchbook, he got transferred to The WereHouse. The other brother’s creative dungeon of fantasy, sci-fi, and horror props and prosthetics. Will was living his dream, getting to make monsters for movies. Though… most of his work consisted of prop dummies that ended up being burned, buried, or otherwise mutilated. Some weeks were spent meticulously painting disembodied limbs, fingers, and heads. Occasionally larger more creative opportunities arose, like the one he was working on now.

The whole project was very hush hush. When studios put out work like this, they were looking for more than monsters: they were looking for talent. Will was pouring in extra hours because getting this deal would mean he’d be part of something big. It wouldn’t just be low cost props for independent filmmakers. They’d have the backing of a studio. It meant potentially being a part of the next blockbuster.

He could be responsible for the next Xenomorph. The idea was both terrifying and elating. As a result, he spent most of his days either drawing or sculpting with the occasional break to eat and sleep. But it took his mind off of the trials and failures of his love life.

He opened the door and nodded to Anderson, who manned the reception desk. He was currently nose deep in the novel, Dune.

Will walked through the vestibule, where some of the past projects were displayed and made his way through the giant room with shelves scraping the ceiling. One row consisted of nothing but body parts: From whole limbs and torsos to severed fingers and toes. On another row, there was a treasure trove of cursed objects: elvish daggers, cauldrons of all different sizes, stitched leather books, crystals of every color.

Will remembered how awestruck he was the first time he came here… well, honestly for the few months. Now, it was just a part of his life. He’d still get these moments of “I can’t believe I’m working my dream job.” But it had become his new norm. He wished the whole party could see it. Dustin had completely lost his shit when he saw it. But they were the only two of the party in Burbank.

Not for long, though. Lucas was nearly finished his last year in the Navy, and Dustin had been pulling every string he could to make sure Lucas got a position as an engineer at the company he worked for, AECOM. Max has been living with her dad on the coast the past few years. Despite being in the same state, she was still about five hours away. Once Lucas was back on shore, there was a chance of them getting back together and her moving closer. But she had that software job and it was more likely Lucas would move up to her.

Over the years, Will had tried to convince Mike to come over to the coast, to get out of Hawkins. Maybe if the rest of them were together, that would be enough to change his mind.

Will walked into the studio, a large space lined with workbenches and cork boards. Mannequins, busts, and chairs for prosthetics and monster makeup were scattered around the room. And the whole space smelled of curing latex, acrylic paint, and plasticine clay. He sat down at the spot reserved for him, that had pictures tacked up as inspiration, along with a multitude of sketches. And there on the bench was a little model, about a foot high, that he had been carving out and tweaking all week. This was the 3rd version.

The studio was looking to create a new kind of monster. Normally, the producer or director would give some parameters of guidelines. But this one was an open book, which meant it was an audition of sorts. Will looked at his board.

In truth, it wasn’t the monster that was terrifying. It was the world the writer built, the atmosphere the director created. The actors, who made the audience care about the characters on the screen. Even the best monster design could be undone with poor timing, shoddy lighting, or terrible acting. They were all vital components of the final product. Once the audience cared about the world, about the characters, they would become invested. Will’s mind began to ponder.

The scariest parts about everything he experienced was the fear of losing it all. Of never seeing his mom, brother, or friends again. Of being alone at the end. Nothing had been more terrifying than losing himself to the mind flayer. To feel his words and body being driven by another. The most terrifying monsters were the ones that you didn’t see. The ones that transformed characters you loved from human to monster.

Will took pictures of his miniature model as it was. He always did before destroying it. Then, he squished the sculpted figure, wedged the clay back into a ball. From there he began the shaping of a human figure. But he arched the back, as if the body was fighting against itself. Where the spine was, legs that were like spiders but out of bone emerged. The muscle tearing at itself, reattaching to the new limbs. The most frightening monster was the one you watched yourself become.

Art was cathartic. It was how he processed everything. It was what got him through the worst parts of college. It gave him power and strength. He had control over his nightmares now. He could create them and destroy them with his own two hands.

In so many ways, coming to California saved him. He learned methods to cope with his identity, with his trauma. He was in a new place where there were less things to trigger flashbacks. The fear didn’t rule his life like it once had. There were days he questioned whether it was all even real. But, lately, he could feel himself backsliding. His nightmares were getting more vivid. They were trying to claw their way into his life here. They held on tighter so that it was harder to wake up. Sometimes, he forgot them as soon as he woke up. He'd be in a cold sweat, the fear shaking him, and he couldn't remember a thing. He was relieved that Ishaan had stayed the night. Having someone beside him seemed to keep the nightmares at bay. This week, he dreamt about the Mind Flayer, about being trapped inside his own head. He remembered sending his friends the code to close the gate. He knew what it meant. He had been resigned to it. It was a cost he had been willing to pay to ensure that the Shadow Monster would be dead for good. He woke up in tears at how willing he had been to accept his death. He cried at all the things he would have lost and felt relief to be alive.

It was because his family managed to pull it from him. His party refused to leave him behind.

He sculpted the man’s pained face. He hoped that if this movie got made, that they’d save the man. That the characters would be as heroic as his friends had been. _____________________________________

Will got off the metro, exhausted, both mentally and physically. Eight hours in a chair, bent over his desk and sculpting, did a number on his back.

He was still listening to Sonic Youth so he didn’t hear the chatter as he reached his floor. He didn’t hear the laughter when he put the keys in the lock. He didn’t hear the voice of the man that used to make his stomach flutter. If he had, he would have prepared himself. He would have made sure to tuck his heart in his chest, instead of on his sleeve.

But alas, he opened the door unsuspecting and the sound he made betrayed himself. It held in it all the love he felt in seeing him again.

“Mike.”

[centuryofdean]

Of Food and Comfort - Part 3

Author Disclaimer:: Marvel and its characters are not mine. I take no credit. Instead I claim the maybe not so great plot, writing and characteristics of the reader insert character. I am not a die hard Marvel fan, I haven’t read all the comics, but have watched the movies. I may get some things wrong, so please don’t hate me. I also have been incorporating Old Norse as terms of endearment.

Summary:: You worked for Tony Stark as a…mechanic of sorts. Anything around the Avengers compound that needed a technicians touch, you handled. With working and living there, you had grown to be friendly with the super heroes. Of course you had grown to have feelings for one of them. The muscled Thunder God to be exact.

Rated:: M for Mature. Please do not read this story unless you are 18+. At this point in the story there isn’t much, but later on the M rating will come into effect.

Warnings:: Language and Scenes of Sexual Nature

Pairing:: Thor x Reader

Christmas was looming up faster than you were expecting. You made it a point to get everyone on base a gift, even if it was something small. Though, what do you get super heroes, who have anything they could want because of Tony Stark? What do you even get Tony Stark?

You had made plans with Wanda to go shopping in town for gifts. Liam tried to tag along, but you refused and insisted it was a girl’s trip.

That was the plan anyway.

Vision invited Wanda to go see some of the Christmas lights out in the suburbs and the woman could hardly turn him down. She had been harboring feelings for him for ages, you would feel guilty to deny her that.

So, as you were getting your coat on to head out, Thor invited himself along. And you could hardly turn him down.

Ever since that night Liam came over for dinner, Thor stuck around. It had been a couple weeks, but he seemed to be more interested in spending time with you than before. This isn’t something you were complaining about, but just confused—why the turn around?

Liam had popped by the base a few times since Thanksgiving. He had also pointed out that Thor was very touchy-feely with you—and he didn’t like it. When he first brought it up, you tried to think if it were true. As far as you could remember since the beginning of your friendship with Thor there had always been hugs, soft touches of the shoulder and even sitting side by side on the couch. Neither you nor Thor were doing anything different than normal from what you could tell. It actually seemed like anytime Liam came around Thor would suddenly make himself scarce. You assured Liam that the God was no more than a friend—even if deep down you wish it were a lie.

Thor was just amazed a Midgardian could lift his hammer. Your almost boyfriend still made it known he didn’t like you spending time with the blonde hero. Tough luck though, because he was your friend and you wouldn’t lose your mind over a man you had only been seeing for two months.

“Do you celebrate Christmas in Asgard,” you asked. Thor had promised you to go to the mystical realm as a reward for lifting his hammer. Though he might have forgotten by now. You had drank so much that night, you thought it a dream until Sam said something about it the next day.

Thor maneuvered out of the car from the passenger seat to meet you in the snow-covered parking lot.

“We celebrate Yuletide, which from my understanding is similar. Time for family and friends, enjoy the company of others. Be thankful and grateful for those around you,” he rumbled softly.

“Well do you exchange gifts?”

His brow furrowed, “No. Children sometimes receive gifts, if they prepare an offering.”

You were about to inquire about the offering, when the snow and ice below took your gravity. Thankfully Thor was there to grasp your arm to prevent the fall. Once you were righted, he kept his arm around your back to guide your way.

The heat filled your cheeks at the intimacy. The comforting warmth of his arm wrapped around your shoulders was very welcome. This man was nearly everything you could have dreamed of and more. “Well,” you cleared your throat, “I am getting gifts for our friends. That is what we are shopping for.”

Inside the large mall it was easy to be looked over. Yes, Thor got a few glances and you could see some people snapping a picture or two on their smart phones. Oh well, it was bound to happen even if he wasn’t an Avenger—the man was gorgeous.

You pulled out your small notepad with a list of names. It took a few scribbles and ideas, but there was something for everyone on your list. Except Thor. Next to his name was blank space, because you couldn’t think of what to get him. Shortly after you made the list, you became inspired to knit him a sweater. Knitting was not the best skill you possessed, but you could make things at least. The man loved sweaters for whatever reason, so making one would be the kindest gift to give. If worse came to worse and the sweater turned out like shit, you could buy one.

The trip was a little lengthy but enjoyable. Thor reached on high shelves for you, carried your bags and somewhat kept you out of harm’s way from the crazy shoppers. He even decided he wanted to get gifts for the others as well. The gifts he got were a little odd in choice.

For Tony he grabbed a pair of sunglasses. Natasha is going to get a pair of fuzzy socks. Steve will open a box of chocolates. The list went on. You tried to snoop but was unsuccessful in finding out what you would be receiving from him. If he bought it today, you didn’t see it. Honestly you would be lucky to receive anything from Thor at all.

At the end of the trip you had to go through the food court. The soft pretzels smelled appetizing and looked better than ever before as you passed by. Just as you were shaking your head at yourself in annoyance, Thor chuckled and gestured you to stop. “Did you want to get a pretzel schat,” he asked.

“It’s okay, there is plenty of food at the base. I don’t need—”

Thor cut you off, placing a free hand on your shoulder, “Nonsense. Let us get some.”

“Thor,” you laughed when he started to walk towards the pretzel stand. He had at least four bags on his right wrist and three more bags in his rand hand. “Those pretzels are huge; I won’t eat dinner tonight if I have one!”

After he paid for the pretzels and some dipping cheese, you both continued on your way out to the parking lot. It would be easier to eat in the car instead of sitting at a table and get stopped by other people asking for autographs or to take pictures with Thor. At least seven people had stopped him while shopping.

“I can’t eat all of this,” you moaned regretfully while savoring the beautiful taste of the salted pretzel and nacho cheese. “I will gain three pounds alone from this whole pretzel.”

Thor had already finished his, smirking at you as you ate yours. “You shouldn’t worry about weight schat,” he smiled, “you are very tiny as it is.”

You were ready to tell him about carbs and how this whole pretzel would be terrible to eat on top of everything else for the day when you paused. “You keep calling me that,” you mused. “What does it mean?”

