#character: frankie bell

[phoebetonkinweb]

PHOEBE TONKIN as FRANKIE BELL Boy Swallows Universe (2024), Episode 1

[danidoesathing]

Vide Noir + Strange Trails

[ortegahaze]

anyone but you

[part one] | part two | part three | part four |

pairing: Tara Carpenter x gn!reader

synopsis: Tara and you, despite having mutual friends, have never met—until a Blackmore University fraternity party brings your paths together. The night is amazing, but the next morning is a disaster, and both of you hope never to see each other again. What you didn’t anticipate is that your best friends are getting married, and now you'll be forced to spend time together at their destination wedding.

warnings: no ghostface au, mentions of alcohol, fluff in the beginning, angst, bad writing, language, slight change in characters' age, mentions of a dead parent, “enemies” to lovers!

a/n: yes yes, totally inspired by the movie anyone but you, if you haven’t watched it, there will be spoilers. not sure if i liked this first chapter that much, next ones will be better, i promise🤞🏼

word count: 5,8k

—

Tara Carpenter loved to party, but mostly because she would always attend the fraternity houses’ parties with her friends who also attended Blackmore University. Unfortunately for her, it seemed that all her usual companions decided to skip the party tonight without bothering to tell her until the last minute.

There she was, dressed up as a pirate, frowning at her phone where her friends’ messages popped up, saying they wouldn’t be going. That was it—the start of a terrible Friday night. She considered going back home, feeling like a sad loser. But she knew exactly what awaited her there: Sam and Danny probably making out on the couch—or worse. Huffing, she shoved her phone into her back pocket, mustering the courage to enter the Omega Kappa Beta party by herself.

The music was loud, but good. Everyone was enjoying it with red cups held high. She made her way to the trashed kitchen, searching for something strong to help her loosen up and forget that her best friends had abandoned her for the night.

After three cups, she was already stumbling. The loud bass thumped through her chest, her head spinning just enough to make her a bit queasy. Needing a break, she headed for the pool area, which seemed quieter and less chaotic.

She slumped down onto one of the chairs, letting the cool night air hit her face. Maybe this night wasn’t a total disaster, but it sure wasn’t the wild, fun night she had imagined. She closed her eyes, the alcohol swirling in her system, trying to relax.

“Tara?” A voice interrupted her thoughts.

Opening her eyes and looking up, she saw a guy standing beside her. He had a kind of frat-boy look—probably one of the OKB members. Despite being a sophomore law student, Tara had never bothered to learn the names of these guys.

“Yeah?” she mumbled, squinting against the pool lights.

“You good?” the guy asked, concern creasing his forehead.

“Yeah, just… letting the alcohol wear off.” She slurred slightly, trying to sound more sober than she felt. The guy didn’t seem convinced but smiled anyway, offering his hand.

“I’m Frankie,” he said.

She hesitated before shaking his hand, her mind sluggish but wary. “Tara,” she replied.

He motioned toward the house. “You want some water? I can grab some for you in the kitchen.”

She nodded, standing up to follow him. “Yeah, that’d be nice,” she mumbled. Something felt off, but she pushed the thought away, blaming the alcohol for making her overly cautious.

As they walked back toward the house, she noticed fewer people by the pool. It was quieter, the conversations distant. That’s when Frankie spoke up again. “You know what? I have a minibar in my room. We can grab water there, and you can use the bathroom too if you need it.”

Tara’s stomach dropped. The convenient offer set off alarm bells in her head, her instincts kicking in despite the fog of alcohol. Why was he suddenly suggesting his room?

Before she could respond, someone stepped up next to Frankie, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, babe. I was looking for you! I finished my set for the night. We can go home now,” the stranger said smoothly.

She blinked, processing the situation. What?

Frankie glanced at the newcomer’s hand, visibly confused. “Uh…”

“I can see you’ve already met my girlfriend, Frankie,” the stranger continued with a casual smile. “That’s great, but we’ve gotta go now. She’s been having trouble sleeping lately, so I think it’s time we head out. Thanks for taking care of her while I was working tonight.”

Tara felt the stranger’s arm slip around her shoulder. The warmth and casualness of the embrace was oddly comforting, even though she had no idea who this person was. Still, she went along with the act, instincts telling her to trust this stranger over Frankie.

“Yeah, thanks, Frankie,” Tara echoed awkwardly. “We… uh… have to get going.”

Intertwining her fingers with the stranger’s, Tara took the first step, guiding them away from Frankie. Her heart raced—not from fear, but from the strangeness of the whole situation. She wasn’t used to needing to be rescued, especially not by someone who appeared out of nowhere.

When they were far enough from Frankie and back in the kitchen, Tara dropped the stranger’s hand. “Thank you… That was really nice of you.”

“Happy to help,” you replied, rummaging through the fridge. “Frankie’s not the type to handle rejection well, if you know what I mean… and by the look on your face, you were about to reject him.”

Tara flushed, embarrassment creeping up her neck. She wasn’t used to being seen as vulnerable. She hated feeling like she couldn’t handle herself. “Yeah, I was,” she admitted, brushing off her embarrassment with a small smile. “Thanks again.”

The stranger turned around, holding a bottle of water. “No problem. I’m Y/N, by the way.” You extended a hand.

She shook it, noticing how your grip was firm yet gentle. “I’m Tara,” she replied, her voice a little quieter this time. She found herself holding onto your hand for a bit too long before quickly letting go, feeling the touch linger longer than it should have. She cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure. “Uh, is there a bathroom around here?”

You pointed down the hallway. “Yeah, just down there.”

“Thanks,” Tara muttered, handing over the water and heading to the bathroom. Leaving you confused as you stand there with her water. Waiting.

She shut the door behind her and sat on the toilet seat, immediately pulling out her phone while peeing. Her fingers trembled slightly, the adrenaline of the night still buzzing through her as she quickly dialed Mindy. When Mindy picked up, Tara didn’t even wait for a greeting.

“Mindy, I just met this person, and I don’t know… It was something. They saved me from what could’ve been a really messy situation. But like… now what? I don’t even know them, but there was this… connection? Ugh, I don’t know. Maybe I’m overthinking it.” Tara paused, shaking her head at her own words. “I gotta go. I’ll call you back.”

Tara finished washing her hands and looked at herself in the mirror, her brown eyes staring back. She took a deep breath, brushing her fingers lightly over her fringe, as if steadying herself. "Okay," she whispered, gathering her resolve.

Stepping out of the bathroom, she navigated back toward the kitchen, dodging a couple passionately making out near the door, grimacing slightly as she passed them. Her eyes scanned the room until they locked onto yours, and she couldn’t help but smile awkwardly when you handed her the bottle of water.

“Your water,” you said, grinning.

“Thanks.” She took it, and for a moment, the two of you held each other’s gaze, a silent understanding passing between you. You started to say something, but she beat you to it, breaking the silence with a small, resigned smile.

“Well, I think I should call it a night,” she said with a soft sigh. “I’ve had my share of excitement.”

Your smile faltered just a bit, but you quickly recovered, masking any disappointment. As she moved to leave, you hesitated, your mind racing. You turned, watching her head toward the entrance, and something compelled you to act.

“Hey…” you called, stepping quickly after her. She paused, turning with a curious look.

“So, are you gonna ask me out now?” she teased, a playful glint in her eyes as she interrupted whatever you’d been about to say. Her comment took you by surprise, but you broke into a smile, catching onto the playful challenge in her tone.

“Yeah,” you replied, mirroring her smile. “Yeah, I am.” You both shared a quick laugh, then walked toward the door together, side by side.

As you walked out into the night, Tara looked up at you, her curiosity piqued. “You know… I go to a lot of these parties. How come I’ve never seen you around?”

Stuffing your hands into your pockets, you chuckled. “I’m not a student anymore. Graduated last year, but a friend of mine who still goes here got me to DJ tonight.” You let out a wry laugh. “Of course, he didn’t even bother showing up.”

She smirked. “Oh, sounds familiar. My friends did the same to me tonight.”

The streets were mostly empty, with the city’s usual hum softened at this late hour. Streetlights cast long shadows that flickered as you walked, and a few blocks away from the chaos of the party, Tara seemed more grounded, though her steps were still a bit unsteady from the alcohol.

“So,” you said, breaking the silence as you walked alongside her. “What about you? What do you study?”

Tara hugged herself, more from a sense of vulnerability than the chill in the air. She glanced over at you, her expression guarded but curious. “I study law.” she replied, then added reluctantly. Her voice had an almost clipped quality, and you noticed the way she quickly redirected the conversation. “And you? What’s your story?”

Noticing her attempt to shift the topic, you chuckled. “I started out in computer science. That’s what my parents wanted, and it sounded like a solid career, so I went with it for a while. Did a couple of semesters.”

“Computer science?” She raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “Didn’t peg you for the type to spend your days coding.”

“Neither did I,” you admitted, giving her a wry smile. “Eventually, I couldn’t stand it. I switched over to music production—that’s what I’d always wanted to do anyway.”

She nodded, seemingly intrigued despite herself. “I bet your parents weren’t thrilled with the change, huh?”

You shrugged, eyes on the sidewalk ahead. “Not at first. But eventually, they came around. And if worse comes to worst, I can always fall back on tech if I need to.”

Tara’s interest was clearly piqued as she glanced at you thoughtfully. “So, you just sit in a studio with those fancy soundboards?”

You laughed. “Something like that. Mostly, though, it’s me with my laptop, some recording equipment, and way too much caffeine. But I love it—taking random sounds and turning them into something people can connect to.”

She seemed to admire your passion, though she tried to keep her expression casual. “Sounds like you actually went after what you wanted,” she mused, almost to herself.

You smiled at her comment, feeling the quiet camaraderie that had formed between you. “So… you want to keep hanging out for a bit? My place isn’t far from here. I’d offer coffee, but it’s a bit late for that. I make a killer grilled cheese, though.”

Tara raised an eyebrow, both surprised and amused. “Inviting a girl you just met over for grilled cheese? That’s bold.”

You rubbed the back of your neck, grinning. “I like to think so. But no pressure. If you’d rather call it a night, I get it.”

She paused, considering the offer. The sincerity in your expression was unmistakable, and after the strange night she’d had, she found herself craving something simple, something real. With a nod, she finally agreed, letting a genuine smile slip through.

“Alright,” she replied, matching your smile with a smirk. “Let’s see if you’ve got any real culinary skills.”

The two of you continued down the quiet streets, the city’s glow casting a soft light as you walked together. The conversation flowed easily, shifting from one topic to the next as you shared bits and pieces of yourselves.

The conversation moved from childhood stories to other random facts—Tara mentioned she used to collect keychains, and you told her about the time you accidentally broke into the wrong apartment while trying to help a neighbor. The night air carried your laughter, mingling with the rustling leaves and the distant hum of traffic.

—

The two of you stood near the kitchen counter, your movements methodical as you crafted the grilled cheese the way you always did—spreading butter on the bread and layering two slices of cheese. After adding butter to the skillet, you waited for it to melt before placing the sandwich on it, flipping it with the spatula as it browned.

Tara’s eyes wandered around your warehouse-turned-apartment, taking in the cozy but modest space. Music equipment cluttered one corner, while old vinyl records filled the shelves along the walls. She leaned against the counter, her gaze shifting between you and the space, but lingering mostly on you.

“So,” she asked with a playful smirk, “do you invite strangers over for late-night sandwiches often?”

Without looking up from the stove, you chuckled. “Only the ones who look like they’d appreciate my culinary skills. You seemed like the type.”

She rolled her eyes, but a cute smile played on her lips, you could even see her dimples clearly.

As you flipped the sandwich again, the smell filled the small kitchen, and Tara found herself relaxing, slowly letting her guard down in this oddly comforting moment. It had been a long time since she’d experienced a night that felt spontaneous, even a little reckless.

When the sandwich was done, you cut it in half and handed it to her on a plate. “Wait to cool down—” Almost immediately, she bit into it, only to wince and fan her mouth.

“Oh, fuck, that’s hot!” she exclaimed, laughing through the pain between painful chews.

You stifled a laugh. “I literally just took it off the stove. What did you expect?”

“Oh, my God.”

“If you’re gonna be a lawyer, you gotta understand negligence and breach and…” She furrowed her eyebrows and turned her head to look up at you. “McDonald’s versus that lady’s…” You locked eyes with her, noticing her judgmental look. “Habeas corpus.”

Tara chuckled, swallowing carefully. “You absolutely just butchered those terms,” she said, narrowing her eyes and shooting you a mock glare. “Maybe I should represent you in a case against yourself.”

You were both facing each other, holding eye contact as you playfully teased her. “How do you know? You’re not a lawyer yet.” She gave you a disbelieving look. “It’s not too late to choose a more noble profession!”

“Oh, like you?” She nodded toward the computer desk you’d left on from working earlier. You took a bite of the sandwich and followed her gaze.

“You know what? You’re right. Stick with it. I’m gonna need a lawyer to read my contracts at some point.” She chuckled softly. Looking back at her, you smiled.

The two of you stood there, the playful banter bringing warmth to the room that neither of you had expected. She chewed more carefully now, and as she finished the bite, her gaze softened.

“I don’t even know if I want to be a lawyer,” Tara blurted, almost as if she hadn't meant to. She stared at the half-eaten sandwich in her hands, looking embarrassed. “I can’t believe I just said that out loud.”

You paused, unsure how to respond, but instead of words, you gently reached out and wiped a bit of cheese from the corner of her mouth with your thumb. The gesture was intimate, more so than you’d intended, and for a moment, the room seemed to grow quieter.

She sighed, her voice dropping. “My mom’s a lawyer. I thought maybe if I followed in her footsteps, things would make sense. But… I feel like it isn’t really me.”

There was a small silence, but instead of pressing, you just gave her a supportive nod. “You don’t have to figure it all out now.”

She smiled gratefully and took another bite, the tension lifting again as you both relaxed into the conversation. The two of you laughed, easing the awkwardness. You took another bite, an unconscious smile lingering on your face. With Tara around, you almost felt like a different person. She brushed the back of her hand where yours had touched, glancing back at you.

“I’m sorry… My life is a disaster right now.”

“Might be turning a corner,” you shrugged, showing compassion for her struggle, making eye contact again. “You just met me!”

Tara grinned. “Yeah, or I could end up in a suitcase.” You chuckled. “I mean… you’ve got some, uh, serial killer vibes going on here. Why do you have a giant wrench?” She pointed to the large wrench sitting on the vinyl rack. You looked at it and smiled.

“Okay, harsh,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “It wouldn’t be a suitcase. It would be a carry-on, thank you very much. You’re about zero feet tall,” you teased, referencing her small stature. She shot you a light glare, making you smile. You glanced back at the wrench. “And my mom gave me that.” At this, Tara raised her eyebrows, paying closer attention. “It’s a reminder that no matter how broken something is, there’s always a way to fix it.”

She nodded at your words, pressing her lips together and closing her eyes briefly.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m talking to you about my mom right now.” You squinted and shook your head, letting out a small chuckle.

Vulnerability hit you for a moment. You weren’t one to share much about your late mother with friends, let alone 'strangers' like Tara, but something about her made you feel at ease—like you could talk about the topic that usually tightened your chest.

Tara’s gaze softened. “No worries. That’s actually kind of sweet,” she smiled gently. “Now, tell me about that!” She pointed to an ATM machine in the corner, raising an eyebrow.

You smiled and nodded at the machine, which was in perfect condition, the screen still on. “That… is a long story!” You put your sandwich back on the plate and noticed her frowning at you. “Everybody survived!”

“Great!” She laughed, and you followed, the sound echoing through the small apartment. As the laughter died down, Tara took a deep breath, savoring the moment. She felt unexpectedly comfortable there—with you, in your quirky apartment, and with the smell of burnt cheese still lingering in the air.

In your mind, maybe that was the moment you started to hear romantic background music. You bickered and laughed together, even sharing a few silly dance moves in the kitchen after getting some water.

Tara eventually curled up on the sofa as you cleaned up the counter, chatting and laughing loudly from across the room. She teased you about your random quirks, and you responded with good-natured jabs, both of you secretly enjoying the strange, comforting ease. It didn’t take long for you to join her on the couch.

Letting the night unfold, an unexpected bond formed over random topics. Tara eventually settled on your lap, your hands resting on the skin of her waist beneath her silky shirt, facing you. The laughter slowly faded into quieter moments, one of you wrapped around the other. Lingering glances and more meaningful conversations pulled you closer until you both drifted off as dawn approached, feeling more at home than you had in a long time.

Soft morning light filtered through the large living room windows, casting a warm glow across the loft. Tara stirred and blinked awake, feeling a warm weight around her shoulders and waist. She found herself nestled against you, your arm draped over her, your breathing steady and calm.

But the quiet, comfortable intimacy triggered a rush of anxiety in her. Nudging her to move before things got too complicated. She knew she should say something, but no words came, and a sense of urgency pushed her to leave before things got more tangled.

Carefully, she slipped out from under your arm, holding her breath to keep from waking you. With deliberate silence, she stood up to put her shoes on, but one slipped from her hand and fell to the floor, betraying her. She winced and glanced back quickly, not seeing you stir from where she stood.

Your eyes blinked open as you took in the empty space beside you. You craned your neck toward the noise that had woken you, and your expression shifted from confusion to quiet disappointment as you watched her getting ready to leave without so much as a backward glance or goodbye. You held back the urge to say something, but the silence in the room felt suddenly heavy, filled with words left unsaid.

She walked down the stairs to the door, and as it clicked shut behind her, Tara hesitated for the briefest second, almost turning back. But then the weight of the moment became too much to bear. Meanwhile, you leaned back on the couch, staring at the empty space for a long moment, letting the silence settle over you like a heavy blanket.

Eventually, you got up, grabbing fresh clothes to wear before heading back to the living room. You tried to shake Tara from your mind, still feeling the ache of her sudden departure. But as you looked at the wrench, you almost stopped in your tracks. You walked over to it, picking it up in your hands and recalling how you had shared a part of your story that only your close friends knew. You thought Tara would stick around, at least for a while.

You didn’t have much more quiet time for introspection before you heard the door open. You turned your head so fast at the sound that you felt a slight disappointment upon realizing it was only your best friend.

