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honey-minded-hivemind · 1 year ago

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Now, my last post mentioned a few characters I like, or at least think would make for interesting platonic yanderes. Of course, to set the mood, some songs might help bring these ideas to life for everyone. There are many choices when it comes to unsettling or yandere-ish songs, and some match the platonic yanderes, while some fit more with the reader. And I think it would be good to set up a small playlist here, with mentions of what songs fit some of the characters I mentioned. It wouldn't hurt, I think. So, here we go:

• Somebody's Watching Me by Rockwell: this songs fit our protagonist, the bby, the darling, our reader! And it sets up how they feel, the proper paranoia and feeling of being watched. Which isn't unfounded, considering what we all are here for.

• One Way Or Another by Blondie: the more upbeat stalker song. This song, for the characters I've already mentioned, would fit Mystique. This woman is a shapeshifter who can spy on anyone and trick many people. If she were obsessed over someone, she is likely to be the stalking type. She will have you, one way or another.

• Every Breath You Take by The Police (or the cover by Courbe): the creepier sounding stalker song. If we go by The Police one, this seems to fit moreso with the likes of Scott Summers or Jean Grey. If we go with the Courbe cover, you have Wolverine and/or Sabretooth. Yep. This song has some of the more... powerful platonic yans involved. They will watch every step of yours, no matter what.

• Never Ever Getting Rid Of Me by Kimiko Glenn, Christopher Fitzgerald, and the ensemble cast of the musical Waitress : the friendliest song here. This song is loving, and waaay more gentle than the others. I imagine this to embody Remy LeBeau and/or Kurt Wagner. And the reader is along for the ride, unable to get rid of them.

• High Enough by K.Flay: yep, this one is for the addicted sort. It would go well with Laura Kinney, Daken, or Wolverine. Yes. That is right. The Snikt Family. And also possibly Sabretooth. Let's face it, these four, if they found someone who could make them not feel the pain, the anger, the rage and despair and bloodlust for even a moment, they aren't letting that person out of their sights. No way. No how. They may use the reader as a coping mechanism, wanting them in favor of drugs, drinks, or violence. They'd already be high enough from you.

• Blank Space by Taylor Swift: the crazy girl sort of song. This one could describe Jean Grey or Rogue, considering they both are powerhouses and can be a nightmare for anyone who screws over them or their loved ones. But who wouldn't be drawn in by Rogue's Southern charm or Jean's caring attitude? They'd be sweet with a darling, but if the darling tried to leave, or were hurt, oof. They really are nightmares dressed as daydreams. If you really wanted, you could even add Daken or Remy with this song.

• Animal by Neon Trees (and/or Courbe's cover): you have an upbeat and terrifying dilemma here. For the Neon Trees version, you have Remy, Rogue, Kurt, Laura Kinney, and/or Mystique pleading with their bby to accept their love, begging them not to deny them. The sweeter version of this song. And then you have Courbe's cover, and we wander back into terrifying. For this side, you'd have the likes of Jean Grey, Scott Summers, Wolverine, Daken, Cable, and/or Sabretooth. They are demanding their bby's love, declaring they won't be stopped, then trying to cajole them into accepting it. No matter which version you go with (or if you like both, like I do) none of these yanderes will be denied. Not by you. Not by anyone or anything.

• E.T. by Katy Perry: the song where you're infatuated with someone so different, so unique, you can't help but want to risk it all just to know them. This song can fit any of the platonic yanderes. Just stick with the Katy Perry only version. This songs describes how the platonic yandere/s is so obsessed, so smitten with their bby. Someone who is like an angel. Someone who makes them feel like a devil. Someone unnatural. Unexpected. The bby here is probably a kind person, or someone who saw something good in them, something different than what others see. And how could they not fall for their bby, the person who sees them as they are, and accepts it, regardless, or because of it? There darling truly is supernatural, an extraterrestrial among the populace.

• Daylight by David Kushner: sad, beautiful, and pleading. It goes for the platonic yanderes, as well as the reader. It is a song acknowledging that what they are doing might be wrong. That it isn't healthy. That they are imperfect, and they have a love/hate relationship over what is happening. Having to hide their darkness, lest it be seen and they in turn be judged or even hated for it.

• Stalker's Tango by Autoheart: when a platonic yandere tries to sell themselves as the one and only (or more, if they have a partner, or are a family/in it together) for their darling. Demanding love, to the point of it being near impossible to deal with. Until you reach the end, and they explain it's not about them; it's about you. There may never be another them, but there will never EVER be another you. Those who would match with this song include Rogue, Remy, and Kurt.

• The Red Means I Love You by Madds Buckley: a love song for the lovesick, ax-crazy platonic yans. It starts out with statements, discussing what others say about the yandere, then them saying their point of view, how the blood they shed, whether it be a victim or their bby's, shows how much they, the yan, loves them. And the yandere is really into bloodshed, from the looks of it. With that in mind, the obvious choices for this song are Daken and Sabretooth. In their eyes, none of what they are doing is wrong. They are simply protecting and establishing their love for their dear darling. Red is passionate. Fiery. Protective. Dominant. The red means they love them, obviously.

• I Know I'm A Wolf (cover) by Courbe: trying to convince the weaker or innocent person to give you a chance, despite what you have done, and who or what you are. This song can involve any of the platonic yans, but it might fit better with characters such as Wolverine, Sabretooth, Laura, and Daken. You could even stretch it a bit to fit Cable, Mystique, Jean, or Scott. An apology, and a plea, for their bby to not be afraid.

• Unforgettable by Nat King Cole (and Natalie Cole!): a sweet, oldie but a goldie serenade of how they believe you are unforgettable, no matter what. They wholeheartedly think you are incredible, just as you are. And they wonder how someone like you could see them (if only in the past) as unforgettable, too. A love song from all the platonic yanderes.

And that is a playlist for any of the platonic yanderes I've mentioned in my previous post (as well as any other platonic yandere Marvel character you have in mind!) And I know I only did X-Men characters so far, but these songs also fit any Marvel hero or villain group, or individual characters! Enjoy the honeycomb thought! (I spent about two to three hours putting this together. And if anyone wants to put these all together and make it into an actual playlist on YouTube, Spotify, or any other app, feel free to! Just please mention which platonic yandere/s it is for, and keep it platonic if you want to use it. Here, we only have platonic relationships between yanderes and the bby, a.k.a. the reader, you!).

#honeycomb thoughts #platonic yandere marvel #yandere x-men

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inhobe · 9 months ago

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inho auditions (0:18-1:35) for next gen on a dare

it was difficult to pinpoint exactly how he had ended up here in line to check in at the auditions for the second season of next generation.

unbeknownst to him, his friends had decided it would be a fun idea to send in a photo of him and an initial form, explaining something about a two part audition process. then he got an unexpected email saying he'd passed. when he told his friends about it, they had laughed and explained what they'd done.

apparently they also knew inho would roll his eyes and laugh along before claiming he wasn't going to show up.

until suddenly he was dared to, and there was money on the line if he made it through the auditions. he couldn't pass it up.

now he was surrounded by many individuals, most of whom seemed significantly younger than he did, with a number on his chest, and watching a video play on screen with people he didn't know explaining how their audition process would work. he knew about the 60 second audition, it was in the email, the whole reason he had an electric guitar on his back and a portable amplifier in his bag. the questions, the talent...inho wasn't prepared for those. he already was significantly out of place, nowhere near idol materials in his own opinion, and now he needed to demonstrate idol-like abilities at the drop of a hat.

when they were soon shuffled into the audition rooms in groups, he surveyed those around him. there were others with instruments with them, presumable also for the audition piece. he couldn't use that for the talent though so he'd have to keep thinking. part of him had wondered if he was the only one hiding many tattoos under his black sweatpants and long sleeve shirt, chosen strategically.

"ryu inho, you're next."

his name pulled his attention for his scan of the crowd. quickly, he pulled out his black electric guitar, ensuring it was hooked up to the amp as he stood in front of everyone. had he not spent the last three years standing on stages in bars and tiny venues, he imagined he'd feel out of place and nervous, but he stood sure of himself. auditioning was new but the acts weren't. "my name is ryu inho, i just turned 23, and i'm gonna sing for you."

his hands moved with muscle memory as he began his song, one he covered frequently. it didn't feel right to bring one of his own songs to the tapes for some reason. inho knew this song well, how it showed off his range from the control over his tone to the breathe support and experience it took to hold out lyrics in long and steady manners. it was idol-like, but still very much him. he felt confident in his abilities, knew he sounded good in that moment, all he had to do was perform while playing his guitar.

the 60 seconds passed by quickly. once it was over he turned off the amp and set his guitar back in its case before standing back up. he had some questions to answer.

"why do you want to become a kpop idol?"

of course they would start with that one. he didn't want to be an idol, really. it had never crossed his mind, and what he knew was from what groups or songs his little sister enjoyed. yet, he couldn't admit he was dared to. "i love to sing and connect with people," he explained. "if i was to become an idol, i would be able to do both of those at the same time. maybe have the power to make positive impacts on people's lives." yeah that sounded good.

"which company would you want to receive an offer from and why?"

what were the companies called again? inho struggled to remember the names even though he had been told before. he had five seconds to figure something out. "i would be fortunate and honored to receive an offer from any of the three companies," he began, a slightly sly but confident smile on his lips. "but any three of them would also be very lucky to have me. i don't have a preference."

one more question, he could do this.

"what was the first thing you thought about when you woke up this morning?"

"if my little sister slept well," he answered without hesitation, his smile softening as he thought about inhye, "and what i was going to make us for breakfast."

lastly, he had to have a talent to show off. one more he found his eyes darting around the space before landing on the red item in one of the staff member's hands. "does anyone have an apple? or a few people?" he inquired, "and wouldn't mind lending them to me."

somehow he managed to get a few takers, ending up with three red apples in his hands. inho took a knee briefly, setting two of the apples beside him and keeping one in his hand. "better keep your eyes open, this will go quick," he said, confidently, as his fingers gripped onto the apple and tore it in half. same with the second, and once more with the third in less than 7 seconds. the impressed looks on people's faces was enough to make him feel less guilty about taking the snacks of some people.

once inho had cleaned up his mess and discarded of the apples, he was dismissed politely. someone would be in touch if he passed.

why did he feel like he'd be receiving a message soon about the filming schedule.

#˚ · . solo #be:ngs2p1 #i didn't intend for him to audition for this....yet here we are #wc: 942

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tylrswfts · 6 months ago

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Maybe, it was high praise -- but it also wasn't embellished either, honestly. She had lots of people in her life who cared for her and were people she'd consider thoughtful but, when she looked at the shelf life of her romantic history, most of those former suitors had fallen royally flat in every area that Travis had been able to so effortlessly pick up the pieces. It really was remarkable that he'd met her in such a broken state and found her worth pursuing despite it all; that was one of the many attributes of his that'd struck her in particular in those early days. "Are you kidding me?" She asked with a breathy laugh of disbelief. "You've made my entire year in one night, Travis. This is all I've wanted, all I could've asked for..." her voice trailed off as emotions had struck her again, and she couldn't help but press herself tighter against the warmth of his chest. "Me either," she eventually admitted with a breathy sigh, "you have no idea." She looked up at him with her signature smile on her face, though the one he got out of her was always a little softer than the one that ended up on magazine covers and jumbotron screens. "The intimacy of it is really special to me, I think," she said, merely thinking aloud, "with of course, inviting all of our people for the party of the year afterwards."

"Shut up," she teased, swatting playfully at his chest, "you know exactly what I meant. That long list of titles doesn't matter as much as being your girlfriend now, and anything else I become for us later. Those other jobs are temporary -- I can't do them for the rest of my life, and I reasonably know that despite the fact that I don't really want to make peace with that truth just yet. You're my forever. This is the greatest thing I'll ever accomplish -- loving you and being loved in return." She drank in his words as he spoke, nodding along as every syllable was woven with threads of truth. "You do the same for me; you know I'm my own worst critic, and I can't thank you enough for being the voice of reason to combat the one in my own head on those rough days." She smiled politely and affirmed Travis's gratitude toward the musician for her accompaniment for the evening, making a mental note to send her flowers and a card written on her stationery in the days that followed to express just how special this evening had been and would continue to be -- and how the beautiful rendition of a song that had become more deeply personal than Taylor could've ever imagined was truly the icing on the cake, to dabble in clichés. Her cheeks flushed a powdery pink shade at the tender kiss to her forehead, nerves in the pit of her stomach feeling like they were tangling themselves into knots. It felt like it'd been so long since they'd been able to share an evening like this -- where time didn't seem to run out and they were truly alone. Tour buses and even the most elegant hotel rooms with top security didn't provide the same level of security and sacred time to keep to themselves. Their hands stayed interlocked until they were at the top of the staircase, Taylor dropping Travis's hand only to rest both palms against his chest and lean in for another kiss -- this one slower and far more desperate than any shared outside on the patio. The ruffles of her black shirt rolled over her shoulders, and she could feel her heartbeat beginning to race as her lips dropped to his neck to pepper a slow string of kisses there. "I've been thinking about this -- about you -- all day," she whispered, the lack of space between them inspiring tiny goosebumps that ran across her arms.