He turned his gaze to the windshield, sighing softly when he did so. “In a way it is a compliment, it means you are the type of person who is a rarity, a very good person,” he said. A little confused, you wordlessly offered him the rest of your pretzel. Maybe you would do some Googling later.

On the way back to the base you received a call from Liam. He wanted to have you come stay the night with him. It wasn’t something that you two had done before. Ultimately you gently refused since the roads weren’t the best, and you just left the city. Feeling bad, you found yourself inviting him over, hoping he would refuse due to the weather or being uncomfortable at the base. You cringed when he agreed.

“If you do not like the mortal, why do you continue to see him,” Thor murmured softly when you came to a stop in the garage. The way he said mortal almost brought you up short. You were a mortal after all.

Stunned, you replied, “I do like Liam. I just… don’t like how pushy he is sometimes.”

“I know he does not enjoy my company,” Thor muttered, “he does not agree with our friendship.”

“That is where I draw the line. I won’t be with someone who can’t accept my friends. So do not fear big guy, I’m not kicking you to the curb yet,” you offered a small smile while getting out. “But if you don’t carry all these bags, I am reevaluating our friendship for sure.”

 The both of you were holed up in your room for little over an hour while wrapping gifts. Thor was terrible at it. More times than not, the paper ripped when he folded it, or he would try to wrap the paper around the gift like a crumbled ball. You took the time to wrap for him, but he would forget the receivers name after it was wrapped. This resulted in unwrapping a few gifts and rewrapping them.

All too soon your door opened, revealing Liam. He looked less than happy to find Thor lounged on the couch in your room, you next to him trying to show him how to wrap a gift. Thor stood slowly and excused himself from the room. It was off-putting how he just up and left. He didn’t even take the gifts he bought to put under the tree. You huffed and finished wrapping the gift. Thankfully it was the last of his and you could put them under the tree for him after you finished your own.

“Hey babe,” you smiled, “just finishing wrapping presents for everyone.”

He looked around your room, this being the second time he had ever been in it. There were shopping bags and wrapping paper everywhere. It was a mess. “I’ll be done in about twenty minutes,” you replied, “and we can grab some snacks and come back and watch movies.”

Grabbing snacks and watching movies turned into you sprawled on the couch underneath a panting Liam and his hands crawled up your waist.

Even if things were questionable with Liam, you could still get carried away.

Your hips were grinding against his softly, the evidence of his excitement pressed pleasurably to your core. Each little thrust of your hips up to his caused a small spark of heat in the pit of your stomach and a rush of wetness to pool between your thighs. After little effort your shirt was gone, and you crashed your lips back to his. Everything was getting too hot, causing a sheen layer of sweat to coat your skin. It continued for a while, the skin of your stomach and chest pressing up against Liam’s hot skin, your hands running up and down his back. It was great, until he tried to remove your bra, and you started to clam up and put a hand to his bare chest.

“I’m sorry, but I want to wait—” you started only to be cut off.

“What, until we are an ‘official’ couple? That’s the stupidest thing I have ever heard, you know that right?”

“Ugh really Liam,” you huffed and grabbed your shirt from the back of the couch. You had a small conversation with him a week ago about your status as a couple. You didn’t tell him you wanted to be together exactly but made a light comment about how you weren’t really his girlfriend, and really you weren’t. Neither of you had any conversation about becoming official, but he still didn’t even ask you then when you brought it up. You would think if he was jealous over your time spent with Thor, he would want to make you his girlfriend. Instead you told him about your whole ‘know a guy for three months’ rule you made yourself.

Sliding out from under him, you slipped it back on and zipped and buttoned your pants he undid. “Why do you have to be so difficult when I said I want to wait? It isn’t like I’m asking you to wait until marriage or some shit. It’s just a little while longer. I’m not ready yet.”

His face was hard and annoyed, sitting on your couch pissed.

“It’s frustrating,” he whispered. “You walk into my shop, gorgeous and wielding air and oil filters and I couldn’t help but want you. It feels like you’re trying to make sure that no one else wants you before you agree to be with me.”

“That’s not it at all,” you whispered. As you sat next to him, you grasped his hand and squeezed. “I just found through dating a guy for a while shows me what kind of man he is. I like to know what kind of man I’m letting in my pants.”

Liam and you cuddled on the couch with your clothes on for the rest of the night. When you both were ready to settle in for the night, he pulled off his shirt and pants to slid into your bed in just his boxer briefs. The image was more than enough to make you squirm and wonder if waiting longer would be possible.

You were a woman after all, you had needs; plus earlier he was grinding into you so well you had gotten incredibly wet and horny.

After a quick trip to your in-suite bathroom you were able to take a few calming breaths and set yourself straight. If Liam is worth it, he will wait for you to be ready to take that step with him. Even if you had needs you wouldn’t make a decision you were going to regret later.

It was one night of cuddling, what could go wrong?

Previous Chapter << Part 2: Thanksgiving Feast

Next Chapter >> Part 4: Promise Cookies

Tag List:

@lancsnerd @jumpingmanatee

[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 120

Chapter Summary -

And so the alum is released, how will Tom and Danielle act?

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

I am not one to dwell on the past and those in it, but when Reputation was released in November, you know it had to be checked and reported to Tom regarding its content.

All image rights belong to their owners

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog​ @jessibelle-nerdy-mum​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @damalseer​ @hiddlesbitch1​ @winterisakiller @fairlightswiftly​ @salempoe​ @wolfsmom1

‘Hey,’ Danielle walked into the kitchen with a smile on her face, which fell when she looked at the concerned look on Tom’s face. ‘What?’

Tom swallowed slightly as Luke cleared his throat. ‘The new album is out.’

‘And?’ She asked, folding her arms and bracing for the worst.

‘Well, there are a few references.’

‘Are they defamatory?’ Danielle asked.

‘No, but they are not pleasant.’

‘Well, she is hardly going to be pleasant, is she? That’s not her style, “I’m a victim, I am so lovely and the big bad men hurted me” is more her style.’ She put on a pathetic whiny voice as she spoke. ‘I bet Kardashian and the husband got it worse though.’

‘They did, and the press. Apparently, her songs are about no one and the press and people try to make it about her and people she is somewhat connected to.’ Luke scoffed.

‘Give me a line that proves otherwise.’

‘She references men with Jaguars and Range Rovers.’ Luke looked at some of the lyrics on the sheet.

‘What does Harris drive?’ Danielle already knew the answer.

‘A Range Rover.’ Tom confirmed.

‘Wow, shocking. “I reference things but don’t want to be accused of it being about anyone”. She really needs to grow the fuck up. Either say “Yes, I do sing about these things, and?” or actually keep away from it all, she comes across as a fool otherwise when it clear she is lying, but let’s face it, she was caught doing that before.’

‘Have you heard any of the songs?’ Tom asked.

‘No, I didn’t even know this pile of trash was out, why, should I have?’

‘The first song was released today.’

‘Please tell me it’s ridiculous. What is the album even called?’ She looked at the title on the page. “Reputation” Yeah, she’s building one of those alright.’

‘The song is called “Look What You Made Me Do,” Luke informed her.

Danielle paused for a moment, her eyebrows raised. ‘Is there a reason she titled a song after something abusive people say? That gives me the creeps. I have had to deal with a woman that had her jaw broken, her cheekbone broken and her eye swollen shut by a guy who yelled those words at her as he was being dragged away in a police car. She is mental. She is actually implying she’s abusive?’

‘I don’t think so. The lyrics are implying other people making her have to do stuff.’

‘Yeah, abusers do that too, imply the actions of others are why they do the shit they do. Highly narcissistic,’ Danielle growled, taking the groceries out of the bag she brought. ‘Where are the dogs?’

‘Outside, Mac is teaching Bobby in the ways of staring at birds hoping for them to fall out of a tree.’ Tom informed her. Seeing she was annoyed by everything, he walked over and rubbed her arms. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Annoyed, pissed off and angry that someone makes a living out of being an utter cunt to others. So many good songwriters can actually go an album without this shit.’ She growled before shaking her head. ‘I am glad this happened here, I just need to spit about it for a minute and I will go back to normal.’ She sighed before looking at Luke. ‘What’s the worst of it?’

‘Getaway Car.’ He stated getting to the page in question. ‘It’s a song that implies she is in an unhappy relationship and she uses another man to get out of it, but it was only a pitstop relationship, it was only to get rid of the first guy, it was only ever that from the start.’

‘Classy. So much for being a strong independent woman if you cannot even leave a relationship like an adult.’ She looked at Tom. ‘How many more relationships are you going to be accused of ruining?’ She scoffed. ‘I’ll have to keep an eye on you.’

Tom smiled at her attempt at humour, ‘Yes.’

‘How do you feel?’

‘Embarrassed, annoyed, as to be expected. Most of her focus seems to be on others, but it still is hurtful, to me, you Mum, Em and Sarah, we are all facing this now, I brought this on us.’

Danielle rubbed his arm. ‘She chose to do this, you took an adult approach to a break-up, she did not show the same courtesy.’ She then walked over to Luke with her hand extended, the publicist handed her the pages with the song lyrics on them, the parts suspected to be about Tom were highlighted. She scanned them and frowned. ‘She’s losing her touch, her whole chorus is literally “Look What You Made Me Do” no other words. Oasis, U2, Michael Jackson, and Prince she is not.’ She threw it down again. ‘I hope her voice is better autotuned this time. Would anyone else like a cup of tea?’ She asked.

Luke looked at Tom half in concern but seeing the other man smile slightly. Tom realised that Danielle was not overly bothered by it all anymore and was just moving on with the day. ‘Tea for me Darling, Luke is a coffee man.’

‘Okay. There are fresh hobnobs in the bag and I got a duck for dinner.’ She stated as she got the cafetiere out of the press for Luke.

‘Lovely.’ Tom smiled, going over to the bag to retrieve the biscuits. ‘We have been found to be house-hunting as well by the way.’

‘How many weeks pregnant am I?’

‘Not showing yet, but the winter jackets could be hiding it.’ Luke chuckled.

‘Good to know. I feel like almost going and getting a fake bump from a set to fuck with them. Nacelle offered and everything.’

Tom laughed. ‘That would screw with them alright.’

‘Please warn me in advance when you do that.’ Luke pleaded.

‘“When”?’ Danielle asked with a smirk.

‘You have a streak to you that I would imagine would cause you to seriously consider it.’

‘Aw, Luke, I believe you are actually getting to know me.’ Danielle laughed. She passed him a mug and the coffee. ‘Nah, it’s too much bother, it did cross my mind though. So what is the general consensus on that?’

‘That we are looking at a house worth four million belonging to Michael McIntyre.’ Tom grinned and folded his arms as he awaited her reaction.

Danielle stared blankly at him. ‘Four…..Four million? I nearly lost the plot at two million, I’d need to be anointed if you brought me to a place for that, what would you even buy for that, the Darcy house in Pride and Prejudice?’

‘A lot of the manor houses are in terrible condition, so they probably would go for that.’ Luke shrugged.

‘What the absolute fuck made them think that?’ Danielle asked.

‘Well, the “source” is a friend of mine that I apparently told, and they mentioned it.’

‘Did you tell anyone?’

‘Ben, Jeremy and Luke.’

‘Hardly three gossips.’

‘People hear titbits of our conversations and assume the rest.’ Tom dismissed. ‘It doesn’t matter in general, only I thought I ought to tell you.’

‘Well yes, given my current condition, I cannot risk the stress of not knowing and it being dumped on me.’ Danielle rolled her eyes. ‘Are people actually that obsessed with you procreating?’

‘It is my own fault, I mentioned watching Jungle Book with my kids someday in an interview and they all are mad about it since.’ Tom shrugged. ‘No pressure on you.’

