#Hate how fast and loose they play with established continuity

[bg-11]

The Star Wars Republic comics are the real depiction of the Clone Wars. 

[tokiro07]

Martial Master Asumi ch.11 thoughts

[Oh Brother!]

Kawada's really playing it fast and loose with the character roles here, I'm really digging it. Despite being pretty well-established as an antagonist, Kazuro is also just being a fairly normal if strained big brother to Asumi

It's really interesting watching them talk, you can really feel the nuance of their relationship in a way that I think most manga either fail or don't even attempt to do in most relationships

Asumi going back and forth about whether he actually hates his brother, Kazuro reassuring his brother that the path he wants for him doesn't need to be mutually exclusive to the path he wants for himself, both of them admitting to the parts that they played in their estrangement, both of them insisting that despite that awareness that they'll continue on as they are...it feels so...real

Sorry to get personal, but I recently had to stop a fight between my mom and brother, and despite feeling strong enough rage that I wanted to hit my brother for causing it and thinking I'd never be able to forgive him for what he said to her...I strangely feel like I'm over it already. I've talked to both of them since then, and I know that they've moved on and made up in whatever way they needed to, and while I can't forget what happened, I have the emotional maturity not to let that one moment of tension define my relationship with my family for the rest of my life

I feel that same tension here, that same strain trying desperately to relax. No one here wants to hate anyone else, no one wants to be angry and antagonistic, but no one wants to change how they live, and they frankly shouldn't have to. Kazuro probably should at least visit the family, and his doing so could help improve his grandfather's condition, but it's undeniable that Kazuro left because of the pain that being present caused him. It's not fair to ask him to put himself in that situation just because it would be good for someone else. It needs to be good for him too, and while I'm confident he'll learn that it is eventually, right now he can't see that, and forcing him to see it would only do more harm than good

Asumi is doing the right thing by finding something in life that he can be passionate about, so it's good that Kazuro has given him something to strive for, but Kazuro also is pushing Asumi, and he certainly started this process by going completely too far

Neither of them are objectively right, nor are either objectively wrong. There's subtlety and depth to the morality of this situation that both of them need to navigate to come out on the other side as better people than when they went in, and that's going to take a lot of time, something that Kawada proved he was very good at with Hinomaru Zumou

In my Undead Unluck review this week, I mentioned that I believe UU is going to address family as the theme of this week's arc and that other Jump manga were also using family as their main theme, like Yozakura and Ichinose, but looking over this week's MMA, there was definitely at least one that I missed that was presenting a unique angle on that theme just as well

[hoodiewithhorns]

━  using your safeword scenarios p.3 !★

genre : hurt/comfort smut.

characters : f! reader x sakusa, matsukawa, kenma

p.1  + p.2 + m.sterlist + requests  

(please read the rules before requesting ty.)

▼ cw : not proof read, use of safeword, neglect , unprotected sex, degradation , clit spanking ( 1 ), impact play ( sakusas part ), mentions of exe(s), caught masturbation (reader) , pillow humping, thigh riding, implied punishment, kinda crybaby reader, implied cockwarming, cheating (?), angst, established relationship, all characters are 18+, MDNI ▲

different safewords used this time <3

- ty to the anons and user @/please-take-me-to-the-moon for the scenarios <3 

sakusa 

word count : 1.4k

you knew better than to do this, humping your dearly beloved boyfriends pillow with just your cotton panties, a loose shirt with no bra under, like a bitch in heat, desperate for friction of any kind. You knew if he had caught you like this he would punish you that was guaranteed. however, in the literal heat of the moment you didn’t care. sakusa’s constant pattern of coming home the minute you were already fast asleep in your shared bed, never being able to fill the void of need in your little cunt. 

〜　☆

Considering he’d let this slide since its been a month since you’ve two have done anything sexual, these thoughts only making you hump his pillow even more desperate leaving a pool of your arousal staining his pillow, with the occasional soft whimpers of his name. losing yourself in your own lust, You didn’t hear the sound of the door clicking open.

Sakusa, leaving his practice early since his performance was unfavorable by the shitty mood he was in, lashing out on his teammates for the smallest things they’d do and so many more. in short, his team suggested he’d stay home t’ill he cooled down. 

“y/n? i’m home.”he walked around the empty apartment accompanied by the muffles of your soft moans, trying to find you as quickly as possible, obviously knowing it was you. he opened the bedroom door slowly and quietly. his eyes grew wide at the scene in front of him. 

still not noticing his presence in the door frame you continued humping his pillow feeling your high approach, but leave you since you needed him. 

“tch.” clicking his tongue at you in disapproval. you flinched letting go of his pillow to face him, feeling your heart race when you made eye contact with him, arms folded and a look of disgust planted on his pale face. Your eyes already filling up with tears knowing what comes next. “m’ y-yoomi! w-welcome home-”

“who the fuck gave you permission to touch yourself?” cutting you off, walking towards the bed, he pinned you down to the bed, arms on your sides, hovering over you with his dead, cold, heartless gaze cutting through you, as you tried to look away in shame only earning you a slap to the face to make you look at him. the sting causing you to choke out a sob. praying internally that he’d let you off the hook just this once. you were just needy for him.he has to understand that, right?

“answer me, right.now.”

“n-no one yoomi... i’m s-sorry please don’t wanna be punished!” you pleaded to him only making him more angrier. he grabbed your jaw making you whimper at the tight grip. scanning you top to bottom, eyeing at the wet patch on your underwear. 

“then why did you huh? couldn’t wait until i got home couldn’t you? needy fucking thing.” he tutted, letting go of your jaw harshly, tugging your panties down to your knees already feeling impatient himself by how his cock hardened through his shorts. despite wanting to punish you, he wanted you. needed you to be precise.

 the man hasn’t felt you in a whole month how could he not miss his girlfriends tight slutty cunt? removing his volleyball shorts letting his cock spring free, he strokes himself a few times before lining himself against your cunt, letting a small sigh when you felt his hard tip touch your soaked entrance. 

feeling slightly relief you were finally gonna feel him after so long. That feeling of relief however didn’t last long when he slammed his fat cock inside you without warning. you let out a yelp, hands immediately going to his chest hoping for him to not bruise your cervix from how deep he was already. he growled when he felt your palms try and stop him, so he slapped your hands away roughly marking them red. 

“b-but yoomi please it hurts..it h-hurts” 

you figured he didn’t hear you. but he was too focused on punishing you to care if it hurt or not. so you pleaded again for him to slow down. finally getting a response from him.

“shut up you disgusting whore.you brought this on yourself, touching yourself while your boyfriends away.”

“...dirtying up his fucking pillow while he’s gone. how fucking pathetic.”  he spits, slapping your clit harshly in attempt to get you to shut up. his degrading not having a hint of reassurance anywhere like it usually does when he fucks you. normally, he’d call you his “slut” or his whore but never ever calling you a disgusting one at most, what did this mean?..you asked yourself, mind going hazy with fear. feeling like your boyfriend finds you disgusting for your actions, and not a single trace of love or concern for you, not even noticing how you tried inching yourself away from his pace. 

sakusa was a mean dom yes, but he cared about you and your boundaries and right now it seemed like he didn’t care about any of those.

too focused on his own pleasure, not realizing you slowly started to breakdown in front of him, hands to your eyes shaken from how hard he hit them, as more tears fell to stain your cheeks.

“n-no not disgusting..i-i’m...so sorry..sakusa..just missed you.” you muttered no longer feeling the long needed pleasure of his cock, only feeling a painful discomfort in your chest as if your heart was gonna burst out of it at any minute. he was caught off-guard by you calling him by his last name, but that didn’t stop the brutal pace on your sloppy cunt. repositioning his hand to your hips digging his nails in your sides, bound to leave marks to be seen in the morning. 

“addressing me by my last name? what you think thats gonna make things better?”he muses, his pace speeding up making you whimper. you’ve just about had enough.

“germs! g-germs! no more, i don’t like this!! y-you’re hurting m-me sakusa... please s-stop..stop.” screaming your safeword, trying to get him off you, you pushed with the little strength in you with your fragile hands. it wasn’t enough but he got the message. blinking a few times to make sure he processed the current situation.

he sighed pulling his cock out watching you with wolf eyes as you softly cried to yourself, turning to your side. he didn’t say anything he just laid down beside you. sneaking an arm around your waist, face buried in your neck. he planted some soft kisses onto it trying to make you relax. if he was being brutally honest, he didn’t know what to do.

you never used your safeword and even if it didn’t show in his face, he was pretty frightened. watching you tense up and shake around him all because of him.

“ y-yoomi..im sorry-”

“don’t be.”

he rubs your hands with his thumb in slow but comforting circles, seeing its still red from being slapped away by him, along with him kissing your cheek to simmer down the sting from earlier. god he felt so bad, but was so scared at the same time, all he wanted to do was hold you close..

..and thats what he did, watching you curl up to his chest. The room was silent for a few minutes that felt like hours gone by. you looked up at him with the look you always gave him. Full of love and adoration even with puffy eyes and hurt in your chest you still loved him.

He looked down noticing the soft smile you gave him as if nothing happened. Titling his head in confusion he asks

“why are you smiling? aren’t you upset..at me?”

you shook your head at him, “no yoomi I’m not mad. My body kinda hurts yes, but I’m glad to have you home...i missed you so much I’m sorry i touched myself without permission...”

he lightly smiles at you kissing your lips softly.

“it’s okay. tomorrow we’ll have the day all to ourselves and we can do whatever you want my love. I’m sorry i was so mean... i was having a bad day and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

you paused leaning in closer to his chest as you mumbled.

“can we...take a bath together yoomi?”

“oh sure...here i’l carry you.”

needless to say, you forgave him and gave him one last kiss before going to bed.

kenma

word count : 886

kenmas work schedule was god awful since he was practically up to play games and just that leaving you feeling needy and neglected. you hated it. 

but tonight you were just, so needy and couldn’t stand this constant neglect.

No matter how many times you touched yourself of grind against something it couldn’t compare to the way kenma would stuff you with his cock.

he wasn’t a super harsh dom leaning towards a mix of soft and mean, but he still prioritized your needs before his. and tonight you were gonna get that version of kenma.

walking towards the couch he was playing his games at slowly, with nothing but his hoodie and knee highs. you bit your lip standing in front of him, fiddling your thumbs out of nervousness. He titled his head to remove you from his line of sight to see the tv screen better making your heart ache just a little, being so used to it already.

taking a deep breath you sat in between on of his thighs wrapping your arms around his neck making him let out a groan of annoyance to your needy antics.

he continued to play his game acting as if you weren’t there and nothing changed. it all came to a halt when he felt you grinding on his thigh, letting out small cries of his name.

“baby.... please” you mumbled facing his disinterested face not even sharing a glance at you as he continued to move his thumbs around his controllers joystick. He didn’t even pay mind to the fact you were borderline naked either.

“five minutes pretty girl.” he muttered still too absorbed in his game. You pouted shifting your legs to be wrapped around him now, wet cunt on top of his crotch rubbing against him lightly. Making him flinch at the sudden friction. giving you hope he’d give you what you want now. you smirked continuing to grind against him making him bite back a grunt. 

“ugh what are you doing?” he said clearly annoyed by your antics already.

your face became red while placing your hands on his shoulders slowly starting to grind against his growing bulge. “want your attention kenma please need you so bad.” you begged hoping he’d give you something anything really.

but being kenma, he went back to his video games. your pout returning once more. “but kenma, please i really really need you.” you continued with your antics and he paused his game, putting his controller on the coffee table. 

“fine you want me so fucking bad?” he grabs you by the hips making you yelp as he throws you down the couch. back hitting the cushions while he takes your legs and wraps them around his waist.

he pulls down his sweats pumping himself a few times as he rolls his head back, holding back his grunts. he slowly slides his cock into you, being easy to do considering how wet you were already for him. 

he groans as he bottoms out inside you starting steady, but slowly picking up the pace to be more..brutal.

“k-kenma..m’ feels good thank you thank you” you rambled out praises making him grab you by the throat to thrust into you faster. 

“god you’re so fucking annoying bothering me because you wanted to get your cunt stuffed like a little slut while i fucking work.” he scoffs making your eyes shoot open at him.

“such a fucking annoying little slut.” he continues his degradation thr grip on your throat not loosening. you felt you eyes grow teary as he continued to call you more vulgar names with the sprinkle of him calling you annoying. 

“ c-console...” you mumbled wrapping your hands on his wrists, making him let go of your throat. he froze getting closer to your face as he pulls out slowly.

“huh? Whats wrong does it hurt?” he asks rubbing away your tears with the pad of his thumb. 

your lip quivered as more tears started to form. “...i-im annoying...?” you looked him in his eyes as more broken sobs leave you.

“I just wanted some attention kenma...you’re always so busy sometimes I don’t even think you remember i exist..” you muttered feeling small under his cat like stare. 

he sighed kissing your cheek, falling to your. side feeling his breath hit your neck. “sorry baby i swear i didn’t mean it...you’re not annoying its my fault for not giving you attention.” he admits as you wrap around him. 

“y-you promise you didn’t mean it?” you ask once more. he sneaks a hand under your head to lift you up to his chest, patting your head softly. 

“ i promise. here why don’t you sit on my lap, we can do that thing you wanted to try last week...” he looks away embarrassed, you tilt your head in confusion but then realize what he was referring to. you nodded joyfully wrapping your arms around his neck, he adjusts himself for you to line up to take him. he  slowly puts you back down on his cock. hissing at the returning feeling.

He smiled kissing your forehead lightly as he hugged you tight. 

“better my love?”

“mhm mhm!” you said placing your head on his shoulder as you relax into him. slowly drifting away into sleep. its not much, but at-least it stuffs your very needy cunt.

matsukawa 

word count : 615

what lead to this? you two were just on a simple date together at a nearby mall shopping together, looking at upcoming movies, stopping by a few manga stores and bakeries to treat yourselves. overall, just enjoying the time shared together. 

that is t’ill the two of ran into your ex. issei watching the two of you talk to each other not realizing how uncomfortable you really were, hiding it with a friendly facade of course going unnoticed by him since he was practically death glaring your ex. 

he was basically third wheeling in your conversation with your ex. you would side eye issei hoping he’d pull you out of your situation but it was too late since his mind was cloudy with jealousy and rage.  

now, leading up to your current predicament. a heavy make-out now leading to a degradation fest.  

“aw whats wrong little slut can’t take me, fucking pathetic much?” he teases pounding you at a faster pace. “can’t believe my own fucking girlfriend was just there being all friendly to her ex..what don’t tell me you still want him?” he muses making you rapidly shake your head. 

“ no i don’t i swear issei..just wan’ you..”you muttered eyes growing puffy from how cruel he spoke to you as he continued to suggest away of how would get him back since it seemed like you missed him from how friendly you were acting.

growing quiet at his words trying to tune out his words. it’ll all be over soon anyways, you just had to hold on a bit you told yourself. of course you were an idiot for letting him keep going. 

“ maybe i should go ask how kimi’s doing act all friendly and nice towards her.” you tuned into what issei had said in horror at what he just said.

kimi, his much prettier ex who t’ill this day wasn’t over him and he knew this. throwing it in your face as he darkly chuckled at you. you removed your arms that were wrapped around his neck pulling him close. and cupped your face in your hands at the thought of your boyfriend going back to his ex. leaving you alone again.

he wouldn’t right? even though she was much prettier in every feature she had compared to you. he wouldn’t right..? right? 

“f-funeral...“you sniffled making him stop all his movements and lock eyes with you. your safeword ringing in his ears. 

“hey..hey no i didn’t mean it...” he quickly pulls you towards him, pulling you out of him and hugging you tight. he rocks you softly back and forth in his embrace letting all your bottle up feelings burst onto him.  he quick to comfort you and pepper a few kisses on your face.

“ issei..” you mumbled against his chest. he rubs your back looking down at you.

“yes baby..?” his voice shaken with worry hoping you weren’t too mad at him.

“ i-i don’t miss him.. i was only being nice..i was uncomfortable talking to him why didn't you..” he internally punches himself for being so blind and not being able to see by all your movements how uncomfortable you were just breathing the same air as your ex.

he was too blinded by his jealousy to realize his poor baby was scared. he mumbled a curse before apologizing.

“i’m sorry baby i didn’t realize he was making you uncomfortable i should've done something..” his eyes wander away from you.

“ i was just jealous..” he admits

“but issei.. you’re all i want.” you say kissing his cheek and he smiles gracefully. 

“am i-i all you want sei?”

“ duh pretty baby. everything  i want and need.”

matsukawas is so short i’m so sorry ahhhh but i hope u all enjoyed <3

[oviids]

pls share some of your spn fic recs 🥺🥺

ok, a few things first:

followers and mutuals who do not have supernatural brainworms, kindly avert your eyes

i don’t normally rec or even read much fanfic any more but this is a CRISIS ok (cont.)

there is so. much. content for deancas out there and i have incredibly high standards, several ancient ao3 bookmarks, can speedread, and want to spare you guys the experience of wading through it all.

i also have a section for spn femslash since I was pretty into that back in the day (sadly a lot less fan content for this :/)

I don’t really like au’s or pure smut (I honestly usually just skim or skip those scenes) so if you’re mainly looking for that kind of thing this probably won’t be very helpful to you. jsyk.

i’m not great at describing stuff but i’ll do my best, i’ll also try and add tw’s when neccesary.

i wil try and keep updating this with any other decent fics i find, feel free to rec stuff too since i’m like 7 years behind.(edit 1/25/21) this is getting looooong so i’m going to start making another list on my spn blog rather than update this one

(edit 1/3/21) since this has gotten pretty long i’ve added rating/approximate word counts and marked my particular favorites with an asterisk.

Dean/Cas fic:

So Says The Sword*** - explicit/85k. FUCK its good...au/time travel where dean is not pulled out of hell by cas and says yes to becoming the michael sword. honestly could serve as an alternative to actually watching the show, if you want to get into dean/cas without actually doing that to yourself.

Fata morgana.*  - teen/6k, pst s9 finale. very bela centric and i love it, she finds cas looking for dean in hell.

Redemption Road -misc/600+k. an incredibly long fic from a collaborative writing group back in the day. canon divergent from the end of s6 on, has a cool take on godstiel and the leviathans, as well as the lovecratian mythos connection. ngl when i reread it i only made it about 28% in but imo the casual reader can actually stop around there, the rest concerns a lovecraftian apocalypse that is still good (i think i don’t remember it very well) but not required to enjoy the first half. if you prefer i have an ebook version i can send you on gdrive.

Someone Who's Feeling For Me* - mature/45k, s12. they run into lisa braeden and dean thinks cas is into her while cas thinks dean still likes her. treats lisa way better than the show ever did and the miscommunication is pretty funny rather than annoying.

a turn of the earth - mature/95k. time travel fic where cas from s10 keeps showing up in deans life from a few years before s1 to right before the hellhounds take his soul.  slow burn, good character study, and at one point cas punches the dad in the face and it rules.

On the Wings of War - teen/85k, canon divergent s5. dean accidentally becomes the Horseman of War. plays fun, fast and loose with biblical lore, michael has some rights.

Named - mature/95k, alternate s5. EXTREMELY blasphemous in a fun sexy way. manages to predict metatron almost to a T. there’s one major character death and its literally jesus christ, everyone is very sad about it and it sets the rest of the story rolling. an alternate interpretation of cas’ mission to raise dean from hell which had me on the floor. ngl its kind of misogynistic at points, but its from 2010 and tracks with late oughts-2010 spn (sorry anna the author did you dirty here:/).

The Girlfriend Experience - explicit/15k. uhhh i don’t normally rec or even read smutty stuff unless someone i know is specifically asking for it but this has stuff like sam trying to be a good ally and dean thinking holding hands with cas is ‘kinda gay :/’ minutes after having gay sex with him.

i crippled your heart a hundred times - explicit/19k, s8. cas confesses his feelings and dean spends a long time getting his head out of his ass about it. truly hits different after the actual confession, despite being written six years early it feels like its actually what could have gone down more or less if the writers weren’t talentless demons who hate us.

My Roots Take Flight** - mature/125k. reverse au where cas is a hunter and dean’s an angel...OR IS IT???? an alternate retelling of s4. tw for briefly being set in a psychiatric hospital/the hospital being mentioned somewhat frequently throughout the fic, plus more references to torture in hell and heaven than usual.

The One Thing You Can't Lose* - teen/4k.you know those posts about how cas is a super-strong super-tough ancient warrior but he just lets dean tug him around because he likes it? thats it thats the fic.

Hands, From Which All Things Are Built - teen/14k, post s8′s ‘goodbye stranger.’ cas is on the run with the angel tablet but keeps in touch with sam and dean by text, he and dean still manage to be terrible at Actual communication.

Autrement, Danger - or, The Account of an Exceedingly Long Day - mature/30k, post s11. a monster that takes the appearance of your soulmate leads to some wild miscommunications and dealing with years of repression, also dean gets to see cas’ true form which is always cool. tw for non-graphic mentions of underage sexual assault/sex work.

Down to Agincourt - mature/explicit/900++++k, endverse continuation. endverse!cas survives his encounter with lucifer and discovers another time-displaced dean from s7. i’ve only read the two of four parts but its really good, veeeeery slow burn, has a lot of fun oc’s and takes a rather surprising but (imo) entertaining and intriguing turn into Hellenic history and mythology. usual tw’s for endverse/endverse!cas but nothing graphic, it’s actually pretty light-hearted (relatively speaking of course).

Nothing Equals the Splendor** - explicit/8k, THEE finale fix it fic you’ve been waiting for! posits that the entire final episode was just a (very bad and lame) djinn’s vision.

like moses and batman and james dean - explicit/31k, post s8. explores dean’s trauma and internalized homophoba from his technically canon experience with sex work and its impact on his relationship with cas. the sex work itself isn’t really shown in any detail but it’s still a relatively heavy fic.

Crazy Diamonds - explicit/25k, s4/alternate s14. fresh-out-of-hell dean and dean from 10 years in the future are displaced from time and sent to each other’s present.

where the weeds take root - explicit/30k. au where the men of letters kick them out of the bunker and they accidentally move out into the country, get over their codependence and semi retire. featuring chicken coop building, sam volunteering at a dog shelter, gardening, and blissfully mundane domesticity.

No Resting Place - teen/6k. djinn dream fic, switches back and forth between cas’ dream of being married to dean and retired from hunting to the aftermath when he wakes up. tw for brief mention of suicide since, y’know, djinn dream.

any port in a storm - mature/52k. post s8 finale. cas and dean have to pose as a couple going through a rough patch for a case and actually deal with their emotional baggage, cas struggles with being human and metatron is up to stuff.

all this and heaven too* - explicit/7k. in the author’s own words ‘...a love letter to every trans person who ever projected onto Dean Winchester.’ absolutely unzipped me emotionally and theologically, its just. so good. tw for very brief mentions of internalized transphobia/dysphoria.

Because it is* - mature/6k, finale fix it. killing chuck does not bring back anyone back and the winchesters spend a very long time dealing with what they’ve lost, cas and dean SOMEHOW still manage to have signifigant communication issues even after the confession. tw for suicidal thoughts/brief attempt.

Vena Amoris and Other Old-Fashioned Bullshit* - teen/4k, s6. when cas fell for dean it automatically soulbonded/angel married them, shenanigans ensue when dean finds out during the angel’s civil war. funny and actually written back when s6 was airing so cas is still (or at least pretending to be) kind of an OP asshole which is fun.

Rinse, Repeat - teen/3k, s8. angsty character study of cas as he’s reprogrammed and trained to kill dean. not really dean/cas since its just cas’ pov of canon events but its beautifully written and ends with him snapping out of it through the power of love (also now a canon event!).

Emergence - explicit/59k, canon divergent after s11. dean meets a hunter he only recognizes as their friend claire novak’s missing father, but soon realizes he might be the answer behind the mysterious void in his memories and feelings (aka everyone’s memories of cas are completely wiped away for three years).

Cuckoo And Nest - explicit/10k, early established relationship/character study, cas tries to figure out how he fits into dean’s life and space in the bunker.

Build a Home* - teen/20k, canon divergent s12. sam and eileen are cute and turn the bunker into men of letters/hunters hq and everyone but cas moves in, mutual miscommunication issues and pining ensues.

Down in the River - teen/5k, early s8, cas prays to dean in purgatory while sam and dean try to figure out a way to get him out.

Teaching Poetry to Fish* - mature/52k, ?? BC through the entire series/canon divergent s14 and 15. retelling of crucial scenes throughout the shows timeline from cas’ pov, feat. actual fish and poetry.

the minor fall, the major lift - gen/4k, post confession/finale fixit. dean goes into the empty to save cas and runs into several old friends (and enemies).

With the Kisses of His Mouth* - teen/3k, gen later seasons. dean and cas keep kissing by accident.

Remaining Grace - explicit/109k, alternate s6. au where cas asks dean for help with raphael and dean, of course, does. tw for temporary major character death/semi-graphic depictions of alcohol withdrawal.

The face of heaven.* - teen/10k, au, dean is a regular guy and cas is a fallen star (think ‘stardust’, kinda).

Stories Are Made of Mistakes*  - teen/5k. newly human cas has trouble getting used to a human body and humanity in general, but still figures out that he and dean are A Thing before dean does.

Hurry Up And Wait - mature/21k, canon divergent s12. a fairyland and quite possibly LOTR related case comes up and dean goes full fanboy, mary is introduced to the wonders of the peter jackson adaptions, many references and comparisons (including between cas and dean’s ‘friendship’ and arwen/aragon). also charle is still alive and has just been doing fairy stuff this whole time.

There Are Many Things - explicit/28k, s9. cas is extremely lonely/touch-starved and trying to figure out this whole human thing, as well as where he and dean stand after being kicked out of the bunker.

It's A Long Life to Always Be Longing - teen/40k, post s11 finale. amara helps dean by putting him in a magical coma so he can finally get some much needed rest and show him possible futures for him, sam and cas. meanwhile sam and cas go on a roadtrip (or several) to find componets for a spell to wake dean up. really good sam and cas friendship, they actually talk about their shared lucifer trauma and stuff.

Non-Photo Blue - gen/2k, s4/5/alternate s5. fifty moments from cas’ memories of dean.

Tall Grass - explicit/57k, canon divergent post series. cas becomes the ultimate plant dad. feat the wayward sisters gang, cathartic character growth, fun oc’s, domesticity, and lots of actual botanical info-dumping.

on vessels - no rating/gen/2k. established dean/cas, cas tells dean about how he used to imagine what it would be like to have him as his vessel.

search for tomorrow on every shore* - teen/11k, post-finale (extremely derogatory). some angels in jack’s new heaven act out and dean gets temporarily resurrected in 2003 and runs into his younger self.