He was certain that she had encountered many thoughtful people in her life, but he could also infer that many hadn’t had the purest intentions. His heart was exactly where it needed to be, in the right place. There would never be any conditions — other than her full trust and faith. “Being the most thoughtful you’ve ever met is some high praise,” he said, and hoped that she knew that behavior from him would never end. When it called for it, he had to display his feelings in such a way, even if it meant enlisting help to get his point fully across. Judging by her expressions, he had done just that, and more that night. They couldn’t have been closer, as it were; their hands hadn’t released their holds of each other’s bodies. She had a gravitational pull, one that was emotional and physical simultaneously. “Thank you — For saying yes to forever,” he whispered, feeling her lips against his jaw, as the gentle breeze was the only thing to dry the tears that were left left on his face. She could repeat those words daily, and still, he would treasure them. Every time. “I can’t wait for the day. You have no idea,” he confessed, easily. Life would be complete, then. He had her, and he knew that, but a family? He had laid awake at night thinking about it, wondering if he had lost his chance, but now, he felt so close to having it. He tilted his head back and let out a laugh; a modest civil wedding was most likely the last thing that the public expected of them, which made the idea all the more enticing. “I kind of like the sound of that, a little courthouse wedding,” he said. A large party or a ceremony could always follow. But he couldn’t get too ahead of himself now. He wanted to take every single day as they came, even if he did have those elaborate visions and dreams at the forefront of his mind. Travis nodded, slowly, and allowed his hands to move from her back to hold her hips, tugging on them. “All for us,” he echoed.

“Are you bragging right now? Seriously?” He teased her, and he tickled her sides, just enough to get another laugh out of her. “You are so talented, my love, but the friend, the daughter, the sister — and girlfriend, that you are — That’s what I see the most often and what I admire the most about you,” he said with a wink down at her, as if he hadn’t told her countless times. And the fact that he would always have a front-row seat to her many talents was something he did not take for granted. His lips curved into a smile with that kiss, and feeling the gentle touch of hers and her words that followed. If it was true, that was something he would still have to learn to accept, but with her promise of giving him all the time in the world to learn to be together, to love each other in the way that they desired and needed to be loved, he would get there. “You somehow always see the best in me,” he replied, simply, and shrugged before saying, "I won't stop until I give you the world." Of course, there would always be an existing fear that he would fall short or make a misstep that would cause her to reconsider, but he would push those thoughts to the furthest corner of his mind. “Impolite of you? Never,” he said. He was, after all, completely hers. With his arms still securely around her, he turned his attention towards the musician who had graced them with her presence that evening. “Thank you for being here. For playing our song, for us, and making the night so special.” Travis expressed his gratitude, and made it clear that she could take all the time needed to gather her things, as he and Taylor took in the display of candles surrounding the pool once again. He raised his hands once again, now gingerly holding shoulders, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. It was time, to get to an even safer, and more sacred place, even more so than the atmosphere that he had curated there outside. “I’m ready when you are. You know the way,” he said, and he was aware that behind his words, she could deduce a multitude of meanings. He trusted the musician to take her time and leave on her own accord; meanwhile, his thoughts were already elsewhere. Taylor's hand had found its way back entwined with his, and he gave it a gentle, reassuring squeeze, in an attempt to conceal his own nervous excitement. He allowed her to somewhat lead and followed in step behind her, not saying a word or letting out a sound until they were inside the house once again. The place had a different energy to it now. It felt as safe as before, but his desire was burning, and he communicated that through his actions, grabbing a hold of her that was both possessive and sweet — gentle, yet desperate. Lifting her off the ground was too easy, with the combination of his strength and their height difference. He let out a breathless chuckle against her lips as he started walking, heading straight for the winding staircase.

#long post tw #❪ ⋅ ◆ ⋆ — they called it champagne problems ┊❛ prose ❜ ❫#; travis kelce.#; kansas city sunshine.

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starlessea · 3 years ago

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Here Comes the Sun: XVIII. Seven Nation Army (Daryl Dixon/Reader)

Series Masterlist: Here Comes the Sun

Summary: Daryl Dixon scares the hell out of you climbing out of that damn creek. It takes hauling his ass halfway across Georgia and taking a bullet for him to realise that you're not half bad. He slowly starts to come around, despite grumbling about how much he doesn't like your singing, or that you can't use a gun for shit - and don't get him started on that ugly yellow tent of yours. It takes him a while before he starts to see for himself that he's found a best friend for life, and that he doesn't actually mind the colour yellow that much, after all.

Words: 6040

Chapter Warnings: Language, Not full-on nsfw but QUITE SPICY, Some canon divergence.

"You're good with 'er." Daryl said, like the words had just slipped from his mouth without him realising.

You held Judy in your arms, cradling her against your chest as she looked up at you with wide, innocent eyes. Daryl seemed equally as mesmerised by the baby, as he stroked his thumb over her supple cheek and watched her give him a gummy smile in return.

You glanced over at the man, leaning against him where he stood. "So are you." You told him, but he shook his head in response.

"Nah I ain't." He muttered, his gaze still resting over Judith like she was the most precious thing in the world.

You hummed back, not wanting to break the moment you were having by arguing with him. You wished that things would stay like this forever - that Judith wouldn't cry, and the governor would never come, or that Daryl would not have to leave.

"Where are you going?" You asked the man, as he took a few steps away.

He held up a hand, gesturing for you to wait, and offered a warm smile to reassure you of his return.

"Jus' gimme a minute." He mumbled, walking towards your shared cell.

You raised your eyebrow, watching him disappear behind the bars, before turning your attention back to Judy. You thought that she had Lori's eyes, as they stared up at you in childlike wonder. You continued humming your song to her, now that the man was out of earshot and wouldn't tease you as you sang it. Daryl had suggested sticking the walkman headphones on her every time she cried, but Carol had scolded him for even thinking of the idea. You giggled, remembering the exchange, and how you just watched the two of them get along like old friends whilst you sat in the corner bouncing Judith over your lap.

Daryl came back not even a few minutes later, dragging his rucksack over the floor. He didn't have many possessions to begin with, so you cocked your head in his direction - confused about what could possibly be in there. He returned to your side, resting his arm around your shoulder as he hovered over it to make a face at Judith. You giggled, wondering what the others would say if they had the pleasure of seeing Daryl like this. Though, at the same time, you almost wanted to be completely selfish and not share that side of him with anyone.

You watched as the man fumbled around in the backpack for a bit, before pulling out a familiar, child-size sheriff's hat that couldn't possibly fit on his head. He grinned at you, taking in the way your eyes lit up in response.

"Said we'd give it to lil' asskicker, didn't we?" He teased, before placing the hat gently over the baby's head.

The sight made you want to melt. Daryl began to call Rick over to see, but you slapped his chest and hushed him before he did, wanting to enjoy the moment for yourselves just a little while longer. Daryl narrowed his eyes at you, but his expression soon softened as he noticed the way you stared down at Judith, who was staring right back. You felt like you were holding the future in your arms - and that future wore a sheriff's hat and went by the name of Judith Grimes. What you wouldn't give for a camera; you wanted so desperately to take a photo of her with her brother, and gift a copy to Rick as a surprise.

Daryl had his hand resting over the small of your back. It had hovered there at first, uneasy as usual, but it seemed like he'd forgotten his shyness for a brief moment as he watched the pair of you. You felt like a makeshift, adoptive family, and you wouldn't want it any other way. The hat started to slip down Judith's head, still too big for her yet, and Daryl tipped it back up gently with his knuckle. It was like an impromptu version of peek-a-boo. Everytime the hat fell and covered her face, Daryl would prop it back into position and the baby would smile. You weren't sure you could take it anymore; the entire exchange felt too adorable to keep from the rest of the group any longer.

Just as you were about to call for them, Judy grabbed onto Daryl's finger with her entire fist - which still wasn't able to close all the way around it. You laughed softly at the man's expression, as he stayed perfectly motionless in fear of making her let go.

"I think she likes her uncle Daryl." You whispered, and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek in your attempt to unstick the frozen statue.

To that, you could see a faint blush spread over his skin, but this time you decided not to tease him about it.

The two of you made your way to the communal area after a few more minutes, and the others quickly gathered around to get a look at Judith before they left. It was a nice break from the tension in the atmosphere, and it helped you forget, too. Rick gave his daughter a kiss and headed outside to test the vehicle they'd be driving.

Soon, the meeting with the governor would be taking place. Andrea had set it up, like she'd promised, and so Rick, Daryl and Hershel would be heading out under the guise of diplomacy. However, you couldn't say for sure that you believed in the plan very much. As you'd all established before, the governor just didn't seem like the type of man who'd let both sides co-exist peacefully.

Carl had taken his sister from you at some point, and you watched as he compared their hats and made Carol laugh with his antics. Behind you, the Greenes were bidding goodbye to their father and reminding him to be careful, and Daryl approached you under the amused eye of Merle.

"Rick says it's time to go." He told you, affirming the words you'd been dreading to hear.

You put on your best, bravest face and shot him a smile that only faltered a little. He caught it, though - he always did. He pulled you into a hug, and you leant your forehead against his chest, feeling his heartbeat there.

"Be safe." You murmured against him. "Come home this time or I'll kill you myself."

The man chuckled, which you felt rumble through his torso. You looked up at him with a playful smile and he caught your lips, giving you a quick kiss there when he thought no one was looking. In moments like these, it was refreshing to get a glimpse of the old, shy Daryl - never wanting to be in the spotlight. You nudged him gently with your elbow, sending him on his way with a teasing ruffle of his hair. Perhaps you were being too nonchalant about the situation, but you didn't want to dwell on it - or you'd become a crumbling mess like the last time.

You stood next to Beth as the rest of the group filtered out, and the others returned back to whatever they'd been doing before. The girl smiled at you, watching the way your eyes followed Daryl's back as he left the cell block.

"I'll never get used to that." She said quietly, looking between the two of you.

You thought that she'd perhaps seen the exchange take place, but you couldn't really say that you minded.

"Me neither." You confessed, and Beth giggled in response.

You remembered the jokes you'd shared with her, back at the farmhouse. You'd made a promise to talk to her about boys whenever she was sad, and let her laugh at your misfortune in return. Yet, things hadn't exactly played out like that. Daryl was a world away from those bad experiences you'd once recounted to her, but you somehow seemed even more nervous to talk about him in their place. Perhaps it was because you wanted to keep the man all to yourself, just like earlier - as though the very act of speaking about him would disclose some kind of secret you weren't willing to share. Daryl Dixon was yours, but you felt almost too shy to admit it.

"I used to think that Daryl would be the last man standing." Beth confessed, startling you. "Out of all of us."

You nodded back, letting her words sink in.

"I can see why. He's like a one-man army." You replied with a smirk, thinking back on all the times he had proved himself so.

Though Beth shook her head, seeming to almost disagree with herself. You stayed silent, awaiting her response.

"But I don't think that anymore." She told you, like she was completely certain of herself. "It'll probably be you."

Immediately, you raised an eyebrow, wondering if you'd misheard her. Beth's expression didn't change, so you let out a snort in disbelief - amused by the seriousness of it all.

"Me?" You repeated, looking over at her like she'd gone mad. "Why's that?"

The youngest Greene bit her lip, as if deliberating whether to tell you her next words. Eventually, she gave you a light-hearted smile, as though having finally decided to reveal a secret.

"Because there's no way Daryl would let you go down before he did."

You spent the majority of your time waiting in your cell, trying to keep yourself busy by cleaning it up. Daryl had hauled his mattress into the room, and the two of you had abandoned the bunk frame in favour of pushing the two beds together on the floor - creating a makeshift double. You'd also stolen an extra sheet from the laundry room and hung it over your doorway for some privacy. It was still a far cry from the decor of Hershel's farmhouse, but it was starting to feel more comfortable nonetheless. Daryl had given you some thin rope from his rucksack, too, so you'd been able to replace the fraying string from which your polaroids had been strung up. It still wasn't a home yet, but it could be.

The last few days had been tense, so you couldn't blame yourself for slumping down onto the mattress and staring up into a starless, stone sky for a while. You followed the cracks on the ceiling like you were trying to create patterns there, and eventually you felt your eyelids grow heavy as sleep overcame you easier than it had done for as long as you could remember.

When you woke up, the room was dimmer than it had been before, and you thought that it had to be late evening. You'd roused to the sound of footsteps approaching, echoing over the catwalk as though the person wore thick, heavy boots. You smiled to yourself, instantly recognising who they belonged to. The metal doorway squeaked open, and some light filtered in as Daryl lifted the sheet hanging there, letting it fall back down behind him as he entered. You greeted him, but he was wordless in response. He shrugged his leather vest off and let it fall to the floor, not even bothering to place it anywhere.

You raised an eyebrow at the man, debating whether to scold him for making the cell messy when you'd spent your whole day trying to make it nice for him when he got back. Yet, you took one glance at Daryl's face and decided against it. The man looked exhausted. Probably not physically, you realised, but definitely mentally. He seemed to have a permanent scowl tacked onto him, and you could make out the frown lines over his forehead even in the poor lighting. So, you said nothing when the man tugged off his boots and flung them at the wall - where they fell with a thud into a pile.

Sitting up on the mattress, you plumped your pillow against your back and rubbed your eyes. You could almost feel the stress radiating off Daryl as he paced back and forth, so you patted the spot beside you and pulled back the covers to invite him in. He eyed you for a second, as if considering the offer, before taking a seat there. Though, he didn't allow himself to lay down or make himself comfortable, and instead stayed sat over the edge of the mattress with his back to you. Slowly, you crawled over to him, before perching on your knees and resting your head on his shoulder.

"How'd it go?" You whispered, but knew you could probably guess the answer.