‘Clearly not.’ She scoffed. ‘I am going to let you two gentlemen get on with whatever you need to do and I am going to be boring and get some stuff done.’ She smiled going to the back door. ‘Come on you two fuzzbutts, get in and leave that poor chaffinch alone.’ The dogs immediately rushed over to her. ‘Come on, into the living room with me.’ She took her cup of tea that Tom was holding out for her and smiled at him before going into the other room, the two dogs following after her, though Bobby stopped at Tom or a moment and sat, hoping for a rub, on receiving it, he rushed after Danielle and Mac again before Danielle went out of sight.

‘That went as well as can be expected.’ Luke commented.

‘She is fine, once she is allowed a minute to be annoyed, I said as much.’

‘Yes, it is odd she calmed so quickly.’

‘She is not calm, she’s very much annoyed, but she cannot bottle it in, if she did, she would probably be five times angrier later. If she hadn’t already gone running today, she would be gone out now.’ He informed his friend. ‘But she has work to do, so she is going to focus on that now.’

‘How is she doing with work?’

‘Busy as hell, but she is a business partner now, so that is par for the course, right?’ Tom smiled. ‘She insists on doing everything she can from here and is looking into getting a fax machine for here too to minimise what she has to do in the office.’

‘Is she here quite a bit then?’

‘Most days of the week, because of the dogs more than anything.’ Tom smiled. ‘Another reason we need a bigger place, she needs a proper office.’

‘I ended up with a one-bedroom apartment making my second one an office, it does make life easier.’ Luke concurred. ‘See if her company will okay it as an expense, she could get it for nothing then.’

‘I will mention that to her.’ Tom smiled. ‘Now, what was this about a schedule?’

*

An hour later, Danielle came into the kitchen with paperwork in her hand and went over to preheat the oven. It was only after she got the duck out of the fridge that she realised the two men were still talking. ‘I am not after walking in on private Infinity War stuff, am I?’

‘No, nothing private, just dates and premiers.’ Tom smiled.

‘Okay, nothing too bad so,’ She sighed in relief as she continued to prepare the meat, noting the sheer amount of pages and dates on them. ‘It looks busy.’ She noted.

‘It is, it is utter insanity how much of it there is.’ Tom commented, Luke nodding in agreement.

‘When is the first trailer hitting?’ She enquired

‘Soon enough apparently, again, they are not telling us, but around the end of this month, start of next month.’ Tom smirked.

‘God, this is going to be something else.’ Danielle smiled. ‘How many of ye are without further contracts so far?’

‘We don’t know, we are all not allowed say, even to each other. Chris wants to move on though, as you know, he said that when we were talking to him. The others, I cannot say for sure. Ben is still contracted.’

‘Well, they left the whole situation at the end with Baron Mordo that needs to be addressed in the Strange movie.’ Danielle commented as she cut up an orange. ‘Adding Iron Man to Spiderman would make things interesting too, but it depends on what happens in the next two Avenger Movies. Damn it, I hate waiting.’

Tom chuckled. ‘If it is any consolation, we don’t know what happens other cast members, only ourselves.’

‘And anyone who you witness die.’

‘True actually, yes.’ Tom conceded. ‘But let’s face it, Loki survived how many deaths now, others could do the same.’

‘Yes, we have Black Panther to go to soon as well, that will be great.’

‘I had not realised that you are an actual Marvel fan.’ Luke stated.

‘Yeah, DC and Marvel were huge as cartoons when I was a kid, Spiderman, X-Men, Batman, Superman, it wasn’t Saturday or Sunday morning without the TV on with them on it.’ She smiled.

‘True actually.’ Luke conceded.

‘Elle, how long will that take to cook?’

‘About an hour and a half, I’d say, why? Will you be done?’ The men looked at one another and shook their heads. ‘Have you dinner plans this for evening, Luke?’

‘No,’ He said unsurely.

‘Wonderful, do you like duck?’

‘Yes, he does.’ Tom smiled. ‘You don’t mind?’

‘I am cooking anyway, what’s a few more potatoes or a bit of extra vegetables. What I will do is get my stuff and the dogs out of the living room and you two go in there and that way you can talk more without the sound of me clanging pots and pans.’

‘Elle, thank you, Darling, but it is just dates and other such things.’ Tom dismissed. ‘Work away.’

She said no more and did as required to ready the meal. With only a short time to go before it was ready, Tom went to the bathroom for a moment. ‘You do not mind my being here, do you?’ Luke asked.

‘Not at all, you are more than his publicist, you are his friend.’ Danielle dismissed.

‘But you and I do not know too great a deal about one another.’

‘No, but surely the best way to rectify that is to actually spend time in one another’s company.’

‘That is again, true.’ Luke chuckled as she offered him a wine glass. ‘Red, please.’

‘You’re not driving, are you?’

‘No, Tom drove me here, I will get a taxi back.’

‘I am not going to drink, I can drop you if he decides to.’ Danielle smiled as she got a nice red wine and opened it for him.

‘You are an incredibly healthy mature person, do you know that?’ Luke stated out of the blue, causing Danielle to look at him with her brows raised. ‘I mean that in a good way, I swear. You trust and respect Tom’s space.’

‘He has never given me reason to not trust it. If he says he is going out and will be back soon, he is; if he says he needs space for whatever reason, usually work, he is never far away. He does not stay away overnight when “going out with friends”. He has never come home covered in lipstick and love bites, so I don’t care.’

‘Or perfume.’

‘No, he has come home with a smell of that on him, because people hug him with perfume on, that is just the nature of his work, it does not mean there is anything untoward going on.’

‘Do you know, there are women that all but stick to their partners at premiers and sets. It is fascinating to watch when it does not involve your clients.’

‘I would actually love to watch that.’ Danielle laughed. ‘But that is so incredibly unhealthy. That, I would imagine, does nothing but urge a wandering partner. Plus could you imagine being stuck in each other’s pockets all the time.’

‘Or making scenes at events.’

‘I couldn’t do it to you. You’ve suffered enough.’ Danielle smiled.

��Thank you. At least you are considerate of my health.’ Luke grinned in return.

[elysianswoo]

Reach For The Calm | Part II

Genre: friends to lovers!au | fluff | angst

Member: Mark x Reader

Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 2 600

Part 1

The day had gone by exactly how Mark wanted it. Being able to spend the day by your side wasn’t anything new, but it was something the birthday boy treasured. However, you wouldn’t let him spend the entire day glued to your side. Once the sun went down, you dragged him along to the apartment complex of your friend Jaemin. At the rooftop of his apartment, you and 6 other guys had planned a surprising night full of laughter and cake. Even though Mark wanted to spend the night by your side, he couldn’t say he was disappointed about having all of his closest friends at one place. Reaching the rooftop, you both went your separate ways to greet the people there. You stayed by Yeri's and Joy's side, knowing Mark was doing fine by the giggles emitted from his tight-knit group of friends.  

“So mark, are you gonna tell her soon?” Jeno asked, nudging Marks arm to gain his attention. It also gained the attention of the rest of the group, who also wanted an answer to Jeno’s question. “tell who what?” Mark played dumb, having obviously understood what the boy meant. This received an eye roll from Renjun “dude, don’t act like you don’t know. Y/n, are you gonna tell her how you feel soon?” Mark was clearly feeling uncomfortable at the sudden interrogation, and the boys knew that when he tried changing the subject, however, to no avail. “if you’re not going to own up to your feelings, you should stop looking at her like a sad puppy every other second” Mark gave the boys a confused look “I don’t?? Oh, shit I do” The birthday boy gave them all a wide-eyed panicked look, only gaining chuckles in return.  

“Just confess dude, it’s not that hard” Donghyuck remarked, with a shrug of his shoulders. That seemed to be the end of the conversation as Jaemin suddenly started talking about a new game he saw at the store. But Mark couldn’t seem to bring himself back to the conversation, having Donghyuck’s comment ringing in the back of his head. Mark knew it wasn’t as easy to confess your feelings to your best friend as Donghyuck made it out to be, but there was a little voice in his head saying but what if it is.  

The night dragged on until the sun was about to retouch the horizon. Most of the guests had left by now, taking the soft giggles and jokes with them. It was only you, Mark, Jaemin and Jeno left on the rooftop. The four of you stayed laying on your backs looking up at the sky that’s now turning a soft blue. “well we're gonna head to bed now guys, you can stay for as long as you'd like though, y/n has a spare key” and with that the night had left only you and Mark on its way out.  

“Hey Mark” you say, still staring up at the sky, the boy lets out a hum telling you that he’s listening. “Are you okay? You’re so quiet, kind of distant” you question him. This makes Mark sit up, still having his eyes plastered on the sky he takes a moment before answering “I’m fine y/n, don’t worry” he looks back at you smiling. But that answer, and that smile, only made you worry more.  

You can’t say you worried for no reason, had it been three weeks since Mark's birthday and you were positive that the boy was avoiding you. Neglecting your movie nights or lunch plans, it seemed like he was spending most of his time at Jaemins place. Not that you minded that, you could do without your movie nights, but once he started answering your text with brief, dry responses, as well as rejecting your every attempt at meeting up with him, you could tell that something wasn’t right. Having barely seen him for three weeks you started to wonder if you had done something to aggravate the boy. But at last you decided to give him some space.

Mark, the poor boy had basically been living with Jaemin for the past three weeks, he was nothing less of a mess. And the host had had enough of it. Jaemin didn’t mind Mark staying over at his place, as a matter of fact he was happy about the company the other boy provided. But he could begin to sense the downfall of his friend’s mood and the moping had to stop.  

“Mark, for how long are you planning on avoiding y/n" Jaemin said while turning off the TV resulting in a whine from the older boy. “I don’t know what you mean, I’m not avoiding her” mark says. “Mark for fucks sake, what are you doing this for? If you keep going at it, you’re gonna lose her.” Jaemin knew the words he was letting out were harsh, but the other boy had to hear it. However, he wasn’t expecting Mark to chuckle at his comment.  

“But what if I lose her anyways huh? What if I let my feelings slip? What if she rejects the fuck out of me? What if she never wants to see me again? What would I do then?” Marks voice comes out more like a whisper at the end and Jaemin gives the boy an exhausted look, hating to see his best friend in this condition.  

“I’m sorry dude, but are you dumb? Are you actually dumb?” this time Jaemin lets out a laugh, much to Mark’s surprise. Before Mark can defend himself, Jaemin’s at it again. “no not dumb actually, more like blind. Bro you need glasses” “excuse me but-“ mark interferes “no Mark shut up, listen, in what world does it look like y/n would ever leave you? We can all see the way she looks at you, so why can’t you?” Jaemin pushes his hair back with an exaggerated sigh as he looks over at the older boy who seems to have taken a deep interest in the seams of the blanket on his lap.

“She looks at me like a friend” he whispers. “Mark, she doesn’t. She looks at you like you hold the key to the entire universe, like you have the answer to life. She looks at you with her eyes brimming with love, and don’t even get me started on the way she smiles whenever we even mention your name” when Mark finally looks up from his lap his face is covered in a red hue, and Jaemin can’t decide if it’s the result of embarrassment or unshed tears. “get your head out of your ass mark and go get your girl.”

After the conversation, Mark was basically kicked out of Jaemin’s place. The boy asked if he needed a ride home but Mark opted for the walk since he needed some time to clear his head. It’s gonna be okay mark, he thought to himself on the way home. The weather seemed to share his gloomy mood, as the sky was covered in grey clouds, he could tell it was going to rain soon. What Mark didn’t see coming was the way the sky lit up with sharp lights every other minute, followed by a loud bang. He rushed home in an attempt to avoid the rain, but the boy was still a soaking mess once he reached his front door.  