Architecture of the Minotaur’s Heart - explicit/45k, very canon divergent post s1. dean’s new house seems to have a life and mind of its own, while in his dreams he sees glimpses of a world and apocalypse that never came to be and an angel that looks strangely like his mysterious neighbor, cas. loosely inspired by the book house of leaves (which i highly recommend for fans of weird horror).

The Distance Of The Setting Sun - explicit/17k, post s5. established dean/cas relationship, team free will finally takes advantage of cas’ abilities to go on vacation around the world.

diamond star halo - teen/5k, s11. dean lets cas use him as a temporary vessel while he recovers from rowena’s spell, sam is a long-suffering third-wheel.

Make Known** - teen/16k, s6/7. dean struggles to understand how cas could have become his enemy and whether he ever truly knew him in the first place.

blunt little instrument* - mature/1.4k, post finale. dean finally confronts his father in heaven, very cathartic.

my heart a compass*** - teen/10k, post confession. the empty forces cas to re-experience his most regretted moments while dean tries to snap him out of it and bring him home.

A Crash Course in Someone Else's History - teen/11k, s6. cas from the very start of s4 is brought forward in time by s6!cas to distract the brothers from his and crowley’s plans.

The Cuckoo Father - mature/8k, s7 au. the woman who found cas in the river post-leviathans does not marry him bc he was sent to her by god or whatever, but actually identifies him as jimmy novak and sends him back to claire and amelia.

The Dead Dean Clause* - teen/5k, post alt s5 ending. team free will celebrates surviving taking down lucifer by getting blitzed, cas lies to a cop and gets an impromptu driving lesson. title/description sound dark i know but it’s actually very funny and light.

Suck It, Judy Garland - mature/20k, s12 (after the ‘i love you...i love all of you’ episode). cas and sam have to pretend to be a couple for a case and dean is NOT happy about it.

By Daylight and In Dream - teen/16k, s5. pre-dean/cas, dean invites cas to use his dreams to hide from the other angels. tw for very brief mention of a memory/dream of alastair sexually assaulting dean.

The Five People You Meet in Heaven - mature/22k, post-canon. an actually happy (if sometimes bittersweet) heaven endgame written several years ago, though some details are rather eerily similar to the show’s ending.

heaven is a place on earth* - teen/2k. dean’s pov of some of the times cas left him behind throughout the show, and one alternate ending where he finally gets to stay.

I Cleanse The Mirror - teen/20k, alternate s6. dean’s body is stolen by an ancient elemental and his soul has to hitch a ride in cas’ vessel.

an exploration of gender; angelic*** - mature/4k. *oscar isaac voice* lets get into angel gender politics!! aka cas is trans.

Zenith - explicit/33k, s9. after 9x06 an angry witch curses cas with the ability to see supernatural beings and human souls.

La cucina. - gen/3k, alt s9. dean goes wild helping a newly-human cas find out what kinds of food he likes, or the early s9 domesticity we deserved!

Dean Winchester, Cocksucker at Rest***** - teen/7k, post-finale. john and mary finally come over for dinner and john reacts to dean/cas in a rather predictable fashion. SOOOOOOOOO good omg, its so funny and a little sad and very very cathartic. part of a series that has a few other really good short fics.

The Way You Didn't Go - teen/5k, s15. coda to 15.09, dean has nightmares about the moc!cas timeline.

On Drowning - teen/28k. dean saves cas after he nearly drowns, they both try and deal with the physical/mental fallout (aka the fic where thee iconic “you only touch me when you think I’m dead or dying” originates). tw for realistic depictions of drowning/triage/misc medical information.

The Thirty-Six Questions That Lead to Love* - mature/13k. claire has dean and cas pretend to be her gay dads for a case and they play the titular 36 question game, get mistaken for swingers, and birdwatch, among other things.

Assorted F/F stuff:

Deep Breaths* - mary/ellen, au where mary said no to azazel’s deal and let john stay dead, still becomes a milf.

Like Rebel Diamonds - krissy/claire, they become hunter gf’s on the hunt for cas to kick his ass for taking jimmy. not-so-stealth dean/cas as well.

To Ash and Bone - anna/ruby, same author as the previous fic (p much all of her stuff is good from what i recall). au where ruby is a witch and helps anna when she’s cursed.

Holy Clockwork Angels - jo/ruby, STEAMPUNK au with very cool worldbuiilding.

At Day's End - jo/anna (my fucking KINGDOM for more jo/anna content, the dean/cas parallels are allllll there), au where they are both at the camp in the endverse and gfs.

these posts - ok so not actually a fic but i’m now obsessed with this hannah/meg dynamic.

Tagelied - mary/ellen, the true story of how ellen got into hunting before angels interfered.

Hell's Bells** - meg/abaddon, alternate s8/9 where meg survives crowley’s attack with sam’s help and teams up with abaddon (who she has a sk year old crush on) to take back hell.

The Ecstasy of the Rose - anna/ruby, anna travels back in time to escape heaven and becomes a signifigant part of ruby’s old human life.

Angel Underground - anna/jo, kind of an urban fantasy au with a very intriguing premise (sadly its very short, i’d love to see more if this ‘verse).

Clover, Flame - billie/mary, billie was always the reaper that showed up to take mary after her death(s) over the years.

Drag Me To Heaven - anna/ruby, a variant on the ‘last night on earth’ thing with dean.

Come Home* - jo/anna, canon-divergent au where anna is the new waitress at the roadhouse and helps jo set up a (probably not really) haunted house for halloween.

[negasonicimagines]

Tell Me I'm Not Funny

Request: darkandmysteriousbutheartofgold!ellie and wholesomeanddoesn'tunderstandwhyelliedoesn'tlikeher!reader where they're both part of the friend group but ellie just thinks reader is straight and messing with her pls

Notes: I don’t usually write MCU!Peter, so if he comes up in any future fics (like as the reader’s stepdad 👀 I’ve loved spideypool longer than I’ve loved Negasonic) you can safely assume it’s Andrew Garfield. But, for this time, this is MCU!Peter. Everyone in the friend group is 18-20, just to be clear.

This really isn't my best work, but it's a fun little slice of life piece. A lot of my ideas are pretty cinematic, I can picture them in my head but sometimes those pictures don't really translate into words. I may revisit this one day.

Warnings: D-slur (reclaimed by Ellie in one line), allusions to prior assault (an unwanted kiss that could've been more had another character not stepped in), and that's about it. Oh, and a little swearing, but this is an imagine for a character from Deadpool. If you can't handle swearing, you're on the wrong blog.

Synopsis: You’re into Ellie, but she’s with your good friend Peter. She treats you like you don’t even exist, and in the few instances she does acknowledge you, it’s usually just to make some sarcastic remark. You’re head-over-heels, though, and decide to deal with your unrequited love by writing her a song she’ll never hear.

“Fuck, that movie was terrible,” Michelle groans. “I’m just glad it was a matinee show and we didn’t have to pay as much to see it.”

“The special effects were good, but can’t Disney just leave stuff alone?” Peter agrees.

“Next thing you know they’ll be making a live action Toy Story, as if the original wasn’t traumatizing enough. I don’t want to imagine Watermelon as a sentient being. She’s seen some shit,” you snicker.

“Who’s Watermelon?” Ellie asks with a dark chuckle, and you clam up. How had you forgotten she was here?

“Oh, uh, nobody.”

“Don’t tell me you still sleep with a stuffed animal,” she snarks. “You really do need to grow up.”

“Don’t be mean, Ellie,” Peter protests.

“Watermelon is cute, everybody likes cute things!” Yukio adds.

“I think a live-action Toy Story could be cool,” Ned says. “It’d look really good if they did stop-motion animation.”

“Oh, you’re right!” you chirp. “It’d be quite the undertaking, but it would look badass.”

“I think you’re using that term a little loosely,” Ellie grumbles, and you have to stop yourself from frowning, instead you laugh it off. Why does she always pick on you? Sure, she’s got a witty remark for everybody, but she’s way harder on you. It hurts, she really is so gorgeous and funny and mysterious and everything you want in a woman, but she acts like she can’t stand you.

Ellie and Peter head off together, Peter still hasn’t gotten around to getting his license and Ellie seems happy to give him a ride. You really don’t stand a chance.

You and the others pile up in MJ’s SUV for some late-night band practice.

“I don’t know if I can do it,” you admit to Yukio in the furthest row back.

“You can,” she insists. “You’re a way better singer than Lola, anyways.”

“I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to give her the wrong impression, I-”

“For the millionth time, Y/N, you didn’t. If she hadn’t left the band, we would’ve kicked her out. Not just for cheating on me, but for hurting you.”

“I guess,” you sigh. “Why can’t you sing instead?”

“Because I’m flat.”

“Yukio, breast size doesn’t have anything to do with singing ability, you’ve just gotta practice,” you joke.

“Shut up!” she giggles, punching you in the arm. “Plus, when you sing, the songs are being sung as they were written. We’re getting the real feelings.”

“Speaking of… I have something new I’m thinking about sharing tonight. Do you mind if I text you the demo?”

“Ooh, a first look! Hell yes!”

You text her the audio file and she puts in a wireless earbud, nodding along. Her smile gets wider and wider as she listens, and when she’s done, her assessment shocks you.

“Oh my gosh. You’re into Ellie.”

“What?!” you squeak. “No way!”

“You are! But, uh-”

“Don’t even say it. I know I don’t have a chance in hell. She only tolerates me for the sake of you and Peter.” Despite the gloominess of your tone, Yukio gets a mischievous glint in her eye, it confuses you. But, that’s just Yukio. Her thoughts are all over the place; she and Ellie balance each other out that way. They dated a couple of years ago, but it didn’t work out. They decided they were better off as friends.

“Screw that other song, we’re using this as the lead single. Everybody’s gonna love it, do you have the sheet music?”

“Yeah, uh, it’s in my bag.”

“Awesome.” Yukio’s grinning like she’s won something. Is the song that good? “We’ll have to practice this one a lot, we definitely need to have it ready by the concert this Friday.”

Right. Liz’s 19th birthday party. Apparently Peter had convinced her to let the band play, it’d be cheaper than hiring a more established artist.

“Our first paying gig? I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” you remind her. She scoffs and rolls her eyes.

“We’re mostly gonna be playing covers of Liz’s favorite songs, and she only has so many. We’ve gotta beef up the setlist with originals, and this is perfect! Has that pop-y fun vibe, it’ll fit right in.”

“Yeah, but if it’s that obvious how I feel about her after one listen-”

“Only because I already had a hunch after Daft Pretty Boys,” Yukio clarifies cheerily, and you sigh.

“Fair enough.”

The gang makes it to Michelle’s house, travelling down to the side door and going into the basement from there. MJ’s parents have encouraged her creativity from day one, and were ecstatic when the band was formed. You speculate that they’re mostly happy that she’s made friends. Writing and photography can be lonely hobbies.

“Y/N has something new for us!” Yukio chirps.

“That fast?” Ned’s surprised as you hand him the sheet music. He skims it. “Holy shit, this is a wicked solo! Thanks, Y/N!”

“Well, I’m hoping highlighting everybody else’s talent will disguise my lack thereof,” you chuckle.

“Don’t be stupid, we’ve all heard you sing backup,” MJ says. “You’re Ryan Ross, she’s Brendon Urie. I’m just glad we booted her out before she decided she was gonna be the only pangolin in The Pangolins.”

Everyone laughs at that.

“Let’s try it,” Michelle continues, and everybody agrees. After a sound check and a few runs of the song, it’s still clumsy, especially on your part. You’re not really used to playing and singing at the same time, outside of backup vocals, which require far less focus.

“I suck,” you mumble, but it happens to be into the microphone.

“You don’t!” Ned insists.

“With that attitude, we’re not going anywhere,” Yukio says. You hate it when she gets to the tough love stage of her support. You wish she’d stay in the shallow reassurances stage, it’s easier to brush off. “You wouldn’t be the lead singer if we all thought you sucked. We would’ve just put an ad in the paper. You’re awesome, get over it!”

You sigh.

“Fine. Thank you.”

“Say it,” she insists.

“I’m awesome,” you huff, it’s hard not to smile when Yukio tries to look serious.

“Damn straight,” Yukio says. “Or, I guess not, considering that was about Ellie.”

“Yukio!” you squeal.

“That’s about Ellie?!” Ned exclaims.

“Obviously,” MJ scoffs, fiddling with her tuners.

“Is it that obvious?!” You can’t help but feel embarrassed. Ellie probably knows exactly how you feel, maybe that’s why she dislikes you so much. Her boyfriend’s stupid friend has a crush.

“Wait, but at the beginning…” Ned trails off, before laughing. “Oh my gosh, I get it.”

“Get what? Oh… Y/N, have I ever told you how much I love you?” MJ asks.

“I- I love you, too?” You’re puzzled by their words, but you’ve got enough on your plate.

“Let’s go ahead and practice some of Liz’s favorites while we’re here,” Yukio suggests. “It’s a pretty big set list.”

You practice until dinner, getting a pizza and deciding to make a night of it since it was a little late for Michelle to be dropping you all off at your assorted residences.

You all sleep on a pallet in the basement, and despite your worries, you manage to get some rest.

Over the next few days, The Pangolins practice at every free moment, until it’s finally time for the party.

“So, just pictures of everything?” Oh, shit. She’s not supposed to be here. How are you supposed to sing that song with her here?

“Yeah! I know with how many people are coming, I’m probably not going to get as much time as I want with everyone, so pictures will be a good way to remember the night.”

“Why not just invite less people?” Ellie wonders.

“I want all my friends to be here,” Liz explains. “How’s the sound check going, Y/N?”

“It’s going great,” you say into the microphone, demonstrating the quality and volume with a smile. “Thanks for letting us play here tonight.”

“Well, Peter said you guys are great. Are you really gonna debut your best song so far tonight?”

“Oh, um,” you stutter, stepping away from the microphone. “Maybe not.”

“What? Oh, come on, please, it’ll make the night even more special! You’re playing covers of all my old favorites, sing me my new favorite!” Liz presses, but she’s not being demanding or bratty, she seems genuinely excited.

“If the birthday girl says so, who am I to say no?” you concede. Hopefully Ellie will be too distracted taking pictures. “You have way too much faith in me.”

“If you don’t quit with the self-deprecation, I’m gonna duct tape your mouth shut,” MJ interjects.

“But, Daddy, how will I say my safe word?” you tease, giggling at your own joke with the rest of the group. Yukio’s laugh seems the loudest. Ellie glares.

“We should practice a song!” Ned suggests.

“Ooh, a private show!” Liz seems excited.

“Any requests?” you ask her. Ellie’s resting scowl intensifies. If she’s more pissed off the more you open your mouth, you’re not sure how she’s gonna survive a night of you singing without going nuclear.

“Oh, oh, Girlfriend by Avril Lavigne, please?”

“You’ve got it,” you agree.

The song goes smoothly.

“What happened to the old singer?” Ellie asks, clearly unimpressed.

“You didn’t tell her?” you ask Yukio, grateful for the excuse to turn away from the sharp-tongued girl you adore.

“Didn’t want her to get the wrong impression,” Yukio explains. “She already makes enough rude comments towards you.” Yukio leans over her drum kit to give Ellie a pointed look.

“Oh, wait, shit, I didn’t mean it like that. You, uh, sound good, Y/N.”

You can’t help but whip your head back to look at her with a flabbergasted expression.

“What?! It’s true,” Ellie defends herself.

“Uh, yeah, but you just said something nice. About me. Liz, do you mind checking her for a fever?”

Liz obliges for the sake of going along with the joke before quickly withdrawing her hand.

“Jeez! I know you were kidding, but she’s burning up,” Liz declares.

“My internal temperature is higher due to my mutation,” Ellie quickly explains, looking a bit bashful. “Besides, I say nice shit about Y/N all the time.”

“No, you don’t,” the whole band says in unison, including you.

“Well, clearly I shouldn’t if everyone’s gonna make a big fucking deal about it,” she retorts, rolling her eyes. “I’m gonna go get some pictures of the decorations before there’s a bunch of fucking people here to block them.”

She stomps off in her heavy boots, and The Pangolins get back to work, putting on the final touches and making sure all the blocking looks right.

Soon enough, guests start flooding in, and Liz zips around to greet them, eventually meeting up with Peter and keeping him with her. He and Liz eventually pull Ellie away from her picture-taking, confident she’s done enough and needs to just relax and enjoy the party.

So much for distracting herself with work, she thinks.

They sit on the couch and eat, the dining room was monopolized by The Pangolins due to its elevation and space.

Ellie’s mesmerized by the way your fingers move until she hears Peter talking to Liz. They really are a cute couple.

“You really do need to hang out with us. Yukio told me Y/N thinks Ellie and I are a thing,” he says.

“Gross, you’re like my annoying little brother,” Ellie remarks.

“And you’re like my bitchy older sister,” Peter retorts with a shit-eating grin.

“Both of you, quiet! They’re about to play the new song. You’re in for a real treat, Ellie.”

“What does it have to do with me?”

Liz gives Peter a confused and slightly irritated look.

“I haven’t said anything to her, I didn’t know how,” Peter squeaks, blushing a little at the look in his girlfriend’s eyes.

“Explain, quickly,” Ellie demands.

But, then you start to sing again.

“Y/N-” Peter starts.

“Shut up.”

“But you asked-”

“I said, shut up,” Ellie insists.

“You know me as your boyfriend's goofy friend. I seem to have this effect on women, and your friends aren't as goofy as I am. I try my best to keep you entertained, always laughing at the jokes you are saying. I nod my head when you make a point, oh oh…

“Kiss me, kiss me with your eyes closed! Whisper that your heart shows all I want is you, yeah, you… Hold me, hold me I'm your bunny! Tell me I'm not funny, tell me I’m legit! ‘Cause I feel weak, in your hands and your feet… A precious end, I’ll never feel your touch…”

Ellie continues to listen to the song, all expression drained from her face. All the yearning in the words and your voice, all you want is…

Ellie looks at Peter, who’s looking at her with a triumphant smile.

“I told you.”

Ellie feels like she’s about to faint. She notices you’re talking to Liz— when did she leave? —your hand over your mic. Despite the knowledge that Liz is taken, Ellie gets jealous. You look so happy to be talking to Liz, to just about any girl you talk to.

She wishes you’d smile at her that way.

You nod at whatever Liz said, and the band starts packing away their instruments. Liz sets up her phone on some Bluetooth speakers, and songs that sounded so much better when you were singing them start to play.

No! Ellie internally protests. Sing for me again, please, sing that stupid song about how you think I don’t like you.

Yukio’s dragging you somewhere. Gosh, Ellie wishes it was her holding your hand.

Suddenly, though, you and Yukio are approaching her. She knows what she has to do.

“So, what’d you think of our- Eek! Finally!”

Ellie parts from the kiss to tell her to fuck off and not ruin the moment before kissing you again.

“Holy fucking shit,” you breathe. “Uh, I thought you were-“

“Dating Peter?! Seriously?! Do I need to write ‘dyke’ on my fucking forehead? I practically already have with the way I dress and act and-”

“I, uh, I try not to make assumptions,” you mumble, fingers touching your lips.

“I’m, uh, sorry for not asking.”

“No, it’s- It was good. I’ve wanted you to do that for a while. It’s just that that was the first time somebody’s kissed me, since, uh…” Your eyes dart to Yukio, who’s ruffling Ned’s hair and laughing.

“Yukio?!” Orange flickers in Ellie’s eyes for a moment, but she keeps it under control.

“No, no, of course not, uh… The old singer, Lola. She and Yukio were dating, but apparently I was the one she really had her sights on, and… She was entitled. Thought that because she wanted me, I must want her. That wasn’t really the case, I was already pining over you. Didn’t stop her from forcing a few kisses on me and trying to go further. If Yukio hadn't shown up early with cupcakes, I don’t know what would’ve happened.”

“I am such an asshole,” Ellie says softly. “Can I kiss you again? The right way.”

“I’d say what you did before was pretty right, but sure,” you consent.

Her kiss before had been rough, needy, and impatient. Just the way you like it. This, though, this is gentle, soft, and exploratory. You tangle your hands in her hair and kiss her harder. She moans into the kiss before pulling away, bewildered.

“That was…” Ellie trails off, trying to find a positive adjective that won’t sound to frilly or lovesick.

“A mistake, wasn’t it?”

“Oh, fuck, no. I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” she corrects you. “Just- Didn’t really know how. Even when you were kinda flirting with me at first, I just thought you were messing with me, so I- I am so stupid.”

“So am I,” you scoff. “I thought you were dating Peter.”

“I was spending a lot of time with him, but… I was just using him as an excuse to avoid you so I wouldn’t embarrass myself anymore. And I was asking him for advice. I figured if he could land somebody as far out of his league as Liz, maybe I stood the slightest bit of a chance with you. But I kept fucking it up. I’d just get so nervous, all of my compliments would turn into insults, all of my teasing turned into straight-up cruelty. I don’t know how you actually like me.”

“I’m a little bit of a masochist, I’ll admit,” you tell her. “I’m really glad you don’t hate me.”

“I’m really glad you don’t hate me,” Ellie replies, but she can’t help but think that what she‘s really saying is ‘I love you, too.’

She takes your hand, and you two rejoin your friends, swept up in a group hug. They wanted this to happen almost as much as you two did.

[matildashoney]

𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 // 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ~ 𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 ~ 𝐆𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀'𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆 ~ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @doubtfulwelshie, @meetmymouth, @theluketomypatterson, @morethanamelodyy, @hoodhoran, @nevertoooldtodancelikeamaniac, @rainbowparadiseharry, @glitterandharry, @summertimestyles, @millenial-teenybopper, @6616617228, @burberryharold​, @jesusidontcare1​

.・゜゜・ Harry  .・゜゜・　

Step left. Duck. Step right. Punch.

Step left. Block. Step right. Go for the gold.

The freedom of releasing bottled up anger loomed over Harry’s head, stimulating his need to showcase his overt power. Punch after punch after punch, delivered to his opponent's body and face, fueling the anguish he felt in his veins and the fury in his brain. 

“Okay! Harry, that’s enough!” a voice calls, but, naturally, Harry doesn’t listen. His ears are ringing, deafening anything outside of his own mind. Not that he can hear his own thoughts anyway as he blows hit after hit at Ryan, imagining it’s someone else he’s beating up instead.

His heart is racing as fast as his mind is swirling, his breaths shortening as his arms continue their relentless action on Dear Ryan, who can do nothing but just take it. “Harry!”

Then, there was the numbness. He felt arms tug him back forcefully, landing Harry right on his ass as he came to, his chest heaving up and down rapidly. Harry blinked once, then twice, then three times before taking a look around him. Mack, his trainer, was standing over him, a look of anger mixed with concern etched over his features as he gestured to the man laying flat on his back, spitting blood out of his mouth.

Only for a moment, remorse coursed through Harry’s body, because the last he remembered, they were both standing. It wasn’t the first time he’s lost control of his rage, and he was sorry that Ryan had to deal with the consequences of that, but at the same time, Harry didn’t give a single shit because it was Ryan’s job to play punching bag. 

“Do you wanna explain this?” Mack questions, helping Ryan up so he can go take a breather and get a look at his nose from the doctor. “Fuck, Harry, any more and you could’ve done serious damage to the poor kid.”

Harry hoisted himself up, rolling his eyes as he tugged his gloves off his hands. “Do you want me to win tonight? I sort of need to punch the shit out of people to do that.”

Mack stares at Harry with a cross look before scoffing, shaking his head as he places his hands on his hips, looking down to his feet. “Look, you need to get over her, H. All your focus is on Stella, but I need your focus on your job. That’s the most important thing.”

Technically if he’s focused on Stella, he’s better at his job, but Harry didn’t have the energy to start a fight over something ridiculous. Instead, Harry opted for a poisonous glare and bit his bottom lip to hold back any venom he easily could’ve spit out, walking past his trainer and making sure to bump shoulders along the way.

Mack has always been anti-relationships. 

Mack advised it from the start, when Harry signed up for his gym and kick started his career in boxing. “No dating. It’s not forbidden, but trust me, Harry, you don’t need them on your mind when you’re in the ring.” Harry never had to worry about that before, because dating wasn’t really his thing to begin with.

Until her. Until Stella. 

Harry decided he was done for the day, needing to rest up until his match that night. Not that he’d be resting much anyway, but he needed to get out of the gym for a bit, needed to clear his head.

Grey steel doors to the men’s locker room are no match for Harry’s unhinged anger, banging loudly against the wall behind it as they were forcefully swung open with a push from his hand. The few men in there jumped back a bit, heads immediately turning to the cause of disturbance.

Harry paid them no mind as he walked over to his locker, opening the lock and then swinging that door open too, causing it to bang into the one next to it. Despite the anger he released back in the ring, he still had enough resonating in his veins as he thought of her and as he thought of him. But immediately, as he glanced at the door of his locker, all anger dissipated for a couple fleeting moments as he stared at the filmstrip taped to the metal, the smile on her face, the smile on his face. All was better then. All was better when she was by his side. 

His Stella. Stella for star.

Sitting down on the bench behind him, Harry ran his battered hands over his face and then through his hair as he tried to stop thinking of her. But then the image of her smile taunted him, enticed him, tricked him into giving her another moment of his time. The pain in his chest and the pain in his head grew stronger as his thoughts spiraled, bringing up memories he tried so hard to push to the back of his head. 

Even when he was in the ring, thinking of his match later on, Harry couldn’t stop from thinking about her. He couldn’t stop his heart from sinking into his stomach at the thought of her face not being in the crowd cheering him on. He couldn’t bear it, knowing his Lucky Star wasn’t going to be there for him. 

That’s when all shades of red began swarming his sight, because she wouldn’t be front row, but instead with that fucking character she calls a duet partner. Then Ryan’s face morphed into his. Harry couldn’t stop himself. 

Shit, how he wished he could get his hands on that jackass. 

Harry nearly broke the wood holding him up from how tight his grip was on it, but, then one glance at her and his strength fell apart. 

And so did Harry’s mind.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been staring at her picture on his locker door, but when he finally gained back his grip on reality, he grabbed his gym bag and closed the metal, hurrying out of the stuffy room to get home. He ignored Mack’s lingering gaze, keeping his own eyes straight ahead as he stormed out of the building. 

Just when Harry thought he could catch a breath, a break, the warm weather outside touched his skin, nearly melting him to the ground.

Harry hated the heat. He much preferred the winter time because it always leveled his hot head, and the sweltering air mixed with his boiling rage never mixed well. Now, Harry was in an even sourer mood. Though, it slightly picked up when he realized the time on his phone.