Daryl's back was tense; you could feel it. Tentatively, you began to knead your fingers over it, trying to work out the knots in his muscles. Instead of flinching like he usually did, you felt the man relax into you as you pressed your knuckles along his spine.

He growled, but the sound became lost in his throat as you rubbed along his shoulder blades. "It ain't gonna work out." He muttered, eyes closed as he said it.

You hummed in response, more preoccupied with the sounds the man was letting out than his words. It reminded you of being back at the farm, and those days where he'd try to relieve the tension built up in your stiff arms and neck from learning how to shoot.

"Why?" You asked, feeling the deep breath he took underneath your palms.

"Jus' ain't." He replied, but his voice came out strained.

You ran your thumbs down his spine in tandem, all the way from the top of his neck to his lower back, and you felt him shiver slightly under your touch.

"Okay then." You said, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

Daryl opened his eyes and glanced back at you.

"Tha's it?" He questioned, like he'd expected something more from your response.

You hummed back, returning to pressing over his shoulder blades. Though, the man turned around this time, bringing his legs onto the mattress as he looked over at you.

"I trust you. And I trust Rick." You explained, meeting his questioning eyes. "Whatever we have to do, we'll do."

Daryl frowned, and looked at you like you didn't understand in the slightest. You did, but you didn't want to burden him any more than you had to.

"We gotta gear up for war." He told you, narrowing his eyes like he was trying to convince you of his words - or wait for them to sink in.

You nodded at him, reaffirming that you understood.

"Then we better start loading our guns."

Daryl seemed to break at your words, shaking his head like you'd answered him in the way he'd least wanted. This time you didn't understand, and ran your thumb over the back of his hand to try and coax out an explanation. The man sighed, and took your fingers in his palm as he pressed a kiss over the tips of them.

"Don' wan' ya to have to fight." He admitted quietly, but knew he didn't have a choice.

You shuffled forward a little, so that you were almost sitting in between the man's thighs. His head was low, and he couldn't quite meet your eyes until you spoke.

"That's not up to you to decide." You said, but did so as gently as you could. "It's not like lil' asskicker can hold a rifle yet."

His eyes flickered slightly at the mention of Judith, and you understood that completely. He realised that as much as he wanted to keep you safe, there were now other people who needed his protection more.

"I'm not worried." You reassured him, and pressed both of his cheeks under your palms until he pulled a face that made you laugh.

"I'll be fine because you're here." You told the man, and watched as his expression seemed a little lighter than it had done. "And you're all that I need."

He pulled you into his chest and fell back against the mattress with you in his arms, and you giggled as your noses pressed together. You moved your knees so that they rested either side of his hips, not wanting to crush the man as he squeezed you tight against him.

"What I do to deserve ya?" He mumbled into your hair, and it tickled your ear.

You sat upright, so that you were looking down at him and watching as your hair trailed over his cheeks.

"Hmm, I don't know." You said with a grin. "Bribe me with pretty flowers and music players?"

He smiled back softly, and took the ends of your hair between his fingers, playing with them where he lay. You felt a bit exposed, practically sitting on the man's torso and straddling him as he just stayed perfectly still, content beneath you. For once, you felt like the shy one, as he rubbed over your thigh with his hand - tracing shapes over your jeans. You thought about his question once more, and decided that he deserved a serious answer, too.

"When I first saw you trying to haul yourself up that cliff, you gave me a purpose." You admitted smally, catching his attention like you hadn't even realised you'd lost it. "I think that's reason enough."

Daryl let the small wisps of your hair fall from his fingers as he looked up, focusing on you completely.

"A purpose?" He asked, like the word was foreign on his tongue.

You nodded, trailing your fingers over his chest absentmindedly.

"Even if it was just to get you back to your camp at first." You mumbled, almost like you were talking to yourself as you voiced your innermost thoughts. "Before that, I was just living day to day."

You smiled at the memory, thinking that it was perhaps your favourite one. You'd felt so young back then, but at the same time so old. The world had really had its way with you before you'd stumbled upon Daryl and his group. You might have only been in your mid-twenties, but those few months after the collapse had aged you more than you cared to admit. It wasn't until you met Daryl that you remembered how it felt to be young again.

"One of the first things you asked me back then was why I helped you." You recalled, letting your nails lightly run across his chest, sliding upwards to the exposed skin of his neck.

He stayed silent, like putty in your hands as you spoke.

"I remember finding it a really hard question to answer." You whispered softly, like you were revealing a secret to him. "I ended up saying that I only wanted the chance to be a good person."

Daryl's skin was warm as you ran your thumb along his jawline, surprised at how docile he'd become under your touch.

"But I think that was a lie." You smiled, and the words felt almost devious to admit. "I'd forgotten what it was to even be a person before I met you."

You leant down to press a kiss to his lips, and pulled away before he could kiss you back.

"Thank you for reminding me, Daryl."

You looked down at the man sweetly, like you'd just poured out your entire heart to him. And, he decided to give you his in return.

Suddenly your world spun like clothes in a washing machine as the man flipped your positions, and you snorted rather unflatteringly as your back hit the mattress. Your legs were still wrapped around his waist, but now he kneeled between them - with your thighs either side. Your laughs soon trailed off as you noticed Daryl's expression, and you suddenly became quiet without having even realised it.

He leant down to capture your lips, but pulled away before you could deepen the kiss - just as you had done.

"Ya can't just go sayin' shit like that an' expect me not to do nothin'." He growled near your ear, and you quickly realised how dangerous your situation had gotten.

You looped your hands around his neck and pulled him back down, threading your fingers through his hair and letting your nails drag along his scalp. He rested one of his palms over the mattress as he hovered above you, but the other one came to your cheek as your lips met again. You could distinguish Daryl's kisses so easily by now; you knew the soft morning ones from the emotional ones with trembling lips, or the teasing pecks that made you laugh - and that's why you could easily tell that this one was needy.

He bit your bottom lip between his teeth and you immediately whimpered against him, feeling your head spin at how fast everything happened. You'd gone from the washing machine to the dryer without even realising it, and you felt yourself get equally as hot and disorientated.

"Daryl-" you mumbled against his lips, hooking your ankles together around the back of his torso.

He moaned in response but said nothing, letting his thumb trail from your cheek to your neck, where he rested it over your quickly beating pulse. You had your palms pressed flat against his chest, rubbing over the area and feeling the warmth radiate from him. You wanted to take the shirt off, and feel his skin over yours, but you were too preoccupied by his lips on you to do so. He kissed you with more pressure, and you whimpered again as you felt yourself becoming more lost to his touches. You'd thought that Daryl Dixon was a shy man, but recently he seemed adamant to prove you wrong

You unintentionally squeezed your thighs tighter around him, as you felt your head being pushed back further into the mattress. Your jeans rubbed against his uncomfortably, and you felt the buttons dig into your hips and chafe your skin every time you moved. You pulled away for a brief second to catch your breath, and took in the dangerous sight of Daryl Dixon.

You realised that perhaps you'd made a mistake - when you looked at him, that is. His lips were swollen a blush red, and his pupils were blown as he watched you, watching him. You looked away first, feeling shy under his gaze. You wondered how this had happened - when it had happened. You hadn't thought of yourself as the nervous one, but you were made nervous for him.

Without meeting his eyes, you tugged at the hemline of his shirt - making it clear what you wanted. He kissed your forehead gently, and you almost got whiplash from how quickly the man could switch from giving you deep, intense kisses to leaving sweet pecks over your skin like he was afraid you might break. He moved back from you, sitting up so that he was kneeling in between your legs, and pulled off his shirt without you having to ask.

You bit your lip, taking in the sight of his barreled chest and toned muscles as he threw the shirt over his shoulder for it to get lost somewhere in the sheets. You didn't get too stare long, because he was back on top of you in an instant - almost like he'd never left. Though, you didn't mind much, because now you could feel the warmth of his skin pressed against your own chest. Softly, you gasped just from the intensity of it, but Daryl quickly caught your lips and silenced it. You ran your hands up his back, feeling the ridges of scars and the contours of his muscles as he held himself up. You allowed your nails to dig into him slightly, enjoying the way he moaned against you as you did.

Even inside the walls of a prison, Daryl's voice sounded so good up against your ear, as he left your abused lips to focus his attention on your neck, instead. You immediately turned your head to the side in response, feeling your cheek press into the pillow and muffle any noises you made there. You tried to stay quiet, but it seemed like Daryl was intentionally out to make you fail. His tongue ran along your neck and you scratched him particularly hard on his back, stuttering out an apology as you removed your hands and clenched the sheets instead.

It didn't seem to bother the man, however, as he continued to work his way down until his teeth grazed over your collarbone and made you cry out. You quickly shot him a warning look, and he glanced up at you for a brief second before he did it again. It felt utterly euphoric, so you moaned under him unintentionally before you felt him chuckle against your skin.

You would have scolded him, or pulled a face, but your words felt so far away that you doubted you'd be able to form a complete sentence even if you tried. One of Daryl's hands had wandered to your waist, and then dipped lower to your hip. His thumb ran over the bone there, and it sent shivers through you as he gripped your skin tighter. You ran your palms over his bare chest in response, still not entirely used to the feeling. He stopped what he was doing, probably leaving some marks over you without you noticing, and ran his finger along the oval collar of your vest.

"Take it off." He mumbled, his lips still pressed against the skin just above it.

A whine left your mouth before you'd even realised it, and you didn't think Daryl Dixon even knew how he sounded right now. He pulled back to look at you, cheeks all flushed and eyes glossy where you lay beneath him, and you nodded.

He helped you shrug the vest over your head, and left it lying next to you on the pillow. You turned away from his eyes almost instantly, feeling more exposed than you had in a while. He had trusted you, and you wanted to be able to give him your trust in return. Yet, you couldn't help but feel shy under a gaze that intense. You reached your arms over your chest, like you were trying to shelter yourself from the cold - despite being incredibly hot.

The man narrowed his eyes at you, not happy with your decision in the slightest. He leant down so that his lips hovered just above your stomach, and you expected him to place a kiss there in hopes of coaxing your arms away. Except, he didn't. He blew a raspberry against your skin and you all but screamed as you wriggled beneath him, and flung your hands out to push him away.

"Stop!" You yelled, but it had come out strained between a mixture of giggles.

You felt the man smile against your stomach as you panted deeply, in utter disbelief about what he'd just done. Your arms rested either side of you, hands tangled in the sheets just like he'd planned, but you weren't happy at the cost you'd had to pay. You glanced down, ready to chide him, but stopped when you noticed how quiet he'd gotten.

Daryl's eyes were fixated on your waist, and he ran his thumb gently over the small scar there - as though afraid to press too hard and hurt you. Your eyes softened when you saw his expression, and the way he chewed his lip between his teeth. You knew that guilty look from a mile away, and you wouldn't let him wear it any longer.

"Don't." You said into the silence, lifting his hand away from the little indentation there.

You brought his knuckles to your lips and left kisses over them, offering him one of your best smiles in hopes of coaxing one out of him in return.

"It was worth it." You told him. "I'd take another bullet for you if I had to."

Daryl let his forehead drop against your hip, like he was completely exasperated by the response, and muttered something below his breath.

"Why's everythin' that comes outta yer mouth so damn sweet?"

He crawled back up the bed and kissed your lips as if to prove his point, and you moaned against him - having missed the feeling. You were chest to chest, skin pressed fully against each other as you arched your back to try and get even closer. Your fingers trailed lightly over his arms, and you could almost make out the rhythm of his heartbeat as your chests heaved together in time. He reached a hand down to the button of your jeans, and pulled away from the kiss to wait for your response.

Nervously, you glanced over towards the entranceway of your cell, only covered by a thin sheet draped there.

"What if someone hears?" You whispered, suddenly aware of how loud you'd perhaps been beforehand.

Daryl dotted some light kisses over your neck, trailing them down as he spoke between each one he gave.

"Don' care." He mumbled, reaching your sternum.

"Don' care if Rick comes to tell us Randall's gone walk about." He said, and tickled your stomach with his lips.

"Don' care if Carol knocks to say the governor's here with an army an' wants his fuckin' walkman back."

He got to your hip, and this time noticed the tattoo that just about peeked out over the top of your jeans. He raised an eyebrow, and you smiled sheepishly in response.

"Don' wanna wait anymore." He said softly, and neither did you.

He sat up and rested his palms either side of you, looking down at your face with the most affection you'd seen from him yet.

"Okay, then." You whispered back, and interlocked your fingers with his. "I'm yours."

You woke up to warm, morning light streaming in through the pale curtain of your cell, and landing on your cheek. Your eyelids fluttered, and it took you a few seconds to adjust to the brightness - feeling the tears well up as you did. You hummed into Daryl's chest, lying over it with your palm resting there. You'd slept so well, but you'd woken up even better.

His bare skin was warm against yours, so much so that you didn't feel the need to pull the sheets up higher to cover you. You rubbed at your eyes, finally opening them to notice that the man was already awake. You'd been tucked in the crook of his neck, your head just over his shoulder, but he'd been looking down at you as you roused from sleep. Shyly, you smiled at him, and hid your face back into his skin. You felt his laugh rumble there, low and groggy.

"You been up long?" You asked, the words coming out thick as you said them.

You felt him shake his head, but weren't too sure if he was telling the truth. His arm rested over your waist, and you had only just become aware of the weight of it as he rubbed his thumb over your hip beneath the covers.

"What is it?" He murmured. "Didn't ask ya 'bout it las' night."

It took you a few seconds to realise what he meant. You shrugged back the sheet, looking at the part of your body he was referring to.

"I think you were a little preoccupied." You teased, and he pinched your skin there in response.

The ink stood out strongly against your paleness, dotted over your lower hip so that it was concealed even when you wore low-rise jeans. You recalled that night back at the Greene farm, where you all shared secrets over the campfire and the group had seemed surprised to discover that you had a tattoo. Nobody else had ever seen it; Daryl was the first.

"It's a rune." You told him, feeling his calloused fingers trace over the lines so carefully. "They were one of the things I studied before all this."

A small blush worked its way onto your cheeks, as you suddenly felt embarrassed under the man's intense gaze.

"Looks like an arrow." He noted, inspecting it closer.

You hummed in response, not having thought of it that way before.

"I guess it does, doesn't it?" You chuckled, thinking how appropriate it was for the archer to have been the one to notice.

"It's the symbol of the Norse god Týr." You explained, and he watched you talk passionately without interrupting. "Have you ever heard of the story of Sigurd?"

Daryl shook his head with a small smile, already knowing that you were going to tell him no matter how he answered.

"In the sagas, he slays the dragon Fáfnir and carves the runes of Týr into his sword." You said, excitedly. "They're meant to be the sign of a warrior. To ensure certain victory."

Daryl seemed perfectly content, gazing down at you as you spoke with so much life in your voice. It reminded you of that first night where you shared a bed together in the Greene's spare room. Even then, having barely known you more than a day, the man allowed you to ramble whilst he listened in silence. He'd made out like he was ignoring you, but every small detail you'd given during those early morning hours he'd seemed to recall - even a few weeks later. But now, you thought it was slightly different. He made no attempt to pretend like he wasn't interested in your stories, or that you talked too much for him to stand. He looked at you like your words were law, but he'd somehow ended up in a prison anyway.

"Tha' why ya weren't scared 'bout facing the governor?" He teased, once you'd finished your brief lesson. "Certain victory?"

You snorted, having only just realised the irony of it all.

"No." You admitted, slapping his chest lightly as you laughed.

Maybe it was the rune, but it was more likely the one-man army at your side who assured you of that victory.

"I think this tattoo would be much more suited to you than it is me." You confessed, tracing its shape over the back of his hand.

He watched you make your invisible markings, and remained wordless as you did so.

"I got it just after I started teaching. To remind myself to be brave." You told him, and this time he was the one to laugh.

"So teachin' students was as hard as slayin' a dragon?" He questioned, and you could practically hear the smirk through his voice.

You raised your head from his chest to look at him in mock offense.

"If I had a student like you, then maybe." You teased, and the man grabbed the sheets and bundled you up in them tightly as you struggled against him.

The two of you lay there for a while, not quite yet ready to face the day. You knew the inevitable would be coming soon, and you wished you could just pause this moment as easily as you paused the songs on your walkman - immortalising it in an old, labelled cassette.

"A lot of the time I don't feel very brave, but I've decided to trust it more recently." You mumbled, feeling the edges of sleep start to return.

Daryl questioned you, before realising that you had carried on with the earlier conversation - seemingly by yourself. You felt him trace over your hip again, but your eyelids were too heavy to look at him.

"There anythin' ya don't know?" He grumbled, but it was too playful to be considered so. "Yer too smart for yer own good, Sunshine."

You hummed against his chest, wanting nothing more than for the morning hours to drag along slower, and for the night that followed to stand still.

"I could tell you stories of dragons and knights, and speak to you in languages that have long since faded away." You told the man, but it came out half-hearted and muffled against his skin.

"But there are still many things I don't know, Dixon." You admitted. "Like what I did to deserve you, too."

A/N *mic drop* Ok but for real, who let me have alcohol whilst writing this??? Tipsy me gets WAY TOO SPICY WAY TOO QUICK- The chapter plan had way more in it, but I accidentally threw the plot out the window because I got preoccupied *cough*...

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ikeromantic · 3 years ago

Text

Fake It Til You Make It

A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfiction - approx. 2200 words. This scene takes place post-romantic epilogue. Fluff and a little spice.

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: Adrift

Kyubei watched the innkeeper through narrowed eyes. Though the man was clearly nervous, he didn’t seem to be lying. His story hadn’t changed in the last three tellings, so either he was an accomplished liar or he was telling the truth.

“L-lord Akechi and the woman left with one of the Akechi warriors. Right after we saw the fire across the lake,” the innkeeper said for the fourth time. “Then the storm came and after that, no one saw him.”

“Do you remember anything else? Did anyone else come in after they left? Did you see anyone acting strangely?”

The man shook his head. “No, I mean, not really? Everyone was a bit strange after we saw the blaze. Wondering if Azuchi was still standing.” He frowned. “You think it might have been Lord Akechi? Him disappearing like that right after -”

Kyubei cut him off. “No. That was the work of the Mouri clan.” It wasn’t the first person he’d spoken with that suspected. And why wouldn’t they? Mitsuhide was only just back from his misadventure at the shogun’s side. An ally in disgrace. A man not to be trusted.

The worst part of all this was that Kyubei really had no idea what his lord wanted him to do. Should he quash the rumors? Encourage them? Mitsuhide’s instructions from his last letter said nothing about an attack on Azuchi - not like this - and nothing about disappearing. Of course, he pretended like he knew exactly what was going on. He had to, until he received additional instructions.

“So . . . am I free to go?” The innkeeper was frowning now. His nervousness replaced by a desire to get back to making money at the inn.

“For now,” Kyubei said. He gave the man a hard stare. “If I need anything else, I will send someone for you.”

The innkeeper bowed and left, leaving Kyubei alone with his thoughts. It really seemed that in the storm, his lord had simply vanished into thin air. And Miyake too.

Perhaps they'd left with Ranmaru, who was also missing. But if so, there would be a letter. A message. Something!

The castle staff had no idea where he was - they’d waited for him to return for hours. Miyake’s squad couldn’t find their commander either. Both men were expected.

And the chatelaine . . . his lady. Kyubei worried that he had failed to protect her again.

***

Morning came with pale light through a high window. It fell across four careworn, sleeping faces. Sasuke and Miyake lay in a tangle of blankets on the floor, and in a bed, Mitsuhide clung to his little mouse. He woke with the first notes of bird-song, but kept his eyes shut. He wasn’t ready to confront the strange world of 500 years in the future just yet.

His little one stirred in his arms as the sound of morning birds turned into a hum of outside activity. “Is it . . . are we really . . .” She opened her eyes and looked around Sarutobi’s flat. “We’re really here.”

Mitsuhide nodded.

“I want to be happy about it, but . . .”

He shushed her with a kiss. “It will be fine. Worrying won’t return us faster.”

She sighed and buried her face against his chest. “I know. I just hope everyone is alright.”

“They will be,” Mitsuhide reassured her. He didn’t think of it as a lie - simply an assumption he based on his past experience. Nobunaga would handle this threat as he did others that came before it.

And Kyubei would see to what the left hand needed to be doing.

Sasuke sat up, rubbing his face. “I apologize for the accommodations,” he told them. The same apology he’d given the night before.

“At least we had somewhere to sleep.” The chatelaine sat up and wiggled out of the blanket. “I should probably check on my flat and see if it’s still mine. If so, we won't have to impose on you a second night. Although,” she sighed. “I don’t have my ID or my keys or anything.”

“I don't mind,” Sasuke replied. “You are welcome to continue crashing here. Although, we may not be here for long. Weren’t there activities you wanted to do in this time? While you can?” His left eyebrow lifted almost imperceptibly.

Mitsuhide gave her one of his slow, warm smiles. His fingers traced a path down her spine. “Yes, you did mention some things I would like to see, since we are here.”

His little mouse arched like a cat against his hand. “I did . . . yes. Alright. Since we’re here, we might as well try to enjoy it!”

Miyake rolled over on the floor and pulled the blanket over his head.

“I take it that means you plan to stay here for the day?”

Sasuke answered for the half-asleep warrior. “Actually, I would really appreciate it if Miyake would accompany me. I need to go to my university and make some arrangements.”

Miyake groaned and sat up. He blinked as his gaze went around the room, taking in all the strange objects. Finally, he settled on the ninja. “You need protection or something?”

“No. I don’t think anyone will attack me.” Sasuke felt around for his glasses and slid them on. “But I expect to be moving some heavy equipment in the lab. And I may have a friend who can help us out with those arrangements, if you're there to corroborate my story.”

“Corr what?” Miyake frowned.

“Authenticate. Like a two factor security key.” The ninja grinned.

The warrior looked to Mitsuhide uncertainly.

“If Sarutobi believes you can assist him today, then that is what you will do. I am sure my fiancée and I will be fine.”

The chatelaine looked less certain about this, but she nodded agreement.

The four of them took turns dressing in the ‘washroom’ to give each other privacy. His morning was one of surprise as the . . . toilet . . . squirted him with water. And warm or cold water came from a metal spigot at the turn of a handle too, spilling into a porcelain basin. There were more smokeless lanterns - electric lights they were called - and other wonders.

Had Mitsunari been there, he was sure the scholar could have spent weeks studying every device but Mitsuhide just needed to know how to use it.

In this place, he was the naïve child, and his little one, the wise teacher. Such a shift in their positions was hard to take. Mitsuhide didn’t think of himself as arrogant but this situation was humbling in the extreme. Thankfully, he managed to get through dressing and breakfast without any serious mishaps.

Sasuke and Miyake left to the university. The flat was silent in their wake. Mitsuhide and his little mouse sat on the edge of the bed. She was tapping away at a . . . tablet . . . to get access to her accounts. The electronic scroll was interesting, at least. With pictures and writing all lit up so you could read it even in the dark.

Mitsuhide stood and stretched, trying to get used to moving in his new clothes. They were Sarutobi’s and didn’t quite fit. He was dressed in a pair of pants that clung tightly to his legs and ended short of his ankle. The top was a soft weave, dyed black. It sported an odd blue character on it and the word Sonic. Sarutobi said the picture was a hedgehog, whatever that was.

He would have liked to wear something without a picture on it. He’d had the choice between this one and something with a lizard that walked on two legs and shot fire from its mouth. Those were the only two shirts the ninja had that were long enough to cover him to his waist. And there was no way he was walking around with a bare midriff. Even if his little mouse looked interested in the idea.

Her midriff was bare afterall, she’d laughed. And it was - sort of. She tied one of Sasuke’s shirts in a bow under her breasts and had a pair of his shorts on. Though Mitsuhide wasn’t familiar with the clothes of this time, he thought she looked like a child trying to fit into her father’s clothes. Endearingly cute, but ill fit. Some of the clothes they saw women wearing on the way in the night before would have looked much better on her.

She looked up as if she knew he was thinking about her. “Ok, I think we’re ready to go.”

“Where to, my love?”

“Well, first to my apartment. It looks like my rent payments have all been made. And the building manager knows me so I should be able to get a spare key.” Her smile was all relief.

They arrived to the apartment, a small space in a tall building that reminded Mitsuhide of a castle, if the castle was robbed of all charm and beauty. Her room was utilitarian and sterile, and while there was still the wonder of technology, he could see none of her personality in the space. He said as much.

“Hm, yeah. I didn’t really have time to decorate. The apartment came furnished. I moved in and then, well,” she laughed. “I ended up in Azuchi with you.”

Mitsuhide pulled her into a hug. “A fate worse than death, little mouse?”

“You know it wasn’t,” she giggled, laughing harder as he ran his fingers down her sensitive sides. Holding her like this felt like home, even if nothing else was familiar.

After several slow breaths, they let go of each other.

“I must confess, I cannot see you living in this place. It doesn’t seem very safe. And you don’t have much room for your sewing.” Mitsuhide couldn’t help but poke into her cabinets, shelves, and drawers.

She nodded. “Yeah, it’s pretty small but it was a place I could afford on my own.”

Mitsuhide heard the pride in her voice. He smiled. “I can imagine you coming here, determined to make it on your own.” He turned from the cabinet he was inspecting to see her stripping off her shirt.

Her pert breasts were a pleasant surprise, but she crossed her arms over them as soon as she saw him looking. “I’m just changing clothes! I didn’t want to wear Sasuke’s basketball shorts all day.”

“Please, continue.”

“I - I can’t while you’re staring at me!” She turned so that all he could see was her back.

Mitsuhide laughed. “Are we not lovers? How many times have I kissed, nibbled, caressed every bit of your skin from head to toe?”

She shivered, skin dimpling with remembered touches. Slow, nervous, she turned back around. Her arms lowered, revealing her chest again. “You can watch if you want to.”

He wasn’t sure if it was nerves or mischief that made her voice squeak at the end. Either was amusing. “Mmm, I’m a lucky man to get a show.”

“You are,” she smiled. Her fingers went to the tie on the shorts. They fell away, pooling around her feet. Underneath, she wore nothing.

Mitsuhide sucked in a breath.

Her hips swayed as she walked to her wardrobe. She glanced over her shoulder at him and fluttered her eyelashes, trying to be saucy. The effect was a little spoiled by the blush that ran from her cheeks to the tips of her ears. From within the wardrobe she pulled out a little twist of cloth. It was light blue and made of some embroidered material.

He didn’t realize he could see her skin through it until she slipped it on, slowly pulling the fabric taut over her curves. Though she was technically covered, it was somehow more tempting than just skin alone. “What . . . is that?”

“Panties.” She giggled. Then she pulled out a matching bit of cloth and wrapped it around her chest. The rise of her breasts were restrained by this new piece of clothing as she reached behind her as if to tie it.