There was just one problem, it wasn’t his door. Rather he was standing at the door of the girl he was trying his best to avoid, and without even knowing it he rang the doorbell. And then there you stood, a surprised look on your face, that quickly morphed worry for the soaking boy at your door step. “Mark, what are you doing out there, god, come inside.” You ushered him in, dragging him to the bathroom, you told him to take a quick shower while you grabbed him some clothes. Mark had a whole lot of clothes spread around your room, so finding him some dry clothes wasn’t that hard. “Mark, I placed the clothes on the other side, come to the living room when you’re ready ok?”  

You were absorbed in the ending of the movie you had put on. However, your attention was quickly diverted to the now dry boy when you felt the couch dip. “here, I’ll put on something else” Mark was quick to stop you though, grabbing your hand before it reached the remote “no it’s fine, you can finish the movie” then let go of your hand after the short comment, but you chose to not listen to him. Grabbing the remote you put on one of the shows you always watched when the weather was bad earning you a chuckle from the boy “always so stubborn” to which you gave a glare. It seemed like things were back to normal, and none of you mentioned the three weeks without contact.

A few episodes and two popcorn bags later, the weather didn’t seem to get any better. In fact, it seemed to have gotten worse with time. The sky lit up more often and the bangs had gotten closer, you could also hear the wind hitting the windows frequently. You had never been a fan of weather like this, when some people found comfort in the sound of rain hitting the ground and the atoms in the sky reacting to each other, you were just filled with anxiety waiting for the worst to happen. You never knew where this fear originated having never experienced anything bad during a storm. Actually, it was always the opposite. Mark learned about your fear of storms at a young age, and he always made it his mission to distract you to the fullest, would it be with cuddles or a movie didn’t matter. So maybe that’s why he suddenly showed up at your door after 3 weeks of minimal contact.  

The eerie atmosphere the storm brought seemed only to get worse, because now in the middle of an episode the power chose to go out, leaving you and Mark in complete darkness. Anything worse than a storm, was a storm in the dark. “Hey y/n, you okay? I’m right here okay, don’t be afraid” mark said reaching out for your hand he gripped it tightly giving it a light squeeze. “can you wait here for a second? Put your phone flashlight on okay? I’m just gonna go get some candles” you did as instructed while Mark went to look for the candles you always had locked away somewhere. He returned with a handful, as well as a lighter. You never knew if you preferred the darkness or a room filled with tiny flames, but at last you didn’t complain about it.  

“You don't seem as afraid of storms anymore?” Mark questioned. “oh no I am, but lately I guess there’s other things that are more frightening" you could feel Mark’s eyes on you, but you did your best at avoiding eye contact. “like what” he whispered making you suck in a breath.  

You don’t know for how long you held it in, finally breathing out once you felt Mark’s hand on your cheek, wiping away some of the tears that had broken free.  

“please talk to me, tell me what’s wrong” he let out in the softest voice, making your heart a beating mess, but ignoring your heart for a second you could feel how mad you actually were at the boy that was now acting like an oblivious fool.  

“shouldn’t you know Mark?” you asked, abruptly standing up from the couch. You made eye contact with him and you could see that he was surprised by your outburst, but he quickly looked down in guilt.  

“okay fine, you wanna act like that? I’ll tell you what’s wrong Mark. What’s wrong is how you left me in the complete darkness for three fucking weeks. What’s wrong is- is how I didn’t know what was going on with you, or if I did something wrong. Like did I- did I do something to hurt you Mark? Did you get bored of me or something?”  

By the end of your rant you could feel your face burning up and tears streaming down in a rush. “and you know what’s really fucking wrong right now? It’s how you just came knocking on my door after three weeks acting like nothing had happen. Acting like you didn’t disappear like a ghost or some shit”  

You wiped away the tears from your face aggressively, letting out sniffles here and there. “I’m sorry y/n" Mark said weakly. Whatever you muttered, more to yourself but the boy heard it as clear as day.  

“no, it’s not whatever y/n, fuck I'm so sorry” the boy stood up, and started walking towards you. Stopping a step before you he reached out a hand to your arm “can I?” he asked with uncertainty dripping from every syllable. Giving him a nod, he was quick to pull you right into his chest, giving you déjà vu back to the hug shared in the kitchen, god that felt like an eternity ago.  

“I’m so sorry for being so selfish y/n, you could never do anything wrong, I could never get bored of you. I’m just so selfish, I’m selfish and a coward when it comes to my feelings, especially the ones for you” you broke away from the embrace, giving him a confused look “Mark what?”  

“listen y/n, I don’t think I could ever live without you, and after these past few weeks I frankly never want to find out. I’m just, I just love you a lot okay?” you were about to respond when he cut you off.  

“no not just that. Y/n I’m in love with you. And when I realised I chose to run away, I chose to be selfish, and you didn’t deserve that. I was just afraid of rejection, I guess. I was afraid of ruining our friendship, but I guess I did that anyways” Mark let out a bitter laugh, having not believed what he just said. Silence was the only thing filling the room, you stood there in shock at the information you’ve just been given. You didn’t know how to react or what to say so you just stood there, filling Mark up with more anxiety.  

“yeah, so you don’t need to reply or say anything back. I just felt like you deserved to know” with that Mark started pulling away, much to your dismay.  

“Mark are you actually dumb?” “okay, people keep asking me that today and it hurts” you let out a small breathy laugh.

“In what world would this ruin our friendship? Even if I didn’t feel the same way, I’m kinda hurt that you think this could break our friendship” you said. “wait what, what do you mean if you didn’t-"

“Mark” you cut him off giggling. “in what world would I reject you? I’m in love with you too, you absolute dumbass”  

The poor boy however, seemed to have stopped working, looking at you with a face full of confusion. “wait what” he repeated himself. With a roll of your eyes you grabbed at his shirt pulling him down to a point where your lips are almost touching “I’m in love with you too” you whisper, leaning in you plant a soft kiss to the boy’s lips. It took a second for Mark to process what was happening, but when he did his hand was quick to find the curve of your neck, while the other settled for softly tracing your jaw.  

Click  

“now would you look at that” Mark said pulling away. You gave out a small whine at the loss making his lips curve up at the corners. “The power’s back on” he whispered before pulling you in for a second kiss.

[hookedontaronfics]

Honky Dancer series - Chapter 1

NEW SERIES ALERT

Chapter title: Auditions Rating: M Pairing: Taron x OC Warnings: None at this time A/N: I was inspired to write a series based on the perspective of a Rocketman dancer. I hope you enjoy following a London-based dancer from her first audition run-in with Taron to maybe so much more - but don’t forget a healthy dose of drama along the way! More mature themes will develop, so be warned! Enjoy! x

“And first position … second … third … and fourth … now fifth. Good, and again.” I swept my arms gracefully through the positions my muscles knew by memory and my mind knew by heart. I’d learned the basic positions when I was no older than the girls I now taught, in their adorable pink tutus and bright shiny faces. “Keep going, that’s right,” I encouraged, walking between the barres and making adjustments while the 5-year-olds moved through each ballet position to the music I had queued.

I kept a watchful eye on these aspiring young dancers, hoping to instill in them the love of dance I had grown up with my entire life. Even when I offered corrections, I tried to do so in an encouraging manner. I’d had my share of critical teachers and even a few who thought I wouldn’t get that far. But I’d never let it bring me down and only used the negativity to push harder for what I wanted. Until, that is, a nearly career-ending injury four years ago that had kept me off the stage and behind studio doors instead. I’d made the transition to teaching on the advice of a dance counselor, and I knew I would never look back.

I ended class with some easy stretching and accepted the cute hugs and calls of “Thank you, Miss Juliette!” as my class filed out to their waiting mothers [and two fathers, bless their hearts.] Once the last girl had left I quickly packed my bag as Madison pushed her way in through the door.

“Oh my god, are you excited?” she asked me as I traded out my slippers for sneaks and pulled on a pair of comfy sweatpants and a hoodie over my leotard.

“I’m so nervous I could puke, but I won’t get an opportunity like this again. And I feel like I’m finally ready,” I grinned, making sure I had everything I needed in my bag for the audition I was already running late for. “Thank you for subbing my next class, I appreciate it, Mads,” I grinned, giving her a hug.

“It’s no sweat, now go!” she laughed, fairly pushing me out the door. “And break a leg!” she giggled as I groaned inwardly.

I rushed out of the dance school and hurried along Balderton Street to Oxford, heading toward the Bond Street tube station and taking the train across town to the Paramount studios on Chiswick. I snacked on a protein bar to keep my energy up while we rumbled over the tracks, doing a few stretches to keep my muscles loose as I wouldn’t have much time to warm up again when I got there. If anyone was staring at me, I ignored it, but I’m sure the tube riders had seen far worse than a few grand plies.

Once I arrived at the studio I hurried through the check-in process as quickly as possible. I was issued my number and told which group and studio to join before I rushed off to the bathroom to change. I’d chosen a sparkly magenta pink leotard I’d used for a performance piece years ago for this audition - I was trying out for the dance ensemble cast for Rocketman, the Elton John biopic, so even if it was a bit over-the-top I felt it was appropriate. 

I pulled on tights and a black ruffled short skirt over that and strapped on my character shoes. I let my strawberry blonde hair down out of its tightly woven bun and dashed on a bit of thick eyeliner before affixing my number with safety pins. I put on bright pink lipstick and grinned at myself in the mirror. I certainly looked the part, I thought, stashing everything else in my bag and going to find my group.

I dropped my dance bag against the wall with everyone else’s stuff and found an open spot on the floor, sitting in a deep split and doing a few stretches while everyone else either chatted excitedly or went through their own personal warmups. The buzz in the room instantly cut out as a trim stately man strode in; I instantly recognized him as the choreographer we’d be working with. Waves of excitement and nerves washed through me in equal measure as we all stood and lined up without being instructed to. Several other people came in and took seats along the wall; I presumed they were likely producers and crew of some variety.

I tried to secure myself a spot in the middle front; even if I wasn’t feeling the most confident, I could certainly fake my way into it. This was my first professional audition since I’d made company - and later principal - for London Ballet Company. All of my dance dreams had shattered after the injury that meant I couldn’t do pointe work any more, but I’d thrown myself into classes in other styles as a sort of rehab process and in an effort to diversify my skill set, and found I loved jazz and Broadway the most.

So here I was, giving my all through the brief warmup, across-the-floor exercises, and combinations, hoping to catch the choreographers’ eye. I knew I was one dancer in a field of hundreds, some coming from other countries just for this chance. But I also knew how badly I wanted a spot in the ensemble, to be a part of such a spectacle. 

My favorite combination involved a bit of a complicated leap into a fan kick; I could see other dancers struggling to get elevated but I felt so completely in my own element, soaring across the floor and losing myself to the music, which unfortunately wasn’t actually from Elton’s catalogue. We were split into smaller groups to perform the series of steps for the choreographer; at the end of it, I added my own little flourish, dropping into a very Fosse-style pose with curved shoulders and tilted hips. The choreographer brushed past me as he circled our group, muttering “very good” so only I could hear. I couldn’t help but smile, but kept my eyes low.

We were given a twenty-minute break after everyone had a chance to perform, and the choreographers from each room of dancers would be making first cuts before we would all be shuffled together and given a full routine to learn and perform on an actual stage. I dearly hoped I’d be making it through the cut, but sometimes not getting a part had nothing to do with how good a dancer you were. Directors sometimes wanted a specific “look,” and I had no idea if this would hold true for Rocketman or not.

