#Or would this be more canon Dale as in this is where he slowly gives up his tech mogul life

[scrumptiousfanbasement]

Projecting my interests on shitty men

[i-did-not-mean-to]

For the Bingo, what about “jumping into the other’s arms” with Ori and any character (oc or canon, I don’t care!) you deem worthy of our favorite soft boy? 💜💜💜

Ohoooooo this one...

(based on a ludicrous dream I had)

Cop-out story where the prompt is not very prominent, but hey, it's a very self-indulgent piece hahaha...

Hobbit (for once in-universe)

Characters : Ori x OC

Words: 4,1 k (sorry)

Here, have some art by Vilho on Twitter <3

Thursdays

Jina was not in the least interested in tramping all the way up to Erebor, but Bard had asked her to be one of the people who went to present the newly crowned king – Thorin II – with gifts to celebrate his recovery.

Ever since relocating from Laketown to Dale, Jina had taken it upon herself to bring some much-needed education into the dilapidated settlement that was only slowly taking form.

Hence why her father and her had ordered as many books as they could afford that they partially sold and partially loaned out to willing souls. It was the work of lifetime and Jina invested more than just her time into that enterprise.

Nonetheless, today was a Thursday and – on Thursdays – her favourite client usually came in; Jina was loath to miss him but her duty to the community took precedence - unfortunately.

The first time she had seen him, she had been alone in the small shack from which they did their business, occupied with unpacking the latest crate of books.

Someone had cleared their throat and she had whirled around – surprised and startled – to see a hooded figure that might have been that of a child if it hadn’t been for the solid stature.

“Good evening, Mistress,” a quiet, melodic voice had said, “I have come to offer a trade.”

A sturdy, ink-stained hand had placed a pot of the blackest ink she had ever seen onto the counter.

“I make this myself and I’ve wondered if you would like to trade it against the beautiful goose feathers I know you have.”

Jina had swallowed thickly upon realising that this creature must have been one of the fabled dwarves said to live deep under the dark mountain; even though she had heard about the wonderful exploits of one brazen prince, she had – to that day – never really seen a dwarf in the flesh.

The geese her mother kept, along with other unholy birds Jina feared and spoiled in equal measures, would indeed be perfect for this purpose.

“If we kill one, I shall reserve the feathers for you, Master Dwarf,” she had assented in a warm tone, curious as to why he had been so unwilling to reveal his face to her.

From that day on, he had come in regularly, borrowing books and trading her other small objects linked to books and bookbinding.

Even though she had never seen his face, she was constantly looking forward to those visits as they were somewhat exotic and out of the ordinary for her.

“Excited to see the dwarves?” one of her fellow travellers asked her breathlessly.

Jina had not told anyone outside of her immediate family about the mysterious stranger and – for some reason – she was still fiercely protective of that secret.

In her heart, she might have been a tiny bit afraid that seeing a good many of those fantastical creatures would somehow sully her perfect, personal miracle which only slowed her steps further.

Another thought – nervous and thrumming like a bowstring – dug its way through her hazy mind: she might find her nameless friend. She had no idea how big Erebor was and how many dwarves even lived there, but – against all hope and logic – she had that ridiculous hope that she might ferret out her very own dwarf and give him a gift of his own.

Ila, her beautiful sister, had brought home a dying swan and – after its inevitable demise – Jina had plucked the primary feathers, dried and treated them, and put them in a nice wrapping for her friend.

“Yes,” she replied after the man walking next to her jabbed his bony elbow into her ribs rather violently to prompt an answer; yes, indeed, she was curious – as she was wont to be – and apprehensive at the same time.

“Bard,” a figure stepped out, preceded by his booming voice that streamed in the cold air like a banner before dissolving.

The dark beard and the broad shoulders made Jina believe that he might be a man, but she had read somewhere that one could not necessarily tell dwarves apart by the usual markers of mankind.

“Thorin,” Bard smiled at the stiff figure and bowed slightly.

So that was the king, Thorin II – Thorin the undying, Thorin the invincible, Thorin the rather short – that last one having been added by Jina herself as she walked up slowly and realised that the mighty, grand king of the dwarves was roughly her own height.

They were greeted coldly but politely by a king who – very evidently – loathed the mere idea of them trudging around in his kingdom. This was a political ploy then, Jina thought to herself, holding the leatherbound book she had made for the king in her trembling hands.

“Thank you, Mistress,” the king gave her an approximate smile when it was time for her to hand her gift to him: a tome filled with well-wishes and local legends so he may know his neighbours a little better.

“Your Majesty,” she curtsied and walked away backwards, only to bump into solid rock.

Only, it was not a pillar or a wall; no, the unyielding surface at her back was warm and vibrating with…laughter.

“Good evening, Mistress,” a voice trilling with amusement breathed.

Jina turned around to face two younger men – no, dwarves, she corrected herself – who grinned at her broadly.

“Don’t let Uncle intimidate you; he’s a grumpy fellow but he has a good heart,” a dark-haired imp smiled and led her away and down a corridor with easy grace.

“Where are you taking me?” Fear was creeping up her throat now; was she to be abducted and incarcerated to be tortured for sport? Would she end up in dark mines and never see the light of day again?

“Do not fret, we mean you no harm,” the other one – as blindingly bright as his counterpart was dark – spoke gently, “we just wanted to check if you were up for some fun.”

“It’s her,” Kíli had stage-whispered as soon as he saw the young woman step up to their stiff-backed, thin-lipped, stormy-browed uncle, “it must be her!”

“It is her, Kí,” Fíli had agreed, “let’s get her!”

For weeks now, their cousin and friend has scurried away to Dale once a week, taking down the most inane and worthless knickknacks that he – apparently – traded for equally frivolous trinkets.

All they knew was that he went to a prospective ‘bookshop’ and the heat in Ori’s cheeks told them that there was a lot the tight-lipped weasel was not telling them.

This evening was their chance to get their paws on the woman herself and see how she felt about the whole thing.

“Have you ever met a dwarf?” Kíli – hardly a dwarf of exceptional sensibility and discretion even on his best days – asked Jina as soon as they had rounded the corner.

“I might have,” Jina replied cautiously; she knew not how secret her friend had kept his visits to her shop and if she was even allowed to see them. Maybe that had been the reason for the heavy hood and cloak?

“Oh, is that so?” Kíli grinned at her widely, seemingly – at least that was what it looked like to Jina – trying to hypnotise her into telling him everything she knew by the twinkling of his beautiful eyes.

“Listen, are you a betting woman?” Fíli – foolhardy and adventurous by nature – interjected randomly, taking Jina quite by surprise.

“No,” Jina said slowly, “usually, I am not…Is this a trap? Are you somehow magical?”

Both sniggered and snorted at her naïve question but didn’t deny having supernatural powers.

“What is it that you desire, woman?” Fíli asked – in his best imitation of his uncle’ voice – knocking his brother upside the head when he didn’t stop laughing at the rather poor result.

“There is a…person I seek,” Jina admitted shyly, “and I thought I might find them here?”

Kíli’s eyes lit up with a fire such as Jina had never seen before.

“Ask and you shall be given,” he thundered – this time, making Fíli burst out laughing – and went on, “if you manage to charm…a kiss out of a dwarf we point out to you, we – in turn – shall find that person you seek if they are inside the mountain.”

“A kiss?” Jina was horrified; she had never even met any of the people present tonight, how in the name of the stars was she supposed to get one of them to kiss her?

“Him,” Fíli pointed at a youngish dwarf standing by the fireplace with a frighteningly muscular, bald creature, “that’s my kinsman. He’s a really sweet soul; you should have no problems getting him to kiss you.”

“ORI!” Kíli screamed across the room.

The dwarf turned around almost instantly, freezing in his movement as he saw Jina – her elbow firmly clasped in Fíli’s broad hand – come towards him with a shy smile on her face.

“Mistress…” Kíli bit his lip, “oh Mahal, I have not even introduced myself…or asked for your name. Quick before Thorin or Amad notice.”

He bowed very low, pressing Fíli down with him as he moved.

“Kíli,” he said, “Fíli,” he added, pointing at the other troublemaker.

“Fí is my older brother; he was a rough sketch of the glory mother would achieve with me,” Kíli laughed and winked at Jina who tried not to react one way or another for fear of offending anyone.

“And here we have Dwalin, captain of the guard, and Ori, scribe.”

“Jina,” she muttered, staring up in awe and terror at the one named Dwalin.

“Dwalin, by Mahal’s swinging beard, don’t look at her like you’re about to devour her whole. She already thought we were mighty magicians,” Kíli chortled.

Mischievous imps, Jina corrected him in her thoughts, wicked fairies rather than worrisome wizards, but she didn’t want to curb his enthusiasm.

“Ne’er seen a dwarf, lass?” Dwalin cocked his shiny, heavily tattooed head questioningly; there was an amused glint in his eyes and his moustache seemed to twitch.

“Not really, Master Dwarf, at least…not that I’d know,” Jina stammered, feeling her knees go weak and thanking her lucky stars for Fíli’s fingers – steadying and warm – around her arm.

Just as she wanted to engage the other – indescribably charming – stranger in a conversation, dinner was announced, and everyone joined in a noisy stampede towards the tables.

She did not know who was chased away and how it was done, but the two dwarves who had captured her were at least helpful and arranged for her to sit right next to the chosen victim of their silly bet.

He was beautiful in a way so delicate she would never have believed it possible in one of his race; his hair was the colour of autumn leaves and molten metal over glowing braziers and his eyes were deep and warm like the summer nights.

“Good evening, Master Dwarf,” she greeted.

“Ori, please,” he reached over a hand that looked oddly familiar and when she took it, she knew.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” she gasped.

“Me? Who is me? What is me?” he stammered, blushing furiously under her intense gaze.

“Lass, Ori is over a hundred years old, he’ll be there when you turn back around which I cannot guarantee for this roast,” Dwalin – sitting on her other side – grumbled as he nudged her with a heavy platter.

She took it from him and handed it over to Ori without taking anything off it.

“The mysterious Thursday visitor…” she whispered, suddenly unsure of herself.

“Oh…yes, that’s me…” he nodded, holding the platter out to her until she took a slice of meat and let it slap onto her plate with a muted, wet sound.

She had been betrayed; she had been taken for a fool by those two…rascals!

They had known, of course they had, maybe they had consciously chosen him to be the co-victim of their strange understanding of a prank for that exact reason even.

“Hello, my name is Ori,” the dwarf beside her let the whole roast clatter onto the plate of his respective neighbour to reach out a courteous hand to her again, “I was not sure how you’d react to having a dwarf in your shop…Thorin has not behaved admirably across the board…”

Ah, she had heard of that as well. The uncrowned king had made vague promises that some people had understood to be assurances of cold, hard pecuniary reparations; these people were – no surprise there – horrified to find that the now crowned king actually expected them to do their work in exchange for remuneration.

“Well, we are neighbours?” she grinned, taking a big bite of the delicious dinner someone with a good understanding of spices had prepared for this rather underwhelming occasion.

“Yes…”

“Oh, I have something for you,” she exclaimed, by now completely disregarding the fact that the others at the table found her manners appalling.

At least Dwalin seemed amused by her antics as the corners of his stern mouth didn’t stop twitching as he was watching her fret and fuss with her bag until she managed to dislodge an oblong package.

“I was sad to think that I’d miss your weekly visit and I had hoped that – if not you – I might find someone who knows about my visitor and who might be willing to hand this over for me.”

She set the light bundle into his outstretched hands and smiled when he let a soft gasp whoosh out between his pale lips upon discovering the pristine white feathers about to be turned into quills.

“Oh, Mistress,” he sighed, “how will I ever be able to repay you?”

His eyes wandered down the table to a sturdy, seemingly older dwarf with intricate steel-grey braids whose eyebrows rose inquisitively as he caught sight of the kingly gift.

“My brother would never forgive me if I took advantage of this kind of generosity…Maybe, I can copy a few books from our library so you can use them in yours?”

“From your library?” Jina was all ears immediately; of course, the dwarf had been introduced as a ‘scribe’ and it made sense seen as he had asked for quills and produced his own ink.

Wherever they had scribes, it naturally followed that there must exist a library.

“Hmmm, yes, if you want, I’ll show it to you later,” Ori murmured, his voice growing progressively quieter as if he was not entirely sure of what he was pitching and why.

“I’d love that, but are you allowed to show a woman – a mere human woman, I mean – around the sacred halls of your forefathers?”

“I was involved in the conquest of said sacred halls, so I’d really rather hope that nobody will oppose me,” he replied with a flash of fight in his eyes that struck her as unexpected in someone so mellow.

“I’d love to hear about the quest and maybe, are there books about dwarves?”

He frowned.

“There are many books about dwarves, what dwarf do you want to know about specifically?”

You, Jina thought, but she knew better than to say those words out loud.

“I meant in general,” she giggled, “about dwarven customs, cultures, and anatomy.”

“What is that?” Dwalin barked, shoving a white-haired doter at his side hard enough that Jina would have flown out of her chair if he had done it to her, “listen here, Balin, the lass just asked poor Ori about dwarven anatomy.”

“Don’t let Nori hear you, he’d show you more than you ever cared to know,” the old dwarf chuckled, leaning forward and nearly dipping his long beard into his plate.

They were a strange and funny people, Jina had to admit, and she had already grown rather fond of their easy even if slightly unusual manner.

“Hush,” Ori gasped, his cheeks flaming red with embarrassment, “let’s not bring Nori – or Dori for that matter – into this.”

“How is it going?” Kíli craned his neck but could not understand what the whole commotion was about; he really hoped that Ori was proving to be his genial self with the young woman.

Kí was of the opinion that he had a tiny crush on the pretty lady, and – being a sucker for a good love story – he wanted to help as much as he could.

His mother always said that he wrecked more than he built, but he would prove her wrong eventually.

“I think they’re talking about lobotomies,” Óin huffed, visibly vexed that nobody had called upon him and his medical expertise on the subject.

“I do not think that they are,” Kíli replied screwing his eyes shut in an effort to make out the words at the far end of the table better. It was highly improbable that Mistress Gina would ask Ori about advanced brain surgery.

“Am I sitting closer, or are you?” Óin muttered.

Kíli didn’t have the heart to remind the old boy of the fact that he was almost completely deaf and hence not an authority on the matter of dinner conversation.

“Pst, Dwalin, Dwalin,” Kíli called softly, proceeding to pelt his uncle’s best friend with pieces of bread to attract his attention.

When the eyes – thunderclouds of annoyance and anger swirling in them – of the other dwarf came to rest on him, he simply put up one thumb and raised his eyebrows in a silent question.

Dwalin shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“We need to give them a shove,” Kíli whispered to himself, but Dwalin nodded as if he had read his lips…or his mind.

“So…do you want to see the library?”

Jina looked up from her still half-full plate; she did not understand how these people could eat so much in so little time. She – herself – felt full enough to fast for another week and yet, it looked as if she had barely touched her food.

“Oh yes,” she exclaimed joyfully, “as I said, it would be an honour.”

Ori shuffled to his feet, gripping her chair but not moving it.

Jina sat – the warmth of his fingers bleeding through the thin fabric of her sister’s best dress – and waited for him to either let go of the back of the chair or to pull it out for her.

“Either or, Ori…” Fíli whispered in passing, giving Jina a cheeky wink.

Finally, Ori tugged a tiny bit at the chair and Jina moved in time with it to stand on her feet and turn to him.

“What a waste,” she thought aloud, a breathy sigh intermingling with the steam of roast and the heat of living bodies.

“What?” Ori asked as he led the way out of the dining hall with assured and calm steps.

“Oh?” Jina had not been aware that he had heard her inane rambling, “I just thought what a shame it is that I’ve never seen your face before today.”

“My…face?” Ori swung around, presenting the self-same pale face to her as for inspection.

Yes, Jina thought to herself, that was a face she would have looked forward to seeing every week; she felt almost cheated looking back on all the missed opportunities.

Nodding, she waited for him to go on; in many a way, she had been waiting for him for longer than she had been aware of.

Jina was nothing if not a patient woman, and it gave her pleasure and relief to know that – in this short, stout creature – she had found the answer to her questions and a challenge she had not known she had been seeking.

The library turned out to be draughty, dreary, and utterly delightful. Despite the violent shiver chasing spasms through her whole body, Jina felt elated to be in this surreptitious place with her very own secret; it felt very much like a cloak-and-dagger story.

Jina loved those almost as much as Kíli enjoyed a good romance.

“I do not know…” Ori muttered as he walked through the aisles, his surprisingly long fingers brushing along the backs of the tomes until he found what he had been looking for.

“This is a medical tome, maybe it holds the answers to your question,” he said while handing her the book, “what – by the way – is your question?”

Jina was not entirely sure what to reply to that.

“Are you really made of stone? Are your bodies like ours? Is your skin really impossible to penetrate? Do you eat babies?”

She went through all the stories and fables she had been told as a child, naïvely, before realising that she might well have been offending him.

“No; I don’t know because I don’t know what your body is like; no, unfortunately our skin is very normal; no, I’ve never seen anyone eat a baby,” Ori replied very seriously.

Jina leafed through the book; at first sight, most of what she overflew sounded very similar to what she knew to be true for mankind.

“Kíli swears that we’re warmer than your kind,” Ori added, “Fíli claims we’re a little rougher too.”

In a spontaneous flash of foolish bravery, Jina took his hand and held it in hers. It was the third time in one night and she was aware of it, but – for some reason – she felt like she deserved to get all the innocent touches and smiles he had withheld from her all those weeks.

And she didn’t mind claiming what she was owed brazenly and all at once; even patience had its time and place…and this was not it.

That hand was warm and broad, solid, sturdy, but his skin felt soft and inviting against her own palm growing increasingly moister by the second.

The kiss she was supposed to give him came back to her mind, and she flinched back.

“That bad?” Ori cocked his head and lifted his hand to his eyes, searching for the dart or the flaw that had made her pull away as if from a poisonous thorn.

“No, no…” Jina didn’t know if she should tell him about the stupid bet she had agreed to – not knowing that she had been cheated and betrayed – or if she should just not do it and slink back to Dale without ever talking to Kíli and Fíli again.

She did neither, just staring blankly at the dwarf in front of her until the tension became unbearable and she was literally driven up the wall by the nervous energy buzzing in her blood.

“This is going too slow,” Kíli made a face at his brother and Dwalin.

They had snuck into the library through another door and stood pressed against a bookcase like school boys eavesdropping on what was none of their business.

“Maybe we could…” Kíli’s words were interrupted when they saw Jina climb up one of the more temperamental of the ladders which promptly started swaying dangerously.

With 3 steps, Dwalin was underneath the ladder and barked: “Let go, lass!”

Doing as she was told, Jina let go of the slippery wood and fell into the solid arms of the fearsome half-bald dwarf who had been her neighbour at dinner.

“Ori…CATCH!”

And just like that, that monster of a dwarf threw her across the room right into another pair of arms.

“Erm sorry,” Ori smiled awkwardly and proceeded to let her down again, but she found that he – indeed – was warmer than other people she had met, and the cold of the library had started sinking into her bones.

So, as this was a forbidden and utterly ludicrous evening, she jumped back into his arms and snuggled closer to the welcome heat radiating from him.

“Alright then,” Ori chuckled, holding her up with one arm and picking up the book she had put down in order to cradle his hand in hers as if it was made of precious crystal.

He carried her over to a small sitting area and handed the tome back to her.

“Oh, Jina? Here’s your mystery visitor as well, if you hadn’t figured that out already,” Kíli hooted, exchanged one look with his brother and declared: "We won’t let this count. I guess you’ll have to take the L and live with it.”

“The L?” Jina frowned in confusion.