“And that?”

“My bra.” She turned right, then left, letting him get a good view.

The sight made Mitsuhide want to simultaneously rip the clothing off her and still enjoy looking at her in them. It wasn’t possible to have both . . .

“To be honest, it’s been kind of nice not wearing these the last few months. But I think I would feel weird if I didn’t wear them with my modern clothes.”

“I like them.” Mitsuhide smiled widely. A grin that brought heat to her gaze before she looked away, suddenly shy. He knew this ground well. Even here in a world where everything was strange, his little one was the same.

He stepped forward, reaching to cup her cheek. His other hand settled lightly on her hip, fingertips stroking the skin just above the fabric of her panties. She inhaled sharply, lips parting. Mitsuhide took the invitation.

The kiss was, at first, gentle and sweet, but the press of their bodies built heat between them. Their breath mingled, tongues entwined. Hands grasping, stroking, pulling. Tearing.

Mitsuhide stopped at the sound of fabric ripping.

His little one gasped and reached down to feel the damage. Her eyes widened. “You . . . tore my panties.” Then she started to laugh.

He laughed too. Never in his life had he expected a woman so wonderful. A woman he would want badly enough to - literally - tear the clothes off her. This kind of passion he’d always believed was fake. Yet here he was. It was unthinkable. Incredible. “I love you,” Mitsuhide told her, smiling so widely that it hurt.

“I love you too.”

She gestured to the wardrobe. "I should probably, you know. Finish." It took only a moment for her to shimmy into her own clothes. Then they headed out into this strange world that was his home 500 years after death.

Next: Kitsune's Day Out

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen mitsuhide #mitsuhide akechi #otome boys #otome #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff

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tactiletelekonesis · 3 years ago

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yet another yj98 inspired playlist (+explanations for why i picked the songs i did)

Ayyyy, I love making playlists for my favorite superhero team, so here's another one!

Song list (+reasoning):

The Archer by Taylor Swift

OK so this song reminds me of Cissie King Jones for SO many reasons but like, "Dark side, I search for your dark side" - she started showing a dark side before she quit heroing, "And all of my heroes die all alone, help me hold on to you" - so many of her friends have died, and then just the fact that she's an archer, and AHHHH I could gush about this song but I'll spare you.

Asthma Attack by NOAHFINNCE

This song reminds me of Tim as he slowly realizes how alike he is to Bruce despite not wanting to be Batman ("I am the physical embodiment of everything I never wanted to be") and how much he lies to people in his life because of his double life ("If lying was a crime, then I'd be doing time. I don't mean to whine but just imagine having to lie to friends, foes, all of those people that should matter most, living a double life just as obvious as Pinocchio")

Battle Scars by Paradise Fears

I don't have strong feelings on this song yet, but it's very much a feel good, don't-give-up, type song that I feel fits with YJ

Born Ready by Dove Cameron

Yes this was originally for some Marvel thing but like superheroes are superheroes, it's free game. "So if it takes forever, we'll save the world together" is SUCH a YJ thing

Comeback Kid by New Politics

Also not a song that I have strong feelings about yet, but I think the idea of bouncing back, being a comeback kid is very fitting for YJ cos they face adversary together but keep getting back up (even if there are times that some of them need to quit heroing for a bit)

Could Have Been Me by The Struts

The whole song is about not wanting to live with regret and living in the moment and that's very much YJ

Good Times by All Time Low

"I won't forget the good times" is just... self explanatory imo. YJ 98 as full of good times and they helped shape the members into who they are (regardless of what DC won't acknowledge)

Holding Out for a Hero by Caleb Hyles

Ok this one is probably self explanatory, but I love this cover cos I just picture the team singing it and replacing Superman in "it's gonna take a Superman to sweep me off my feet" with Wonder Girl and teasing Cassie cos she's the team leader

I'd Rather Be Me by Barrett Wilbert Weed (from Mean Girls the musical)

Yes, I'm a former theatre kid, you're gonna get musical songs. Anyway, "raise your right finger and solemnly swear whatever they say about me I don't care" is a big mood and reminds me of how YJ just did their own thing and tried to be different from their mentors and predecessors

If We Have Each Other by Alec Benjamin

They stick together!!!! "The world's not perfect but it's not that bad. If we got each other and that's all we have, I will be your brother and I'll hold your hand. You should know I'll be there for you" Listen these kids love each other and will stick together through thick and thin

The Kids Aren't Alright by Fall Out Boy

"And in the end, I'd do it all again - I think you're my best friend" is the main reason for this song being in here, though you could argue for "former heroes that quit too late" being poignant. But like... Maybe the world is tough and the kids aren't alright but in the end they'd do it again cos they're friends

Kill Your Heroes by AWOLNATION

I don't know how to explain this one? But the vibes, I guess?

King Of The World by Young Rising Sons

For this song it's the line "We'll rule the world together forever. With hearts of gold, who needs any treasure? We'll take out time just living our lives" and just... yeah. I'm running out of brain power to keep explaining these songs lol

Long Live by Taylor Swift

It's all about remembering the feeling of being at the top of the world and being remembered and being heroes. "Cos for a moment a band of thieves in ripped up jeans got to rule the world" and "One day, we will be remembered" because yeah YJ had it's ups and downs but they were SO important to each other and to the world around them

Louder Than Words by Andrew Garfield, Vanessa Hudgens, and Joshua Henry (from the musical tick, tick... BOOM!)

This song is about things like why do we stay in situations that aren't good for us until push comes to shove and reminds us that we should act before the push. "Cages or wings, which do you prefer? Ask the birds. Fear or love, baby, don't say the answer - actions speak louder than words" reminds me of YJ because they act! The prefer wings! And love!

Man by Relient K

This song reminds me of Kon and all the pressure to be like Superman that he felt before he learned he could be his own person cos like "I'll be every bit the person we already know I'll be" and "I made a mess out of the life that lay ahead of me" and "Wave goodbye as I outgrow the shadow of Peter Pan, it's time to be a man" all remind me of his feelings about who he is

More Than Useless by Relient K

Admittedly, I added this song cos I saw a post comparing it to YJ and I was like ohhhh true true. But it works very well! The kids all have doubts and insecurities, but they reassure each other :) "You promise me that I'll get through this and do something right, do something right for once"

One More Light by Linkin Park

This song is what I think of when I think of all the losses and death that heroes see. Like... "Who cares if one more light goes out? Well, I do." It's SUCH a sad song and it's so moving because there's always someone who cares.

The Reckless And The Brave by All Time Low

I mean, they are reckless and brave, you know. But also the sentiment of "long live us" is good too.

Some Kind of Hero by Felix Hagan & the Family

"Cos if you love me I will dance in the firing line, cackle at the storm each and every time, catch a bullet in my heart - I won't even mind, cos I'm some kind of hero" they really would do this and not even for love! Just because they're heroes!

We Are Golden by MIKA

"Teenage dreams in a teenage circus - running around like a clown on purpose. Who gives a damn about the family you come from? No giving up when you're young and you want some" is the line that gets me because like! They're just teens! And they're like a family to each other! I love them, your honor

Also, these songs aren't on Spotify so I can't add them to the playlist, but definitely check out Best Friend by 5 Seconds of Summer and Forest by Twenty-One Pilots on YouTube! They both add to the vibes.

#young just us #young justice #yj98 #konwontshutup #long post #playlist #spotify #dc comics #playlist might change if i find more songs

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heretherebedork · 3 years ago

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Okay, rather than spam absolutebl with this... I'm gonna write a bit of character analysis on here! @clairificusrex this is in response to your second comment about My Mate Match on the weekly BL summary!

Huh... but they are so unrealistically stupid 😕 like how can you be a professional musician and it not occur to you to spend downtime writing your own music?!? I like Mix, he's sweet but Match feels like he's written as lobotomised... like you're competing for a place in a house but you can't be bothered to be tidy and annoy the person who's choosing the winner? How does that make sense? Lol, I'm unreasonablely annoyed I guess. I'd love a poly show but without idiots 🤣

See, I don't see them as unrealistically stupid! I suppose that's my starting point. I don't think any of them are unrealistically stupid, I just think they're in the strange lifestage of early twenties in unprecedented times and struggling.

Mix not writing his own music... well, I don't think he does write his own music. It seems like he mostly does covers from what Match was saying and it makes sense that he wouldn't instantly think of writing his own songs when that's not what he does. I'd also consider that he's likely suffering from situational depression, considering how all the performers I know reacted to the pandemic and the lack of audience the same way. So many of them talked about not wanting to practice or being able to work up the energy or effort to work on a craft that they had no idea when or even if they'd be able to get back to.

Match is an indecisive little sweetie who never wants to say no to anyone but is trying very, very hard not to just be subsumed into letting everyone walk all over him while also struggling with trying to find an entirely new line of creative work that he really doesn't have any idea what to do with. He's struggling between the friendship he's finding and the choice he has to make.

And Mix's lack of cleaning just... I guess I identify strongly with someone going 'I will definitely clean that up!' only to discover like three days later that you never cleaned it up because thinking about it isn't doing it but feels like it sometimes. I dunno, I just... I get Mix. He feels like a mix (lol) of situational depression and ADHD and that's just so familiar to me it really endears him to me.

I just adore them. I'm really hoping we get some more time with Ryu soon because he falls the flattest so far and I still adore him and his overconfidence.

BUT ANYWAY.

Yeah, I love this show. I went in expecting chaos and idiots and I somehow found myself being absolutely endeared to these boys rather than just amused and annoyed. The end of episode 2 almost destroyed me, it was so soft and so darling and the way Match just hugged Mix and Ryu distracting him to get him to talk and then Match squeezing his hand under the table and i just... ugh, it was so perfect.

#my mate match #thaibl #thaibl meta #bl drama #bl series #asianlgbtqdramas #asian lgbtq dramas #thai bl #thai drama #am i overanalyzing a very simple show #probably #do i care?#nope not in the slightest #hell that's my slogan #i'm here to overanalyze romantic pulps #and this show endeared itself to me

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buzzkillzine · 3 years ago

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Here is a picture.

These are nearly all the handwritten journals I've kept since 2008.

They're all full. Some times I wrote every day, others I'd go a bit between writing sessions. Sometimes it's only few sentences, other times it's pages and pages and pages.

I started writing journals in 2008 on the train to and from Uni in Melbourne. It was a two hour train trip in the morning and two hours home. At the time, my small country town had 3 train services a day: the early one, which left town at 6.45am, a lunchtime one which left at 1.01pm and a night time one which I only ever caught from the Melbourne end at 6.38pm. So yeah. 4 hours of train travel for a sometimes 2 hour class. God forbid a class got cancelled cos I was already on the train by the time the group email got sent out. This happened a few times but that's not what this is about.

In my bag I always had my trusty walk man and CD wallet which held my 30 favourite CDs at any given time. There was a shit load of waiting around and this was pre-smart phone (for my broke arse at least (quick side note here: I originally wrote 'pov c*nt' in here because it was a very highschool thing to call someone but it only dawned on me in later years that it was meant as a general insult most of the time or if you asked for a chip or piece of gum from someone and they'd snap back with that, and not in the intend 'poverty c*nt' which it was short for. Australian high schools were pretty crook. Anyways.)) and a lot if waiting around meant I had heaps of spare time. Between reading Metal Hammer, Kerrang and Total Guitar I got pretty bored. I would also frequent the library and one day stumbled across a book written called Get In The Van by a dude called Henry Rollins. I knew a couple of songs from Rollins Band and had heard of Black Flag but that's about it. I squizzed at the blurb which mentioned something about the book being a collection of Mr Rollins' journal entries from just before he joined Black Flag until he quit and that sounded interesting. So I borrowed it out and then read it the next day on the train. But I didn't just read it... I devoured it. Over the next two weeks of the official library borrowing period, and no doubt a couple of days of it being overdue, I read it cover to cover and then went back and re-read big chunks of it. I loved the idea that it was these little snapshots of what happened that day to one person and how they experienced it. This inspired me to do the same.

So the next day I found an old A5 art diary that was barely used from year 9 art and I started writing in it. Just wrote what was happening around me. Wrote about my train trip that day and what I did in class. It was fun, so much so that I remember writing 'I think I found my new hobby' then got self concious of how cringey that sounded and scribbled over the top of it.

But it was true. I had found my new hobby and for the next two years I used my train trips to journal but it was a tricky process. I had to pick a train seat where there wasn't too many people around becauseI didn't want them to think I was writing about them, even though sometimes I was. When the train carriage got too full I'd have to put my journal back in my bag because I'd get self concious and weird. Most of the time my journal entries were very uneventful because my days were eneventful but even so, it felt good to share it with someone even if that someone was me.

After Uni finished I only wrote occasionally for a while, mainly due to not having time to sit and write but then I was volunteering with the local theatre company and was stuck in a lighting booth by myself for 4 hours a night for a two week period, and the profits of boredom were a journal that went from empty to half full in that time.

While I used it mainly just for writing and documenting my days, I realised I was also documenting my thoughts, feelings and basically tracking my mental health. I realised that the more time I spent writing, the less time I spent spiralling in my own head. Writing stuff down with a pen on paper slowed my brain down enough to write and to form cohesive thoughts, to join ideas together, to properly think through events and problems that were happening, to make me realise that I was trivialising some things while overthinking and blowing other things way out of proportion. I realised that journalling regularly, keeps me grounded and Zen.

Ok, so I want to scribble that line out due to the aforementioned cringe and self consciousness but hopefully you know what I mean.