His voice echoed up the stairs. “Yo, let's go, Y/N/N! Come on, cupcake! We’re gonna be late!”

“S'up, C?” You sat down in your computer desk chair, still not fully giving him your attention.

Chad stepped inside with his usual boisterous energy, walking around and dropping his bike helmet on the kitchen counter. He glanced at the skillet on the stove, noticing the remnants of last night's grilled cheese.

“Whoa. Did you cook? Wait… did you bring home a girl to stay over?” you didn’t respond, your eyes fixed on the large wrench in your hands, turning it over absentmindedly. Chad moved closer, munching on a leftover piece of grilled cheese as he gave you a puzzled look.

“Dude, what are you doing with that? Why do you have the giant wrench?” He took it from your hands, examining it. After a few seconds, he pieced it together. “Wait—You told her about your mom, bro? You never talk about your mom with anyone.” His tone softened.

You looked toward the door that he left open, a pained smile crossing your face as you didn’t disagree with his assumptions. “Yeah, I did. Not sure what I was thinking.”

Chad let out a low whistle, eyebrows raised. “Fuck. You’ve got it bad, don’t you? You’re in love!” He put the tool back in its place and turned back to you. “About freaking time, too. You’re totally in love!” He squealed the last part, unable to contain his excitement.

Trying to brush it off, you shook your head, a hint of bitterness coloring your tone. “Fuck that. Not that it matters. I couldn’t get her out of here fast enough.” You looked at him with a straight face, attempting to mask the sting of your words. “This girl’s a disaster… she’s a nothing.”

—

Minutes before slipping out of the house, Tara walked along the quiet sidewalk, pulling her phone from her pocket as she dialed Mindy. The line barely rang before Mindy picked up, her voice tinged with early morning sleepiness.

“Tara? What’s going on?”

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Sorry to wake you. I just… I don’t know. Remember the person I met last night? They’re… so fucking great, Mindy. We kind of walked around the city, talked, and, I don’t know, we spent the night together and fell asleep talking. It felt… different. Like I didn’t have to keep my guard up.”

“Oh, it was like that, huh?” Mindy’s voice perked up, her interest piqued. “So, what happened after all that?”

A silence stretched between them as Tara paused on the sidewalk. She hesitated, her expression clouded with uncertainty. “I… I left before they woke up.”

Mindy groaned on the other end of the line. “What??? You’re kidding. Why would you just bail? If they’re as great as you’re saying…”

“I don’t know why! Why did I?” Tara blurted, stopping mid-step and glancing back in the direction she’d come from. “What the fuck am I doing? Should I go back?”

“Seems like you already know the answer,” Mindy said gently. “Just go! Find out what this is.”

“Okay, I love you. Bye!” Tara managed a small smile. “I'm so sorry I woke you up. This whole thing is so new to me. Bye!” Her footsteps quickened as she retraced her steps to the building.

“I love you, T. You’ve got this.” Mindy smiled before hanging up, hurrying her steps.

As Tara approached the door, she noticed it was open. Furrowing her eyebrows, she stopped in her tracks when she heard Chad’s familiar voice from inside. His back was facing her, so she didn’t know who the guy was. She certainly wasn’t prepared to hear your sharper tone following in disagreement about you being in love.

“I couldn’t get her out of here fast enough.” “This girl’s a disaster… She’s a nothing.”

The words landed with a crushing weight, stealing her breath and pinning her to the spot. She felt her chest tighten, a surge of hurt and anger rising within her as she turned on her heel and walked away, quickening her pace as if the farther she got, the less it would hurt. She’d let herself be vulnerable, just for a moment, and this was what it had gotten her.

She didn’t stop until she rounded the corner, the city coming to life around her—a stark reminder of the distance she intended to keep. She had allowed herself to believe, just for a moment, that maybe things could be different. But she wouldn’t make that mistake again.

—

Six months had passed since that fateful night, and neither you nor Tara had crossed each other’s paths again. The silence between you both was deafening, leaving nothing but the bitter ache of unfinished business. You had carried on, pretending that the encounter hadn’t left a mark, but you couldn’t shake the lingering memory of Tara slipping away without a word. Each time you tried to forget, the night resurfaced—like a song stuck on repeat. Every quiet moment felt like a reminder that you’d let something slip through your fingers, even if you wouldn’t admit it to yourself.

Tara, on the other hand, had moved on—at least, that’s what she told herself. She had rekindled her relationship with Wes, her first love, and now she was engaged to him once again. There was comfort in the familiar, in the steady future she thought they were meant to have. Yet, sometimes, late at night, when she was alone, Tara’s mind wandered back to that night with you. She hated herself for it. She’d tell herself it had been a mistake, a lapse in judgment, but that didn’t stop the quiet tug in her chest—a reminder of vulnerability, of something she couldn’t fully ignore. And so, she buried it deeper, clinging to Wes and the life they were building.

Still, neither of you had expected to meet again—until tonight.

The bar was alive with energy, the thrum of chatter and laughter filling the space. Mindy and Anika had orchestrated the night, inviting everyone out for a casual reunion. You and Chad arrived a little late, fresh from a lively Korean dinner, your usual laid-back attitude masking the subtle undercurrent of tension that had become all too familiar since that night. As you made your way through the bar, exchanging handshakes and hugs, your attention briefly flitted to the crowd. Anika grinned, subtly pointing out a group of attractive girls seated near the bar.

You raised an eyebrow and nudged Chad. “Looks like there’s potential,” you joked, but the moment was fleeting.

Across the room, Tara had just stepped through the door, her heart skipping a beat when she spotted her best friend waving her over. She smiled, though it faltered when her eyes scanned the faces in the crowd. Something about tonight felt off—familiar in a way she couldn’t quite place.

Mindy greeted her enthusiastically. “Tara! Get over here!” she called. Tara made her way over, her steps slowing slightly as her gaze settled on Chad… and then it clicked. You were there. Her pulse quickened.

Chad wrapped her in a hug before Mindy nudged him aside, beaming as she gestured between you and Tara. “Y/N, come say hi!” she called, oblivious to the growing tension. “Tara, meet one of my dearest childhood friends,” Anika added with a smile, making it clear that you and she shared a long history.

The second your eyes met Tara’s, the world seemed to stop. For a fleeting moment, neither of you moved, both taken aback by the unexpected confrontation. Tara’s chest tightened. How had you ended up here? She didn’t need this. Not tonight.

Your face hardened, instinctively putting up a wall. “Hey,” you said, your voice flat.

She crossed her arms, her tone equally sharp. “Yeah.”

Mindy’s brows shot up. “Wait, do you two… know each other?”

You answered too quickly. “We’ve met.”

“Barely.” Tara’s reply came just as fast. Her eyes narrowed, the distance between you two palpable.

Anika blinked in surprise. “That’s so random.”

Tara, visibly uncomfortable, nodded toward the bar. “I’m going to get a drink,” she muttered, ready to escape.

You couldn’t resist the smirk forming on your lips. “If you’re looking to sneak out, the exit’s that way. I know that’s kinda your thing.”

The law student spun back to face you, her smile cold. “Well, I am a disaster, right?” Her words were laced with venom, a bitter jab that struck deeper than either of you cared to admit.

The group fell into an uneasy silence, but it didn’t last long. Chad, Anika, and Mindy exchanged wary glances before Mindy spoke up, attempting to diffuse the situation. “Okay! Let’s… let’s move on from this.”

Anika quickly chimed in, “Yeah, let’s head back to the table,” motioning for Chad to follow, though their eyes never left the tension between you and Tara.

You faced each other, the weight of everything left unsaid hanging in the air. The banter between you both was sharp, but beneath it, something more vulnerable flickered. There had once been something here, something deeper than either of you wanted to admit, and even now, in the harshness of your words, that connection lingered—bitter but undeniable.

You leaned in, a smirk tugging at your lips. “So, you a lawyer yet?”

Tara’s arms crossed defensively, her eyes narrowing, trying to shield herself from whatever it was you made her feel. “Why? Do you need a defense attorney?”

“I’m just curious how you passed that class on ethics,” you shot back, your tone cutting but with a hint of something softer beneath the surface. “You know, with all the bailing you do on people.”

Her jaw tightened, but something in her eyes flickered—something that said she understood exactly what you meant. It stung, more than either of you would let on.

Meanwhile, at the table, Chad plopped down, looking confused as ever. Mindy snorted, leaning back in her seat, her eyes darting between you and Tara. “I think that’s the alleged jerk who T got with when she was on her break from Wes.”

Anika’s eyes widened as the pieces clicked together. “No way. So T’s the party girl who ghosted them?”

Chad, still lost in thought, nodded slowly. “I thought she looked familiar when I saw her that day… but, you know, I don’t really see faces. I just see souls.”

Anika chuckled softly, shaking her head. “At least they made her realize Wes was the one, right?”

Back at the war field where you and Tara stood, the tension reached a boiling point. Tara’s jaw clenched as she held her left hand up, displaying the ring—a symbol of the life she was trying so hard to convince herself she wanted. “I’m engaged now,” she said sharply, the words coming out more like a challenge than a statement.

Your expression barely flickered, but deep down, something twisted inside—a pang of something you refused to name. “Good for you,” you replied, forcing a dry smile. “Where are you registered? I’ll buy you a broomstick.”

She scoffed, but her smile was tight, forced. “I’ll send you an invite. You still live at 28 Fuckboy Lane?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, shaking your head. “You do remember. See, it did mean something to you.”

For a moment, something dark and raw flickered in Tara’s eyes, and she took a step closer, her voice dropping to a low whisper filled with venom and regret. “You’ll always be my rock bottom. The night I spent with a bitch.”

Across the bar, Chad squinted, trying to make sense of the distant conversation. “Did she just call Y/N a bitch?”

Anika leaned closer to Mindy, whispering, “Do you think they’re going to physically fight?”

Mindy smirked, her gaze flicking between the two of you. “Or fuck. That’s a fine line.”

Back at the standoff, Tara’s words softened, though the bitterness still lingered. “Let’s just get through tonight for them, okay?”

You gave her a slow nod, your face unreadable but your heart tight. “Fine. I’m getting a drink, and I’ll toast to never seeing you again.” Your words were sharp, but the way you leaned closer, the tension buzzing between you, said otherwise.

Tara met your eyes, her lips curling into a slight, almost playful smile. “Cheers to that, bro.”

You were nearly nose-to-nose, the heat of your proximity almost suffocating when Mindy, Anika, and Chad appeared at your sides, gently pulling you both out of the intensity of the moment.

Mindy spoke first, her voice cutting through the tension with excitement. “Hey, guys, listen up. We actually have some big news.”

Anika’s eyes sparkled as she squeezed Mindy’s hand. “Hey, so the reason we brought you all together—we’re getting married. In Australia. And you’re all coming with us!” The couple squealed frantically.

Both you and Tara blinked in shock, the animosity between you momentarily forgotten, replaced by a different kind of weight. Australia. A wedding. A trip where you would all be together—where you would have to see each other, to deal with everything that still lay between you. There was no running from it now. You were bound by your friends, by the promises of a wedding that would force you both to face what had been left unresolved.

The room seemed to close in, and though the words hung unsaid, you both knew that this was only the beginning of a confrontation you couldn’t escape. For better or worse, you were going to have to deal with each other—whether you liked it or not.

[thatoneoldguy]

How I Think Characters Would Be Like In Bed ig

An: I don't write often, but I hope I can do some of your favs justice💀 (mostly One Piece)

🔞MDNI🔞

CW: kinda smut, Headcanons

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

Degrades the shit out of you because it makes you feel good:

"Ah fuck take it baby"

"Take it like the good little whore you are"

Trafalgar Law, Satoru Gojo, Geto Suguru, Roranoa Zoro, SABO, Nami, Nanami Kento, Aki Hayakawa, Tengen uzui, Portgas D Ace, Smoker, Shanks, Mihawk, BUGGY, Franky, Katakuri, Marco The Phoenix, Silvers Rayleigh, Yamato, Bell-mere, Koby (he would probably be too embarrassed unless he's feeling extra confident)

Degrades the shit out of you because it makes THEM feel good:

"Yeah? You fucking like that whore?"

"Fucking slut, take it all"

Donquixote Doflamingo, Douma, Sukana, Geto Suguru, Muzon, Crocodile, Ceaser Clown, Eustass Kid, Monet,

Mostly Grunts and Breathes Heavily:

Mihawk, Katakuri, Marco the Phoenix

Gentle Praises/whines Here and there:

"Yeah, just like that baby"

"You feel too damn good"

"you're so sexy"

Nico Robin, Sabo, Nanami Kento, Kyojuro Rengoku, Donquixote Rosinante, Shanks, Garp, Smoker, Buggy, Mihawk, Vivi Nefertari, Franky, God Usopp, Katakuri, Silvers Rayleigh, Yamato, Bartolomeo, Viola, Tashigi, Bell-mere, Koby

Absolutely over the top with moans and praises:

"God you're so fucking sexy"

"Oh fuck I love you so much"

"Please baby I need more of you~"

SANJI, ACE, Satoru Gojo, Buggy, Bartolomeo, KOBY

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

(These are all just my personal opinions on the characters) Thank you for your time 🙏

I'll probably add to this later, but for now I'm going to sleep <3

[insufferableprotagonistpoll]

Please note that a character currently needs at least 3 submissions to make it into the poll

That said:

Has 3 Submissions or more:

Achilles - The Iliad

Adrien Agreste - Miraculous Ladybug

Alexander Hamilton - Hamilton

Batman - DC

Blitzo - Helluva Boss

Charlie Morningstar - Hazbin Hotel

Claire Fraser - Outlander

Clary Fray/Fairchild - Shadowhunters

Daphne Bridgerton - Bridgerton

Dean Winchester - Supernatural

Dr. Heinrich Faust - Goethes Faust

Ebony Darkness Dementia Raven Way - My Immortal

Edward Elric - Fullmetal Alchemist

Elena Gilbert - Vampire Diaries

Feyre Archeron - A Court Of Thorns And Roses

Frasier Crane - Frasier

Gray Wing - Warrior Cats

Holden Caulfield - The Catcher in the Rye

Jimmy - Mouthwashing

Joker - Persona 5

Kirito - Sword Art Online

Kohaku - Dr. Stone

Makoto Itou - School Days

Marinette Dupain-Cheng - Miraculous Ladybug

Navier - Remarried Princess

Nesta Archeron - A Court of Thorns and Roses

Quentin Coldwater - The Magicians (books)

Scott Pilgrim - Scott Pilgrim

Tim Jackson Drake - DC

Tom Paris - Star Trek: Voyager

Victor Frankenstein - Frankenstein, or the Modern Prometheus

Yukitero "Yukki" Amano - Future Diary

Has 2 Submissions:

Animal Crossing New Horizons' Player Character - Animal Crossing New Horizons

Arthur Pendragon - BBC Merlin

Bakugou Katsuki - My Hero Academia

BEOWULF - BEOWULF

Bloom Peters - Winx Club

Claire - Ship It

Dawson Leery - Dawson’s Creek

Duck Dodgers - Duck Dodgers in the 24 1/2 century

Eikichi Onizuka - Great Teacher Onizuka

Elizabeth - Bioshock Burial at Sea

Elric of Melniborne - The Elric Saga

Emiya Shirou - Fate Stay Night

Eren Jaegar - Shingeki no Kyojin

Ezra Bridger - Star Wars Rebels

Hazel Lancester - The Fault In Our Stars

Jack Torrance - The Shining

James Bond - James Bond

Jaune Arc - RWBY

John Proctor - The Crucible

Odysseus - The Odyssey

Oliver Armstrong - Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood

Peppa Pig - Peppa Pig

Piper - Orange is the new Black

Rhaenyra Targaryen - House of the Dragon

Riley Matthews - Girl Meets World

Roy Musang - Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood

Sasuke - Naruto

Sheldon Cooper - Big Bang Theory

Shen Qingqiu (Shen Yuan) - Scum Villain’s Self Saving System

Snow Villiers - Final Fantasy 13

Wade Watts - Ready Player One

William Afton - FNaF Ultimate Custom Night

Zack Morris - Saved by the Bell

Has 1 Submission

Ahsoka - Ahsoka Disney+

Ahsoka Tano - Star Wars: The Clone Wars

Akiyama Shun - Ryu Ga Gotoku/Yakuza

Aragorn - Lord of the Rings

Arek - So This Is Ever After

Ataru Moroboshi - Urusei Yatsura

August Landry - One Last Stop

Ayin - Lobotomy Corporation

Beatrice "Tris" Prior - Divergent

Betty Cooper - Riverdale

Bill Dickey - The Eltingville Club/Welcome to Eltingville

Billy Buddy/Dr. Horrible - Dr. Horrible's Sing Along

Billy Hatcher - Billy Hatcher and the giant egg

Black Star - Soul Eater

Blake - Pokemon Adventures Black 2 and White 2

Bubsy - Bubsy 3D

Caleb Widogast - Critical Role

character Tommy - Dream SMP

Charley Pollard - Doctor Who

Charlie - Charlie's Inferno - That Handsome Devil

Choromatsu Matsuno - Osomatsu-san

Claire Danvers - Morganville Vampires

Clear Sky/Skystar - Warrior Cats

Colin Bridgerton - Bridgerton

Corrin - Fire Emblem Fates

Cory Matthews - Boy Meets World

Dal - Star Trek Prodigy

Damian Wayne - DC

Damon Salvatore - The Vampire Diaries

Daniel X - The Dangerous Days of Daniel X

Data - Star Trek The Next Generation

Dorrigo Evans - The Narrow Road to the Deep North book

Doug Eiffel - Wolf 359

Drizzt Do'Urden - Legend of Drizzt

Dr. Hanna Heath - People of the Book

Ellison Oswalt - Sinister

Emma Nelson - Degrassi: The Next Generation

Equality 7-2521 - Anthem

Frankie Landau Banks - The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau Banks