The hallways were far too noisy for me so I stepped nimbly over dancers sprawled on the floor as I traveled away from the studio rooms, trying to find somewhere quiet to listen to my music and try to find a bit of peace. I filled my water bottle at a drinking fountain before turning a corner and leaving all the other dancers behind. I probably should have just plopped myself here, but curiosity got the better of me, so I followed down this hallway too, my character shoe footsteps echoing in the quiet even as I tried to walk softly. I plugged my headphones in and was just about to hit play on my Spotify playlist when I heard a couple of voices coming from a cracked doorway. The room had a bank of sweeping windows and I couldn’t help peering in; some day I would learn to tame my incessant curiosity, but today was not that day.

Three men stood inside, involved in what looked like a serious discussion. I couldn’t really make out much of what they were saying, their voices just low murmurs, but I thought I might have recognized one of them. Just then they all turned to head toward the door, and I ducked away from the window, hoping I hadn’t been seen. As I slowly tried to sneak away, the door swung open rather suddenly and flew straight into me, sending me sprawling onto my hands and knees, my phone skidding across the floor.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” the handsome young man I recognized said, instantly offering his hand to help me up and looking embarrassed. I took it, noticing how soft his skin was but how strong he felt as he helped bring me back to my feet.

“It’s alright,” I said with a laugh, brushing off my knees and hands and retrieving my phone from the floor. “Nothing hurt but my pride,” I said as he looked me up and down, taking in my obvious dance garb.

“Here for the auditions, then?” he smiled warmly at me, as the other two men carried on their conversation.

“Um, yes, though I’m hoping I’ve danced with more grace than I just displayed,” I grinned good-naturedly. “Though I should get back to that now.”

“Well I wish you best of luck, Number Two-Nine-Four,” he read off my assigned number with a smirk.

“It’s Juliette,” I supplied with a laugh.

“Juliette then, you may call me Taron,” he replied, smiling so widely his dimples showed through.

“Holy shit, you’re Elton!” I gasped, covering my mouth with my hands and making the other two men halt their conversation mid-sentence as they gawked at me.

“That’s up for debate but yes, I’ll be attempting to play him,” Taron grinned at my shock. I knew now how I’d recognized him, from the Kingsman films. But standing here in front of him was an entirely different thing. He was totally unassuming, just dressed in jeans, a black sweatshirt and a ball cap with “twenty-two” scrawled across it.

“I’m sure you’ll be wonderful at it,” I laughed lightly, trying to not feel shy in front of him, but for his part he did everything to try and make me feel at ease.

“I suppose if I was shit Elton wouldn’t have chosen me,” Taron just chuckled.

“No, I don’t think so. Well, it’s very nice to bump into you but I really must get back,” I said softly.

“Wouldn’t want you to be late, love,” he said with a wink. “We’re heading to the stage now,” he added, making my insides feel rather funny all of a sudden. “Maybe I’ll see you there.”

“Maybe,” I agreed a bit faintly, hurrying back down the hall the way I’d come, my heart pounding and unaware that Taron’s gaze lingered on my willowy frame. The hallways were already deserted and I worried I was late, but I slipped back into the studio room just in time, as we were all called to line up again. 

The choreographer was holding a notepad and after thanking everyone for coming out and giving our hardest work, told us only five numbers from our room were advancing to the stage routine. I closed my eyes at that; five out of a room of 35. There’s no way I’m getting through this cut, I thought. I was confident in my abilities but there was so much talent it was practically dripping from the walls.

“If your number is called, please come join me up here,” our choreographer said, and rattled off the first number, 162. A spry male dancer who had all the marks of “ballet” written in his physique left our ranks and joined the choreographer at the front, fairly beaming to be one of the chosen. Next up was 052, a fiery redhead with a pretty face; 291 [so close], a black muscular male with a sweet expression; and 112, a tow-headed boy who looked barely out of secondary school.

I closed my eyes and held my breath as the last number was read, even if I had no chance. “294!” the choreographer called, and no one moved a muscle. Someone next to me tapped me on the shoulder, my eyes still screwed shut tightly.

“Hey, I think that’s you!” a girl whispered as the choreographer called my number again.

“Oh,” I laughed in disbelief, walking to the front in stunned silence as the choreographer clapped for us and everyone else joined in. After more thanking of all the auditioners, the people who hadn’t made it were dismissed, and after much chatter and shuffling of bags, it was just us five left. We’d all been told on the audition notice to bring black pants and a white button-down shirt we could dance in and tap shoes, though the particular style they had left up to us, and we were now instructed to change into those clothes and join all the other dancers in another studio room in ten minutes. I decided to leave my leotard on under my shirt, only doing up three buttons so it could still flash through. I switched my character shoes out for actual taps and then dashed off a squealing text to Madison that I had made it through the first round of cuts.

<Oh my god, that’s so exciting! So what happens next?> she texted back immediately.

<Next up is learning a full 2-minute tap routine in 30 minutes and performing it on the stage as a group. I’m exceedingly nervous about this. Tap has never been my strongest suit.>

<But you’ve been taking hours and hours of classes! I’m sure you’ll do great> she sent back with about ten winky-face emojis. I had to laugh at that.

<Gotta go, I’ll let you know if I make it through to solos.> I stashed my phone in my bag again and made it to the large studio room in time, lost in a sea of other black-and-white clad dancers, all of us trying to individualize in some way, with bright lipsticks or colored socks or patterned scarves tied round our heads. We were all handed cheaply made top hats and shown where to stand. The dancers from each room seemed to band together, so I was in line with the other four from my room, trying to give them encouraging smiles.

“We’ve got this,” I said under my breath to the tow-headed boy next to me, who looked incredibly nervous though he was probably one of the best talents in the room, even so young. He nodded at me and smiled kindly in appreciation, so I gave him a goofy thumbs up before the choreographers addressed our room. 

There were about 60 of us, and I strained to hear what was being said over the coughs and rustles as dancers adjusted their clothes. Still, I got the gist of it and then we were hard at work, learning pieces of the routine, repeating each small snippet over and over and then quickly breezing through the next. It felt like a blur, but I did what I knew to do best in these situations; I linked each piece of choreo to an image in my brain to keep the sequence in order, building on it as we moved through the 2 minutes of routine the way a child might play a game of memory.

We were all sweaty and out of breath when our thirty minutes were up, and soon we were herded to the stage to perform the piece all on our own, as the choreographers and producers and maybe even the director for all I knew sat in the audience. Oh, and Taron, I reminded myself, trying not to let that make me suddenly nervous. The last thing I needed to do was forget the choreography. We stood on the stage under lights, staring out into the darkened auditorium. If I squinted hard enough I could make out the shapes of people in the seats but had no idea who they were. I wondered if Taron was out there looking for me, and the thought of it made me smile.

The strains of music began and soon we were lost in the whirlwind of the dance, performing the piece like we’d been rehearsing for months. It was nice to feel like I could rely on the dancers around me as much as they could rely on me. Sure, we were all competing against each other for those coveted spots, but we were also performers at heart. And so, for those two minutes, we leaped and we spun and we tapped and we shone.

When the music was over we all stood around on the stage together, whispering and waiting as the shadows in the audience deliberated our fates. I didn’t think I had missed a step, and I looked forward to giving my solo, a piece I had worked hard on and that had made Mads cry when I performed it for her. Still, twenty people wouldn’t be making it through this round and that made me even more anxious than I already was.

After about ten minutes someone called for order, and we quieted down immediately. Numbers were called quickly, dancers cheered or groaned, and I was thankfully called up somewhere in the middle of the pack this time. My relief was probably evident. We were given about twenty minutes to prepare whatever we needed to; I chose that time to eat another protein bar and chill out to some music. I had a simple costume for this piece, wanting my dancing to be center stage. I kept the black pants but exchanged the leotard and shirt for a black dance bra and black vest. I slicked back my hair into a sleek ponytail and pulled a hat low over my eyes. I wiped off the pink lipstick and left my lips neutral, but painted my eyelids black. It was a dramatic effect and exactly what I was going for.

We had to pick numbers and of course I chose the last slot, so I had a lot of time to wait around. We all were told we could sit in the auditorium seats if we wished to watch each other at this point, and I sat with my new-found “friends” from my original group, all of who had made it through the tap round. There was Pietre, the soft-spoken young boy; Dennis, the athletic black dancer; Leah the precocious redhead; and Markus, the handsome ex-principal. Markus was quite funny, and I enjoyed sitting next to him as we watched other dancers perform.

Slowly, our ranks got smaller and smaller as each dancer went onstage to perform and was subsequently dismissed. We wouldn’t be told if we had gotten the job until the next day, so this was our last real shot to make an impression. I wished Pietre, Dennis, Leah and Markus all good luck, and their solos were all amazing. It was going to be a tall order for the choreographers to make their decisions, whittling us down to just 30 core dancers.

And then it was my turn. There was no one else left to watch except the people judging me. But as I made my way up the stage stairs, I noticed someone standing in the wings, and realized it was Taron, waving at me and giving me a thumbs up. Had he really stuck around this long to watch me? I was a little dumbstruck at that and ended up stumbling over my own name when I was asked to introduce myself, even though they had my audition sheet in front of them. Get a grip, I chastised myself, stealing another glance at the wings. Despite the low light I could see Taron’s eyes glittering at me and I could feel his eyes following me as I took my place on the stage. I took a few slow breaths to still my mind, needing to go to that place where I was beyond my thoughts, where it was nothing but light and color and music.

I’d chosen Annie Lennox’s “Cold,” a song that was dreamy and ethereal and yet somehow heavy. Lines like “Dying is easy/It's living that scares me to death” and “But the more I want you the less I get/Ain't that just the way things are” hit me in the chest and had stayed with me ever since I heard the song, but when “Catch me and let me dive under/For I want to swim in the pools of your eyes” the image of Taron flashed through my mind, and the words gained a new meaning as I couldn’t let go of the way he looked at me.

When the song ended and I had struck my final pose, the auditorium was dead silent; I could have heard a pin drop aside from my own heart beating. I stood back up and took a small bow, turning to leave because I didn’t think anyone was going to say anything before suddenly someone in the auditorium was clapping, the sound hollow in that giant space. I glanced over at the wing, but Taron wasn’t standing there anymore and for some reason that made me feel empty.

“Thank you for your time, that was lovely. We’ll phone you tomorrow,” one of the faceless shapes from the auditorium told me. I gave them my most winning smile and then was dismissed. I was sweaty, sore and exhausted by the time I gathered my bag up, changing once again into sweats and ready to just head home and tuck into a bowl of homemade Thai peanut chicken curry. I’d done my best and the rest was up to someone else. I had my hand on the exit door when someone called my name. I turned to see Taron jogging toward me, a bit out of breath.

“You were brilliant. They all said it in there, you should have heard them after you left,” he grinned. “You left us all absolutely speechless.”

“I, uhm, thank you,” I replied awkwardly, trying to wrap my mind around what he was telling me.

“You’re absolutely a shoe-in, no question, but you didn’t hear it from me,” he said, winking at me for the second time that day. I let out a nervous laugh at that. “I look forward to working with you, Juliette,” he added, and I couldn’t help my legs feeling a little weak at the way he said my name. I was glad I was still holding onto the door handle to steady myself. On second thought, this might be a major problem, I thought, but he was an actor and I was just a dancer and I didn’t think we’d be spending that much time on set together. Besides that, Taron was on a whole other level from me, so I figured he was only being kind.

“Me too,” I finally managed to reply. He bid me have a good night and then disappeared off down the hall, to do what I didn’t know but he seemed intensely focused on every aspect of this project. He had certainly left an impression on me though, and I could feel my cheeks were flushed.