Anyways, I have a bunch if these journals and I haven't really read back through any of them. I also haven't shown them to anyone else to read. I'm not sure if there's anything in them that I wouldn't want anyone seeing but it still feels weird to have over a decade of my entire mind, written in ink on paper. I don't know if I ever will actually show them to anyone. Would anyone even be interested in what happened on the 14th of April 2015? Is anyone interested in what I'm writing now for that matter?

Who knows. Maybe, maybe not. But I'll keep writing in them regardless. Maybe one day I'll share bits of them on here.

Anyways, whatever.

#journalling #journal #writers on tumblr #writing #stream of conscious writing #memories #mental health

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aries-rising-on-an-aquarius-tide · 3 years ago

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Spoilers: Ghost

Skip to the 8th paragraph if you would like to avoid Bensler/EO content!

Trigger warnings: M/F intercourse, angst

Evocations: XVIII (A)

It isn't love. The idea doesn't even rise to consciousness, for either of them.

In the pre-dawn, Olivia wakes to the feeling of Elliot's erection, rocking lazily against the cleft of her ass. She wonders if he is even awake, or if the action is a lingering marriage habit he's working out in his sleep. But then she feels his arm curl tighter across the span of her shoulders, pulling her snugly into the spoon of their bodies.

He is awake, and Liv consents by reaching down with both hands and spreading herself open so his one free hand can line himself up with her slit. Elliot rocks into her, heavy and full. She can't help but feel relieved that her numbness hadn't snuck back in as they slept. He widens her legs with a hand in order to slide two impossibly thick fingers along the valley where Liv is already wet.

The arm that had been across her chest moves higher, the weight of his hand falls against her throat - not choking, El instinctively knows better - as though trying to feel the moans he knows are gathering there. His strokes are very long and very slow; Olivia wallows in the intensity, building up and up.

Elliot moves aside when her own hand reaches for her clit, letting her set her own pace. They go on this way for what feels like a long time, until he subtly picks up speed. Olivia is teetering on the brink, and then Elliot's thumb pushes between her ass cheeks.

"Oh fuck!" she whines softly and clamps around the hot length of him.

He lets her rock his orgasm out of him, whispering her name in her ear, and they fall asleep together again. But it is not love.

Then once more, in the shower together before they have to go back to work, with fingers squeaking down wall tile and Elliot's hot come splattering her belly. Liv hasn't felt so insatiable since she and Alex had first started dating.

Their fucking is an intervention, against rage and emptiness. It was desperation slipping on skin to wear like its own suit, to finally break out of its pain. There were no love words as they continued to casually sleep together over the next months, no romance. Hardly even conversation - just carnal, animalistic, feverish sex when nothing else seemed to be making any sense.

Then, in February, Alex came back.

In February, there was too much to feel . . . and not enough time.

Olivia's body had moved instinctively towards Alexandra's at the sound of her voice as though they'd been tethered to one another all along. The look that she had fixed on the blonde in the next beat tried to carry so many things that it buckled under the weight, and Liv could only glance shyly from under her lashes like a child at their teacher crush.

Things following Connors' arraignment moved quickly, and Alex was never out of arms reach of DEA protection - until the night before the trial, when her protection was finally turned over to Elliot and Olivia.

Liv had purposely asked Elliot to take the first shift. She took that time to pace her apartment with her heart hammering at her throat, wondering what to say to Alex, and how to say it. How could a year hold so much, and yet nothing at all? Was she really prepared to hear the answers to any of her questions?

It was beyond naïve to assume they would just fall back into each others' arms, but Olivia couldn't imagine another outcome, try as she might. Then she was standing outside Alex's hotel room door, with no more time or distance left between them.

"You wanna keep playing?" Her only instinct is to give Alex whatever she wants, so Liv starts with what was obvious, glad at the idea of a distraction between them.

But Alex refuses. More than that, she turns away from all of Olivia's soft shades of brown, toward the hotel room windows. A tremble of fear shivers across Liv's skin when she does, because all at once she can feel the weight of the 16 months between them.

They have changed - both of them. It's more than just Liv's hair growing long, or Alexandra without bangs covering her forehead. It is grief, and loneliness, and the necessity of becoming placeholder selves on the gameboard of their lives. Beneath all that, nevertheless, ran the desire and comfort and safety of loving each other.

"I wish these windows opened; I wanna smell the city."

Liv wrinkles her nose in amusement. "You mean the rotting garbage and the diesel exhaust?"

Alex's eyes are far away. "Wisconsin is so quiet at night," she murmurs.

The brunette's heart lurches at the thought of how close Alex had been all the time - and yet how far.

"Sometimes when I get homesick, I hum the Mister Softee song."

"You making any friends?" It is as close as Olivia will come to asking the question she dreads the most.

"There's a claims adjuster at the insurance agency where I work. And we've been seeing each other. He's a good man. He thinks I'm from Tulsa." Each sentence is clipped and matter-of-fact, as though Alex is waiting for Liv to throw herself at her in a fit of rage.

"And when we're in bed together at night, he whispers my name: Emily."

So there it is: Olivia has the whole story in a matter of sentences. Alex has lived in Wisconsin for a year, selling insurance and dating a man who whispers the wrong name when he sleeps with the woman who was supposed to be her wife.

Stubbornly, Liv knows that isn't the full truth, even as anxiety sets her body running hot and cold. They had both sought solace in other people - other men, in some strange attempt to lessen the blow - both had been touched by someone else. There would be no fighting about it, or anger; self-preservation is blameless, after all.

"It's hard to be someone that you're not," Olivia tells her, her voice full with tears, with guilt, with jealousy, with forgiveness. She stands up and walks away, back to her bag where she'd brought something more important than even her desperation to get back their life together.

" - I don't even know what makes him tick!" Alex finished shouting as Olivia dug into the bag.

Clutching the file that she hoped would save Alexandra's life, she crossed and handed it to her. "You didn't see this file," she murmured.

Wide-eyed, Alex looks from the file to Olivia, who can't imagine that the blonde could've thought she would have left her swinging in the wind. Swiping a file from Novak was, in the moment, the utter least of what Liv would do for Alex.

Liv keeps her gaze on the blonde until she settles on the sofa with the file, reading silently. All of Olivia's questions - about Sky, Wisconsin, the claims adjuster, about love, or the future . . . they crowd up against the inside of her tightly closed lips, where they remain unasked. Instead, she returns to the window and gazes up at the hazy, overcast sky atop the city where the neon lights from below reflect.

She thinks about what a frozen, lonely Winter in Wisconsin must feel like.

Olivia waits.

#law and order svu #svu #olivia benson #alex cabot #alexandra cabot #cabenson #elliot stabler #bensler #eo #evocations #hearteyes4mariska #my writing #my fanfiction #fanfic series #angst #smut #first return #multiship

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eryiss · 3 years ago

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Ship: Freed x Laxus [Fraxus]

Rating: Teen

Alternate Links: Fanfiction, Archive of our Own

Request: Something based off the official Rockband Raijinshuu art.

Summary: Being a rockstar, Laxus had to endure far too many chat shows. Usually he would grin and bear it, let the pointlessness of it roll off his back, but not this time. He was alone, forced to keep his budding relationship with Freed secret, and done with it. Fucking done with it all! But he had a way to fix it, and all it would take was a little courage.

Notes: This was a request by @fuckyeahfraxus. Just a warning, it has a bit of homophobia near the end, but nothing too vicious. I hope you enjoy it.

The Life Of A Song

Fuck chat shows. Fuck their hosts. Fuck their producers. Fuck their directors. Fuck their too-hot lighting, their stupid uncomfortable sofas, their tiny changing room's, their cramped green rooms with too many camera, their always cheering audiences and their utter lack of anything interesting or unique. Fuck the whole damn thing.

But Laxus' opinions on the matter weren't important. What did matter was that he smiled, laughed, told anecdotes and sat in a way that showed off his thighs and crotch just enough so that his Twitter stans - what a shitty word - made him trend once it was over.

Still, fuck chat shows.

This particular show, Late With Jase, was one of the worst. The host was young, overly enthusiastic, and his name was Jason rather than Jase which pissed Laxus off more than it should. He'd somehow dragged an audience of Netflix only watchers back to mainstream, with a mix of meme crap that Laxus cringed at, and celebrity gossip that would make a tabloid envious. But the ratings were skyrocketing, celebrities who went there usually got a boost in sales of their latest projects, and Laxus' manager had insisted he take his turn.

It would have been fine, were he not alone. If Ever, Bix and Freed were with him, they could take the responsibility and he could fade into the background. They had been a band for years, and that was how they always dealt with interviews. But they weren't there, because according to their management, Laxus was the moneymaker and all they needed.

"So Laxus," Jason turned in his chair to look at him. "Let's talk about Thunderstruck. What a success that's been? You must be thrilled.”

"It's doing well, yeah," Laxus nodded. He wanted to cringe at his words.

"It's doing more than well. You can hardly escape it," Jason laughed, and the crowd laughed with him. Laxus chuckled, even though he didn't find it funny. "But this is the first song that you've written, isn't it? And it's one of the most popular you've had. Must feel good."

"Well, it wasn't just me," Laxus swallowed slightly. "Everything we make is collaborative. Freed worked with the lyrics a lot, and Ever composed it."

"They're your bass player and electric guitar player, right?"

"I wouldn't call them mine," Laxus mumbled slightly.

There was a beat of awkward silence, and Laxus relished it just a little. Jason recovered quickly, which was annoying, and flashed a happy smile. Laxus would have preferred the man to stew in the uncomfortable silence, it would be a fitting response to him being dismissive of the band's contributions, but perhaps it was a childish way to think of things.

"Well we'll be hearing the song live at the end of the show," Jason continued, and Laxus' eyebrow twitched. The rest of the band were in the damn building and yet were being treated like shit. "But let's talk a bit about how you came to write it. Heavy rock and love songs have a troubled history, and you managed to make a hit out of it."

"Just lucky I guess," He shrugged. "Got good people around me too."

"Don't be so modest," Jason dismissed. Laxus wasn't being modest; luck was the dominant factor in successful music and without the band, Laxus would be fucked. "So, take us back. Where did the idea start."

"Well, hard to pinpoint I guess," Laxus murmured. "But, I suppose it was at the end of our last tour."

——

Performing live was indescribable. It was an assault on all his senses, in the very best way.

Everything was exhilarating. The feeling of vibrations on the stage, the cheers, roars and singing from the crowd, the sweat running down his back, the roar of his voice cutting through his throat as he sang. It all flowed through him, removing any sense of doubt or self consciousness he might have. On stage, before a stadium of fans, he was Laxus Fucking Dreyar. King, God and Dragon. Nothing was better.

They were on their last song of the set, a roaring anthem that the crowd could sing along to. It was thrilling to hear a song he'd worked on sung by thousands. Freed's words were being screamed at them, with the passion and love of their fan base. It was indescribable.

"We are The Thunder God's Tribe," Laxus yelled into the microphone as the instrumental began. The crowd roared in response.

Freed, Ever and Bix held the crowd's attention, and Laxus looked over the gathered mass of thousands. They were all there for them, because they loved them and wanted to experience them in person. A loud roar of appreciation cut through the stadium as Bickslow finished a drum solo that always brought the house down. How he managed to do that night after night while never screwing it up was beyond Laxus, but it was incredible.

Laxus sang the final verse, putting his whole heart into the performance. It was the last show of the tour, the last time they'd sing in front of a crowd like this for two years. He loved songwriting, but this was the best part of his work. The crowd, the music, the experience.

God he would miss this. This high. This buzz.

The lights died around them as the song ended, plunging them into darkness as the crowd roared their appreciation. The four of them could still see their fans as they cheered and yelled, and they took a few moments to appreciate it. He would miss this.

As they were taken from the stage, the adrenaline didn't waver. Laxus could run a marathon, deadlift any weight, swim any ocean in those moments. It was pure euphoria.

Evergreen trailed off to her dressing room first, scraping her nails down her bodyguard's chest before dragging him in with her. They were no longer pretending they were simply platonic anymore; Bickslow walking in on them must have removed any hope they could keep their relationship a secret. Good for them; Ever worked hard and deserved a big man to fill her bed.

Bix's groupies appeared out of nowhere, two men and a woman. They clung to the drummers bare chest instantly, and he cackled as he was dragged away for a night of depravity and booze. Laxus grinned; the party boy really had hit his stride this year.

Glancing at Freed, he saw the man looking equally amused.

A shared moment of eye contact sent a pulse of heat through Laxus. They stared at one another for a moment, and Laxus found his eyes crawling over Freed's shirtless torso without shame before he could stop it. Hard muscle and flexing abs were fully shown, and the heat in Laxus' face settled down lower. The rush of the performance was still running through him and he knew he wasn't in his right mind, but dammit Freed looked fucking hot in that moment. Tousled, sweating, shirtless; who could fucking resist that?

Laxus had always known Freed was hot. They spent hours upon hours together, it couldn't be missed. But he'd never thought too hard about it. You didn't fuck your badnmates. You didn't fuck your male bandmate.

And if he weren't coursing with adrenaline and dunk off of the cheers, he might have stopped.

With a stride, he surged forward and wrapped a hand around the back of Freed's neck. He pulled the man against him, pressing their lips together in a passionate, needy, energetic kiss. Freed dragged him back, pushing himself against the wall and taking Laxus with him. Hands were roaming over his chest, and Laxus groaned as they slid lower.

"Wait," Laxus whispered, pulling apart. A string of spit hung between them, and Laxus felt a twisted form of delight at it.

"What?" Freed asked, and his husky voice ran down Laxus' spine.

"We better take it inside," Laxus murmured, and Freed grinned.

They snuck into the nearest changing room, locking the door behind them. It was only in the next morning, when Laxus' mind was focused on something other than mindless, unadulterated pleasure, that he began writing a song. That he felt the need to write in a way that he'd never felt before.

Because kissing Freed was music. A high unmatched by anything else, and one that Laxus would find himself addicted to.

——

"And how did it come about?" Jason probed. "You've never written before. Did you find your muse?"

He had. But Jason didn't get to know it. Not that their manager would let it happen.

"Well, you know how bands work. You tour, make an album, then tour with the album," Laxus shrugged, reaching for his glass of water. "Your mind goes into production mode, I guess. You see things a little different, put a little creative spin on the things happening around you. Something struck me and I started writing," He laughed, awkward. "Not that interesting, really."

Not the fake story he'd been told to say, anyway.

The audience didn't seem to care about how crap the anecdote actually was, and applauded his words for some reason. Jason forced out a laugh, as if his statement had been a self-deprecating joke rather than a simple fact. What he'd been told to say wasn't interesting.

"Well, maybe you weren't struck by some divine intervention, but whatever happened it certainly worked out well," Jason continued, and the small screen beside him showed the album cover. Laxus hated the cover, it was just him. Not the four of them. It should be the four of them, or none of them at all. "It shot to the top of the charts and seems like it'll be there for a long time. That must feel good."

"It's incredible," Laxus agreed, and it was.

"So talk us through the writing process," Jason promoted, grinning. "I can't imagine you hunched over a desk night after night?"

"Well, the first draft only took a couple hours, really," Laxus confessed, blushing a little. The lights would cover it, but it was still embarrassing. "But me and Freed spent a couple nights together, and it became what you've been hearing."

——

"You always this tried?" Laxus chuckled, placing a takeout cup of coffee beside Freed.

The bassist blinked slowly up at Laxus, removing his face from its resting place against his arm. He glanced towards the coffee he'd been given with a thankful smile. Laxus smiled a little as Freed sat up straight, running a hand through his loose hair and letting it flow over his shoulders. He had bags under his eyes and a yawn split open his lips.

Laxus found himself slightly transfixed by the sight of Freed picking up the coffee, bringing it to his lips and drinking it in large gulps. His throat bobbed, pale skin stretching and chords tightening.

"Better to be tired that not focused," Freed smirked a little as he placed his coffee down.

"I think me looking at you is exactly the kinds focus we need," He grinned, and Freed chuckled.

The two of them were writing alone. After a fair amount of hesitation, Laxus had shown Freed the draft lyrics he'd written, and Freed had instantly presented ideas on how to fine tune it. He hadn't been patronising - nor had he teased Laxus about the fact he'd written a damn love song about him - and instead decided to encourage and help him make it a hit. They'd spent three subsequent nights in their studio, completely alone, and Laxus was loving it.

He'd never written a song before. Words weren't his forte, at least not the writing of them, and he much preferred to show passion through performance. But hours of Freed and him in the studio, bouncing ideas off each other, was thrilling.

Laxus suspected any time alone with Freed would be thrilling now.

Walking behind Freed to get to his own seat, Laxus leant down and pressed a soft kiss atop his head. Freed made a small sound and leant back against his chair to get closer to Laxus. He chuckled, ruffling Freed's hair slightly as he sat beside him.

"You made any progress?" Laxus asked, stretching slightly. He didn't miss Freed's eyes roaming over his chest. "What were you saying about being distracted."

"Until you wear looser fitting clothes, you don't get to talk about me being distracted," Freed smirked.

"Maybe I'd agree to that if I didn't know how uncomfortable those jeans you're wearing are," Laxus smirked. "Flatters the ass but crushes the balls, right? Regretting it yet?"

Freed didn't answer, but blushed a little and Laxus cackled.

They quickly fell into step, working on the song again. They were focusing on the second verse, which Laxus had dubbed the catalyst chapter. It had initially been a torrent of ways to describe how explosive his kiss with Freed had been - though names were vague enough for nobody to know that. With Freed's help, it had turned into a well written lyrical explanation to the first flushes of a romance. The burning passion, the fire between the two people, the erotic rush that could ignite from a simple glance. Watching Freed write, Laxus had to hope he was writing about his own feelings for Laxus.

He also had to stop himself from jumping the man, because Freed knew how to write a hot song. A really hot song…

Taking his espresso and gulping it down, Laxus looked away from his lover. Perhaps if Freed were anyone else - if he weren't a guy, or if he weren't in the band - Laxus might have given in and kissed him. He wanted to, but couldn't,

Once they'd been signed, te band had been given a long speech about how you couldn't screw your bandmate by their manager, how it could ruin things and screw up the dynamic. When Laxus had discovered he was bi, and wanted to come out as such, multiple crisis meetings were held. Not only had Laxus not been allowed to speak about his sexuality, with the risk of his contract being terminated immediate held over him, but he'd also been forced to stage pictures with a woman so he looked to be dating.

There had been backlash even then. His fans were vicious to the poor model, many seemed angry at him for supposedly betraying them by dating someone, it was fucking insane, and Laxus hadn't known hot to take it, but it had scared him off relationships for years.

So, he couldn't date. Definitely couldn't date bandmates. Certainly couldn't date men.

And knowing that, he'd still come back to Freed. Slept with him after their tour, then in the hotel later that night, they'd even fumbled about in the tour bus to the airport when everyone else was sleeping. They'd been in dates - or as close to dates two famous men could get - and a week prior had sat down and talked. They didn't care about the rules, because their budding romance was too damn good.

Never let it be said Laxus kept things comfortable for himself.

"Stop that," Freed scolded.

"Stop what?" Laxus asked, looking from the song and towards Freed.

"Torturing yourself," Freed explained, taking Laxus' hand and stroking it. "It'll do you know good. Certainly not when we're trying trying to write a ballad about the two of us."

"Sorry," Laxus hunched.

"Don't be, I think about it too," Freed admitted, leaning towards Laxus and against him. "But drowning in what ifs and self doubt is hardly going to make things better. We might as well enjoy what we have while it's still between the two of us, and deal with the fallout should it present itself.”

"You're right," Laxus nodded, blinking himself back into focus. "Not sure I can write tonight, though. Not in the mood."

"You don't want to write sonnets about how much you want me? Should I be offended?" Freed smirked, and Laxus laughed. "Or perhaps should I see it as a challenge to refocus your attention."

A hand ran down Laxus' inner thigh, and his breath hitched slightly. "Really?"

"Well, the song needs to be finished eventually," Freed hummed a little. "The sooner the better, I'd say. So getting your mind back on me seems the only thing that makes sense,"

"Really," Laxus tried to make his voice sound seductive, but Freed's wandering hand made him crack slightly. "H-how d'you think you'd do that."

"Well, let's say that in five minutes you find yourself in the instrument store down the hall," Freed mused aloud. "And let's say you find me already there, and I happen to be kneeling there waiting for you. Well, we can hardly be blamed if we find ourselves distracted."

Laxus swallowed. "Here? You sure?”

"There's no one around," Freed shrugged far too nonchalantly, and then grinned a devilishly handsome grin. "And I must admit, making you come undone in here has been a fantasy of mine," His hand squeezed Laxus thigh, before he stood up, and all flirtation was gone. "I should find a guitar, we can hardly write without practice. Perhaps I'll see you in there."

And then he was gone, walking away with his ass hugged perfectly in his jeans. All doubts about his future with Freed disappeared, replaced by the uncomfortable tightness in his boxers.

He found himself grinning, and a few minutes later he found himself in the instrument room, panting and moaning.

——

"It was pretty normal," Laxus continued, not looking to Jason. "We wrote, we practiced, we rewrote."

"Keeping your secrets close to your chest, I see," Jason laughed. "Now, speaking of secrets, the rumours have been flying on Twitter about who this is written about."

"I hadn't heard about that," Laxus tried to dismiss the statement.

"I'm sure you haven't," Jason nodded almost patronisingly, clearly not believing him. It was fair, Laxus supposed. #WhoIsThunderstruck did trend for a week. "But you have to admit, a virgin songwriter making something so powerful on their first try, and in a song so distant from anything else you've ever made, does seem to suggest maybe you've found someone to inspire you."

"I'm around a lot of talented people," Laxus shrugged. "They know how to make a hit."

He was squirming now, and not because of Jason. Their manager was seating in the front row of the live audience, and a quick glance his way showed Laxus a glare. This was a topic he had to avoid, because his fans needed to think the song was about them. It was patronising, Laxus thought, but they'd found success with their manager for a reason.

"So," Jason continued. "Have you found yourself a special lady?"

And then something ridiculous happened. Laxus found himself furious.

Such a simple statement, so innocuous and normal for Laxus' life, had opened the floodgates for Laxus. Because why had he assumed it would be a woman? Why had he assumed he could ask a question like that? Why was Laxus in a position where he couldn't answer something so simple when he really fucking wanted to?

Every ridiculous injustice seemed to swarm over him at once. How was it fair he had to parade himself on shows like this, on his own despite how his band deserved as much love and respect as he did? How was it fair that he'd known he wanted to be with a man for five years, and he'd never allowed himself to indulge before Freed? How was it fair that he'd been forced to endure meeting after meeting about how 'stupid' he was being for hooking up with Freed? How was it fair that he couldn't go out for a fucking pizza with his boyfriend without starting a ridiculous internet scandal? It was all so bullshit.

"Nah," Laxus answered, leaning back in his chair. The anger gave way to confidence; every interview he'd been on edge, but not any more. "Not a girl."

"So nobody's tamed the dragon slayer then?"

"Not a girl," Laxus repeated. "A guy. I'm bi, and for the last couple months I've been dating Freed," There was silence, and Laxus grinned and turned to Jason. "Bet you wished you'd gotten him on stage with me now, huh?"

"You're…" Jason seemed at a loss for words.

"Screwing the bassist, yeah," Laxus laughed, exhilaration flooding through him. "Inevitable really. I've known I liked guys for five years, and there's a load of fan pages who talk about how hot Freed is, so it was bound to happen," He grinned, running a hand through his hair.

This felt so good. Fuck, he didn't know how much he needed to do this.

"So," Jason tried to recover. "Well, erm, we have r to go to break now. Maybe we'll talk about that when we get back, I really don't know."

The moment the cameras cut, people began approaching Laxus. His manager, his PR team, and most importantly, his band. Ever and Bix attempted to run interference on their management team, but the angry man and his cronies pushed through them with fury on their faces. Still, Freed met him first, and wordlessly grabbed Laxus by the collar and brought their lips together. It was more passionate and desperate than any of their kisses had been.

"I'm so proud of you," Freed whispered. "And we are definitely talking about how you know those fan sites exist."

"Who d'you think made 'em," Laxus grinned, and Freed laughed.

Their small, shared moment ended when a throaty cough cut through them. Their manager was looming over them, and Laxus met them with a cruel grin, knowing it was too late: that was the problem with live TV.

"Problem?" He asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"What the hell were you thinking?" The manager snarled. "You just fucked all of us, do you understand that? How fucking selfish are you. You've ruined this album, you know that? You think your bandmates will forgive you?"

"Nothing to forgive," Bix said immediately.

"You're a dick for not letting him do it before," Evergreen agreed.

Their manager seemed to flounder for a moment, before narrowing his glare at Laxus again. "Do you think your fans will want to see that?" He growled again, voice getting louder now. "You think they'll still want you now they know that. Now they have to think about you being with… with him!" He motioned to Freed disparagingly. "They'll leave you. You've fucked yourselves, you know that."

Silence filled the soundstage, and their manager seethed. Laxus grinned, then looked past him towards the audience, half of whom had their phones pointed towards them.

"Since you're always talking about PR," Laxus smirked. "How d'you think you'll look once this hits Twitter?"

Their manager halted, then slowly turned. He turned sheet white, and it was brilliant.

"Oh, and in case you're worrying about your little threat to drop us if I came out, don't," Laxus smirked, though looked up to his band, who all nodded. "Yer fired, so fuck off."

#Fraxus #Freed Justine #laxus dreyar #freed x laxus #Fairy Tail #Fanfic #Writing #Request #One Shot #fuckyeahfraxus #Word Count 3.8k

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astorytotellyourfriends · 3 years ago

Note

M and Q, please? 👀

M: already answered!

Q: Do you have any discarded scenes/storylines/projects?

i do have a folder in my google drive labeled "abandoned" but there are only 2 docs in the jatp subfolder, and both of them are previous drafts of fics i've posted! (the 1d folder is a whole other story...)

i'm very much the type of writer who edits as i go so i don't normally cut out scenes unless they just aren't working. even then, i'll usually copy/paste them into that story's plot doc and save them just in case i end up needing it later. the only one that currently comes to mind is a section i cut out of chapter five of a mouth that i would kill to kiss because it wasn't flowing the way i wanted it to. @where-you-go will probably yell at me if i dangle this without posting it, so there's about a thousand words under the cut lol

Luke hasn't written a thing in over a year. Not one note, lyric, or anything even resembling a song since before the band went on hiatus. It was strange at first, because he's always been the one to constantly scribble down ideas for songs all day, every day. The pages of his song notebooks were covered in all sorts of notes in his chicken scratch handwriting. He's got dozens of notes on his phone that have half-finished lyrics, or voice notes that are comprised of him humming half a melody that came to him in the middle of the night.