Galadriel Higgins - The Scholomance Trilogy

Geralt of Rivia - The Last Wish, The Witcher books

Go Siwon - A Guy Like You

Hamlet - Hamlet

Haruto Kirishima - A Town Where You Live

Haruyuki Arita - Accel World

Heathcliff - Wuthering Heights

Hermione Granger - Harry Potter

Homer Simpson - The Simpson

Howard Roark - The Fountainhead

Humbert Humbert - Lolita

James Bond - The Sean Connery James Bond Movies

James Holden - The Expanse book series

Jaypaw - Warrior Cats

Jean-Luc Picard - Star Trek The Next Generation

Jeff Winger - Community

Jim Hopper - Stranger Things

JJ - Cocomelon

Joaquin Monegro - Abel Sánchez

Jon Snow - ASoIaF

Jotaro Kujo - Jojo's Bizarre Adventure

Joy - Inside Out

Jughead Jones - Riverdale

Kade - Down to Earth Webtoon

Kazuya Tsukasa - Kamen Rider Decade

Kai - The Witch King

Kang Jinha - A Guy Like You

Katara - Avatar the Last Airbender

Katnis - Hunger Games

Kaz Kaan - Neo Yokio

Keiichi Maebara - Higurashi when they cry

Kelsier - Mistborn

Khai - Theory of Love - Thai BL Show

King Arthur - King Arthur: Legend of the Sword (2017)

Korra - Avatar: Legend of Korra

Koyomi Araragi - The Monogatari series

Kun-chan - Mirai

Lelouch Lamperouge - Code Geass

Leroy Jethro Gibbs - NCIS

Lily Blossom Bloom - It Ends With Us

Lionblaze - Warriors (Power of Three and Omen of the Stars)

Luna - Retro

Luffy - One Piece

Lyn - Fire Emblem

Makoto Naegi - Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc

Mal - Firefly

Manaow - Love Senior

Mark Watney - The Martian

Mary Poppins - Walt Disney's Mary Poppins

Merlin - BBC Merlin

Meursault - The Stranger

Mia - La La Land

Michael Burnham - Star Trek: Discovery

Mike Wheeler - Stranger Things

Miyo Sasaki - A Whisker Away

Mordecai - Regular Show

Nancy Botwin - Weeds

Natsuki Subaru - Re:Zero

Nick Carraway - The Great Gatsby

Nicole - Class of 09

Nightheart - Warrior Cats

North Italy - Hetalia

Okajima ""Rock"" Rokuro - Black Lagoon (Anime)

Okazaki Tomoya - Clannad

Okonkwo - Things Fall Apart (Chinua Achebe)

Otis Milburn - Sex Education

Patrick Bateman - American Psycho

Piper McLean - Heroes of Olympus

Pippa Fitz-Amobi - A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder

Ramona Flowers - Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World

Ramsey Snow - Game of Thrones

Rebecca Bunch - Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (TV show)

Remy the Rat - Ratatouille

Richard Cypher - Sword of Truth

Robert Langdon - The Da Vinci Code

Rodion Raskolnikov - Crime and Punishment

Rorschach - Watchmen

Rory Gilmore - Gilmore Girls

Ruby - Max & Ruby

Ryo Saeba - City Hunter

Sabrina Grimm - The Sisters Grimm

Sabrina Spellman - Chilling Adventures of Sabrina

Sami Reese - Little White Lie

Satou Kazuma - Konosuba

Senku Ishigami - Doctor Stone

Serena - Pokemon

Sherlock Holmes - BBC Sherlock

Shiori - Six Crimson Cranes

Shrek - Shrek

Souji Tendou - Kamen Rider Kabuto

Spike Witwicky - Transformers IDW comics

Star Butterfly - Star vs The Forces of Evil

Stiles Stilinski - Teen Wolf

Sydney Atherton - The Beetle

Tai Kamiya - Digimon Adventure

Takao - Garden of Words

Tara Webster - Dance Academy

Tarl Cabot - The Gor Chronicles

Teriella Rufeon - My Husband Changes Every Night

The Beheaded - Dead Cells

Tom Wachowski - The Sonic Movies

Traveller - Genshin Impact

Ukiyo Ace - Kamen Rider Geats

Vanellope von Schweetz - Ralph Breaks the internet

Velvet Crowe - Tales of Bersia

Violetta - Disney's Violetta

Winston Smith - 1984

Wolverine - X-Men

Wreck it Ralph - Ralph Breaks the Internet

Yu/Ai - Final Fantasy Unlimited

Yuri Zhivago - Doctor Zhivago

Yuusaku Godai - Maison Ikkoku

Available for Resubmission (needs at least 1 resubmission to participate)

Aang - Avatar: The Last Airbender

Alex Eagleston - YIIK

Anakin Skywalker - Star Wars

Aquamarin Hoshino - Oshi No Ko

Ash Ketchum - Pokemon

Atsuko Kagiri/Akko - Little Witch Academia

Beca Mitchell - Pitch Perfect

Brambleclaw - Warrior Cats

Coriolanus Snow - The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes

Eragon - Eragon/Inheritance Cycle

Erika Shinohara - Ookami shoujo to kuro ouji

Frank Reagan - Blue Bloods

Gregory - FNaF Security Breach

Harry Dresden - The Dresden Files

Harry DuBois - Disco Elysium

Katarina Claes - My Next Life as a Villainess

Kiris - On the Emperor's Lap

Kvothe - The Kingkiller Chronicles

Kyouya Sata - Ookami shoujo to kuro ouji

Mal - Descendants

Naofumi Iwatani - The Rising of the Shield Hero

Peter Pan - Peter Pan

Pucca - Pucca

Rand al'Thor - Wheel of Time

Rey - Star Wars

Rintaro Okabe - Steins;Gate

Scott McCall - Teen Wolf

Skullduggery Pleasant - Skullduggery Pleasant

Sophie Foster - Keeper of the Lost Cities

Stolas - Helluva Boss

Stuart Little - Stuart Little

The Tenth Doctor - Doctor Who

Tori Vega - Victorious

Wanda Maximoff - MCU

Wei (Ying) Wuxian - Mo Dao Zu Shi

Xander Harris - Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Y/N - Fanfiction

Currently unavailable for a new Round:

Aelin Ashryver Galathynius/Celaena Sardothien - Throne of Glass

Artemis Fowl - Artemis Fowl

Bella Swan - Twilight

Bloom Peters - Fate: The Winx Saga

Bojack Horseman - Bojack Horseman

Caillou - Caillou

Dr Gregory House - House MD

Elsa - Frozen

Evan Hansen - Dear Evan Hansen

Ferris Bueller - Ferris Bueller's Day off

Harry Potter - Harry Potter

Heywood Floyd - Space Odyssey

Izuku (Deku) Midoriya - Boku no Hero Academia

Kazuya Kinoshita - Rent-a-Girlfriend

Light Yagami - Death Note

Meliodas - Seven Deadly Sins

Oscar - Shark Tale

Owen Grady - Jurassic World

Peter Griffin - Family Guy

Rachel Berry - Glee

Richard Rahl - Seeker of Truth/Legend of the Seeker

Robin - Teen Titans Go

Ross Geller - Friends

Ted Mosby - How I Met Your Mother

Tony Stark - MCU

Velma - Velma

Walter White - Breaking Bad

Zoey Redbird - The House of Night

[perotovar]

hey sweeties!! kel and i put a list together of all the submissions we got for our event and split them into two masterlists of fics for you all to read and enjoy! this is my part of the list, so if you don't see yours give @beskarandblasters 's list >here< a look and see if that's where your fic/submission ended up!

we can't thank you enough for submitting and helping us give a voice to the smaller writers of the fandom ♥ oh, and for any multi chapter fics/series, we only read the first chapters to make it fair!

please make sure to read each fic's warnings carefully and happy reading! ♥

@iamskyereads - Compulsion (Ezra x ofc!Beatrice)

i can't even begin to describe how much i love this fic already. it's so smart and the worldbuilding?? incredible!! it feels like a sequel to the film, or like it could easily take place in the same universe. just brilliant. and ezra's voice is so clear here, i could hear him saying every word. and the oc, beatrice, is fascinating already, i can't wait to see where it goes!

@all-the-way-down-here - This Is Why We Fight (Dieter x nb!oc!Bell)

i love the start of this. both dieter and bell have excellent characterization and the conversations being had by every character feel so real and are so important. bell's group of friends all sound like friends i would have, and i would love to hang out with them. i love the direction this is going!

@linzels-blog - Delta Palms Tropical Resort (Frankie x f!reader)

ahh what a delightful little fic! it feels very much like an early 2000s rom com and i mean that in the best way! very cute and i love the vibes. everyone's characterization is great and i can't wait to sink my teeth into the rest of it!

@elvenmother - Context and Perspective (Marcus M x f!reader)

completely obsessed with this concept. i love a good enemies to lovers and this is such an awesome way to do it! i always see marcus m fics featuring someone without superpowers, but to have a character that's just as powerful as him? sign me up!

@kedsandtubesocks - In the Dead of the Night (Din x f!reader)

one of my absolute favorite din fics. the worldbuilding and din's creature form is incredible. i love a horror au that's flipped on its head. i also love the "creature is also the hunter" trope and this does that incredibly well. the atmosphere is off the charts.

@ghostofaboy - Rock Bottom (Frankie x original male characters)

god, i don't even know where to begin with this story. it's so raw and visceral and i can't say enough how much i enjoy it. i love reading something new and especially if it's coming from a male perspective. this is, unfortunately, something i could see frankie getting up to. frankie is such a deeply tragic character and this fic does that justice in a dark, but really intriguing way.

@ishabull - The Way We Were Drawn (Marcus P x f!reader)

ohh this is such a sweet fic. i love the imagery painted and the dynamic between marcus and reader is so sweet!

@secretelephanttattoo - Headshots (Marcus P x f!reader)

this fic is beyond sweet and so dreamy. the ideal scenario for anyone, in my humble opinion. who wouldn't want to take pictures of handsome fbi agents and then fall in love with said agent?

@lesbianhotch - you walk by and i fall to pieces (Frankie x f!reader)

THIS WAS THE CUTEST DAMN THING. i love me a nervous frankie (hello, have you read my fic lmao) and this was by far one of the cutest. i'm obsessed with reader's confidence and i just know those two are gonna be menaces once they're together. throw in some patsy cline and i am a goner. this is going on the reread list for sure.

@insomniamamma - Remain Nameless (Ezra & Cee w/ gn!reader)

ok, this one actually made me cry. i'm not sure if it's my own sleep-deprived ass that caused it but this is probably one of the most beautiful but sad fics i've read in a long time. i mean all of this in the best way because i don't normally get emotional from fics. prospect as a movie makes me emotional, though, so it doesn't surprise me that this did as well. it's such an incredible missing scene that i can, unfortunately, see absolutely happening. have some tissues nearby.

@sweetercalypso - Unlikely Friends (Joel x gn!reader)

this fic is one of my absolute favorite fics for joel. a big reason for that is i have a cat named tilly. and imagining joel reluctantly and grumpily cuddling with my tilly makes me emotional, ok??

@softstarlite - The Casualty of Love (Javi P x f!reader)

very cute! i love the awkward tension around not seeing someone for so long and there being a huge glow up maturity-wise from one of them! seeing someone in a new light is always a strange thing and i love the start to these two and their journey!

@julesonrecord - Shots (Jack x f!reader/oc)

probably one of the best post-movie fics i've ever read for jack. the way jack's trauma and therapy is handled is so fucking brilliant and tonic is one of the best fucking characters, god. eva is written so well and i just. i can't recommend this fic enough. if you like jack, hell even if you don't, give this fic a shot. i promise you'll come out of it liking it.

@coulsons-fullmetal-cellist - The Audition (Dieter x f!reader)

goddd this was so cute! dieter's insecurities don't come up very often and i absolutely love what a match he and reader make. she's so sweet with him and takes such good care of him. and he loves her so much and i love them ok

@max--phillips - A Little Lipstick Never Hurts (Max P x f!reader)

this is one of the best explorations into kink that i've ever read. it's so respectful and hot as fuck. completely obsessed with this take on max as a character and i can't get enough of the dynamic between him, reader, (and eventually dieter). it may not be everyone's cup of tea, but i highly encourage you to give it a try. max gets some well deserved lessons taught, and who doesn't love that?

@coastielaceispunk - The Gift of Lingerie (Max L x f!reader)

god, this was so fucking hot. i'm so here for a mentally healed maxwell in a healthy marriage with a fulfilling sex life lol the little bit of teasing on both their parts was beyond sexy and i loved how equal everything felt. ugh, will be rereading this one for sure.

@lotrefcp - Hidden Away (Javi P x f!reader)

i'm obsessed with a no nonsense reader with just as much attitude/sass as javi does lol i just kept reading going GET HIS ASS. an excellent start to a universe i'm excited to sink my teeth into!

@beefrobeefcal - On the Waterfront (Frankie x f!reader)

oh, this is dark. i love the vibes immediately. i've had a weird fascination with the mafia for most of my life and this has that air about it. a dark, chubby mob boss!frankie is right up my alley for sure. i love that he's still frankie tho. sensible, practical, but with an edge. mind the warnings.

@flightlessangelwings - La Estrella de Mi Vida (Javi G x f!reader)

ahhh so romantic and so tragic!! i swear, it's impossible to make javi unappealing but this fic is just so sweet and manages to make me love him even more (somehow). but i love the added drama and tension from outside forces!! i need to read the rest of it asap!

@littlemisspascal - Rockford & Roan (Tim x f!reader)

my god, i love this?? i'm not usually one for superpowers/soulmate au's but i'm in love with the practicality of this? it feels otherworldly without being too much and it's very grounded. i love the reader and the way tim is written is so believable. i love that we as a fandom have created such a visceral image of this character from only a minute's worth of footage!

@something-tofightfor & @the-blind-assassin-12 - Aphelion (Oberyn x Ellaria & f!reader)

goddd the imagery painted in this one. so heartbreaking. absolutely breathtaking. i'm a slut for vampires and i'm a slut for oberyn/ellaria. this is absolutely something i will be reading the rest of lol

@bluestar22x - The Rockford Files (Tim x f!reader)

ok this is insanely good. one of my favorite books of all time is "red dragon" by thomas harris and i felt like i was reading that again while i read this. the details of the case and the cadence of everything was top notch. obsessed with the psychic element thrown in there and i'm beyond excited to see where tim and psy end up next!

bonus:

@sweetenerobert - Fiction vs Reality (Tommy Miller x m!reader)

ohhhh my god. you give me a bisexual tattoo artist tommy miller with stretched ears and i'm supposed to be normal about it??? UNLIKELY. i am extremely tempted to edit this into reality ngl but my god. this was so fucking hot lmao

[canmom]

reading Brainwyrms by Alison Rumfitt. it's interesting. clearly part of the post-Topside wave of trans lit, with the same 'plugged in to twitter' energy, but way more British about it. which means most of the allusions are very transparent to me. it's a combo of... hardcore kink driven romance as the main arc, in a near-future setting in which TERFism goes further to the point of outright bombings, and a scifi element with alien brain parasites that it's gradually building towards.

compellingly written, I'll give it that for sure - I lay down to read for a bit and before I knew it I'd read like a third of the book. the main character's disaffected, traumatised air is well observed, and the kink doesn't hold back.

I think my reservation with it so far is that it feels a little too much like a polemic blog post about the way things are going. the MC Frankie is a trans woman with a pregnancy kink who survived a bombing at a GIC and now works in social media moderation - it's all stuff that is blatantly Relevant To The Argument, as it were. it's tricky to criticise it for that because it's like, what you're saying is that it's tightly constructed and thematically consistent and that's bad somehow? but I think I've come to feel that I like fiction to bring me something a little new and unfamiliar.

the chapter I most enjoyed so far was actually a more metaphorical, abstract interlude, in which resistance to fascism is cast as becoming 'one mass of queer flesh, which now grabbed and clawed...'; 'faces locked in kisses until they became one face. the cops would try to pull at this mass, but to no avail'. very 'faggots and their friends between revolutions' stuff.

the chapters which are presented directly as social media posts and articles are also sharply observed. i think a lot of fiction in which the internet features heavily suffers from not understanding the internet very well (Hosoda's Belle for example), but for example the chapter 'Curious Cat' where an anonymous person (blatantly Vanya) is sending messages asking for help with a parasite, and getting rebuffed or misunderstood, and the chapter where Frankie relates a murder of an instagram model by a stalker who posts about it to a reddit community devoted to her, read as very real.

a lot of the story is about responding to a terrifying political situation in sexual terms - a flashback chapter depicting Frankie having sex with some terf's pretentious brother ("with each thrust from him, she thought to herself, I am a traitor, I am a traitor to the cause"), or the preface which jokes about how in another world the author would be writing 'cool horror stories about vampires raping werewolves, ones with no subtext at all'. I prevaricate a little on whether this is a compelling examination of a theme that I do find interesting (the mysterious origins of sexual desire) or just edgy for its own sake.

this is an odd novel for me in some ways because while on one level, this is about people who I could very easily be a single degree of separation from were they real, it's also about a facet of life that is still quite alien to me and in many ways I only know about second hand. I've never been to a kink club (that wasn't in an MMO anyway lol), I'm way too much of a nerdy autist shut-in to know what it's like to be someone who would feel put out if she hadn't had sex in a week. so even before the parasite stuff, it's hard to know how much of Frankie and Vanya's stuff is real, and how much is fantasy. is this really how things go between people? it sounds kinda fun, but unlocking the door this far has already taken years.

when I've read books about the crazy lives that American trans girls supposedly live and interesting sex they're apparently having, they've been at a certain remove, the other side of the Atlantic. and this book feels sort of similar, even though I know it's set right on my doorstep. idk, I've never been good at this.

anyway I don't think I want to write fantasy novels so directly about The Discourse of the day, but it's probably good that someone is. that said, it's hard to parse like... ok, it's titled brainwyrms, and 'brain worms' is a common way of describing an obsessive, cultish idea you receive from the internet.

and like if you look at the newspapers, or twitter trans discourse, you certainly could believe that this country is on a rapid slide to putting us in camps. however, my day to day life has been... it's not without hostility, but the average street harasser isn't doing it because of a Guardian or even Mail article. this country has a subculture of deranged weirdos who hate our guts, and a political class who will happily stoke culture war shit to score points, but most normies I've met don't care one way or another that I'm trans - they might mention a family member or friend they know who's also trans. the day to day conflicts are over way more prosaic shit, the landlord vs tenant forever war, or how the kitchen should be cleaned. which of these windows is more informative of the 'overall' state of affairs? not that a more violent terf cult is a bad premise to write a novel around, but a sense of impending doom is a pretty powerful mechanism to keep you scrolling, right?

like in 20, 40 years - will the terfs really be bombing the Tavistock and banning transness, as Rumfitt imagines in her near-future setting preface? or will they go the way of those newspapers in Thatcher's time who smeared the gay movement, just as they smear us today? of passing political obsessions like 'new atheism'? I don't know the half-life of cult shit.

anyway, time to read the rest of the novel, and see how it handles this brew that it's concocted.