“The loss,” Fíli explained, “but also, with an L, you’ll be Ori-Jina-L!”

Jina wondered if she would achieve that kiss after all, but she decided that – even if – those two deserved to not be informed of it as a punishment for their perfidious attempt to trick her and for their sincerely horrible sense of humour.

The night was young still and there was definitely room for improvement.

Woooo, you've made it to the end...

Love you <3

[timeladyjamie]

The Trials and Tribulations of Love - Chapter 1: The Awakening

AUTHOR’S NOTE on Feb 5th, 2021: Hey, welcome to my story which is a product of love and my longest written story to date (and still ongoing). While I’ve posted this on other sites like A03, Wattpad and FanficNet, I’ve decided to share it here on Tumblr as well. I hope you enjoy my crazy wild ride of passion. You can always check out more about my story and the characters on @katherineofknighton​ which is the blog for the story. 

DETAILS ABOUT THE STORY: Guy of Gisborne is after her because she is the former sheriff’s daughter, and Katherine of Knighton is giving him the time of day at her sister’s request. They didn’t expect to develop genuine feelings for each other, but they have. How will this affect Katherine’s relationship with her sister and Marian's relationship with Robin Hood?Follows Seasons 1,2 & 3 with twists before going Canon Divergent.

Pairing: Guy of Gisborne/Original Female Character & Robin Hood/Marian of Knighton

CHAPTERS: Two || Three || Four

Word Count: 1,791

CHAPTER 1 - The Awakening

1192

Robin of Locksley and Much had just returned back home from the Crusades in the Holy Land. Things had changed since they left five years ago, and the men were just finding out how much it had. They went to visit the former sheriff and his daughters, Marian and Katherine.

Marian was betrothed to him before he left for the crusades. Despite starting out as nothing more but an arrangement, the couple's feelings began to grow for each other. Katherine had watched it blossom day in and day out. Katherine wasn’t very fond of the Locksley boy, but could see how much her sister cared for him. Even now when she was acting cold towards him for leaving her behind to fight in the wars.

“I can’t believe the nerve of him!” Marian huffed, “Showing up here after five years thinking he can just flash that smile and I’ll give in. Especially after leaving me waiting on him.”

Katherine sipped from her cup. “But you’re glad to see him again, are you not?”

Marian briefly smiled before trying to hide it. “No.”

Katherine just glanced at her father, both sharing a knowing look, before looking back to Marian. “Sure. Whatever you say.” She knew better. It was obvious to see Marian still had feelings for Robin, even if she was still hurt by him leaving.

“He will be at tonight’s feast.” Edward informed.

“Really?” asked Katherine. “He looked like he was pretty much against it in today’s meeting with the Sheriff.”

Marian cleared her throat. “He has reclaimed his lands once again. As Lord of Locksley he must attend, just as we must do the same.”

Katherine noticed the smile on her sister’s face returning once more. “I’ve never seen you so excited for one of the sheriff’s parties before.I think I know the reason why.” she teased.

Marian gave her sister a look, causing a chuckle from their father.

___________________________________________________________

NOTTINGHAM CASTLE

Arriving at the castle, the sister’s were linked in arms as they spoke to each other. Coming upon the dining hall, the girls quickly spotted Robin. Marian began to make her way towards him, but was stopped. “Marian.” It was Sir Guy of Gisborne, the Sheriff's right hand man. “Might I have the pleasure of your company?” he asked.

She looked shocked, not quite sure what to do before glancing at Robin and then her sister. “I believe my sister, Katherine, would enjoy the pleasure of your company.”

Katherine looked wide eyed at her sister before smiling at the black knight. “It would be an honor, Sir Guy.” Just as she linked arms with him, Guy gave a smug smirk to Robin and Katherine narrowed her eyes at her sister, recalling the familiar way she had volunteered Marian to be betrothed to Robin instead.

Sitting down next to Guy at the table, Katherine watched as her sister and Robin interacted with each other. Something seemed to worry him deeply, but she didn’t pay too much attention to it. Marian would take care of it.

“Is your sister and he...?” Guy asked, indicating a betrothal.

Katherine shook her head. “They were. Not anymore.” She let out a sigh, feeling that insecure feeling eating away at her again.

Of course he was attracted to Marian. Even if they were twins, Katherine had always felt the lesser of the both of them. She supposed it was because of her own doing, or maybe it all began when she started seeing her sister getting closer to the Locksley boy which resulted in  spending less time with her.

Despite the insecurity she began to feel with her sister and the dislike she had for Robin, she still cared for Marian deeply. They would always be there to support each other - even when it came to the company of men.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice the way the Sheriff's deputy was looking at her - as if trying to read her. He could tell she was bothered by his question. “And what about you, my lady?”

“It is just me. I live with my sister and father of course.” Katherine replied, picking from the feast in front of them. She avoided eye contact with him. It was uncomfortable having all the questions on herself and her sister. With the current company she was in, Katherine knew she would have to choose her words wisely and play by the game.

There was an awkward silence between them before she decided to change the subject. “I’ve told you some things about me, now what about you, Sir Guy?” she finally looked into his blue eyes, giving a warm smile. “Tell me about yourself.”

He was surprised, being taken off guard slightly by her sudden interest in him. Guy licked his lips, trying to find something to say. “I’m the Sheriff’s deputy.”

Katherine giggled after sipping some wine. “And the best one I know if I must say. The sheriff is lucky to have you by his side.” If there was anything that pleased men, it was having their ego’s stroked.

As expected, there was a brief smirk on his face before it became serious again. “Thank you, my Lady.”

“There must be more to you than just being the Sheriff’s second-in-command. What about your family?” Katherine asked.

This seemed to be a wrong step as she watched the look on his face harden. But yet, his eyes seemed to show something different. Was that a sign of vulnerability? He looked cold and rough, but his eyes showed the truth underneath his facade.

“It is just me.” He replied, echoing her earlier words. “I-I lost my family long ago.”

Katherine knew that she had to carefully tiptoe around this dangerous area she had found herself in. She almost wanted to provide him comfort, reach out her hand towards his, but wasn’t sure if that would be the right move. Instead, she offered words of comfort. “I believe they would be proud to know the Gisborne name still lives in you.”

He nodded, once again surprised by her kindness. If only she knew the truth of all the terrible things he had done in order to get where he is now. Everything he had done to keep the name of Gisborne as one with respect and honor. Would she still be so kind to him?

“I suppose it is my turn again.” Katherine chuckled, wondering what she could tell him.

Her thought process was interrupted by the sheriff calling attention to everyone. Katherine looked up to see her sister and Robin were no longer in the room. She felt a bubble of worry before focusing her attention to the sheriff.

_______________________________________________________

KNIGHTON HALL

Once returning back to Knighton Hall after the banquet, the sisters and their father were surprised by a knock at their door. They quickly let Robin and Much inside before the sheriff’s men saw them. Sitting around the fireplace, the company began to speak with each other. “Forgive me, I could not welcome you before.” Edward said.

“How did this monster become sheriff?” Robin asked.

“I did not watch my back.” Marian and Katherine looked to each other sadly, standing beside their father as he spoke. “Prince John gives out the shire in his brother's absence. My bid was not accepted.”

“What can be done?”

“I can do nothing. I’m watched, and I must think of my daughters. When I do speak out, no one listens. Robin, it is down to you my friend.”

“What can we do?” Much asked.

“Play Nottingham’s game. Speak to the lord’s. Slowly you can turn them. Do not make the same mistake I and others have made and make your decent public. Consolidate your position quietly.”

Robin sighed. “I do not have time. Tomorrow I’m told of the hanging of four of my peasants.”

Edward equally sighed back. “It will be the long game I’m afraid.”

“Will and Luke Scarlett cannot wait. Benedict Gallons, Allan-A-Dale-”

Finding it hard to hold back any longer, Marian began to speak. “You must let them die. It is a test. Fail it, and there will be consequences.”

“Perhaps.”

“Definitely. This is not a game.”

Both Edward and Katherine stopped her. “My daughter speaks when she should not. But she is right, you have no choice, Robin. Hide your temper and bide your time until you can act decisively...or kiss your lands if not your life, goodbye.”

Katherine could see the troubled look on his face and she thought for the first time in her life, she actually felt sorry for him. Even if she didn’t like him, there was no denying she held sympathy for him.

He didn’t deserve this. And Katherine knew she would be hearing all about it from Marian once the men left.

____________________________________________________________

“I think he’s going to do something rash.” Marian said, sitting on her bed in the room the sisters shared. “I just have this feeling.”

Katherine was changing into her nightgown, a smirk on her face. “Is it because of the connection you both share?”

A pillow went flying to her face. “As if. He is just a fool.”

This prompted a chuckle from her sister. “You’re right about that.”

It was silent for a bit as the sisters got into their beds and thought over the events of the day. Marian thought about Robin’s return and the danger he would possibly be in as Katherine thought about her sister with worry and the time she had spent with Sir Guy.

Being reminded of that, her brown eyes suddenly narrowed at her sister’s blue ones, getting her attention. “What?” Marian asked.

“I still haven’t forgotten what you did to me at dinner, offering me up to Sir Guy as I did with you to Robin.”

She rolled her eyes. “What was I to do? He wanted company and I thought you could handle it. Besides, it’s payback for doing the same to me back then.” Marian smirked.

This caused Katherine to jolt up, laying on her elbow. “When father announced that he was thinking of having one of us betrothed to Robin, I thought you would be able to handle him better. Was I wrong in thinking so?”

Marian chuckled. “No, you were not wrong.”

“Besides, I’ve never really liked him.” Katherine gave an annoyed look.

“And why is that?” asked Marian, sitting up in her bed.

Was it the smug smile that would be on his face every time he looked at her? Maybe his dry sense of humor which didn’t appeal to her? Or maybe, just maybe, because of the fact that every time he looked at Marian, there was no denying that spark in his eyes.

The look of absolute joy and love she could only imagine someone would feel once they found the one: The person who was made for them.

Katherine knew right away that person wasn’t her, and she didn’t mind. At least not until all Marian would talk about was Robin or when he started joining them in the activities they would do.

It made the feeling of not belonging grow more and more. All she had known was her place by her sister and father’s side. And now, with Robin coming into the picture, Katherine had begun to question where she belonged. And then Robin ended up leaving for the crusades, leaving Marian in a state of worry and despair. It was hard watching her sister’s heartbreak day in and day out, waiting for the return of the man she loved, but he hadn’t come back.

“Katherine?” Marian asked, causing her sister to break free from her thoughts.

“Because he is who he is. And because he hurt you when he left.” Katherine answered, reaching out to take her sister’s hand in hers. “But since he is your fool, I will help support you, even when you try to hide your feelings for him.”

She gasped, letting go of her hands. This caused Katherine to chuckle before Marian started joining in.

“How dare you.”

“No, how dare you.”

It was silent for a bit before they spoke again. “How did it go with Sir Guy?” Marian asked. “I didn’t stay long, but it looked as if the both of you were getting along well.”

Katherine shrugged, not thinking too much about it. “We spent the time asking each other questions about the other and then enjoyed the feast. Nothing more.”

“So, no thoughts or opinions on what kind of person he is?”

She looked confused. “Should there be? Besides working for the sheriff and doing his dirty work, there isn’t much else to say. I was only getting to know him thanks to you.” Katherine reminded her sister sharply. But yet, she began to recall that brief glimpse of vulnerability from him, that look that made her want to reach out and comfort him. She had never expected such a side from him of all people.

“Very well.” Marian said, laying back down on her bed.

Katherine followed suit. “Good night, sister.”

“Good night, sister.”

Marian blew the candle out.

[rustandruin]

Can you just drop Robert's return and Robrons reunion out into the universe now please?? You seem to have......ways of predicting future canon. Please make it so!

Hey Anon!

This is very sweet of you, but I think the instances you’re referring to were just really me giving Robert and Aaron my own personal interests because I thought they fit well! (So please approach this with multiple grains of salt scattered liberally over your shoulder.) 

That said, I think a really cool way to bring Robert back would be with everyday soap logic. Something happens so he’s released for good behaviour or something within the next few. Now what? He’s given up Aaron (and Liv and Seb), the only thing that really mattered to him, so he’s unmoored. He tries to live an Aaron-less life, settle down in Leeds, get a job in some marketing firm doing the accounts, starts small again, etc. (I like to think he somehow reads and studies a lot while he’s away in fancy white-collar prison, but I digress.)

For the most part, he’s doing fine. Only October 5th hits and it’s his and Aaron’s fifth anniversary. He goes to a bar after work because he’s a bit maudlin and maybe gets hit on by a cute bartender, but turns them down because he really meant what he said to Aaron all those years ago. It’s him. It’ll always be him. He doesn’t want anyone else. Five years in prison and all he can think about is how good Aaron looked on a suit on the day he officially made him his husband. 

And because he’s full of booze by a certain hour and getting quite sentimental, he does what any emotional bisexual does: he calls himself a taxi to a little village in the dales, because he wants to visit a certain gazebo. 

Unfortunately, Aaron has done exactly what Robert had told him to do. He’s moved on. He doesn’t have Seb in his life anymore, and Liv’s moved out and is working in Manchester. (Thanks to Robert’s guidance and Doug’s and Belle’s, she’s working at a start-up in Manchester, living her best life.) So he’s currently in a longterm relationship with Jason, a handsome accountant friend of Ryan’s who ran into Aaron when Ryan was helping update the Holey Scrap website, and politely flirted with him enough that even Jimmy King noticed and told him to take him up on it. (Aaron doesn’t know this, but Jimmy has secretly taken it upon himself to hold up his “Robert’s second best friend” duties even though Robert’s not here, because he knows that’s what Robert would want.) 

Jason, who is also the new accountant at Home Farm and helps the new owner figure out a whole money scandal with the business, knows about Robert and how special that date is, so he offers to take Aaron away for the weekend as a form of distraction. With some more of Jimmy’s egging (because he’s also pulling double duty as Aaron’s secret second best friend atm), Aaron does take Jason up on his offer and goes away to Manchester to see Liv with him. 

While there, Aaron has a ton of fun and realises that Jason really is a great guy and that if he had to move on from Robert and marry someone else, Jason would be an ideal pick. The sex is good, his family likes him, and Aaron actually does love him underneath it all. Of course, it’s not the earth-shattering love he had with Robert, because nothing will ever match that, but it’s enough. He never thought he’d move on from Robert, but look! He’s found it in himself to look at another man and get butterflies. It’s progress! 

He doesn’t tell Liv or Jason, but the whole ride home he’s thinking of his wedding day with Robert and how he might propose to Jason. (Jason’s always floated the idea of marriage, but has never pressed because he has enough sense to ignore Paddy and Chas and listen to what Aaron’s not saying: i.e. that he doesn’t want to get married again.) 

And THAT’s when it strikes! The massive week-long event that Emmerdale has been hyping up all month: A plane crash that causes a multi-car pile up. (The plane crash has to do with the new owner of Home Farm confronting the person related to the embezzlement of funds.) 

Aaron and Jason are caught up in pile up it but aren’t hurt. Unfortunately, Cain is and it’s serious, so they rush to the hospital. Aaron has flashbacks the whole time and can’t help but wonder if this is how Robert felt when it was him. 

They get to the hospital and Jason goes to park the car and Aaron goes rushing in, and a familiar blonde nurse says “Oh! You’re here. Thank goodness. He won’t settle.” 

She grabs him by the arm as she drags him to a room, Aaron asks if Cain’s alright, and she says they don’t know. They still have to run tests. Aaron tries to text Chas with one hand because his phone is blowing up. The Dingles are trying to make sure everyone is accounted for. 

It’s not until he finishes sending his text that he looks up and his heart stops. There’s no way the face looking back at him is the face that is right now. There’s no way those eyes and those freckles and those lips can belong to anyone else. 

He must be imagining things. “Robert?” 

And that’s when he hears it. The voice he’s practically memorised off a short video message and several others they’ve sent each other during their time together; fleeting snippets of a life shared. 

“Aaron!” Robert exclaims looking at him with nothing but love and happiness. Then he frowns, brow furrowing as he frowns and looks Aaron over. “Thought you’d at least dress up for our honeymoon.” 

(The doctors find nothing physically wrong with Robert, just a special kind of soap-induced memory loss. And because he still thinks Aaron and he are married, he moves back into the Mill with Aaron, thus kicking off a three-month love triangle of Aaron and Robert and Jason, where Aaron must figure out which man holds his future and Robert has to slowly come to terms with how life has moved on and changed around him.) 

And there you have it! This is how I would do it if I were an Emmerdale producer with a billion dollars in the bank. Or just a new producer. Bring Ryan back with the promise of a juicy storyline (amnesia), a clean slate for Robert and Aaron to move forward from (amnesia), and a way for them to revisit their relationship and work through the pain of what he did in prison and how he stayed away while getting out, thus moving them towards a third reunion/wedding. (This time in the gazebo, when Robert finally has his memory back and is really giving himself a hell of a reunion tour.) 

In any case, it’s the perfect way to hide Ryan’s return (a big event which they can keep promoting), while giving said event a banner ending, especially if you want to give Danny/Aaron a nice juicy storyline moving forward. (Being torn between two men who love him and he loves in turn. Though we all know he’ll be back with Robert within a month or so, or at least by Christmas, where maybe they can have their own Christmas special, but this time it’s like a sliding sideways type deal where Aaron sees how his future would be with both men and he truly has to choose.) 

Though, in my hypothetical universe, I do think the news will be “leaked” and then we’ll all tune in and they’ll get the high ratings they want. I dunno. I hope it turns out this way and we all get surprised with Robert showing up in a hospital bed thinking that time hasn’t passed at all because that would be such a good parallel to him walking into the pub like he did when he returned in 2014. 

[ginnyzero]

Completely Harmless Ch. 63

Completely Harmless An SSO SilverGlade Re-imagining Story (Or Fix it Fan Salt fic) By Ginny O.

When Lily and her friends wanted to buy horses and were directed to the Silverglade Manor and its myriad of problems, they didn’t expect to start a revolution. They were just a bunch a stable girls. Completely harmless. Right?

A/N: Things are only canon if I say they’re canon. Pre-Saving the Moorland Stables compliant for the most part. Posted in its entirety on my website. Posted in 2000 to 4000 word bits here. Rated T for Swearing Word Count 177,577

Chapter Sixty-Three Rescue Time (but First Needling Mr. Sands)

Lily took another slice of lasagna. “This is actually decent lasagna.”

Mr. Sands’ brow twitched.

“Did you get the recipe from Catherine?” Lily asked.

Alex and Justin left. Justin giving a tour guide type of spiel. Lily figured he wouldn’t s how Alex anyplace sensitive. Which was fine. They didn’t need to see anything sensitive.

Mr. Sands stared at Lily.

She continued to eat. “When are you going to tell that poor boy that you killed his mother’s friends?”

“He wouldn’t exist if I hadn’t.” Mr. Sands frowned. “His father hid his heritage from him.”

“Hmm, I’m not sure how telling anyone that your grandmother is the Baroness of your district but we can’t associate with her because your grandfather, her ex-husband is an immortal alien who wants to take over the world is going to go over well.” Lily licked the fork suggestively. “I mean, there are May December romances, and then there’s you.”

Sabine and Jessica snickered.

“You know quite a bit more than you should.”

“What can I say? I have a face that people trust.” Lily shrugged and continued to eat. “You smile. You nod. You let them talk. People love to talk about themselves. The Baroness though, she was a tougher nut to crack. She doesn’t do talk. She does actions. Deeds. So, was it something you did or didn’t do that tore you two apart?”

Mr. Sands snorted. “Don’t be foolish enough to think I had any feelings towards her. She was a means to an end, no more. She didn’t have what I needed.”