Crossing the street, Harry began his walk in the opposite direction of home, quickening his pace so as to not miss her. He absolutely dreaded not taking his car to the gym that day. He dreaded it not only for the sweat dripping down his body, but because he had to pass a certain establishment on the shortest route to the studio.

Lucky’s Bar.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Harry had a bit of a habit of stopping time whenever he walked into a room. Or at least it felt like he did because despite the loud, rowdy music blaring through the tight bar, and everyone being focused on themselves and who they were with, all heads immediately turned to him when he stepped through the entrance of Lucky’s. 

“That never gets old,” Niall nudged Harry in the side, chuckling as people began to whisper to one another, sly-but-not-so-sly fingers pointing in their direction.

It wasn’t always this way. They really only started looking at him after news spread rapidly around campus about his new ... job. Otherwise, no one ever paid enough attention to notice he was in the same room. At first it was strange knowing people were watching his every move, but after a while, he stopped caring. 

One thing he learned over the past few months, is that not caring goes a long way.

Harry sat on the bar stool next to Niall, a bored look on his face as the bartender looked a bit starstruck because of who was sitting in front of her. “Two beers please. Bottled,” Niall requested, turning his attention back to his friend. “So, when’s your next match?” he wondered, mindlessly checking his phone as he waited for his girlfriend to text him of her arrival.

Harry thought about it for a second, not even remembering what day of the week it was. “Next Friday, I think. I don’t know, I’ll text you,” Harry shrugged, graciously taking the drink the bartender sat next to him, nodding his head in appreciation before taking his first swig.

They sat idly for some time, not wanting to join the masses standing on the dance floor. They could practically feel the humidity and sweat from the bar. Many girls tried coming over and flirting their ways into getting free drinks, but neither of the boys even blinked in their direction as they laughed over mindless nonsense and awaited Niall’s girlfriend’s arrival. 

And Niall’s girlfriend’s friend’s arrival.

A friend that was apparently a very good, a great match for Harry. Usually, Harry denied any setups Niall tried to throw his way, but this time the bloke wouldn’t take no for an answer. Apparently, Niall had a big feeling this one was going to be someone incredibly special.

Then that familiar text tone sounded, alerting them the girls had arrived, but they didn’t need the text to know that. Because - at least to Harry and Niall - time had stopped once again, but not because of Harry, but because of Libby and her friend.

Not that anyone else cared, but the two girls lit up the entire place. Their energy radiated a glow that was unmatched to anyone else in the room, leaving Niall and Harry in awe. Of course, they turned the heads of jerk offs that whistled when they walked by, but their eyes were set on the boys waiting for them.

“Hi, baby,” Libby greeted, quickly kissing Niall on the lips before giving Harry a soft smile and kissing him on the cheek.

The other girl greeted Niall just as happily - minus the kiss on the lips, opting for a hug instead. Her curly hair sat behind her in a low ponytail, a few front strands hanging loosely over her face. 

Then, her eyes met Harry’s.

Ever since she walked into Lucky’s, Harry had a hard time keeping his eyes off of her, and now that she was up close and personal, he took the time to really admire her features, her figure, her long legs that seemed to go on for miles.

Before she could introduce herself, Niall clapped Harry on the shoulder, waving his other hand between the two, “Harry, meet Stella.”

Much to his surprise, Stella leaned in for a hug, wrapping her arms around his shoulders in a warm greeting that he never usually received when meeting a girl. Usually, Harry was met with a bat of fake eyelashes and fingers tracing his biceps. 

She stepped back after a few moments, a kind smile stretched over her lips. “You must be the boxer.”

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Harry stands in front of the bar for a moment, thinking back to all the times he sat on the wooden stools with his girl and their friends and drank to celebrate the winning of another match. Of course, yeah, he’s been back since then, and he’s been back with his friends since then, but it’s not the same without his hand intertwined with hers and the feeling that he had when walking in with her tucked under his arm. Harry used to soak in the stares and the jealous whispers of other men and women when they walked in together, to know that he was the luckiest man alive, in those moments. His Stella, his Lucky Star, at his side, and yet he was the lucky one. 

Harry knew Stella liked the attention a little bit, too, as much as she hated to admit it. Stella liked knowing that her man was the champion, the star, the winner. Stella liked seeing Harry win. That’s why she was at every match, every single one. 

That feels like a lifetime ago, and it was barely a year ago. One year ago, when Harry royally fucked himself over with her and his world flipped upside down.

.・゜゜・ Stella  .・゜゜・

Aerial. Tombé. Pas de bourrée. Pirouette. Calypso. Aerial. Tombé. Pas de bourrée. Pirouette. Calypso. Aerial. Tombé. Pas de bourrée. Pirouette. Calypso. Aerial. Tombé. Pas de bourrée. Pirouette. Calypso.

That’s what Stella Smalls is going to do over and over until she can get it perfect. Until there’s not a hiccup or a side step or a misplaced toe or fingertip in sight, completing the perfect combination from her fingertips to her toes. That’s what Stella has to do, to be known as one of the best dancers in the world.

“God damnit,” she grumbles, wiping the sweat on her forehead on her hand and brushing her bangs away from her skin, heaving out a heavy breath and leaning over her knees, taking a minute to catch her breath. Her legs ache with how much she’s been practicing, and she’s happy to have the night off. 

“Come on, Stella,” she says to herself, psyching herself into repeating the combination a few times more. “Come on. This isn’t child’s play. This is the biggest competition you’ll ever do.”

Her words seemingly do the trick, the ache in her thighs and feet suddenly disappearing and fading into the background of her mind, her only focus going to the specific point in this song where this combination would play out to the perfect rhythm if she does it correctly. Her favorite song is playing over the speakers, the building bridge and chorus resounding through the mirror-lined studio, waiting for her to try and try again. Her song choice is making it all the more difficult to focus, especially with knowing who is across the street, and how much this song is about him, as well. 

It wasn’t their song, for the short two years they were together, that was something else, something a bit too hard to touch. Their song, “Undeniable You”, the song they danced to at two in the morning in her tiny kitchen and the song they played in the car on their way to the gym and the studio and the song they played when they were making love into the early hours of the night. That was their song and it was untouchable, their song that she truly couldn't use as her competition piece for the World Title.

Stella hadn’t originally wanted to do the song that she’s currently dancing to. That wasn’t her intention, especially not fresh after their parting ways and it was raw, so raw. However, when her instructor heard the song and was approving the World Title submission under her studio’s name, she suggested that she channel her emotions that she was feeling towards the song into choreography. Stella was competing for a world title under her studio’s name. Could she really say no? 

Nearly a year later, with the competition only three months away, River Daniels and Stella Smalls are practicing their duet for the world title to a song that she once associated with a man she was in love with, is in love with.

“Love,” Angie calls through the studio, walking into the quaint room with light bamboo flooring and three long barres hooked onto the walls amongst the mirrors, staring at the young girl with concern etched into her features, “maybe you should take a break. You’ve been here since eight, this morning.”

“What time is it, now? Have somewhere to be around three.” Stella wonders curiously, oblivious to how long she’s been at the studio and been working. Muscles ache inside her body, her feet crying out for a breather, and yet she keeps pushing, keeps forcing herself to repeat the combination until she finds it perfectly aligned with the rhythm of the song.

“It’s nearly two, Stella,” Angie says assuredly, sounding nearly disappointed in the way Stella has been pushing herself since she found out who her competition was for the title, and the stakes that are at large, waiting for her.

Should they win, Stella and River will go on a world tour with nearly a dozen other dancers, doing master classes and teaching young dancers the way to the title, and the money that would be split between the two of them would allow for her to finally open her own studio in town.

There’s this empty building that she has been eyeing for nearly five years, dreaming that one day it would be the studio of her dreams. There is space for three different rooms, three studios within one, and there are a multitude of opportunities waiting for her in this space if she just had the money. “The Lucky Star Academy”, she would name it, after the one that always told her that she would be the best studio owner in town. He wasn’t that clever for giving her the name.

Stella’s name does mean “star”, after all. 

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Harry’s knuckles were all bloodied and cut, the skin tearing and ripping at the base of his hand after rubbing against his gloves after he stupidly forgot to wrap his hands before the match. Typically, Stella reminds him, but today, she was in her head, worrying about the bank’s call and the meeting she had with the loan advisor and the conversation she had with her mother regarding how much she would offer as a loan until her business started and took off like everyone knew - or had a feeling - it would, and Harry was worried about comforting his girlfriend, to the point where they had to call him out of the locker room to make sure he was ready for the match. Stella was worried that he would lose the match because of how much worrying he was doing for her, but of course, Harry being Harry, won within the first ten minutes in the ring.

“Stell, the bank is going to approve you,” Harry said too surely for Stella’s liking when they were back in the locker room, cleaning his knuckles. “If not, like I said, I could give you the money. It’s not a big deal.” Stella glares at Harry for that secondary comment. “Okay, it’s a big deal, but I can loan you the money, Lovey. I’m not hoarding all this to myself. Makes sense to share it with the ones I love, does it not?”

“It does, but I don’t want to start my business by owing you money, Harry,” Stella says frustratedly, wiping the blood from his hands and kissing the skin of his knuckles sweetly. Stella was always the most gentle soul with Harry, even when he didn’t necessarily deserve it, and he cherished the way she loves him, the way she cares. “My studio can’t start that way. It’s just, I can’t.”

“Name it after what I call you, at least. Let me contribute the name, Stella Bella.” Harry grins so widely Stella can feel her heart giving out and falling into his hands, like it always does. “My Lucky Star. Maybe you’ll be somebody else’s, too. Mine first, always, though.”

“First and foremost,” she says, shaking her head at the nickname, one of many of what her boyfriend has called her over the years, and sighs deeply, laying the flannel on the sink beside her and letting his hands fall to her waist, holding her between his legs and kissing her shoulder, “you’ll always have me as your lucky star, the one and only.” Harry’s dimpled grin makes her stomach flutter with butterflies. “Secondly, ‘The Lucky Star Academy’, I like the sound of that.” Harry smiles wider, this time, leaning upwards and kissing her jaw. “Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

“Very nice ring to it,” Harry agrees, brushing her hair behind her ear and holding her chin between his fingertips, kissing her sweetly, deeply, smirking when she pushes his shoulder lightly and takes a step away. “Come on, lovey. One more kiss before you leave me.”

“I’m not leaving you,” she says matter-of-factly, shaking her head and nodding towards where the door is swinging open with men walking in and out. “I’m leaving the room for you to get changed, you stink.”

“Come shower with me,” he whispers, standing on his feet and bringing her into his chest, the clamminess of his skin sticking to her fingertips as she lays her hands against his abdomen. “Not like any of these blokes actually shower here, anyways.”

“Girl in a locker room disappears into the showers and Harry Styles is nowhere to be seen,” Stella scoffs, shaking her head adamantly and brushing his hair away from his forehead, the floppy tendrils of his hair falling to his sweaty skin. “Very likely that everyone will know what’s happening.”

“Stella Smalls,” Harry says warningly, clicking his tongue and grabbing her face between his hands, “don’t ever call yourself just a girl, ever again. Hear me? Much more than a girl to me.”

“All right, all right,” she concedes, pecking his lips quickly and walking towards the locker, grabbing all his belongings and shoving the clothes that need to be washed in the tote bag he brings to every match. “Go shower, I’m tired and want to go home.”

“I’ll shower faster if my Lucky Star comes with me,” Harry teases, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and walking towards the showers in the corner of the locker room. “Come on, Stell. One time.” Stella sighs, looking between the phone, where she is impatiently waiting for a phone call, her belongings, and her sweaty boyfriend standing all too enticingly at the edge of the tile flooring. Stella begrudgingly sets their things in the locker, oblivious to the buzzing that’s vibrating from her phone, and hurries to Harry across the locker room floor, smirking as he says, “That’s my girl. My Stella.”

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Knocking on the studio door pulls Stella out of her trance, again, the song playing over and over again in her head with tears in her eyes as she forces a smile to the familiar man in the window. River is standing at the glass window, watching his partner perfect the leap combination for their routine without saying a word. Her knees are bruised and tainted a purplish-blue color that looks like it hurts like hell, and River silently reminds himself to schedule a day to practice even more to be on her level of dedication. River smiles at Stella softly, opening his arms and bringing her in close, hugging her tightly and humming contently as her arms tighten around his midsection and return the embrace.

“Looks great, Stella,” River smiles excitedly, wiping a bit of sweat from his forehead and taking a step away, looking at her face and taking in the distracted glances she’s making towards the window to the outside. “Harry’s coming, isn’t he? Walks you home from the gym and all that.”

“Always on Saturdays,” Stella says shyly, almost slightly embarrassed by how much she looks forward to the weekly walk with her best friend, which happens to also be her ex-boyfriend, the person she’s choreographing this routine about. “It’s our only time to really talk, you know? Alone, at least. He’s so busy during the week, I’m busy teaching. It’s not going to distract me, River, I promise.”

“You say that, Stella,” he says concernedly, shaking his head and clicking his tongue, shrugging his shoulders slightly at the thought of the two getting back together when he’s started to develop feelings for her beyond their partnership and friendship. “There’s already chemistry there, though. That’s hard to deny when you see the way he looks at you, the way he looks at me when I’m with you. Like he wants me removed from the planet or something.”

Stella knows that Harry wants River removed from her life, completely. He doesn’t need to say anything for that to be abundantly clear. That doesn’t mean she’ll say that, though. “Oh, c’mon, Riv, it’s not that bad. He’s not that cruel.”

“If Harry knew that I liked you in any capacity, which is not me saying that I do,” River says with his hands held in the air in surrender, “I would be pummeled into bits. You know it as well as I do, Stella.” River says this surely, quirking his eyebrows at his friend and cocking his head to the side knowingly, shrugging his shoulders when she crosses her arms in front of her chest defensively and sighs. “Not your fault he’s protective of you, Stella. It’s not your fault he’s in love with you.”

“Harry isn’t in love with me. Not anymore, at least.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” River shrugs his shoulders, “Hell, what do I know, though?” He takes Stella’s hand and twirls her beneath his arm, smiling brightly when she laughs and falls into his arms, hugging him tightly. “Practice tomorrow?”

“Of course, yeah,” she says with a bright smile, leaning onto her toes and kissing his cheek, her eyes rolling slightly when she sees her ex-boyfriend nearly foaming at the mouth outside the studio at the sight. Harry tries to hide it, Stella knows this, and that’s why she never says anything when she sees his facial expressions change or the way his hands clenched into fists when he sees River with his hand on Stella’s back as they leave the studio. “Come to the fight, tonight. It’ll be fun to have everyone there. This is his last match before the International Rounds.” River nods silently and opens the door for Stella to walk through, Harry immediately grabs her hand and pulls her into a warm hug. “Hi, Harry.”

.・゜゜・Harry  .・゜゜・

With old memories rehashing in his mind - which brought him the most happiness he’s felt in a while - Harry for fucking sure wasn’t expecting to see that slime-ball hugging his girl, replacing those memories with the anger he thought he suppressed, for now, at least.

Harry knew his face contorted into a deep scowl, burning red as he saw the interaction happening before him, and he couldn’t help his knuckles turning white from his fists clenching insanely tight. He knew how furious he looked. Hell, he knew how crazy he looked, but that didn’t stop him from tugging her away from her partner the moment they walked outside. 

Harry wraps his arms around Stella’s shoulders, pulling her close to him, but keeping his eyes on River. “Hi, Harry,” she murmured into his chest, before she pulled herself away and looked up at him. For the first time in those fifteen seconds, he diverted his attention away from him and looked at his girl, a smirk lining his features. 

“Hello, lovey.” And, spitefully - arguably, without a single care - he leans down and places his own kiss to her opposite cheek. As soon as Harry stood back up to his full height, he could see in Stella’s eyes that she was pleading for him to not cause a scene. He decided to respect her wishes, this time, but that didn’t stop the threatening glare he sent River’s way. “C’mon, let’s get you home. Think I can take a nap there?”

Stella looked over her shoulder at her dance partner, giving him an apologetic look. She knew he wasn’t nearly as scared of Harry, as Harry would like to think, but that didn’t stop her from being worried. River waved her off unapologetically, saying, “I’ll see you, tonight.”

Harry’s head quickly snapped to look at Stella, eyes widening and mouth falling agape from his words. He, too, looked over his shoulder, then, just to see the man getting in his car and then speeding off down the road. Harry was confused. He was baffled. And of course, he was angry. 

What does that mean?

As far as Harry knows, they see each other for practice during the week, for tech rehearsals, and for the performances, but never for anything else. Stella and River were only dance partners, not friends. That’s right, isn’t it? 

That’s when his greatest fear started coming to life. The realization hit. Harry could lose Stella, for good.

Harry stopped in his tracks, no matter how badly he wanted to get out from under the blazing sun. Stella stopped, too, confused as to why he was just standing there. “What’s wrong?”

The real question was: What isn’t wrong?

“What did he mean by that?” Harry hissed, bringing his bottom lip into his mouth, biting down harshly on it, but surprisingly, not drawing any blood. Harry knows that they aren’t officially together, and no matter how much, how badly that eats him alive, he knows that she has free reign to be with whoever she wants. Stella’s his Lucky Star, though, and, truth be told, he doesn’t think he can ever be without her in some capacity, for as long as he’s still breathing, as long as he’s on this planet. And, truthfully, it pains him to think that she would want to be with anyone that isn’t him. 

Sometimes, Harry wonders if she feels the same way.

“By what?” she asked by raising her eyebrows, confused as to what he was talking about. Then, seeing Harry biting on his lip with an excruciating grip, seeing the anger bubble back inside of him, Stella put two and two together, and figured out that he was talking about what her partner had said. “Oh, seeing me tonight? Oh my God, Harry.” Stella started laughing at this, beginning her walk, again, to her apartment. 

Harry was stunned for a quick moment before he followed after her, falling into step with her. He kept his eyes locked on her, watching her shake her head and and keep her eyes trained on her squeaky clean, white shoes. “What?”

“He’s coming to the fight.”

Harry was tempted to stop walking, again, but knew she wouldn’t stop this time, and would probably leave him behind. “No, he isn’t,” Harry responded, completely dumbfounded to the idea of Stella bringing up his fight, and then going the extra mile to invite her dance partner to it. He didn’t understand why she would even think of doing that, because she knows he doesn’t like him. It’s almost as if she enjoys making Harry angry - which could be the only possible explanation for why she invited him.

Stella looked up at him, tilting her head to the side, “Excuse me?”

“He’s not coming to my fight,” Harry scoffed, pressing the button on the crosswalk, waiting for the signal to keep walking.

“Are you being serious right now?” she questioned, crossing her arms over her chest, turning to face him completely as they stood on the corner. Deep down, Stella knew Harry was being serious, but didn’t quite want to believe it. Harry’s always had this possessive hold on her, ever since they started dating. Honestly, when they were together, it was cute, it was funny, even, it stemmed from the love he had for her. Now, though, it’s infuriating, it’s toxic, and it’s painful. 

It’s also kind of sad.

After Stella, Harry closed himself off to the world again. He sticks to his same few friends. He doesn’t date. He continues to revolve his world around Stella. Constantly. Stella’s trying to grow, and move on, but he makes it impossible for her, because, truthfully, Harry has no one else. It’s sad, but it’s also insanely frustrating. “First of all, it’s a public event, so technically, River’s more than welcome to be there. Secondly, I’m not your girlfriend, H. I haven’t been your girlfriend for over a year. And Harry, you need to get that through your head, because I’m tired of telling you.”

Clicking of the cross-walk sign began, signaling it was time to start walking, again, which Stella happily did as Harry once again found himself stuck in place. This wasn’t how he imagined his day to go, and he certainly didn’t want to keep talking on the topic, but he couldn’t stop himself. It’s like a vicious cycle of trying to prove that she still wants him in some capacity, that she would choose him over someone else, even though she’s proven time and time again that she doesn’t, that she wouldn’t. Stella is over Harry, and Harry refuses to accept that.

Harry allowed a few moments of silence between them, a comfortable silence as they walked on towards her apartment, letting her think she had gotten the better end of the argument. Then, Harry continued. “Has he got a ticket?”

Stella sighed, “What?”

“For the fight. Did he buy a ticket? Or are you gonna use my name to get him in?” Harry’s association is the way she and any of his friends ever get in without paying. Tickets always sell insanely fast, near instantaneously, so Harry doubts River actually has one to get in. He knows Stella is going to get him in, and Harry’s lucky to have the upper-hand in the situation, because he can easily make it where there’s a specific guest-list - one that doesn’t have him on it. “I’ll tell the guard to blacklist him, Stell. He’s not coming.”

Stella rolled her lips into her mouth, fighting off the urge to spit venom that could put a wrench into whatever this relationship of theirs was. She didn’t want to continue moving backwards, but Harry made it really, very difficult to push forward. Stella shrugged, keeping her eyes ahead of her, “Fine, then neither am I.”

Stella only ever went to his fights because Harry asked her to, not because she had any actual desire to be there. Having to watch her once-boyfriend get punched in the face was never a sight she could fully stomach, and if his unwillingness to see her friend was this strong, then it only gave her motive not to go. 

Harry opened the door to her apartment building once she put the code in, allowing her to enter first. Quite frankly, he doesn’t care if she doesn’t want him to follow, because he does anyway. The idea of Stella not being there for his fight deepens the pit in the bottom of his stomach, and thickens his fear of losing her. 

It’s like this: when Stella is there, Harry knows he’s gonna win, when Stella’s not there, that familiar feeling isn’t in Harry’s gut, and all he feels is uncertainty. Harry can feel the victory gliding through his veins when he steps into the ring, seeing her front row, clapping and whistling and rooting for him.  Calling her his Lucky Star started off as an inside joke, simply because of the meaning of her name and where they first met. After she started coming to his fights, though, Lucky Star became quite literal, and he can’t go without her. 

“Of course you are. I need you there.”

And when they finally got to her front door, Stella inserted her key and unlocked it, but didn’t enter right away, confusing Harry. Stella stood there, facing him, his hand on the door nearly blockading her against the small wooden door, a small smile on her lips. “Okay. Then, River comes. He goes, I go.”

Harry and Stella held a staring contest for what felt like minutes, neither of them willing to back down - both, with the eye contact and the argument that hangs over them like a dark, miserable cloud. Finally, Harry sighed, closing his eyes and dropping his head so his chin hit against his chest. He was in no position to keep fighting her, especially if continuing meant jeopardizing her attendance, tonight, in particular.

His favorite smile, a full smile broke out onto Stella’s face, and she couldn’t help reaching up to kiss him on the cheek. Twisting the golden doorknob, she allowed them both into her home. “Did you still wanna take that nap?”

Harry rolled his eyes, stepping inside and shrugging off his tee shirt before the door could even fully shut. “I’ll be on the couch if you need me.”

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Fifteen minutes until showtime. Fifteen minutes and Stella still wasn’t there.

Harry left her with plenty of time to get ready and to get her friend to come with her. He left her apartment nearly thirty minutes before they had to be at the gym, giving her enough time to get dressed - she was never one for makeup, if she wasn’t on stage - and make her way to the gym long before the match would start. Stella should be here, by now. She’s always early.

Harry was nervous, but not because of his fight - because there was no sign of Stella. Mack has tried to get his mind off of her, but he was basically talking to a wall as Harry kept pacing around the  locker room, clenching and unclenching his fists.

“She’ll be here, H,” Libby tried reassuring him again, but like Mack, she was ignored. After Harry left Stella’s apartment around four, that was the last time he saw or heard from her. Usually, she would send him a text that she’s on her way, but he’s received nothing. The only reason Harry could think of why this is happening, is because of that prick of a dance partner. Harry always drove Stella himself, before their separation, and afterwards, she always sent a text when she was coming. 

Now, the one time River decides to tag-along, there’s no word from her. If Harry didn’t hate him already, he certainly does now.

Niall offered Harry a beer, which he greatly accepted, gulping it down in seconds before crushing the metal of the can in his palm. Then, the locker room door swung open, and a frenzied Stella walked in with a sheepish look on her face.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry, there was a crowd outside that was impossible to get through,” Stella rushed out, coming straight over to Harry and engulfing him in a hug, knowing he must’ve been worried, ignoring the concerned looks on their friends’ and her friend’s faces. Stella was cutting it close to when Harry had to get out there, and she just blamed it entirely on the traffic and drunk crowd of old men, and she knew that wasn’t going to stick with Harry.

“Great! Stella’s here, now. Can you fucking sit down?” Mack hissed, rubbing his temples as he could feel his headache fading away. Stella shyly pulled away from Harry, ignoring Mack’s hardened stare, and made her way over to her friends, greeting them in her usual manner before snagging her own beer from the cooler; and when she pulled out another, that’s when Harry realized the leech that was in the room, too.

Taking a deep breath, in through his nose and out through his mouth, Harry did all he could to ignore River’s existence. He had to remain civil for Stella’s sake. That was the condition of her being there, after all.

“Stell, you didn’t text me,” Harry spoke up, gaining back her attention. 

Stella looked at him with a furrow in her brow before patting her jean pockets and then reaching into her small purse hanging off her arm. “Shit, I forgot my phone back at my place. I’m sorry,” she apologized, only then realizing that she completely forgot her phone and, therefore, forgot to text Harry and confirm her appearance, like she usually did. Stella stepped closer to Harry, lowering her voice so that only he could hear. “I told you I was gonna be here, though.”

Harry looked down at his shoes, biting his lip, biting back his words. Harry wanted to tell Stella he was nervous that she wasn’t gonna show, wanted to tell her that he was worried, wanted to tell her so much. Instead, Harry reached over to the bench where his duffle bag was, pulling out his gloves and offering them to her. “Can you put my gloves on for me?”

It was a bit of a tradition for Stella to put Harry’s gloves on his hands. As if her being there wasn’t enough luck, this action was also a tiny good luck token that Harry always needed before he went out. Stella hesitated for a brief second, not knowing if this was actually a good thing. There was essentially no harm in it, but knowing his reasoning - that it was for good luck, she is his good luck - kind of felt like a punch to her gut. Of course, though, she reached for them anyway, slipping one and then the other on his fists before tightening the straps and knocking the fists together. 

“Good luck, H,” she murmured, giving his right and left fist a little kiss, before dropping his hands all together. 

The little kiss sent a shock through Harry’s spine, because that was something she never did before. A wide smirk formed on his lips, his nerves completely vanishing as confidence swarmed his veins. He stood back up to his full height, saying, “Don’t need it now that you’re here,” just loud enough for her friend to hear on the other side of the room.

“Alright, let’s go!” Mack shouts from the locker room door, holding out Harry’s robe and guard for his mouth.