[adrianasunderworld]

I know I joke that "if you liked Monster High and Ever after high, you now like Twst."

But looking back, especially with the new character reveals, it hits me how similar the naming conventions of the franchises are. Thats most likely because they are so similar in premise. These beloved and iconic characters reimagined as teenagers in a school setting and all their names reflect that.

But like Fellow Honest. Riddle Rosehearts. These are some Ever After High ass names. Meanwhile in Monster High you got some characters that are basically their parents name but broken up or slightly changed. Frankenstein- Frankie Stein. Dracula-Draculaura. Frollo-Rollo. Gideon- Giddel. Ariel- Rielle.

This isn't to make fun of it or anything, just thinking out loud. Especially since I'm no better. Belle-Isabelle. Lol

[tae-rambles]

Apologies if this was answered, but what are your thoughts/analysis about the natural way Oda portrays characters internalizing/repeating beliefs from others? Such as when Law word for word told Tashigi what Doflamingo had told him regarding "the weak not choosing how they die". It was rather baffling, because though Law and Doflamingo may share the "same eyes", to reiterate anything, even if true/you agree with, that someone you truly hate had said feels foreign to me (particularly because it doesn't necessarily feel like a scene where a victim hurts others the same way they were hurt?). Secondly, the amount of scenes Luffy has talking about his dislike for "weak people" or "crying" (Shirahoshi). I know Luffy had similar sentiments when meeting Shanks but to me, everytime he repeats it, I just see Ace talking. It almost feels like a subconscious way of holding onto a part of Ace. Interested to know any other instances you noticed!

Heyo, thank you for the ask and sorry for the very late reply. I was busy and then just kept getting distracted.

To talk about the scene with Law and Tashigi we first need to keep in mind that at that point, Doflamingo was basically living rent free in Law's head as he was so focused on taking revenge on him which must have triggerd a barrage of intense emotion of hatred, pain and fear on his psyche making him slip back into his sadistic habits that he gained after the Flevance genocide. So it isn't so far fetched that he subconsciously quoted the man he saw as an inspiration for three years when his mind was most vulnerable for manipulation. However, Law puts his own twist to the meaning of this quote. when Doflamingo says "the weak do not have the right to choose how they die", he uses it to justify murder. But when Law says it, he uses it to refuse Tashigi's request to kill her. "Murder isn't my style. I'm a doctor" (- Law in ch 918) - a principle he inherited from his parents and regained after Rosinante saved him and both his literal and metaphorical heart. In conclusion, Law saying that to Tashigi was a reflection of both the people who had the most influence on his minds and actions during the whole Dressrosa saga. The words may be the same as Doflamingo's but the heart of the message carry Rosinante's love - just like Law who acts aloof and grumpy on the outside but actually has a soft heart.

When it comes to Luffy hating "crybabies", i do believe he got those words to express his feelings from Ace. I'd also like to point out that all the characters Luffy told that too were younger than him (Koby, Shirahoshi, Momonosuke) so you could say he channeled Ace's big brother energy in those instances. But it is also important to point out that unlike Ace, who would scowl at Luffy when reprimanding him for being a "crybaby" or a "weakling" (note: this is not a dis on Ace, he was going through a lot and his bad attitude is understandable), Luffy has a big grin on his face (with Koby and Shirahoshi at least, i don't remember how exactly he was with Momo, i'd have to re-read, sorry) which indicates there's no real heat behind his words since we also know what it looks like when he actually hates someone (Luffy's expressions can be scary sometimes but it's also often times very deserved reaction).

There are plenty more instances of characters internalizing and repeating beliefs of others since inherited will is one of One Piece's main themes. Some examples off the top of my head:

Luffy's idea of what a pirate is came from Shanks

Nami's soft spot for children and love of tangerines inherited from Bell-Mère

Franky's "existence is not a crime" from Tom's speech about building ships/weapons

Iceburg revitalizing Water 7's economy by founding Galley-La like Tom did by building the sea train

Robin's love of history and her determination to preserve it from the scholars of Ohara

Shirahoshi refusing to hate humans to preserve Otohime's wish for the future

Chopper wanting to become the greatest doctor inspired by Hiriluk

Sanji refusing to kick women and fight with his hands to honor Zeff

Bonney believing in Nika like Kuma

Rebecca refusing to fight offensively to fulfill Scarlett's wishes of not staining her hands with blood

Yamato being inspired by Oden to seek his own freedom

Roger inspiring many to strive to become the Pirate King

and many more... i'd be here forever if i were to name all of them

Hope that satisfies your question and i'm again really sorry it took so long for me to answer

[charlicpace]

name masterlist: love island uk edition ! some folks like to stick to names that are more 'realistic' & my favourite place to look for those names is reality tv, because... well, that's their names ! so here's a list of every name that's ever popped up on the uk version of love island ( seasons 1-8 ) so all these names are perfect for characters aged 18-40 if we're going off ( uk-based ! ) actual likelihood.

aaron

abigail

adam

afia

alex

alexandra

alexi

amy

anna

andrea

andrew

anton

amber

amelia

arabella

belle

ben

bethany

billy

biggs

brad

brett

callum

cally

camilla

cara

caroline

charlie

ched

cheyenne

chloe

chris

chyna

clarisse

coco

craig

curtis

daisy

dale

dami

dan

daniel

danielle

danica

danny

darylle

davide

dean

deji

dennon

demi

dom

ellie

elma

ellisha

emma

eva

eve

ekin-su

eyal

faye

finn

francesca

frankie

gabby

gemma

george

georgia

grace

greg

hannah

harley

harry

hayley

hugo

iain

idris

ikenna

india

jack

jacques

jade

james

jamie

jake

javi

jay

jazmine

jess

joanna

joe

john

jonny

jordan

josh

kady

kalia

katie

kaz

kazimir

kem

kendall

kieran

lacey

laura

lauren

lavena

lexi

liam

liana

liberty

lillie

lucie

lucinda

luis

luke

malia

malin

marcel

marino

maura

maria

mary

marvin

matthew

maya

max

medhy

megan

michael

mike

molly

montana

nabila

naomi

nas

natalia

nathan

niall

olivia

oliver

ollie

omar

ovie

paige

paul

poppy

priscilla

priya

sam

salma

samira

savanna

scott

shannen

shaugna

sharon

sherif

siannise

simon

sophie

summer

stephanie

stevie

steve

rachel

rebecca

remi

reese

rob

rosie

rykard

tasha

teddy

terry

theo

tina

toby

tom

tommy

tony

travis

troy

tyla

tyler

tyne

wallace

wes

yewande

zara

zoe

[criminalmutantsins]

(MK1) Johnny's Life Headcanons

I love this version of Johnny. He has the perfect mixture of arrogance and wittiness while still being kind and serious at the most important times. I did a song headcanon post for him a while back and had a fun time doing it so I wanted to do another headcanon post for him and other MK characters. If you want to read my other post the link is below.

https://www.tumblr.com/criminalmutantsins/731871981377617920/mk1-johnny-cage-song-headcanons?source=share

.......................

TW: Mentions of abuse (physical/mental), alcoholism, bullying

- Johnny is the middle child with Jimmy being the oldest and Rebecca being the youngest. Jimmy and Johnny don’t get along because Jimmy follows in his dad’s footsteps and makes fun of Johnny for not being masculine enough. He has a really good relationship with Rebecca- affectionately calling her Becky- but their eight-year age difference made it hard for them to connect. Though he is glad she didn’t suffer the same abuse as him, Johnny is also a bit jealous of her because his dad would spoil and treat her like a princess. They call and FaceTime each other once in a while to catch up. 

- Johnny’s mom was the one who fostered Johnny’s love for 80s media. Whenever she had a rare day off, Johnny and her would dance and goof around while listening to 80s. His favorite artists were ABBA, Bee Gees, and Queen.  

- Johnny’s dad physically and emotionally abused Johnny. His obsession with control and masculinity led him to hurt or insult Johnny if he deemed him “not man enough” or somehow disrespectful. For instance, if he saw Johnny liking something seen as feminine like “chick flicks” he would berate him or if Johnny forgot to do a chore then his dad would beat him. His mother was not aware of the abuse due to working a lot, Johnny’s fear of retribution from his father if he told, and the abuse only occurring when she was not around. 

- School was not easy for Johnny. He was targeted for being the quiet kid and not being interested in typical sports (football, soccer, baseball), and being a part of the cheer squad. It ended after Johnny created his Cage persona, portraying himself as confident and witty, and his martial arts skills. 

- Johnny watched a lot of 90s sitcoms like “Full House”, “Roseanne”, “Boy Meets World”, and “Saved By The Bell” to cope with his broken family- his mother working almost 24/7, his father’s abuse, and lack of a relationship with his siblings- and bullying at school. He liked (and was jealous) that every problem was solved within 22 minutes and the main character had friends/family who were always there for them. 

- He also watched many martial arts such as “Enter the Dragon,” “Crouching Tiger,” “Hidden Dragon,” “Kill Bill,” and “Karate Kid.” He liked to imagine himself being the hero who defeated all the bad guys and saved the world. On top of that, watching the films with his dad was the only good time Johnny had with him.  

- Before his mother paid for karate classes, Johnny’s dad tried teaching him boxing at home. It was a horrible time since his dad would get angry with Johnny if he “did something wrong” like messing up a move or not wanting to hit his dad. As punishment, Johnny’s dad would punch Johnny until either he got tired or Johnny attacked back. This stopped when his mom saw his bruises- thinking it was only from school bullies- and signed him up for karate class, which Johnny grew to love and practice all his life. She also paid for gymnastics class after seeing Johnny’s interest in it. 

- During his first two years in college, Johnny joined a theater group where he created many meaningful relationships, such as Kelsey, his scene partner for some plays who became a successful actress and singer on Broadway, and Frankie, who was in charge of cosmetics and became Johnny’s first personal make-up artist. After college, the troupe meets every year to catch up. 

- Johnny is pansexual. He finds anyone attractive no matter their gender. He realized this in high school, though he didn’t feel comfortable coming out until he moved out for college. 

- He met Cris when she was serving them at a restaurant the theatre trope frequented. It was an instant attraction and Johnny gave her his number along with the receipt. He was surprised to see her attending the college too (she was a business major). They dated for two years and got married the year he got his first lead role. 

- Being very lucky, Johnny got his big break after two years of working minor roles. At twenty-two, he was a major character- comedic but badass sidekick to the main character- in an action, thriller movie because the directors were impressed by his martial arts and quick wit. The film’s major success and good reception to his character led to his first film as the lead.

- Johnny treats every staff member involved in his movies very well. He always thanks the make-up artists, costume designers, and prop designers for their towards him and his scenes. Interns love him because he treats them like humans- asks about their day and thanks them for their work- instead of errand boys. After filming, he always brings them a box of donuts as a celebration. Even the scriptwriter and stunt coordinator like him since, rather than rudely demanding changes, Johnny works to collaborate with them to make his scenes (and sometimes the movie) better. The only people who disliked Johnny were the directors and it was out of bitterness that most of Johnny’s ideas were better than the original premise. 

- After five years of successful movies and a large, loyal fanbase, Johnny’s career started dwindling fast because the action/martial arts genre stopped trending at the box office and directors believed Johnny was incapable of portraying roles other than witty, comedic action characters. Though, he wanted to try more serious roles and genres other than action and martial arts movies but was scared his fans wouldn’t like it and abandon him. 

- This significant drop in his career caused Johnny’s depression to worsen and used alcohol to escape the stress and pain. His wish to rejuvenate his career became an obsession where he would rarely sleep, only focus on work, and neglect his relationship, especially his marriage. These issues and his unwillingness to recognize how damaging they are were the last straw for Cris. 

[princessmisery666]

Fries, Goodbyes & The Rest Of Our Lives

Summary: Being stood up isn’t always a bad thing. 

Warnings/Genre etc.: Fluff, lousy singing. 

W/C: 2k

Characters: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw, Mentions/Small Parts: Natasha ‘Phoenix’ Trace, Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia, Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd, Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, Harvard. 

Pairing: Rooster x Fem!Reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

Notes: I saw this post on Instagram, and it immediately made me think of Rooster. Songs: Is This Love by White Snake, Can’t Take My Eyes Off You by Frankie Valli.

A/N: the wonderful and brilliant @writercole helped with ideas, summary, and title and helped make the muses comply. 

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch

Master Lists: Top Gun: Maverick // All The Fandoms

Fries, Goodbyes & The Rest Of Our Lives

It’s been a week. It’s not even worth listing all the things that went wrong. The icing on the cake (presumably made with salt and not sugar - cause it's that kind of week) was your date canceled on you as you took a seat at a booth in the diner.

You sigh as the waitress comes to take your order, accepting that you’ve been stood up and decide you may as well eat since you’re already there.

“I’ll take a cheeseburger, side salad, no tomato, extra dressing, please.” 

The elderly waitress smiles. It’s comforting and sweet. Her name tag says Pattie, and you imagine her grandkids get overly excited whenever Granny Pat visits. “You want the fries with that?”

You ponder for half a second before declining, “No thanks.”

“You sure, hun? They’re included in the price.”

You had dirty Cajun fries from the food cart outside the office at lunch. You know the diner’s fries won’t taste as good, besides you want to leave room for dessert, so you politely decline again. 

“I’ll take them, Pattie!”

You twist in the booth to look over your shoulder and find the source. A handsome guy sitting at the bar, wearing a light yellow floral print shirt, smiles and gives a two-fingered wave. You’d clocked him when you’d entered. You’d caught his eye too, and he’d given you a broad smile. His mustache was a flashback to a decade or two ago, but he wore it well. He carried it with a sense of pride and confidence. It looked good on him. Anyone else, you’d have thought it was creepy.

“Hush now, boy,” Pattie scolds, but she’s smiling when she turns back to face you.

You chuckle, nodding toward him, “He’ll take the fries.”

Pattie takes your menu and disappears to the kitchen. You look at Mr. Mustache, who tips his beer bottle to you before bringing it to his lips.

You grab your phone and message the “No Scrubs” group. 

You: Stood up again. Where you guys at?

Cole: At that navy bar I was telling you about. Come meet us.

You: I’ve just ordered dinner. Will see how I feel after.

You scroll social media while you wait. Pattie comes by a few times, brings cutlery and sauces, and refreshes your drink. 

You hear the bell ring to signal an order’s ready, and your mouth waters when you see Pattie heading toward you. The burger looks delicious. The brioche bun glistens under the lights as the cheese melts over the edge onto the plate. It's so tall there’s a wooden skewer through the top to keep it in place, and the fries are fat and look perfectly crispy.  

Pattie sets the plate down, “Enjoy, sweetheart,” and you swallow before drool slips out.

Just as you pull the skewer out of the burger, you hear, “Those are mine, remember.”

You laugh, twisting to look at him again. He’s got a cheerful smirk, but his brow is raised as if challenging you. “Why don’t you join me?” you offer. 

He grabs his beer and twists off his stool. The smile remains while he saunters over, and you can’t take your eyes off him, admiring the sway of his hips. He’s confident in an almost bashful way. The open floral shirt shows a white shirt beneath it, and the contrast against his tanned skin looks as edible as your burger. 

“Tell me,” he says, grabbing a fry and biting off the end. “What kind of psychopath doesn’t have fries with their burger?”

You shrug, “The same kind that offers to take a stranger's fries.”

“Touché,” he chuckles. 

You laugh, explaining, “I had fries at lunch and want dessert.”

 He nods as if now understanding your logic. “Ah, she’s got a sweet tooth.” 

“I’ve heard that the chocolate malt here is the best in the state. I can’t pass that up,” you grin.

“Well, that is true,” he shrugs, popping another fry into his mouth. “Make or break question here, whipped cream on top of the shake?”

“I fear this will affect our budding friendship,” you tease, “but ab-so-lutely whipped cream on top of the shake. Among other places,” you wink. 

His boldness flounders for half a second, recognizing he’s met his match, but he recovers quickly. Wetting his lips and giving a cheeky smile. “Are you flirting with me?” 

“Depends.” 

“On what?”

“I don’t see a ring, and you’re here alone. Are you single?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes, I’m definitely flirting with you.”

His smile widens and remains while the conversation flows and the two of you eat. Flirtations and laughter pass back and forth effortlessly.

Your phone chimes with another message, and you see the ‘No Scrubs’ group chat has two unread messages. You don’t want to be rude and pick it up to reply, but you know if you don’t, they’ll likely call to make sure you’re okay. 

“Somewhere else you need to be?” he asks, a hint of disappointment in his voice that he attempts to hide behind a sip of beer.

“No, just some friends trying to get me to go meet them at some Navy bar.” You roll your eyes and type a quick ‘maybe’ before locking your phone, setting it face down on the table.

“Navy bar? The Hard Deck?” he questions, tilting his head to the side.

“I think that’s what Cole said. Do you know it?”

“That’s actually where I’m headed after. I could give you a ride. If you need one, that is.”

“I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Bradley, but my friends call me Rooster.”

“Rooster?” you laugh. “Please tell me there’s a good story there.”

“There might be. I guess that depends on if you want to hear it.”

“How about you tell me on the way to the bar?”

The open window lifts your hair slightly, and every time Rooster gets a hit of your perfume, he inhales deeply, savoring it. 

He sticks to the speed limit, if not a little below it. He’s not quite ready to say goodbye to you. He’s never had such an instant, effortless connection with someone, and he wants to make it last as long as possible.

You’d laughed at the story about his name. You’d have never guessed that it was a nickname his uncle gave him when he was a kid. The radio is playing at a low volume, but as soon as the opening bars of Is This Love by White Snake start, you lean over and crank the volume as loud as it will go, singing along as if he isn’t there.