“Hmm, it’s interesting to me that you were able to contain Anne, but not Lisa.” Lily stuck the fork into the lasagna.

“Oh, they fought,” Jessica said.

Sabine smirked. “But not enough.”

“You don’t need a Dark Rider,” Lily mused. “So, why keep Anne imprisoned?”

“Elise is not my recruit.”

“Oh, contingency plans.” Lily nodded. The name Elise sounded familiar but she couldn’t place it off the top of her head. “Clever enough.” She finished her slice and set down her plate. “I’ll go catch up with Justin and Alex. They might need minding. And I’m the one they think is the flirt.” Lily pushed her hair back over her shoulder strutting from the room.

She found Alex and Justin pretty easily.

“Hanging out here all day sounds like a bore,” Alex said as they wandered around a large room.

“There are plans to be set in motion,” Justin said. “And it’s not that bad.”

“No place to ride. No elbow room. Everyone on top of each other.”

“Sounds kinky,” Lily spoke up.

Alex jumped. “Don’t do that, Lils.”

Lily checked her phone.

Alex strode away from Justin. “Wait, wait, wait. At least you know what you’re waiting for I suppose.” She jerked her head to one side.

Lily waited to make sure Justin had his eyes on Alex before looking where Alex had indicated. A book rested on a book stand.

“The day is important. All the generals agree that to do it early would only bring disaster. The Keepers are too fixated on their prophecy to be paying attention. And without the other Soul Riders, they can’t stop us even if they wanted to.”

Lily walked towards the book slowly.

“They’re down to one now,” Alex said and shifted her weight. She moved towards Justin. “We’re going to be together, no matter what, baby.”

“You and me against the world,” Justin said.

Alex rested her hands on his chest. “That’s right.”

Justin frowned and turned his head to look for Lily.

Alex put a hand on his cheek and turned his head back to look at her. “Justin, look at me. I’d burn the world for you. You used to feel the same. It’s still in her.” She rubbed a circle on his chest.

Lily snagged the book and stuck it in the back of her pants under her trench coat. “Do I need to tell you two to get a room?” She leaned against the stand.

Alex flushed. “Are any of these generals hot so we can get Lily her own May December romance?”

“Only one person can rule the world, Alex,” Lily said. “And it’s going to be me.”

“Yes, yes, all hail the Queen.”

“I keep moving up in the world,” Lily murmured.

“Empress even. We can be the Empress’ advisors.” Alex grinned. “Ruling sounds so tedious anyways. You need a champion. I take champion.”

Lily snorted.

Justin rolled his eyes. “Garnok is going to rule. Not us.”

“I guess I better figure out a way to kill Garnok,” Lily said dryly.

“Come on, you have to be here for one reason or another. Show me.” Alex took Justin’s hand and tugged him away.

“Fine, there’s a control room. I can show you that,” Justin said. “It’s just a bunch of screens and drones though. There probably isn’t anything very interesting going on.”

“But it will kill time,” Alex said.

“Ugh, don’t talk about killing time,” Lily groaned. “You want the entire world to fall out of whack.”

Alex winked at her and urged Justin forward.

--

Evergray polished the keystone with a rag. “Keystones truly are a thing of wonder. You wouldn’t think a thing of such humble origins would be able to part the veil of space and time.”

Linda double checked the tuning of the harp like Lily had shown her. It was mostly nerves. She turned her head.

Horse hooves clopped against the stone of the path echoing into the Dale.

But not one set of hooves, multiple.

Elizabeth Sunbeam, Rhiannon, Avalon and a host of druids in robes and hoods swept into the Dale on horses of all colors.

“What is going on here?” Elizabeth asked.

Avalon cleared his throat. “I told you to leave, brother.”

“Tsk, as if I listen very well,” Evergray said and coughed.

“Linda,” Elizabeth scolded. “I thought better of you. Evergray isn’t to be trusted. He’s a thief.”

Linda stood up holding the harp in her arms. “He’s been more honest than you have been.” She lifted her chin.

“What is that?” Rhiannon nodded at the stone in Evergray’s arms.

“You don’t know.” Evergray shook his head. “Twenty years and all the new recruits are base ignorant. This never would have happened while I was chief archivist.”

“Evergray, you have violated the terms of your exile,” Elizabeth said. “You were warned what would happen if you ever returned. We have come to take you into custody.”

“I see how you are, Elizabeth.” Evergray turned his head and coughed. He looked back at her. “You’ve come full circle then.”

Elizabeth flushed. “I don’t know what you mean.” She straightened on her horse.

“If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be so mad. Come, now, we haven’t actually answered your questions.”

More horse hooves echoed in the Dale, this time, they were alone.

A grey dapple horse with a white mane appeared at the end of the Dale.

The druids murmured and moved aside.

“Concorde,” they whispered and murmured to each other.

Concorde trotted between them. He lowered his head to Linda. “Soul Rider,” he murmured.

Linda pressed her forehead against his. “You’re safe and alive.”

“What do you need me to do?” Concorde asked.

“Make room, make room,” Evergray said. “I believe this is our cue.”

Linda quietly explained to Concorde the plan.

--

Alex had managed to wheedle Justin back to the horses.

“It’s time,” Lily said.

“Justin, baby, your lips look super chapped.” Alex grabbed his chin.

Justin tried to move his head. “They’re fine.”

“No. They’re definitely chapped. Can’t kiss you with chapped lips,” she said. She took out the chap stick and popped the lid off with one hand. “Hold still.”

Justin’s eyes widened and he leaned back. “Alex.”

She smeared it onto his lips before he could say anything else or get away.

Justin stilled and stared ahead barely blinking.

Lily reached into her saddlebag. “Catch,” she said and tossed potions at her.

Alex caught them and opened the first one over Saga’s rump. “There, there, boy, you’ll be yourself in no time.” She hurried over to the other horses.

Lily juggled the other three potions. She poured them over the backs.

“Last one,” Alex said.

Lily tossed it to her.

Alex poured it over the back of the horse.

Lily went for the halters. “Ten minutes, and counting,” she said.

Justin blinked and rubbed his eyes. “What happened? Where am I?” He looked around. “What’s wrong with Saga?”

“Saga’s going to be all right, give her a few minutes,” Alex darted over to him.

He stared at her. “Are you wearing lip stick?”

She flung her arms around his neck. “That’s my Justin,” she said tears in her eyes. “You aren’t going to do this to me ever again. No more mind control from evil grandfathers. You hear me Justin Moorland. I can’t go through this again.”

He wrapped his arms around her. “It’s all so fuzzy. Except there was lots of lasagna.”

Alex laughed and hiccupped. “Of course you remember the lasagna.”

“Tasted like mom’s,” Justin mumbled.

“Justin, I need you to help Lily get the horses to the gate.” Alex cupped his face. “Can you do that?”

“Sure,” Justin said. He rubbed his face. “I’m just, there’s this fog.”

Alex handed him the chap stick. “Apply if you think you need more.”

Justin looked at it. “For the record, my lips aren’t chapped.” His hand closed over it.

“Sure they aren’t.” Alex kissed his cheek. She went to Lily’s saddlebags and grabbed her tools and the keystone.

“Five minutes,” Lily said.

“On it.” Alex jogged off.

“Help me get them saddled. They probably won’t fight you.”

Justin nodded.

Together they saddled the horses who tried to move away, but the further time went, the less they fought.

Justin tightened the last girth as the first spell broke over the horses.

They tossed their heads and locked their legs.

“Easy, easy,” Lily said. “We’re going to get all of you out of here. Come on.” She grabbed the reins of Nimbus and two of the others.

Nimbus took charge.

Justin took the other horses including Saga.

Alex had the gate mechanism ripped open and was fitting the keystone inside fitting the wires to it.

Lily took the book out of her pants back and put it in her saddlebag.

Alex flipped switches.

Justin’s brow furrowed.

Alex pushed the lever up. The entire rig hummed. Purple energy swirled around.

“Stop!” Jessica shouted. “They’ve opened the gate!”

Lily got on her horse.

Alex selected a horse at random and mounted.

Justin got on Saga.

“Run!” Lily shouted and Nimbus vaulted forward jumping through the portal and running flat out, the two horses behind him.

Justin urged Saga forward. The other horse followed him.

Alex gave the running Dark Riders the finger and her horse, not willing to be left behind even if the way ahead was pink energy ran after the others.

They ran as fast as they could down the winding floating stone road, jumping the gaps and through the other portal.

Alex jumped through the portal into Pandoria. It fizzled and snapped shut behind her almost taking her horse’s tail.

Justin stared around. “Where are we?”

Lily moved into view, Nimbus’ wings pressed tight over her legs. His horn gleamed in the odd light. “Welcome to Pandoria.”

--

The Soul Horses moved into their positions at the bases of the statues. They looked upwards. Magic swirled around them and they became more than what they were. Starshine’s grey mane and tail turned electric blue, a crystal horn jutted from his head. The end of it gleamed with pink light.

At the base of his statue, magenta light filled the carvings making them grow brighter.

Meteor was no longer just red. He was the red of the Harvest Moon and scattered with crater markings with moving clouds. His mane and tail white gold and glowing. His beard curled under his chin.

The magenta light swelled in the carvings of the Moon Soul Horse Statue and lit up the Dale.

Tin Can stomped his hooves. They turned cloven, like a deer rather than a horse. Lightning swirled around his bronze body and crackled in his golden mane and tail jumping off in jagged sparks and spears.

The lightning jumped from him to his statue. It turned pink and crept up every leg and around the body lighting up the carvings.

Concorde spread his glowing white wings. His coat had turned silver with lighter white gold spots. A feather fell from his wings, drifted down and fell at the base of the statue. A rainbow flared around it and then it turned pink and disappeared. The carvings glowed pink.

Linda carefully shifted the keystone into place.

Magenta light swelled at the base of the broken statue and raced up the carvings of the stairs to the gate. Pink light swirled around like a galaxy, small at first but growing until it stabilized into a door.

Elizabeth’s voice sharpened. “Is that the Harp of Aideen?”

Linda cradled the harp in her arms. She moved to the base of the stairs and plucked the strings. And with the music, she sent her heart after it.

FOR THE ACCOMPANYING IMAGES PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE MY WATERMARK AND CONTACT INFORMATION. THANK YOU. I get it. Some of you might get excited and want to see this stuff in the game, especially the clothes, tack, and pets. However, the only way I want to see this in the game is if I get paid for it. If I see it in the game and I’m not paid for it, there will be hell to pay. You think I’m salty. I’d be angry. Personally, I’m not going to send this info to SSO. If you do, leave my contact information there! Don’t give them any excuses to steal.

Now, I’ll know you haven’t read this note if you leave me comments about how ‘salty’ I am about the game and if I hate it so much I should do something else. I am doing something else. It’s called Mystic Riders MMORPG Project. Mystic Riders however is a very baby phase game. You can check out our plans on the game dev blog. (Skills, Factions, Professions, Crafting, Mini-Games, 25+ horse breeds!) If you know anyone who would be interested and has money or contacts about game making, direct them to the blog.

[ddixons-angel]

Fated: Season 1

Summary: Gloria Rhee narrowly escapes Atlanta with her brother as the outbreak reaches the city. Luckily, they find a camp outside the city and together, they fend through encounters with the living and undead.

Starts a little before Season 1 and then follows the main storyline of the show.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Glenn Sister!OC

Warnings: major TWD spoilers, language, violence, mild racism

To be Updated every Monday!

A/N: This chapter was kinda hard to write, mainly because of Merle. His dialogue is fun to write BUT at the beginning of the show, we all know how he is… and I was really torn about how to write his… ways lol I hope it doesn’t offend anyone! I felt the need to keep it canonically correct to his character, I’m sorry if it does! Also yeah, Daryl is a bit of an ass in this one too lol

Chapter 2:

“Hey! Tha’s my rabbit!” 

Gloria and the man with the crossbow eye each other carefully. She glances down at the arrow piercing the rabbit then back at the man and his crossbow. She matches the arrow with the weapon and confirms that this man is indeed the hunter who caught the animal. Gloria slowly holds her hand up, showing physically that she doesn’t want to cause any trouble. She gestures that she’s going to throw the rabbit to him and then she does, the carcass landing at the man’s feet. She makes up her mind to recruit this man, the group would appreciate a hunter. 

 “You’re a hunter.” Gloria states the obvious, “do you have a camp?”

The man’s eyes narrow, “Why?”

“I have a camp just back there, we have a bunch of people, women and children. I know they’d appreciate any fresh meat a skilled hunter can provide. In return, we’ll give you a place to stay.” Gloria tries to convince him, letting the fact that she just gave a stranger their location slip her mind.

The man finally lowers his crossbow, “Nah, don’ need ya.” 

“What? Yes, you do. In case you haven’t noticed, Mr. Crossbow, the world has gone to shit and we’re all safer in numbers.” Gloria argues.

“I meant I don’ need a camp run by a damn girl!” he raises his voice in frustration. 

Gloria scoffs at this and almost lets her anger caused by his sexist comment take over when she remembers that the group needs this, she takes a deep breath and swallows her pride, “I don’t run the camp. A guy, a deputy named Shane, he runs the place. Is that good enough for you?”

“Ah, that’s plenty good, ain’ it lil’ brother?” another voice belts out in a southern drawl, a taller and seemingly older man walks out from a shroud of bush, a snarky grin on his face, “so, ya say ya got a group and a camp?”

Wary of being outnumbered, Gloria nods, “we’re in need of hunters, half of them don’t remember the last time they had fresh meat.” 

“Well then, you’re in luck! See, I’m the better hunter out o’ us Dixons, we’ll get fresh meat for ya, sweetheart.” the older man says as he claps the younger on the shoulder.

“I’ll take that as you accepting my offer to come back with me?” Gloria clarifies.

The older man eyes her up and down, “Oh, I’ll come back with ya any day.”

“Man, don’t ya ever shut it…” the crossbow wielder mutters under his breath, shaking his head. 

Gloria brushes off the last comment made by the older man, taking a mental note to stay away from him, “before I take you back to my camp, would you mind telling me your names?”

“Merle.” the older man says, his chest puffed up proudly as if announcing his name is a huge accomplishment.

“Daryl.” the crossbow wielder says, putting the strap of the weapon over his head and letting it hang on his shoulder and over his broad chest, “you?”

“Gloria.” she says simply, her and Daryl have a brief but intense eye contact, she feels that most people would be intimidated by this kind of stare, but she senses no danger in his gaze, “shall we get going then?”

“Lead the way!” Merle grins as he starts to follow Gloria to the camp, leaving Daryl behind him.

The three of them make it back to the camp and as there are two unfamiliar faces with Gloria, their appearance cause the others to become anxious. Gloria waves over to Shane and beckons him to come over, and as he does, Glenn follows.

“Gloria, who are they?” Shane says once he reaches him, his hand on his waist near his gun holster. 

“Shane, this is Merle and Daryl. They’re brothers, hunters. I was thinking that the others would like to have some fresh meat, you know, boost the morale. Plus, Carl and Sophia are still growing, it could do them a lot of good.” Gloria vouches for the brothers, she tries to read Shane’s expression as she poses her next question, “so, are you okay with them staying?” 

Rather than answering Gloria directly, Shane looks over at the brothers, “you guys willing to hunt for the group?”

“If it means we’ll get a place to get some good shut eye, then by all means, we’ll go and hunt for ya!” Merle grins at Shane. 

Daryl looks at Merle with a weird look and Gloria catches this, noticing that something doesn’t feel right with the situation. She doesn’t say anything though, in case it’s a private family issue. 

“Alright then, let’s go get you boys settled in, come with me.” Shane smiles and leads the brothers to the area near the RV.

Gloria is about to follow after them when Glenn grabs her arm and pulls her back, “where the hell were you? I was worried sick about you! You can’t just wander off into the woods without letting me know, you know how dangerous it is now out there?”

“Okay, first of all, Glenn, you gotta breathe,” Gloria says, holding a hand up as if showing a pause, “second, I went to go get water, Amy told me there’s a stream with fresh water in the woods. I didn’t feel right sitting around doing nothing, and with you always going on runs to Atlanta, I had to do something for the group.”

Glenn sighs and nods, “I get that… but is it really that hard to just let me know where you’re going? I asked everyone and they all said they didn’t know where you went.” 

“I told Amy though, did you ask her?” Gloria said, crossing her arms.

“She’s… the only one I didn’t ask…” Glenn admits, causing Gloria to chuckle, “just leave a note for me on my tent or something next time?”

Gloria nods and puts her arm around Glenn’s shoulders, “alright, I’ll do that. You know you’re really turning into mom with how much you worry?” 

Glenn rolls his eyes as they start making their way back to the main campsite. Once there, Gloria takes the now full water bottles out of her bag, placing them in a bin that was labelled ‘UNBOILED’. Glenn had gone back to the RV where T-Dog was studying a map with Dale. 

—

A few days after Gloria brought back the Dixon brothers to the camp, she realizes that she might have made a huge mistake. It turns out that when Merle says ‘we’ll hunt for you’, he actually means Daryl will hunt for the group while Merle sits in the camp and gets intoxicated and sometimes start issues within the group. He had already called T-Dog racist profanities multiple times, irritating the man and almost always needing Shane to break up the two before they start to throw punches. Daryl on the other hand, he actually kept his bargain and hunted for the group. 

“Hey Shane,” Gloria calls out to the deputy as she walks up to him, “I… am so so sorry for bringing someone like Merle to the camp… I had no idea that he’d be such an asshole.”

Shane chuckles at this and waves his hand in the air as if to dismiss Gloria, “Nah, don’t be sorry, you didn’t know. You were only looking out for the group. Now, if you did know how much of a problem he’d be but you still brought him, then I’d have a problem.”

“No, sir, I didn’t know.” Gloria smiles, “I still feel bad though, he’s been making everyone uncomfortable.”

“Don’t feel bad about it, it ain’t your fault.” Shane glances over at Merle then back at Gloria, “plus, it’s not like you didn’t bring anything good to the group, Daryl’s pulling his weight and providing for us.” 

Gloria nods but then sighs, “he is, but I feel bad for him too.”

Shane frowns at this, confused, “what for?”

“Daryl,” she looks over to the man in subject who looks to be fidgeting with his crossbow, “it feels like he has to work extra hard to make up for what his brother isn’t doing, he deserves better than that.”

“I know what you mean,” Shane sighs, “but I don’t think there’s anything we can do about it, that might just be their family dynamic and how they work as brothers, if that’s the case, you know that no one can change it.” 

Gloria nods sadly, “Yes, sir, I know.”

Shane eyes her at her words, “and what did I say about you calling me ‘sir’? Told you I don’t like that shit.”

Gloria shrugs, “Sorry, it just comes out naturally, especially when you’re in uniform, just happens… sir.” 

Shane laughs and shakes his head, he’s about to say something else when shouting is heard. The two look over in the direction of the voices and see that Merle and T-Dog have gotten into another fight. This time, Glenn is there with them and seems as though he’s trying to break up the fight. Gloria and Shane start making their way over to the three before any more damage can be done.

“Hey, seriously can you calm down?! Why do you have to start shit with people every day?!” Glenn shouts at Merle with his arms out, trying to keep T-Dog and Merle apart from each other.

“Why don’ ya stop tryin’ to get into other people’s business, ya damn chink!” Merle shouts back, smacking Glenn’s hand out of his face.

“You see this?!” T-Dog says angrily gesturing to Merle, “how do you expect me to keep calm when all he’s doing is shouting racist shit like that?!”

Glenn turns his attention to T-Dog, “I’m not saying you’re wrong, T’, bu-”

“O’ course ya gonna defend him, say he’s not wrong, ya colored bitches gotta stick together after the big ol’ white man, huh? Fuckin’ go back to where ya came from!” Merle shouts loudly, swaying on his own two feet.