Harry’s black robe was slipped over his frame as they all walked out of the locker room and into the hall. The bass-driven music was pounding throughout the venue, eliciting a roar from the crowd, because the fun was about to begin. The announcer could be heard, hyping up the audience as he waited for the cue that opponents arrived to their positions. 

Niall, Libby, Stella, and River separated from Harry and Mack, making their way towards their reserved seats in the front row. Harry was barely paying attention to whatever Mack was telling him, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet and cracking his neck as they waited.

Then his name was called. And everything became a blur.

The crowd erupted, he walked to the ring, Mack put his mouth guard in for him, and then the familiar bell of the match sounded. His opponent was no bigger than he was, which was good for him because it called for an easy win. The guy managed to get a few good moves in, delivering a hard right hook straight to Harry’s jaw. All he could see was black for a couple of seconds, but once he regained his composure, the first thing he saw was River’s arm wrapped around Stella’s shoulder.

She was motionless as she watched Harry, hands clasped together and under her chin as she hoped for him to win. It was like she didn’t even notice his arm was on her, and Harry can’t decide if that makes it worse.

The anger from earlier today at the gym, and from picking Stella up, and from Stella being late boiled back inside of him. The look on his face was a deadly one as he spat on the ring floor, raising his fists back in the air, ready to strike. His opponent looked terrified for a quick second, but he too raised his fists, nowhere near ready to give up.

Harry won.

Scary part is, he doesn’t even remember it. 

One moment he’s standing there, the next his arm is being raised in victory as the referee declares him winner. His breathing is heavy, his heart is beating rapidly, and his body is drenched in sweat. He feels hot and disgusting, so he walks over to Mack in the corner, who’s waiting with a towel for Harry to spit his mouthguard on to.

He receives compliments left and right as he makes his way backstage, but he practically ignores them all as he searches for the only one that matters. Her face pops up within seconds out of the crowd, and then she’s making her way towards Harry, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, not caring about the sweat and the stickiness of his skin. “Knew you’d win.”

“I always do when you’re here,” he hums, pecking her cheek and shrugging his shoulders, leaving one arm slung around her, raising his eyebrows in a cocky manner, basically saying I never lose. Stella hums in response, shaking her head at the cockiness, before needing to find the nearest bathroom, stating she’ll be back in a few minutes. 

Niall and Libby didn’t stay for long after the fight, so all that was left was Harry and River. Alone. Alone, while Stella was in the bathroom. Harry tried really hard to ignore him, but being alone fueled the fire in his mind, and couldn’t help himself. “What do y’think you’re doing?”

River was surprised at this, because as far as he knew, he wasn’t doing anything. “Excuse me?”

Harry scoffed, unraveling the tape on his hands, clenching his jaw as he looked up. “Never seen you two so … close, before.”

River shoved his hands in his pockets, shrugging his shoulders. If he was supposed to feel intimidated by Harry, he wasn’t. Who Stella decided to be around was her own decision, and it wasn’t any of Harry’s business what their personal relationship was. Not that it was anything more than friends, Harry didn’t need to know that. “Well, someone has to be there for her. Y’know, after all the pain you caused.”

After all the pain you caused. Harry swallowed at the thought. Their breakup weighs heavy on him, and not a day goes by where he doesn’t think about the pain he caused, the pain that ensued afterwards. He knows he hurt her badly, and he’s not so sure anything could ever make up for what he did, but knowing that others know he hurt her made him feel uneasy. The worst part of it all? Knowing that he wasn’t the one she cried to, confided in, needed support from. 

River was, any of her friends were, but not Harry.

He gripped the bench he was on, mulling over the idea of Stella seeking River out to talk about her relationship problems, and praying Stella would come back quickly before he does something he regrets. Before he could say anything back, River made the decision to keep egging him on, leaning his back against the wall by the door. “Harry, you gotta let her go, mate. I think we both know this will always end badly between the both of you. ”

Harry stood up from his seat, stalking across the room, ending up right in front of River, barely a foot of space between them. Harry doesn’t like the way he says his name, venom and distaste found in every syllable, almost as though she could never see it. “You don’t know shit about Stella and I.”

“Don’t I? I know a lot more than you think, Harry Styles. If you love Stella, you’d stay away from her,” he spat back, narrowing his eyes into slits, taking his hands out of the pockets of his jeans. 

Harry wishes it was that easy. If Harry could physically stay away, he would. She doesn’t deserve the trouble he brings and he most certainly doesn’t deserve her. Love isn’t that easy, though. It can’t be that easy. Stella’s his girl. There’s no one else for him. He can’t let her go.

“You’re bad for her. Can’t you see that?”

And just like that, Harry’s fist came in contact with River’s cheek. The dancer’s body was thrown off his arrogant balance, nearly toppling over onto the floor from the brute impact. Harry gripped the back of his shirt, throwing his back against the wall he was just perched on, taking hold of his jaw so he had nowhere else to look but at him. Harry tilted his head to the side a bit, leaning in just a bit closer so his hushed words could be heard, just between them two.

“You’re gonna go. Stella is my girl, and I won’t go down without a fight - which we both know you’ll lose. So you’re gonna leave her alone, got it?” Harry hissed, tightening his hold on River’s jaw, which any tighter, he could probably break.

River wasn’t happy, that much was evident, but he knew when to give up. Harry was a force he had no time or effort to reckon with, so unwillingly, he nodded his head. His face was dropped, and Harry stepped back, clapping him on the shoulder with a condescending smile as he pointed towards the door to the locker room. Holding his tender face, River gave Harry one last middle finger before walking out.

Harry let out a sigh of relief, knocking his head back so he was facing the ceiling. The deep pit that had been nestled into his gut all day finally vanished, and he finally felt at peace. He could finally get the idea of Stella with anyone else out of his head and maybe, just maybe, get their relationship back on track to what it used to be. For that to happen, though, Harry needed Stella to fully trust him again, and he was still struggling with how to gain her forgiveness. Because anyone that knew Stella knew that she could hold a grudge.

He didn’t get much time to think about it though, because after a million years, Stella finally came back from the bathroom. “I swear, I just don’t think today’s my day. I went into one stall and it didn’t have toilet paper, and the next one didn’t either, and ... Hey, where’s River?” she suddenly wondered, stopping mid-ramble to look around the room, seeing it was just Harry in there.

“Said summat about not feeling good, left a couple minutes ago. I’ll drive you home,” Harry disclosed, tugging his clean clothes out of his bag so he could go take a shower quick before they left.

“Oh, that’s odd. He seemed fine before. I hope he’s better for rehearsals tomorrow,” she spoke worriedly, making a mental note to text him when she gets home. They only had three months until the competition, and they haven’t really performed the dance together yet. They’re already on a time crunch, so him being sick really didn’t help their case.

The whole time they were alone together after Harry’s shower, not a single word was exchanged between them. It wasn’t a necessarily awkward tension between them, but it wasn’t the most comfortable either. The journey across the parking lot to Harry’s car was silent, and then the car ride was only filled with the quiet lull of the music on the radio.

When they arrived outside her building, Harry put the car in park, but Stella didn’t jump to get out just yet. She played with the ring on her finger - that actually used to be Harry’s, gnawing at her bottom lip gently. She was pulled out of her thoughts when Harry placed his hand on her thigh and smiled slightly, and Stella knows exactly what Harry’s going to say. It’s the same every week, every match.

“Thank you for coming.” 

Stella glanced up at him, pulling a small smile across her lips, slowly nodding her head. For some reason, she could feel tears and anguish building up inside of her, causing her to look away quickly as she reached for her purse on the floor between her feet. She placed her hand on the door handle, ready to pull on it before turning back around to face him for one last time in the night. “Congratulations, H. I’ll see you soon.”

Then she was gone, and that unmistakable pit in Harry’s stomach resurfaced. 

.・゜゜・ Stella  .・゜゜・

Stella can see her anger. That’s all she can see at this moment. Bright red. Burning anger. Fueling rage. Usually, Stella knows how to channel her anger, to calm herself and bring herself back to Earth and level herself out without making a scene. However, right now, Stella absolutely cannot. All of her rage is targeted at one person, one person that she swore she’d never take the time to be this angry at ever again. 

Harry.

Stella hasn’t been this angry since she and Harry broke up over a year ago, since the moment she stepped on the stage and realized that the one person that she wanted to be there wasn’t there at all. Stella hasn’t been this angry since Harry blamed it on oversleeping and forgetting, since he lied to her face and tried to win her back with broken promises and empty words. Stella hasn’t been this angry ever in her life, and it’s beginning to make her skin hot and her face sweat with the rush of it all. 

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

“What do you mean you’re through?” Harry asks angrily as he begins pacing around the bedroom that he and Stella practically share at his apartment. Stella’s old place was nearly empty by the time they were dating for six months and she was about to sign the final paperwork to end her lease and move in permanently with him. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” Stella says harshly, shaking her head and sucking back tears that are threatening to fall. Stella can’t cry. Not right now. Harry can’t see how broken she is over this, over everything.

“Is this because I missed the performance? Is that what all this is about?”

Stella sets her clothes in the suitcase and looks at Harry with tears in her eyes, biting back a laugh and sucking in a deep breath, one singular tear falling down her cheek as she stares at him. Harry looks broken, as if someone’s dug a knife into his chest and twisted at the seams. In a way, Stella is glad he feels this way, this hurt, this pained, because maybe, just maybe, Harry would understand how she felt to win and be completely alone, without the one person that she wanted there.

Stella’s mind goes back to the memory of the competition, of how she felt. 

Stella stepped onto the stage with nothing but joy and pride in her eyes. Stella’s first national title was about to be won as long as she scores high enough, and that would mean she would be one step closer to earning the money to open her own studio. Her mother, Luna, is in the audience, Harry’s mother and sister, all of their friends are there ready to cheer her on. Harry should be there, his flight landed nearly an hour ago, and he said he was going to come right there to watch her. Harry promised that much.

Stella performed her very best, danced the best she’s ever done, earned a standing ovation from the audience and the judges and a perfect score on her sheets. Angie hugged her tightly as she came off the stage, River shortly behind, her eyes looking expectantly out in the crowd to see her family and friends and searching rather impatiently for the one person that she wanted there the most. Harry wasn’t there. Harry wasn’t there at all.

“Of course, that’s what this is about, Harry! Are you dense?” Stella shouts without meaning to, frustration lacing her voice and making it nearly impossible to keep level headed. “You missed the most important competition of my career. For what? Because you overslept? Because you didn’t want to fly?”

“Stella.”

“Wait, were you sleeping with that one girl? What’s her name? Molly? The one that’s been following you around to all your matches, lately?” Stella seemingly has made up her mind before Harry’s even opened his mouth to respond. “That’s it, isn’t it?”

“No, Stella. I have never and would never cheat on you,” Harry says sternly, shaking his head and taking a cautious step forward, his chin dropping to his chest when Stella takes a step away from him. “Don’t believe me, that’s fair, but I swear to you, I never cheated. I overslept. I got lazy and missed my flight. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

“God, Harry, grow up! You’re such a fucking hypocrite!”

“I’m not a hypocrite,” Harry grits through his teeth, shaking his head and cracking his knuckles, clenching and unclenching his fists to try and gain control of his anger. He always had a bit of a temper. 

“How would you feel if I missed one of your matches? One of your biggest matches, because I was too tired from dance and from work and didn’t want to get on a flight.”

“I would understand, Stella,” Harry lies, trying desperately to soften his eyes and make her believe him. He wasn’t trying to manipulate her into staying, per se, but he certainly wouldn’t admit that he would be furious at her, that he wouldn’t take an apology and would likely need a few days to cool off from how angry he would be. “Maybe I wouldn’t understand, I would be angry. I wouldn’t break up with you, though.”

“No, Harry, you’d just give me the silent treatment until I begged you to come home and apologized for days,” Stella says confidently, anger lacing every word that she’s spitting out and making him all the more able to see that he won’t be winning this argument any time soon. “I know you, Harry Styles. I know you better than anyone, and I know how angry you’d be at me. Harry, you wouldn’t speak to me for days if I missed a match. And yet, you can miss my biggest competition, which I won, by the way, and try to get away with it scott free, without any repercussions. It doesn’t work like that, Harry. Life doesn’t work that way. Just because you’re good looking and a good boxer doesn’t mean you can just get away with anything!”

“I’m not trying to get away with it, Stella. I said I’m sorry!” Harry booms, his voice travelling around the bedroom and echoing in her ears, the velocity of his voice against the thin walls making sure their neighbors must’ve heard everything. Stella, frankly, doesn’t care at this moment. All Stella cares about is getting the hell away from Harry Styles. “Stella, please don’t go. I need you. You’re my lucky charm. I’ll fuck up if you’re not there.”

“That’s it? That’s why you want me to stay - because I’m good luck?” Stella asks astonishedly, shaking her head and zipping her suitcase even faster than she originally planned on it. Stella thought about making things dramatic, dragging it out slowly and surely, but of course Harry had to go and say something absolutely ridiculous to make her even more angry. Harry doesn’t know how to watch his mouth. “Fuck you, Harry.”

“Stella, I love you,” Harry says as a final plea, taking her wrist in his strong grip and turning her around, forcing her to look into his eyes. Stella’s expression is lifeless and cold, her honey eyes darkened and worn with anger. Harry doesn’t recognize this Stella, he doesn’t recognize her at all. This isn’t his Lucky Charm, his Stella Bella, his Stella. This isn’t his girl. This woman hates him. Hates him a lot. “Stella, I’m so fucking sorry. I love you. I want you because I love you. I don’t care about the stupid, bloody fights.” Stella looks at Harry knowingly. “Okay, I care a little bit. It’s how I pay for my life. It’s my job, Stella. I was tired, and I thought it wouldn’t matter if I missed one competition. I wasn’t thinking. That was wrong of me. I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”

“Harry, you need to grow up. I would do anything for you, quite literally anything, and you couldn’t even get on a plane to see me perform on the biggest stage I’ve ever performed on, for a national title, for me. I lied to your family for you. I lied to my family for you. I lied to our friends. I told everyone your flight got delayed and you were watching the livestream. I won’t do that again. I won’t lie to the people I care about for you, ever again. I’m not going to put myself in that situation,” Stella says sternly, shaking her head and yanking her wrist away from Harry’s grasp. “Maybe one day we’ll make it work, but you need to grow up. Harry, you’re jealous and immature and you think the world revolves around you. News flash, it fucking doesn’t.”

“My world doesn’t revolve around me, Stella,” Harry shouts as Stella begins walking out the door. “It revolves around you! Everything I do is for you, Stella.”

Stella looks at Harry longingly, as if she wishes that the words were enough to make her stay. “If your world revolved around me, Harry, then you would’ve been there, and I wouldn’t be walking out the door, right now.”

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Knocking on Stella’s door came early, a bright seven in the morning with the sun freshly risen, a few hours before she was meant to meet River at the studio. They were meant to rehearse for a few hours at the studio, before Stella would go to the gym and meet Harry for his training for the match that was in a few week’s time. That Stella knew. That was all in Stella’s mind as she wrapped a robe around her figure and hurried to the front door where the knocking was incessant and repetitive.

This, though. This, Stella had no idea about. 

Stella opened the door, dazed and confused by River’s appearance, hurrying him inside and making a cup of coffee for them both. River had a bruise the size of a fist on his cheek, and a scrape along his forehead that makes it seem like he was smacked into the ground.

Immediately, Stella knew. Stella Smalls instantly knew who the culprit was and why it was happening. It made her furious. Harry always had a bit of a temper, a bit of a jealousy issue when they were together, but it was never anything that she couldn’t handle by herself. This, though, was too much.

“Look Stella, I love you. I love you as my friend,” River says softly, taking a sip of the coffee she’s set in front of him apologetically and running his finger around the rim. “I love you as a dancer, I love you as a partner, I do. I don’t want you to think that I don’t.”

“River,” Stella says hesitantly, knowing exactly where he’s going with his sentence, going exactly where she doesn’t want him to go. This could ruin her life, her chances at winning the title, of opening her own studio this year. This could ruin everything. All because of Harry.

“I can’t be your partner anymore, Stella.” There, River said it. Stella knew that was going to be it, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting like a bitch. “Can’t be your partner, Stella, not if you’re going to be friends with Harry and he’s going to be around all the time. Harry is, quite frankly, Harry is a mess to deal with and a temper and a lot. Know that it’s not fair to make you choose, and I don’t plan on making you choose.” River is too good for Stella. Way too good. “I think you need to do this piece as a solo act for the world title. Stella, it’s so good. It really is. You’re going to perform it wonderfully on stage.”

“Except you can’t do it with me,” she says, toying with the rings on her fingers and clenching her knuckles together into fists, fighting the urge to smack her hand against the marble counter.

“Right,” he says regretfully, dipping his head to his chest and letting the air puff out between his lips. “I’m so sorry, Stella.”

“I, um, I think I need to be alone,” Stella sighs, saying every word with regret and shame and anger, sadness lacing every syllable. “I don’t understand, not really, but I’ll try to. Honestly, though, I just want to be alone, right now.”

River simply nods quietly and stands from the barstool at her kitchen counter, walking towards the entryway of her apartment and opening the front door. “I’ll see you at the studio?”

“Mhm,” she hums without saying a word, discontentedly drawing a circle around the rim of her mug and not daring to look away from the ceramic cup in her hands. 

“Bye, Stella,” River says as he walks out the front door, regret and sadness lacing his voice. Stella wants to punch him in the other eye for feeling pity for her. He should’ve been stronger, acted tougher, not let Harry get to him. Maybe Harry should’ve left him alone. “I’m sorry.”

Her head slowly nods and her eyes stay cast on the marble counter that she’s leaning on. Stella doesn’t want River to see her cry. Angry cry, that is. 

All of Stella’s anger is channeled towards Harry. All of it. Every ounce. There is not one bone in her body that isn’t infuriated with Harry Styles, that wants to punch him in the face and yell until her cheeks turn blue. Harry ruined her chance at the World Title by doing this. He’s ruined her chance at opening her own studio. He’s ruined it. 

Harry is at the gym, that’s easy to know. He always is. This calms Stella, knowing exactly where to go and what to do. Maybe not what to say, but that will come with her anger as she ruminates in the frustration. Stella wipes her tears from her cheeks, readies herself for the day - which includes wearing one of his training shirts and jeans and trainers - and hurries along to the gym down the street, rushing inside and bursting through the doors to see the man of the hour, pummeling away at a free-standing punching bag, sweat dripping down his forehead. 

“Harry Styles,” Stella shouts, walking in and commanding the attention of everyone in the room. “Harry Edward Styles!”

“H,” Mack says, ripping an earphone from Harry’s ear and nodding towards where his ex-girlfriend is angrily walking towards them, hands balled into fists. “Got a visitor. An angry one.”

“Stell, what are you doing here so early?” Harry wonders confusedly, brushing his hair away from his forehead and sucking in a deep breath, slowly taking the gloves off his fists and tucking them under his arm. “Are you okay?”

“Am I okay?” Stella scoffs, throwing her head back in a thick and pained laugh and lifting her hands in the air with a smack to her thighs. “Am I okay? River quit today. Quit the whole fucking routine. All because someone made one too many threats about being with me.”

“Have no idea what you’re talking about,” Harry shrugs, walking away and pushing the door into the Men’s Locker Room open, waiting for the yelling to diminish, especially considering how many people were staring in the center of the gym. He reaches his locker, ignoring the calling of his name behind him and opens his locker, shoving his gloves and mouth guard into the metal container and taking a towel and wiping the sweat clinging to his forehead. His hand slams against the locker next to him, causing a banging sound to resound through the quaint space. 

“Don’t walk away from me, Harry,” Stella shouts from outside the locker room door, waiting rather impatiently for him to exit, and when he doesn’t in a near thirty seconds, she’s storming inside after him, ignoring the calls and squeamish shouts from the grown men changing in the midst of the room. “Fuck, Harry, you’re such an asshole, you know that! Making my partner quit on me, three months before my competition!”

“Awfully cozy with someone that’s just your partner, Stella,” Harry says sarcastically, drawing out every syllable and taking a step away from the locker, and standing with his hands on his hips as he stares at her, taking in the beauty that she gives off so effortlessly. “Not to mention, I didn’t make him quit. I simply said that he needed to take a step back. Coming to my fights with you. Kissing you. Making a show with you. That’s not what a partner does.”

“Harry, I’m not your girl anymore! I’m not someone you get to be jealous over and fight over! Get that through your thick head!” she screams angrily, huffing a breath and ignoring the stares that she’s receiving as the remainder of the men in the locker room leave the two to argue quietly.

Harry cracks open his locker and reaches for his water, his eyes falling to the photographs that are still stuck on the inside of the metal door. “Of course, that’s what you think, Stella, but, you’ll always be my girl.”

Harry can’t shut the locker door before Stella sees the photostrip, the three photographs of the two of them from their anniversary two years ago. “Is that?” Her eyes well with tears at the thought, the photographs that she searched high and low for after their breakup to try and hide away with all of the other things that she saved in a wooden box beneath her bed, all the photographs and memories that she wanted to keep for the day they, maybe, got back together like she had thought about, at first. “Have you kept them all this time?”

“Not like you were going to want them anymore,” Harry says spitefully, slamming his locker shut and walking towards where she is, setting his hands on either side of the locker that she’s standing against and holding her between his arms. “Not like you wanted me anymore.”

“Harry, don’t,” she says sadly, slinking beneath his arms and walking towards the locker, turning his birthday in the pin and opening the combination, her hands reaching for the photostrip and running her fingers along the tattered photographs, reminiscing sweetly on the memory. “Did you know I looked everywhere for these? I wanted them.”

“Wanted them for what, Stella? To what? Throw out?” Harry is angry, clenching his hands into fists and getting ready to take the photograph out of her hands before she can take them and run away with them. That’s the last thing that he has of Stella that isn’t broken and shoved in a bin beneath his mattress. That’s the last thing he has left of when his Lucky Star was his.

“No,” Stella sniffles, wiping her eyes and sticking the photograph back on the metal wall of the locker door. “I wanted to keep it for when we got back together, you prick. I thought, I thought we’d get back together. I didn’t think we’d stay apart.”

“Don’t say that if you don’t mean it, Stella,” Harry warns, stepping around the bench separating them and leaning one hand on the locker next to Stella’s head, her thumbs tracing over the photographs where she’s hiding in his neck laughing and he’s holding her tightly, the one where they’re kissing and smiling and they look happy, because they were. Harry and Stella were so happy together. Harry softens looking at the tears on her cheeks, and cautiously leans forward to wipe a stray tear from her skin. “Stella Grace, look at me.” 

Cautiously, Stella lifts her head and meets Harry’s stare, his intense green eyes staring back at her longingly and - dare she say - lovingly, his thumb going under her chin and holding her face to his. “What, Harry? I’m not sure what else you could possibly want from me. Especially now, when I have no duet partner and the World Title is only three months away. You’ve royally fucked me over, Harry.”

“I am so sorry, Stella. I didn’t think River would quit.” Stella looks at Harry knowingly, threateningly, as if to say, I will leave if you don’t tell me the truth, and that whips Harry into shape. Harry can’t let her leave. This is selfish of him, of course it is. Harry loves Stella. Love can be selfish sometimes. Can’t it? “Okay, well, I hoped he would. I wasn’t thinking about you, though. That was selfish of me. I’m sorry. I love you, Stella. I act selfish and stupid when I think about you with someone else. It makes me do crazy things. Stupid things. Tell me what I have to do to make it right, Stella.”

Stella thinks for a minute, really contemplating all that Harry has said and how she feels and the emotions that are rushing through her in that moment, everything feeling a bit too much and like she needs to break away and find herself in the studio dancing over and over until she can make sense of everything. That’s what Stella does - Stella dances to make sense of everything. That’s when it hits her.

“Dance with me.”

“Huh?” Harry chokes out, shaking his head immediately and wondering how in the hell Stella came up with that as what he needed to do to win her over. “Stella.”

“Harry, you need to dance with me, or you need to leave me alone. That’s it.”

[medusinestories]

Black Sails, IV (S1, ep 04)

- Silver's horrified face when he finds out he's going to have to roast pigs is a Journey, starting with shock, then fake smiling, and then this horrified shuddery expression. It's just as interesting when they drop the dead pig at his feet and he clearly doesn't know what to do with it and also finds it disgusting. I can absolutely see where all the Jewish John Silver headcanons come from, especially since it's unlikely that a London urchin has never seen a dead pig and raw meat in general before.

- Here we have the first performance of Cassandra DeGroot: he knows that the bay they'd chosen to do the careening was too dangerous, and warns the crew. He's immediately countered by Flint, who has much more persuasive arguments to get the careening done fast but in a risky manner. (this whole thing reminds me of our current COVID/climate situation, where scientists get talked over by politicians, and people prefer listening to the latter because they seem to offer much better prospects than the “catastrophist” former)

- In this episode Billy is now quartermaster and he shows himself to actually be really good at disciplining the crew, something Gates, DeGroot and even Flint recognise. However, he also agreed to do the careening only because he's afraid to say no to Flint and allowed the men to have a fuck tent, which he feared would distract them - and it did, the two men who placed the rope on the wrong tree decided not to follow his orders and go fuck instead. This all weighs on him enormously after the disaster with Randall and Morley, who accuses him minutes before his death of already being in Flint's pocket. It's pretty clear that more responsibility doesn't do Billy's mental state any good.

- Morley's story about the Maria Aleyne gives some idea of a timeline, albeit a faint one. The incident took place "a number of years back", before Billy joined. This means that Billy is a somewhat new addition to the crew. We know that Randall was bosun when Billy joined. This also establishes that Lord Hamilton has been dead for several years, which now begs the question: who is the Lord Proprietor that Richard Guthrie is now in touch with? Did Thomas have a younger brother who inherited the Bahamas? Was someone new appointed? Was there a gap between Proprietors that allowed the pirates to establish themselves even more after Lord Alfred's death?

- I just adore the fact that Miranda actually went to stinking, violent Nassau because she was just too impatient to wait at home and wanted to be there when the Walrus came in and immediately hear the news of Lord Alfred's death. She is that vengeful and angry and I love her <3

- Speaking of which, this episode gives us the Passive-Agressive Sex Scene which makes so many people doubt of Flint's attraction to Miranda. Just look at Flint’s face: this man isn't uncomfortable or sad he is PISSED. He plays starfish and glares at Miranda all through it (while maintaining an erection all the same!). Miranda must be hella frustrated (or determined) because she manages to get off in spite of all of this (also, how uncommon is it for a sex scene to end when the woman climaxes rather than the man?) It's only when it ends that both Flint and Miranda are both shown as vulnerable and sad and reflective, with Flint reaching up to touch her but not quite getting there - imo because he's still angry but knows that she (and he) needs comfort.