Writing felt like a part of him, ingrained in his soul. Music is what he loves and he made it his whole life. But when he cut Bobby out of his life, he lost that side of himself. He didn't want to write anymore. He'd spent years writing songs about Bobby, even if he never admitted it aloud.

It's been almost five months since Bobby showed up on his doorstep and while things are better between them, Luke still doesn't know how to feel about Bobby most days. They text a little more often now than they did at the start of all of this, and they've seen each other a handful of times since the twins' birthday party.

But never alone. There's always at least one other person around, and Luke prefers it that way. Ever since Bobby told Luke he was in therapy, Luke's felt conflicted. On the one hand, he's glad that Bobby is finally taking steps to better himself. But on the other, he can't help but worry if it's all just some ploy to get him back.

Luke still doesn't know what he wants from Bobby, or if he even wants anything at all. Five months isn't enough time to undo twenty years of damage, no matter how often Bobby's seeing his therapist. But even Luke can't deny that the feelings he fought so hard to destroy are slowly creeping back into him.

He's missed Bobby. He'd spent the last year so angry at Bobby that he'd forgotten what it's like to just be around him. It almost feels like the old days, back before anything happened between them. Luke tries not to let himself get caught up in nostalgia, but sometimes he just can't help it. Even with all the shit they've been through, he still considers Bobby one of his best friends.

And slowly, Luke starts to write again. It's nothing like what he used to be capable of, and that's okay. He doesn't need to spend all day and all night writing songs anymore. The band's still on break and everything is fine. Luke doesn't even know if anything he's written lately would even make it onto a new Sunset Curve record, if that's something they'd even want to do again.

Things are different now. Everything is different. Luke's just trying to adjust to the new normal in the only way he can: one step at a time.

So he lets himself write when he wants to write, and doesn't force himself. He doesn't make himself feel guilty on days when he's not inspired. There's no pressure on him to write a full song. He could write a dozen half-formed songs and it would be totally fine, because at least he wrote them.

Luke tries not to think about Bobby when he's writing. He spent so many years writing song after song about Bobby that it feels weird not to think about him, but Luke keeps reminding himself that he's trying something new. His therapist was right: he still needs to figure out who he is without his attachment to Bobby. It's sort of funny how he went from not thinking about Bobby at all over the course of a year to thinking about him almost as often as he used to.

At least he doesn't feel that same mania he once did. The sort of magnetic pull to Bobby where if he wasn't the center of Bobby's attention at all times, it felt like he might wither away and die. It wasn't healthy then, and at least now Luke knows better. He had to learn to be okay with himself first, to be comfortable enough in his own skin without needing validation from anyone else.

In a strange way, Luke felt that cutting Bobby off was one of the best things that ever happened to him. Up until that point, he'd still been fooling himself into thinking that they could be together. Before that, he'd thought that all he had to do was get sober, and then Bobby would want him again. When that didn't work, Luke just concentrated on trying to remind Bobby of the good times they'd had together, even if Bobby wasn't willing to reminisce.

Maybe what Luke needed all along was just to accept that he and Bobby weren't as meant to be as he thought they were.

The distance between us, it sharpens me like a knife

Luke sighs softly as he reads back the few lines he's written, his eyes going further up the page to reread one in particular: I took too many hits off this memory, I need to come down.

He sighs sharply and tucks his pen into the notebook, shutting the cover before he sets it aside. Thoughts of Bobby had wormed their way into his mind, even when he was trying so hard not to think about him.

Maybe, Luke thinks, shutting him out is the wrong thing to do. He spent a year not speaking to Bobby and he couldn't manage to write anything in that time. Now that he's writing again, maybe it's because he's let Bobby back into his life. As much as he wants to tell himself that he's fine without Bobby, that he's better off without him, maybe it's not that simple.

But Luke still can't come to terms with giving Bobby another shot. Or rather, a real shot. They've never had anything close to a real relationship because everything they did was always kept a secret. It was hard enough going through the ups and downs all on his own, Luke can't even imagine what would happen if he had his heart broken again, only this time in the public eye.

#answered #Anonymous #thank youuuu

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one-boring-person · 4 years ago

Text

What Kind Of A World Are We Living In?

The Lost Boys x The Walking Dead Crossover

Warnings: blood imagery, death, some very vague TWD spoilers, bad language

Context: So @browneyes528 , @lostbetweenvampiresandmusic and I kinda came up with an idea for a crossover between these fandoms, and it basically entails David meeting Negan for the first time.

A/N: This is my first time writing Negan, so I hope it's not too bad! I enjoyed writing this; it's quite fun to combine the things I enjoy 😂😅💛

Masterlist.

Originally, David had made it clear that he wanted no part in joining any groups they came across on their travels, impressing this on the boys on multiple occasions, especially when "food" was scarce. Even before he'd turned, he'd never been a particularly social person, so the outbreak of "biters" as one group they'd encountered had called them was perfect for his naturally guarded personality, as it meant he never had to interact with people he didn't like as much as he used to, back in Santa Carla in the good old days. Only one problem came with the outbreak: the amount of available people to feed on was slowly decreasing, and the biters do not taste nearly as good.

However, this changed when he came across a rather interesting character, whose name he had yet to figure out, whilst on a hunt, the others having spread out through the area to find possible sources of blood. For once, David was walking through the dense forest rather than flying over it, avoiding the biters wherever possible, easily decapitating those that stumbled too close to him with the machete he "borrowed" from a previous victim, though in theory there was no need to do so, seeing as they didn't seem to care about the taste of vampire flesh, and their bites wouldn't do anything to them anyway. He'd started to give up hope of finding any source of life, until he picked up the sounds of voices a little way off, interest spiking as he headed off in that direction, hunger growing as the familiar scent of fresh blood reached him, the smell clearly emanating from a large area ahead of him. Following with more vigour, he soon came across the odd gathering of people; a semi-circle of sorts was formed around an old RV, a number of them kneeling on the floor in front of a horde of armed soldier-type men and women. Vehicles surrounded them, a collection of armoured trucks and pickups, as well as a couple of motorbikes (which he greatly envied, seeing as he and the boys had had to leave theirs back in Santa Carla for lighter travel) solidifying the would-be intimidating group into an almost impenetrable wall. Normally, he'd signal for the other boys to join him, there being too many for him to finish off alone, but something stopped him in his tracks. Or rather, someone.

A tall man went to the RV, having said something relevant to the kneeling people, opening the door to reveal another man, who stepped into the light with a large grin on his face. Instantly, David's focus was on the newcomer, eyebrow raising at his choice of attire - a black leather jacket, red scarf and dark jeans, though what really caught his eye was the baseball bat, which was wrapped in barbed wire, a deadly weapon he wished he could see in action. Despite the circumstances (it being an apocalypse and all), the newcomer was clean and undirtied, as if he had somewhere to return to where he could shower and change into clean clothes, and his entire attitude around the gathered people only proved to David that this man was the leader.

His eyes remained fixed on him, taking in the laid-back, yet clearly authoritative stance and movements, not listening to what was being said until the familiar sound of an old song floated up to him from the leader, each line punctuated by a point of the bat at a kneeling person, all of whom appeared terrified.

"Eeny, meeny, miny, mo, catch a tiger by his toe..."

The black-clad leader's voice was taunting, his fingers visibly clenching around the handle of the bat as he came to a halt in front of a thick-set ginger guy, who stared up the length of the weapon with a confidence only bred in the military.

David could only watch with grudging appreciation as the leader then proceeded to beat the hell out of the guy's head, spreading the ginger man's brains all over the dusty tarmac with a brutal finality.

It only took the sight of this to change David's mind about joining a group, his mind made up as he watched the leader tease and taunt the rest of the group, nearly rising in anger when a dishevelled brunette sprung forward to punch him in the jaw, smirking to himself when another guy had his head smashed to pieces in retaliation. This guy knew how to demonstrate his ultimate dominance over his people.

Unfortunately, he had to wait another few weeks or so until he got the chance to meet this guy again, at which point he'd already informed the others of this new group he had found, eager to figure out what this guy's reaction would be to finding a coven of vampires asking to ally with him. To say the boys had been surprised was an understatement; Paul nearly fell from the roof they were perched on, Dwayne only just managing to pull him back up again, Marko staring, wide-eyed, at his leader. Unsurprisingly, they had all wanted to see this guy for themselves, not quite believing that a human could be as brutal and remorseless as David made him out to be, thus starting a search for the base of these people, though it was mostly unsuccessful, until one summer night.

The four of them hovered over the decrepit motorway below, eyes searching for any signs of movements, each of them as bored as the others, having had less luck finding food in the last few weeks, seeing as everyone seemed to be letting themselves die in ways that meant they would become a biter, which was not helpful at all. By now, they'd been out for a good four hours, their hunger levels through the roof - they'd only found a group of two loners the day before, meaning that they hadn't eaten nearly enough to satisfy them. At his point, Marko and Paul decided they needed to start acting dramatic, theatrically dropping from the sky every now and then, only to catch themselves after a few metres, complaining about how tired and hungry they were the entire time, neither of them letting up, even when Dwayne threatened to stake them both. They were whinging so much they never noticed the little band of people on the motorway below them, the tiny group having just emerged from the trees lining the side of the road, until David pointed them out, licking his lips in anticipation, his vampiric features contorting his face as he led the dive down.

Whooping in triumph and relief, the four of them descended on the group of five, each of them claiming a victim right off the bat, tearing into their chosen person with a vigour born of deep-rooted hunger, blood erupting in macabre fountains from the newly made wounds. The rich fluid coated their chins and fangs, staining their already filthy clothes further as the screaming people writhe and struggle in their respective grips, each one gradually dying in full view of the fifth, who had yet to race off in the other direction, which would've been the smart thing to do. As it happened, the horrified girl never stood a chance, swiftly being taken out by David as he took his fill from her, passing her barely alive body on to an eagerly waiting Paul, who was only to happy to sink his fangs into her skin, tearing her throat out with a grim efficiency.

In their feeding frenzy, none of them had noticed the envoy of vehicles slowly approaching from the north, a familiar RV amongst them, until the beaming headlights were focused on them, drawing the vampires' attention. Dropping the corpses, each vampire moved to stand beside David, who stuck his gloved hands in his pockets and watched the cars approach, smirking at the realisation of who it is, glad that their first encounter involved him covered in fresh blood from a victim he just spent a few enjoyable minutes tearing to pieces, knowing that his appearance must be horrifying. Beside him, the others stood their ground, Marko moving to bite at his thumb, only to swiftly think better of it, hooking it in the belt loops of his jeans instead. Ahead of them, each vehicle came to a halt, a group of armed people stepping forward with rifles and shotguns aimed at them, a sight which brought a slight grin to David's lips, the door to the RV opening to reveal the guy from before, a somewhat confused yet confident expression on his face.

"It's nearly two in the morning and I have to sort out a bunch of cannibals on the road? What kinda world are we living in?!" The leader joked with one of his cronies, eyeing the motley group of blood stained boys with no trepidation at all.

"A dying one, I reckon." David called out to him in way of response, their eyes locking, almost as if challenging each other.

"Well, then I guess it all depends on who you ask, don't it?" A wide grin appeared on the guy's face as he looked David over, clearly impressed by what he saw, "Damn, you are creepy as shit! You look totally badass!"

David's eyes narrowed a bit at his words, suspicious of the guy's odd compliments.

"If that's what you think, then sure." He responded, choosing his words carefully.

"What I think? Hell, no, that's not what I think. It's what I know." He confirmed, leaning back on his heels, his bat resting over one shoulder, "I'm Negan."

"David."

"David? Your name is David? I'm gonna have to figure out something better than that, something more badass."

For once, David chose not to let his offense at the statement determine how he acted, instead remaining in place with a neutral expression.

"If you must." He bit out, deciding to get straight to the point, "We've been looking for you."

Surprise seemed to cross Negan's face at this confession, eyebrows momentarily drawing together in confusion.

"You've been looking for me? Why in the hell would you do that?"

"I saw you beat two people's heads in a few weeks back, and you left a good impression on me. I thought you might like the help of four vampires in your group, who have no qualms about killing anyone." David informed him, nearly rolling his eyes at the disbelieving look on their faces.

"I left a good impression on someone like you because I beat the shit outta two people? Damn, you are messed up, I'll give you that." Negan smirked, pointing at David with his bat, "But I cannot give you the vampire bullshit. Who in the hell still believes in them?"

"People with sense." He grinned in reply, his features changing into their vampiric forms, lips peeling back to reveal his razor sharp fangs.

For a long moment, everyone is silent, Negan's eyes fixed on David's face, clearly taken aback by the turn of events, though the smile is quick to return.

"I owe you damn apology, David, that is terrifying. Like real, pant-pissing, shitting-yourself terrifying." He complimented again, seemingly considering something, "You still up for helping me out? Because I have a job that I think will suit you guys just fine."

"Sure thing, as long as the price is decent."

Negan stepped forwards, bat back on his shoulder, a conspiratorial smirk on his lips.

"There's a certain group of people who need the shit scaring outta them. Their leader is a prick named Rick, or Rick the Prick as I call him, and he needs an attitude adjustment."

#the lost boys #joel schumacher #vampire #david(thelostboys)#kiefer sutherland #paul(the lost boys)#dwayne(the lost boys)#marko(the lost boys)#the walking dead #Megan #negan fic #crossover #Rick Grimes #Daryl Dixon

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