“That’s enough!” Gloria marches in between the three men, Shane on the outskirts of the fight, ready to jump in if needed, “that type of shit is not welcome here, you take it back and apologize to them, right now!”

Merle scoffs and holds his head high, “Merle don’ apologize to anybody! Let alone a damn black man and a chinaman!”

Gloria glares at him and walks right up to Merle, getting into his face, “I’d advise you to stop that shit, right now.” 

“Oh yeah? Or what?” Merle doesn’t back down and challenges her further.

“Or you’re gonna let everyone see that you got your ass handed to you by a girl. Now wouldn’t that be embarrassing?” Gloria says lowly in a dangerous tone.

“I’d like to see what a slanty-eyed ho like ya can do to me.” Merle then belts out a laugh. 

Gloria steps back, closes her eyes, and lets out a deep breath. Daryl, who had been near the brother’s tents comes out and sees the crowd around his brother, he comes closer to the scene about to call out to Merle and asks what’s going on when Gloria swings a punch and hits Merle right in the face, knocking him down. Shane, T-Dog and Daryl, as well as the other onlookers in the camp are completely shocked by her actions while Glenn crosses his arms with a small hidden smile, knowing this was coming. 

Merle gets up, very obviously raged, wipes the blood from his now split lip, “You bitch!” he lunges forward to pounce on Gloria.

Gloria readjusts her feet and readies herself for Merle’s attack. She swiftly dodges Merle’s punch and counters it by grabbing his arm, turning her back towards him and flips him over her shoulder, throwing the man onto the ground. Gloria grunts as she twists Merle’s arm, causing him to shout in pain as she dislocates his shoulder. 

At this point, Daryl rushes over to the fight, “hey stop! Let him go!” 

Gloria does as Daryl asked and let go of Merle’s arm. Daryl goes to help his brother who pushes him off once he’s on his feet. 

Not wanting to give up his pride, Merle glares Gloria as he his hand presses on his injured shoulder, “I guess I should have known a chinawoman would know Kung Fu.” 

“One,” Gloria starts as she starts walking up to Merle again, “I know Taekwondo, not Kung Fu. Two, we’re Korean, not Chinese. And three,” she gets in Merle’s face again, “I hear you say any type of that bullshit to anyone again, I’ll do more than just dislocate your arm.” 

With one final glare, Gloria turns and retreats back to the campsite with Glenn, T-Dog and Shane following behind her. Daryl’s eyes haven’t left Gloria, he’s quite impressed that a small girl like her was able to hurt Merle. He goes over to him and ushers his brother back to their camp. 

Back at the main campsite, Shane goes over to Gloria with a smirk, “I guess you just made up for bringing Merle to the group.” 

Gloria laughs at this, “Yeah, yeah I guess I did.” 

—

Days have passed since Gloria showed Merle his place, and he had seemingly learned his lesson and stayed away from the main campsite in general. The group had run out of water again and Gloria took it upon herself to collect more from the stream, but not before leaving a note to Glenn, telling him where she was headed to prevent him from freaking out again. She goes back out to the same stream and fills up the bottles, on her way back she’s looking around for mushrooms when she bumps into Daryl. 

“Hey.” she calls to him as he grunts to her in response, she walks closer to him, “how’s Merle’s arm?”

Daryl scoffs at her question, “What, are ya worried ‘bout him now? We popped it back the day ya did the damage, he’s good.” 

“That’s good, I was just gonna say that if it’s still not better, I’d help him take a look at it.” Gloria’s words earn her a weird look from Daryl, “What?”

“Ya hurt him and then ya talk ‘bout takin’ a look at yer work? What are ya, some kinda serial killer?!” Daryl raises his voice at her.

“I have training in the medical field, I used to be a nurse before the world went to shit. Yeah, you’re right, I was the one who hurt him but I’m also willing to help him if he needs it.” Gloria explains, “he may be an asshole, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve proper medical attention.” 

Daryl gives her a look that Gloria isn’t able to comprehend, “if Merle ever comes to ya, it ain’ gon’ be for medical attention… he ain’ gon’ let what happened slide, so jus’ watch ya back.”

“Well, he seems like he learned his lesson, hasn’t been starting any arguments with T’ lately.” Gloria shrugs, “but then again, you’re his brother, you’d know him best.”

“Yeah… jus’ stay away from him, Merle never stays quiet for long.” Daryl mutters.

There is a silence between them as Gloria shifts on her feet, “so, what did you catch so far?” 

“Jus’ these.” Daryl says, gesturing to the line of squirrels and a single rabbit hanging off his belt. 

“Merle doesn’t hunt, does he.” Gloria says more as a statement than a question.

Daryl just grunts as a response, then turns to return to hunting. Gloria follows him, her curiosity getting the better of her; she’s never witnessed a hunter at work before. Daryl leads as he stealthily goes around the woods, examining the ground for any tracks he can pick up.

“He used to.” Daryl whispers.

Gloria looks at him, “what?”

“Merle used to hunt. Used to take me out huntin’, but he doesn’ anymore. Now all he does is smoke up or get drunk.” Daryl explains, smacking away branches that get in his way with his hands. 

“So, he leaves it all to you?” Gloria didn’t know why, but she liked talking to Daryl and getting to know him.

Daryl grunts a yes then pauses, stops walking and turns his head to face her, “would ya stop followin’ me?” 

Gloria frowns at his sudden change, confused and slightly shocked, “What?”

“All yer questions an’ the way ya walk, scarin’ off any game here!” Daryl raises his voice. 

Gloria rolls her eyes and scoffs, “I don’t think you’re really helping with all your yelling, but fine, you want me to go, I’ll go,” she starts to walk off but then stops and turns around when she remembers something, “be careful if you’re gonna walk along the creek, it’s pretty slippery there.” 

Daryl waves her off and turns back around as Gloria does the same, walking back to the camp. She doesn’t get very far though as she soon hears a loud thump from behind her followed by a string of Daryl cursing. Gloria turns around and rushes back to Daryl and finds him on the ground near the creek where she told him to be careful. 

“You alright?” she asks as she makes her way to his side and helps him up, but not without an amused smile on her face. 

“‘M fine…the hell ya laughin’ at?” Daryl glares at her.

Gloria shrugs, “well, I did tell you to be careful, but clearly you don’t listen very well, do you?”

Daryl rolls his eyes and doesn’t say anything else. Looking around, he finds his crossbow lying on the ground and goes to pick it up with his left hand but winces in pain.

“The hell?” Daryl looks down at his wrist and sees that it’s swollen.

Gloria’s smile is now replaced with a look of concern, “Here, let me take a look,” she holds out her hands, urging Daryl to let her examine his wrist to which he slowly but hesitantly does, “it looks like you sprained it.” 

“Great.” Daryl groans, taking his arm back from Gloria, he picks up his crossbow with his good hand. 

Gloria looks at Daryl and notices that he has a gash on his right temple, “we should head back to the camp so I can help you stitch that up.” 

“Why the hell ya wan’ to help me?!” Daryl snaps at her.

Gloria sighs at his words, she’s already gotten used to this type of behaviour from when she was a nurse, “Like I said before, I used to be a nurse and I know that I can help you. Plus, we can’t have our one and only useful hunter hurt. Now, come on.” 

She ushers him back to their camp and she tries to get Daryl to come with her to the main campsite so she can patch up his wound. However, Daryl doesn’t budge but he also knows Gloria doesn’t want to go back to where him and his brother’s tents are set up. 

“Tell you what, you sit there and I’ll bring the first aid kit.” Gloria suggests, gesturing to an alignment of rocks meant to be a small sitting area. 

Daryl nods then heads over to the rocks, sitting down and waits for Gloria to return with the first aid kit. When she returns to him, she gets to work right away, opening the first aid kit and ripping open an alcohol swab to clean Daryl’s wound. 

“This might sting a little.” Gloria says gently before leaning closer to Daryl and gently dabbing on and around the wound. 

Daryl closes his eyes and does his best not to let it show that the stinging is hurting him. Being attentive and good at her job, Gloria notices this and lightly blows on the wound, attempting to soothe it as she continues with her work. Once the wound is cleaned, Gloria looks over it and smiles as she sees that it isn’t as bad as she thought.

“Doesn’t look like it needs stitches after all, I’ll just pop a bandage on it, then I’ll take a look at your wrist.” Gloria explains to him, going through the kit and finding the bandage she was talking about.

Daryl opens his eyes and watches her as she unwraps a small piece of bandage and cuts a proper sized piece. She then does the same with a roll of surgical tape, matching the length of the bandage.

“Come here.” Gloria looks up at him with the pieces of bandage and tape in her hands, ushering him to come closer so that she can patch up the cut.

He obliges and leans closer to her, blushing slightly at how close she is to him as he’s not used to being close with anyone, period. Gloria doesn’t notice this as she is focused on gently placing the bandage and tape on his cut. 

“Thanks..” Daryl says, looking down at his feet, wishing that his blush would go away.

“It’s no problem. It doesn’t look like it’ll scar so you don’t have to worry about your pretty face.” Gloria chuckles, noticing finally that Daryl isn’t very comfortable, “let’s take a look at that wrist now.”

She holds up her hand and waits for him to give her his arm to examine. Daryl stares at her then at her raised hand, then hesitantly but surely gives her his arm. Gloria gently holds his arm with one hand, then uses her other to gently press on parts of his arm, starting with his forearm. As she goes down his arm, gently but firmly putting pressure, she continuously asks if it hurts more. Daryl keeps shaking his head but when she gets to his wrist, he hisses in pain and curses under his breath.

“Sorry.” Gloria says automatically at his reaction. 

She then starts to gently massage on and around the swollen parts of his arm, Daryl doesn’t say anything or pull away, he just sits there watching her as she massages. 

“It’s sprained. Massaging will help spread the dead muscle and blood tissue, that’s what causes the pain.” Gloria explains as she continues to gently massage.

She was sure that Daryl already knew what caused the pain from a strain, she figured that he did since he knew how to pop back a dislocated shoulder. Gloria just had to distract herself from certain thoughts about the man sitting in front of her as she touched his muscles; she’d always been attracted to a man with strong arms and Daryl was definitely a strong armed man. 

“That should be good for now,” Gloria says after a small while of massaging Daryl’s wrist, “let me know if it still hurts or starts to swell, but it shouldn’t." 

Daryl nods and takes his arm back, "thanks.”

Gloria packs up her first aid kit and closes it. She smiles at Daryl and pats his shoulder before getting up and walking back to the main campsite. Just before she reaches it, she turns back to look at Daryl to see him still watching her from where he was seated. They share a brief but intense eye contact before he looks down, then heads back to his and his brothers tents to rest for the night.

—

Next Chapter

And there you have chapter 2! The group has met the brothers and Daryl and Gloria shared a moment~! Is it bad that I found it cute still even though it’s just awkward for him? xD I love awkward shy Daryl

I would really appreciate any comments left for me! I’ll be replying to any comments in a new post because this is a sideblog! 

[fallinfor-youreyes]

Make Sure I Don’t Run Away

Slight canon divergence where everyone gets their own room (from the start) and relationships take a little bit longer to become established because I am a firm believer that the 'before they get together' part of a relationship is one of the best and most interesting parts, and feel we were slightly robbed. On Ao3.

Her hands are shaking. Which if she’s being honest is not something really new. But she’s not sure if they are shaking because of all the shit currently going on in their lives, of because she’s standing outside of Chase Stein’s room, the echo of her single knock falling into the space around her.

She should leave. Turn around and walk back to her room and her dinosaur and build herself a nest out of musty blankets and dusty pillows and pretend she did not just knock on Chase’s door. Because if she pretends hard enough then she didn’t, and if she didn’t she still has time to turn around and disappear into that safe nest of things that are not hers, and protect herself from telling him all of things she’s been planning to say since the night of the dance.

Gert’s hands are still shaking, but she has a plan now, and a dinosaur who is very willing to cuddle with her, so she drops her hands from where they are waiting at the door and spins on her heel, because she did not knock, and he is not going to come to the door, and she is going to be home free in just a few steps-

“Gert?”

Of course he would open the door. Of course she actually knocked. Because Gert from 5 minutes ago had a plan that ended with her knocking on his door and finally talking about this, about whatever happened and how it was driving her out of her mind, and typically she is very good at her plans. She thinks them over and calculates them and the consequences, and Gert from 10 minutes ago saw knocking as a good plan.

Current Gert is suddenly very upset at Gert from 10 minutes ago, and her stupid positivity and optimism.

She turns, only slightly, enough that she can spot him in her peripheral which is where she wants him to stay. Any more of him would send her already overburdened brain into overdrive.

“Sorry! I was just going to ask if you possibly had an extra pillow for Old Lace. But I remembered I saw one hiding beneath my bed, so I’ll be on my way. Night!” She waves at him over her shoulder, and then turns back toward the dark hallway, the one that will lead her to her room in under a minute if she speed walks.

“Gert,” he says her name again, this time more a sigh than a question, all too similar to the way he said her name when her hands found the buckle of his belt, and her entire body heats up ten thousand degrees, and she does not need this right now. Gert from 10 minutes ago did not factor this into the plan.

She turns to him, slowly, because walking away from him after he said her name like that would probably leave her with too many questions later. She sees him in her peripheral again but keeps turning, because once she’s started she can’t stop. It’s like when she kissed him. It’s like the small crack in the dam that shatters after weeks of rain (or in her case, 6 years of stupid feelings and stupid thoughts and a stupid heart that just would not quit him), and floods an entire city

He’s wearing that shirt with the chopped up sleeves, which give his arms way too much credit, and a pair of sweats that she’s never seen before, and he’s looking at her with that kicked puppy look that he used to use when they were kids. That look that means he’s upset, but he doesn’t know what to say. That look that means he wants to talk to her, but he’s afraid to mess it up.

She hates that she knows that look.

“Hi.” She says, curling her arms around herself, hiding herself from whatever is going to come next.

She messed them up before they even became a them, the dumb voice in her head telling her to shut him out instead of let him in because letting him in would mean getting hurt again. And she hates giving anyone that power. There’s only so many times she can let herself get hurt by those she cares about before it starts to becomes too much.

He chews on the bottom of his lip and it does nothing to calm the fire building in her stomach.

“I have an extra pillow. Do you want to come in and see if it works?”

It’s a simple question. A lie she can see right through. A lie to answer her lie, and for some reason it makes her smile.

“Sure.” She brushes past him into his room like she has a plan, like she is in control, but then she sees his bed and completely stops short.

Which results in his running straight into her, both of them stumbling until he steadies himself with his hands on her hips, and Gert has decided handling this is never going to happen.

It’s just a bed. They didn’t need a bed when they had sex a few weeks ago, so the sight of the bed should not be causing her cheeks to heat up, but they are. His hands, large and warm on her hips, are not helping.

She steps out of his reach, and picks the closest corner of the bed to balance herself on. Chase is still standing where he bumped into her, staring at the space between them.

It’s awkward.

She hates it.

She hates that all of this is because of stupid kiss and teenage hormones and the end of the world.

“So,” Gert swings her legs and looks anywhere but at Chase. Because he’s crossed his arms now, and those sleeves are a danger to womankind. And mankind. And all of human kind if she’s being honest.  “About that pillow?”

Chase laughs, and for a second, the tension in the room dissipates, and maybe just maybe, Gert thinks the whole having sex and then not really talking about the sex thing didn’t ruin this, didn’t ruin them completely. But then he finally turns his eyes on her, and her chest closes up, and all she can think about are his lips and his hands, and ‘one time thing’, and her mind is racing way to fast again.

“I don’t think you came here to find a pillow for Old Lace.” He takes a cautionary step forward, and when she doesn’t retreat he continues until he slips onto the bed next to her, not close enough to touch, but definitely close enough for her to feel his warmth. “Mainly because I’ve seen your room and I’m pretty sure you have already commandeered all of the free pillows.”

“Old Lace likes to be comfortable.” She says in defense, ready for quick come backs and verbal sparring, anything other than actually talking about what she wants to talk to him about. Anything other than the fact that she lied and really really wants to kiss him again.

And anything would be better than what they have been doing, which is mainly ignoring each other, or Gert staring at him long enough without knowing what to say that Molly has to punch her arm.

She wants to go back to them. To teasing quips and Chase’s defenses, and annoyed eye rolling, and casual hand touching, and conversations with just their eyes.

But that’s gone now because of something as silly as sex, that she definitely did not regret, and she wants them back. She wants him back. Chase Stein, dumb lacrosse star by day, secret engineering genius by night.

“Think she got that from you.” He nudges her shoulder and she she has to physically stop herself from jumping at the contact.

“I mean, technically, my parents made both of us, so maybe it runs in the family.”

It’s an accident, bringing up her parents but now she’s thinking about Dale and Stacey, and their homemade bran bars and how apparently they are also serial killers, and how she’s 16 and dealing with her feelings about a boy should be one of her biggest problems at the moment but it is so far from the truth.

“Not that I’m saying my parents reproduced a dinosaur, or that I am part dinosaur. Oh my god, am I part dinosaur? Is that why I’m connected with Old Lace?” She’s rambling. She knows she’s rambling, but maybe being part dinosaur would be easier than actually talking to Chase.

His hand drops to her knee, and her brain pushes all of it’s power to that single spot of contact.

“Gert.” He says her name again, like it’s half way between a prayer and sigh, and she hates it, because it makes her feel things she has been trying very hard to not feel. They are on the run, and the world is probably ending, and her parents are horrible people, and having feelings for Chase, or giving into her feelings for Chase, or doing just about anything with Chase just adds another level of shit to their new ever growing pile.

She doesn’t mean to flinch. She’s been thinking too much and her brain feels raw and exposed, and the way he says her name makes her think of dimmed lights and shuddered breathes and desperate hands.

His hand retracts, and he scoots over a few inches, and it’s incredibly thoughtful and perceptive of him, but it’s not what she wants.

“No, wait.” She grabs his hand, and all of the past tense Gert’s are cheering while present Gert is sort of trying not to throw up.

“It’s just,” she takes a deep breath and turns toward him, “We had sex.”

Chase’s eye brows almost disappear into his hair line, but he doesn’t say anything. Just watches her with his stupidly beautiful eyes, and runs his thumb over her knuckles in a way that is almost disarmingly comforting.

“And I don’t want that to make it awkward between us. But it has. And I lied. And I’ve been off my meds since we ran away, so everything it’s just a little bit too loud right now. And I thought it would be a good idea to talk about it. Because I couldn’t sleep. Because I kept thinking about your hands.” She tries to swallow the last part before it leaves her mouth but its too late.

But Chase doesn’t retreat. His thumb still runs over her knuckles and he give her those soft, soft eyes that make her insides turn to goo.

“What do you want?”

The words cut into her racing thoughts like a shot. In all her made up scenarios, he never asked that. She was expecting a quip about lacrosse or him to just shrug it off and tell her more about the fistagons. She wanted to lay out her thoughts and move on, leap over the hedge of ‘talk it out after the whole sleeping together thing’ so things can be smoothed out and get back to worrying about things like murder parents and how to dumpster dive.

“What?” She asks, because it’s the only word she can currently come up with.

Chase shrugs. “You said you don’t want it to be awkward between us. So what is it that you want?”

She’s searching his eyes because she knows what she wants, but she doesn’t know if she can handle it right now. Doesn’t know what he wants, what he’s feeling.

“I want to be friends.” She says, and she instantly feels like she’s sabotaging herself again, but she doesn’t know where he stands, and doesn’t want to make the awkward reappear because she can’t get her heart under control.