- This leads into the argument over Meditations, and Miranda explicitly talking about Thomas and not wanting to forget him. The book hasn't been touched in a long time, confirming the idea that Miranda shared it with Richard Guthrie because Flint refuses to touch it. Her grief, her loneliness, are incredibly poignant in this scene, and we see Flint shift from bristling and stonily glaring at her, to absolutely melting (Toby's facial expression shifts here are just *chef's kiss*) and finally being gentle and tender with her. However, even though he promises to make things better, Miranda clearly doesn't believe him anymore.

- This brings in a big theme in the episode: betrayal from people you care for/trust. Mr Scott asks Eleanor not to do anything rash in order to get the Andromache’s guns, only to discover her Plan B: to kill Bryson if he didn't comply. In the meantime, Richard Guthrie tells (a very sceptical) Miranda that he can only support Eleanor and Flint, because he pretty much has no choice in the matter. He then proceeds to betray his daughter by making a deal with Bryson and with Mr Scott, who’s still smarting from Eleanor’s betrayal and who Guthrie tries to convince by saying that Eleanor's endeavour will lead to her death and Nassau’s destruction (considering what we later find out about Mr Scott, Eleanor’s safety is probably not be the argument that actually compels Mr Scott - but he certainly doesn't want the Navy searching the area and finding Maroon Island, and needs a stable Nassau to continue supplying his island).

- The Undercooked Pig scene and Silver's attempts at communicating with Flint will never not be funny. Silver looks so small when Flint glares him down, but that doesn't last all that long: once Flint has taught him how to cook the pork, Silver seems much more bold, asking Flint how he learned to glaze the pig, insisting that Flint should trust him and not Billy. This is also a moment where Silver shows that, unlike Flint, he is incredibly perceptive: he noticed that Billy is "straining at the seams" because of the lie he told. And while Flint spits a "there is no we" and calls Silver a rodent, it's obvious that Silver's words still have an impact on him. Their collaboration is sealed when Silver hands him the cleaver so that he can save Randall (and himself). When Flint returns the cleaver to Silver, he's ready to accept that Silver is actually on his side (albeit for selfish reasons) and listens to him for the first time.

- Max believed that she could charm Vane's remaining crew into being kind to her - and overall it seems to have worked. While again I hate this plot, it does give an interesting insight into how even the worst pirate crew is portrayed: most of the men are happy to comply with Max and get sexual rewards "for gentle obedience". Most of them, basically, aren't violent monsters deep down. However there's always one, in this case That Big Bastard (I'm sure he has a name, I just can't be bothered to google it), who clearly gets a kick out of torturing/raping people and hates the idea of a woman taking the lead.

- Fuck You Jack is another theme of this episode. Vane is high on opium and booze and has basically lost the will to do anything. Anne has been courted by several other crews, but Jack hasn't received any offers (note there's no loyalty to Vane here, Jack’s ready to leave, but nobody will have him) and nobody is willing to help him after the pearl cock-up. Then Noonan wants Max back, which Jack refuses because she's the only thing keeping the few members of his crew loyal - and Anne isn't on board with that, leading to her telling him to fuck himself. This, btw, might have crossed Jack’s mind considering the position she was in when he found her. I think it’s easy to forget that Jack is portrayed as pretty callous and happily willing to treat people like pawns too.

- When Richard Guthrie talks about Nassau, he describes it as a place "a place where she [Eleanor] matters, a place where you [Mr Scott] matter", and adds that a place like this isn't meant to last. Nassau, then, is currently an utopia where women and black people can have some semblance of power - and he doesn't believe that this will ever be allowed to exist because this kind of story never has a happy ending in their current society. But when Flint talks to Eleanor about their project, he's of the opposite view: people don't believe that it's possible, but when they succeed, they'll say it was inevitable. It seems Flint is firmly in the camp of "winners get to tell the story", and that the story will influence how the rest of the world sees them.

- When the Walrus tilts and squashes Randall, Flint stops Billy from intervening and rushes to rescue Randall himself - even though he knows the ship will be cut loose at any moment. He puts himself into incredible danger in this moment. Why? Theoretically, it could be for a manipulative purpose: to look good to the crew, or to get rid of Morley. But Flint seems genuinely involved in the struggle to save Randall, and he barely had time to think before he ran off. I feel that this is a rare spontaneous moment for Flint, where instead of thinking about his plans or his position as Captain, he just thinks like a person in an emergency who wants to rescue someone else. He absolutely could have died out there. And while Billy seems to suspect him of having killed Morley, I don't find that reading compatible with what we're shown of Flint trying to save Randall. True, he may have kicked/pushed Morley at the very last second, but we’ll never know that for sure.

- Back to the theme of people betraying their loved ones, we have Richard Guthrie getting back to Miranda, telling her he knows who she is and revealing the "Thomas went mad because Miranda and Flint cheated" story which he heard from Lord Alfred himself. So now Miranda knows that her identity has been revealed and that Richard could spread the story to, say, Pastor Lambrick (let's not pretend this didn't cross her mind, she keeps her identity secret for a reason). And then Guthrie offers her a way back to civilisation. This, right after a kid threw a stone at her, calling her a witch. This, after Flint has promised to make things better, even as he goes deeper into reckless/utopian plans of fortifying Nassau. Backed into a corner, was Miranda ever going to refuse, if she could be safe and have him be safe? And obviously, Richard Guthrie isn't doing this out of the kindness of his heart. He apparently figured out that Miranda was a way to get in touch with Pastor Lambrick and that ridding New Providence of Flint and winning over the “good”, normal inhabitants would be a perfect beginning to buying back his influence on the Island - the end goal being named Governor, of course.

- If there was any doubt that Vane’s tough guy thing is part of an act, his opium hallucination of Eleanor makes it crystal clear: "you're alone, you don't have to pretend with me". That is, pretend that he's not afraid and that he's not vulnerable. The hallucination also offers Vane an explanation for why Eleanor is how she is: like him she's afraid of appearing weak. He's actually spot on, a big problem in their relationship is that they're too alike and are struggling for dominance. Which is probably why Vane wants to overcome his fear and weakness, and regain power by confronting his old slave master (btw, nice parallel with Flint haunted by Miranda in S3). The scene where Vane kills Noonan also shows him in a very animalistic light - at first he's cornered and somewhat pathetic, beaten, throwing up, only saved by the fact that a gun misfires. Then he turns violent: quick, instinctive and relentless, deaf to Noonan's plea to leave him alive, even if theoretically it could have been profitable for him.

- I have to say, I snickered quite a bit when Pastor Lambrick sees Richard Guthrie and tells him "God teaches us not to cheer when someone stumbles, in your case I may ask his forgiveness". I mean, I really see his point. He leads a group of Puritans who are trying to make a life for themselves on this island. Historically, people who lived and farmed in New Providence were constant targets for errant pirates, who robbed, raped and killed a lot of them. This is what the Pastor is trying to protect his congregation from (and Miranda, since he doesn't understand why she's with Flint and is likely terrified that a pirate lives so close to his congregation, hence the spies he sends out). There's a bit of a parallel with Billy, where both Lambrick and Billy are presented as being very preoccupied with the well-being of the group they're responsible for, and both are presented as, well, Goody-Two-Shoes - (self-)righteous, loyal, honest, caring. Except they're both human, and sooner or later they falter.

[michals]

(Ok this was supposed to be like, a couple of paragraphs but it turned into a freaking essay, so it’s under the cut haha)

On Klaus, Luther and addiction

So this is something I personally find to have a lot of great thematic potential for these two characters. The idea of Luther falling into the same trap that Klaus has for both similar and different reasons and Klaus dealing with Luther’s addictions while facing his own is such a great thru line for both of them. The show’s set them up with the building blocks for this plot point and it would be so easy for it to come into play this season, especially this season actually.

Luther’s build up to addiction is subtle but I think they’ve planted the seeds enough to make it into something. Him falling apart in The Day That Was and his first reaction is to turn to alcohol and drugs is pretty significant considering it’s obvious that he’s probably been very ‘straight edge’ his whole life, probably never having even drank before then. And he tells Klaus straight out that he wishes he was like him, that he didn’t care and that he could just ignore all his own feelings like he thinks Klaus does. (I’ll get into how the family deals with Klaus’s addiction in a minute.) He goes out and  does things under the influence he would never have done while sober, things that end up being self destructive (ie having sex that he seemed to really not want). But even then he’s gotten the idea that if he’s drinking/on something then he’s not thinking about all his shitty feelings.

Season two really sets it up because it’s not just one event but several. In the first ep at the bar he has a drink very casually, like he’s been doing it for years and not just because his life fell apart in the past how many months. The flask when he goes to Vanya’s is really telling firstly because he has a flask on him at all times at this point, that he uses it to get his courage up to go in the barn, and that he does it even when he’s driving. But it’s the nitrous scene that really cements it for me, again simply because he went from being basically a teetotaler to jumping at the first offer of heavy drugs. And he says he should’ve done this a long time ago. If I may get a little personal I know how easy it is to fall into this, the idea of ‘hey alcohol (or drugs) makes me feel better or at least I don’t think/care as much so why wouldn’t I do it?’. It’s such an easy slope to fall down and on the surface Luther has plenty of reasons to want to.

Now, Klaus: there’s plenty already been said about Klaus’s relationship with drugs and alcohol so I won’t get too wordy. Klaus is defined to us right away as a junkie and addict. Someone who uses substances to avoid dealing specifically with his powers and also his shitty upbringing. He plays very fast and loose with his own sobriety and even his mortality. Basically: he uses drugs to avoid thinking or feeling bad, or at least worse but he’s far, far past the point of entry into full blown dependence.

The scene between him and Luther in season 1 is a personal favorite just because it manages to deal with and establish a number of thematic ideas and the potential for how Luther and Klaus’s relationship can go from there. Luther, like the rest of the family, doesn’t understand Klaus’s addiction partially because they’ve all been estranged for 13 years and partially because Klaus doesn’t take it seriously and puts forth a very flippant persona, hell he doesn’t take anything that seriously. The world’s ending, they don’t have the time or inclination to humor Klaus’s story of chocolate pudding. Luther clearly misunderstands his addiction because yes, Klaus comes across as kind of happy and okay with himself but that’s because of the drugs. To Luther who’s been locked up with their asshole of a father Klaus seems to actually have a life of his own.

But Klaus doesn’t try too hard to walk that opinion back and here’s something I find important that tends to get left out when people point out that the family doesn’t take Klaus’s problems seriously: Klaus doesn’t talk about it or try and deal with it. Klaus really really doesn’t like dealing with things if he thinks he can avoid them. His powers, his childhood, Reginald, Ben, his cult – if he can run away from it or make a joke about it instead that’s what he’ll do. The one thing he ever really shows much initiative with is Dave. He’s self centered and I mean that in the most basic way – everything comes down to what he wants to do and he actually keeps his feelings close to the vest for the most part. Basically he doesn’t want to give the others an ‘in’ point to really address it (bonus they all heaps of problems of their own). And when he does get into it just the barest amount with Luther Luther’s high as fuck.

(Just to touch on Ben he kind of doesn’t count because firstly he can’t talk to anyone else and secondly he and Klaus have such a strained relationship especially regarding Klaus’s drug use that even if anyone else could hear him he probably wouldn’t be that supportive.)

So, actually getting into the whole season 3 thing: the siblings are about to face off with a whole lot of daddy and family issues in this time line and everyone’s got huge potential for emotional and mental shakedowns, but I think Luther’s gonna have the worst time of it. Don’t think I’m going to get into that BS of comparing traumas and saying anyone’s more ‘worthy’ of sympathy than any of the others, I’m saying specifically because it’s to do with Reginald not only rejecting him yet again and outright replacing him but that it’s not even ‘his’ Reginald so does that mean all the shit he put Luther through doesn’t count? I just see it as catalyst for a real breakdown for him.

Not to say this won’t mess with Klaus but Klaus hated Reginald long ago and has accepted that the guy was a douchebag and had no real love for his children, so personally I see his drug use as dealing with Reggie’s abuse but more so to deal with his powers. So yes, this’ll absolutely fuck with him but Luther’s the primo target here.

So what if we see Luther leaning even harder into drinking or even heavier things? Now he really has an excuse to because where’s he supposed to go from here? What’s he meant to do? He’s not the leader anymore, his family doesn’t always treat his trauma seriously (Klaus parallels there) nevermind he doesn’t even like to address it himself, he has no idea who he’s supposed to be and the one person who he thought actually cared about him not only doesn’t but never did and now he’ll never get back what he saw as his purpose in life. The whole Ben being alive thing is just icing on the cake. If he spirals in s3 it would make perfect sense because of all this and all the set up for it.

Klaus spiraled too at the end of s2 again becoming the fatalistic junkie he used to be, he’s gonna run from his problems again but it’s not just his powers this time. So he’s off the wagon but what if he notices Luther is too?

I can definitely see Luther trying to hide it from the others. He’s already given away too much of his weaknesses, he doesn’t want them to see their ‘leader’ continue to fall and I don’t think he’d want them to know he’s still that affected by Reginald. They want him to have dealt with it, like he seems to have at least a little in s2, if he’s completely fallen apart because of his dad again then that just makes him look pathetic. So he keeps his flask and finds excuses to get away with stumbling or slurring his words. But Klaus notices, because Klaus knows the signs.

In that scene in s1 Klaus very obviously doesn’t like seeing Luther like that or using drugs as an escape like he does. He’s self aware enough to know that this isn’t any way to live but is too pessimistic when it comes to himself. But, again, he tends to be pretty self centered. This is not a bad thing, this is a great character trait and it makes Klaus interesting. He does not know how to relate to his siblings on the whole, doesn’t know how to talk about his own traumas and addictions, so when he does hear them out it’s usually because he had was focusing on his own shit first. For instance: when he has the heart to heart with Allison in her kitchen he’s only there in the first place because he was falling apart because of Dave.

Luther having a problem will have to be something Klaus purposefully chooses to deal with because he’s worried about one of this siblings. And for obvious reasons Klaus is the perfect one to help him with it. He doesn’t want to see Luther like that but he doesn’t really have a leg to stand on if he wants him to stop. Hell, if Klaus won’t stop why should Luther? Klaus can’t use ‘do what I say not as I do’, partially because Luther has proven to have some self destructive/self harming tendencies and again, if it makes him feel okay or at least steady then why would he stop?

But Klaus stopping means that he’s going to have to confront his quite literal demons when it comes to his powers (I could go off on how much I don’t love that he was somehow sober for 3 years in the 60’s no problem but it didn’t seem to affect his powers at all but that’s another post). The number one thing he’s been running from his whole life, something the show hasn’t actually done a whole lot with. We knows he hates it, we knows he’s tortured by it, but we’ve seen no evidence that he’s ever really confronted it. He was traumatized by Reggie who did everything wrong so he went the opposite route.

But what if he has to stay sober for Luther’s sake? Even if he doesn’t want to help, even if he just enables it or joins him at first eventually he’d have to come the realization that he doesn’t like this, that he wouldn’t wish this kind of problem on someone he cares about. So he’s going to have to turn inward, he’s going to have to face up to both his addiction and his powers, maybe even finally try to tame and use his powers. And at some point he’d have to talk to Luther about it and stop hiding behind his glib façade.

So in the end we’d get to see Luther falling apart trying to deal with everything that he still very much needs to deal with and his subconscious tendency for self destruction, Klaus confronting his addictions, his own feelings and relationship to his siblings, and his powers and hell, maybe then we’ll actually get him using his powers to his/the group’s benefit.

[henrycavillobsessed]

Porcelain

Characters: Henry Cavill x Anwen Evans (fictional fiance)

Summary: Henry and Anwen’s life was perfect. Until one day, one phone call, changes everything.

Words: 3,444

TW/CW: Death, car accident, description of injuries, hospital, grief. Slight mention of implied sex; some bad language. 

Notes: So here it is, my latest fanfic. It’s been a while, due to a bit of a mind block. The idea for this came to me, after being inspired by the song Porcelain by Emarosa (link below in case you’re interested). This one is different to my other fics, for one it’s not the usual Henry x reader narrative. I have created a character this time to act as his partner. Also this one is LONG (3,444 words). I have enjoyed writing a longer and more complex story and I hope you enjoy reading it. (As a warning, it’s SAD. I am not ashamed to admit I cried just writing it.)

Link to song: https://open.spotify.com/track/7rk8cH53nI8ffb5ZccjfpT?si=QMVvEmA3TK-3WuQXJanMmQ

“Oww! Shit!”

Henry looked up from the book he was reading in bed. Anwen was rubbing her forehead and looking very wounded. She’d clearly just walked into the doorframe. Again. Henry laughed out loud.

“Don’t laugh at me!” A pillow flew through the air and missed its target of Henry’s face by a considerable amount. He laughed again. 

“I can’t help it. You are so clumsy!”

Anwen climbed into bed, still massaging the sore spot on her head. She scowled at Henry. “If I remember correctly Mr Cavill, it was because of me being clumsy that meant we met for the very first time.”

“Hmm,” Henry reached over and gathered her up in his arms, leaning back against the headboard. He kissed her gently on the faint bruise that was blooming on her pale skin. “I do remember,” he said fondly. 

          It had been over five years ago now. Henry was out with his friend and colleague Simon Pegg, drinking their way through some of London’s best nightclubs. It had been a great night so far, with both men enjoying their freedom; they’d recently finished filming their latest movie and were celebrating. Henry was feeling happily tipsy, and when Simon offered to go to the bar for another round, he didn’t refuse. 

“Get some shots too!” he shouted at Simon’s back as he left their table. Simon waved a hand in response; Henry took that as a yes and smiled. He was just checking his Instagram on his phone when something- someone- crashed into him and he felt the cold wetness of a spilt drink over his shoulder and down his shirt. He looked up incredulously. A woman was stood there with an empty glass and an equally shocked expression.

“Oh, my go- I am so sorry!” she said in a very attractive Welsh accent, Henry thought. He felt his annoyance dissipate immediately. 

“Hey, don’t worry about it, accidents happen. How much have you had to drink anyway?” he asked cheekily. 

The woman’s ivory skin blushed, contrasting prettily with her ebony hair, which was cascading around her shoulders in thick waves.

“Um, I actually don’t drink,” she admitted. “I have just shown you how uncoordinated I am; I really don’t need to throw alcohol into the mix.” 

“Very wise. Hi, I’m Henry Cavill.”

“Anwen Evans, nice to meet you.” They shook hands and were making pleasant small talk when Simon returned with the drinks.

“What on earth happened to your shirt?” he asked Henry. 

“Anwen happened. Anwen, this is my friend Simon Pegg.” 

Anwen’s face lit up. “I love your movies! Hot Fuzz is just hilarious!” she said to Simon, who smiled widely and they spent the next few moments quoting lines from the film. Simon looked sideways at Henry, and saw the way he was looking at Anwen, and cleared his throat.

“Well, it’s been lovely to meet you, but I must get on. Henry, I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said, winking at his friend. Henry mouthed a silent thank you, grinning. 

After Anwen explained to her girlfriend’s that she was going to continue the night with Henry, prompting a lot of excited giggling and whispering, she sat herself down at Henry’s table. The hours flew by as they got to know each other. Anwen was an up-and-coming chef, who’d recently opened a new restaurant nearby in London. She told Henry about the restaurant’s menu, and Henry promised to try it out soon. In return, Henry told her about the films he’d been in. He was mock-outraged when Anwen admitted she’d never seen a Superman movie, let alone Man of Steel, and laughing, she promised she’d check it out soon. Conversation naturally flowed between them, Henry felt so at ease with her, and it turned out they had quite a bit in common. As Henry told Anwen about his akita Kal, Anwen told him she also had a dog, a golden retriever named Ciri.

“Ciri?” Henry had asked. “As in Ciri from The Witcher?”

“Yeah! I’m such a huge fan, I’ve read all the books, and I’ve played all the games!”

Henry laughed. “You are never going to believe who I’ve just been cast as for my next job…” Anwen’s jaw dropped to the floor when he told her. 

The night ended with Henry walking Anwen home to her nearby townhouse, and they shared their first kiss on the doorstep, swapping numbers with the promise to meet up again soon for a date.

          Now back in the present, nearly six years later, Anwen had moved into Henry’s penthouse, with Ciri who Kal adored. Both dogs were curled up at the end of the bed now, fast asleep.

In Henry’s arms, Anwen cuddled in close. “Yes, so if it wasn’t for me tripping and drenching you that night we wouldn’t be here now, so stop taking the piss!”  

“Okay, okay!” Henry laughed. “I do worry though, you know. You’re like… like porcelain. So easily broken. Be more careful, I’d hate for something to happen, for me to lose you. I love you so much, my Annie.”

“Don’t be so soft! I’m not going anywhere, not for a long time. And I’ll love you until the day I’m gone, and if I can love after, then I will then too. So shush,” Anwen replied, placing a kiss on his lips.

“Anyway, I’m not that breakable, I don’t think. Wanna test this theory?” 

Swinging her legs around Henry’s waist, Anwen straddled him and seductively removed her top. She was braless underneath. Henry whistled low, and licked his lips.

“Yes ma’am.”

          Henry and Anwen’s life continued in perfect bliss. Both had never been as happy as they were with each other. Anwen was now an established celebrity chef, having opened many more restaurants worldwide, written a few cookbooks and even been on television a couple of times. Henry’s career as an actor was skyrocketing, his role at Geralt in The Witcher making him a household name. This meant that he had to travel all around the globe for work, however this didn’t impact his and Anwen’s relationship in the slightest, as she regularly went with him, using the time to research new recipes for her business. When they had spare time, they enjoyed exotic holidays, and it was on the white powder sand of the Maldives that Henry proposed. Anwen had burst into tears and accepted immediately, and they’d spent the rest of that holiday on their private island mostly naked, enjoying each other as an engaged couple.           Their home life was refreshingly normal however. Behind closed doors, they were just Henry and Anwen, not the famous actor and the celebrity chef. They both took in turns to cook dinner, did the housework together and spent the evenings cwtched up on the sofa watching old movies. Laughter was a staple in their home, in fact they only ever rowed when England played Wales at rugby during the Six Nations. Life was indeed bliss, and it seemed nothing could burst this content bubble they were living in.

            One average day in late autumn, Anwen was sat at the kitchen table, with her laptop open in front of her and Ciri snoozing quietly at her feet. Dressed in a pair of comfy sweats and a loose off-the-shoulder jumper, her hair piled artfully messy on top of her head and holding a large cup of coffee in her hands, she was looking at wedding venues online, finally making a start on planning their special day. A huge binder was also open on the table with multiple sheets on paper sticking out of it. She’d made plenty of notes and had lots of ideas; it was now time to put them into action. Henry walked into the kitchen, looking very stylish in back jeans and a tight black t-shirt. He was holding Kal’s lead and the akita was tip-tapping on the tiles behind him, clearly very excited about going for a walk. Ciri didn’t even raise her head, happy enough to stay in with her mum and continue her nap. 

“I’m going to take Kal with me to the meeting with my manager,” he said to Anwen. “Then do you fancy meeting me after with Ciri and we’ll take them for a walk in the park?” 

“Yes, my love, sounds lush. How long will you be do you think?”

“Not sure, I’ll call you when I’m done.”

“Sounds like a plan!”

“What are you up to today?” Henry asked, walking over to Anwen and kissing her on the top of her head. “Wedding stuff?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna send off some emails now this morning and then go to this bakery and try out some wedding cake samples,” Anwen smiled.

“Well, I’m jealous! Have a great day honey, I’ll call you later. Love you!”

“Love you, bye!” she called as he walked out the front door.

          Henry’s meeting was going well. His manager had quite a few prospective roles lined up for him, and Henry was interested in the majority of them. His mind wandered to Anwen every so often; he still missed her when they were apart. As the meeting was coming to a close and Kal started getting excited again at going for another walk, Henry’s phone rang. He looked at the caller ID- withheld number. 

“Hello?”

“Is this Mr Henry Cavill? I’m a nurse here at London hospital. We have you down here as Miss Anwen Evans’s emergency contact.”

Henry paled. “Is she okay?”

“I’m afraid Miss Evans has been involved in a serious accident. We have her here at the emergency department. Can you get here straight away?”

          Henry had never moved so quickly in his entire life. After giving his manager a hurried explanation and asking him whether he’d look after Kal, he’d gotten in his car and sped through the streets of London, not caring that he was breaking the speed limit. He parked illegally, jumping out of the vehicle and sprinting into the hospital. His mind was in overdrive, all sorts of scenarios going through his head. He felt sick with fear and exertion. Flying into the emergency room, he looked around wildly, finding a nurse sat at the front desk.

“Anwen Evans? I’m here for Anwen Evans, I’m Henry Cavill,” he cried desperately. The nurse didn’t hesitate.

“Come with me.”

She explained to Henry what had happened on the way. “Anwen was crossing the road at a zebra crossing when she tripped halfway, according to witnesses. There was a speeding car, who didn’t see her. He… he ran right over her. He didn’t stop. There are police looking for the car and driver as we speak.”

The flash of anger that Henry felt was so severe that his steps faltered for a second. But then he pushed it away, to be dealt with later. All that mattered now was Anwen. 

“Mr Cavill, Anwen is in a bad way. She has a serious brain injury, and multiple body fractures. The trauma team managed to get her stable, but it’s touch-and-go. The next twenty-four hours are critical,” the nurse said gently. “Prepare yourself before you go in.”

She opened the door to the dimly lit room. The sound of machines beeping dominated the otherwise peaceful atmosphere. Henry moved closer to the bed, his mouth dry, hands shaking. His Annie was lying in the bed, connected to the machines, wires snaking out from every part of her it seemed. Her beautiful black hair was covered by thick white bandages wrapped around her head, and every part of her skin was purple and blue bruises. Her striking green eyes, usually so full of love and sparkle, were swollen shut. Henry had never seen anything so heartbreaking; tears coursed unbidden down his cheeks.

“Can I sit by her? Hold her hand?” he choked to the nurse. 

“Of course, pet.”

He pulled up a chair to her bedside and ever so gently took Anwen’s hand in his. It was reassuringly warm. He could do nothing for a moment but stroke it slowly. Worry filled every part of his being. 

“I’m here Annie. It’s your Henry. Come back to me, you can get through this,” he whispered, and then as sobs wracked through him, he added, “you said you’d love me until you’re gone and I’ll be damned if you’re going anywhere yet.” 