“Is this love that I'm feeling?” you sing, holding a pretend microphone. “Is this the love that I've been searching for? Is this love, or am I dreaming? This must be love. 'Cause, it's really got a hold on me. A hold on me.” 

You can’t hold a tune, and your voice cracks a few times, but still, you belt it out with vigor, and Rooster thinks he may be falling in love. Did Pattie put something in those fries? 

“Sorry,” you say, settling back into your seat, “that’s one of my favorites.” 

It’s one of my favorites now too. But he doesn’t say it. Instead, he laughs, “I never would’ve guessed.”

“Are you not a car karaoke kinda guy?” you ask. “You seem like you like to sing along.” 

“I’ve been known to hold a few car concerts,” he admits, “but I didn’t want to interrupt your flow.” 

“Can you sing as good as me?”

He looks at you and sees the jesting expression. You know you can’t sing, and you don’t care one little bit.

“I’d love to serenade you,” he says, “but unfortunately, we’re here.”

“Some other time?” you ask, and he swears you sound hopeful.

Rooster opens the Hard Deck door, and as soon as he hears the hustle and bustle from inside, he wishes he’d suggested you stay at the diner. Holding the door open, he gestures for you to enter first, and you smile a thanks as you pass by.

You stop a few feet inside, scanning the room as he stands beside you. This is the one time he hopes Hangman is being himself and has, by some miracle, coaxed your friends over to the group so Rooster has an excuse to keep talking to you. 

“Those are my friends over there,” you say, dashing all his hopes as you point to the pool tables on the opposite side of the room. 

“I’m over there,” Rooster says, pointing to where the Dagger squad is assembled. 

“Thanks for the ride.”

“Thanks for the fries.” 

“Anytime.” 

“Enjoy the rest of your night.” 

“You too.” 

There’s a pause, neither of you knowing what to do. You rise to the tips of your toes, and he dips to let you place a gentle kiss on his cheek. 

His cheeks quickly flush, hearing the jeers, shouts, and wolf whistles, but you drop back down with a laugh.

“Sorry,” he says. “They’re a bunch of idiots.”

He scolds himself for being an idiot as you walk away. He should invite you over or ask for your number, but he’s suddenly tongue-tied. He stares at you, frozen to the spot, long enough to see your friends turn to look at him as you settle into your seat.

Throughout the night, flirtatious glances are passed back and forth, and smiles exchanged when they linger. Of course, it’s Hangman who notices the consequence of Rooster’s error. 

“Looks like you lose again, Rooster,” the blond pilot remarks, a way too smug grin showing off his perfectly white teeth. “Too snug on that perch, and Harvard is gonna take your lady right out from under your beak.”

Rooster doesn’t care if it proves Hangman’s point. He looks directly at you. Harvard is whispering in your ear. You're smiling, but Rooster thinks it's more of a polite, courteous smile than genuine interest. 

But it’s the kick he needs to take action. He looks to Phoenix, Bob, and Mickey, almost pleading, “I need your help.” 

Phoenix nods once, Bob smiles, and Mickey asks, “What?”

“He wants to do the Goose move,” Phoenix explains without Bradley needing to tell her any more. 

“What’s the Goose move?”

“It’s the move his Dad did to get his Mom,” Bob says. 

“I don’t know what that is,” Mickey shrugs. 

“Technically, we've been doing it for years,” Rooster says, “it’s just that this time, it involves my future wife.”

“So, no pressure,” Bob gulps. 

“Relax. I’ve got a plan,” Phoenix winks, gesturing for the three guys to come closer.

Harvard doesn’t seem all that smart, and you wonder if it's an ironic nickname or callsign, as Rooster had explained. Harvard certainly doesn’t understand body language. You’ve tried, unsuccessfully, to put some distance between you three times. The third time he slides his arm around your shoulders. 

Before you can shrug, his arm slips off, and suddenly, a pretty brunette woman is in his place. “Hi,” she says brightly, her back to a flustered-looking Harvard. “I’m Phoenix, and this is Fanboy. We’re friends with Rooster.” 

Butterflies dance in your stomach. Before she can say anymore or you have a chance to wonder why he’s sent his friends to rescue you, the jukebox cuts off, and a collective groan echoes around the room. 

“That was supposed to happen,” Phoenix smiles. Fanboy is speaking quietly to Harvard, and he doesn’t seem happy about whatever is being said, but you're grateful for the interruption. 

There’s a soft twinkling from a piano somewhere in the room, and after a few more notes, you find the source. Phoenix continues, “That’s Bob, and you’ve met Rooster.” 

Your eyes drift up from the piano player and land on Bradley, fingers tapping the wooden top, while Bob continues to find the right melody.

Rooster’s eyes are locked on you, a shy smirk lifting the corner of his mustache. 

“Thanks for the save,” you say to Phoenix but keep your eyes on Rooster. 

“Well, it wasn’t the actual intention, but Harvard can be a bit…” she trails off.

“Thick?” 

“That’s a good word for him,” she laughs.

The bright random notes turn into a clear, rich melody that flows through the room moments before the smooth baritone of Rooster’s voice fills the air. “You’re just too good to be true. Can’t take my eyes off of you.”

Damn, he can sing! 

Taking the lyrics literally, he doesn’t avert his eyes while he serenades you. You feel Phoenix’s hand at your elbow, but you can’t look away from the gorgeous man belting out a song just for you. Only when he draws closer do you realize she’s guiding you to him. 

The bar is packed, and the crowd gathers around the piano, but somehow Rooster is always in your line of sight, and then Fanboy is in front of you, splitting the crowd to let you through. 

It feels surreal but magical when somehow there’s a clear path straight to Rooster. It looks like an aisle leading to an altar, and the man that awaits you has been sent from the heavens because he’s gorgeous, kind, funny, and clearly has a talent for commanding a room. You wonder what else you could uncover, given some time.

“At long last, love has arrived,” Rooster sings as you reach his side. Phoenix slips away as you reach for Bradley’s outstretched hand. 

Definitely an altar, and you’ll happily worship here for eternity. Interlocking your fingers with his, he pulls you against him. “Now that I found you, stay,” it’s more than a song, it's a question, and you nod. 

Slowly, he inches closer, and the crowd takes over, singing the chorus, when his lips connect with yours and the world melts away. 

Tag List Info

Take To The Skies: @alexxavicry / @b3autyfuldisast3r / @fandom-princess-forevermore / @imjess-themess / @justagirlinafandomworld / @leigh70 / @letsbys-library / @shanimallina87 / @wildbornsiren / @writercole / @xoxabs88xox / @atarmychick007

Master Lists: Top Gun: Maverick // All The Fandoms

[thlayli-ra]

Succubus!

(Sequel to 'I Prayed For This...')

Characters - Drew McIntyre, CM Punk, Jinder Mahal, The Undertaker, Frankie Calaway (OC)

Pairings - Drew McIntyre/CM Punk, Drew McIntyre/Jinder Mahal, CM Punk/The Undertaker

AU - Valetverse (created by Syreina)

Rating - Mature (18+)

Warnings - Male slash, dom/sub undertones, non-con elements, forced kissing, forced bondage, gagging, abduction, choking, masturbation, mentions of past abuse, strong language, mild violence

Words - ~4,800 (yeah, it's long, sorry!)

Background Info - In a world where women no longer exist, society is split into two; dominants (the ruling class) and valets (who possess the 'inualidus chromosome' that allows them to bear children). Stripped of basic human rights, valets are expected to be entirely subservient to the dominants that claim them and few are prized higher than the valets of the WWE.

Summary - The rot takes hold...

From the moment the bell rung it was sheer brutality. The combatants had gone to war, firing every weapon in their arsenal and while there had been advances on both sides, there was only ever going to be one winner. When Drew McIntyre landed the devastating Claymore that almost decapitated CM Punk, he knew it was over. Throwing himself across Punk, he pulled his leg back to deepen the pin while the referee counted the one, two, three.

And it was all over! He had won!

Standing up, he yanked his wrist out of the ref's grasp - he didn't give a damn about posturing to the crowd. All he cared about was the battered, broken and bloodied valet lying crumpled at his feet. Punk groaned as he slowly turned onto his stomach, curling an arm around his bruised ribs. From above, Drew watched the tattooed man manoeuvre his leg out to the side to steady himself, the way he usually did whenever he found himself face-down on the canvas.

Completely oblivious to the danger lurking above him.

Stepping closer, Drew nudged his boot between Punk's open legs. The valet jerked with shock as the dominant's toe bumped him through his trunks. One dazed eye creaked open to plead silently with the victorious Scotsman but Drew only sneered back.

The referee scuttled over with the papers and Drew snatched them off of him, signing his name on the dotted line before there could be any interference. The very second that the deed was done, he crouched down, bending his entire frame over his fallen foe and presented the contract to him.

'Look at this, Punk,' he taunted, grabbing up a fistful of the valet's dark, damp hair and pressing his face flat against the paper, smearing the fresh ink with Punk's blood and sweat. 'What did I tell you? I said I'd make you my bitch and I have. Your arse belongs to me now!'

A taped palm connected with the middle of Drew's chest, shoving him back. The Scotsman chuckled menacingly at the weak retort, throwing the contract aside so that he could grab his newly won prize by the ears.

'You can fight me all you want, it doesn't change a damn thing,' he yelled in the valet's face. 'In the eyes of the law, you are mine and there's nothing you can do about it. So if I want to do this-' he pulled Punk towards him, ramming their lips together harshly. The fighting spirit inside his beaten opponent flared up, and Punk got his fingers in between their foreheads, pushing Drew off but the Scot was not to be denied, cackling as he pinned Punk's wrist to the mat and kissed him again. Forcing his tongue between Punk's pursed lips and swirling it around obscenely, forgetting his own warning of 'PG, brother'.

Yanking him up by his snagged wrist, Drew tossed the weary valet over his shoulder before retrieving his papers then walking up the ramp with both of his prizes, grinning from ear-to-ear despite the ungodly blare of boos from the crowd.

The dominant ignored the looks and frowns that awaited him in gorilla, striding right past them with an iron grip on Punk's legs, squeezing them tight to his chest. His body was so warm and wet from the ring, the bare skin of his thighs sticking to Drew's sweaty pecs. He couldn't wait to shed the rest of his new pet's gear and see what delicacies lay underneath.

'Now then, Punky,' he sang, marching down the hallways of the backstage area. 'Where's your private locker room? Big star like you, gotta have your own locker room, right?'

Eventually he found the door with the name 'CM Punk' taped to it and went inside, making sure to snap the lock shut behind him before dumping his prize onto the floor. Punk let out a weak cry as his battered body collided with the unforgiving concrete.

'You know, when you make such sweet sounds like that it's hard not to bend you over that bench and claim you right here, right now.' Drew dug the toe of his boot underneath Punk's chin and tilted it back. 'But luckily for you, I'm a patient man. I can wait. Now, let's get you packed up and take you back to your new home, shall we?'

Without warning, the wounded wrestler fought back. Grabbing Drew's ankle, Punk flung his arm up, aiming for a brutal low blow but the dominant was able to step out of harm's way before the taped fist hit its target. The shock on Drew's face dissolved into rage and he savagely smashed his boot into Punk's side, kicking him again and again, all while laughing maniacally.

'Haven't you learnt yet? Didn't I make myself clear in that ring?' Drew tossed back his mop of sweaty hair as Punk curled in on himself, coughing feebly with pain. 'You can't beat me, Punk so stop trying. Just accept that I am your new dominant now. You belong to me! Did you not see your nice new name on your papers. You're no longer Phil Calaway, you're now Phil Galloway. Not that different, really, if you think about it. You should get used to that easy enough.'

From down on the floor, Punk rasped something out, the words choked by another harsh cough.

'What was that?' Drew said, bending in close to the beaten down valet.

'Fuck... you!'

Drew went silent, gritting his teeth behind pursed lips. His fingers tensing into tight fists. He took in a sharp breath to calm himself before he beat the defiant valet black and blue.

'You want to do this the hard way, Punk?' He couldn't hide the snarl in his voice 'Fine, then we do this the hard way.'

Leaping up to his feet, he went to Punk's bags, ransacking his belongings until he found exactly what he was looking for. He chuckled menacingly as he grabbed up a roll of the valet's wrist tape. 'This'll do nicely,' he smirked, yanking the end loose with a loud ssrrrrkkkk. 'Let's start by shutting up that big mouth of yours.'

The second Drew grabbed his jaw and forced the tape over his lips, Punk yelled out, but it was too late and his protests were soon muffled by layers and layers of white tape being wrapped around his lower face. Once firmly gagged, Drew thrust his newly acquired prize flush against the floor and straddled the small of his back, capturing both of Punk's frantically flailing wrists. Despite the valet's struggles, his hands were soon bound together with tape, snaring them behind his back. His ankles were next to follow until the tattooed valet was entirely restrained. Defenceless.

It didn't seem to matter to the older man, however. Once Drew got up off of him, he began to thrash against his binds, desperate to loosen them and break free, all while spitting stifled insults from behind his gag.

Drew wasn't finished with him. Amongst the valet's belongings, he spotted a bundle of faded black fabric. Punk's hoodie! He lifted it up to admire the weathered garment, even going so far as to press it against his nose and take a deep breath. It reeked of Punk. That same alluring scent that permeated the very air of his private locker room, the same aroma that had hung around them in the ring, the intensity becoming too hard to bear whenever they were pressed together in close contact. Drew had enjoyed the first taste of his new pet and he looked forward to becoming more intimately acquainted with it later.

For now...

He grabbed the off-white tie of the hoodie and pulled the entire length out. This, he used to fasten Punk's taped wrists and ankles together, a nasty final insult to the defeated valet. Gagged, hog-tied and exhausted, his semi-nude body bruised and bleeding, Punk finally surrendered to his immediate fate. Placing his sticky cheek against the cement floor, he went quiet and still, focusing on conserving his energy for later.

For he would need it, Drew would make damn sure of that!

Stuffing Punk's belongings into his bags, he packed them into his rental before retrieving his biggest prize of the night. Opening the trunk of his car, he carefully placed the fettered valet inside, stepping back to admire the breathtaking sight of the fear in Punk's wide hazel eyes. No shiny golden belt, no jewel-encrusted crown, no title, not even a Wrestlemania moment, could ever rival the status of the trophy he currently had in his possession, quivering in the confined space.

'A word of advise?' Drew said, tilting his head to the side. 'Enjoy the drive. Because once we reach our destination...' he sneered viciously, '..I'm going to make your life a living hell.'

He slammed the trunk shut.

'HAH!'

Drew shot awake, beaded in cold sweat. He glanced around him, recognising his bedroom back in his apartment. It was early morning and the first soft rays of light were drifting in through the drapes. Little dapples of spring sunshine danced onto the man beside him in bed. Jinder, his husband. The man he loved.

The Scot scrubbed a hand over his damp face. A dream. It was all just a fucked-up dream. His shoulders stooped when he spied the tented bed covers at his hips. He had an impressive case of morning wood.

But why? Because of CM fucking Punk?

Checking that Jinder was still asleep, Drew slipped out of bed and tip-toed into the bathroom. The first thing he did was splash his face in ice-cold water, try to cleanse away the rot from his brain. It was getting harder each day, like mould left untreated in the shower tray, it kept coming back worse and worse.

CM fucking Punk!

He didn't even like Punk. He didn't even like valets! Yes, he had been married to one once but that had been a marriage of convenience. Dominants weren't meant to love other dominants, least not without a hot piece of valet ass sandwiched between them, but Drew had never felt anything for the gentler sex. Not even for Curtis, who had been nothing but sweet and caring to them both, even though he knew there was no love involved in their set-up.

When Jinder was defeated by Ryback in the match that lost them Curtis, Drew wasn't upset. He'd went to his husband's side and held his cheeks in his large hands. 'I'm sorry,' Jinder had said, on the verge of tears.

In reply, Drew kissed him, in plain sight, in front of the WWE Universe, in front of the cameras, in front of everybody. 'We don't need him,' he replied. 'Now we can be us. Who we really are.'

They had paid dearly for their true selves; both of them were fired by the company. But times had changed and attitudes had softened and the pair had eventually been welcomed back with open arms. The atmosphere was certainly less tense with Hunter running things.

So why was Drew suddenly so... unsatisfied? And why was CM fucking Punk of all people harassing him in his sleep? Haunting his dreams. More than his dreams, he was afraid to admit. The past few weeks, he had never strayed far from the Scotsman's thoughts even when awake.

The cold water did nothing to cool the solidness between his legs so Drew stood over the toilet bowl. Grabbing hold of his massive shaft, he began to pump it with his fist, pulling his foreskin back over his leaking head as far as it would go then folding it back again. A groan sounded in his chest, almost like a tiger's growl. He thought of Jinder, thought of his big hands roughly pushing him down onto the sheets, kissing his neck, fingers grasping the hair of his chest.

The pumping hand quickened.

Those calloused fingers pinched tight around his nipples, teasing them up into stiff peaks before sucking them into a warm mouth. Drew screwed his eyes shut, imagining the soft tongue soothing his swollen skin. Envisioning the coolness of the metal ball flicking against his dusky-

Wait...

The head lifted and he saw his lover's face. It was not Jinder!

Paler skin, softer features. Eyes shining olive green in the hazy morning light. Thin lips broke out into a lop-sided grin, climbing up its right cheek to crinkle the crow's feet at the corner of its eye. The tongue, that had moments before been teasing Drew's nipple, flicked out, rubbing the ball stud against the metal ring pierced through its bottom lip.

Drew gave a strangled gasp, perfectly capturing Punk's face in his mind's eye, blurring his image from both past and present. His cock was screaming for more and he indulged it, pumping vigorously.

The succubus stared down at him from on high, an angel with burnt wings. A demon.

'Come on, Drew,' it scoffed, the tip of its pink tongue rubbing the lip ring back and forth. 'You know by now, I'm not a demon.' The pale skin deepened to a blood red, fire burning in its eyes as two boned horns grew out of its forehead. 'When pushed, I'm Satan himself.'

The harder Drew jerked himself to his climax, the tighter he grit his teeth, hoping against hope that no noise spilled from his lips for Jinder to hear.