I finally made my way to the tube station, taking it across the city to my flat and letting myself in gratefully, instantly greeted by my fluffy 2-year-old golden retriever Troy. “Hey boy, mommy’s home,” I grinned, ruffling his fur happily. Madison had stopped in earlier to check on him and let him out, and I was forever grateful to her. Mads had been my biggest cheerleader and supporter since I started working at DanceWorks, and I had never met a sweeter, kinder soul.

<Finally home. We’ll know results tomorrow. Everything seemed to go really well for me> I texted her as I tossed my sweaty dance clothes in the wash.

<Think you’ve got the job?> she asked back.

<Not sure, these things are never certain even if you feel good about it but I did my best and something tells me I impressed the choreographers> I wrote back. Or rather someone, I thought, a small smile drawing across my face.

I set about making dinner, feeling half-starved now, and did my best to relax in front of the television, catching up with my favorite shows. I took Troy on a quick walk around the neighborhood in the late evening before finally taking a long soak in the freestanding bathing tub I’d invested good money in. There was nothing better after a long day of dance then letting my muscles unwind with lavender Epsom salts.

Tired and fully worn out, I stretched out in my bed, ready to catch some shut-eye but of course every time I closed my eyes I could see Taron’s handsome face floating in the dark. I wasn’t about to delude myself into thinking I had half a chance with Taron. From all accounts he was just an absolutely caring and sympathetic man and his co-workers always spoke so highly of working with him. But I could definitely say there was now more than one reason why I wanted the chance to dance on Rocketman. 

Keep reading: Chapter 2 HERE

[angstmongertina]

A Common Goal (Cross-faction Shenanigans)

I finally got around to finishing the continuation of Regulation Standoff and Second Impressions. Yes, they were written in 2016 and 2017. I regret nothing. Yin is a little shit and I love her.

Will I write more for this? IDK, ask me again in 2021 or something.

———————————————————————————————————–

Yin scowled as she rounded the bend, only to find what seemed like a full company on guard outside of House Ulgo. House Thul had made it seem so simple: enter the home of the ones who had stolen the crown from House Panteer, defeat their leader, and depose of him with none the wiser. Of course, she had no intention of actually doing the last part but that didn’t change the fact that it would take an undue amount of energy to even reach the front door; clearly House Ulgo had been preparing in case of such an insurgence against them.

Sighing even as she did so, she turned to give Quinn a nod as she reached for her lightsaber. Before she could unclip it, however, a cry rang out across the grass clearing. “Enemy spotted!”

She turned, half in mystification; she had made a point of staying out of sight from the troops stationed by the roads, intent on minimizing the casualties, if only to save what remained of both her energy and her patience for the planet. None of them should have noticed her.

A second later, sounds of battle to her left caught her attention, and she watched as two figures stormed towards the small barricade set up, blaster rifle shots near exploding against the ground and sending Ulgo’s men flying. The pair dispatched them in short order, quickly closing in on her location, armor gleaming in the bright Alderaanian sun.

A pair in very familiar Republic armor, no less.

Ignoring Quinn’s protest from beside her, she hopped into view of the main road, a hand raised in greeting. “Fancy meeting you again, lieutenant.”

She regretted her hasty appearance the next moment, as she found herself on the receiving end of two military-grade barrels. Her responding “Wait, it’s me!” was more yelp than dignified announcement but it was enough; the rifles lowered as the Republic lieutenant gave her a look of half-apology, half-admiration.

“Whatever you may be lacking in common sense, Sith, you've certainly made up for in guts.”

“I concur.” Quinn’s sharp disapproval could cut through transparisteel. Unluckily for him, her blitheness had withstood worse.

“That, Captain, is beyond the point; it all worked out, didn't it?”

The equally cheerful grin she received from the lieutenant gave him that boyish appearance which set her at ease in their last meeting. “What’s life without a little risk?”

“What is, indeed,” she returned, unable to keep from beaming as she noted his willingness to play along; whatever else this Lieutenant Rylmos Harshaw was, he was clearly willing to reach out and find a kindred soul in the most unlikely of places. “So. I take it you intend to storm Ulgo’s castle.”

His response was instantaneous and drier than the sands of Tatooine. “My, how ever did you guess such a thing?”

“The Force, obviously.”

He snorted. “Indeed. And you're here to do the same.” It was a comment, not a question, so she simply inclined her head in agreement. “What do you intend to do with Lord Ulgo once he's been beaten?”

“A trial,” she replied promptly.

That clearly took the lieutenant by surprise; he paused, seeming to wrestle silently between remaining silent and verbally expressing his disbelief, before taking what she could only assume was the middle ground. “Huh. Well, I can’t say that’s not a relief.”

Crossing her arms over her chest and losing her fight against a teasing smile, she raised an eyebrow. “Not all of us Sith are indiscriminate murderers, lieutenant.”

“No, only most of you.”

She smirked. “Touché. Much like you Pubs and being sanctimonious bastards, no?”

That earned her a genuine chuckle. “Exactly. I—”

Before he could finish his thought, he was cut off, presumably by his surprise when she barreled into him, shoving him out of the way as she activated her lightsaber. The blaster bolt deflected off of her saber, instead scorching a mark into the trunk of a nearby tree, and she grimaced; nature was already the only redeeming part of Alderaan so of course she would find a way to participate in its destruction.

Even knowing that the Republic soldiers were at her side, her nerves sang at the heavy shots of a blaster rifle whizzing close by as he rushed forward to join her side. She shifted to the side, granting him space to maneuver, and vaguely caught what could have been two muffled curses from behind them. Strange.

A second later, a pistol shot ripped by her ear, singeing the edge of her braid. She swore, ducking out of the way as another flew over her head, and thrust her saber forward, slicing cleanly through the armor.

The man fell with a gurgling scream and she grimaced, pulling back to scan over the immediate vicinity. It seemed, between the four of them, they had dispatched the rest of Ulgo’s perimeter guards with quick efficiency, at least until more reinforcements arrived.

Whether that said more about their capabilities or the lack thereof of Ulgo’s soldiers, she couldn’t be sure. Perhaps both.

Drawing a deep breath, she relaxed her stance, letting her surroundings filter back into her consciousness. Almost immediately, Quinn was at her side, examining her for injuries with that familiar mix of exasperation and concern. She relented with amusement; experience had already long since taught her protesting was futile, and it was touching, in his own, studiously professional way.

Much, interestingly enough, like the treatment her recent ally was receiving at the same moment. She caught his gaze, exchanging fond eyerolls as he tolerated his own appraisal.

Only when Quinn had completely satisfied himself with her uninjured state did she move back within earshot of the lieutenant, grinning as she caught the end of a furious scolding courtesy of the sergeant that only petered off when she was noticed.

“You too?”

He grinned, shaking his head with mock consternation. “Of course. Nothing like a lecture on my recklessness and inattention to assure me that I’m in good shape. But I digress.” A brief pause as he brushed his hair out of his eyes and considered her, and then, “Well… Since our goals align here, I don’t suppose you would want to work together?”

She could not have prevented the delighted laugh bubbling in her chest if she had tried. “Oh, very good, lieutenant. And here I was thinking you would end up bowing to the same cowardice that plagues so many of your ilk, even after I saved your hide.”

“You did nothing of the sort. I would have—”

“Taken the blaster bolt to the chest very gallantly, I’m sure.” She mimed patting his chest, grinning as he threw his head back in an open laugh. When the woman beside him barely twitched, however, she turned to her next with a placating smile. “Not that I don’t believe you wouldn’t have done a flawless job of patching him back up, sergeant, but it’s just so much nicer to not have to, wouldn’t you agree? Or, at least, I’m sure that’s what Captain Quinn over here would tell you.” She paused, forcing her face into a show of pensiveness. “Not that I’ve ever listened, of course.”

“My lord!”

“We all know you were thinking it even if you weren’t saying it, Captain,” her newfound partner in mischief added, green eyes dancing. “But I don’t believe that was a reply though the offer still stands…?”

Ignoring the sergeant’s quietly horrified mutter of there now being two of them, a sentiment with which Quinn no doubt concurred, Yin grinned, reaching for the proffered hand and shaking it with a feigned businesslike manner. “Lieutenant Harshaw? Gladly.”

[twdeadfanfic]

Sad Love Life

Summary: The reader and Daryl share their sad love stories during late night watchs, until eventually they come out to each other as bisexuals.

This story was important for me, I based it on a dream in which Daryl and I were friends and were sharing a watch, talking about our love life (though I don’t remember anything and all that I wrote here about Daryl’s past comes from my imagination), and when I told him I was bisexual, he told me he was too. That dream made me so happy. So for my, Daryl’s bi. It’s not mentioned here, but I also think Daryl is demisexual(or asexual), and I think I might be too.

I hope you all like this one-shot, it’s a bit on the long side, let me know your thoughts.

* Link to my masterlist with my other works can be found on the description of this blog. I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but tumblr doesn’t show posts with links in the tags.*

-----------

You shifted restlessly in your sleeping bag. You couldn’t fall asleep. It was difficult for you to sleep even before the world went to hell, now that the dead walked around it was almost impossible for you to fall asleep at night, paranoid of walkers sneaking on you and afraid of the nightmares you might have. It usually took you hours of turning and tossing until you fell asleep out of exhaustion.

Giving up you sat up and looked around. Almost everyone was asleep or trying too, besides Daryl, who was sat down watching over the group, and Rick, who was pacing around the perimeter. Around four months had passed since you lost the Greene’s farm but it still hurt to think about what that place could have been for all of you. Now you were forced to camp in the middle of nowhere more often than not. Like that night.

The more you tried to fall asleep, the less sleepy you felt, and you were starting to feel a headache forming. Groaning in frustration, you gave up and silently walked towards Daryl, sitting down next to him. If you couldn’t sleep, at least you’d keep him company while he kept watch, though he didn’t seem to mind the solitude and silence.

“Can’t sleep.” You grumbled.

“Don’t trust Rick and I to make sure your ass ain’t eaten?” You knew he was joking and you nudged his foot with yours. You didn’t trust anyone more to keep you safe than those two.

It hadn’t been easy, get to be friends with Daryl, and at first you hadn’t really wanted to have him around, you were always annoyed at him back at the quarry. Things were different now, and you were glad you both had become good friends. By now you were sure he must be one of the best persons you had ever met, no matter it was hard to get him out of his shell.

“If you want to sleep I could keep watch for you.” You offered though you were pretty sure of what was going to be his answer.

“Nah, I’m good here.”

“Okay, mind if I sit with you?”

He shook his head again. "You should rest though.”

“In a bit.” When you were exhausted enough that you couldn’t keep your eyes open.

For a while you both stayed there in silence, but you felt calmer with Daryl next to you. You looked around at the sleeping group and smiled softly when you saw Glenn and Maggie snuggled together. Sure it might be easy to fall asleep with someone holding you, or at least lying there awake would be more enjoyable.

You caught Daryl glancing at you through the corner of his eye, silent. When he realized you had caught him, he dropped his gaze to the ground without saying anything.

“If you want to tell me something just do it, it’s fine.” You told him softly, but  he shook his head in silence. You had been friends for a while now and still it was hard to get him to tell you what was on his mind most times.

Eventually, when you had given up on the idea of him telling you what he was thinking, he began talking.

“You were with this guy at the quarry…Richard? He didn’t want to go to the CDC but you did, and you both parted ways like nothing…”

You were taken aback, you hadn’t expected Daryl to bring up something like that. You could only blink at him in surprise and he shrugged, looking away from you and seeming self-conscious. You let out a long breath as you thought about his words.

“It…it wasn’t like nothing.” It had actually been a long night of fighting about it. “But I knew that going with all of you to the CDC was the safest idea, and I wanted answers.” The ones you had found weren’t enough and were terrifying, but at least it was something. “He didn’t agree, thought we’d be better on our own. None of us was going to change our mind, so…” You shrugged.

“But it was like you didn’t care about what happened to each other.” Daryl pressed, and you knew he didn’t mean anything bad and you were glad he was sharing his mind with you, but still, you were feeling guilty and embarrassed.

“It’s not that, I did care, I hope he’s okay wherever he is.” However, you hadn’t thought back to him in quite a while, if you were honest. “But I told you, we had different ideas so we decided it was best to part ways…” Or you had decided it, you hadn’t been sure Richard wasn’t just going to grab you and push you into his car, but you guessed he hadn’t wanted to cause a scene in front of everyone.

Still, you were feeling guilty and you began to fidget. Daryl seemed to notice it. “I don’t mean it as something bad…just asking…” He shrugged shyly. “I always thought he was an idiotic prick.”

That made you snort quietly. “We hadn’t been dating for long.” You had met each other just a few months before the apocalypse. “But yes, I’m pretty confident he was an idiotic prick.” Both you and Daryl chuckled. “He wasn’t that bad before, but he turned worse and worse as the world went to shit, always telling me what to do and what not, trying to control me, behaving like I was a useless damsel in distress or some shit.”

You rolled your eyes, annoyed. You had put down more walkers than him yet he behaved towards you like you couldn’t do anything by yourself. He wanted to be on top of everything, to have people following him, he had hated how first Shane had been a leader to the camp, then Rick, despising the men, always trying to turn you and anyone he could against them. But you had known the value of both Rick and Shane, and Richard wouldn’t be like that in a million times. The reason he hadn’t wanted to go to the CDC was to get rid of Shane and Rick, you knew it, and to have people following him, but you hadn’t wanted to be part of that.

“Pff…didn’t you save his ass in the woods once when he walked right into some walkers?” Daryl raised an eyebrow at you.

“Yep.” You scoffed. “And he didn’t lose time to get angry at me and tell me how much I had embarrassed him in front of everyone.”

“Asshole.”

“Pretty much an asshole.” You chuckled again and Daryl smirked. “But not the biggest asshole I ever dated, though. Neither the second.”

Daryl looked at you amused, “Really?”

“Yep.” You laughed quietly. “I don’t have the best dating history, you know.”

“Who was the biggest one?” Daryl asked and you were surprised to hear him asking a personal question, but you didn’t mind it. You liked the idea of getting to know each other better, he was a good friend after all.

“You really wanna hear my sad love life, Dixon?” You half-joked and he shrugged. “You’re gonna tell me about yours?” You honestly couldn’t imagine Daryl being in a relationship but who knew.

“You can tell me or not, don’t care.” He mumbled, dodging your question, and with the way he was turning and looking away for you, you could see you had made him uncomfortable. It hadn’t been your intention, and you felt bad.

“I’d like to, venting about it seems like a good  plan to spend the time.” You smiled at him, hoping he wasn’t upset. “If you really don’t mind it, I think I just got in the mood to rant about Richard.”

Daryl glanced at you through the corner of the eye and you thought he wasn’t going to say anything, but then the corner of his mouth twitched into a tiny smile.

“Go ahead.”

*

“But you knew he had more girls?”

“Yeah…”

You had spent the last couple of nights telling Daryl all about the awful guys you had dated. Honestly, you’d never thought you’d talk about something like that with Daryl Dixon of all people, but it was good. Sometimes it was fun, other times it still hurt to talk about it, but it felt cathartic.

“And you didn’t care?” He was frowning at you now.

“It’s not that I didn’t care…it’s…complicated.” You let out a sigh. “I was young and dumb, you know.”

“Was he older than you?”

“Yeah, but not like the one I told you yesterday.” You had dated someone ten years older than you when you were in your late teens and now the memories made you cringe. Daryl just hummed without saying anything.

“I just though…I don’t know…He always told me how I was the best one, but that the others blackmailed him to be with them or some shit, but that he wanted to be with me no matter what…” You huffed at how silly you had been. “Or then he’d tell me that he wasn’t sure if I truly loved him and how I had to prove it to him. But I was never enough to be the only one, it seemed.” You shook your head, disgusted and upset. That one still hurt, you felt you had been an idiot, but you had been in love nonetheless.

“We don’t have to talk about this anymore.” Daryl offered, noticing your distress, and you gave him a weak smile.

“No, it’s fine, I like it…I never told anyone the full extent of it, you know…” You had been too embarrassed to share it, but you felt Daryl didn’t judge you. “I just feel so stupid now, but I couldn’t help myself, I was young and in love with that prick.” You let out a sigh. “I don’t know why I’d care that much about being number one and the one and only for that prick.”

“He does sound like a prick…” Daryl mumbled.

“He had his good things…he knew how to be pretty charming…” You shrugged, you knew you had been an idiot. “Anyway, about one year and a half later he moved away with this girl, younger than me, pretty, I was so brokenhearted…” You’d cried for weeks, didn’t get up from the bed, and now you shook your head in embarrassment. “He still called me and all that, at first I tried to ignore him but…Anyway, here comes the fun part and by fun, I mean worst.”

“Wasn’t it bad enough? You’re worse than a shit romance novel.” Daryl joked and you nudged him with your shoulder, but you knew he didn’t mean anything bad.

“We’re getting very novel-like, mind you. Well, he comes one day, calls me saying he wants to meet, and then he tells me that he’s getting married cos his girl is pregnant, but that he really hopes to keep seeing me cos he likes me more, and kisses me and yeah, well…it wasn’t fun.”

Your heart had been shattered and you thought you would never be able to put it back together, but you did. Daryl looked at you as if shocked. “What a damn prick.”

“Yeah…yeah he was…”

“So you didn’t see him more after that?”

“Well…” You fidgeted, embarrassed.

“Seriously?”

“I told you, I was stupid and young…I kept seeing him when he came to the town but it didn’t take me more than a couple of months to tell him I didn’t want to see him anymore…” Still, you had been brokenhearted for months and months. “I couldn’t take it anymore and I started to see how he really was.”

“Took you long enough.”

“I know…”

Daryl didn’t say anything else and you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe you had been wrong, maybe he did judge you…maybe he thought you were a homewrecker bitch and an idiot, maybe you were. You felt a lump in your throat and you swallowed hard.

“It’s just I can’t see you acting like that…” Daryl said quietly. “Dunno…I thought you’d have punched someone like that in the face.”

You snorted. “Yeah well, back then I wasn’t like I am now.” You had grown a lot, both before and after the apocalypse. You all had grown after the apocalypse. “And I was an idiot in love.” You let out a sigh. “But yeah, I bet you had never done something stupid because of that, so whatever.”

Daryl shifted uncomfortably and you knew better than to press it. During the nights you had been telling him about your love life, you had asked him about his too, trying to learn something more about him, but he never told you anything. You had begun to wonder if he had ever had a relationship, but you didn’t want to press him and make uncomfortable. By now you had given up on the idea of getting to know more about that part of his life.

You stayed silent, you didn’t feel like thinking or talking more about your relationships for the night. Besides, you didn’t have many more to tell…

“There was this girl…uh…” Daryl began talking and you looked at him surprised. Was he really going to tell you about a girl he had dated? You held your breath, hoping he’d continue, he seemed to be looking for the right words, frown on his face.

“She was friends with one of the girls my brother was hooking up back them…with more than one, probably. I must have been like seventeen or eighteen, I used to go with my brother and his friends to this bar each night, where the girls were. So there was this girl…I didn’t think she’d have even noticed me, but one night she began talking to me. I didn’t know why. But she kept doing it, night after night…like she was interested in me…so yeah…”

He really was telling you and you couldn’t believe it. It made you so happy that Daryl would open up and share it with you, you couldn’t help your smile as you listened to him. You could guess how hard it must have been for that girl to get Daryl out of his shell.

“So…I don’t know if you want to say we got together or whatever…I thought she liked me…” You could see how uncomfortable Daryl was, his cheeks blushed, and you wished you could make him feel more at ease but you didn’t know how. On one hand you felt like telling him he didn’t need to tell you, but now that he was actually sharing it with you, you wanted to hear it.

“But, she didn’t like me. Didn’t know why I even thought she did.” Daryl scoffed, shaking his head. “What she liked were my brother’s drugs. He used to deal back then. So one day she told me to get Merle’s stash for her…and yeah, well, I did. When Merle found out…he wasn’t happy.” You didn’t want to even imagine the fight those two must have had. “And once she realized I wasn’t going to be able to get her more of Merle’s stuff, she didn’t even look at me again…so yeah…I was an idiot too.”

“Daryl…”

You looked at him but he was looking away, cheeks red, arms around his knees as if shielding himself. You wanted to hug him or something, but you didn’t want to make him even more uncomfortable. You were brokenhearted at someone doing that to him. You had wondered how hard it must have been for that girl to get Daryl to open up, and she had only taken advantage of it. You were enraged at her, you wanted to slap her, yell at her…You couldn’t believe someone would use Daryl like that after getting him to lower his thick walls, after getting to know the sweet, great man he was…

“That girl was a damn prick, as stupid as mean.” You huffed. “She didn’t know how lucky she was, she didn’t know what she had!” You couldn’t help how mad you were. Daryl just scoffed, shaking his head. “I mean it, Daryl, she didn’t deserve you. At all.”

He looked at you at that, frowning and as if trying to see if you might be messing with him. He seemed to decide you were genuine, but he just shrugged again, looking away. You didn’t know how to make him feel better, you didn’t know if you could.

“At least we know we aren’t the only ones who are idiots when they are in love.” You joked softly, waiting for his reaction with bated breath.

Daryl scoffed but a tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he looked at you. “I wasn’t in love or nothing.” He grumbled.

“Okay.”

You didn’t press it more, grateful he had shared that with you. It seemed you weren’t the only one with a sad love life, and you hoped you were helping each other to mend your past broken hearts as you shared your stories.

*

Next day you were back at sharing Daryl’s night watch, both of you in silence. Neither of you had talked again about the stories you had shared last night. You kept thinking about Daryl’s, grateful he had shared it with you but also sad and mad at the girl who had used him like that and taken advantage of Daryl’s big heart.

You weren’t sure if Daryl maybe regretted telling you, or if he was now awkward and uncomfortable, but you didn’t mention anything else about it, just in case. He was silent and thoughtful, yes, but you didn’t think that more than usual.

“You ain’t telling me nothing today?” He asked you after a while, surprising you a bit. You looked at him but he was looking away. You didn’t know if he was really interested or if maybe he just thought you might be bored there.

“Don’t have much more to tell, I’ve told you about almost every awful guy I’ve dated I think.” You said and Daryl just hummed.

You chewed on your nails as you considering telling him one last story, this time a little bit different.  You were mostly sure Daryl wasn’t going to react badly to it, but still, you knew how Merle had been and Daryl was his brother after all…but both Dixons were different, and Daryl had come a long way since stepping away from his brother’s shadow. And after all, he had shared something private and deep with you yesterday, it might not seem like it but you knew it had been hard for him. You knew he had to trust you to talk to you about something like that, and you were grateful you had his trust. You wanted to share something deep with him too.

“You know how I’ve told you only awful love stories?” You asked and Daryl nodded. “What if I told you about one that wasn’t awful?”

“Okay.” He shrugged.

“It doesn’t really have a happy ending, though.”

“Didn’t expect any less from one of your stories.” Daryl half-joked, looking at you with a tiny, half smile.

“Mean.” You nudged him playfully. “Anyway, I was in my second year of college and I met this new girl. She was like, super smart, had gotten there with a scholarship and all, and I thought she was so pretty, like one of those girls you think doesn’t exist out of a magazine or something like that.”

You smiled sadly, the memories were bittersweet. “Anyway we began talking and soon we were friends. But I…I didn’t like her only as a friend, and the more time I spent with her, the harder I fell for her. So one day, we were celebrating we’d passed our exams and I kind of kissed her out of the blue. But, she freaked out and left, didn’t talk to me in days.” You’d been so scared, berating yourself, thinking you had lost her and her friendship forever.

“Until a few days later she came to my place and I opened the door and she kissed me and it was just…” You let out a dreamy sigh, smiling like an idiot at the memories. “She’d never thought she might like girls, had never let herself think it. But once she did, she realized she didn’t want me only as a friend either. Lucky me. And so well, we began dating. Best damn relationship I ever had, I think.”

You sneaked a glance at Daryl, trying to see his reaction at what you were saying. He was looking at you and seemed a bit surprised, but you didn’t know if in a bad way or not. When you caught him staring he looked away, though he kept glancing at you through the corner of his eye.

“Daryl, if you want to tell me something, go ahead.” You told him softly.

“Just…didn’t know you liked girls…” Daryl mumbled.

“Yeah, well…didn’t feel like I had to go around announcing it.” You weren’t ashamed or anything, but the other people in your group didn’t introduce themselves saying hi I’m hetero or anything like that, so you didn’t know why you should have.

“Didn’t mean it like that…” Daryl said quietly. “Just…you’ve been telling me about all those guys you dated…”

“It’s not my fault most of my awful dates were boys.” You chuckled awkwardly. “I like both boys and girls, I’m bisexual.” You shrugged, trying not to make a big deal of it. Daryl didn’t say anything, making you feel a bit insecure. “You think there’s anything wrong with it or something?”

“Why would I?” Daryl looked at you weird and you shrugged.

“Dunno…some people don’t really take it well sometimes...”

It could go from them thinking there was something wrong with liking girls, to others thinking you were either hetero or a lesbian but confused, or that you wanted it all and wanted to be special and different, or whatever shit you had ever had to hear, or to them deadpan telling you bisexuality didn’t exist. As if you didn’t know how you felt.

“Yeah, well, some people are idiotic assholes,” Daryl said, making you snort, giving relieved, grateful smile that he returned, the corner of his mouth twitching into a tiny one. “Why you didn’t get a happy ending with that girl?”

“Well…when we graduated she got this really good grades cos I told you, she was damn intelligent. And she was offered a scholarship to study in a super good post-grad school in another country, it was a dream come true, right what she wanted, a super good chance. But I couldn’t go with her.” You couldn’t afford it and you needed to start working as soon as possible to pay your loans, your grades were neither brilliant.

“She said that then she wasn’t going to go, that she would stay with me. But I couldn’t have her missing that, not because of me, she deserved it, she was bound to do great things. I wasn’t going to hold her back from all that. So I ended the relationship, told her to go…” You realized you were almost crying, your voice breaking, and you let out an embarrassed chuckle, sniffing and rubbing your eyes. “So yeah, no happy ending…well, a bittersweet one.”

You were surprised to feel Daryl’s hand on your shoulder, squeezing softly, comfortingly, and you gave him a grateful smile, placing your hand on top of his.

“God…I hope she’s okay…that maybe this madness hasn’t reached wherever she’s living now.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Daryl offered, even though at the CDC you had been told the infection had spread worldwide. He might not look like it, he might fight it, but Daryl was just the sweetest.

*

Next night you joined Daryl again and for a while you both stayed silent. It wasn’t that unusual but still, as you stole glances at Daryl you noticed him even more thoughtful than usual, seeming nervous and fidgety.

“You okay?” You asked him and Daryl nodded in silence without looking at you. You still felt there was something off with him “Daryl, if you are worried about something, or anything, you know you can tell me.” You told him softly as he shifted as if uncomfortable.

“Ain’t nothing.” He turned slightly away from you, and you didn’t press it.

For a while he didn’t say anything, but then he began talking again, his body still slightly turned away so you couldn’t see his face. “It’s just…I’ve been thinking…what you told me yesterday…just…nothing.” He trailed off, looking more uncomfortable and unsure than you had ever seen him.

It was making you feel bad for him but you didn’t know what he was trying to say or how to help him, though you guessed it might have something to do with another bad love story like the one he had told you a couple nights ago. You wanted to give him some support and you reached out for his hand, but he flinched it away roughly. You were about to apologize but he gave you a side way glance and relaxed a bit, slowly sliding his hand closer to yours until you felt his fingers gently drumming over yours, nervously.

After a little while of silence, you heard him swallowing hard and taking a deep breath, and then he began talking again. “I hadn’t really had anyone before, when I was little, like friends, not beside my brother. People in my town didn’t like Dixons…I can’t blame them…” This wasn’t really what you had expected him to start telling you, but you were glad he was telling you something more about his life, and you listened in silence. “Anyway…I was in high-school and there was this group in class, they’d always pick on me, making fun of me, cos you know, redneck trash and whatever…”

“Hey.” You couldn’t stop yourself from lacing your fingers with his at that and squeezing his hand. “You are nothing like that, okay?” Daryl just shrugged.

“I know what I am.” He murmured. “Anyway, I got into a lot of fights with them. And there was this guy in my class, I don’t know why but he began standing up for me…got him into trouble too. But he didn’t seem to care. And yeah, well, we became friends.” Daryl fell silent again, his fingers playing nervously with yours. You squeezed his hand gently as you waited for him to keep going.

“Merle wasn’t around so I had none but him. We’d hang out, we’d get into fights with whoever picked on us, it was good. Yeah, yeah, it was good… There was this time that Merle came back for a couple weeks, though, and he didn’t like him, didn’t like that we were friends, though I didn’t understand why back then. Told me to stop hanging out with him, he even threatened him, but neither of us listened to it. Merle didn’t like that…”

Daryl swallowed hard again, his fingers twitching nervously, and you rubbed your thumb softly over his knuckles, trying to reassure him.

“His parents didn’t like it either…how were they gonna like their kid being friends with a Dixon…” He scoffed and you hated he still thought so low of him sometimes, but you didn’t say anything, letting him speak. “Especially not after my brother threatened him…but he didn’t care, didn’t stop hanging out with me. Until one day, his parents picked up their things and left our shit town, they had found a job in another one or some shit…didn’t even let him say goodbye…”

“Daryl…” You squeezed his hand, your heart hurting for little Daryl. “I’m sorry…”

“Yeah, well…”

Daryl shrugged, seeming uncomfortable, and you both stayed silent for a while, your thumb tracing gentle circles over the back of his hand.

“I…I’ve been thinking about what you told me yesterday…” Daryl began quietly but then he stopped again for a little while. “’being thinking about what you said…about that girl, that you…that you didn’t like her only as a friend…” He stopped again and you waited until he felt like speaking again, you thought you guessed where this might be going to and you didn’t mind waiting the whole night if he needed it.

“And I…I’ve been thinking…maybe…dunno…” He shrugged, uncomfortable, his hand shaking ever so slightly in yours, and you squeezed it gently. “Maybe I…dunno, but maybe I… maybe didn’t like him only as a friend, either…don’t know… I just…dunno. I’ve been thinking all the time about what you told me…and then thinking about back then…and I think…I think that maybe I…that maybe I too…don’t know…” He trailed off, he seemed to find it hard to put his thoughts into words and he seemed so uncomfortable and nervous that it was hurting you. He looked at you for a second, his eyes nervous, before looking away again.

“It’s okay, Daryl.” You tried to reassure him softly, he was such a close, private person, and with what you knew about his past and family, you knew how hard this must be for him. You couldn’t be more grateful that he was sharing it with you, but you didn’t want him to keep going if it was making him feel bad. “You don’t need to tell me anything else, it’s okay. But if you want to, then I’m here for you, alright?” You squeezed his hand again.

Daryl nodded, looking at you for another second before looking down. “I think…I think that maybe…that maybe I’m like you in that.” He whispered. You didn’t know what to say, afraid of saying the wrong thing, but you didn’t want to not tell him anything either.

“And how do you feel about it?” You ventured and Daryl just shrugged, seeming helpless. “It’s okay, you don’t need to have anything figured out and it’s nobody’s business but yours.” Daryl didn’t say anything, looking away. “But, if you are like me…then, well, what I’m going to say, I think it’s more than okay.” Daryl looked at you at that, still seeming unsure.

“You told me yesterday, didn’t you? That it was okay, that there was nothing wrong with me liking boys but girls too. Didn’t you?” You tugged at his hand gently and he looked at you, nodding softly.

“Then, if you might like both girls and boys too, it’d be okay too.” You shrugged, trying to say it casual, like it wasn’t a big deal, giving Daryl a smile. His eyes darted back and forth from you and the ground and then he nodded, the corner of his mouth lifting into a tiny, tiny smile.

He still seemed a bit nervous, and like he didn’t know what to say, but he didn’t seem as uncomfortable and scared as he before. You stayed silent too, holding his hand, letting him process everything and calm down.

“Hey, Daryl.” You started when you thought he was feeling better. “Thank you for sharing all this with me, really, it means a lot to me. More than I can tell you, seriously.”

Daryl looked at you with a soft smile at that, his cheeks still blushed but he seemed to be feeling better, and this time it was him who gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “It was you who started.”

“Yes, and I really liked it, I think it was good for me, made me feel better.” It had been bittersweet, but you had liked to share all the bad and the good times, the memories, healing the bad, cherishing the good, and getting Daryl to know you a bit more.

“Me too,” Daryl said quietly and you couldn’t help your smile. You really wished it was true, that he felt better about everything, about himself.

“You don’t have to but…if anytime you feel like talking about this…well, I’m here for you, okay?” You offered softly, didn’t want to press it.

“Yeah…yeah, okay.” Daryl smiled softly and nodded.

You squeezed his hand back and carefully leaned against his arm, resting your head in his shoulder, a silence that had nothing of uncomfortable filling the night’s air as you kept each other company during the watch.

-------

I’m a bit nervous about this, I’m not going to lie, but it was important for me to write it.I hope I did it good...what you thought about Daryl’s past love stories? It was fun to imagine that side of him, but also challenging. 

Thank you all for reading! I hope you liked it! If you have a moment, please let me know your thoughts in the comments, your feedback makes my day! 

As always, English is not my first language so sorry if there are mistakes.

If you want to be tagged (or removed from the tags) let me know!

@momc95​  @jodiereedus22​ @osweetdevilo​ @sapphire1727​ @coffeebooksandfandom​ @crustyrose​ @checkintoreality​ @daddys-little-princess67 @sesshomaru-lover​ @crossbowking​ @coltcas​ @feartheendlesssummer​ @izumi37​ @gruffle1​ @cutiepiemimi13​ @drina365​ @kuolematkorjaavat @daeshaunex2 @twdeadlysins​ @stressed-lasagna​ @teenyforestfairy​ @yenne-yen-illustrations​ @mychemicalimagines​ @nikkipea​ @crazycatladyalustriel​  @miniprz  @wolfkg​ @paybackbarnes @haleypearce @nikki082489 @dotslabyrinth @mtngirlforever @superflannel @blckbuttler @deanervs   @linktheloveabledork @sourwolf-sterek32 @iminlokisarmysofi @traveleraroundsworld @deliciousassafrasssandwich @angelontheinside @friendly-black-cat @firehoopinmama @d0ntfitin @ivars-snowflake @mblaqgi @lxdyred @a-dlv @elysijin