For the next few hours, Henry didn’t leave Anwen’s side; he didn’t let go of her hand. He held onto hope that she would get better. After all, porcelain could break yes, but it could also be fixed. And he would do anything to fix her. 

          As it approached eighteen hours since Anwen’s accident, a nurse came into the room and caught Henry fighting not to fall asleep. She softly tapped him on the shoulder.

“Mr Cavill, go and get some rest. You’re more than welcome to use the family room just next door. Freshen up, get an hour or so sleep. If anything changes, I promise I’ll come and notify you immediately.”

Henry considered this, torn between not wanting to leave Anwen’s side and the need to at least wash his face. 

“I’ll be half an hour, tops. Annie, I’ll be right back.” He put her hand down, and exited the room, rubbing his tired eyes as he went. 

He hadn’t been gone five minutes when a terrifying beeping screeched out from Anwen’s room. He ran out of the bathroom still with wet hands, his heart in his mouth. He halted in the doorway, petrified at the scene unfolding in front of him. 

A team of medics were working hard on her, the unrelenting beeping just adding to the frenzy of the situation. Anwen’s heart had stopped; someone fired up a defibrillator. The shock that went through her echoed in Henry. He just didn’t know what to do. He was vaguely aware of someone trying to lead him away but he just couldn’t move, couldn’t tear his eyes away, panic rising, threatening to overspill. His Annie, his Annie was there dying on that bed, and he couldn’t do anything but watch. And then suddenly, the most sinister sound yet. A flatline. Followed by a voice.

“We’ve lost her. Time of death, eight fifteen AM…”

Then silence.

The sound that tore its way up and out through Henry’s throat was that of a wounded animal. He screamed, the feeling pure agony.

“No! NO! There must be something you can do! My Annie! Annie…”

The doctor looked at him with sadness in his eyes. “I am so sorry, Henry. So sorry. Please, everyone, give him some space.”

The rest of his team followed him out; the nurse that had told Henry to go get some rest was crying silently. 

Henry stood rooted to the spot, in a state of absolute denial. Only a day before they’d been in their kitchen together, making plans to walk their beloved dogs, she was planning their wedding. Their wedding. Agony ripped through his chest, sobs wracked his body, his breathing erratic, his heart shattered, never to be healed again. Broken, like porcelain. 

          Henry didn’t know how he got through the funeral. He’d been to the funeral home, and dressed her in her favourite dress and shoes, and spent a long time brushing out her hair; he’d done that when she was alive, but the familiar act did nothing to ease his pain. When he got to the church, he walked down the aisle with her coffin on his shoulder, his heart heavy because he should have been watching her walk down the aisle in a white flowing dress towards him, he should be becoming her husband, not burying her. When it came to reading her eulogy, he was overcome with emotion, for the first time in his life not able to talk in public. His mother helped him down from the podium; his father continued the speech. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house.

At the wake, he got blind drunk. No one saw him for a week afterwards.

          The news of Anwen’s death was plastered all over the newspapers and online. Headlines such as “HENRY CAVILL FIANCE KILLED IN TRAGIC ACCIDENT” and “CELEBRITY CHEF ANWEN EVANS DEAD AT 27” accompanied photos of the both of them. The hole in Henry’s chest got bigger each time he saw it. He threw himself into his work; being someone else for at least 12 hours a day was easier than dealing with real life. Because the grief was all consuming, terrifying, never-ending. When he got home to his cold and empty penthouse, he couldn’t escape it; Kal and Ciri looked at him sadly every night, the question in their eyes: “where is our mummy?” Henry had no answers for them. He spent each evening sat in the dark, in silence. There was no laughter, no enjoyment in life since she’d gone. 

          A few weeks later, Simon came to visit. He’d been dropping in regularly, terribly worried about his friend. Henry looked, quite frankly, awful. His hair was long and the curls unkempt, he’d let his beard grow out and he had deep purple bags under his eyes. He’d lost a lot of weight too, although he hadn’t stopped working out. Simon sat down next to Henry on his sofa, nervously voicing the question he’d come round to ask.

“Henry, it’s the awards ceremony tonight. Will you be going?”

Henry looked at him like he’d gone mad. 

“Look,” Simon continued. “You’ve been nominated for Best Actor. It’s highly likely you’re going to win. Remember how she… how Anwen was really looking forward to going.” This was true. The red dress she’d been planning to wear was still hung up on the back of the bedroom door. “If you don’t want to go for yourself, why don’t you go for her?”

Henry thought it over. He hadn’t been out, apart from work and the gym, since before the accident. The thought of going to such a high-profile event caused panic. Yet… an image of Anwen, smiling before him in that red dress suddenly entered his mind. She had been so excited; she’d even helped him write his acceptance speech in case he did in fact win Best Actor. Go for her, Simon had said…

          And that’s how, just hours later, Henry found himself back on the red carpet, surrounded by flashing lights and crazed shouting as paparazzi tried to get his attention. He posed for a few photos before hurrying inside and taking his seat. He ate the extravagant three-course meal without really tasting it, drank the wine without really feeling it. Simon sat by his side, a welcome support; a truly great friend. Then, finally, it was time for the awards to be given. 

Henry clapped and cheered as each person won their nominated categories; showing his support for his fellow actors and actresses. Seeing them so happy actually lifted his spirits for the first time since… before. Then it was time for the winner of the Best Actor award.

“And the winner is… HENRY CAVILL!”

Henry sat in shock as the cameras and spotlights panned to him. Simon was on his feet, screaming “I knew he’d do it!” and then he was helping Henry up. “Go on mate, to the stage. You won, you bloody won!” 

In a daze, he walked towards the stage, then across it, accepting his award from the host. The applause was tumultuous; it took a few moments for it to die down, and then everyone in the audience was waiting expectantly for his speech. Henry drew a blank; he had no idea what to say.

“You can do it, handsome!” a heartbreakingly familiar voice whispered in his ear. He looked to the side and his breath hitched in his throat. Anwen was stood there, a wide grin all over her face, looking devastatingly beautiful in the red dress she’d planned to wear tonight. 

“I’m right here with you. I love you.”

Tears welled and spilled from Henry’s eyes as he turned back to face the audience. 

“This award,” he started. “is for my Anwen. My Annie. I couldn’t have been the actor who deserved it without her love and encouragement. She was my everything. She still is. I owe this, my entire career, my entire life to you, my angel. I miss you more than words can describe, and I love you even more.

As he left the stage to even louder applause and cheers and flashing lights, he looked up, seeing the love of his life again, smiling, tears sparkling on her cheeks, blowing him a kiss as she faded away.

“Goodbye my Annie,” he whispered. “Goodbye.”

[hawksward]

F**k Him, He’s a DJ (Hawks/Reader Music Industry AU)

Summary: A year after your separation from your former girl group, your solo career is just getting started. It only needs some extra oomph. Enter world renowned DJ, Hawks. Here to give you more than what you bargained for.

Pairing: DJ! Hawks (Keigo Takami)/ Singer! Reader

Rating: E+

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: sex without a condom, drunk sex, cunnilingus, ragging on DJ’s, dirty talk if you squint

Notes: Hi All! Its been a hot second since I’ve written smut and this is the first time for my favorite bird boi. Music Industry AU’s are a weakness of mine. Please enjoy!!

Special shout out to @shinsotired​ for beta-ing my trash 

“No. Absolutely not. Under no conditions will I work with him.” Water splashed everywhere as you slammed your water bottle onto the table. “I’ll take anyone else you give me.”

Maya, your manager, let out a hefty sigh before adjusting her tight ponytail. She had only taken the position a short year ago after you ditched your former girl group the moment you turned 18. They couldn’t pay you enough to sign another contract describing in detail the ‘cute’ and ‘pure’ image you were expected to maintain. It was time to turn a new, edgier, leaf.

Just not with an insufferable asshole as your first collaboration.

“Hawks has been the only DJ on the top 10 list consistently. Plus you work for the same label. He’s already created the track and we’ve written the lyrics. All you have to do is show up and sing. Maybe do some appearances on his tour.” Maya didn’t take her eyes off her tablet “You’re an established name, but you need to prove yourself again. Now suck it up, he’ll be here any minute.”

The door nearly flew off its hinges with the force Hawks used. You’d never seen him in person before, and he was definitely shorter than you imagined. Not like you could talk. He wore a beige bomber jacket lined in sherpa and a simple pair of jeans. Far simpler than you’d seen him wear on stage.

“Y/N,” Maya put on her biggest, most professional smile, “I’d like to introduce Keigo Takami, or as he more commonly goes by on stage, Hawks. Keigo this is Y/N.”

“Ah good girl gone bad.” His smirk was infuriating. “So this is what I’m working with.”

He circled you, like a bird ready to strike its prey. Taking in every inch of you. Anger continued to rise in the pit of your stomach as he came to a halt. Putting his fingers to his chin in contemplation.

“Something to say?” You questioned, arms folded across your chest.

“Nah.” His fingers raked through his blonde locks “This’ll be fine. I always liked a challenge.” He gave you a wink.

Offended didn’t come close to how you felt about his comment. A challenge, not for you but for him. The bastard probably thinks you don’t have what it takes to succeed in a solo career.

“A challenge?” You rose from your seat to meet him head on, despite being a whole head shorter.  “I’ll have you know I’m a fucking professional.”

“She’s got small dog syndrome too!” He nearly folded in half with laughter “Don’t worry, Maya, I’ll play nice with her.”

He knew all the right buttons to push to send you into a rage. Half moons formed on your palms as you exercised every ounce of self control you had. You wanted nothing more than to tell him where exactly he could shove his bullshit.

“Great!” Maya grabbed you by the arm “She will see you in the studio first thing tomorrow morning!” There was no mercy as she pulled you through the door, not giving you the chance for the final word.

The next morning came too fast for your liking. You arrived 15 minutes before your scheduled meeting time, canister of warm tea in hand, wishing it was coffee instead. You were no stranger to the ins and outs of taking care of your voice. It was your livelihood after all.

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

“Morning Chickadee”

You recoiled at the name, noticing Keigo standing in the doorway. Takeout coffee in hand. He sauntered in, throwing his jacket on the back of his chair before setting his coffee down on a nearby table. He pushed himself in his chair over to his soundboard, letting everything boot up.

“Do you need a minute to warm up or are you already ready for the main event?” He gave you a quick wink before diverting his attention back to his equipment. You couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

“Like I said before, I’m a professional. I’m ready to start whenever you are”. You took your place in the soundbooth on the opposite end of the room. Slipping your headphones over your ears before checking to make sure your mic was on.

Take. After take. After take. He had a problem with everything.

“You’re too pitchy in the chorus”

“What the fuck is this breathy shit? Stop making it weird.”

“Are you even capable of being sexy?”

The last one bothered you the most.

“Stop being picky because you don’t fucking like me!” You ripped the headphones off before storming out of the booth “There was nothing wrong with that take!”

Keigo rolled his eyes, straightening himself out in his chair before removing his headphones. “You think I’m being picky? My fans will never buy whatever fake sexy shit you’re selling.”

“ Your fans?” The fangs were coming out now “Do you even have fans? All you do is stand behind a laptop and wave your arms around like an idiot.” DJs had no performance value in your mind. Sure, they could make a good track but they were worthless live.

“Yeah, my fans.” He didn’t seem phased at all. Even his body language exuded confidence. “This is my track, Sweetheart. You’re just the feature.”

Your muscles tensed as he said it. Maya had you convinced that this would be the last track on your album, something to really set you apart. You should have known this was a publicity stunt to gain you some of his fans. The room went silent. Hawks shook his head.

“Have you ever even seen a live set?” He rested his elbows on his knees, folding his hands to hold his chin “Not some prom shit. But an actual, full blown set at a club? I’m talking about mixing your own tracks to spinning.”

You scoffed “When would I have time? Some of us are trying to debut.”

“Tonight.”

Taking a step back, you narrowed your eyes. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m taking you to a set tonight. Consider it part of the creative process.”

He rose from his chair, tossing his jacket over his shoulder before walking out the door. A quick wave and a nod was all Hawks gave before he left the studio. You were dumbfounded.

A loud buzz came from your pocket revealing a text from an unknown number.

I’ll pick you up at 10. Wear something sexy.    -Kei

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

At 9:55pm you stood outside the apartment. After spending hours trying to determine what was considered ‘club sexy’ you settled on a short black dress and the highest pair of heels you owned. Crisp night air filled your senses as you took in the city. It would have been peaceful if it weren’t for some douchebag pulling up to the curb in a sports car, flashing the lights like a strobe.

The window rolled down to reveal Keigo in a slim fit shirt and jeans. He let out a low whistle, his eyes trailing down before returning to your own. “You clean up nicely”

You rolled your eyes, walking to the passenger side and easing yourself into the car. The dress slipped up your thighs as you adjusted in the seat. Keigo made no attempt to hide his eyes drifting to your legs during the ride to Sky Parlor, Tokyo’s premier nightclub.

He was in his element. Bodies parted around him as he led you to the roped off center area of the club. The place was already full and from what Keigo said, the headliner had yet to perform. You nestled yourself into a corner of the booth, careful not to trip over the short table in front. Someone already dropped by to place a bucket full of ice along with a bottle of tequila onto the table.

Keigo popped the bottle open with ease, filling two shot glasses to the brim “What do you say we toast?” he shouted into your ear, barely coming across as a whisper muddled in all the noise “To a successful partnership?”

You grabbed the glass out of his hand, clinking it to his before shooting the liquid. The burn warmed up your insides as you grabbed the bottle to pour another “Better do two to be safe.”

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but the bottle was half empty. There was now enough liquid courage running through your veins to let loose. It didn’t hurt that your girl group reputation wasn’t there to drag you down either. As much as you hated to admit it, the DJ was putting on a good show.

Your hips moved with the beat, hands running down your body before making their way up to the air. The atmosphere was intoxicating, your body moving in time to the bass. You hardly noticed when Keigo snaked his arms around you, allowing his hands to drift to your hips. He pulled you tight to his chest, his body moving in time with your rhythm.

If you were sober you might have put up more of a fight when he began to grind his hips into you, greedy for more contact. Your arms moved up to snake around his neck, bringing his face closer to your own. Keigo’s breath grazed the shell of your ear as you moved in sync, seeming to raise the temperature in the room by at least 10 degrees.

You turned to face him, allowing his knee between your legs as you continued to grind your hips into him. His eyes were lidded, lips barely parted open.  Your fingers traced along his jawline, your lips parting to meet his.

Before you had time to process the music began to fade, the DJ picked up his mic to pass it over to the next artist.

“Thanks everybody! Hope you’re having a great time tonight!” The crowd cheered “We’ve got a really special guest here tonight. Rumor has it he’s going to let us preview a new track. Everyone welcome to the stage HAWKS!”

Keigo detangled himself from you at a speed you didn’t think possible, flashing a large smile to the crowd. Bouncers guided his way to the front stage, keeping him safe for all but the roaming hands of strangers. You slid into your seat, pouring yourself another shot of tequila to make up for your disappointment.

When Hawks took the stage he exuded energy. The hum of excited crowd chatter filled the club while he set up. “How’s everyone doing tonight?” His cheeky smile radiated under the harsh lights. The entire crowd erupted into cheers. You even managed to catch a few I love you’s and a Fucking marry me already!

Hawks winked at the crowd, blowing a kiss in the direction of the rogue comments. “I have a special treat, it’s a new track I’ve been working on off my new album.” He let out a laugh before continuing “This one’s dedicated to a special someone who thinks all I do is push play on my laptop”

The blood rushed to your face as the track started. Thankfully he decided not to drop a name or else his fans might have mauled you.

He was good, great even. Almost good enough to make you admit it. His energy on stage was contagious, waving his arms in the air causing the crowd to follow. You could see why he was #2 on the charts. Maybe Maya was onto something.

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

The night was a blur of stolen glances, tequila shots, and deafening music. Keigo, ever the gentleman, booked both of you an Uber back to his place. Something about ‘strike while the inspiration is hot’.

Keigo’s apartment was the penthouse of one of the tallest buildings in the city. The place was beautiful. Tall ceilings, windows open to the glow of the city night. Everything someone would expect from a successful artist.

“Follow me” Keigo motioned “I have a home studio. We should be able to get some work done in there.” He led you to a smaller room, crammed with every piece of recording equipment imaginable. “Start from line 17.”

Shimmying through a sea of tech, you made your way into the corner where a small mic was set up. No glass to separate you from the rest of the studio. Tequila still running through your veins, you began to wonder if now was the best time to record. Your words were probably slurring already.

The words came out like vomit. Completely unsexy. You caught Keigo’s eye and could already tell he was pissed. At least if he came home drunk to work he didn’t have to worry about opening his mouth.

“What the hell was that?” He asked, eyes narrowed. “Is that what you call sexy?” Keigo removed his headphones and leaned back into his chair. “Let’s try something. Seduce me.”

“I’m sorry, what?” arms folded across your chest.

“You heard me. If I don’t buy it, my fans won’t.” Fuck, the man didn’t shut up about his fans. You tentatively walked over to him, unsure how to fulfill his request. No one asked you to seduce them before. The man sitting before you looked unphased as you slid your hair to the side, exposing your neck. You ran your hands down your chest, moving down your thighs. You were too drunk for this shit.

Keigo laughed, “have you never seduced anyone before?” He rose from his chair, inching closer to you, like a predator fixated on his prey. “No bringing a boy band member home and hoping no one finds out?”

Your back was against the wall as he slammed his hand into the foam soundproofing, keeping you locked in place. “Trying to keep quiet so your roommates don’t hear you breaking the rules?” His breath was hot against your ear as he whispered “Don’t tell me you’re a virgin.”

Blood rushed to your face “Of course not!” you practically shouted “I’ve slept with multiple people.” Which was not any of his business. You weren’t sure why you blurted it out.

A smirk graced Keigo’s features. He was enjoying the rise he was getting out of you. His other hand pushed a strand of hair out of your face, succeeding in making you even more flustered. Your nerve endings were on fire, begging to be touched. Tequila swirling in your mind, encouraging you to give in.

“You’re supposed to be seducing me, not the other way around.” His breath caused goosebumps.

“Please just shut up.” You turned your head to avert your eyes, the blush still painfully apparent on your cheeks. Keigo grabbed your chin, pulling your eyes back to his.

“Only if you make me.”

Never one to back down from a challenge, you went for it. Grabbing a fistfull of his hair, you closed the distance between you. It didn’t take long for him to take the lead, his lips bruising your own. His teeth pulled on your lower lip, causing you to let out a small sigh. Keigo used the chance to grant his tongue entrance, fighting your own for dominance.

Limbs intertwined, your hands clenched the back of his shirt. Keigo’s mouth moved from your lips to the edge of your jaw, trailing lower as he kept your chin in place with his hand. His mouth continued to trail lower as he sucked on the sweet spot by your collar bone. A moan left your mouth, causing Keigo to bite down. Your nails dug into his back, eliciting a low growl from his throat. He grabbed a fistfull of your hair with his opposite hand, pulling to give himself easier access.

Your eyes closed as the room started to spin around you. It was euphoric. It was hard to tell whether it was the booze or the way his mouth moved across your skin, but it felt like heaven. Enough so that when he removed his mouth from your skin, the first feeling was disappointment.

“What?” your voice came out as a harsh whisper “Don’t stop.” You’d beg if you had to, not that you’d tell him that.

“Stop?” Keigo smirked “Baby, I’m just getting started.” In one swift movement he pulled the shirt off his head revealing his sculpted chest and adonis belt. If you were a lesser woman you might have actually drooled at the sight. Being a part of the entertainment industry you were well aware that taking care of your body was important, but it was clear that his was a labor of love.

“LIke what you see?” He smirked, signifying your staring hadn’t gone unnoticed. He was hot, sure, but he was still a cocky bastard. You rolled your eyes before pulling him back into another heated kiss, allowing him to lift your arms up before he pulled the hem of your dress up and over. Leaving you in your bra and the smallest pair of panties you owned.

“I’m nothing if not a gentleman, so ladies first.” Keigo kept eye contact as he dropped slowly to his knees, taking the strings of your panties down with him. Leaving you on display. Your core twitched in anticipation when you felt his hot breath on the inside of your thigh. Planting light kisses as he moved his way upward. He tossed your leg over his shoulder, unbalancing you for just a moment, for better access.

Your eyes rolled back as he lazily traced shapes onto your clit with his tongue. Back pressing further into the wall to arch yourself into him, you grabbed a fistful of his hair. Desperate for something to hold on to. He alternated between fast and slow, short and long before using his fingers to tease at your entrance.

“Damn Baby, are you already this wet for me?” He pulled away if only for a moment, his index finger pushing past your lips into your core.

“Fuck Kei.” You groaned as your head arched back, “Do you get off on hearing yourself talk?”  It was your current opinion that there were other things you would rather his mouth do. You felt him smile into your folds, slipping a second finger into your wet pussy. The new sensation filling you up from the inside, making you feel like you could crack at any moment.

Heat continued to build inside you as Keigo’s pace quickened. Curling his fingers into a spot none of your previous lovers had even tried to find all while keeping pace with his tongue. It didn’t take long for you to boil over, moaning out his name. Keigo removed his fingers as he rose to meet you, lips crashing into yours allowing you to taste yourself. His fingers quickly moved, fumbling against the clasp of your bra, clear that the tequila still had a hold on him as well.

Fabric fell to the floor as he grabbed your breast in his hand, playing with your nipple while he took the other breast in his mouth. Tongue flicking and sucking until you reached a stiff peak. Your hands made their way down to his belt, trying to ignore the sensation enough to concentrate on the buckle. Clear that you were struggling, Keigo removed himself from you to unbutton and throw down his pants at an almost inhuman speed.

Even his dick was magnificent. The brief thought passed your mind of how many other people he brought back to his penthouse after a recording session. Drunk and ready to make bad decisions.

His hands grabbed onto your ass, giving it a squeeze before hoisting you into the air and back down onto his hips. You could already feel his rock hard erection teasing at you. Keigo pushed your back into the wall, causing a small gasp of air to leave your lips. He positioned himself so he was at your entrance. His head grazing your lips before thrusting himself inside, your sufficiently soaked pussy allowing him to bury himself in one motion.

Keigo let out a moan, his forehead resting on yours briefly as he let himself acclimate to just how tight you were. It was difficult to describe just how full and amazing he felt inside you. Your breathing picked up as he slowly began to thrust in and out.

The small ‘oh’s’ and ‘ ah’s’ from your mouth filled the room, mixing with the sound of skin slapping on skin. Keigo’s mouth returned to your collarbone as he picked up his pace, nearly removing himself from your cunt before pushing himself back in, almost punching you in the cervix. Every vein felt like it was made to please you, sending your nerves into a frenzy.

“Holy fuck you feel good.” His breathing matched your own, rough and uneven. Enough to send shivers down your spine. Your head arched back, enjoying the sensation of his cock while he adjusted himself to put your nipple in his mouth. Nails traced thin white lines down his back, lightly breaking the tattooed skin.

The building sensation was quickly becoming overwhelming. Your mind unable to focus on your surroundings, only your impending release. “Oh Fuck, Kei. I’m gonna cum.” You grabbed a fistful of his hair, your other hand gripping onto his shoulder. Your words causing him to go feral, his pace increasing exponentially as he gripped harder into your thighs. His fingertips sure to leave bruises. He brought his mouth back up to yours, his tongue thrashing with your own in a sloppy kiss.

The bundle of nerves inside you, that kept winding tighter and tighter exploded. You gripped harder as the wave of sensation washed over you, continuing to hold on as Keigo reached his own release, emptying himself inside of you.  You rested your forehead against his, enjoying the moment of bliss before he pulled out.

“So..” Keigo smiled “Think you’re ready to record a number one single?”

[pocket-void]

Table for Two

A/N: Hi! This the first fanfic I’ve written for literally anything! (I’m an on and off writer in general tho) I’m hoping to write a collection of unconnected short stories currently called Smaller Sides to Life, that focuses on small/short moments in time during specific events. I’d be so grateful for any comment or feedback, but honestly I just hope you enjoy it first and foremost! >///<

Pairing: Logicality Words: 2468 Content: Human AU? A lot of descriptions of anxious waiting, so I guess it’s got a lil angst. Happy ending! (Please tell me if I need to mention anything I am very unfamiliar with how this works ;///;) Summary: Logan grows ever more anxious as he waits for his date, who, at this point, he isn’t even sure is coming.

If you wanna read my google doc for this instead you’re free to. (I like Cambria font u///u) I have an Ao3 but I am currently not using it.

Logan was alone, sitting comfortably at a table for two in the back of a halfway decent food establishment, silently watching as the ice cubes in his water shifted and tapped against the glass while they melted with each passing second. Well, “comfortably” was a lie, of course. There was absolutely nothing comforting about being in such a place on his own, with only the dim flickering candles on the table to keep him company. He didn’t really know what the worst part of the whole thing even was. Was it the ever encroaching chatter that surrounded him? The sickeningly sweet music that played in the background? The blank, unflinching cold stone wall in front of him? Or perhaps, it was the still empty seat that sat mockingly at the other side of the table.

Indeed, Logan was unhappy, uncomfortable, and alone.

The nervous tapping of his foot was practically synonymous with the pattering rain against the windows. The typically majestic city view now nothing more than an amorphous glob of glowing lights amidst the water droplets and fog. He couldn’t help but repeatedly switch between checking his watch and frantically clicking his pen, occasionally scribbling down a loose nonsensical thought or two onto his little notepad. The action barely made a difference in soothing his racing mind, but he had to do something to distract himself. He’d do practically anything to ease the agony that was continuously settling in his heart with each passing minute. The absolute dread hanging over him like an impending guillotine.

This was foolish. Logan sighed. Surely he was overreacting. There must’ve been a reason. He thought to himself, but it was no use. Not a single thing he told himself could possibly make the immensely slow sinking weight forming at the pit of his stomach go away. Not. A single. Thing. For someone who typically prided himself on being able to, and rather efficiently mind you, keep his calm in the most stressful of situations, this was quite distressing to say the least.

He’s simply running late. He reasons to himself. It happens. You know that. Well, of course he did. There were practically an infinite amount of possibilities that could’ve delayed the arrival of the person he was waiting for, and most of them were not inherently related to Logan’s personal character. That was the most logical conclusion, anyway. Did that thought comfort him any though? No.

It’s been an hour, Logan. You must be joking if you still think he’s coming. Another thought tore through his mind. Well, he may not have been joking, but he was well aware of how ridiculous it must’ve seemed. Just him, sitting alone at a table for two, growing ever more and more desperate by the second. To hold on to even a sliver of hope must’ve seemed utterly utterly foolish. Every pitying glance by the passing waiter refilling his cup only served to make him feel even more miserable. He wished desperately, in that moment, that he could just disappear; he hoped he could shrink down in size so small that he wouldn’t have to be seen anymore. He wanted to completely collapse in on himself and crumple up like the pathetic scraps of paper he’d been unconsciously tearing out of his notes. He wanted the world to just fade to black, and for him to simply drift away into an endless void, away from everything. Away from this. Maybe then he’d be free from the dreaded weight that sat heavily upon his shoulders. He didn’t think his heart could even beat this fast, but there it was, hammering in his chest like a hyperactive hummingbird. 

He hated it.

He’s not coming, Logan. That thought instantly sank itself into the depths of his soul. He felt a lump begin to form in the back of his throat; it was almost nauseating. He’s not coming because he doesn’t want to see you. Another thought that dug itself into his mind. He felt his teeth harshly grind against each other as his jaws clenched, begging himself to hold back the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. He didn’t even give you a call. The world suddenly seemed to freeze. A quiet realization sent an absolutely disparaging chill down his spine. You didn’t even get the courtesy of knowing you’ve been rejected. He let out a weak shaky breath before finally lowering his face into his hands, completely defeated. This was beyond pathetic, honestly. How unbecoming of him to be this way. He wasn’t coming. He already fully knew how illogical it was to remain in his seat. Yet, a part of himself still refused to let him throw what remained of that practically shattered hope away. 

And so, the clock kept ticking still...

Logan wasn’t really sure how long it’s been at this point. Everything had begun to slowly meld together in his mind. Beyond the disappointment and despair was just the dull aching pain of rejection in his chest, not to mention the utterly dry and bitter taste in his mouth. He berated himself for being this pathetic about the whole thing, and a coward who couldn’t even muster up enough courage to stand up and go home. It was frustrating, because he knew better than this. It was both impractical and nonsensical to keep waiting. But he felt weak, and his two feet remained firmly stuck to the floor as if they were made of solid, immovable lead. The waiters have collectively decided to leave him alone at this point, which he had considered a small blessing. He didn’t want to bother pretending to smile or claim that everything was ok anymore; the energy was long depleted by now.

Logan let out yet another shaky breath, wrapping his arms around him and hugging himself tight, trying as he might to figuratively and literally “get a grip” on reality. What was he even waiting for? Why had he been so eagerly anticipating sitting at this table just a few hours before leaving work? What was the point? What was he doing? He still had tasks to do! There were still piles upon piles of work that had to be done at his desk but no, he was here. He was here, sitting alone, and doing nothing. Logan glanced down at his watch yet again, but its face was unreadable. His eyes blurry and unclear even as he rubbed the tears away, adjusted his glasses, and squinted. The only message it managed to send was just how much time he was wasting away by remaining where he currently was. Nobody was coming. His grip tightened, nails practically clawing at the sleeves of his suit. Never in his life had he felt so betrayed by something that originally had a perfect and fitting place within his schedule. What had he done wrong? Where did he make a mistake?

The gentle laughter and casual chattering of the surrounding atmosphere were  like needles in his back as he felt himself curl inwards. The sweet and decidedly romantic music that served as the loving backdrop for what was to be a pleasant evening for patrons was now mocking and decadent. It sounded almost like a distant echo, far far away. Something that he was always in the vicinity of, but will never truly be able to enjoy; a happiness he cannot obtain. He was trapped. He was trapped here, in a dim corner of a restaurant, with a lukewarm cup of water, weakly flickering candles, a cold unflinching wall, the pitter patter of rain, the incessant (and mildly imaginary) ticking of his watch, crumpled up scraps of note paper, sickening chatter, unappealing music, a dry bitter taste in his mouth, an unnerving feeling of cold sweat, a dizzying headache, a fast racing heart, a barely registering breath, a lump in his throat, and clearly watering eyes.

All at a half empty table for two.

He hated it.

He ended up sitting there for so long that he felt drained, empty. His eyes now only slightly stung when opened, but he kept them closed while he leaned against one arm against the table. By now he had, at the very least, managed to catch his breath. He felt so tired. Logan took a deep breath and glanced down at his watch yet again. It had only honestly been an hour and a half, not that much time at all in the grand scheme of things. And yet here he was, feeling like he had been stationary for several years. Perhaps it was finally time to go. He shifted his aching body to finally attempt to escape from this prison, but a hurried rush of footsteps instantly made him freeze up yet again.

It couldn’t be.

But it was.

“Oh my goodness god, you’re still here!”

Logan jolted at the sound of the sweet, silvery voice that rang out, very obviously filled with concern. He turned towards the person who hastily ran up to him, the cold hands cupped around his face immediately snapping him awake from his previous haze.

“I can’t believe you waited for me for this long!! Have you been here the whole time?? I’m- Oh my god I’m so so sorry Logan I-”

He honestly couldn’t even process what he was seeing, much less feeling. A man stood in front of him now, frantically gesturing and apologizing, and absolutely soaked to the core. Logan could very much feel the gazes of dozens of patrons on them now, but it didn’t matter. All he could do was stare with wide eyes at his date, whose suit was completely muddied and shoes absolutely ruined by the rain. He blinked a few times as he tried to understand what the man was even saying as he kept pausing and stuttering while constantly sweeping his matted and wet light brown hair out of his eyes. Seeing him there, standing in front of him, was enough to make Logan feel his heart slowly begin to beat once again.

“God, Logan, I know you must be mad at me, I’m- How could I possibly ever make this up to you? Oh god, oh dear, I can’t believe I did this to you! I’m just so sor-”

“Patton…” Logan finally managed, taking one of Patton’s cold hands into his and finally stopping his rambling. He took a silent moment to just quietly immerse himself into the other’s sparkling and visibly apologetic blue eyes. A beautiful and comforting sight for his literally sore ones. He felt something start to bubble up inside of him, and it began to slowly rise in his chest. A warm, fluttering feeling that rose, higher and higher, until a soft laugh finally slips from his lips. Patton’s expression instantly lightens at the sound, and Logan could feel the once soul crushing weight that surrounded him finally melt away. He gives Patton’s hand a light squeeze, an absolutely relieved smile now upon his face. “Patton. It’s ok.”

There wasn’t a single moment’s hesitation when Patton sprang forwards to wrap Logan in the tightest hug he could possibly manage. Despite the water that slowly seeped into Logan’s own clothes, and the hug being admittedly cold on account of Patton being completely drenched, he had never felt his heart swell with so much warmth in his entire life. They stayed locked in each other's embrace until Patton remembered his current condition and quickly backed off with yet another series of apologetic bows.

“Dear lord, now look what I’ve done. I went ahead and ruined your clothes too!” He giggled, trying his best to wipe away the water with a napkin to barely any success.

Logan just couldn’t help but smile at the clumsy yet adorable gesture. “Don’t worry about it. It’s clearly not as bad as whatever happened to you.” He pointed out. “Say, whatever did happen to you anyways? You weren’t answering any of my calls and I...I thought you weren’t going to…” He paused for a moment before opting to take a long sip out of his cup instead before shrugging. “You know.” He murmured, his body unintentionally stiffening at the insinuation.

Patton looked crushed at the thought, which he was unfortunately terribly aware of. He embarrassingly rubbed at the back of his neck and lowered his head. “I-I know, and I really am so sorry Logan. I...I didn’t expect you to still be here either. And I couldn’t even tell you! Oh geez… After making you wait so long, you probably honestly should have just-”

“It’s ok, Patton.” Logan reassured with a nod, voice barely a whisper. He gently lifted one of Patton’s hands and brushed his lips against the man’s knuckles. “What’s important is that you’re here. That’s enough.” He felt a small bit of pride as he watched Patton’s face flush at the unexpected gesture.

The man quickly took the hand back with a laugh before settling down in the seat across from Logan. At last, filling the space that completed the whole picture. 

“Still, the fact that I made you wait that long is terribly unreasonable. So just please let me-”

Logan chuckled, gesturing towards a leaf that was still stuck in his date’s hair, to which the other quickly pulled out with a flustered huff. 

“Logan, I’m trying to apologize here!”

“You already have.” He stated, quickly dismissing the concern with a smile. The other clearly had no defense against him doing that, to which Logan was fully aware of. The smile then curled into a satisfied smirk upon his silence. “So, are you going to tell me?”

Patton blinked in response. “O-Oh! Right! You aren’t going to believe this, but-”

And as Patton energetically attempted to recall his unfortunate run-in with the storm while trying to rescue a cat from a tree, forgetting he’s allergic to them, slipping up and falling out of said tree, missing the bus, and losing his phone in the entire process, Logan simply sat comfortably across from him, fully content to listen to his story. It was ridiculous, it was nonsensical, and it was of course, entirely hilarious, but he enjoyed every word that came out of the mouth of the sweet and adorable man that now accompanied him. Patton’s rain stained glasses, half dried and now puffing up hair, and his freckled smile, completely lit up the once dim and lifeless corner of the restaurant they sat in. Nothing could have detracted from that moment in time. Not the rain, not the stares, and certainly not how the time just seemed to fly by, even during the comfortable silence that sat between them while they both enjoyed their meals. Logan wouldn’t have missed any of it for the world.

Here at this table for two.

[365days365movies]

March 12, 2021: Jason and the Argonauts (Review)

We gotta revitalize the mythology epic film.

I loved this movie...mostly. I’ll get to the “mostly” of it all, but I need to first say that I love the idea of this film. I desperately want more films based (faithfully) on Greek mythology. Please. PLEASE. And I know, I know, Paramount made a Clash of the Titans reboot in 2010, and it was...

...bad. It was really bad. Also probably ended Sam Worthington’s career, because dude VANISHED into the aether of Hollywood after this movie, and its equally bad sequel, Wrath of the Titans. I know, OK? But I still desperately want Greek mythology films.

And yeah, this would be an...OK start, but there’s so much potential! We’ve had Troy to cover Homer’s Iliad, and Troy wasn’t terrible, but we NEED an Odyssey movie, for the love of GOD. Do you know how much goddamn potential there is for an Odyssey movie? 

And I’m fully aware of O Brother Where Art Thou, but it’s loosely based on the story at best. We need an Odyssey movie, is all I’m saying. Not just that, though. We need a new movie about Hercules (non-Disney, and NOT starring the Rock), a movie about a normal Greek dude navigating the complex world of the gods, maybe a movie about Theseus or Perseus (again, yes, I know), and, of course, a Jason and the Argonauts movie.

I need this. I need this more than I can express. Oh, and I really want these films to be accurate, not the fast-and-loose approach to mythology that 1963′s film incarnation played. And oh...let’s get to THAT, shall we? Check out Part One and Part Two of the Recap for more on that, if you’d like more details!

Review

Cast and Acting: 9/10

Much to my everlasting surprise, the acting in this film is actually pretty good! Yeah, it’s definitely got that stereotypical 1960s flair, but it actually makes sense for an epic film based on Greek mythology. It all feels very epic, very grand, and the actors definitely help to contribute to that feeling. Up top, of course, you’ve got Todd Armstrong playing the noble Jason...kinda. Yeah, we’ll get to that, but he only played the character physically, while his voice was overdubbed by Tim Turner. Which...yeah, again, more on that later. But Armstrong is backed by some good support, especially Honor Blackman, Laurence Naismith, and Nancy Kovack, whose turn as the future murderer Medea actually shows her potential villainy in her sparse performance. Seriously, I was impressed by her characterization! This movie surprised me in terms of its acting. Although...Nigel Green as Heracles is only OK, and I’m a little chuffed that he only lasted through some of the film. Of course, that harkens to my BIGGEST issue...

Plot and Writing: 7/10

...OK, look, I know in my heart-of-hearts that judging the story of this film, adapted by Beverley Cross and Jan Read, as based on The Argonautica by Appolonius Rhodius, is unfair. It is. I’m aware of this, don’t worry. But that said...it’s not as good as the original story. Or, at the very least, it makes some weird choices that could’ve been changed. I went through the major inaccuracies in my Recap (too much, at that), so I won’t touch on most of that here. BUT, I do have some points to get through. Bear with me (or just skip this section, let’s be honest).

Missing Argonauts: Literally, the only major Argonaut from the story that actually gets to do something is Heracles, and he DOESN’T GET TO BE HERACLES. Dude is the most famous demigod of all time, and he never gets to do anything more than hold open a door and piss of Talos. Yeah. Disappointing as HELL. But that’s not THE WORST of it. Sure, Atalanta can be unused, as she wasn’t in many versions of the myth anyway. But the Wind Brothers? They’re necessary for defeating the Harpies, but they’re nowhere to be seen. Castor and Pollux? Oh, they’re in the movie, and they don’t do ANYTHING. Orpheus? ORPHEUS? YOU DIDN’T INCLUDE ORPHEUS AT ALL? Orpheus is arguably the most important of the Argonauts outside of Jason and Heracles, and he’s just...nonexistent. That’s just patently offensive. You really couldn’t give Harryhausen the chance to make Sirens? That would’ve been amazing! Speaking of them...

Missing and Misplaced Perils: Yeah, OK, this one’s a little unfair, because I don’t think putting Talos in here was a bad idea AT ALL. It’s actually my favorite part of the film, not gonna lie. But yeah, he was present on the return journey, not the journey to Colchis. But OK, whatever. At least we have the Harpies, the Clashing Rocks, the Sirens, the...oh wait. Where are the Sirens? I guess with no Orpheus, there are no Sirens, but...we really should’ve had both in here, come on.

Acastus: Yeah, here’s a weird criticism, but Acastus really was misused in here as well. He was actually one of Jason’s Argonauts, and came back from the journey on good terms with him...until Medea manipulated and tricked his sisters into cutting their father into pieces in order to gain promised immortality and boil those pieces for consumption. Yeah. Medea’s evil as SHIT. But turning Acastus into a heel-turn villain was...unnecessary, I think. Not that bad, though, so I guess this is a nitpick. I guess I would’ve liked to see the group return, and have had Acastus side with Jason against Pelias. I think that would’ve been neat. And speaking of Pelias...

The Ending: WHAT THE FUCK WAS WITH THE ENDING? Really? No conclusion to the story? What happens on the journey back? What happens with Pelias and Jason? Does Jason become King of Thessaly, now that Acastus is dead? Come on, man, what the hell! I HATE how that film ends so much, because there’s just nothing. Jason escapes by jumping off a cliff, the soldiers are still around (and are probably gonna kill the Colchian soldiers out of bloodlust), and Jason and Medea kiss, AND THE MOVIE ENDS. GAAAAAAAH

...Yeah, the plot could use some work, I think. But the worst part is...it’s still not a bad version of the story. Yeah! Despite all of my problems with it, most of the changes narratively make sense, outside of the original Argonautica. So, all things considered, I’m probably being too harsh on this film for personal reasons. What can I say, I love Greek mythology? But, I can still admit that this film is well-plotted out...for what it is.

Directing and Cinematography: 8/10

Is it the most groundbreaking direction by Don Chaffey, or the best cinematography by Wilkie Cooper? Well, no, but it’s still good. There aren’t exactly any amazing and groundbreaking shots here, but I also have no complains about either of these categories. So, yeah, not bad, guys. However...

Production and Art Design: 10/10

...the film still LOOKS fantastic. Because the production, set, and art design of this movie are all fantastic. From the costumes, to the Argo, to the authentic-looking sets, this movie looks great. And, of course...there are the effects by Ray Harryhausen. Which deserves the biggest chef’s kiss I can muster. Some of you may be thinking, “I dunno man, those effects don’t fully hold up.” To which I must remind you, that this film is 57 years old. FIFTY. SEVEN. Look, for the time period, this is groundbreaking, and it honestly looks pretty good today, even with the advent of better technologies. And the fact that these are technically physical objects does make this film look more...well, real, to be honest. It all looks pretty real, in a way. And they’re even pretty well-integrated with the live-action actors, much to my surprise. Gotta say, I love it. Antiquated, maybe, but also authentic. I love it.

Music and Editing: 9/10

Music, done by Bernard Hermann, is stellar and BOOMING. It’s an epic score for an epic story, and I also love it. As for the editing by Maurice Rootes, it’s also pretty great. Except for the sound editing. Yeah, um, the sound-editing for this movie isn’t great. It’s not bad, but it definitely isn’t amazing, especially in the base of dubbing for Jason and Medea. Oh, yeah, she’s dubbed over by Eva Haddon, forgot to mention that. And it’s pretty obvious. It’s a weak point, is what I’m saying.

88%, which might be a little...biased.

I love Greek mythology (he said for the eightieth time), and that may have colored my perception of this film. And yet, I do still really like this movie! It’s a classic film, and I’m looking forward to the other film of it’s caliber coming in a few days!

For the next one, though, I’ll have to do something non-Greek myth based. I mean, to continue the previously established trend...back to Japan for 3 HOURS? Oh...oh shit. I may have to break this next one up.

March 13, 2021: Kwaidan (1965)

[scarlet--wiccan]

You can ignore this if you don’t have any thoughts but what your ideal new young avengers run look like? Who would be on the team, what would you even call it now that they’re all adults (except Cassie I guess?)

One of my favorite things about Young Avengers, which I think is often underplayed to the detriment of the characters, is that the team is routinely forced to operate outside of the law and against the wishes of their elders. In the core YA books, the kids are more often working in opposition to the Avengers rather than in cooperation. These are characters whose methods and motives are not usually aligned with those of the established superhero organizations, which is also reflected in many of their appearances beyond YA-- Strikeforce and Empyre are great examples, as are Cassie's adventures in Astonishing Ant-Man. This rebel element is often at odds with the fact that many of the characters admire the Avengers, or have close personal relationships with individual Avengers members. The dissonance becomes especially strong when Billy and Teddy, who have the most reason to distrust and resent them following Children's Crusade, are consistently characterized as Avengers fanboys.

That's not to say that I think the Young Avengers should, like, hate the old Avengers, but I do think that this tension is a key part of the series. The 2005 run was about a group of kids who stepped up, at a very young age, to do a job that wasn't getting done because the previous generation had failed, only to get shot down by the people who had failed them in the first place. It's about a group of kids grappling with complex and painful family histories, and, in many ways, they're foils to the Runaways, which is why I don't really like it when they play junior Avengers or emulate the traditional superhero team structure-- WCA was really fun, but I'm not going to pitch a second volume, you know? I much prefer them operating as an ad hoc group, mainly because they each come from different backgrounds, have different goals, and work in different fields. They're not people who work together because they're part of an organization, they're people who show up for each other because they're friends and they care about one another. That is, in my mind, a more effective approach to a team book with such disparate characters than what the typical Avengers title tries to do.

So, anyways, that's what I think makes Young Avengers special and it's why I think the book still has a place in the Marvel world. Pitching actual story ideas is hard now because Teddy and Billy are, apparently, living off-world and very busy being royalty. In my previous post, I outlined an older idea for a BillyTeddy ongoing series that could have easily functioned as a third volume of Young Avengers, but would require some editing to work in a post-Empyre world. The idea was for Billy and Teddy's apartment in New York to act as a base of operations for a revolving cast of their friends, who come and go over the course of various story arcs. The two of them are presumably living full-time in space now, but it's also been established that they're magically anchored to each other in a way that makes it easy for Billy to warp between New York and the throneship-- anywhere Teddy goes, Billy can instantly follow, and vice-versa, which means that the series could still use Earth as a main setting without pulling the royal couple out of their other storyline.

I'd love a Young Avengers/Runaways crossover set in space-- their previous crossovers mostly have to do with alien drama, after all, and I've been itching to get Xavin back on page. I'm very serious when I say that I want Xavin, Teddy and Noh to be best friends, and I think they'd be fun leads for a miniseries, or even the opening arc of a limited run that eventually folds in the other YA and Runaways characters. I'm imagining an extended version of the interstellar road trip from YA (2013). Maybe Teddy will recruit his two closest alien friends to go on a sensitive diplomatic mission where he can only bring a small party, but it turns out to be some kind of trap and they end up stranded somewhere and have to, like fight their way out of hostile territory and make their way back to the Alliance with no ship. Billy can reach Teddy, obviously, but he can't just warp the whole party home because the distance is too great or they're in an alternate dimension or something, so he rounds up a rescue party and Karolina insists on coming along because, I don't know, the Light Brigade is mixed up in this and she feels like it's her responsibility to help Xavin even though they haven't seen each other in years. Nico obviously comes along with her, and can help Billy with tracking spells.

I'd also like to see a YA book led by the series' most under-served characters-- Tommy, Eli, and Cassie. Building off of Cassie's capers in Ant-Man, I'd be very into a heist or espionage story about the three of them, probably joined by Kate because she'd add a lot of cohesion to the cast and is so well suited to this type of adventure. Maybe they're undercover, and they have to, like, fake-fight some of the other Young Avengers, but they all join forces once the misunderstanding is cleared up. I'm picturing a cold open where the whole first issue is made up of, like, security camera footage of three masked figures breaking into a high-tech vault at AIM or Roxxon, and they steal a bunch of weaponry and fight their way out through a bunch of goons, but then it's revealed that the whole thing was a distraction to cover up a fourth intruder who moves too fast for the cameras to track. At the end of the issue, it's revealed to the reader that the intruders are the Young Avengers, and the real prize was a computer holding the last backup of Jonas's AI. The rest of the first arc is about them trying to rebuild Jonas with help from Vee, but they have to keep it a secret from the Avengers because they're planning an even bigger heist against, like Kate's dad, and they need to keep the whole operation under wraps because he's got eyes and ears all over.

I'm not particularly eager for another fantasy story after CC and YA(2013), but I'd be into a cosmic-fantasy arc about America solving some sort of inter-dimensional crisis or chasing a villain across worlds with Tommy and Billy's help. I really want more development between America and Billy, but I also think that she'd be really funny friends with Tommy and I want to see more of him playing off of magic characters. Maybe Leah (the one from Earth-15513 that's living on Earth-616 now) receives a mysterious message from Loki and asks the Young Avengers to help her track them down. America and Billy volunteer and Tommy tags along. Along the way they end up discovering some sort of evil curse or spell and go on a quest through various dimensions in order to break it. In the end it turns out the whole thing was set up by Loki to manipulate them into defeating an evil alternate-universe Loki-- maybe the one from Leah's native dimension-- because Evil Loki had used an enchantment that made it impossible for 616-Loki to harm them, which includes allies who are knowingly fighting on Loki's behalf. Better yet, it's a proxy war, and Evil Loki has recruited pawns of their own-- including Sylvie and Lisa from the Young Masters! 616-Loki does come clean when the dust is settled and finally reconnects with the Young Avengers. Loki is glad that Leah found a way to escape her destiny, but they admit that they don't feel they've succeeded in breaking out of their own cycle, to which America and Billy are like "we've seen how far you've come, but you need to remember that people care about you and stop bailing on us when we actually want to talk it out with you," which Tommy backs up because, like, he's been that person. Friendship! Character arcs that don’t fizzle out when a book wraps in under twenty issue!

Anyways, if we got a third Young Avengers volume, I'd prefer a limited run with a cohesive story, but all of the ideas I just outlined would probably work better as smaller arcs in an ongoing series. I have a lot of ideas about tying up loose threads and continuing arcs that are already in motion, but I'm hesitant to plot out what the next big step in these characters' lives should be. I definitely think it's time to give Tommy and Cassie another shot at the spotlight, and I want Eli to come back with a new costume and codename.

At this phase, it's just really hard for me to land on any larger, deeper stories because I'm so unsure of what the next few years will look like for Billy and Teddy. There's also an America title that's been in production limbo since the pandemic started, and I feel like there's some kind of drama on the horizon between the Maximoffs and Krakoa which would theoretically impact the twins as well. I also anticipate editorial pushing for Kate in a Hawkeye book when the tv show comes out.

[kyndaris]

A Vikingr Saga for the Ages

Ever since the first game in the franchise, I was enraptured by the idea of stalking my prey on the rooftops of Renaissance Italy and then leaping down - slaying them with a flourish. I didn’t know it yet but the marriage between history and stealthy parkour had me hooked from the very first trailer for Assassin’s Creed. When the series pivoted towards mythology and set further in history than ever before, I eagerly followed. From Ptolemaic Egypt to Ancient Greece. It should come as no surprise that I devoured, then, that I devoured as much of the world that I could in the latest entry: Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla. And after clocking in just under 150 hours, there is much for me to unpack in Ubisoft’s latest entry into the Assassin’s Creed franchise. That, and a fierce desire to finally start watching Vikings. 

When I initially booted up Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla (AC:V), I will admit that I was a little disappointed with the control scheme. Once again, Ubisoft had made it a confusing mess with trigger buttons instead of face buttons used to attack. Since I had just come from Spider-Man: Miles Morales, it took a good long while for me to adjust. Several hours later, after fumbling through my first battle with a lost drengr (I actually dumbed down the difficulty a litte), I finally managed to find my footing and was on my way to England to scrape out a place for the Raven Clan.

As for stealth...well, the less said about it the better. I never found it effective. It was much easier to smash my way through, axe in hand (or greatsword) and lay waste to their paltry resistance with a mixture of heavy attacks and parrying. I also, hardly used the bow (one of my favourite weapons to being stealthy in Origins and Odyssey). 

The story in AC: V is a little messy. Most of it is done through a separate arcs for each territory Eivor ventures through: from East Anglia to Snotinghamscire, with little to link it all together except the main character. Were it not for the very loose story threat surrounding Sigurd and the conquering of Mercia to establish a firm foothold in this new land of England, many of the storylines could be regarded as standalone adventures in Eivor’s epic saga of conquest.

That doesn’t, of course, mean it’s bad. Merely disjointed. Particularly when I went from Jorvik and its Yule Tide celebrations to Glowecestrescire that was right in the midst of Samhain right after each other. Did I go back in time? Or did almost an entire year fly past Eivor with none the wiser?

Still, even though they were mostly standalone storylines, I still very much liked all the characters I met along the way. My favourites were the earnest Hunwald, noble Ceolbert (his death was almost as bad as all the horse deaths I’ve encountered in video games) and fun-loving Twydwr (particularly when he and Eivor were drunk, and messing with the local chickens) On the Norse side, I very much enjoyed the banter between Eivor and her childhood friend Vili. But the one that I admisted most was Soma. She was the jarlskona of Grantebridgescire - the first place I explored after landing in England. And one, I hoped I could romance to some degree. Alas, my hopes were dashed on that end.

What I did find a little intriguing were how Sigurd and Eivor were sages for the Isus: Odin and Tyr. And in their little Raven Clan, revealed much later, was also Freyr. It seemed strange that so many of the reincarnated Isu were all incredibly close at hand.

In this title, Ubisoft was able to focus again a little more on their complex lore that was seeded throughout the first few games. And while some questions were answered, it still left plenty of mysteries of where the games go from here - particularly from a modern-day standpoint. Though I am reluctant to see the franchise go, it does feel like Ubisoft is finally coming to a close on the grand story that they are trying to tell. What the end result turns out to be is still to be determined, but more emphasis needs to be focused on the central conflict.

For a game that still has Assassin’s Creed in the title, Eivor’s connection with the order and their enemies seemed very tangential. While I killed many Order of the Ancient members, there was no sense of personal investiture, like, say with Ezio’s quest. The only ones that I felt motivated to put an end to were Fulke and Kjotve the Cruel. Unfortunately, all the build-up in the first scenes with Eivor were quickly resolves within the first two to three hours of the game, and Fulke’s arc was all but over in the half-way point.

I suppose the main reason for my discontent with the narrative of AC: V is the fact that there is no Big Bad for Eivor and her Raven Clan. Yes, Aelfred of Wessex is a ‘villain’ that hinders our protagonist, but he never felt like an oppressive threat. 

Basim’s reveal, somewhat late in the game, was also a little underwhelming. Yes, he did look an awful lot like Loki, but how did he manage to get to Norway? He hadn’t accompanied Sigurd and Eivor. Did he travel with a third party? How did he know that Sigurd and Eivor would be in the ruins of an Isu temple? So many questions, so little time.

Then there was the whole ‘Heir of Memories’ and the fact that Layla seemed so worn. After finishing Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey, my last impression of her was receiving the Staff of Hermes Trismegistus from Kassandra and being hopeful for the future. Fast forward to AC: V and Layla is tired. The world is on the edge of destruction once again and she’s now paired up with married couple: Rebecca Crane and Shaun Hastings (the two last appearing undercover in Assassin’s Creed IV: Black Flag). 

On a side note, why are their adventures all done in the comics or some other media? AND WHY DO I NOT HAVE ACCESS TO ANY OF THIS?

And because I didn’t play the expansions for Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey, I knew too little regarding the modern-day struggles with Layla. In fact, I basically resorted to the Assassin’s Creed wiki to bring me up to date. Honestly, DLC should never be story-related. Or, if it is, should be more tangential rather than major. It’s a terrible practice that quite a few publishers do, and which leaves players such as myself playing catch-up.

The only one that landed with any oomph (at least for me) were the Asgard and Jotunheim arcs. These were connected and told the story of Havi as he struggled to find a way to avert his fate. The final battle also proved challenging and climactic. A far cry from the ‘endings’ that the main story provided. In all honesty, I probably should have left that to last while completing everything else first. But the temptation was too great and I was vastly overlevelled.

I also enjoyed the play on the Norse myths. The only downside with the Builder was that there was no horse to help him. And so, there was no sexy mare Loki to tempt away the Builder’s horse - giving birth to Sleipnir. The other stuff, though, was clever. And I liked the references made to other myths, such as fighting against ‘old age’ and Thrym’s disastrous marriage to ‘Thor dressed as Freyr.’

What was also a little odd, at least for me, was that there was no definitive part where the credits rolled. Much like in Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey and Assassin’s Creedy: Origins. Personally, I hate it. Credits give closure and tell gamers that the narrative that they were pursuing has come to an end. It lets me reflect on everything that I experienced and is an indication that I can finally set the controller down.

Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla also came with its fair share of bugs and glitches. Many, after reading up on them, made me frightened to continue. One, in particular, took me a while to figure out an alternative to: entering Lunden. I didn’t help that the more I read, the more I worried about encountering a game-breaking bug. Thankfully, most were simply treasure hoards not loading, late texture pop-ins that were a little frightening, and the drunk Eivor every time I loaded up the game. 

Despite its many faults, I still very much enjoyed my time roaming around England, Vinland and Norway as I worked to build up Eivor’s reputation and to ensure her name would be sung for ages to come. Like a true Vikingr, I played copious amounts of orlog, drank mead and tore up the battlefield to create a home for my people.

Even better, at Gunnar’s wedding, I managed to finally woo Randvi (who I abstained from bedding down with earlier on in the game)! That, perhaps, elevated the game for me and I can be happy knowing that all my hard work paid off.

(As an additional aside, I also love how many of the side quests or ‘mysteries’ in AC: Valhalla made references to popular culture. From Winnie the Pooh to Alice in Wonderland. AND ROBIN HOOD! THE NPC CALLED LITTLE JOHN HAD ME GUFFAWING!)

[kay-diggle]

Choices

Summary: You have a decision to make about your relationship with Hoseok.

Pairing: Hoseok x Female Reader, Established Relationship

Genre & Rating: Angst & Smut, 18+

Warnings: Jealousy, kinda-cheating, a little alcohol consumption, mentions of toxic relationship, protected sex, unprotected sex (pls use protection guys!), slight overstimulation, shower sex, dom!hoseok, kinda switch!reader, two sex scenes

Length: 4.1k words

Notes: HELLOOOO!! So, I guess you can kinda say I'm on a semi-hiatus, but this idea came to me so randomly and I couldn't not write it.Plus I’m so happy that I’ve finally written something for our sunshine, Hobi!! This is my first time doing angst so I don't really know how good it'll be, but nevertheless I hope you guys enjoy it! Also, I kind of had an idea of how I could turn this into a series, so let me know if you’d be into that!! {Requests are closed at the moment.}

Kay-Diggle’s Masterlist

This fic is currently unedited.

.

.

.

You and your boyfriend Hoseok had been dating for the past three years. At first, he was everything you had ever wanted and your relationship was perfect. It was like a never ending honeymoon phase for the first two years and a half. There were the constant butterflies, elaborate dates, heart felt conversations, and great sex. But over the past six months, the butterflies in your stomach fluttered less, the dates became nonexistent and the heartfelt conversations morphed into intense arguments. The one aspect of your relationship that remained the same was the sex, except now it only came when you were angry and needed to fuck each other’s brains out to release some of the tension.

Needless to say, your relationship with Hoseok seemed to be going downhill, fast. Every friend you vented to assured you that it was just a “rough patch” and the two of you would eventually get over it and go back to normal. But it had already been six months, and eventually wasn’t coming fast enough. It was hard coming to terms with it, but you were no longer happy.

And tonight was your final straw.

Your friend group which included the mutual friends that you shared with Hoseok decided to go out tonight. You were hesitant at first, not wanting to give them a first hand look at how your relationship was falling apart, but you decided that you would be able to play it off for one night. Oh boy were you wrong.

Everything was going well at first. You and Hoseok kind of avoided each other, and you followed your girlfriends to the dance floor. Twerking, grinding on each other, and just feeling the beat of the music move through your body, you were actually having a good time. It had been a while since you were this carefree, mind not clouded with the thoughts of the impending doom of your relationship.

That was until you felt sweat dripping down your neck and decided it was time to walk away for a moment and cool off. You had a smile on your face when you ordered your drink and took the first sip, but as you looked in the corner of the club across from you, your drink slowly dropped from your lips, along with your smile.

There you saw Hoseok leaning against the wall, drink in hand, while some random girl was desperately grinding her ass all over him. The sight made you sick, yet you found yourself being unable to look away. Hoseok looked like he was having a good time, guiding the girl with one hand on her hip while grinding against her himself. You couldn’t even say you were shocked when she turned around, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pulled him into a kiss.

You weren’t shocked, but you were definitely hurt. You couldn’t believe that he would let another girl dance on him with you and all of your friends present, couldn’t believe that he would even entertain her. But what hurt you the most was seeing the minimal amount of effort he used to push her away. He seemed very reluctant, as if he only stopped her because he felt he had to but really didn’t want to.

Within seconds, you felt tears beginning to well in your eyes, and you couldn’t control it. The crack in your heart that had been developing within the past six months had expanded.

You watched as Hoseok looked through the crowd, presumably for you. When his eyes found yours and saw your tear stained cheeks, he frowned. He knew he fucked up.

Wordlessly, you picked up your bag and walked out, not even bothering to say goodbye to him or any of your friends. You thought he would chase you, assuming he actually cared that much, so when you stepped outside, you hopped in the first cab you could find and went back to your shared apartment. You needed time to think.

You were awarded 15 minutes that you spent crying, until Hoseok got home. You heard him running through your place, calling out for you until he opened the bedroom door and found you sitting at the edge of the bed.

“Y/n….. sweetheart, I can explain.”

“No thanks,” you mumbled a response.

“So, you’re not even going to let me defend myself now?” he scoffed.

“No Hoseok,” you sighed. “I’m not. There’s no point. We both know that whenever one of us tries to explain or defend ourselves, we end up fighting. And the last thing I want to do right now is fight with you. There’s no need for a pointless argument tonight.”

He was truly surprised. Usually, you’d be giving him hell right now, cursing him out, throwing things at him and the like. He didn’t understand why you were backing down so easily.

And then he looked at you, really looked at you. Your face looked defeated, eyes tired. You looked so unhappy and the only thing he wanted to do in that moment was fix that.

Dropping to his knees at your feet, he placed his hands on your thighs, drawing your attention there and then to his face.

“Y/n? Baby, I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry that I hurt you. She meant nothing. That kiss meant noth-”  

“Stop,” you cringed. “Hoseok, I just told you I don’t want to hear it. I mean it.”

“Well, what can I do to make this right, to make you feel better?”

You sighed again. Right now, you didn’t think there was anything to do. You had never felt like this before, so hopeless and out of touch. But if there was something that was going to make you feel even remotely better, you knew what it was.

You grabbed Hoseok’s hands and rose from the bed, prompting him to stand with you.

“You can fuck me like you hate me.”

A look of surprise overtook and nervousness overtook his face. He couldn’t tell the motive behind your request, especially with such a vulgar description, and that in itself had him worried.

“Baby, are you sure that’s something we should do right now? We should talk first.”

You rolled your eyes. “Hoseok, what are you not understanding. I. DON’T WANT TO TALK. Now you can either fuck me or get out. Your choice.”

With the attitude behind your words and your tone of voice, Hoseok realized this was serious, you were serious. And with a terrible feeling blooming in his chest, he went against his better judgement and gave into your demands.

Bending down, he placed his lips on yours slowly, too slowly for your liking. At first you were disgusted, the thought that someone else had just been kissing him less than an hour ago lingering in the back of your head, but you pushed all thoughts aside. You needed him tonight.

Jumping up and wrapping your legs around his torso without your lips disconnecting, Hoseok laid you down in a sea of pillows, hovering over you. He noticed how you were being more needy than usually, hungrily kissing him and rubbing your pelvis against his. He however, was in the opposite mood tonight, trying to kiss you with passion while slowly letting his hands travel the expanse of your body. This only served to annoy you.

Breaking away from the kiss with a grunt, you pushed him up so that he was sitting on his knees.

“What part of ‘fuck me like you hate me’ did you not understand Hoseok?” you said before pulling your shirt off your head.

You pushed his jacket off of his shoulders, letting it land somewhere on the floor before your hands traveled down his body. You were able to unbuckle his belt before you felt him roughly push your body back onto your back. When you looked at him again, you saw the darkness in his eyes and it only made you more excited to know that he wanted you too.

He took the belt out of the loops of his leather jeans before throwing it without care and bending down to capture your lips with his once more. With him being closer, you took this as the chance to start unbuttoning his white shirt. However, it was taking too long and once you were halfway done, you just ripped the rest of his shirt open, fabric torn with buttons flying everywhere.

“Y/n….” he growled out your name, obviously annoyed that you just ruined his perfectly good shirt.

“Sorry,” you breathed out. “Just not in the mood to take things slowly tonight.”

And with that, you kissed him again, undressing each other with a much more rushed pace now.

While Hoseok was busy leaving marks on your neck, one of your hands traveled to the nightstand of your bed, pulling out a loose condom package and shutting the dresser, startling him. You wasted no time in flipping you both over so that you were on top, hands traveling down his chest for a moment before hastily using your teeth to rip open the condom package. You threw the empty package on the floor and proceeded to roll it down his length, using a bit more pressure than needed which had your boyfriend biting down hard on his lip.

You lined him up to your entrance, and slowly slid down until your ass hit his pelvis, taking in his entire length. You hadn’t been prepped, but you were so wet that the stretch was more than bearable. His breath hitched when he felt your walls squeezing him so tightly and his hands took to grabbing at your waist. You took a moment to adjust to the feeling and then completely caught Hoseok off guard when you began bouncing on his dick at a fast pace. It hurt, but there was pleasure underneath the pain so you continued to push through. It became easier when you placed your hands on his chest and leaned over, giving him better access to thrust his hips up to meet yours as you continued to ride him as if your life depended on it while his hands guided your hips.

Your room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, the headboard continuously hitting the wall, and the vulgar curse words leaving both of your mouths. Everything became so much more intense when Hoseok moved his hands from your body and to your face, moving your hair out of the way and cupping your face, forcing you to stare into his eyes.

“Fuck Y/n,” he groaned out. The only thing you could do was moan in response.

You switched from riding him to slowly swiveling your hips against him, stimulating your clit and bringing you closer to your orgasm. As you did so, Hoseok made sure to continue with little thrusts into you until you were ready to ride him again. When you continued, he slightly moved underneath you, angling his hips perfectly. You were tightening against him, a tell tale sign that you were close to your end, and he wanted to help. Removing one hand from your face, he took a moment to stare at your breasts that were moving with your bounces. Leaning forward, he took a nipple into your mouth, causing you to let out a broken moan. His teeth grazed it, then nibbled before he began sucking.

Using two fingers from his other hand, he placed them in your mouth, prompting you to suck them. Once you got them nice and wet with your spit, his hand traveled to the place where your bodies were connecting, leaving a trail of wetness, and he rubbed on your swollen clit. The added pleasure had you crying out for him.

“Hoseok, fuckkkkkk.” You couldn’t even look at him, closing your eyes and tilting your head back. You were definitely going to lose it soon and he was determined to get you through it.

“Nuh uh,” he said, letting your nipple fall out of his mouth. “Open your eyes y/n.”

“Can’t…. Ugh GOD, you feel so fucking good with your dick inside me.”

You felt his hand that wasn’t occupied toying around with your clit wrap around your throat and squeeze at the sides, effectively cutting off some of your air supply.

“Now, open your eyes and look at me while I fuck you… mmhh.. While I make you cum around this cock that you love so much. Open them,” he demanded.

At this point, you felt that you had no choice but to listen. He watched as your eyelids fluttered open, dark as ever and filled with nothing but lust. When he made a slight movement in the angle of his hips, that did it for you.

You let out a choked scream when you felt your orgasm move through your body. It was so intense that it had you feeling weak but empowered at the same time, bouncing even harder on Hoseok’s dick. When it passed through, your legs were shaking and your walls were pulsating and convulsing all around Hoseok’s sensitive cock. He was extremely close.

He let go of his hold on your neck, but before you could even breath in a whiff of air, he turned you over onto your back, just as you had did to him before and entered your throbbing cavern once again. His thrusts were hard and punishing and the overstimulation had you wincing in a little pain. But not before long, Hoseok’s thrusts were becoming sloppy and less calculated, rushing for his release. You used your hands to push his sweat soaken hair out of his eyes and lightly cupped his face all while you used your hips to fuck him back.

“You need to cum Hobi,” the nickname you hadn’t called him in forever slipped out. “Cum for me.”

“Fuck y/n. Ugh you’re so fucking tight, so wet. God, I love fucking you.”

You looked away from him for a moment. His words triggered something inside of you that you couldn’t explain. The word ‘fucking’ between the ‘“I love” and “you” had you bothered. Hoseok didn’t seem to catch on though, as he pushed your hips down to completely still you and thrusted inside as deep as he could. He let out a drawn out moan, and you felt his hot load spill into the condom, indicating that he reached his end as well. He held his weight up, hovering over you, but continued to lean down and give your shoulder a light kiss before rolling over and lying on his back. You watch him for a second as he discarded the soiled condom before announcing that you were going to take a shower.

After using the restroom, you turned on the water and waited for it to heat up. Once it was to your liking, you got in and stood there for a moment, letting the hot water drip down your body while you thought everything over. You knew you should’ve listened to Hoseok and talked about the situation before having sex. You knew that if you tried to bring it up now, it would only make matters worse because you ignored him when he wanted to work it out and instead requested that he fuck you. You didn’t know what came over you, but what you did know was that you had a decision to make.

You were so preoccupied in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice him join you in the shower. You jumped slightly when he put his hands on your shoulders and immediately moved to scrub your body, as if you were disgusted by his touch. You moved closer to the shower head, creating distance between the two of you to Hoseok’s dislike. He scoffed and pulled you back towards him, hands wrapping around your waist in an attempt to make peace.

“Let go of me Hoseok. You’re in my way,” you pushed his arms off of you in a less than nice way.

He gripped your arm and turned you around to face him, a slightly annoyed look on his face.

“Is this still about earlier? I said I’m sorry Y/n.”

“Yea well, when you break something and say ‘sorry’ to it, does it magically become fixed? Didn’t think so.”

“It’s not even that big of a deal. She kissed me and I walked away. End of story,” he shrugged it off, grabbing his soap and starting to clean himself off as well.

And then you exploded. “No big deal? What the fuck Hoseok. You shouldn’t have even been dancing with her in the first place. All of our friends were there. Do you know how embarrassing it was to see you openly dancing with some random bitch in the club when I, your girlfriend, was less than twenty feet away. How heartbroken I was because of it?” When you felt your eyes filing with tears again, you had to turn away from him and go back to washing.

“Y/n, I’m telling you it wasn’t that serious.”

“So why were you dancing with her in the first place? An honest answer….” you turned back to him.

“I… “ he sighed. I did it because I knew it would bother you,” he admitted but quickly added “but I didn’t know she’d kiss me, honestly.”

The only thing you could do was look at him in disbelief.

“Wow… so you did something to deliberately hurt me? Do you even realize how toxic that is Hoseok? How toxic we’ve become?”

“We’re not toxic,” he shook his head in denial.

“Hoseok, we can’t even hold a regular conversation for five minutes without finding something to argue about. And the only time we’re not down each other’s throats is when we’re having sex. That is definitely toxic. We’re toxic together,” you sighed, feeling defeated once again when you came to the realization.

“Y/n, you can’t be serious,” he went to grab for you again but you deflected, moving as far away from him as your shower could allow.

“Just leave me alone, Hoseok. Seriously.”

“You know what Y/n? If you keep pushing me away like this, you will lose me. For good,” he threatened.

“Oh my god,” you let out a bitter laugh. “I’VE ALREADY LOST YOU HOSEOK,” you couldn’t help but raise your voice. You looked down at your feet and added a quiet, “we both know it. Somewhere down the line we lost each other.”

But Hoseok refused to believe it. He didn’t want to. He knew things weren’t as great right now, but he didn’t know how you truly felt. He just wanted to fix everything he helped ruin between the two of you.

Moving closer to your figure, his hands reached behind you to stroke your back while he looked down into your eyes. “So maybe we can find each other again, y/n.”

“I don’t know Hoseok…” you trailed off, avoiding his eyes.

“Well I’m not going down without a fight. I love you, Y/n. I don’t want to lose you baby.”

That made the dam break, tears escaping your eyes — tears he rushed to kiss away. His hands traveled to your hips when he leaned down to kiss you. Different from the rushed exchange you shared earlier, this was passionate and detailed, filled with everything you were feeling but couldn’t say to one another.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing your body closer to his when he pushed you against the glass wall of your shower. You felt yourself becoming quickly aroused once again, moaning out into his mouth.

“Hoseok please…” you whined, hoping he would understand what you wanted. And he did.

Not long after, you felt him lifting your leg off the floor to hook it around his waist, holding it there while his other hand was on your hip, pressing you against the glass. You reached down, stroking his half hard cock in your hand while kissing and sucking down his wet neck. He let out small moans directly in your ear, turning you on even more.

Once he was fully hard, he directed you to push him inside of you. You both let out a moan at the feeling. You were happy to be filled up again, while he was just happy to have you with him. He was taking his time with you this time, slowly pulling out and pushing back in, allowing you to feel everything. It was the exact opposite of what you two had done less than twenty minutes ago.

Hoseok grinded his hips up into you slowly, and with purpose. Every stroke only served to bring you closer to your impending orgasm. Going at a slower pace allowed Hoseok to really feel everything, including the tight grip your pussy had on his dick that damn near had him crying out. It was almost hard to move inside of you but it felt so good, the pleasure causing him to close his eyes.

You on the other hand couldn’t help but stare at him. He felt so good inside of you, it was hard to control yourself when you raked your fingers down his back, leaving red marks while he hissed. The water cascading down onto the both of you only added to your pleasure as it occasionally hit your more than swollen clit. It was getting so hot in there that you felt like you could barely breathe.

“Hose- ugh.. Baby I’m gonna cum soon.”

“Are you? Is my little baby going to cum all over my cock again? Hmm,” he began to stroke all over your body before his hand ultimately found its way to your clit again.

“Yes, ugh all over your cock. I’m gonna soak it…. My god you fuck me so good.”

Suddenly, he removed the hand that was holding up your leg and let it travel to hold your neck from behind, forcing the eye contact.

“Do it baby, cum on me. I wanna feel your juices spill all over me.”

His words, his thrusts, his fingers, they were all affecting you in ways you would never be able to explain. When he changed the angle of his hips, he found the spot that would ruin you and repeatedly pushed into it.

You cried out his name when your back arched from the wall and you began convulsing on his dick again. Everything about this orgasm just seemed to be way better than the first time. Your legs were shaking uncontrollably, so he lifted both of them off the floor and wrapped them around his waist so he could continue to fuck you through it. When you finally came down from your high, you noticed his intense stare and looked back at him with the same intensity.

You tightened around his cock unexpectedly, pushing him closer to his orgasm once more. His grip on your thighs tightened as his grunts and groans became louder. With a few more quick thrusts, he came inside of you, pushing himself deeper and holding you to the wall with his body. His head fell onto your shoulder as he tried to catch his breath after his orgasm, and it didn’t help that the shower was hot and now completely stuffy.

When you were both feeling stable again, he let you back down to the floor and kissed you.

“I love you y/n,” and you lightly smiled into the kiss before breaking away.

“I love you too.”

He carried you out of the shower and back to bed, where he continued to fuck you into the early hours of the morning. It was like you couldn’t get enough of each other, but you had to call it quits at some point before your bodies gave out due to exhaustion.

And as you laid on your backs, side to side and staring at the ceiling, your thoughts clouded your mind. They were the same thoughts that had been crossing your mind for a while; thoughts you had more frequently than you ever would’ve liked. And after tonight, even though you were scared to say them out loud, they were thoughts you could no longer ignore.

“Hoseok?”

“Yes y/n?”

“We need to break up,” you whispered just loud enough for him to hear before you drifted off to sleep.

––––––

A week later, there were boxes all over your apartment. At first they were empty, then they were filled with all of his stuff, and then they were gone. And so was he.

You knew he was willing to work it out. But you didn’t truly know if you were or if really wanted to. And so as you were sitting on your couch, you were left to contemplate whether you had made your best decision yet, or your worst mistake.

[himbo-buckley]

I agree "originally part of it was put into the show to incorporate Eddie into the team better by giving him a special connection to one other main character" cause season 2 buddie yeah friends then flirty but season 3 buddie completely different theres more romantic undertones and obviously eddie begins. Why continue to develop their special connection now eddie is firmly in the team (why not give us more eddie/chimn and hen/buck etc) unless there is a goal.

Hello friend! 🥰

Okay, you know what? Because I love 911 too much and my brain keeps screaming queerbaiting and I hate that for me, so if you’re down let’s try figuring it out together?

So we already agree that the intial Buddie - while a lot flirtier than planned probably because CHEMISTRY - was due to connecting Eddie to the team and with that the viewers, right?

By getting Buck to care about him, they got us to care about him

So that was what happened in Season 2, now let’s look at Season 3:

First off, they turned them into best friends in Season 2 and considering they already broke up Buck/Ali they needed him having a strong relationship with someone else, right?

And 3a as I have pointed out several times before is when these boys hit rock bottom but obviously they couldn’t start out with them at rock bottom, they again needed the viewer to really care about that storyline so they needed to show it

And sure, Buck is technically triggered by Bobby but also Eddie plays into right? Considering the Lena thing in 3.04 (see, they tried to give Eddie someone else to care about!)

And I think I don’t need to repeat again that I think the lawsuit was what ultimately made Eddie go completely off the rails, right?

Now the romantic undertones, well, we really needed to care about their relationship to really feel the betrayal and the hurt on both sides! So romantic undertones it is!

And then of course neither have love interests so we have screentime and exposition about their private lifes to happen and while Buck can always have that with Maddie too (3.16) Eddie doesn’t have that but hey, we can just keep putting Eddie and Buck together that way BOTH have an ark outside the firefighting! Good job, writers!!!

So that explains 3a

And then of course, the rest of the Season and the Season in general, I mean, first of all most of the storylines Buddie had wouldn’t have made sense with Eddie / Chim or Eddie / without them establishing these relationships more which is screentime they might not have - or at the very least they don’t need to invest since they already have a relationship that works right there

(Also going back to 3a, it’s a sort of reserve to 2a because now Eddie keeps Buck connected to the team)

And also I mean, I love Hen and Buck but would the grocery store scene have worked with them? Nope, it wouldn’t because Hen didn’t loose enough with Buck gone to be believable here

But I do think with Buck they at least tried to do the separating thing considering they could have used Eddie in 3.16 but they didn’t, they used Maddie?

Now, as for Eddie and Buck in 3.15 and Eddie in 3b in general, well, they obviously also tried to establish Eddie and Chim a bit more but again, Buddie was already a thing so these scenes between them were believeable cause we are already used to them like this?

And also we already have the shippers and imagine how we would have reacted if they tried to seperate Buddie to abruptly after 3a we would have rioted

I mean, part of it is still that they need to connect Eddie emotionally to the team and they neglected connecting him with everyone aside from Buck a little in favour of doing storylines like the car accident and the street fighting and whatever Maddie’s 3a ark was and how Chim played into that

Part of it is that they sort of wrote themselves into a corner with Buddie because they needed them having these deep feelings for each other for 3a to work but now they cannot just remove that relationship without us rioting and also destroing the storylines and characters a little?

So maybe that’s it? It was all sort of an accident except now they are backed into the hall and the only way to go is forward (Buddie) or backwards (whatever Jeff Davis and Sera Gamble did respectively) and Tim needs to figure out who he wants to be and fast or his show will be ruined and I mean that both as a Buddie shipper and as a lover of the show in general because no show ever really benefited from keeping a relationship ambiguous for too long!

Anyways, I hope all of what I wrote here makes sense to you and in general but friend, your ask just inspired me to try and play devil’s advocat 🙈🙈🙈