He reached out his hands, wrapped them around the devil's throat. And squeezed. The pierced grin widened, hazel eyes rolling into the back of its skull as Drew pressed his thumbs in deeper. Gasping for air, the demon howled like a cat in heat-

'Urrrggggffff,' Drew came hard, strings of his seed spilling out of him into the toilet bowl. Post-climax exhaustion hit and he steadied his wobbly arms against the wall, pressing his flushed cheek onto the cool tile.

Knock, knock, knock. 'Hey Andrew? You ok in there?'

Drew straightened up with a grunt, quickly shoving himself back into his boxer shorts and flushing his sin away. One last glance into the mirror, he shook any thought of Punk from his mind and went to the door. Jinder looked half-asleep but worried. They'd been married over a decade and yet he still cared so much for the Scotsman.

It made Drew's heart ache to lie to him. 'Yeah, fine,' he said with a shrug. 'Just needed a pish.'

Jinder snorted a laugh. He knew he would and it did the job, breaking the tension immediately. 'Oh good,' his husband smiled, running a hand over his face 'I was worried it was the chowder I made last night.'

'Hah, no,' Drew flopped onto the bed and scrubbed his fists against his bleary eyes. Jinder snuggled into his side, wrapping his arm around him.

'What are you thinking about?' he asked out of the blue.

'How did you know I was thinking?'

'It's your eyebrows. They're like two drunk caterpillars when you've got something on your mind, and you get that faraway look in your eye.'

'Hmm, I'm that transparent, am I?' Drew didn't like that. He hoped that Jinder was the only one who could read his secrets so easily.

'So?'

Drew took in a deep breath. 'I was thinking about... Curtis.'

Jinder opened his eyes and frowned up at his husband. 'Do you miss him?'

'Do you?' Drew shot back.

The Canadian thought for a moment. 'Sometimes. I miss the mornings like this where we would all wake up together in each other's arms. I miss having somebody to complain about you to.' Drew's chest heaved with a chuckle. 'I do miss having a valet's touch around here - our place is such a dominant's pad.'

'It's not that bad.'

'No, but, it was nice, you know.' Jinder lifted his head in order to look directly into his husband's eyes. 'Why? Has somebody caught your eye?'

Drew felt a sharp pain in his chest. A pang of panic before spilling his darkest thoughts.

'No,' he said. 'Nobody. Except you.'

The pair kissed sweetly and Jinder snuggled back into his side, falling into a peaceful sleep. But Drew's mind was wracked with alarm.

He hadn't lied. Not technically. Hearing Jinder reminiscing about their time with Curtis had made Drew deeply uncomfortable. He didn't want that, he didn't want sweet, domestic fluff. Not when it came to him.

Drew didn't want to share.

He wanted Punk all to himself!

The Calaway Residence, Texas

'Urgh!' Phil grumped as he flopped onto the chair.

Mark glanced up at his husband over the top of his newspaper, noting his gym wear which confirmed his suspicions that the valet had gotten up early to do his physio therapy exercises. 'I made you some breakfast.'

Phil looked down into his bowl of oats and dried fruit. 'Why do you hate me so fucking much?'

'Would you rather I made you a stack of pancakes dripping with syrup?'

'YES!' Phil shot back, then scrunched up his nose. 'No. Not like I can work it off cause of this fucking arm.'

'You're getting there.'

'Not fast enough. Doc says it's still not one hundred percent.' He stared forlornly into his bowl. 'Just when I had finally worked all the baby fat off too.'

'I like you with a bit more meat,' Mark replied warmly. 'Especially your cute little gopher cheeks.'

'Well say goodbye to them,' Phil scoffed. 'Them, the stomach rolls, the muffin tops. It'll all be gone by the time I'm done with them.'

'Pity,' Mark noted, turning the page of his paper.

Shoving his oats around the bowl, Phil moped. 'Maybe I'll stop by the bakery later and stare in through the window. If I look pathetic enough then maybe one of the guys will let me lick one.' His eyes was suddenly drawn to the door leading to the hallway and a shadowy figure trying to sneak past. 'Hey! HEY YOU! Get your ass in here right now!'

With a theatrical roll of his eyes, a young valet aged around nine years walked in. 'What?' he huffed.

'Don't 'what' your mother,' Phil scolded his son. 'The hell are you wearing?'

'A shirt.'

'Well I can see it's a shirt. Where'd you get it? Was it from Uncle Sting?'

The boy looked at his mother like he was an idiot. 'It's yours.'

Phil paused. Looking again at the faded black T-shirt, he read the words CM Punk. Welcome to Chicago, motherfucker.

'Huh...' he hushed out, feeling a small lump in his throat. He smiled softly, his eyes crinkling with pride. 'Well ok then,' he grinned, ruffling the boy's hair. 'Go get 'em, Frankenstein.'

'You do know that Frankenstein was the name of the scientist?'

'Exactly! And you're the monster I created.' Before his son could protest, Phil planted a kiss on his forehead.

'Urgh, you're so embarrassing!' The boy wriggled out of his mother's grasp and grabbed up his skateboard.

'Love you, Frankie,' Mark called out to the boy as he left.

'Love you too, Dad.'

'Aww, he's a good kid,' Phil beamed.

'He's gonna get called up to the principal's office about that shirt,' Mark warned.

'Principal Mendoza doesn't talk to me anymore, you know that.'

Mark let out a ragged sigh. 'Fine,' he grunted, 'I'll swing by after my meeting later.'

'Thank you, honey!' Phil teased, grudgingly picking up his spoon to eat his breakfast as he swiped through his phone. Moments later, he let out a loud snort of laughter. 'Can't believe this, he's at it again.' Mark cocked an eyebrow at his husband. 'Drew McIntyre,' Phil explained without being asked. 'Guy can't post a single thing on social media without mentioning me. Must be desperate for traffic or something.'

Mark put down his paper and eyed his husband warily. 'Should I be concerned?'

Phil's brows shot up his forehead. 'About Drew McIntyre? Pfft! God no! He's harmless.' Mark looked unconvinced, however. 'We go way back, believe me. I know him and well... let's just say I'm not his type.' Getting the hint, Mark lifted his paper back up. 'Nah, I'm not worried about him. Seth on the other hand...'

'Still having problems?'

Letting out a long breath through his crooked nose, Phil pursed his lips irritably. 'Guy's still pissed with me, not really sure why. Think it has something to do about me leaving the way I did.'

Mark's furrowed his brows. 'He knows why you did, right?'

'Kinda,' the valet returned, his face turning sad and pensive as he finished off his bowl. 'About the same as everybody else does. I dunno... we weren't really speaking at the time after all that shit went down with Dean and Roman. Maybe that's why he's pissed, or maybe it's because Dean (or Jon, whatever he's calling himself these days) and I had our little falling out at AEW.'

'He was hardly innocent in that fiasco either,' Mark pointed out, flatly, making Phil smile; his husband liked to play the tough guy but he always had the valet's back.

'Yeah, well, neither was I,' Phil said, grabbing up his husband's plate and cutlery to take to the sink. 'You know, Dean was the only guy back then who tried to help me out. He really put his neck on the line for me. And look how I repaid him. Can't blame Seth really, if he only knew what really happened, how bad it got...'

Phil went quiet.

Mark looked up and found his husband staring into the middle of the table, as if lost in a trance. It was then that he spotted his inked fist wrapped tightly around his discarded fork, blood dripping from where he was squeezing the prongs into his palm.

Throwing his paper down, Mark reached across the table, placing his large hand over his husband's quivering digits. Phil flinched at the touch, his frightened eyes finding Mark's soft greens.

'Phil, look at me,' Mark said, his voice gentle but firm. 'You're ok, you're here with me.'

'I'm ok,' the valet repeated. 'I'm here with you.'

'You're here with me.'

'I'm here with you.'

'I need you to breathe, ok? In.'

'In.'

'Out'

'Out.'

They continued this pattern until Phil's breathing steadied. Shaking his head, he flickered back to his surroundings, finding his husband's concerned face. 'I'm good,' he said at last. 'I'm ok.' Slowly, tentatively, Mark let go. 'Shit, haven't had one of those for a while.'

His husband watched him silently. 'You know, if it's too much for you, Phil, going back to WWE, you don't have to-'

'It's not,' the tattooed valet assured his husband. 'It's really not. It... feels different there now. Now that they're gone. I dunno how to explain, it's just... different. And anyway-' Punk shook out his neck and shoulders, hardened his features. 'I've got to go back. I've got something to prove. It's just like it was with Cody, I have unfinished business there.'

Mark only nodded, letting his husband get his thoughts out. Listening closely.

'I'm sick of holding on to all this... shame! The way people look at me, the way they look at Frankie. I fucking love my kid and I'm sick of people using him against me all the time, like he's some kind of, I dunno, punishment for what happened to me. He deserves better than that. We both deserve better than that.'

'I understand,' Mark said solemnly.

'And if I don't go back? Then he wins. Again! It's just yet another thing that he took away from me. And I'm fucking sick of him controlling my life.'

Mark lowered his head, unable to hide his guilt. 'I understand,' he said again, 'and you know that I'm here for you, no matter what. If you need to do this, then I'll support you but if it gets to be too much and you want to leave, I'll support that too.'

'I know,' Phil smiled softly, reaching over to place his hand over Mark's, caressing the large knuckles with his thumb. 'I love you.'

'I love you too. So much. You have no idea.'

'Oh, I do, believe me,' Phil teased.

'And you promise me, at the first sign of trouble-'

'There won't be any trouble.'

'Phil...'

The valet sighed. He couldn't deny that he had a long storied history of getting on the wrong side of the wrong types of people. But that was back then, when he was young and reckless. Well... more reckless. He was also prettier back then. These days there were too many wrinkles on his face and greys in his beard, the skin hung looser on his frame and his C-section scar was clear across his lower belly. He loved that scar, it was his favourite one of them all, for it gave him his precious son, but a lot of dominants looked at it with disgust. Like he was spoilt goods, well passed its sell-by date.

Not that he gave a single shit. For once in his life, he didn't have to worry about dominants. He could finally allow himself to relax, finally allow himself to be happy. He was fulfilled with his home life and now, he wanted that same satisfaction with his wrestling career, which had been stopped all too abruptly, both when he left WWE and at AEW.

It was time for him to finally carve out the legacy he was destined for.

* * *

It was obvious that the manager recognised Drew by the way he lavished him with a full escorted tour of the self-storage lot. Drew had rejected the first three options, finding them too close to the centre. Made sense that most people preferred the units on the inside - it was more secure there - but Drew wanted one as far away from prying eyes (and ears) as possible.

'Ah, here it is,' the manager said, inputting the code on the number pad. Drew liked the look of this one. On a corner, right at the edge. Beyond the chain link fence there was nothing but empty wasteland for several miles. The door slid up and the manager held out his arm for Drew to go inside. The Scotsman scanned the interior of the storage unit, his imagination hard at work.

It needed some work done. Sound-proofing mainly. There was a lot of wall space to cover to ensure that not even the smallest peep escaped to the outside and alerted a suspicious passer-by. He would have Punk gagged most of the time, but considering the activities he had planned for the pair of them, it seemed a shame to not be able to hear him. To hear those delightful moans and whimpers and cries. To hear him pleading for Drew to stop before howling for more.

Walking around the unit, he looked for the best places he could install either a bar or a ring into the wall to attach chains that he could tether to Punk's wrists or ankles. Perhaps, some kind of dog collar. Aye, leash the bastard like the dog he is. He'd probably like that. Maybe he could affix a hook to the ceiling that he could use to dangle the little shit when he misbehaved.

Everything else was easy enough to get. A mattress, a bucket. They'd be the only home comforts Punk would be allowed. Drew could envision it so perfectly. Imagining the tattooed valet huddled against the wall, stripped completely bare, his pale skin filthy with grime. Chains softly clinking as he shivered with the cold. If he pleased his dominant, then he may earn himself a blanket to keep himself warm.

But Drew knew it would take a long, sustained effort to tame the wayward valet. He was notoriously fiery, rebellious and stubborn. Even nearing middle-age, he had a short-fuse, as his time at AEW proved, and he wasn't afraid to lash out.

But he already had a plan in mind. Everybody, be they dominant or valet, had a breaking point, and Drew was determined to find Punk's. He'd start by starving him, wear him down physically. He'd withhold water from him too, and if he swallowed some of his pride and submitted to his new master, Drew would satiate him. But only by his own hand. Drew would hold the water bottle for Punk to suckle from, spoon feed him one bite at a time, like a babe, until he learnt who held his very life in his hands, who was responsible for his welfare and imprinted on him as his one true dominant.

And when Drew had finally exorcised the demon from the man, he would be left with a flawless angel, the vision of perfection.

'So what do you think?'

The manager's voice snapped Drew from his dark thoughts. He wobbled for the briefest of moments, doubting himself and his cruel intentions...

... then sharply shook them off.

'I'll take it,' he said.

[littlemisspascal]

Bitter Ends Turn Sweet in Time

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Female Reader

Word Count: 7k+

Summary: There’s not a single day in a whole year that isn’t bookmarked by a memory of him. And you, you remember all of them.

Rating: T

Warnings: Pokémon au (but not 100% true to canon, just elements + some characters), time skips in non-linear manner, fluff, angst, bittersweet ending, storms, language, Reader and Frankie are same age + grow up together, high school au ish(?), inspired by 500 Days of Summer + Song of Achilles' 'name one hero who was happy' scene + this quote by photographer David Alan Harvey:

"Don't shoot what it looks like. Shoot what it feels like."

- Reader has no official name and no physical traits described in detail. However, she is mentioned to have hair, a career, wear a dress (no description), and eat sandwiches

Author Note: I've been wanting to write a Pokémon au for a long, long, long time and I've also been wanting to write a non-linear fic for a long, long, long time as well so this is the result of both those wants combining forces *awkwardly throws it into the universe* It is what it is.

-- all moodboard photos found on pinterest

-- shinx, luxio, luxray // pikachu photo references

Special thanks to @beecastle for beta reading and encouraging me through my breakdowns 💜

Day 1,695

Luxray’s a silent wall of black and blue fur for your body to brace against as the sky bleeds a deep shade of orange, and you know he knows. Doesn’t even have to use his x-ray vision to confirm what’s etched into every line of your expression. Anguish—when it’s real and unbearable and deeply-rooted—is impossible to hide. Everyone who looks at you will know. 

Everyone except the one pair of brown eyes that’ll never look your way again.

“I’m such an idiot,” you say quietly, and it’s embarrassing how thick the lump of emotion is lodged in your throat. You wipe at your nose with your sleeve. “So damn stupid.”

Luxray lets out a low growl, chiding in nature, as if to say don’t talk shit about yourself. 

“He was never going to stay,” you continue, ignoring the vibration rattling your bones. “But I got my hopes up anyways. What we’ve accomplished these last few weeks together, I thought there was a chance…a slim one, you know? That maybe–maybe we could actually stick together this time.”

And you don’t realize you’re crying until Luxray’s twisting his head to nuzzle against your temple, encouraging you to bury your face into the thick fur along his chest and shoulders. With your eyes squeezed shut, you can almost block out the all-encompassing numbness emanating from the cavity your heart used to reside in.

“He’s gone…” you choke out through sobs, grabbing fistfuls of Luxray’s inky black mane. “And I think it’s permanent this time.”

Day 1

The first day of classes at Uva Academy is a whirlwind of meeting teachers, racing from one floor to the next against the clock, and making sure you never lose track of Shinx in the chaos of it all, but when the last bell finally rings, you feel no sting of regret about coming here. 

You split a sandwich with Shinx underneath a tree in the school courtyard, brain buzzing with the overload of information absorbed throughout the day. Maybe signing up for a full schedule of classes was a bit excessive, but unlike most of your fellow students who have some semblance of a plan for their futures your next steps are plagued with uncertainty. There are so many paths one can take with their Pokémon—the course of a Trainer, a Coordinator, a Professor, a Ranger, the list goes on and on—you don’t know which direction to take.

When you lock eyes with a boy with brown eyes across the yard, there’s nothing special about the moment. No sparks, no forgetting how to breathe. He’s just a boy with a Pikachu on his shoulder and a dimpled grin on his face.

“I saw you in Mr. Jacq’s class,” he says in lieu of a greeting when he draws closer, purple Academy tie loose and crooked around his neck. Recognition stirs in the back of your mind, a flash of dark brown curls towards the back of the room spotted before taking your seat at the front. 

Actually, now that you think about it…

“Weren’t you in Ms. Dendra’s class too?” you wonder, passing the last bite of sandwich to Shinx, his little body wiggling eagerly. “And Ms. Raifort’s…?”

“Yeah, I, uh, I don’t really know what I want to do yet.” He scuffs at the ground with his shoe, grin turning a bit crooked at the corner, strangely endearing in its awkwardness. “I figure life’s short, you know? Why not try as many things as you can when you have the chance?”

“Right,” you agree, finding yourself smiling back. “Nothing wrong with making memories.”

"I'm Frankie, by the way."

“Nice to meet you Frankie,” you say, shaking his hand. It’s warm in your grip, firm and secure, thumb grazing over your knuckles. “Looks like we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

And so it starts after that—the counting of days. Days when you see him in class, when he smiles at you, when he does homework with you in the library, when he and Pikachu have a battle against you and Shinx–winner buys lunch. It’s a subconscious quirk you keep to yourself. Even after he’s gone, chasing after legends to the far corners of the earth, you still continue counting days.

Days when he crosses your mind. Days when you leave the door unlocked in case he stops by. Days when you swear you catch a whiff of his citrus shampoo on the pillowcase despite the impossibility of it.

There’s not a single day in a whole year that isn’t bookmarked by a memory of him. And you, you remember all of them.

Day 183

“I want my name in one of these books,” he tells you, Ms. Raifort’s assigned reading on the lost explorers of Area Zero spread out in front of him.

You look up from the text, fatalities and disaster and other sharp words with teeth still swimming in your head. “It won’t be easy.”

You’ve only known him six months—long enough to be certain you’ll never meet anyone else like him, but too short to realize the hidden depths of his stubborn ambition.

“No,” he agrees, mouth curling up at the corner, “but it’ll be one hell of a story.”