Something flashes in Chase’s eyes too fast for her to catch, and then she’s opening her big mouth before she can stop herself.

“What do you want?” She realizes she sort of sounds like a petulant child, but she doesn’t care. they’ve made it this far, and she’s the only one who’s really been talking.

Chase sighs and drops her hand so he can push his hair back, silently scooting and extra inch away from her again.

“I want to be friends too. So much. I like being your friend. It’s just,” he’s staring at his hands instead of her, and she can almost physically see his brain working on the right words to say. “Every time I look at you, or think about you, I just see you in the slip dress, which I’m pretty sure is haunting my dreams, and I realized I’m basically objectifying you which is wrong of me, and I need to work that out. Because it’s not fair to you. And it makes me feel like an asshole. I don’t want to be avoiding you, and I don’t want this to be awkward, but god Gert, that dress.”

She doesn’t mean to, but she breaks out into a smile, because he’s been thinking about her. But more than that, he’s been listening to her rants and speeches and her ideas, and that might even be better than anything else.

“That’s okay,” she says, probably too loud and too eager, her movement bringing her closer to him. “Because you’re aware of it. And actively trying to fix it. And totally not being an asshole at all. And if it makes you feel any better, sometimes I think about you with your shirt off. Have you seen your abs? I don’t think I understand how they are humanly possible.”

He’s smiling now, which is good. Gert likes it when he smiles. His entire face brightens, and he gets even more attractive somehow.

“So friends,” he says, tucking a loose piece of her hair behind her ear. “Who sometimes think about each other in potnetially compromising ways.”

“And who know each other’s O faces.”

She immediately wants to punch herself in the mouth, and squeezes her eyes shut so she doesn’t have to see his reaction. But she can feel his hand resting at the base of her neck, and hers is resting on his knee, and they literally just agreed to be friends but all she can think about is kissing him.

Gert slowly opens her eyes and he’s staring right at her, a mix between kicked puppy and hopeful.

They are close. Close as they have been since the dance.

Close enough that if she angles her head just slightly, they would be with in kissing distance.

Chase glances at her lips, and then then his eyes dip to her collar before scanning their way back to to her eyes.

She licks her lips.

His mouth is soft and solid against hers, and he wraps his free hand around her waist, and then suddenly they are vertical. They’ve done this once, rushed and hurried in the back room of the dance venue without a lock on the door, but she’s memorized the way his hands follows the line of her spine, and how he kisses her with feeling, with purpose, like this is something they’ve been leading up to for eternities.

She pulls back when his hand tangles with the bottom of her sweater. She’s breathless and feels like she might be on fire. Chase’s eyes are wide and his cheeks are pink, and she wants to kiss him forever.

But she can’t.

“This okay?” He asks, his hand frozen at the edge of her shirt, not moving until she gives the okay. And he’s so good. Respectful and adoring, and willing to do what she wants, and she can’t do this.

Not when they are on the run and tomorrow isn’t guaranteed and their parents may be in a murderous cult, and she hasn’t had a proper shower in way too long, and she has to be worried about surviving, about hiding, about Molly, about her dinosaur, about her friends.

She can’t add possibly dating Chase Stein into the mix. No matter how much she wants too. No matter how much her heart aches when she thinks of leaving when she knows where his hands could be in the next few minutes. When she knows she could just say yes, things are great and go back to kissing him.

For once in her life, she wants to do what her heart tells her, not her mind. But for possibly the first time in her life, doing that could be catastrophic. And they’ve had enough catastrophe for a life time.

“I don’t think I can handle anything more than friends at the current moment.” She says, more of a whisper than words, but he’s close enough that he hears her.

Something flashes over his face, but it’s gone in an instant, and his hand disappears from her waist and lightly dances along her cheek.

“I’m good with friends.”

Something tugs at her heart, and she presses her forehead against his. “What about friends who on occasion kiss each other because they need to get their sexual frustration out of their systems.”

“Whatever definition of friends you are comfortable with.” He smiles at her, and catches her mouth again, softer this time, without the tension from before. “Dating is so heteronormative anyway.”

“Do you even know what that means?” She asks, laughing.

“Not really. But you sounded really passionate about it when you said it.” Chase shakes his head, but he’s smiling, and she’s smiling, and for a few minutes, her brain isn’t screaming about what’s wrong with the world.

“I can explain it to you.” She promises, but Gert’s pushing herself off the bed and away from him. “Another time. I have a dinosaur in desperate need of a pillow”

Chase’s hand looks like it’s going to reach out to her, but he drops it back to his side. “Wouldn’t want Old Lace to get angry with me, now would we.”

Gert shakes her head and curls her arms around herself, much like she did early in the evening, but she’s not hiding anymore. She’s cold from the sudden lack of Chase Stein around her. But he’s smiling at her. Wide and dimpled and his mouth is still slightly bruised, and his cheeks are still a little red, and she really needs to leave before she climbs back on top of him and takes back everything she said about being just friends.

“Good night, Chase.” She says instead, forcing her feet to move toward the door.

“Night, Gert.”

She loves how he says her name. Like it holds millions of possibilities and tomorrows and forevers. Like it is everything in the universe.

She’s smiling like an idiot when she slips back into her room. Old Lace raises her head in question, but Gert just pats her head before collapsing on the bed.

She’s stupid happy. Comfortable. Possibly a little bit in love.

Old Lace nudges her knee and Gert stuffs her face into her pillow, replaying the good parts of the night over and over in her head.

Her hands have stopped shaking.

[kinsbin]

Jealousy

Title: Jealousy Word Count:  2089 Ship: Dale/Alexys [Canon/Self Insert]

Summary: Alexys and Dale have been friends ever since they had escaped the horrors of the cannibal backwoods of Virginia together. Spending so much time together, Dale slowly begins to realize he has feelings for her. It only takes one asshole at a bar to confirm it.

Author’s Note: A writing comm for @bad-blue-moon-rising! I ALMOST FORGOT TO POST IT BC I GOT SO BUSY WITH CHRISTMAS STUFF BUT! Ilu Alexys here u go <3

Her time away from home had been...enlightening.

The troubles of life were far from nonexistent, of course, but Alexys counted herself lucky in more ways than one. She had survived a forest filled of terrifying cannibals who made it a game to hunt her down like game on their own personal reserve. In that process, she had also garnered a close friend in the form of ex-marine veteran Dale. The man had stuck by her side since they first met in the dark, terrifying forest a night before being attacked by the cannibals yet again from either side. With his help, though, she had escaped. He had too. They had both crawled out of the forest that fateful night clinging to one another for dear life, but alive and kicking nonetheless. She could remember it in pieces only, though. Of holding onto his arm as he helped drag her through the mud. Of arriving at the nearby town and being taken in by the police. Of whispers on how it was alright. How he’d protect her. How, in the moment of panic, he had promised to keep her safe. How, in her own moment, she had been desperate to believe him.

He hadn’t failed in the promise so far, though, and for that she could only admire the man. After their anxiety had passed for the evening, he took her to his hometown not a few miles out of the town they had managed to find sanctuary in. He offered his home to her, a spare bed in an inn close to his home so that she could be sure he was only a phone call away. It had given her comfort where she thought there would be none. Rather than being tossed onto the street to fend for herself in a world that was now, perhaps, a bit too terrifying and full of nightmares for her to be comfortable with, he stuck by her side. He kept himself close and, with it, kept their friendship strong.

Alexys hadn’t expected to move into the same town as Dale, the small apartment she had rented only for a short while with his help soon turning into a full time lease and then longer with her approval of a job at the local diner...But was how things had happened. The world, she had learned, was full of surprises certainly.

“You good, kid?”

Dale’s voice startled her out of her train of thought as she gripped the tumblr of drink tight between her fingertips, turning to face him with wide blue eyes. His own eyes matched hers with patient expectancy, his own grip wrapped loosely around his second beer of the night. In the low light of the bar they were at, his hair sparkled silver like a halo around his face. Biting her lip, Alexys smiled and gave a coy shrug while touching at the rim of her glass. It was filled mostly with virgin bloody mary mix, the alcohol taste an annoying sting in the back of her throat if nothing else.

“Fine,” She murmured, “I was just thinking…”

“What about?”

“How I first moved in and started living here...How you helped me settle in and all that which-” She held up a finger at him warningly, “I’m still totally going to pay you back for and-”

“Alexys,” Dale’s groan sounded almost like a half chuckle, “We’ve been through this. You don’t owe me anything.”

“But-!” She had begun to protest with a soft whine in her tone, but a stern look from Dale had her biting her lip softly instead. He had always been able to do that, ever since they had first met. One fierce and capable look between the two of them and Alexys couldn’t help but relent to him, shutting her mouth from the argument in favor of playing with the tumblr that her drink came in with a pout. Hair was brushed behind her ear again as she mumbled, “You should at least let me pay you back for the down payment…”

A hand reached out, ruffling her hair and making her jump in surprise. Dale stood up as he let his hand rest on her head, his smile turning warm again as he nudged her, “We’ve been through hell together, kid. We almost got our arms ripped off, respectively, by asshole cannibals and you still worry about shit like paying me back for something like an apartment? When I was friends with the landlord for 15 years?” His laugh was warm and hearty, filled with hospitality and the beers he had sipped at with her at his side.

“I’m not making fun of you,” he added softly, “It’s a good quality to have, just, don’t worry about it with me.I’m just happy you’re alive enough to even think about things like that.”

His words softened her heart and allowed a nod of her head to him. She took a sip of her drink as he mumbled something about using the bathroom, words she couldn’t hear against the thrumming of the bar music as he left her alone. Alexys took a breath to try and control her anxiety, hands stretching against her own glass as she took another sip and shut her eyes, sighing as she tried to recollet her thoughts and opinions of the evening out. Drinking wasn’t her thing, but, Dale insisted it would be an amusing enough place without the need for alcohol. The fact that they offered virgin drinks was a good sign, at least, and she had found her eyes wandering to the televisions on either side of the bar more than once. The atmosphere was...homey. It matched the warmth of the town they lived in. She couldn’t say that she disliked it. She COULD say that, maybe, she would pick their hangout place next time they needed a night of friend time.

A hand set itself dangerously close to her form, sending her jumping out of her brief soiree of thought. Alexys looked up, expecting to see Dale having returned from his excursion. Instead, her stomach dropped at the man at her side. A stranger she had not seen before whose outfit gave him the appearance of a trucker who had just rolled into town. His sneer was just as ugly as his eyes, not in color but in intent, as they bored into her. Their fierceness made Alexys cringe back without realizing it, her body reflexively bringing the drink closer to her body to help make herself as small as possible.

“Aw, relax now little lady,” The guy laughed with amusement, “I don’t bite much, promise. Just saw you sittin’ here alone and thought you could use some company.”

“Uh,” She swallowed as the man took the stool Dale had been previously occupying, finding the space less than pleasant now with the stranger eyeing her with what only could be described as slight hunger in his eyes, “A-Actually um...That seat’s kinda...taken and...m-me and my friend are-He’s-”

“He?” The stranger snorted, breaking the personal space between them further, “I promise you, I can be way more fun than that friend of yours, cutie. You want to grab a drink with me and blow this place or something? I could give you a ride in my semi, she’s a real beauty. I don’t make the offer to any old girl.”

As he pushed himself closer, Dale exited the restroom with little on his mind. His eyes locked with the scene before him and he felt a strong sense of...anger? Frustration? ...Jealousy? Burning within his stomach like someone had struck a match that made his heartbeat fast and his pulse rise with every passing moment. The sound of the music was drowned out by the sound of his anger as it boiled and frothed in the corners of his mind, teeth gritting together so hard he felt himself slowly gain a toothache from the effort. Dale barely felt his feet move as he all but stalked up to the two talking, the force of his appearance parting the sea of people in the bar with ease.

A hand flew up onto the other man’s shoulder, yanking him back so that he faced Dale.

“Yo, dude,” The guy’s voice was angry as he was moved away, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

He glared at Dale and stood straight, the two men equaly as tall as one another. The room felt supercharged as they held eyes, like two bulls refusing to back down from a fight.

“Rejoining my friend back in MY seat,” Dale growled darkly, “Best you move along, don’t you think?”

“Come on now,” He shrugged, “We were just having a friendly chat, weren’t we darlin?”

Alexys swallowed and shook her head no as fast as possible, moving out of her seat to rush behind Dale, who glared darkly at the man before him. The man gritting his teeth, fists clenching as he watched Alexys run. Unsavory words filtered from his mouth and, well, to be honest Dale can’t remember who flew the first punch. Most said it was the stranger, so angry with not getting the girl in the end that he dared try to punch the well known ex-marine in the face. Dale only remembered the blood on his knuckles at the end of it and the slowly growing bruise on his cheek that resulted from a decently-aimed hit.

He remembered helping escort the other man out of the bar, kicking him out as he yelled not to come back. The other running with his tail between his legs like a godfearing coward.

Alexys touched his arm, making him flinch before looking down at her.

Her gaze was so soft. So worried for him as she moved him back to the side of a bar no one was using, the bartender passing them pieces of gauze and bandages and alcohol (both for rubbing and for drinking) before going on his way. “Here,” Alexys murmured, “Let me help.”

He didn’t stop her as she dabbed the disinfectant on his cheek. He didn’t flinch as he leaned into her touch, grows furrowing as he watched her own concentrated face. “Why?” Her question was soft.

“Why what?”

“Why did you punch that guy for me? It was...pretty stupid, honestly. You could have just taken him down without hurting his nose like that.”

“Guy deserved to be as ugly as he was inside.”

“That’s all the reason?”

It wasn’t accusatory, rather, curious as she finished cleaning off his cheek, moving to the bruises on his knuckles and dried blood of the other man that she dabbed carefully away. Dale watched in silence, not answering as he began to think himself. Why had he gotten so angry? So jealous when he saw the man just...sitting with her? Just seeing her even being looked at by that guy -buy any guy he realized- made him sick to his stomach. He stared at her hands and how small they were compared to his as she held it close to her chest.

He wanted to be the one whose hand she was always holding…

The thought clicked into place in his brain. The final peace of a puzzle falling from hands to table as all of the light faded out of the bar only to focus on her. On her beautiful eyes. The way she bit her lip as she concentrated. How she brushed her hair back when she spoke to him, the smile always faint and lined on her lips when he made a joke. How she was so perfectly, irrevocably, beautifully HER that it made his chest tight just seeing her. HOlding her. Wanting to hold her more.

“Because I-”

The words caught in his throat as she looked up, doe eyed and soft as he inhaled sharply. He let it out in a sigh, face peppered with red.

“I didn’t like seeing you that uncomfortable. You know I always have your back.”

She smiled at him and his heart fluttered. She laughed as they continued to talk, tension fading as she cleaned him up and she scolded him as he did. His heart...hurt for some reason. A vast hurt centered in his stomach as he withheld his true reasoning. A vast adoration at how beautiful she looked at his side.

Confessions, he supposed, could wait a night longer. For now he just wanted to watch. To see just how damn beautiful she was like this...Like always.

More than a bruise was punched into him that night...and, to be honest, Dale was pretty okay with it.

[sleepyverstappens]

Dancing Through Life (10/?)

Title: Dancing Through Life

Pairing: Aaron Dingle/Robert Sugden

Rating: M

Warnings (New warnings in italics): Canonical Character Death, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Non-Graphic Violence, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Panic Attack(s), Coming Out

Summary:  Two boys, stuck in a small village in the Yorkshire Dales, until they found their unlikely way out, through ballet and each other.

A/N:  I am so sorry for leaving this so long. I kinda got distracted by writing dryan fic (pls go read them if you're into dryan fic and you haven't already) and just really struggled with writing this fic in general. So yeah sorry for the 2 month wait on updates. I hope I will get another chapter up quicker this time, but once again nothing is written for it yet so it might still be a while, though hopefully shorter than this time around.Anyway I hope you enjoy this chapter, turns out I actually had quite a bit of it written for ages already, oops.

(Read on AO3)

(Chapter 1) (Chapter 2) (Chapter 3) (Chapter 4) (Chapter 5) (Chapter 6) (Chapter 7) (Chapter 8) (Chapter 9)

Chapter 10: 

Robert is walking towards the cafeteria for his lunch – Saturdays having a later start meaning he doesn’t have time to go out for lunch like usual- when he hears it. There’s music coming from one of the smaller dance studios, but not the piano music he’s used to hearing come from all directions, no it sounds like it’s coming from a phone, something with actual lyrics. Curiosity piqued he walks over to the door that’s slightly opened and looks inside. What he finds is not what he was expecting. A sole figure is dancing to the music. Aaron.

Aaron seems to be lost in the music, moving to it easily. It’s mesmerizing, seeing him dance so freely, movements not perfectly measured out like in performances, but by no means sloppy. Robert slips into the dance studio and let’s himself sink down to the floor quietly, but Aaron doesn’t seem to notice him anyway, looking right through him as he turns to be faced towards Robert. Robert looks at the other man in awe, his muscles flexing with every new move and beads of sweat are glistening on his skin, but it’s the way he’s dancing that really amazes Robert. He doesn’t recognise the song that’s coming from the phone that’s lying on the ground in front of the mirrored wall, but Aaron’s dancing translates the emotion in the song perfectly.

The song ends and the room is engulfed in silence for a few seconds until the phone switches onto the next song before Aaron can turn it off. It’s then that he notices Robert sat on the floor mere centimetres from the door.

“Robert?”

“Wow, that was amazing.”

“What are you doing here Robert?” Aaron asked, ignoring Robert’s compliment.

Robert shakes himself from the lingering feeling of awe and focusses on what Aaron is asking. “Was on my way to lunch when I heard music. I couldn’t stop staring when I noticed it was you, sorry.”

“’s fine,” Aaron mumbled, his already flushed face not able to hide the blush that seems to creep up at Robert’s words.

“Where did that come from?” Robert asked, he’d never seen the younger man dance like that. Sure he always danced amazing, but he seemed so free, not worried about making mistakes or getting the timing perfect.

“Just needed to get out of my head, dancing helps,” Aaron mumbled again, trying to shrug it off, but Robert wouldn’t let him this time.

“Why’d you need to get out of your head?” He was trying to make an effort, get to know Aaron and maybe build this tentative friendship they had, into something more.

Aaron shrugged but wouldn’t meet Robert’s eye anymore and the penny dropped. It was him, Robert was the thing that was bothering Aaron.

“Me?” he questioned.      

Aaron stayed quiet, eyes still firmly fixed onto the studio floor. He looked so small all of a sudden, shoulders hunched up defensively. Robert reached out slowly and gently placed his hand on Aaron’s chin, making sure Aaron was looking at him as he spoke next.

“Come on Aaron, I can’t help if I don’t know what’s bothering you. I want to help.”

Aaron’s eyes flicked over his face, emotion swirling in them. He was biting at his bottom lip nervously before he opened his mouth as if to speak, but it wasn’t words that came out because before he knew it Robert felt lips press against his. He kissed back for a second, couldn’t not, but he knew he had to stop it, knew this wouldn’t help the situation, would only further complicate things.  

He pulled back with a sigh, “Wait.”

“See this is what I mean,” Aaron said frowning.

And before Robert even had time to process what Aaron meant by that, Aaron had pulled away and grabbed his bag and phone from the floor making his way towards the exit.

“What? Aaron wait!” Robert called out after the younger man. But Aaron just kept walking, now making his way through the long corridor towards he locker rooms.

“Aaron! Aaron come on! Aaron!” Robert called out again, now running after Aaron.

The locker room door slammed in his face, but he burst right in anyway adamant to finally talk to Aaron and get this mess sorted out.

“Don’t walk away from me!”

“Feels shit doesn’t it?!” Aaron bellowed back.

“What?”

“Feels shit getting shut out doesn’t it? Getting walked away from? Now you know how I’ve felt the last couple of weeks Robert, because all you seem to be able to do is walk away.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh come on Robert, don’t be daft. You kissed me, not me, you and then you immediately backed off, saying you can’t do this, when it was you that started it.”

“Well-”

“No, don’t. I’m trying to explain, give you that explanation you so dearly wanted from me, right?” Aaron said frustration clear on his face, so Robert backed off holding up his hands for him to continue. “And then in the pub you’re right back at it again, playing right along with this little game we were playing. That wasn’t backing off Robert, you were clearly into it just as much otherwise you wouldn’t have followed me into the bogs, would’ve stayed with your friend or left for another pub, but you didn’t. And then I don’t hear from you again.”

Aaron huffed out a breath, eyes flicking across Robert’s face as if to gauge his reaction. It doesn’t feel like he’s done yet though, so Robert keeps quiet, lets him gather his thoughts and get it all out. They’d been heading towards this for a long time now, needed to clear the air and get both of their intentions straight.

After a minute of silence that seemed to stretch for ages Aaron finally speaks up again.

“Right, so then back at work you ignore the hell out of me, so I think well I guess nothing’s going to happen. And like okay that sucked, but it happens ya know. But then there you go again, on the day before opening night of all days. And then it’s right back to ignoring me the next day.”

Robert tries to speak up then, because he wasn’t ignoring Aaron, not really he was just trying to focus on the premier of the show.

“I know, I know you were just trying to focus on the show. I know, so was I, but still that was opening day, you didn’t bring it back up after that either. And then we go out with Vic and Adam. And we had fun, right?” Robert nods. “And then you kiss me, right in front of them. So I just don’t know what to do with you anymore, you’re hot one minute than cold the next. And now you’re right back to cold again it seems,” Aaron said with a frustrated groan.

“Aaron no, no that wasn’t why I pulled away just now.”

Aaron looks up at him unsure, “Why then?”

“Aaron, ugh, we’ve made a right mess of things haven’t we. God Aaron, I want you okay, I really do, but we’ve been doing this all backwards. And I just… I just want this to be more than a fling that will ruin our friendship afterwards. Everything’s been going so fast, I just want to give this, us, a proper go. Take you out on a date, get to really know ya, see if there’s more than just the physical to this. And I’m sorry I’ve made you feel like I was stringing you along this whole time, I know it must’ve felt shit, but I wanted to be sure. And I think I am now,” Robert said wistfully.

A number of emotions crossed Aaron’s face as Robert talked. Confusion, hope, relieve and back to hope.

“So, was that you asking me out on a date then?” Aaron said cheekily, eyes glinting playfully.  

Robert chuckled. “Guess I am. What about tomorrow around 7? I know just the place, I’ll come pick you up,” he said with a hopeful look on his face. He meant what he said to Aaron, he really just wanted to give them a proper go.  

“Seven sounds alright. Do I get any hints on where we’re going? Any dress code?”

“Nope. And something smart casual will be fine, don’t worry about it I have come to know you over the last couple of weeks.”

“You calling me a slob?”

Robert shook his head with a fond smile, “I’ll see you tomorrow at 7.”

 ---

 He’s fidgeting with the buttons of his coat as he waits for Aaron to open the door. He had stopped himself from standing in front of the house without ringing the doorbell, pressing the button before any doubts could settle in. Now though he was starting to worry he’d pressed the wrong button, was in front of the wrong house altogether or if Aaron had stood him up, because the door was still firmly closed. He’s about to press the button to ring again when the door is pulled open. It’s not Aaron though. Adam is grinning at him, giving him a once over without saying anything.

“Uhm?” Robert said.

“Aaron! Robert’s here!” Adam bellows up the stairs.

He hears a door slam closed before heavy steps can be heard thundering down the stairs. “I told you I’d get it Ads.”

“You were taking ages though, can’t have him standing outside in the cold now, can we?” Adam said, grin still plastered on his face. But Robert’s gaze is quickly diverted from the smiling man as Aaron reaches the end of the stairs. He can’t help the way his jaw drops at the sight of him. He’s wearing a red jumper, paired with a burgundy jacket, a pair of dark jeans and brown leather boots. His hair is styled with just a little bit of product to leave him with a mop of beautifully shiny curls and his beard is trimmed slightly. He looks stunning and no one should blame Robert when he zones out of the conversation Adam and Aaron seem to be having.

“You look amazing.” The words leave his mouth before he can stop them. Aaron grins over at him, fidgeting with the zipper of his jacket as he takes Robert in. He hears Adam mutter something about taking forever as he walks away, but he ignores the other man’s retreating form in favour of Aaron.

“So do you,” Aaron muttered back, eyes still lingering on the bit of Robert’s skin that was visible under the open collar of his long coat.

“You ready to go then?”

Aaron patted his pockets to make sure he had his wallet and keys before nodding his assent.

He hears the cabbie mutter something about them taking forever, but ignores him as they settle into the back of the cab. As both of them lived in the middle of London neither of them had their own car. He could have walked over to Aaron and Adam’s house, but the restaurant he had decided to take Aaron to was quite far from either of their houses and he didn’t want to have to wait on a cab.

“So where are you taking me to?” Aaron asked as the car pulled away from the curb.

“You do know how surprises work right,” Robert grinned back at him. He had given the cabbie the address of the restaurant before they had gotten to Aaron’s to avoid the other man finding out where they were going. He had found a steakhouse that was just fancy enough for a date, but not too fancy to put Aaron off.

The restaurant was about a 15 minute drive away, just on the edge of Hyde park and they fell into an easy conversation as they drove there. Aaron was complaining about Adam trying to give him shit advice for their date and that he would only stop if Aaron asked Robert about what Victoria had said about him. Adam clearly already smitten with Robert’s sister after only spending a few hours with her.

He told Aaron that Victoria hadn’t been able to stop gushing about Adam either and that she regretted not giving Adam her number. So that’s how he ended up rattling off Victoria’s number to Aaron so that he could text it to Adam whilst they were driving to the restaurant. Maybe it gave his sister even more reason to move to London and start that culinary course she had been thinking about for years now.

Time seemed to fly by because before they knew it the cab pulled over in front of the restaurant. Grosvener House spelled out in big letters at the front of the building.

“You’re not actually expecting me to stay in a hotel with you on our first date right?” Aaron said jokingly.

“No, just the restaurant. I wouldn’t just presume, even when we’ve already done… stuff,” Robert said gesturing vaguely. “I hope you like steak though, because we’re going to the JW Steakhouse that’s also here.”

“Love it.”

 ---

 As they entered the restaurant a blonde woman offered to take their coats after Robert had given her his name. He wasn’t prepared for what Robert was hiding under his coat. His coat already looked amazing, but as the rest of his outfit was revealed Aaron had to put serious effort into not letting his jaw drop. Robert was wearing tight dark wash jeans that did wonders for him, showing off his arse nicely. A pale pink dress shirt that fit him perfectly was tucked into them tightly and paired with a navy tie. It was understated, but looked stunning on Robert. He’d only ever seen Robert in casual sportswear and a smart suit on their opening night, but this was the perfect middle ground.  

Aaron looked around the restaurant in awe as a waiter lead them towards their table. Over the years at the Royal Ballet he had been invited to some really fancy restaurants, but this was something else. It wasn’t that it was overly fancy, like he may have expected from Robert. No it was just the right amount of fancy, elegant but not gaudy. As they were lead towards their table he noticed the big blackboard that spanned the entire left hand wall of the restaurant, the menu printed on it in bold white letters. And another wall showed off an extensive selection of liquor.

He gulped slightly at the prices of the steaks as they were handed their menus, debating whether he should just go for a cheaper burger instead, but Robert was quick to tell him to pick whatever he wanted no matter the cost. He tried to argue, but the other man seemed adamant to pay for tonight’s meal. ‘I asked you out Aaron, I’ll pay.’ Robert told him, effectively closing the discussion.  

The restaurant was bustling with noise as almost every table was booked, with some other people still waiting at the bar. Their drinks were placed in front of them quickly. Aaron had pulled a face at Robert suggestion of some special wine, so a pint of beer was set in front of him instead, while Robert got a glass of his wine instead of a bottle to share.

Conversation flowed easily between them. They laugh about the horrible teachers they had both had at the Royal Ballet School, most of Robert’s teachers had still been there when Aaron was in school. Robert talks about his time in Paris when Aaron asks about it, because while he is happy at the Royal Ballet it’s interesting to hear about Robert’s experience at another company.

Robert seems reluctant to talk about his family, he mostly talks about Victoria, though he does mention his adoptive brother and step-mum. He really hasn’t been back home for a long time though, as he barely seems to know anything about them, only having found out about his step-mum after his father had died. Robert’s backstory is intriguing, but he seems to keep it locked away tightly so Aaron is already happy with what he knows.

They talk about his family as well, how most of them are still in Emmerdale though his mum swears there’s family in Ireland as well. He’s never been there so he just has to take her word for it. He tells Robert about how he tries to go back to Emmerdale whenever big family events are happening. How he had feared throwing up on the train back home two days after his cousins wedding, because he had drank so much.

Time seems to fly as the chat and indulge in the delicious food that is brought out and Aaron can’t seem to stop smiling. It’s nice, nice to be out on a date again. He hadn’t really been on a date since Brian, the few hook-ups he had had not involving any dating. So yes this is nice, he thinks to himself as he listens to Robert go on about something or other.  

 ---

 “Why did you think this was a good idea? It’s March, it’s still freezing outside and you expected an ice cream shop to be open?”

“I was trying to be romantic and spontaneous and we still got ice cream!” Robert exclaimed.

“Yeah from a freaking gas station, you’re lucky I like Cornetto’s,” Aaron laughed as he licked at his ice cream. They had decided to walk through Hyde Park as they ate their desserts, foregoing a dessert at the restaurant in favour of a treat from an ice cream shop might not have been Robert’s smartest decision, but walking through the park together was nice.

There were still quite a few people in the park, despite the late hour and cold, but then this was London and there were always people milling about. Their shoulders bumped into each other as they walked, both of them having moved closer to the other as they walked.

“You’ve got a little…” Robert gestured at Aaron’s chin where a smudge of chocolate sat. He knew it was a cliché rom-com move but when Aaron wiping at his chin didn’t remove the smudge he leaned in to get it. “Let me get it for ya,” he whispered as he went to wipe at the smudge with his thumb. He heard Aaron’s breath catch as he softly wiped at his chin. Their eyes met and the rest of the world seemed to fall away as he lost himself in Aaron’s eyes and before he knew it he was leaning in, pressing his lips against Aaron’s. Aaron let out a little whimper before he was kissing back with fervour.

He let out a hiss as Aaron’s ice cold hands found his neck, fingers digging into the back of his head as he pulled him in closer. His lips were warm and soft though, and his tongue was a hot wetness as it swiped over Robert’s lips. His mouth fell open on a gasp, his own tongue soon connecting with Aaron’s.

They kissed for a long time, cold noses warming up as they rubbed against each other. But they were pulled out of their trance as someone loudly huffed at them to get out of the pathway. The broke apart, foreheads resting against each other as they grinned at each other, the stranger giving up on them and moving around them through the grass with another loud huff. Neither of them could keep in the laughs that fell from their lips as the rest of the world come back into focus. The rhythmic fall of feet as a runner walked by them, the laughter coming from a group of teenagers further down the path, the rush of cars in the distance.

“Let’s get warmed up,” Robert said as he grabbed Aaron’s hand, pulling him towards the parks exit to hail a cab. A cab back to his place, because he definitely wasn’t ready to let go of Aaron just yet.    

[loveinpanem-blog]

Speechless

by @titaniasfics

Rated M

Canon compliant. Between the end of MJ and the Epilogue. Just a touch of magical realism.

Inspired by this Visual Prompt: X (slightly nsfw) . Written for Love in Panem’s Spring Showers April Challenge.

Autor’s note: I had a conversation once with @madamemarquise in which we discussed how vocal Everlark smut was in some fics (including my own). It gave me the idea of writing a smut drabble with no dialogue. Being “speechless,” the piece emerged as somewhat surreal, so that Katniss’s thoughts take on a “real” life of their own, hence the magical realism. Hope you enjoy!

Thanks to everyone who read and beta’d this - @eala-musings, @madamemarquise, @akai-echo, @mega-aulover and @thegirlfromoverthepond . You ladies are the best!

Katniss woke to a house in silence. Stretching languidly, she found herself in a tangle of bed sheets and pillows, now mostly cool where her skin did not touch them. When she turned her head into the pillow, she could smell both of them on it. Everywhere she slid her hand along the rumpled mattress cover, she recalled each kiss, each sigh, each grunt and thrust they’d battered each other with the night before. It had been a long night, but the memory of it made her body sing again.

She slid two fingers between her folds, still sticky from their exertions and nearly gave herself over to the fantasy of Peeta inside of her again, rubbing himself along those same folds, making her delirious with want again, but she pulled back. It was all too much, and she needed to give herself a chance to breathe.

The house was empty - Peeta had left early to work in the bakery, though how he could bear to do so after the night they’d had was beyond her.  He had always been so strong, so steady, but the last year since his return to District 12, he’d not only healed physically, the calm, post-war life had allowed him to finish his development. He was more man than boy. He no longer carried his youth in the slightly rounded cheeks or stocky figure from the Reaping. It was as if a layer of him had been burned away by time and circumstance, beneath which hid a fully-formed man.

She suspected she must have changed too. She felt herself more substantial, though always on the petite side. Her musculature had developed, she’d grown two inches and her curves had filled out. She had something that resembled cleavage though she’d never be a buxom woman. Her hips were no longer angular but rounded and smooth. Peeta said he loved the changes, said he loved her. It took her so long to believe him. Those words of adoration never failed to thrill her.

She went to the bathroom instead, relieved and cleaned herself but could not tear herself away from the bed. She crawled onto it again and spread out on her back, now prickling from the contact with the cool blankets. When the spot had become warm, she rested on her elbows, glancing around the sun-dappled room until her gaze fell on the pale green envelope propped against a mug on the end table. Katniss reached across, the breeze from the window Peeta always left open ruffling the hairs that escaped her loose ponytail. She grasped the envelope and pulled it to her, opening the lip. Inside was a simple card with a note scrawled in cursive writing. Katniss smiled as she read it.

The night was made for loving you,

And the day for missing you.

I will carry the taste of you on my lips.

-P

Katniss sighed, her head dropping back as the warmth of his words and the memory of the mouth that spoke them, washed over her. When she thought she might drown in a sea of want she shook herself and pulled the mug of tea towards her, setting aside the small plate that Peeta had used for a cover to keep the dark, slightly sweetened liquid warm.

She sipped, staring out of the window. It was the kind of day the old Katniss loved. The kind of day she loved again - fresh, bright, full of new things. The dallying breeze carried the smell of life springing up around them. Katniss glanced down at herself, tracing the webbing of scars that pranced and danced across her body. For a moment, they glowed in the sunlight light and she thought, if it had been night, she would no longer be Katniss, but a map of the Milky Way. Or Orion, and her love would be the bear she forever hunted.

For once, she did not rush to cover herself.  In that moment, she saw what Peeta claimed to see when he looked at her - shiny, olive skin, smooth where the fire hadn’t licked it into puckered ridges. Her legs, largely untouched, were long and defined from a lifetime of climbing boulders and trees. She had a brief flashback of them, wrapped around Peeta’s undulating hips and brought the cup to her lips to quell the heat that threatened to scald her raw.

She couldn’t stop her thoughts from flying to him, now in the bakery, strong arms kneading bread until the muscles rippled and bulged in his forearms - a coordinated dance of power sinking relentlessly into the soft, tender bread dough. She saw his irresistibly sweet smile as he served customers, the clever words that fell from his full lips. There was a twinkle in his eyes when he told Iris and Dale to hold down the fort for a couple of hours.

She watched him drop his apron on the desk in the back office, slip out the back door to the narrow alley behind the shop, and walk as quickly as his prosthetic allowed up the winding, tree-lined road that led to Victor’s Village. The columns on either side were destroyed but at least the rubble had long since been cleared away.

He took the front stairs slowly, fumbling with the single key on the imposing front door, the one that opened every lock in the house. The sound of metal against metal slid through the voluminously empty space of the entryway - wasted space, in Katniss’s opinion, but the Capitol had never been pragmatic when it came to such things.

Katniss’s heart began to pound when his uneven steps thumped dully as he took to the stairs. The rough rhythm of his steps beat in time with her heart, the percussion radiating along the floorboards of the landing as he approached with a steady but undeterred tempo.  

She glanced over her shoulder when the door creaked open and was not surprised when his bulk filled the doorway. She did not even stop to question how she knew - she just did. He stepped towards the bed, standing at the foot, watching where she still rested on her elbows, half-drunk tea trembling dangerously in the cup.

He had taken to wearing suspenders lately, and now slipped them off of his shoulders. He held her gaze as he tugged the t-shirt off over his head and undid his pants, ridding himself of both pants and underwear with one, smooth motion. Katniss watched quietly, sipping the cooling tea, her bent knees swaying slightly in unison - left-right-left-right, like two thin skyscrapers sweeping against a blue sky.

He stood naked before her, the sun from the window behind him illuminating his outline, golden and healthy. Gone were the ghosts and shadows from his eyes. His own scars gouged rivulets of violent memories across his skin, a striking contrast to the taut, fair skin around them. His blond hairs lifted gently in the breeze as he knelt at the foot of the bed and crawled between her casually bent legs. Katniss gripped her cup harder as he left languid kisses along the inside of her thighs. When he reached her heated core, he leaned back on his haunches and, with a sly smile that told her he understood everything, took the endangered cup from her, setting it back on the table where he’d left it.

He leaned forward and brushed his lips lightly against hers before he returned to his original position between her thighs. He spread her legs wide, causing her to a gasp, but still, she did not speak. She felt the tip of his thick, baker’s fingers run the length of her slit, tickling her lips with featherlike strokes as if he were painting his next work on her most intimate places.  Katniss grasped the edge of a bed sheet and curled it in her fist, trying not to melt into a puddle of aching desire before his eyes. She wanted this to last as long as she could stand it.

Assiduously, he continued his play until he slipped a finger inside of her. Katniss dropped her head back onto the bed, nondescript sounds of pleasure falling from her lips, moans that were at once familiar and foreign to her ears.  She had no words - she had never been one to chatter - and she wanted her every last sense focused on that thing he was doing to her.

When he had teased her to mindlessness, he lowered his head and licked her - one long, hot stroke that caused her to arch her back, pressing her heels down into the mattress. He placed an arm over her belly to keep her still and blew gently on her - warm breath pouring like lava over her tender flesh.  Without warning, he slipped his tongue inside of her, melting her from the inside out. She watched his head move and bob, switching back and forth in time with his strokes, and panted harder at the sight. If anyone had told her even a year ago that this would be the way she’d dream of being taken by him - with his mouth and fingers and tongue - she would have died of horror and embarrassment.

Now she died a little each time he pulled away. She grasped his hair, tugging him, provoking a chuckle from him that reverberated up her belly and down her bucking legs. He curled his lips, sucking gently on her swollen nub of desire, prodding her wordlessly with the insistent pressing of tongue and lips against her until she felt that now familiar swelling. She became a musical note that he sang without sound into the highest chords until the piano slammed down on all the keys and catapulted her to a place without coherence. Words were a meaningless impediment when there were hands to touch and skin to stroke, and she shattered with a long keening that cascaded into deep moans and shudders of pleasure.

They both panted, her from her rising, him from his labors. He wiped in lips as he watched the spectacle of her returning to herself, the thousands of expressions that she would never see, who she became before she ended in a heaping mass of boneless flesh.  He licked her trembling skin, from the swirling vortex of her bellybutton to the proud, erect nipples of her breasts, swollen with anticipation for him. He devoured her there too as she slid her hands down his body and grasped his shaft. His eyes, closed as he suckled on her, flickered open, holding hers. She didn’t blink as she stroked him, coaxing him to her.

His tongue ran jagged lines along her neck and shoulders, nicking the ridges of her scars with the tip. Still, she stroked, eliciting grunts from him that he let land on the place where her neck connected to her shoulder until it was her impatience that impelled her to push him onto his back.  She kissed him then, an open mouth kiss that caused her mouth to be flooded with her own taste. She would never have dreamed such a thing was possible, even the first time he tried to kiss her. But she had another mind when she was with him, became another person who did things that her modesty would have deemed unspeakable.

She kissed and stroked him, then broke off suddenly to lave his skin, all flushed and pink from his own feverish desire. She learned not long ago that he loved it when she kissed his nipples and so she did, following his lead, swirling her tongue over them, drawing them out, nipping at the tender skin around them. His skin beckoned and she traveled further, over the taut expanse of his stomach, teeth and kisses marking the trajectory lower, beyond the path of golden hairs that grew darker and curlier. From this thick forest he rose, twitching and hard. As if he had not been inside of her only a few hours earlier.  As if he had never had her.

Without the teasing artifice he had shown her, she engulfed the tip and took him in her mouth as far as she could. The air became noisy with his groans, the sound of her mouth on him, the wet suction and release as she moved over him. His heavy breathing and indistinct sounds gave her courage, making her bolder, faster until he pushed her gently away, his thumb lingering lovingly on her chin.

She held those smouldering blue eyes in her gaze as she undid the clasp of his prosthetic, kissing the damp skin that was revealed with the unrolling of the sleeve. She heard his sigh of relief - he told her once how much he loved the moment when he could relinquish this relic of their violent past, the reminder of the thing they took that he would never get back. He felt more whole when he did not have his false limb.

She climbed over him, still holding his gaze. It was intense and surreal in this way - both rendered speechless by the enormity, the wonder of this moment, by the fact that there was no reason they should have survived what they did and be here together, alive and greedy for each other’s touch. But here they were. After months of hesitation and shyness, they had abandoned the unspoken rules they had absorbed from a repressed society and given themselves to the other with an abandonment that bordered on madness.

She approached his face and kissed him, staring at him until her eyes crossed and she was forced to close her eyes. She ground her core against his and, with a deft shift of hands and hips, she sank down onto him until their pelvises were joined together. They both hissed together at the contact.

She gave her first smile then, the one that belonged to an older, competitive Katniss, the one who thrilled in bringing down a buck and having the biggest haul. She could never turn that pride into winning at all costs, even if it meant her survival. But she enjoyed the power she had over Peeta in this moment, the way she dominated their pace as she lifted and sank over him. And he smiled back as she moved. She owned his hunger, the near painful grip of his hands on her hip, the delirious surge of his body as he sought to close the stubborn space between them, the one that rendered one being into two solitary halves. He pulled her towards him, his mouth swallowing her breast, the whimpers stifled as he lunged upwards. Ruthlessly, with a ferocity of his own, he stole her advantage, pinning her to him as his pace became frantic. She was trapped by his mounting climax and it pushed her own undulating crest of tension over the edge.

With a mindless shout of joy she came, squeezing a groan of release from him as he followed behind her, the pulsing of her body drawing out every last drop of his pleasure. When they had risen, and convulsed and shuddered with the force of it, they collapsed against each other, panting wildly, searching for an anchor to bring them back to themselves.

Katniss rolled off of him, pushing her damp hair behind her ear. She turned her head to look at Peeta. His eyes were closed, as if he were calling back the scattered pieces of himself with a supreme act of will. How many times could a person do this before they dissolved into nothing? Sometimes, when she was sad, missing her sister, and hating herself for all the scars the world had borne in her name, she disappeared from everything in a very different way.

But this coming undone brought her back to life each and every time. After many months, she learned to embrace this too, without all the guilt that plagued the other aspects of her life. It was pure and reciprocal, a luxury she could permit herself because it kept Peeta intact also.

The sounds of the world came rushing back. Haymitch’s geese were riotous in their pen, the children of the community home had been unleashed in their enormous garden. Further down, someone shouted, trying to make a delivery. Katniss scooted towards Peeta, positioning herself in the place she’d made her own - the crook of his arm, head resting on his shoulder. She was not heavy and anyway, he was strong. The strongest person she’d ever known.

He opened his eyes finally and stared at her, appearing to take in every nuance of her face. His fingers followed the path of his eyes and she smiled again, drowsy and full to overflowing. He made to say something to her, to undo the last barrier that kept reality at bay, with its half satisfactions and defied expectations. But she stopped him with a kiss. Just a little longer, she thought, and then I’ll give you back to the world.

[laughingpinecone]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Albert Rosenfield/Harry Truman Characters: Albert Rosenfield, Harry Truman Additional Tags: Canonical Character Disappearance, Loyalty, Second Chances but Sad, An Overwhelming Lack of Dale Cooper, Resolved Sexual Tension, Canon Levels of Sad and Ominous (or at least I tried), Mentions of Dale/Harry, Immediate Post-Cliffhanger, TSHOTP compliant, but not spoilery except for Coop's status which shockingly confirms the s2 finale who'd have thought

Yuletide treat for Tiriel!

Then he left. Like a shadow shifting on the forest's soil as the wind weaves the branches above, Dale Cooper was gone by the end of March, then back, then gone again in the fogs of a rainy April morning. He paid for his hotel room with a joke that made sense in the rarefied, hypnotic air of dawn, like in a dream, and that the concierge could never quite put back together; he then left a generous tip and an uneasy grin to the valet who led him to his car and disappeared on a westbound road. His Dodge Diplomat was never spotted again.

Agent Rosenfield was not allowed near the case. Too personal, his superiors repeated while the trail up North got colder and frayed, too involved.

Too competent, too qualified, he told himself, and shelved that thought at the bottom of a career's worth of doubts and suspicions.

He should have, at least, for comfort and decency, gotten in a car and driven up to that rural eldritch dystopia on personal business, to find closure for and from the other poor unfortunate sods Coop left behind. He never did. Obviously, he was not the only one left grieving. Obviously, it would have taken two blind eyes and a kick in the shin to miss the Sheriff's helpless gaze whenever Dale Cooper was in the room, a drowning man giving up one inch away from the shore. Sheriff Truman had a disarming simplicity etched in his very bones, which meant he was either faring a lot better than Albert, enjoying the perks of a life led with the thoughtlessness of your average dairy cow, or a whole lot worse. Either way, if someone really lives up there in a big cloud in the sky distributing roles to humankind and gave “consoling shoulder to cry on” to Albert Rosenfield of all people, that someone is a nitwit and an incompetent fraud and should be fired. Harry would drag him down, or he would drag Harry down, and they would both drown in this dense oily rage.

So when the case that had kept him in Seattle wrapped up, Albert was ready to pack and scram. Past expensive toiletries, a host of suits, blue silk pajamas and a veritable nest of ties, there wasn't much to collect in his motel room: five boxes of his favorite licorice, fortuitously found in Tacoma while restocking on cigarettes; a monograph on the Bay of Pigs invasion with the laconic handwritten dedication “Food for thought - Dale Cooper”; cufflinks from his father, rarely worn. At the very bottom of his suitcase, pressed against two identical yet mismatched socks, lay a few daydreams, well-worn fantasies that kept him company throughout the past couple of weeks.

Coop often blathered about parallel universes - Coop often blathered about all things under the sun and several which have only been recorded under the influence of heavy hallucinogens, but then again, it was always part of the charm. Albert won't say that desperation has made a convert out of him, but he has to wonder if things may have gone differently elsewhere, if some other Albert had more time, more chances before it all came crashing down. Thing is, he used to think about Sheriff Truman.

It would go like this: he would go back to that detestable hamlet for any old jolly perfunctory reason. To bring updates on a case? Sure, in person, just to spite Bell, Meucci and all that posse. To check on Coop? Story of his life. To move along a masturbatory fantasy with little care for accessory details? That too, on occasion.

Coop himself would be a reassuring presence at the margin of his vision. Albert was aware that it is hardly fair to make a move on the newest crush of your oldest friend, but it is not fair to take your crush's side when your crush has just punched your oldest friend either, so, as the saying goes, them’s the breaks. Fair play for fair play, Coop.

The details of his movements got bogged down in the fog. Albert was in the woods outside Twin Peaks, an abject receptacle of mud, lichens, fungi and the occasional skunk working in concert to make an attempt on his senses, or at least his brogues. Truman was there with him. A singular source of comfort among the trees, sturdier than a fir, and their surroundings would fade away to focus on his hoarse little laugh and on stray sunlight caressing dark curls. Albert would stand by him, or kick back in the passenger's seat of his pickup, and breathe in his presence. Truman was a fixed point, a sturdy pillar of banalities.

Or they would be in his office, back at the station. That place represented its occupant to a cringe-worthy degree and it was good to be surrounded by it like an embrace, all the while staring at that embarrassing “The buck stopped here” plaque, and at Truman, and back at the plaque and back at Truman as the perfect quip slowly formed on his tongue and he savored it in full before letting it loose. And that was the trick, the one sure-fire way he knew of getting his attention, of riling him up like Albert himself was shaken by this stupid attraction. He lashed out, poking at his composed lawman act until he found the crude instinct underneath. It just followed, logically, as these things go (when they do not end up in violence, i.e., always, but he'd learned how to let that thought slide), that when the Sheriff snapped, he shut him up by putting his arms squarely on Albert's shoulders and kissing him. In his daydream, he tasted of coffee and donuts, and resin, and Albert had imagined to run his mouth against that stubble for so long that he could feel his lips go raw. His hands were at once on the coarse texture of the man's goddamn warm, cuddly, purple insult of a jacket, tugging at his shirt's neckline, lost among unruly hair. Auspicably, he was being pushed against something - the desk would do; preferably a tree when outside, for the added image of rough bark clawing at his back. Harry didn't know how to handle him, so he would take his time to guide the oaf into a half-decent kiss.

Albert could get lost in him. His life was a struggle with contradictions, morals and the whole palette of human doubts, but here was this safe, rugged man who elicited a safe, rugged love and channeled a rare sort of peace (for someone who is not, in fact, a dairy cow). So he monologued the depth of his feelings, as these things go, still holding him close, fingers pressed against his bare sides under three layers or more of assorted rustic cloth, and then some feeling of shame eventually caught up with him. The guy had a girlfriend, or the girlfriend had just died, or it felt like betraying Coop, depending on how long this mess of a crush had gone on for. The fantasy was over; Albert Rosenfield kicked back in his chair and felt bad for himself.

Then he left. Dale Cooper was gone in the fogs of a rainy April morning and he wasn't allowed to run after him and the world had the gall to keep spinning. Albert packed his hopes and feelings and left for Philadelphia, eager to meet the next blue rose kid who wouldn't last halfway through their first assignment. With some luck, he'd get to know them long enough to mourn them once they disappeared. Someone had to.

And daydreams went and soured, past their expiration date. Truman was a good man, one of the few, but he was Sheriff in that pastoral hellhole, as deeply rooted in its rotten ground as the mountains and trees themselves, and Albert was not going back there just to cut his stitches and reopen all his wounds. He could not even bear to go back to his fantasies, where his memory of the man would be too gentle and allow him to curl up in an embrace and let go.

And Albert needed to be holding onto his composure, letting his rage condense and crystallize in his legs, his spine, a dense knot in his stomach to keep standing and fighting (if not for Coop, if he wasn't allowed to do that, then in his name along the usual banners of love and justice). One cannot always afford to break down and cry.

During that week, he did not see the signs. This happened partly because he was grieving and his eyes were fixed solely on his desk or on the ground; mostly because, despite Cole's best attempts, his forays into extrasensorial experiences amounted to having developed a keen instinct for telling whenever Dale Cooper had run out of coffee.

On Monday, waiting in a boring line for boring bureaucracy, he saw that someone had forgotten a guide of the Pacific Northwest. It was earmarked on Mount St Helens, its eruption, the stubborn man whose life it took, but Albert did not bother to open it.

On Wednesday, he certainly did not notice that the horoscope for Virgo and Taurus were switched, mistakenly printed one in place of the other.

On Thursday, he heard on the radio about a landslide ruining acres of forest, but other than a drive to donate some money to some ecologist organization or another, which he already had, he wouldn't know what to do with the news.

It is past the deepest hour of a stormy night, nearing the hypnotic quality of dawn, and Albert, who has been lying on his bed all night with barely a wink of sleep, is thinking about an old tale, a joke which almost made sense, once, in a dream, when the doorbell rings.

His steps across the corridor are rare and heavy: he is carving a path, like an astronaut on alien soil when dozens and dozens of corridors contemporary and parallel to the one he is traversing remain empty.

“I can hear you there, Rosenfield,” a deep voice says says, half prayer, half accusation. “You said- you said you love me.”

Albert fumbles the door open and blinks, taking in the sight. Harry S. Truman is waiting outside, shaking and smelling like a wet, drunk dog. Under the unflattering light of the porch, a patch of his jacket stands out, darker and torn where his badge used to be. Albert doesn't want to know how he made it to his doorstep in that state, all the way from Washington; the man crashes in his arms with a sob, resting his big, curly head in the curve of his neck. “You said you love me,” he repeats. “You did.”

He did. Not quite how he meant it back then, but that's life having a sense of humor for you.

“You heard me right the first time, you loutish boor.” Albert holds him and tries to make a physical, spacial sense of this man's presence in his arms, running his hands along the grain of his jacket, unbuttoning a cold, dripping wet shirt which is likewise soaking his pajamas but that's a complaint for another day, brushing his hair in a gruff gesture of reassurance. When he is finally holding him, when he is sure that he's there between his hands, firmly placed on his sides, he props him up against the door and hurriedly finds his lips for a kiss that's half alcohol, half tobacco and has them both recoil. But it's a start.

Two hours later, Harry is asleep on the couch, freshly showered if not yet shaven, wearing a mismatched set of Albert's spare gym slacks and a tank top courtesy of the Bureau. They haven't shared a word, aside from Albert's barked instructions on where to find the shampoo, and exhaustion caught up with his guest as soon as his head hit the pillow. There will be time. Albert isn't leaving his side, caressing his hand in his - the man may be pushing forty, but spread on the couch like this, he looks like a boy, an outcast whose roots weren't as solid as they looked.

“Keep up, Truman, this won't do.” Someone has to be a pillar and a beacon in there and it won't be Coop anymore. It won't always be Albert, either, who is just now feeling tears roll across his face, the first after their lives fell apart.

They are stranded so far away from the best of all possible worlds, but they’ll make do.

[kinsbin]

Can’t Sleep, Love

Title: Can’t Sleep, Love Word Count: 2038 Ship: Dale/Alexys [Canon/Self Insert]

Summary: Dale has been through a lot. So has Alexys. Sometimes, those things catch up to them and it makes it hard to sleep. Luckily they always have one another to ease the stress of a night lost to nightmares.

Author’s Note: Another writing commission for @bad-blue-moon-rising! I love writing for her and this ship is SO SO CUTE AND FUN, thank-you for commissioning me again darl <3

Nights were hard sometimes.

They were mostly hard for Dale, of course. Alexys couldn’t count the number of times she had awoken to him at her side, fists clenched and teeth gritted as nightmares of war and cannibalism plagued him simultaneously in the back of his mind. The number of nights she had to put a hand on his shoulder to shake him awake, her voice falling shakily into the darkness as he was startled into reality. The limitless moments of her holding him in her arms as he recovered, body shining with sweat and tears he would never dare to allow to fall pricking the corner of his eyes. Each night made her heart hurt. They made her relish the nights where he slept soundly at her side, arms entwined with one another as he held her close to him and matched his breathing with her own throughout the lull of the evening.

Those nights made it hard for her to sleep, in turn, because she wanted to be awake for it. To keep her eyes locked on every single moment of his face as it rested peacefully. The rares of all for him, she supposed, was the look of peace a good night’s sleep seemed to offer up on his facial structure. Nights she spent not resting were nights guarding him in making sure that he did instead, a well placed sacrifice in her heart as she woke up the next morning exhausted but happy at his side.

Then there were nights...like these.

Endless. Vacant. Alexys opened her eyes to darkness and a lack of warmth at her side. Her muscles ached with the want to remain in the same position they had been in, to rest longer in the same way they always had. She longed for the sweet release of a dreamscape once again as her subconscious attempted to tug her back into her REM cycle despite the inane fact that something seemed off. It took most of her remaining effort to heave a sigh of exhaustion and turn her body to the side, so at least she could see how Dale was doing, if he was still there.

The vacant spot at her side confirmed the off feeling she had initially garnered, of course. She had known it was going to be empty the moment she shifted her body to feel no resistance of his arms around her or hum of his voice as she moved. More awake now, her gaze held the empty sheets, staring at the creases within them. The dip in the center of the mattress was fresh, signaling that he had not been up for very long. That was a good sign, she reasoned with her slightly permanent anxiety as her hands reached out to trace patterns against the messed sheets. He must have woken himself up from his own nightmare, or, he hadn't been able to sleep. He hadn’t wanted to wake her up either, she guessed, by the way he had so quietly snuck out of bed while leaving her behind. A frown creased her mouth, parsed with worry before she slowly heaved her body up. Alexys felt her limbs ache with the heaviness of sleep. A hand moved upwards to wipe away the blurriness from her blue eyes as they adjusted to the darkness of the bedroom.

She gazed from the bed to the door, observing the soft yellow light that filtered through the frame. It had been left open slightly, most likely he had probably forgotten to close it due to his hasty exit. It must have been a difficult nightmare, Alexys realized with hurt in her heart, as he always remembered to close the doors behind him. It was a little quirk she had grown so comforted by and used to, as he always insisted it kept them safer. Gave them a barrier between anything that might hurt them. “It’ll give me a chance to protect you.” He had phrased it once, without realizing the implications of his words, and sen both of their cheeks flaring a dangerous shade of red as they averted their eyes from one another.

She took in a deep breath and cracked her neck before sliding off of the bed, her feet landing on the plush carpet of the apartment floor with barely any audible cue. Alexys felt the shiver that ran up her spine as her shoulders were bared to the cold air from out of the protective layer of the covers. Her tank top and shorts were little help in this nighttime chill, but, it was no big deal. Her mind was focused elsewhere. Taking one of the softer and smaller throw blankets from the end of the bed, she wrapped it around herself before moving forward to exit the bedroom. There was the faintest creak as she stepped on a spot of the floor with loose floorboards. It groaned and faded into nothingness again as she moved on from it.

As she pushed the door open fully, she could hear the soft sound of the television set echoing from the living room. Its soft shades of blue and violet glowed down the hallway, diminishing in the full glow of the kitchen where the scent of coffee hung heavy in the air. He wasn’t planning on sleeping again tonight, she realized with a worried knit of her eyebrows, and had brewed the fresh pot they had left prepared for the following morning instead.

Blanket dragging against the ground behind her, Alexys poked her head into the kitchen. There was no one within it, the pot of coffee slightly askew from its holder and a mug from their dish rack missing where it had once been. She turned to the living room instead, staring into it and noting where the kitchen light filtered in past the doorway that separated them. Sure enough, resting on the plush couch, she could see the top of Dale’s head as he stared forward at the television set. Alexys didn’t recognize the movie playing. She doubted that Dale even knew what he was watching either. He was using the sound, most likely, as a distraction. The moving pictures merely a relaxing thing to keep his mind occupied from the thoughts of the dream that had pushed him out of the bed. She moved slowly behind him, tapping on the doorframe to signal her arrival as she entered. The sound startled him, but, less than he would have been if she had simply snuck up behind him. She had learned the small cues and triggers for the marine veteran, just as he had learned hers, when they had moved in together. Months of practice had gotten them both good at reading one another in a situation and knowing just how to respond to it.

Dale turned his head to watch her enter, eyes heavy with exhaustion as he gently nurtured his cup of coffee between his hands. She, in return, gave him a smile as she rounded the furniture to meet him, placing herself comfortably on the free end of the couch and putting up her feet, knees touching to her chest as she tilted her head.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“Something like that.”

His voice was rougher than it normally was, hoarse with the effort of talking when he wasn’t prepared for it. To clear it, he held up his coffee and took a sip. Alexys watched him carefully, gaze holding the mug as he put it down on the coffee table in front of them. She used it as her chance to move, crawling over to his side and draping half of the blanket over his shoulders as well. This drew a chuckle from the older man’s lips as the blanket was decidedly too small to even reach far on his back. Still, she made an effort, grinning at him in return as she snuggled up to his side. Dale stretched his arm around her in return, bringing her close to him. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest at his side. Smell the scent of his aftershave and body wash he had used to clean himself during his shower. It lingered with the scent of fresh coffee on his shirt and she sighed at the comforting familiarity of it all.

“I didn’t mean to wake you up,” He apologized with a murmur into her head as he leaned over to kiss the top of it.

“Mm, you didn’t,” Alexys soothed easily, “I woke up myself and...got worried when you weren’t in bed is all...Was it a nightmare?”

He sipped his coffee again, a silent confirmation. Alexys tilted her head to look up at him, pursing her lips as her brows knit together, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” He managed out as he shook his head, staring forward at the television, “No, there’s no reason to it was just...old memories. Coming back to remind that they’ll always be on my ass, I guess.”

The curse made a giggle slip past her lips. Dale smiled at her in return, yet, she could feel it. The unsure pain behind it though he tried so hard to disguise himself. He didn’t want her to see him as hurt. He didn’t want her to see him as vulnerable and she could respect that. She could understand that. It took so much to be vulnerable to others, after all. It was not something he was prepared to do, sometimes, not even for her. Of course, she thought stubbornly, that wouldn’t stop her from reassuring him that he could.

To prove the thought to herself, Alexys reached out until her arms were weaved around his neck. Pulling herself into his lap, she nuzzled his neck and sighed against his chest, resting comfortably in the small of his lap. Dale’s only protest was a soft grunt of surprise before his hands were off and steadying her hips as she moved around him, eventually settling on winding themselves around her torso in return as he kissed her forehead a second time. His arms were so strong and warm that the barrier they created felt like the Great Wall. So thick and impenetrable that anyone could try to hurt her, but, they would fail. He would be there to protect her, and, he always would.

“You don’t have to if you really don’t want to,” She murmured into his neck, kissing his jaw with a sigh, “But if you need to talk about it, you can always talk to me. It won’t bother me or scare me. I want to be there to support you, Dale...and besides-” She pulled away to look at him with a mischievous smile, “Maybe if I know what it is, I can chase it away with my bad humor and these smoking guns.”

Moving one arm, Alexys flexed it to show off the soft muscles, not nearly as defined as her boyfriend’s musculature. This seemed to garner a positive reaction, as Dale’s smile broke against his mouth and he felt his shoulders shake with a delighted laughter. “You better put those away, hot stuff,” He returned her jest with one of his own as he pulled her closer, kissing the side of her cheek with a hum, “You’ll send them running for cover with a threat like that.”

“Good,” She grinned, “They better not come back!”

The back and forth banter had eased the tension she had seen in him earlier. The creased lines of exhaustion and worry on his face had given way to ones made of joy and amusement, laugh lines painting the corners of his lips as he chuckled at her with a raise of his eyebrows. Her return response was to kiss him on the nose, snuggling into his chest as she made herself comfortable on top of him, eyes shutting with only the slight onset of tiredness between their momentary fit of jokes and jests. “I mean it, though,” She whispered, “Anything that does hurt you...I’m here to keep it away, okay?”

“Yeah...Yeah, thanks.”

Nights were hard, but, that didn’t mean they were hopeless. They had each other after all.

[sleepyverstappens]

Dancing Through Life (Chapter 2/?)

Title: Dancing Through Life

Pairing: Aaron Dingle/Robert Sugden

Rating: M (for later chapters)

Warnings (New warnings in italics): Canonical Character Death, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Non-Graphic Violence, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con

Summary:  Two boys, stuck in a small village in the Yorkshire Dales, until they found their unlikely way out, through ballet and each other.

(Read on AO3)

(Chapter 1)

A/N: I said I would upload this once a week, but I've decided to change the upload days from Saturdays to Mondays :)(New warnings have been added, so be sure to check those in case of triggering content.)

Chapter 2: Aaron

Aaron had started dancing young, yes, but he hadn’t always been into dancing. Not like a lot of his peers who always said they pretty much came out of the womb dancing. No, Aaron had spent most of his early years running about with his friends, kicking about a football and climbing trees. But then his mum had left him, dropped him off at Gordon’s out of nowhere and his whole world had come crashing down.

He had been crying a lot. Had been acting out a lot, because he missed his mum so much. Missed her bright smile as he gave her the treasures he had found on the beach, missed the slightly freaked out look on her face as he had opened his new Furby on his 8th birthday. That’s why he hadn’t been able to understand why she had just left him with Gordon out of seemingly nowhere. Yes, her and Gordon had been fighting a lot, but even so he didn’t understand why she had just left him. His friends with parents that had split up still saw both of their parents, so why didn’t she want him anymore?

And then Gordon had been sacked at work and the world had come crashing down even harder.

He could still hear the creaking of his floorboards as Gordon had come up to his room that night. Could hear the ringing silence as he had just stared at him. Could still feel his sheets being ripped away from where he had pulled them over his head. Could still feel everything he had done to him. Could still remember feeling dirty and ashamed.

After that everything had happened so fast, one day he was still living with Gordon and the next he was in a group home waiting for his mum to pick him up. For his mum to pick up the pieces that were left of him.

It had been hard to glue the pieces of him back together, but that’s when he had found dancing. Counselling had worked sure, but it still left him with this nervous energy inside of his body that he couldn’t get rid of. He could never keep still during his sessions with his counsellor, so she had suggested it to him and Chas. She had suggested an activity to help him get rid of the nervous energy coursing through his body. And since football clearly wasn’t doing the job they had looked at other sports and found an elementary ballet class in Hotten. He had to use his whole body in ballet, letting him shake off all the unwanted energy. And unlike football, in ballet you needed a certain level of control over your body, control he craved.

When he was dancing he felt free, he was able to lose himself in it. There was this fire inside of him, this electricity sparking him back to life, making him feel like he could fly.

He had always looked forward to his dance classes, wishing he could go more than those two classes each week. When he found out that there were more classes each week he had begged his mum to let him go to more classes, but Chas was a single mother working two jobs at once and the drive into Hotten twice a week was expensive as it also cut into her work hours. Nevertheless he practiced every day of the week to get better.

“Okay, everyone find a place at the barre,” Mrs. Flint bellowed to try and get the attention of the 14 girls and 1 boy in the room.

At first Aaron had felt weird being the only boy in the ballet class, but now he didn’t care anymore as he had found that ballet was the only thing that could really make him feel better. The boys at football had laughed when he told them why he stopped training with them and it had hurt, but they didn’t know what had happened to him. They didn’t know that whilst ballet made him feel better, football had the opposite effect. Football had been something he used to do with him and just thinking about it now made his skin crawl.

“Aaron, first position please,” Mrs. Flint voice broke through his thoughts. He looked around the room and all the girls were already in first position, some of them giggling at his mistake. With a quick glare in the direction of the giggling girls he got into first position, head held high.

 At home he had wondered what his family would think of him doing ballet. He knew his mum wouldn’t care, she was just happy it was making him feel better. He could’ve been into finger painting for all she cared as long as he was happy. Lisa had hugged him tightly as he had come back from his first class and asked him to show him what he had learned that day. Even uncle Zak and Cain were alright with it, only good-heartedly teasing him about it. And as he had told them all about his classes they had just nodded along and ruffled his hair.

The only person that had had a problem with it had been his grandad. His grandad had kept going on about how it was a girls sport, how surely there could be something else he could do.

“Football, you always liked football. That’s what a boy your age should be doing, running after a ball getting dirty, not dancing around in tights with a bunch of girls, people will think you’re some sort of poof,” Shadrach said.

Those last words rang in his head. He couldn’t know right? No he couldn’t, because he wasn’t. Just because he did ballet didn’t mean he was. Just because he had liked Kyle a lot didn’t mean he was.

He didn’t say anything about it though, instead he yelled: “I hate football!” just as his mum yelled ‘Dad!’

“Leave him be dad, you don’t know anything about it!”

“I’m just saying there are loads of other things he could be doing. What about I dunno, judo or wrestling, proper boys sports.”

The thought of judo or wrestling made his skin crawl, the thought of people touching him like that, it was too close to how he had touched him. No, he just wanted to keep doing ballet, where no one touched him when he didn’t want them to, where he could just forget about everything else.

 And so he kept going to ballet classes and slowly his life started to feel normal again. Living with his mum meant he got to see his extended family loads. With her working two jobs he had found himself having his tea at Zak and Lisa’s more often than not, but he hadn’t minded. He was never the only one stopping off at Wishing Well, one or more members of the family usually dropped in at random. Life back then had been quite chaotic, but he had loved it. And even though his mum was working herself ragged to keep him fed and happy, she always made time to drive him to his ballet classes. Though on one memorable day, when he was 10 years old, it hadn’t been his mother’s face he had seen peeking through the dance studio’s window.

Aaron was just finding his balance again after a botched attempt at a pirouette when he caught a glimpse of his face. He felt his face twist in confusing as he looked back at the window where all the parents were waiting to see his uncle’s grumpy face staring back at him. He was clearly uncomfortable between all the mom’s gathered around waiting for their daughters – he was still the only boy in his classes. Cain scrunched up his face as one woman tried to make some small talk with him, clearly curious about who this mystery man they had never seen before was.

“Aaron!” Mrs. Flint’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“Yes, Miss?”

“Try another pirouette, but keep your focus on your spot. And you need to keep your other leg higher you keep letting it drop out of retiré,” she said as she showed him where his leg needed to be. “Go on, give it another try.”

He got in position and focused on the spot he always chose for pirouettes – a crack in the mirrored wall- and turned his body around on his left leg, focussing on keeping his other leg in the right position.

“That’s it! Well done Aaron. Keep practicing and maybe next week we can try doing it attitude,” she praised him, a secret smile playing on her lips. “Okay class, time’s up! Well done everyone and I’ll see all of you next week.”

Aaron grabbed his bag from the side of the room and made his way over to his uncle.

“Hey Cain, what’re you doing here?”

“Your mum had to go back into work, some emergency order at the factory or something.”

“Ah,” he sighed. “Were you waiting long?” he asked Cain as he pulled his track bottoms over his shorts and switched his ballet shoes for his battered trainers.

“Nah, s’allright. You seem to be getting the hang of those… uh… what’d you call them,” he said twirling his finger around.

“Pirouettes.”

“Yeah, them. You were a lot better at them than all those girls in there.”

“Really? Mrs. Flint is always telling me what I’m doing wrong,” Aaron said, a frown twisting on his face.

“She must just be paying more attention to you, even I could see you were better,” Cain shrugged.

“You’re supposed to say that, you’re family.”

“Hey, learn to take a compliment will ya, I don’t give ‘em out freely. Anyway you ready to go home?”

Aaron quickly pulled his hoodie over his head, before nodding that he was ready to go.

 It wasn’t long after the day that Cain came to pick him up from his ballet class that Mrs. Flint mentioned the Royal Ballet School. She mentioned it to the whole class, but his mum was the only one she spoke to about it afterwards. Chas had been surprised to hear that Mrs. Flint actually thought her son was good enough for the Royal Ballet School. After all ballet had just started as a form of therapy for Aaron, a way to deal with what had happened to him, a way to try and forget it. But she had seen how much progress he had made the few times she had been early enough picking him up to see more than just the tail-end of his class. Mrs. Flint had mentioned to them that the Royal Ballet School usually did auditions in Manchester early in the year, so they still had plenty of time to decide and train.

The next day was a Sunday and he had begged his mum to take him to the café to use the computer there; he had to look up this prestigious ballet school all the way in London. He had looked at the pictures on the website in awe, it had all looked so professional compared the his ballet studio in Hotten. There were actually boys there as well, if he got in he finally wouldn’t be the only one anymore. He had spent so long on the website and the website of the Royal Ballet that his mum had to finally drag him away after an hour when other people had started to grumble about wanting to use the computer as well.

So in the months leading up to the auditions he had practiced as much as he could. The Dingles had even started up a roster on who would drive him into Hotten, just so he could go to an extra private class each week. Cain had even started to get used to the attention from the mothers waiting around for their kids. But they had all banded together, working odd jobs to help Chas out in paying for the extra classes.

So when the day had come to drive up to Manchester it hadn’t just been Aaron and Chas making the trek up, no their car was crammed full with as many Dingles as could fit. It hadn’t really helped with Aaron’s nerves, but knowing his family was so supportive had been great.

“Mum, I can’t do this!” Aaron hissed at his mum as he looked around at the room full of kids in ballet gear.

“Of course you can, you’ve been training for this for months.”

“Look at ‘em, they’re so much better than me.”

“Hey, you know we’re proud of you no matter what happens right? But you’ll do great Aaron,” Lisa said in her calming voice.

Just as he the nerves fluttering in his stomach were settling down a bit a serious looking man came in to call his group in. He took a deep breath, took in his family’s calls of support and thumbs ups, and made his way to the packed dance studio.

As they were working through the different positions and movements the stares from the Royal Ballet School people only made him take notice of how his limbs were shaking. Deep breaths, he reminded himself as he was focussing on holding his arms in first position.

And then all of a sudden it was over, the people at the front done with their scribbling and staring and instead thanking them for their time. Aaron wondered if it had been enough, some of the kids in the room definitely looked like they had more experience than him. But then the website had said the school looked at artistic talent and potential, not just how good you already were. Yes, by now he knew everything about the school that was available online.

 He had walked out of the dance studio to be met with the expectant looks of his family, but all he had been able to do was hope for the best. Thankfully they hadn’t had to wait too long for the invitation to the auditions in London. Getting to London had meant that the Dingles had to find some extra work to get enough money, looking back Aaron realised some of those jobs probably weren’t legal.

But then soon enough the day had come for them to make their way down to the capital of the country. For some reason he had actually been less nervous for his London audition than for the one in Manchester. While the other kids had been pacing the locker room or jiggling their knees, he had felt calm and ready for the audition; grateful that he couldn’t compare himself to the other kids in the solo auditions. And while the stares from the judges were now solely focussed on him it had been easier to forget about them on that day. When they had asked him how he felt when he danced, the answer had come easily. To this day dancing still made him feel free, free to forget about everything else but dancing.

Leaving the audition room that day he had felt calm and content, knowing he had put his all in the audition. He had been confident, but had also known that if he didn’t make it he had given it his all and he couldn’t have done more.  

Waiting for the acceptance letter had still been a test of everyone’s patience though. Every time he had seen a Dingle or even some random other villagers in town they had asked him if he had heard anything yet. So of course when that letter had finally dropped through the mailbox he had been home alone. When his mum had come home he had just been sat there at the kitchen table staring at the envelope, afraid to open it.  

“It came,” was the first thing his mum said as she walked into the kitchen. He had been sat there staring at the envelope ever since he came home from school; he had almost opened it multiple time, but never could go through with it.

“Yeah,” Aaron whispered.

“Well come on, open it then.”

“What if I didn’t get in though?”

“Then you didn’t get in, you stay here and keep dancing and maybe give it another shot next year. And even if you don’t want to try out again that’s fine baby. But let’s see if you got in or not first yeah, before we start with the doom scenario’s. You said the audition went well, right?”

Aaron nodded, before picking up the letter again. He ran his thumb over the embossed logo on the front of it, then turned it over and ripped it open. He had to take a few deep breaths as he tried to get his eyes to focus on the black letters on the page he had folded open. But when the letters finally got into focus his eyes immediately fell on one word: Congratulations.  

 Moving to London had all been a blur. The end of the school year back at Emmerdale had come quickly and the summer holiday had seemed to pass even quicker. He hadn’t minded though, he had been glad he could leave Emmerdale behind. He would miss his family of course, over the last couple of years back with his mum they had shown him so much love. But Emmerdale also held the memories of before, even though he had not lived there with him it still always reminded him of what happened in those few months he hadn’t lived in Emmerdale. And not only that, after he started ballet he had lost most of his friends. None of the boys wanted to hang out with the lad that did ballet and after he got accepted into the Royal Ballet School a lot of the girls in his ballet classes had gotten jealous of him. So going to London would mean a new start he had really needed.

So that last summer he had spent mostly with his family, getting up to some real Dingle shenanigans whilst he still could. And then all of a sudden they had been down in London unpacking his suitcases and his new life had started. He was finally around people whose lives also revolved around ballet. His family had been very supportive, but they had never gotten it the way this new group of people did.

Soon enough he got used to the new rhythm of his life. Waking up early was the hardest thing to get used to. At home he had always been running late for school, often shoving toast in his mouth on the way to the car as his mum drove him to school. So now he had often found himself sleepily staring at his breakfast in the dining hall, the other kids chatting around him cheerily. When he would still sit down at the dining table grumpily after the first few months and there had been a mention of his uncle’s nickname for him, ‘Sunshine’ had been taken on by his friends.  

The rest of his new day-to-day life had been easy for him to get used to. He had never been a very good student, but the smaller classrooms and one-on-one teaching did help his grades a bit. But what he had loved the most was of course his dance classes. Even though he had often been bone-tired after a long day of school and training he still loved every second of it.

Then as he was almost 13 years old most of the other boys had started to notice the girls, and how their bodies were changing.

“Did you see Lacy got a new leotard?” David asked the group of boys at the table.

“Huh, did she?” Aaron asked.

“Yeah, it’s cuz she’s getting boobs,” Eric snickered.

“Totally! I think Marion is getting a new one soon as well, have you seen hers?” Mark joined in.

Aaron looked on at his friends confused, should he have been looking at the girls? Sure he noticed it when one of the girls got the hang of a new move quicker than the rest of them, but his eyes had never wandered in that direction.

“I know right. Have you really not noticed Aaron?”

“No, of course I have. Just didn’t realise it was a new leotard, that’s all,” he lied quickly.

The conversation that morning had left him wondering, so during the next dance class he paid attention. And he did notice more and more girls started to get curves in certain areas, but looking at them didn’t make him feel giddy like it seemed the other boys felt when they looked at the girls. Was something wrong with him?

 After that particular conversation he had started to think about it more. At first he had just assumed he was just a bit slow on the uptake and that he would start noticing girls in that way soon enough. But then he had started to notice that instead of his eyes wandering to the girls in his classes they had started to wander to the boys. To how their tights clung to their thighs and arse. How their shoulders started to get broader and their biceps more muscled. And most obviously how his eyes would sometimes linger on the bulges in their tights. He didn’t really know why he had all of a sudden taken more notice of that, it wasn’t like that really got all that much bigger and muscled like their arms and thighs had.

He had buried those feeling pretty quickly though, turning his focus on his dancing even more instead. Whenever the other boys had talked about the girls he had just played along with them. If he never started those kinds of conversations, well they had never noticed.