Day 8

The air is heavy with the sharp, pungent scent of ozone as thunder rumbles overhead. You take in the ominous black clouds, adjusting the hood of your yellow coat to better defend your hair against the pattering raindrops. Doesn’t do much to ward off the chill of the wind though.

Shinx is darting about the meadow in zigzagging lines, wet to the bone and having a blast. Pikachu follows at his heels, electricity sparking from the red circles of her cheeks before fizzling out harmlessly. If there’s any rules to this game they’re playing, you haven’t a clue. Still, their obvious excitement over the weather has you smiling despite the numbness of your toes in soggy shoes.

To your left, Frankie watches the pair of Pokémon nimbly leap over a puddle, studying their graceful movements. His dark hair is flattened against his head, curls beaten into submission, but there’s something in his eyes, a sort of wistfulness that snags your attention like a moth to a flame. 

A bolt of lightning burns a gleaming white strip across the gloomy sky, halting Shinx and Pikachu’s play as they elicit squeaks of awe, but you can’t stop looking at Frankie. He’s grinning now, a wide and ecstatic thing with his head tipped back, rain streaming down his face.

“Amazing, isn’t it? Seeing one of nature’s tantrums,” he says, voice low and wonderstruck. “My mother always said it takes someone extra special to train those who can summon such raw, uncontrollable power on cue.”

You’ve never thought of yourself as someone unusual or remarkable. Looking at him though, soaked and shivering and absolutely beaming, you think if anyone’s extra special in this world it’s him.

Day 1,987

It’s a long time before you can look through photos of him without a wound violently tearing open in your chest. Longer still before you can hear his voice on the phone. He calls more often these days, mostly because you’re knee-deep in another mystery and only a little because he misses you, and that’s okay. You can smile at his jokes and it feels real. You can love him and know better than to be in love with him.

You stay busy. You photograph every inch of the nature park on Florio, even convince Professor Mirror to let you take the NEO-ONE to some of Lental’s other islands for further research. You spend hours clicking through photos on your computer, frowning at blurry ones, printing some out for the Professor to take a closer look at as well as a few for your own personal collection of albums. 

Your coworker isn’t an intimidating figure by any means, but something about watching him study and scrutinize your pictures never fails to make your hands shake and feet shuffle. Even after all these months, practically living inside each other’s pockets at the Laboratory of Ecology and Natural Sciences (or L.E.N.S. as the Professor affectionately calls it), studying the Illumina phenomenon and all its effects, there’s a part of you still terrified it could all come crashing down.

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Professor Mirror tells you, glaring disapprovingly over the frames of his glasses. It’s not the first time you’ve heard that remark and it won’t be the last either. 

“More analyzing the photos and less analyzing me please,” you reply, nodding your head at the small stack in his hands.

He grumbles under his breath, but resumes evaluating the latest shots of your walk along Blushing Beach. There are Wingulls performing loops in the air, an Exeggutor snoozing beneath a palm tree, the splashings of a pair of Corsola playing in the waves. Luxray looking at the contents of a tide pool. A Pikachu eating a fluffruit after you’d scared her by your loud gasp, mistaking her for another of her kind. You don’t mention that tidbit to your coworker though.

That should be the last one, except then Professor Mirror’s letting out a surprised little hum, holding up a photo you never intended anyone else to ever see. Not even the subject. Especially not the subject.

It’s from your sophomore year at Uva Academy. You would call the picture ugly, edges a bit hazy due to your unsteady hands, still learning the tips and tricks of photography, except it’s Frankie. And he’s looking at you behind the lens with a fondness so sweet it makes your teeth hurt, holding a newly evolved Luxio to his chest, with windswept curls your fingers will always long to tame. 

You should’ve thrown it out a long time ago. The man in the photo isn’t the same man who will call you later tonight from half a world away just to ask how your day went and if you’re willing to admit you need his help with the Illumina project. But you’ve always been too sentimental for your own good, holding onto things until there are only scraps left, slipping through the gaps of your fingers. 

At the very least, you shouldn’t have reorganized your albums so close to your work station.

After what feels like the longest stretch of silence of your life, Professor Mirror finally says, carefully neutral as if wary of provoking a negative reaction, “Someone special, I presume?”

“It’s complicated,” is all you offer in response, snatching the picture back and telling yourself the ache behind your ribcage is a side effect of a papercut.

Day 389

Uva Academy teaches you battle strategies, the effects of Berries and how to better understand your Pokémon amongst other vital lessons to prepare students for a career outside the ancient brick walls and dorm rooms. 

It’s Frankie who teaches you how to find beauty in thunderstorms, how to enjoy each day like it’s your last, how to dream a little bit bigger, a little bit bolder—or maybe that’s something you teach each other. 

On the weekends you head into the city center together, trying different eateries and watching fellow students challenge each other on the plaza battle court. Afterwards you’ll walk along the cobblestone streets side by side, sometimes discussing classwork or pointing out items in shop windows, but usually the time is spent in companionable silence. Just sharing the same space.

You buy your first camera acting on pure impulse, drawn to it inexplicably and handing over money to the salesman in a matter of minutes. It fits in the palm of your hand, heavy and solid, buttons and knobs staring back at you, waiting to be pressed and manipulated. For the first ten or so minutes of ownership, you simply hold onto the device, studying its shape, its lens, fingertips running over the bumps and grooves.

“Well?” Frankie prompts, gentle voice breaking the silence, brown eyes flicking between your face and the camera. Pikachu echoes the question with a tiny pika?, sensing the fragility of the moment. 

“I don’t know what to do,” you answer, shoulders curling with self-consciousness. At your feet, Shinx sits on your shoe and rubs his cheek against your leg comfortingly.

“Well,” he hums, a teasing smile growing on his lips as he presses a button. “Maybe start with turning it on first.”

“Shut up.” You swat at him, but there’s no real heat. “I meant, I don’t know what to take a photo of.”

“It doesn’t matter what the sight is,” Frankie tells you, grabbing hold of your hands and raising them up until the camera’s in front of your face. He steps back and you peek at him through the viewfinder, watching as he spreads his arms out wide with Pikachu still happily perched on his shoulder. “What’s important is how it makes you feel.”

You take a breath, taking a moment to hold the shutter button until it focuses, and then take the photo. No count down, no say cheese!—you simply heed his advice, focusing on how it makes you feel.

The preview screen asks if you’d like to keep the picture or delete it. Your thumb hovers over the buttons.

Focused on the way Frankie’s hair has a golden aura in the light, how Pikachu’s nose scrunches when she’s grinning, you nearly jump out of your skin when he’s suddenly at your side again, wondering, “What do I make you feel, shutterbug?”

Like I’m falling and flying at the same time, you think, quick and startling. A bolt of lightning amongst storm clouds.

You press save.

“Like spending a hundred bucks wasn’t a total mistake.”

Day 448

You take a seat in the cafeteria across from Yovanna and her Sylveon. You’re lucky she shares the same lunch hour as you. Even more lucky she likes you enough to also share her space. Her knack for securing a table each day despite the scrambling rush of hungry students is a gift from the gods. Or maybe it’s a perk of being the president of the Academy’s student council.

“You haven’t stopped smiling for days.” She points with her fork at your grin, a giddy, bubbly thing not even Ms. Tyme’s pop quiz last period could stifle. “Spill it. Who’re you crushing on? Is he a student here? You got a picture?”

“Not with me.” It’s a lie, ever since you bought your camera it’s been glued to your person and there’s always at least one picture of him stored within the device’s gallery of Luxio shots and library aesthetic and other things that make you happy. “He is a student here though.”

Yovanna drops her fork onto her plate, jostling the pieces of fruit waiting to be eaten. Sylveon catches a flying strawberry midair by jumping in her seat and landing neatly on four paws like it’s a regular trick to perform. “Shut up. It’s him, isn’t it?”

You feed Luxio a pickle off your sandwich, neither confirming nor denying.

But your grin does get a little bit impossibly wider.

“Aw man, I owe Santi twenty bucks now.”

Your eyes narrow shrewdly. “Did you seriously make a bet?”

“You two are joined at the hip, of course I did.” Yovanna leans back in her chair, arms behind her head, not a single hint of shame for her actions. “Santi said you’d realize you had feelings for him before winter break. I thought it’d take you until the end of the semester ‘cause you’ve got the self-awareness of a piece of concrete most days.”

“Rude.” She dodges the crumpled napkin you toss at her with a laugh.

“Hey, this is a good development. Now you just gotta keep the momentum going and tell him how you feel. You’re perfect for each other.”

Tucking back into her meal, she misses the brief slip in your smile.

“Yeah.”

Day 8

Ms. Dendra is the only teacher without a classroom, preferring to use the battlefield in the middle of the courtyard for her lessons rather than a whiteboard. She weaves along the line of students with her Medicham, offering suggestions and correcting forms to make the most out of their Pokémons’ moves. You keep one eye on her drawing steadily closer and one on Shinx pawing at the ground, charging up electricity in his forelegs. He still hasn’t mastered thunder shock yet, maybe Ms. Dendra can–

“Storm’s coming tonight,” a voice drawls behind you, a curious blend of casual and enthusiastic.

You turn around, finding Frankie standing there looking up at the sky. The dark gray clouds do seem indicative of bad weather, now that he’s mentioned it. Rain is definitely on its way. 

And then he asks, a little sudden, “You ever seen one up close?”

A strange question. Still, you think about it, searching your childhood. All you remember are memories of cowering under the blankets in your bed and playing in puddles the next morning when the monstrous rumbling and harsh flashes had long passed. You’ve seen rain up close, felt the drops on your skin, inhaled the scent of petrichor deep into your lungs. But storms? 

“No,” you shake your head, shivering as the temperature seems to drop. “Never.”

He hums, a bland note that could mean anything. At your feet, Shinx and Pikachu sit and stare at each other, little sparks of blue and yellow static crackling in the air between them like morse code. 

“No wonder you’re having trouble with your partner. Can’t teach him about electricity when you’ve never seen it in action.”

“That’s not how training works,” you retort defensively. “Also storms aren’t exactly harmless, in case you forgot. They’re loud and dangerous and—”

“Beautiful,” Frankie cuts in with such firm conviction you reel back in surprise. “Absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful.” A pause follows, and you hate the smirk that grows on his face, how it taunts you, how it makes his eyes glitter with mischief. “Or maybe not. I could be lying. Only one way to find out for sure.” 

A raindrop lands on your cheek. Then another on your arm. And another on your nose. It’s pouring now. Students are complaining about their lesson being interrupted and Ms. Dendra’s shouting for everyone to head back inside. Through it all your eyes remain locked in an intense staring match, neither one willing to surrender.

“Fine,” you reply with a sharp jerk of your chin. “Show me.”

Day 1,448

Your internship with Professor Oak is—good. It’s the start of a brand new chapter in your life, except the last chapter ended on a terrible note and the upcoming pages are terrifyingly blank if you fail to impress your new boss, so. Yeah.

You get along with the Professor’s other intern, a local boy named Will. He teaches you how to drive the ZERO-ONE around the sanctuary. You spend hours out on the trails, memorizing everything about the wild Pokémon who call the island home. You enjoy the assignments Professor Oak gives you, staying busy, filling up albums with photos and journals with research notes. 

But when it’s quiet, when you’re staring up at the ceiling waiting for sleep to come…you’ve never felt more lonely in your life. Even with Luxray within reach, loyal and constant, there’s a persistent ache you can’t shake. A loose thread dangling in your mind, tormenting you, and you know if you were to tug on it exactly where it would lead.

Everything leads back to him.

Frankie hasn’t tried to call you. Hasn’t had any contact with you since graduation. Not even a postcard from whatever corner of the world he’s trying to accomplish his dreams. 

You haven’t tried to call him either. And yes, it’s true communication is a two-way street, but he’s the one who left and took your heart with him. Why should you give him more of yourself? You hate yourself for even contemplating picking up the phone.

You hate yourself even more for wondering what your relationship would’ve been like if you’d gone with him. If it’d hurt less to just have stayed friends. If you’d been better off never knowing him at all. If, if, if…

Day 485

The problem is, you think your feelings for Frankie are just a little bit stronger than a crush. You’re pretty sure you’re in love with him. Or at least halfway there. 

As much as you hate to admit it, Yovanna wasn’t wrong saying you have the self-awareness of a piece of cement. You don’t know for certain if the fluttery Butterfree sensation in your stomach or galloping heartbeat whenever Frankie smiles at you is love. But you are certain he’s gotten under your skin, triggering as many irritations as he is encouraging new ways of growth. You’re a better person, you think, simply by knowing him.

You also think it’s actually kind of scary to imagine something so strong and life-transforming could be anything else but love. Regardless, you hope it stays with you forever. This precious, nameless thing.

It won’t be until many days later—until you know what it’s like to kiss him, and hold his face between your palms, the heat of his breath tingling against your skin; until he’s fluent in myths and legends and fables, swearing he’ll be the one to make them truths and facts and verities; until you can’t picture a future without him in it, not a happy one, at least—you’ll realize you do love him. And he loves you, too, as it turns out.

But nothing lasts forever. Someone’s always got to be the first to let go. 

Day 1,375

You receive an offer for an internship with Professor Oak in Pallet Town to help him complete his Pokémon Report by taking photos on a nearby island sanctuary. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime to work with such an esteemed researcher, but thinking about graduation creeping up, about leaving behind this realm of familiarity now that you’ve learned everything Uva Academy has to teach, it’s—moving forward is harder than you anticipate.

It doesn’t help that Frankie's becoming more and more restless, unable to stand still as if it physically pains him to do so. No matter how many walks around the city, how many storms chased after, he’s always looking out towards the horizon, aura so thick with discontentment it’s as if he’s physically cloaked in it. 

Lately the only moments he seems to settle within his own skin are when he’s talking with Ms. Raifort, discussing ancient prophecies and ruins scattered around the globe. You don’t understand it, his passionate fascination–no, obsession with mythology. Why not let sleeping dogs lie? 

Frankie won’t talk to you about the future, evading the topic like a cunning Nickit. Still you cling to his hand, to hope, to the belief love conquers all, until the morning of graduation he comes to your dorm room and stares over your shoulder rather than meet your gaze. Even Pikachu hides her face in his curls, ears lowered despondently.

You let him in, the beginnings of dread stirring in your stomach, sensing whatever he’s got to say will have irreparable consequences.

“Did you have breakfast yet?” You gesture towards the kitchen, an unspoken can this wait? laced within the question.

“Not feeling very hungry today,” he answers, glancing about the room aimlessly. No, it can’t.

“That’s a first.” You take a seat on the sofa next to Luxray, grounding yourself by stroking a hand along his back. “You gonna tell me what’s on your mind or are you gonna make me guess?”

At that, Frankie finally turns to you, and his torn expression fractures something delicate inside of you, coldness flooding your lungs.

“I’ve been thinking. About us.”

“What about us?”

“I love you.” There’s no sweetness to the words. No tenderness. They are words of blood, of pain, scraping against his throat on their way out. “I’ve loved you from day one and I’ll love you ten thousand more. But what I want, what you want—it’s not the same thing. And it’s only going to hurt the longer we keep pretending otherwise.”

“Stop, please don’t—” your voice cracks, the cold gripping your heart now. Please don’t say it. Please don’t do this. “We’re—we’re good together. You know we are.”

“We were,” he amends, voice so unbearably gentle it’s a jagged blade against your soul. “We were so good. But we’re not ready for what comes next. We’ve become thunder and lightning, one ahead of the other. Our timing is off, shutterbug.”

Day 765

It’s drizzling a little when you return to campus. You shiver in your wet dress, grimacing as you accidentally step in a puddle, thoroughly soaking your flats and bare feet. Hopefully you won’t slip on the stairs and break your neck. That’d be the cherry on top of this disappointing evening.

You just want to shower, put on your comfiest pajamas, and fall asleep as fast as possible. 

Except when you reach your floor there’s a figure curled up on the floor outside your door, fast asleep with a snoring Pikachu curled on his chest.

“Hey, sleeping beauty.” You nudge at Frankie’s knee with your wet shoe, raising an eyebrow at him as he jerks awake, blinking rapidly. “What’re you doing here?”

“Oh, you’re back,” he says through a yawn, stretching his arms over his head. Pikachu grunts, displeased at the movement and sounds, and stubbornly curls into a tighter ball, forcing him to cradle her in the nook of his arm as he stands up. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I just–I wanted to make sure you got back from your date okay. How did it go?”

Your date, Tom, is in Mr. Hassel’s art class with you. He invited you to see a new photography exhibit at the city’s museum. He was nice, if a little overzealous, and seeing lovely displays of art  seemed like a better way to spend the evening instead of once again hopelessly pining over your best friend. So, you’d said yes, changed into a nice dress, and swore off any and all yearning.

Except that’s exactly what you ended up doing anyways. 

Every time a photo left you breathless, you’d instinctively turn to look for brown eyes that weren’t there. Every joke Tom made you’d compare it to one of Frankie’s. Throughout the entire evening, you couldn’t stop your thoughts drifting back towards the Academy, wondering what he was doing.

You weren’t surprised Tom cut the date short, correctly sensing your heart just wasn’t into it. Still stung a bit though watching him leave you behind to join up with some other classmates hanging out in the plaza.

“Poorly,” you answer with a slight grimace.

“Oh.” Frankie blinks, looking at a loss for additional words. He’s wearing the hoodie he got from his trip to Montenevera over the holiday break and sweatpants, warm and rumpled and cozy, a complete contrast to your entire wardrobe. “Did he–did he hurt you? Because if he did anything inappropriate, I swear–”

“What? No, no, nothing like that happened.” You shake your head, ignoring the flutter of your heartbeat, touched at his protectiveness. He’s still staring at you, and you know he’s not going to let this slide under the rug. “Relax, tough guy. Tom was fine. I was the problem.”

“Tauros shit,” he immediately rejects the notion. “You could never be a problem.”

The hallway feels too hot all of the sudden despite the icy raindrops still clinging to your skin. “That’s sweet,” you say, trying to flash a grin except the muscles in your face refuse to cooperate. It feels stiff. Forced. “You say that to all the girls?”

His mouth tugs upwards into a smile, dimpled and boyish. “Once or twice,” he says, “but I only mean it with you.”

It’s dangerous and stupid to get your hopes up, but there’s something about the quietness, something about his brown eyes and his nearness, that makes you take a leap of faith. Makes you think screw it and reach for his free hand, lacing your fingers together.

“I was the problem,” you tell him softly, watching his expression sober, “because I kept looking for you.”

Silence follows, interrupted by a quiet snore from Pikachu. 

Then, just as softly, Frankie says for a second time, “Oh.”

You swallow, feeling like you can’t breathe. “Yeah.”

“Silly girl, you didn’t need to look.” He squeezes your hand, leans in just enough to bump his nose against yours. “I’ve always been here.”

Day 1,375

Later, you won’t remember the particulars of how the rest of the conversation played out. There are words, so many words. Angry and inconsolable, spat out through clenched teeth and pleaded with numb lips. Tears, too. So many damn tears it’s a wonder you don’t drown yourself.

You will remember how he looks at you though. Brown eyes deep and golden, reflecting the morning light streaming through the window. He’s beautiful, and you think that’s the final straw of it all, the definitive proof that even as he’s ripping out your heart you will never feel anything less for him than love. 

No passage of time or miles of distance will ever change that. You know this like you know the sun will rise tomorrow, and the next day, and the one after that. 

Still, this certainty doesn’t stitch up the gaping, bleeding hole in your sternum.

No, that self-healing won’t begin until many, many days later.

Day 610 

In another life, if you hadn’t discovered your love of photography, you think you would have been a great astronomer. You know each of the constellations’ names, the best times during the year to spot them, even the tales assigned to them.

Tonight, the night sky is full of stars in every direction you look, not even the distant city lights strong enough to overpower their shine. You lie on your back in the soft meadow grass, hands resting on your stomach, the scent of wildflowers as thick in the air as the fireflies Luxio and Pikachu chase after. To your left, he mimics your pose, except he’s got an arm pillowed under his head, silent except for his breathing.

“There’s Kingler, cursed to hold up his heavy claw for eternity,” you say eventually, raising a hand to trace the starry outline with your fingertip. “Cubone’s next to him, forever mourning his mother.”

He remains silent. You turn your head to look at him, discovering he is deeply absorbed in his thoughts. Physically, you could easily reach out for his hand, but the blankness in his eyes suggests internally he’s half a world away. Somewhere you can’t follow. An irrational spark of jealousy burns hot in your veins, upset your presence isn’t enough of an anchor to keep him locked in the present moment.

You emit a quiet sigh, mentally rolling your eyes at your own childishness, and start to turn back to the sky when his voice catches you off guard, asking, “You ever notice they’re all tragedies?”

“Huh?”

“The myths behind the constellations.” He looks at you then, eyes dim with an emotion you can’t recognize. “Can you name one with a happy ending?”

You think about Pinsir, exiled due to his uncontrollable rage; Koffing, releasing toxic gases as he dies; Dugtrio, punished by an angry Groudon for gouging too many holes in the earth. The list grows longer, the tales grow sadder.

“No,” you say at last. “I guess not.”

He shrugs a shoulder, like it’s nothing, like his next words aren’t going to hurt something fierce. “That’s because happy endings are the biggest myth of all.”

Day 1,375

He kisses you. It is perfect and excruciating all at once. His hand is cupping your cheek, and his touch is so tender and intimately familiar you can’t stop yourself from indulging and it’s cruel of him to leave you like this. Shattered and wanting. Falling and flying.

But when Frankie’s right, he’s right.

This split in your paths has been a long time coming. You’d just refused to read the writing on the wall, content to keep counting the days, pretending the number would stretch on into infinity.

Infinity is just another word for forever though.

And there’s truth in that old saying: when you love someone—

“I love you,” he says again at the door. His eyes drift over your face, as if memorizing every detail. “And I’m proud of you. Remember that.” There’s the briefest of glimpses of tears in his eyes before he’s wrapping you in a hug, so tight your ribs painfully protest. You savor every second of it. “This isn’t the last of us. We’ll meet again, I swear it. One day, shutterbug.”

—you let them go.

Day 1,669

You’ve been dreading his arrival, dreading how he might look at you. What might be different. What, if anything, might be the same. 

All communication thus far has been directly with Professor Oak. You haven’t heard a single peep even though your number’s stayed the same. Even though you know he knows you’re here. 

Luxray stays close as the hour draws closer, trying to soothe your nervous energy. You stroke his mane, eyes flicking between your computer, the window, and then back again. The cursor blinks on the screen, waiting for you to finish adding the last details to the report you’ve been developing on the Pokémon signs you and Will discovered. Bizarre occurrences where the environment manifests the likeness of specific Pokémon—always the same ones in the same places. But why they existed and what they meant remained unsolved mysteries robbing you of sleep.

It had been the Professor's idea to invite another set of eyes to examine the clues after months of no solid progress. For every one step made forward it felt like the universe would shove you five steps backwards, the hidden connection remaining just out of your reach.

If you had known Professor Oak and Ms. Raifort were old friends, that she would’ve recommended her favorite pupil…well, you’re not sure if anything would’ve really changed. What fate wants, fate gets one way or another.

Frankie arrives at eventide, bringing the warmth of the fading sun into the lab with him. He looks…unchanged. Maybe a little broader, thicker with muscle from his journeys. But still familiar in all the ways that matter. You wonder if the same can be said for yourself. 

He’s looking at you, and it’s—it’s less painful than you expected. No tight band wrapped around your middle, no spontaneous bursting of tears. He’s just a man with a Pikachu on his shoulder and a dimpled grin on his face.

“Hey shutterbug,” he says, and it feels abruptly like slow motion, like you’re watching through someone else’s eyes as he comes closer, closer, closer and pulls you into a tight embrace. His arms are just as strong as you remember them, memories of graduation screaming in the back of your mind and you’re in your dorm room again watching him walk out of your life with your heart in tow.

You want to…

(kiss him, hit him, hold him, scream at him)

You want too many things.

“Hey,” you echo lamely as he pulls back. If Frankie hears the faintest of quivers in your voice, he thankfully doesn’t show a sign of it. You shoot a small grin at Pikachu, mouth stretching wider when she returns it with a cheerful pika pi, waving her paw. “Ready to help solve a mystery?”

“I always wanted to make history.” He’s smirking that same damn smirk, an intense pang of nostalgia striking you. Your fingers twitch, wishing you had your camera. “But I think it’s better this way, yeah?”

“What way?”

Distantly, you’re aware of Professor Oak and Will watching the conversation ping-ponging back and forth, both smart enough to pick up on the unspoken something between you and Frankie. 

“Making history together,” he says, as if it’s obvious. “We make a good team, you and I.”

The words bounce around inside your head for a moment. A good team. Is that all we are? is what you want to ask, but the answer’s a double-edged sword shoved between your ribs no matter how he phrases it. 

So you swallow the question down and bury it. 

“C’mon,” you gesture towards your computer, “I’ll show you what we’ve got so far.”

Day 128

Winter sweeps in, all frigid winds and frosted windows. Together you stay at the Academy during the holiday break. It’s days of no homework, snowball fights, and parka coats. Nights spent by the fireplace, hot chocolates topped with whipped cream, wishing you could bottle these memories in a jar and keep them on a shelf.

If Frankie knew about it, he would say Jirachi heard your wish, but it’s your opinion that fate’s just got a funny sense of humor. Either way, a few years down the line you’ll have the collection of memories you desired, almost all of them starring him. They won’t be kept in fragile jars, but in captured photographs unaffected by the withering flow of time. Little glimpses of a happy life, and how much you've lost.

Day 2,000 

You kiss Frankie on the front deck of the L.E.N.S. the night before he’s scheduled to leave. It’s stupid and impulsive, but he’s just right there in front of you, bathed in starlight and high off the elation that comes with solving another Pokémon mystery, further securing his place amongst the pages of historic exploration, a legend in his own lifetime, and there’s no thoughts in your head so—you kiss him. 

It isn’t your first kiss, but it feels like something new. He’s got stubble now, you’re wearing a lab coat—little details of proof you’re far from the kids you used to be. He smells the same though, like coffee and evergreens and fresh rain. The quiet, awed exhale of your name, like you’re something wonderful, something mythical come true, is the same too. 

And for the briefest of moments, you can almost imagine you’re together again.

But in the end it’s just a kiss, not a time machine. 

Day 1,762

“For someone with a new career, you don’t look very excited,” Will says, knocking his shoulder against yours good-naturedly. You try to summon up a smile, but it isn’t fooling anyone.

Professor Oak’s treating you both to a fancy dinner at a restaurant you can’t pronounce the name of, celebrating the news of your new job as an official field research photographer working alongside Professor Mirror in Florio. It’s an amazing step forward, resulting from the success of the Rainbow Cloud discovery with Frankie, certain to give your name another added boost of recognition in the photography community. 

“I am,” you say, remembering how you’d nearly passed out when you received the offer. Another attempt at a grin yields better results. “It’s gonna be great.”

Will tilts his head, a knowing look in his eyes. “You’re thinking about him. Again.”

“Not intentionally.” Your lips curl into a rueful grimace, fingers twisting together in your lap. “He just…never leaves my thoughts.”

Frankie told you before he left he didn’t have a home, not anymore, too much of a restless spirit to stay in one place. You wonder if his answer would be different, if he knew it’s been 1,762 days and every one of them he’s spent occupying your head.

“Even when he’s gone and left you behind?” From anyone else, the question would’ve been harsh, but your friend’s eyes are kind, full of empathy. 

There’s a second where you contemplate lying, but you can’t. Not to him, and not to yourself.

“Especially then.”

Day 2,000

“Sorry.” It comes out of your mouth stilted—not because you don’t mean it, but because your heart’s beating like a thunderstorm. A wildness you haven’t felt in years.

“I’ve never needed an apology from you.” Frankie looks at you softly, the brown of his eyes getting lost in the dark. “Two thousand. Can you believe it? Seems like just yesterday I watched you walk into class.”

You forget sometimes that he’s the sentimental type too when it comes to those he cares about. It’s why he doesn’t give Pikachu a Thunderstone, and why he only knows how to play one song on a guitar, his mother’s favorite. How sweet it is, to learn he must care about you to keep count, maybe even love you a little bit still.

“Frankie,” you start, dropping your forehead onto his shoulder. His nearness is a comfort as much as it is a distraction, but this conversation is long overdue by hundreds of days. “What are we?”

“You tell me.” A hand comes to rest on your waist, a searing brand through the fabric of your clothes. “What do you want us to be?”

You think about the question for a long moment, wondering what words pack enough meaning to give the answer it deserves.

What you want is another storm to chase, another constellation to trace. What you want is for your hands to brush during walks, never having to hear his voice on the end of a phone again because he’s right there by your side. What you want is everything that once was to align in perfect harmony with the immediate now.

“I want us to be together.”

“We are.”

“No, we’re not,” you murmur, staring down at the mud stains on his boots. 

“Listen, shutterbug,” his hands move to your head, one tilting up your chin and the other gently palming your neck, forcing you to meet his gaze, “a lot can happen in two thousand days–”

“I know, I know.”

His fingers spasm, like he’s resisting the urge to tug on your hair, eyes sharpening at the interruption. “A lot can happen in two thousand days,” he repeats, and you hear it this time, the heavy weight in his tone. Rarely is he this serious. “We’ve changed, we’ve grown, we’ve been on opposite ends of the earth from each other. But tonight, of all places, I’m here and you’re here.”

And maybe it really is that simple. People say lightning doesn’t strike the same place twice, but twice now you’ve watched him go and twice he’s been brought back to you. 

You reach up, wrapping your hands around his wrists, holding him there. “Do you think we’ll ever be what we were?”

“No.” He steps impossibly closer, lips brushing against your forehead. “I think one day we’ll be better.”

Better, you mouth the word. It feels like a promise, like a turning point. 

“Yeah, one day,” you agree, heartbeat steadying, matching the rhythm of his beneath your fingertips. “It’ll be worth the wait.”

[rowrowronnie]

CRINGE ALERT!!! i feel the need to share songs i associate w/some of my fav dano characters sooo:

louis ives:

louis to me, is definitely a french enjoyer!! she loves all things french- the music, the movies, the art. i wanna believe she once had a dream of moving to france and living in montmarte, surrounding herself with a revolving platter of different creatives… basically living the dream of previous 19th century artists lol

i also think of her whenever i hear any sappy 60-80s love songs so erm.. (i am enamoured with her...)

• The Girl - Theme by Trevor Duncan

• Can’t Take My Eyes Off You by Frankie Valli

• The Lady In Red by Chris de Burgh

• Chanson de Delphine by Anne Germain

• C’est pas prudent by Alice Dona

edward nashton:

eddie’s stuff varies between incomprehensible noise, to classical music, to any song about obsession and love, etcetera.

i almost put she by tyler the creator on here but i held myself back because that song’s more incel type vibes, and i don't think eddie's an incel; but the stalker/voyeuristic stuff tyler goes into is sooooooo him, like actually!!!

anyways.. felt the need to mention that because it felt wrong not to, esp with a song so eddie coded

• Eternal Flame by The Bangles

• E[N]IGMA by Yann Robin and João Barradas (this is literally just discordant accordion sounds for 14 minutes and it literally works so well w/him, i love it)

• String Quartet No. 5 in F Minor, Op. 9 by Antonín Dvořák

• Bells (Excerpt) by Albert Ayler Quintet (this feels like his mind to me, i love avant garde jazz!!!)

• While I’m Still Here by Nine Inch Nails

alex jones/barry milland:

barry my love... a lot of the songs i think he'd like and also associate with him, are ones with beautifully lonely guitar stuff and lyrics about nature, mental health- basically anything with a melancholic sort of vibe.

i like to think he listens to music when he's camping in his rv, a window rolled down so the cool yet sticky humidity makes the car smell less stale.. the slight rustle of leaves, the shine of the moon in the rear window... y.. yeah.g..

��� Parking Lot by Pavlov’s Pasta Dogs (honestly a lot of songs by ppd feel very barry coded)

• Help Is Round the Corner by Coldplay

• 2001 by Poor You

• Justice of the Hood by Dead Sullivan

• Moon, I Already Know by Mount Eerie

[swooning-skulls]

--- character list

blue - currently interested | red - not taking requests | green - no romance | pink - yandere allowed

i will occasionally write characters not on this list, that doesn't mean they will be requestable.

{...live action...}

BULLET TRAIN: Lemon, Tangerine, The Father, The Wolf

COMMUNITY: Jeff Winger, Britta Perry, Annie Edison, Abed Nadir, Troy Barnes, Shirley Bennett, Ben Chang, Dean Craig Pelton

WHAT WE DO IN THE SHADOWS: ---coming soon

YOU: Joe Goldberg, Peach Salinger, Guinevere Beck, Candace Stone, Love Quinn, Forty Quinn, Delilah Alves

YELLOWJACKETS: ---coming soon

FALLOUT: Lucy MacLean, Norman MacLean, Chet, Maximus, Thaddeus, Cooper Howard, Lee Moldaver, Bud Askins, Henry "Hank" McLean, Betty Pearson

{...animation...}

A.N.) depending on the continuity, i may decline romantic requests for scooby-doo characters since they're not adults in all continuities.

SCOOBY-DOO (all except hbo velma): Norville "Shaggy" Rogers, Scoobert "Scooby-Doo" Doobert, Fred Jones, Velma Dinkley, Daphne Blake, Thorn, Luna, Dusk, Vincent van Ghoul

G1 MONSTER HIGH: Frankie Stein, Clawdeen Wolf, Draculaura, Lagoona Blue, Cleo de Nile, Ghoulia Yelps, Deuce Gorgon, Clawd Wolf, Toralei Stripe, Scarah Screams, Abbey Bominable, Spectra Vondergeist, Operetta, Venus McFlytrap, C.A. Cupid, Nefera de Nile, Mr. D'eath, G. Reaper, Ms. Kindergrubber, Mr. Rotter, Mr. Where

G3 MONSTER HIGH: ---coming soon

SONIC BOOM: ---coming soon

LOVE, DEATH & ROBOTS: ---coming soon

{...video games...}

MARIO FRANCHISE: Mario, Luigi, Pauline, Princess Peach, Princess Daisy, Princess Rosalina, Yoshi, Bridette, Bowser, King Boo, Wario, Waluigi, Vivian, Goombella, Madame Flurrie, Lady Bow

CLASSIC SONIC FRANCHISE: ---coming soon

MODERN SONIC FRANCHISE: ---coming soon

FALLOUT NEW VEGAS: Courier 6, Arcade Gannon, Craig Boone, Lily Bowen, Raul Tejada, Sharon Cassidy, Veronica Santangelo, ED-E, Rex, Christine Royce, Dean Domino, Joshua Graham, Benny 'Gecko', Legate Lanius, Robert House, Ulysses (MORE COMING SOON)

FALLOUT 3: The Lone Wanderer, Butch Deloria, Charon, Clover, Cross, Dogmeat, Fawkes, Jericho, RL-3 (MORE COMING SOON)

FALLOUT 4: Nate, Nora, Cait, Codsworth, Curie, Danse, Deacon, Dogmeat, John Handcock, Nick Valentine, Piper Wright, Preston Garvey, Ada, Old Longfellow, Porter Gage, Bobbi No-Nose, Desdemona, Erikson, Ham, Irma, Kent Connolly, KL-E-0, Pickman, Red Tourette, Swan, Tinker Tom, Travis Miles, Vault-Tec Rep, Whitechapel Charlie (MORE COMING SOON)

COD: COLD WAR: Bell, Russell Adler, Lawrence Sims, Frank Woods, Alex Mason, Dimitri Belikov, Perseus, Vikhor "Stich" Kuzmin

RAINBOW SIX SIEGE: ---coming soon

APEX LEGENDS: ---coming soon

OVERWATCH: Soldier 76, Reinhardt, Sojourn, Mercy, Winston, Tracer, Genji, Mei, Brigitte, Echo, Lucio, Pharah, Zarya, D.Va, Baptiste, Bastion, Doomfist, Moria, Reaper, Widowmaker, Sombra, Sigma, Ramattra, Junker Queen, Roadhog, Junkrat, Wrecking Ball, Hanzo, Ashe, B.O.B., Symmetra, Lifeweaver, Zenyatta, Orisa, Illari , Venture

{...books...}

---NA: