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huttons · 4 years ago

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if you’re in love, you’re a lucky one || nathan mackinnon

word count: 20.7k

summary: Rory is just trying to find her place in Denver after landing her dream job after university. As she slowly finds friends and starts to feel comfortable with the choices she made, she meets none other than Nathan Mackinnon. They hit it off fast, but not everything turns out like a dream.

author’s note: This was written as part of @hockeynetwork‘s winter fic exchange for @broadstbroskis! I’m sorry this took so long, but I really do hope it’s worth the wait <3 A lot of love went into this, and I’d also love to thank @antoineroussel for listening to me yell about this fic for far too long.

“Never leave a friend behind. Friends are all we have to get us through this life - and they are the only things from this world that we could hope to see in the next.” ― Dean Koontz

Rory feels extremely lucky that she managed to find a job in her field before graduation has rolled around, even if it’s cutting things a little bit close. She knows how hard it is, especially seeing her friends struggle with it all. Even knowing how lucky she is, a huge part of her is anxious about having to move to a completely different state than all of the people she’s gotten close to during university. There’s something terrifying about starting over in a place you know nothing about.

At least the things she’s heard about Denver are almost all good. Besides, it’s not like she’s moving to the other side of the country, but Rory still feels overwhelmed at all of the things she has to prepare for. In the moments that it all starts to become too much, she wonders if she made the right choice.

“I think it’s a little too late to back out,” Piper laughs. “You already have everything set up and ready to go. Besides, you got that LiDAR job you were freaking out so much about. I refuse to let you drop out of it now.”

Rory sighs. “I know, it’s just scary. Like… what if I hate my coworkers? I’m depending on the fact that we become friends because how else am I supposed to make friends?”

“You’re pretty likeable, I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” Piper replies, smiling brightly. “But if they end up being shitty, I’ll fly down here with the girls and fight them for you.”

“I appreciate it,” Rory says softly, smiling a little.

“Of course, it’s the least we could do. Now, do you want to go over your list again?” Piper inquires. “Or do you feel confident about it now?”

“You’ve told me I’ve had everything the last three times, I don’t think it’s possible for me to be missing everything,” Rory sighs.

“There we go, that’s the spirit!” Piper teases.

Rory rolls her eyes. “Maybe it is a good thing I’m moving to another state.”

“Whatever you say,” Piper replies, smiling. “Now, do you wanna have movie night with the girls?”

Rory smiles, nodding, knowing that this is probably the last time everyone will be able to hang out before finals and everyone going their own ways. It’s a terrifying thought knowing that they won’t be seeing each other again come September, but she knows that everyone is going to be doing amazing things. Besides, they’d all still be friends, things would just be looking a little bit different.

The last few weeks roll by in a state of panic Rory hasn’t felt in a long time. All of her friends were panicked by finals, but also saddened by the fact that this would be the last time everyone would be doing this together. When the day comes for Rory to pack up everything in the back of her SUV, everything feels a bit surreal.

“I’m scared,” Rory whispers to Piper as she puts the last box in the trunk.

“I think we all are,” Piper replies, smiling sadly. “This feels like we’re all being thrown into proper adulthood again with no better idea of what to do.”

Rory snorts. “Yeah, it really does. I just… nothing is gonna be the same, is it?”

“No, but don’t think you’re gonna get rid of me that easily. We didn’t go through all of this for nothing,” Piper reassures. “I know I can’t just waltz over when someone breaks your heart, but I’m still just a phone call away.”

“And you better call before making any impulsive decisions,” Rory teased.

“But they won’t be impulsive if I tell you first,” Piper groans.

Rory laughs. “Yeah, that’s kind of the point.”

“You’ll do great, Rory. Don’t let them intimidate you too much down there.”

“I’ll do my best.”

They hug tightly one last time before Rory gets in the car and starts the long drive to Denver. It feels weird not making the usual drive back to her parents house, and it takes everything in her to not just turn right around. She turns up the music, and focuses on just trying to get to the first motel of the drive. There’s something lonely about not making the long drive with anyone else, especially being so used to just driving with her friends.

Over the next week, Rory makes the drive to Denver, making stops at different state parks to take in the view. Before she knows it, she’s rolled up to her new apartment complex. Everything starts to feel a bit more real as she realizes that this is where she’ll be living for quite some time. Taking a deep breath, she prepares herself for the long process of getting signed into her new place.

By the end of the day, Rory feels exhausted, even though she’s barely managed to unpack everything she brought. None of it is even organized yet, but it’s good enough for a first day. As she gets ready for bed, she groans, remembering that she still needs to get a bed, meaning that she’ll be sleeping on an air mattress until that happens.

“Ugh, this is what I get,” Rory mutters as she sets up her sleeping situation. “At least I don’t start work for a few days. That’s an upside, right?”

A few moments later, her phone is ringing, and it’s none other than Piper, probably checking in to make sure that she made it safely to the apartment.

“Oh good, you’re not dead,” Piper says, obviously smiling.

Rory rolls her eyes. “No, I’m not dead, but I just remembered that I’m gonna have to sleep on an air mattress until I get a proper bed.”

“See, I told you that you should just tie one to the top of your car!” Piper exclaims.

“It would have gotten wet from sitting outside overnight though. Nobody wants a wet mattress.”

“But I bet it sounds better than an air mattress.”

“Yeah, I don’t really know about that,” Rory replies, laughing. “I guess that should be my first priority tomorrow. Honestly, I can’t believe I didn’t sort this out before I left.”

“You had other things to worry about, like making sure you didn’t fail your geology final,” Piper jokes.

“I suppose you’re not wrong,” Rory sighs dramatically.”

“Of course I’m not. Now, where are my pictures? Send me pictures,” Piper demands.

Thankfully, the rest of the conversation helps ease Rory’s nerves, and she falls asleep quickly that night. When she wakes up in the morning, she groans as she stretches a bit. She decides that trying to find something more comfortable to sleep on is her mission for the day.

The next few days pass rather quickly as Rory does her best to get herself organized and situated before starting work. As her first day approaches, she feels nervous, still unsure of what to make of everything. But she’s also excited for it, knowing that she’s been waiting for this moment ever since she decided to become a geology major.

When her first day rolls around, she can feel the nerves thrumming through her, and she ends up at the office almost an hour early. It doesn’t seem like anybody else is there yet, so she waits in the parking lot until somebody taps on her window. She startles, but calms down when Rory realizes that it’s Shea, the guy who interviewed her.

“It’s good to meet you in person, Rory,” Shea greets as Rory gets out of the car. “Got here a little bit early, I’m guessing?”

“Yeah, you would be correct,” she replies, smiling a little. “I just wasn’t sure what to expect with traffic and I was nervous, so…”

“Happens to all of us. We’re the first ones here, so I’ll give you a quick tour before everyone else gets here,” Shea replies.

The office is fairly small, but that’s not surprising considering a lot of the work is done on various field sites. Rory perks up a little when Shea shows that she’ll have her own little corner of the office; she’d assumed she’d have to share space with someone else.

“We just like to make sure everyone feels like they have their own space here. It just makes everyone feel a bit more comfortable, you know?” Shea explains when Rory brings it up. “Besides, it’s not like there’s that many of us to take up space.”

“Oh, I guess that makes sense,” she replies.

Over the next few weeks, Rory feels a bit in over her head, but slowly starts to settle in. Her coworkers are welcoming, some inviting her to hang out outside of work as well. It’s more than she expected before moving to Denver, but she’s grateful for the warm welcome. There’s still days where she feels overwhelmed and misses seeing her friends every day, but she manages her best.

It’s a little over a month later when Shea invites her to go to the bar with a few other people from the office. Apparently it’s somewhat of a tradition with the group, and Rory feels delighted at being included.

“Of course you’re invited,” Shea says when Rory brings it up. “We just didn’t want to scare you off with being too much.”

Rory laughs a little. “I don’t think you guys can get any louder than my friends from university.”

“Well, I think we can take that as a challenge,” Ashton retorts. “Things can get a little bit wild over here.”

“Don’t listen to them, they’re just kidding,” Blair says, trying to hide her smile. “We mostly just hang out and grab a few drinks since most of us are past our partying days.”

The casual banter continues as they walk the few blocks to the bar that they frequent. Rory isn’t quite sure what she was expecting, but it seems like a relatively laid back place, at least in comparison to what she’s used to. At first, she feels a little bit out of place, unsure of where she stands with everyone in this new setting, but after a couple of drinks, she starts to settle in.

By the time she’s heading back to her apartment, Rory realizes that it’s been a long time since she’s laughed so much. There’s a small part of her that feels like she’s betraying her university friends, but she knows that’s ridiculous. Still, the feeling tugs at her, so she gives in and decides to call Piper, knowing that her friend will pick up.

“Hey, babe, I wasn’t expecting to hear from you,” Piper greets. “Is something up?”

“No, just missed you,” Rory whispers as she flops onto her bed. “Went out with some of my coworkers tonight and it felt weird. They were nice, but it’s just so different.”

“Oh, that sounds nice,” Piper replies, obviously smiling. “I’m glad you found new drinking buddies.”

“Nah, it wasn’t like that,” Rory says. “We mostly just talked, you know? But made me miss everyone.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Piper inquires, a little bit concerned. “Or is it like a ‘just kind of missing everyone’ type of thing?”

“I guess I just realized how different everything is going to be now,” Rory says softly.

“Well, that’s not a bad thing. Besides, you know I would come kick your ass before I let you forget about me. You know that, right?”

“Of course I do, Piper, you know I wouldn’t forget you.”

“That’s good then. Now, tell me about who you went to the bar with. I want to know everything.”

Rory smiles softly before talking about her night. She’s not sure how long they spend on the phone together, but when she falls asleep, she feels calmer than she has in a long time.

~ ~ ~

A few years down the line, and Rory has truly settled into Denver. She can’t imagine herself living anywhere else, and she’s grown to love her job and coworkers far more than she ever expected. There’s moments where it all feels a bit surreal that Rory was ever scared of moving, but now that she has great friends and a routine, it feels like this is what was meant to happen.

It’s another Friday night when she and the usual group are getting ready to head to the bar, albeit a bit later than normal. They all got swept up in a large project with a close deadline, and while going straight to bed sounds tempting, they’re more tempted by the new menu the bar rolled out earlier this week.

“I can’t believe I could be in bed, but instead I’m staying up to get bar food,” Ashton groans. “How the hell is this my life now?”

“I mean, it’s not too late to head back,” Rory teases. “We can always tell you about it on Monday.”

“That’s… that’s even worse,” Ashton complains. “This better be worth it.”

“Okay, but when has their food ever disappointed us?” Blair points out.

“Exactly!” Shea exclaims. “Besides, we can just stay for food and then leave.”

“I guess,” Ashton sighs.

When they get to the bar, they grab their normal table as Shea goes up to order. Considering it’s a Friday night, there aren’t too many people here, which is a big reason why they keep coming back. However, when Shea comes back with their food, a loud group comes walking in, earning them a couple of glares.

“Wait a minute,” Shea whispers, squinting at the group as he sets down the food. “I recognize them.”

Rory looks at him, confused. “Are they like… friends of yours that we don’t know about? I thought we were your only friends.”

“Oh my god,” Shea says, trying to hold back laughter. “No, they definitely play for the Avs. They are definitely professional athletes.”

“Well, what the fuck are they doing here then?” Ashton inquires as they grab some fries. “As much as I love it here, it’s kind of dingy.”

Shea shrugs. “Hell if I have a clue.”

They ignore the group for most of the night since they’re on opposite sides of the bar and never quite intersect. However, when Rory goes to get another drink, she sees her friends trying to not laugh as she makes her way back. She gives them a confused look, unsure if she did something weird.

“What did I miss?” Rory asks, concerned.

“Nothing, just seems like someone is checking you out,” Blair answers, smiling and glancing over to the Avs players.

Rory snorts. “That’s a good one.”

“No, we’re being serious, I promise,” Ashton says, smirking. “You’re getting us drinks next just to make sure.”

“No, I don’t think I will,” Rory replies, squinting. “Besides, I think you’re wrong.”

“Well, there’s no way to prove it if you don’t go back,” Ashton teases. “Don’t you want to know if a professional hockey player is checking you out.”

“I really think I’m good,” Rory sighs.

“Weren’t you just complaining to us about your lack of dating life? This is a great chance to turn things around,” Shea says, smiling widely.

“I really hate all of you and I have no clue why we’re friends,” Rory groans.

“Look, it’s worth a shot, isn’t it?” Blair inquires.

“Why do you say that like I’m going to go talk to them?” Rory whispers intently. “Because I’m not going to.”

Ashton rolls their eyes. “Fine, I guess. But it’s your loss. I was thinking you could at least badger him into buying our drinks or something.”

“Please, as if we don’t already get a discount for coming here all the fucking time,” Rory laughs. “Besides, I don’t think that a professional hockey player would want to date someone who’s idea of a Friday night is to go try new bar food.”

“You say that like this is a bad thing,” Blair jokes. “But we won’t push it if you really don’t want us to.”

“Look, maybe he checked me out, but that means nothing,” Rory says. “It just makes me feel kind of weird, I guess.”

“We’ll leave it alone then,” Shea replies firmly.

They spend the rest of the night joking around, and start to head out. As Rory is grabbing her purse, ready to catch up with her friends who are already at the door, she hears a faint hello. She turns around and sees one of the Avs players, presumably the one her friends said was checking her out.

“Oh, uh, hi,” Rory says awkwardly. “Did… did you need something?”

The guy blushes a little, which Rory admits is a little cute. “I just wanted to say hi and uh… maybe ask for your number?”

“I, uh,” Rory replies, taken off guard. “Going straight for it, huh? Not even going to ask my name?”

“Shit, that was… that was way too forward, wasn’t it?” the guy says, awkwardly laughing.

Rory smiles a little bit. “Yeah, just a little bit. I’m Rory, by the way. And what’s your name?”

“I’m Nate,” the guy replies, looking a little bit confused.

“It’s nice to meet you Nate. And as much as I would love to give you my number, I also don’t know anything about you,” Rory replies.

“So that’s… that’s a no?” he asks, looking a little defeated.

“My friends and I come here every Friday night. If you’re not busy next week, swing by with a couple of your friends,” Rory answers, giving him a small smile.

“Ah, you want to see if I pass the friend check first?” Nate inquires, smiling crookedly.

Rory nods. “See you around then?”

“I - yeah, of course,” Nate says faintly as Rory walks off.

She can feel herself internally screaming, unsure if what she did was smart or not. Even if Nate is a professional athlete, she still doesn’t know him, and giving her number to strangers doesn’t feel quite right. When she meets up with her friends outside, they’re all giving her inquisitive looks.

“So, did loverboy come over and talk to you?” Ashton inquires.

Rory blushes. “Yeah, he asked for my number, and I, uh, I didn’t give it to him? I just told him to meet us here next week if he was really interested.”

“Holy shit, that’s bold,” Shea says, smiling. “But like… not in a bad way. It’s probably for the best, if I’m being honest.”

“Making him work for it, I like it,” Blair comments, smiling.

Rory sighs loudly. “I’m not making him work for it, it’s just that I don’t like giving my number to people I don’t know.”

“Whatever you say,” Blair says, rolling her eyes a little bit. “Let’s just hope he shows up next week then.”

Throughout the next week, they find any chance to tease Rory about the upcoming Friday night. Not that any of this really surprised her, though, especially knowing that they’ve been there for all of her complaining about being single. They want this to be something good just as much as she does. When the day finally rolls around, they all keep giving her smirks, knowing what’s about to happen.

“You know, he might not even show up,” Rory points out as they pack up their things.

Ashton snorts. “Something tells me that he will.”

“If Ashton says so, then it must be true,” Shea says, smiling widely. “Hopefully he doesn’t keep us waiting too long.”

“You guys are the worst,” Rory mutters.

Everyone laughs as they start the familiar walk towards the bar. As much as she doesn’t want to admit it, Rory feels nervous. There’s a big part of her that feels like the previous week wasn’t even real, especially considering what a big shot Nate is in Denver. If he doesn’t show up, she tries to reason that it was a fluke and she has nothing to be hurt over. However, there’s also a small part of her that hopes it means something.

“So, like… did you even sort any details out with him besides coming here tonight?” Blair inquires, curious.

“Just decided to hope for the best,” Rory replies, shrugging. “Didn’t think it would be a big deal or anything.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” Shea snickers. “And would you look at that - looks like he brought backup too.”

“Dear god,” Rory murmurs as she looks over at the entrance.

Nate looks around confused for a few moments before he spots Rory. He smiles brightly when he spots her, making Rory blush and sink down in her seat. Even though she knows that she’s the one who set this up, she still feels weird about it, unsure of what to really expect of tonight. Thankfully, her friends don’t say anything as he makes his way over.

“Good to see you didn’t bail out,” Nate says once he gets up to the table. “Mind if we grab a seat?”

“Might be more convenient than standing,” Rory jokes.

“I - okay, you have a point,” Nate says as his friends try to hold back their laughter.

“So, who are your friends?” Rory asks as they grab a seat.

“Oh, this is Gabe and Tyson,” Nate answers. “And… you all are?”

“These are my coworkers and, unfortunately, also my best friends,” Rory explains. “This is Shea, Ashton, and Blair.”

“Nice to meet all of you,” Nate says awkwardly.

There’s a few moments of silence where nobody quite knows what to say. To be honest, Rory didn’t actually plan for this because she wasn’t sure if Nate would actually show up tonight. She’s not quite sure how to break the silence, unsure of what to talk about.

“So, what do all of you do for work?” Gabe inquires, obviously looking for anything to talk about.

Things get a little bit easier after that, as they explain the work they do with LiDAR. They end up using the same explanation they use when schools tour their office - just a simple way to explore what’s underground using light. Rory gets the sense that a chunk of it is going over Nate and his friends’ heads, but they genuinely look interested in what’s happening. Something about that makes her feel a little bit more at ease, even if they aren’t totally getting it, they’re at least trying.

“And I mean, we’re a pretty ragtag group since this is kind of a weird field to end up in. So I guess it makes sense that we all just kind of clicked,” Shea explains.

“That must be nice,” Nate says, smiling softly.

“So, what do you do?” Ashton inquires, trying their hardest to not smile.

Rory rolls her eyes, knowing that Ashton is just trying to get them to talk a bit more.

“Oh, uh, we all play hockey for the Avalanche,” Nate answers, obviously taken a little bit off guard.

“Care to tell the class about what that means?” Blair asks. “Like… what’s that even like?”

Nate seems to loosen up a little as he gets to talk about something he’s obviously comfortable with. The rest of the night seems to pass quickly, and before Rory knows it, everyone starts heading out for the evening. Before she gets up from the table, though, she notices Nate giving her a questioning look.

“We’ll wait for you outside,” Shea says as he looks between the two of them. “If you’re not out in five minutes, I’ll come back inside, though.”

Rory nods and turns back to Nate. “Seems like you passed the friend check.”

“Oh, well, that’s good,” he replies, laughing nervously. “Does that mean I can get your number?”

“I suppose so,” Rory replies, trying to not laugh.

After exchanging numbers, they head out, and Rory’s friends are obviously interested in what happened. She rolls her eyes, knowing that they’re too nosy for their own good.

“We just exchanged numbers, that’s it,” Rory says. “Literally nothing else happened.”

“Like… no future dates planned?” Blair inquires, teasing.

“No,” Rory says. “I still barely know him.”

“But like… is that not the point of a date?” Shea replies, smiling.

“You’re all the worst, I can’t believe we’re friends,” Rory groans.

Ashton smiles widely. “Please, we’re the best. Who else would sit through an unofficial first date?”

“That’s not what this was!” Rory exclaims, blushing. “I don’t need you to chaperone me.”

“Sure, but we did it anyways,” Ashton snickers.

Rory rolls her eyes, but lets it drop. “Well, at least you’ll be the first to know if anything actually does happen.”

“We better be,” Blair laughs. “Anyways, I’ll see you all on Monday. Make sure to get some sleep because we all know how busy things are going to be next week.”

“Ugh, I don’t even want to think about it,” Ashton groans.

The group laughs as they all head their separate ways. When Rory gets back to her apartment, she knows she has to tell Piper, knowing that her friend is going to want to know everything. Piper has been there for everything, and if anyone would know what to do next, it would be her.

“Rory, what’s got you calling me so late?” Piper asks, teasing a little.

“So, uh, do you remember me telling you about the guy last week? I finally got his number,” Rory says. “And, uh, I’m only freaking out a little bit.”

Piper snorts. “Well, that’s a good start at least. Have you texted him at all yet?”

“Uh, no?” Rory replies. “What would I even say?”

“Maybe ask if he had a good night or whatever,” Piper says, obviously trying to not laugh.

“I- fuck, you’re probably right,” Rory mutters.

“But honestly, you don’t need to make it a thing right away. And that’s probably the right way to go, you know?”

“So… just be friends? I feel like he wanted my number for a date.”

“Sure, but also as your best friend, I know you don’t like dating people you don’t really know either. If it’s a big deal, then it’s whatever.”

“That’s easy for you to say, Piper.”

“Maybe, but there’s no harm in taking things slow. Besides, you said he was a professional athlete, right? The dude could pick anyone to hang out with on a Friday night and he picked you. I really think you’re fine.”

“I really hate when you’re the voice of reason,” Rory groans.

Rory laughs. “It has to happen sometimes. But seriously, I would stress about it, and just play it casual. There’s no reason to force yourself to do something you’re not ready to do.”

“I want to be ready, though,” Rory whispers. “I’ve been complaining about this ever since I moved to Denver.”

“Whatever happens, it’ll all be okay. Just keep me in the loop, okay?” Piper says. “Now go drink some water and go to bed.”

“Thank you Piper,” Rory says softly. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too. I’ll talk to you soon,” Piper replies before hanging up.

Rory sighs, but does what Piper said. After chugging down a glass of water, she sends a quick text to Nate asking what he thought of the night before promptly deciding to pass out. She’s not even sure if he’s still awake, but it’s better to just get it over with.

When she wakes up, Rory immediately checks her phone, but doesn’t see a reply. She shrugs it off, assuming he’s still asleep. As the day goes on, she gets more nervous at the lack of reply, but tries to not think anything of it. Professional athletes have weird schedules, so she blames it on that. Turns out, she’s right when he replies later that afternoon.

Hey, sorry for not replying earlier, I barely made it to practice on time :(

No!!! Don’t worry about it, I can’t imagine having to go to work right now lmao

I had a great time though!! I really liked your friends and I’m glad I got to meet them

I’ll be sure to tell them, hopefully their ego doesn’t get to big

Fingers crossed lmao

Would you maybe want to hang out again sometime? Or I can invite you to a game or something

…is now the time to be honest that I don’t know that much about hockey

Is that why you didn’t know who I was that first night?

Yeah it would be 😅

Rip looks like I lost that bet. But it wouldn’t be a deal breaker! Just have to have you come to a game so you can learn :)

I’m sold then 👀 Can’t wait to be confused the whole time skfjsdf

Would any of your coworkers want to come? We actually have a game Friday night, and I’m guessing that you’re all usually free then

I’ll have to check to see if they won’t be too mad at messing up our bar ritual. I’m sure they’ll agree though!

Let me know asap so I can get you tickets

omg no don’t worry about that, we can get our own tickets

I can get you all good tickets though :)

…fine

Rory rolls her eyes, but she smiles a little bit. She’s excited that Nate is including her friends in plans like this because they’re important to her. And she also wants to make sure that they like anyone she’s interested in as well. Before she forgets, Rory sends a text to the group chat asking if they’d be up for the game the following week.

By the end of the day, they all agreed, and she lets Nate know immediately. He sends a smiley face back, and says that their tickets will be at the front office. Despite knowing that she won’t see him at all that day, she still feels nervous. There’s something about it that feels like he’s letting her into a part of his life, even though it’s such a public position of his.

Before she forgets, she lets Piper know, who promptly screams about how excited she is. Knowing that one of her best friends seems to approve of him - even in a vague way - helps reassure Rory just a little bit more.

Despite the large workload, the week passes by quickly, and before Rory knows it, it’s Friday night, and she’s headed to Pepsi Center. She feels nervous, and it doesn’t help that her friends have been teasing her all week. Even though she knows she won’t be seeing Nate after the game, she still feels the need to impress him somehow.

“Come on, the dude gave you fucking tickets to watch him play. I think he wants to impress you,” Shea points out as they grab their seats.

“I’m not so sure about that,” Rory mumbles. “I feel like he doesn’t need to do much.”

“I mean, you were the one who turned him down the first time,” Blair replies, smirking.

“Yeah, I’m sure he doesn’t get that often,” Ashton says. “Like, the dude probably hasn’t heard ‘no’ for a while.”

“Have I told you that you’re all the worst?” Rory jokes. “But seriously, this feels like a lot when we still barely know each other.”

“Okay, but also consider that he has money. Like this was probably nothing for him,” Ashton says.

“You know, this really isn’t making anything better,” Rory groans. “It’s just making me even more anxious.”

Blair tugs her into a side hug. “Look, I’m sure he just wants to show off a little bit. And he also probably gets some allotted tickets or something. Just don’t sweat it too much.”

“But if he’s willing to give us more tickets…” Shea jokes.

“We’ve officially hung out once, you guys,” Rory groans. “I don’t even know if I can consider him a friend.”

“Whatever you say,” Shea replies, trying to not smile.

Thankfully, they all move onto lighter subjects after, and get lost in conversation until the game starts. Rory had asked Nate some questions about the game throughout the week, but she’s still lost as she gets lost in the action. Sure, she understands the basics of it, but there’s moments where she’s not quite sure what just happened.

Towards the end of the second period, Nate scores a goal and Rory cheers loudly. It’s almost over as quick as it started, but he points over to where she’s sitting, making her blush and sink down into her seat. Her friends don’t even try to hide their laughter at the whole situation.

“Maybe he just always points over here,” Rory mumbles.

“Something tells me that he doesn’t,” Blair replies, still laughing.

Rory rolls her eyes before turning her focus back onto the game. Thankfully, the rest of the game passes without incident, and the Avs end up winning. She sends Nate a quick congratulatory text, as well as saying that she really enjoyed the game. He doesn’t respond, which she figured would be the case, so she tucks her phone back into her pocket.

“Are you sure you’re not meeting up with him after?” Ashton inquires. “We won’t tease you too much about ditching us for him.”

“Yeah, he said he’s usually pretty tired after evening games and isn’t much for conversation,” Rory replies. “Not that I can really blame him.”

“That’s a shame,” Shea sighs. “I was really hoping we’d have something fun to bet on.”

“You wouldn’t dare bet on that,” Rory accuses, squinting a little.

“Oh, he most definitely would. It’s a normal thing, unfortunately,” Blair replies. “But that’s understandable. Hopefully you can catch him some other time.”

Rory shrugs. “I’m sure we will.”

When Rory gets home, she checks her phone and sees that Nate sent a smiley face and a simple call me? She hesitates for a moment, before deciding to hit the call button.

“Hey,” Nate greets after a few moments. “I’m really glad you came tonight.”

“Yeah, I had an amazing time. It was a lot more fun than I was expecting,” Rory replies.

“I’m really sorry that we couldn’t hang out for longer, but I wouldn’t want to fall asleep on you,” Nate explains. “But if you’re free this weekend, maybe we can get lunch or something.”

“I - yeah, that would be really nice, actually. Do you have a preference for which day?”

“Uh, I guess Sunday would work. I can text you a time and place.”

“That would be really nice,” Rory says softly. “I’ll see you then.”

They sit on the phone for a couple seconds in silence, neither quite sure what to say. Rory doesn’t want the call to end, but she doesn’t want to keep Nate up too long.

“Can I ask why you didn’t give me your number that first night? I know you said you wanted me to pass the friend check but…” Nate inquires, hesitant.

“I mean, I didn’t really know who you were. I just felt kind of weird giving my number to some strange guy I briefly talked to at the bar,” Rory answers.

“Oh, I… yeah, that makes sense,” Nate says. “And Sunday, would it be a date? Or just friends?”

Rory pauses for a moment to think. She wants it to be a date, but she also knows that it would give Nate the wrong idea. As much as she wants to have a partner, she also knows that she just needs a little more time to be sure of herself and her emotions.

“Just friends, if that’s okay,” Rory whispers. “If that’s not what you were hoping for, I’m sorry. It’s just… I want to be friends first before anything else.”

“Of course that’s okay,” Nate replies. “Doesn’t change a thing.”

Rory frowns a little. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m very sure. I wouldn’t say it otherwise.”

“I - okay then,” Rory replies. “I should let you go to bed.”

“See you Sunday then,” Nate says, smiling, before hanging up.

Much to Rory’s surprise, Sunday went well. Things weren’t weird, something she was fully expecting to happen, but lunch passed by quickly. They ended up making tentative plans to hang out again soon, with Nate making it very clear there were no expectations attached. Knowing that, Rory started to feel more and more comfortable around him.

“I don’t know what to say to you except that it tore the heart out of my body saying goodbye to you.” — Vita Sackville-West

To be honest, Rory never really expected to become such good friends with Nate, as well as some of his friends by extension. Over the last several months, they’ve gotten close, but never spoke of a possibility of furthering their relationship. As much as she wants to bring it up, Rory also is perfectly content with keeping things the way they are.

However, there’s moments when she wonders if she should say something. Sometimes, she’ll see Nate giving her a look or a certain smile that just makes her think. And he was very adamant in the beginning that if they were to ever date, it would be at her pace. So maybe he’s waiting for her to say something, but Rory doesn’t have the heart to ruin a perfectly good friendship.

“You know, I really feel like he feels the same way. I don’t see the harm in doing something about it,” Blair says one Friday night. “I mean, you have the dude wrapped around your finger.”

“I just want to be sure,” Rory says firmly.

“You know what would make you completely sure? Asking him out,” Ashton replies. “Like, you’re in a perfect spot right now.”

“And I really doubt he would be mean about it either,” Shea points out. “Plus, you’ve been saying how you wanted to be friends first before doing anything. And now what are you?”

“Ugh,” Rory groans. “Just give me some time, okay? I’ll do it when I’m ready.”

Blair frowns. “If you say so.”

“I do say so,” Rory replies. “Besides, if I fuck this up, we won’t get anymore free hockey tickets. Then what?”

“Then we don’t go to hockey games. Like, we’re going because they’re fun, but most importantly because Nate has become someone important to you,” Ashton answers.

“I promise I’ll say something when I’m ready,” Rory whispers. “Just drop it, please.”

“Okay,” Shea says, obviously unsure. “We’ll have your back no matter what you decide.”

“Thank you,” Rory replies. “Now, what’s everyone’s plans for Valentine’s day this year? Because Nate invited us to a game if nobody has anything going on.”

“You want us to drop the subject but then you immediately tell us that Nate invited us to a Valentine’s day game?” Ashton exclaims.

“I - you know what, shut up,” Rory groans. “He’s friends with all of us, okay?”

“Mhm, I’m sure of that,” Shea mutters.

“Maybe I’ll just take the tickets then,” Rory retorts.

“I’m sure he would appreciate that,” Blair whispers, smirking.

“Good lord, do you want the tickets or not?” Rory asks, exasperated.

“I guess we can go,” Shea answers, acting put out.

“Oh, I guess we can go,” Rory mocks. “Jesus, you can just say yes.”

Ashton smiles widely. “But that’s not as fun.”

“Whatever you say,” Rory says, rolling her eyes.

Later that night, Rory texts Nate, saying that everyone is in for the game the following week. He sends back a smiley face and a thumbs up in return. She sighs as she gets ready for bed, thinking over what her friends had told her earlier that night.

She knows that she doesn’t have much to lose in confessing her feelings, but she also knows how busy Nate is. He’s especially focused now with playoffs coming up in a couple of months, and she knows that most of his time is spent at practice or doing something hockey related. Not that she can really blame him, she knows how hard he works, especially being a face of the franchise.

Even Piper has told her that he makes time for her now as a friend, and if he seems to feel the same way, he would definitely make time for her as a girlfriend. But something about it feels selfish to Rory in a way that she can’t explain. So, she decides to wait until the playoffs are over to say anything, and at the very least, it’ll give her more time to feel confident in her confession.

Before she knows it, she and her friends are off to Pepsi Center for the Valentine’s day game. Since this is an afternoon game, Nate agreed to meet up with them after at their usual bar with a couple of his friends. With none of them having plans, they all agreed they could all commiserate together. At the very least, it would feel less lonely than normal.

Something Rory didn’t tell the group is that they got seats right behind the Avs for today's game. She hesitated saying anything, knowing that her friends wouldn’t shut up about it. But maybe that was a bad decision because once they got to their seats and made themselves comfortable, everyone turned towards Rory. She groans, knowing exactly where the conversation has headed. As much as they laid off the teasing about Nate, she also knew they wanted the best for her.

“So, like, nothing has changed in the last week, right?” Blair inquires. “Nothing we should know about?”

“No, Nate just wanted to get us good seats for today,” Rory grumbles. “This is why I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh so you knew that we would be getting good seats today,” Ashton replies, inquisitive. “I’m starting to think that you’re lying to us.”

“I swear I’m not lying!” Rory exclaims. “He just wanted to do something nice for all of us. Because we’re all his friends.”

“Sure, whatever you say,” Shea replies, smiling.

The game goes by in a blur, and before Rory knows it, they're off to the bar. Thankfully, her friends only tease her a couple more times before laying off. As much as she knows they mean well, it still gets a little tiring not hearing the end of it. When they get to the bar, things are fairly slow, especially considering what day it is.

“So, did you have fun?” Nate inquires as he comes to sit with them at their usual table.

“It was fun, but it would have been even better if Rory told us we got better seats today,” Shea answers, giving Rory a look.

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Rory groans. “How many times will I have to tell you this?”

Shea snorts. “You know we’ll never let you live it down. But it was seriously a good game.”

“Good, I’m glad you guys had fun,” Nate replies, smiling softly.

As the night starts to pass, Rory feels herself look at Nate more than she wants to admit. But it’s hard not to - he just naturally demands attention. Whenever she catches herself looking too long, she does her best to look away and not think about all of her feelings. As much as it pains her, she’s going to keep true to her promise of not saying anything about them quite yet.

By the time everyone is heading out of the bar, Blair holds onto Rory’s arm, holding her back. Rory gives her a questioning look, but quickly picks up that Blair wants to say something. They wave off the rest of the group, and finally get a moment alone.

“Are you really not going to say how you feel, Rory? You can’t keep quiet forever,” Blair says.

“I - yeah, I’m not going to say anything. It’s just… things are hard for him right now with the playoffs coming up and I don’t want to get in the way of that,” Rory replies.

Blair frowns a little bit. “I have a feeling it wouldn’t be as bad as you’re making it out to be.”

“I’m sure you’re right, but I feel too guilty doing anything,” Rory sighs. “Just let me say something in my own time, okay?”

“Okay,” Blair says hesitantly. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is what I want,” Rory says, much more firmly than she feels.

~ ~ ~

And as much as it pains Rory to do so, she doesn’t say anything all through the lead up to playoffs. Blair keeps giving her looks, but never says anything, knowing that there’s no changing Rory’s mind now. Besides, if Nate turns her down, she has a whole summer away from him to recover from the rejection. She’s just doing her best to keep herself safe at this point.

It’s mid-April now and the playoffs are starting to ramp up, and Rory is hanging out with Nate on a rare afternoon where they’re both free. She’s savoring it as much as she can, knowing that his free time is especially thin now. Nate hasn’t made it to a Friday night bar trip in weeks, and Rory has mostly watched him from afar at games.

“I feel bad that we’ve hardly seen each other lately,” Nate says as he pulls up some random nature documentary.

“You’re busy, Nate,” Rory replies. “I’m not exactly expecting to be a priority right now.”

Nate frowns. “I… that sounds so bad when you put it that way.”

“It’s true, though,” Rory says, shrugging. “And I’m not really hurt by it. I know you and the other guys have a lot to prove this year.”

“I just feel bad about it,” Nate whispers.

“You warned me that this would happen. I can’t exactly be mad that what you said would happen is happening.”

“You’re right, but it doesn’t make me happy.”

“But we’re here now. And I really don’t mind that you forget to text back sometimes,” Rory laughs. “As long as you don’t completely forget about me.”

“I would never,” Nate snorts. “Besides, your friends make it hard to forget anything.”

“And that’s what makes them loveable.”

“Unfortunately,” Nate replies, smiling softly. “Ugh, as much as I love being in the playoffs, it sucks that I don’t get more days like this.”

Rory gives him a curious look. “What, watching random nature documentaries?”

“No, just hanging out with my friends,” Nate says, laughing.

“Huh, didn’t know you had a chill bone in you during the playoffs,” Rory teases.

“Oh my god, I hate you,” Nate groans.

“I’m sure you do,” Rory replies, smiling.

They pass the rest of the afternoon teasing each other, hardly paying attention to anything that plays on the TV. There’s a moment where she wants to say something, put everything out in the open, but it would be the end of everything if she was being honest. So, she keeps quiet, and tries to squash down her feelings.

“Well, I’ll see you soon, I hope,” Rory says as she gets ready to head out. “And don’t forget to text me back.”

Nate smiles softly. “I’ll do my best.”

“I suppose that’s the best I can ask for,” Rory sighs, smiling back. “And good luck on your game on Monday. You’ve been working hard for it.”

“I’ll win it for you,” Nate says softly.

There’s a brief moment where their eyes connect, and Rory thinks about leaning in and kissing him, but she looks away before she makes a mistake. By the time she glances back over, the moment is broken, lost to the short moment of hesitation. She wonders what would have happened if she kissed him, but tries to not think about the what-ifs.

“Alright, I’ll catch you around,” Rory says softly as she heads out.

“Uh, yeah, see you around,” Nate replies awkwardly.

As Rory drives home, she sighs deeply. She feels a twinge of regret at not doing anything, especially with an opportunity like what she had. But rushing it and saying something when she wasn’t ready feels even worse, even though she’s been ready for longer than she wants to admit. As much as she wants to talk to Piper or Blair about what happened, she knows that they would just be confused.

The one thing that keeps her calm is just waiting for the end of the playoffs to happen. And with how well the Avs are doing right now, it might be through the Stanley Cup finals. Rory does her best to make peace with it, knowing that she inflicted it upon herself. Besides, she’s been waiting this long to say something, a couple more months wouldn’t seem like much.

Except the following months seem to pass by like dripping honey. Even with all the things that are piling up at work, Rory finds herself having a hard time focusing. Nate barely replies to her texts anymore, and the responses are usually just smiley faces. It hurts more than she wants to admit to anyone, but her friends pick up on it right away.

“What’s going on with you?” Ashton inquires one Friday night. “You’ve been like… super out of it lately.”

“I - this is going to sound so dumb,” Rory mumbles. “It’s just Nate hasn’t been replying a lot lately, but he’s busy with the Avs right now.”

“Like… he’s just ignoring you?” Blair asks.

“I mean, I guess? But he replies to things eventually, even if it takes a little while,” Rory explains.

“There’s more to it than that, isn’t there?” Shea says. “Don’t forget we can read you like a book, Rory.”

Rory sighs deeply. “I mean, it’s just his replies have been super short, like just emoji responses. I don’t think I’ve gotten an actual word from him since the end of April.”

“That’s actually kind of shitty,” Ashton replies, frowning. “Like, you guys are friends, you think he could respond with something.”

“He’s busy though,” Rory whispers.

“Too busy to send a short text with words to one of his friends?” Blair asks, raising an eyebrow. “I really fucking doubt it, babe.”

“Shit, you’re probably right, but he told me this would happen,” Rory groans.

Blair gives her a look. “That doesn’t make it any better, you know.”

“Yeah, I feel like that makes it even worse,” Shea replies, frowning deeply. “Who the fuck doesn’t reply to their friends?”

“He’s just got a lot going on! I’m sure things will be better soon,” Rory says weakly. “Right?”

“I don’t know, Rory,” Ashton answers weakly. “Maybe just be a bit more firm with him next time. Like he has to reply with words at some point.”

“I guess so,” Rory mumbles.

“If he doesn’t, I’ll personally kick his ass,” Shea replies brightly.

“There’s no way you could take him on,” Rory says, squinting. “I love you, but there’s no way you would beat him in a fight.”

“That’s what you all think, and it’s why I would win,” Shea jokes.

Rory rolls her eyes, snorting. “If that’s what you want to believe.”

“Of course,” Shea replies, smiling brightly.

Things get a little bit easier after that, but there’s still a distinct silence from Nate. As much as Rory wants to wave it off and not be hurt by it, she is. She’s starting to miss the smiley faces at this point because at least then, she knew that he was seeing her messages. But now… now she’s not really sure what to think.

She ends up calling Piper, knowing that her friend will get what she’s going through. And she also doesn’t want her friends in Denver to worry more than they already are about the whole situation.

“Honestly, I don’t think there’s much else you can do unless you want to barge into his apartment,” Piper says after Rory explains everything.

“I can’t do that,” Rory replies, frowning. “I don’t want to force him to hang out when he doesn’t want to.”

“Well, he’s not responding to anything, stopping by won’t hurt anyone,” Piper suggests. “I mean, you’ve been there before.”

“That’s just different,” Rory sighs. “Maybe this is his way of saying he doesn’t want to be friends anymore.”

“Something tells me that you’re wrong about that,” Piper says. “I mean, you said everything was fine the last time you hung out together, right?”

“Yeah,” Rory answers. “Like, I knew he was busy and he said he would try to not drop off the map, but…”

Piper snorts. “That obviously didn’t work out. But are you sure you can’t just stop by or something?”

“It feels like a step too far,” Rory whispers. “Like, I don’t want to seem desperate for attention or anything. I knew he was going to be busy and that I wouldn’t be a top priority, you know?”

“I - shit, that doesn’t sound great,” Piper says. “Maybe just give it until after the playoffs. If he doesn’t say anything afterwards, it’s definitely time to move on.”

Rory sighs. “You’re right. I just feel like I fucked up somewhere and I don’t know how.”

“To be honest, I don’t think there’s anything you could have done differently.”

“I suppose so.”

“Look, I’ll be here anytime you need something, no matter how stupid it sounds. Take care of yourself, babe,” Piper says. “Now, tell me about work? What’s the new hot gossip?”

The conversation moves on to lighter topics and Rory feels lighter after hanging up. She’s still worried about Nate, but there’s nothing she can do about it all now. Whatever happens next, Rory still has her friends and that’s what matters the most, even if she wishes it could turn out a bit differently.

As the weeks drag on, Rory still hears nothing from Nate. It starts to hurt less the more she accepts that he’s never going to respond. Piper suggests going to his place again, but it feels wrong intruding on Nate when they haven’t spoken in months. He’s giving clear enough signs at this point that he wants to be left alone.

It’s early June when Rory hears about the Avs winning the Stanley Cup. She’s happy for them, for Nate, even if they haven’t had a single conversation in ages. They worked hard for this and deserve the numerous celebrations that’ll be coming in the following days.

There’s a moment of hesitation Rory has about sending a congratulatory text to Nate. She’s not sure if it would come off as weird or anything, but she decides to send something anyways. Despite everything, Rory wants Nate to know that she’s proud of him and how hard he’s worked to get this. The silence in the following days isn’t surprising, but something about it still hurts Rory.

“It’s because you care too much,” Blair says at their usual Friday night ritual, smiling sadly. “And he had a chance to say anything, but he didn’t.”

“I don’t know what I was hoping for,” Rory whispers.

“Maybe you were hoping for him to be a decent person,” Ashton snorts. “You’ve given him more chances than he deserves.”

“Like I’ve said before, I’ll kick his ass,” Shea offers. “Dude probably deserves to be knocked down a peg or two.”

“I appreciate it, but he deserves this,” Rory says. “He’s worked hard.”

“Worked harder at breaking your heart though,” Ashton mutters.

Rory rolls her eyes. “It’s fine, I really should have expected this from the start, if I’m being honest. I was pushing my luck even being his friend.”

“No, I don’t think you were,” Blair says firmly. “He was lucky to have you in his life at all.”

“Yeah, he’s the one losing out,” Shea says, smiling.

“You guys are the best,” Rory whispers. “I’m sure I’ll forget about him after the summer is over. Lord knows we have our work cut out for us with all these new jobs.”

“I don’t even want to think about it,” Shea groans.

“Aren’t you the one handing out all the work?” Ashton teases. “I don’t think you have the right to complain about this.”

“Please don’t remind me,” Shea sighs.

Thankfully, the conversation moves past Nate, something Rory is incredibly grateful for. Whatever this summer holds, hopefully getting over him is in the cards for her, even if it pains Rory to think that. There’s no point left in worrying about someone who doesn’t care to respond to her texts as much as she wants to.

Rory’s workload over the summer piles up, which is to be expected for this time of year. Summer is always busy, especially with all of the interns coming through the office. She tries to help them as much as she can, but it makes for some long days. Even though it leaves her exhausted, it also lets her slowly get over the initial hurt of Nate. Besides, she remembers being in their shoes and it’s the least she can do to be nice to them.

By the time October and the start of a new NHL season roll around, Rory feels less bitter and far removed from the whole thing with Nate. But there’s still a small part of her that’s filled with regret and longing for what could have been. She would be lying if she didn’t think about all the things she could have done differently, but didn’t out of fear. It’s too late to change things now, though, and she does her best to not think about it in her weakest moments.

“You know, I never realized how much they plaster Nate’s face all over the city until this year,” Shea comments one Friday night. “Like… do we really need to be seeing his face that much.”

Rory snorts. “You sound more mad about it than I do.”

“Yeah, because you won’t let yourself be upset,” Ashton points out.

“Because I’m not upset,” Rory replies, rolling her eyes. “I promise I’m over him, okay? Like, it wasn’t going to go anywhere.”

“Uh huh, sure it wasn’t,” Blair says, giving Rory a pointed look.

“Look, it’s been months at this point, I don’t have anything to be hung up on,” Rory groans. “Do you want me to prove it or something?”

“Yeah, actually,” Shea says. “Like… are you over him enough to go to a hockey game?”

Rory squints a bit at him. “Are you challenging me?”

“Maybe so,” Shea replies, smiling. “So… how does next week sound?”

“Let me guess, you already got tickets?” Rory inquires.

“You would be right,” Shea answers, smirking. “If any of us catch you longingly staring at him, it’s game over and we’ll have a proper night to drown out our sorrows.”

Rory sighs. “Fine, I guess.”

As the game day approaches, Rory can feel herself growing more and more nervous. While she feels confident about the fact that she’s gotten over the worst of it, she’s not sure how she feels about seeing Nate. Seeing him in person feels odd - especially at a game, where she only ever went to specifically see Nate. But she does her best to assure herself that she’s strong enough to get through one game.

When they grab their seats the following week, Rory doesn’t feel much better. She knows her friends can tell, but they’re being kind enough to not say anything. If anything, Rory wants to prove to herself that she can get through this without being weird about the whole situation. Besides, their seats are rather far back and she tries to reason that it’ll make things easier.

However, she turns out to be very, very wrong when Rory sees the players skate to their bench before the game starts. Her heart drops and feels a twinge of panic seep through her bones. Even though she knows that there’s no way Nate will know they’re here at a game, she fears that he’ll just know and get angry for intruding.

“Are you going to be okay?” Blair whispers.

“I - I think so,” Rory answers softly. “I need to get through this for myself.”

“It’s not too late to leave, it’s really not that big of a deal,” Blair reasons. “I promise none of us will be mad if this is too much.”

“I just - I want to show myself that what happened isn’t that big of a deal, okay?” Rory replies firmly.

Blair frowns. “Okay, but if it gets too much…”

“I’ll let you know,” Rory says, smiling softly.

As the game goes on, Rory can feel herself feeling more comfortable with seeing Nate. Something about seeing him just helps seal the deal, and Rory decides that he’s not worth being sad over as much as her heart says otherwise. By the time it’s over and everyone is leaving the game, she feels a bit lighter.

“So… how are we feeling?” Ashton inquires innocently.

Rory smiles. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“I mean, I hope you’re happy, But the sky is still the sky without you, And I’m not surprised by that anymore.” — Caitlyn Siehl

As the months pass and as Rory makes it through another Denver winter, she starts to forget about Nate. There’s still times where she thinks about the possibilities, but she’s moved on and passed the worst of it. She has other things to worry about, like a new promotion at work and trying to catch up with all of the new responsibilities that come with it.

“Who the hell decided that I was the best person to be put in charge of the interns?” Rory groans one early spring morning.

“You helped them anyways, we just decided to make it official,” Shea snorts. “Now you officially get to be the mother hen.”

“Have I told you that I hate you?” Rory teases.

Shea lets out a loud laugh. “It’s been a whole week, I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks,” Rory says sarcastically, rolling her eyes. “God, I never realized how many fucking applications we got. How the hell am I supposed to choose?”

“Drunk darts?” Ashton suggests as they pass by Rory’s desk.

“The fact that I briefly considered that…” Rory says, sighing. “I might take a look at them on Monday because I feel like my brain is melting.”

“Welcome to the club!” Ashton replies cheerily. “At least today is Friday and we can all drown our sorrows together.”

“Cheers to that,” Rory sighs.

By the time they get to the bar that night, Rory feels completely exhausted. She loves her work, but her newfound responsibilities have been a lot to try and handle. It only made the Friday night ritual all the more welcome and she had an even better understanding why her friends started it in the first place.

“You know, I never expected to be in this position when I graduated,” Rory remarks.

“What, working in the field you specialized in?” Blair inquires, confused.

“No, like...being in a place I genuinely enjoyed working at. I feel like it’s such a long shot and I never expected to stay here this long,” Rory explains.

“Well, it just means you were meant to end up here,” Ashton says smiling.

“I suppose so,” Rory replies, smiling softly.

None of them process the door opening until Shea starts frowning a little bit. Rory turns a little to look, and feels herself freeze a little when she spots Nate. She spins back and tries to not think about how they're in the same space again for the first time in months.

“Fancy seeing him again,” Shea remarks bitterly. “Can I punch him if he comes over here?”

“We’re not getting kicked out of our favorite bar,” Rory groans.

“Fine, I guess,” Shea sighs. “Only for you, though.”

“Only because I’m here, right?” Rory asks, giving him a stern look.

“No, most definitely not,” Shea answers, trying to not smile.

“Whatever, we’re ignoring them,” Rory says. “I want to have a good time and it doesn’t involve him.”

“Even if he’s staring us down?” Ashton inquires, trying to be quiet.

“Please tell me he’s not,” Rory groans.

“Unfortunately he is,” Blair responds, with a hint of bitterness. “You know what, maybe it’s time we change up bars, try something new.”

“But we’ve been coming here for years, I don’t want to leave just because that asshole is here,” Shea complains. “I don’t want to hunt for another one!”

“Maybe it’s just for one night,” Rory says weakly.

“Do you think the bartenders like us enough to kick out several NHL players?” Ashton inquires innocently. “I mean… I know they have money, but we’re also like… regulars.”

“Might be a long shot,” Blair answers, sighing a little bit.

“He’s still staring at us,” Ashton mumbles. “I kind of just want to leave. Maybe we can stop by the diner right down the road instead.”

“Maybe that can be our thing for a couple weeks to throw him off our trail for a bit,” Shea replies. “And also so I don’t punch him.”

Blair snickers. “That sounds like a solid plan. Let’s go.”

As they head out, Rory chances a glance over at Nate. He’s watching them leave with a frown on his face. Before he gets any ideas on coming over, she looks away, trying her best to seem closed off. Thankfully, it doesn’t seem as if he follows them, so she relaxes as they walk over to the diner.

“This feels weird,” Rory comments as they grab a booth in the back corner. “But I’m glad to be away from him.”

“Do you think he would have tried to talk to you?” Blair asks, concerned.

Rory shrugs. “I mean, maybe, but I don’t see why he would bother at this point. I haven’t seen him in almost a year now.”

“Maybe he’s just now realizing what he lost,” Ashton suggests hopefully.

“Well, it’s staying lost,” Rory snorts. “I really can’t be bothered to fix things with him. He’s had time to say something, but he hasn’t.”

“You really wouldn’t give him a second chance?” Shea asks, raising an eyebrow.

Rory pauses for a moment. “I want to say no, and I think I would in terms of a romantic relationship. But… he was a good friend and it was sad losing him in that sense, you know? And I would want him to work on himself too. Like, I can’t have him dropping off the face of the planet again.”

“I get that,” Blair says softly, smiling sadly. “Maybe one day.”

“Maybe,” Rory sighs. “But also, I think we were headed for heartbreak, there was no other option. I mean… we’re two very different people.”

“But you worked well together,” Shea said. “And that’s the saddest part about all of this.”

Rory shrugs. ��It’s over now. There’s no point in caring anymore.”

They end up changing subjects, sensing that Rory is truly done thinking about Nate. Seeing him outside of a hockey game was a weird experience and everyone felt a little bit off balance from it. By the end of the night, Rory feels better, and tries to push any thought of him aside. Whatever reason he came to the bar tonight, she hoped he got the message - that Rory no longer needed him in her life.

The following morning when Rory checks her phone, she feels herself freeze. Looking right back at her is a text from Nate. She hesitates before opening, knowing that whatever it says can’t be good. There’s a moment where she thinks about deleting the message and blocking him, but her curiosity gets the best of her.

I was hoping to talk to you last night, but it looks like you were busy. Maybe we could meet up some other time to clear things up?

Rory can’t help but to laugh. After a year, Nate finally wants to talk? The audacity he has thinking that Rory will just talk to him willingly after everything is too much for her to handle. He’s had plenty of opportunities to fix things, but going about it this way just makes everything even worse.

No, I think I’m good. You made it very clear where I stand in your life.

Rory tosses her phone to the side before seeing if Nate replies at all. Whatever he has to say to her won’t change her mind, not now. Before she can think anymore, she grabs her phone again to call Piper. It’s been a long time since they’ve talked, but Rory trusts her the most right now, knowing that her friend will be the solid voice of reason right now.

“Something tells me something is up if you’re calling me this early on a Saturday,” Piper jokes. “Normally you’re hungover at this point.”

“You’re the worst,” Rory groans. “But you’re right.”

“I’m always here for you. Now, tell me all about it,” Piper replies.

“Well, uh, Nate finally texted me after a whole fucking year asking if we could talk,” Rory says bitterly. “And this dude had the audacity to stop by the bar last night. We ended up leaving because of him.”

“I can fly down and punch him if you want me to,” Piper suggests.

Rory snorts. “I think that Shea is first in line for that.”

“We can take turns then,” Piper says, smirking. “But seriously, how are you dealing with that? Have you blocked him?”

“I - no, not yet,” Rory answers. “I told him it was too late to fix anything.”

“So… just ignore him after this. Unless you want to talk to him.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that. There’s so much I want to say to him, but I never thought that it would be like… an actual option.”

“Then just think about it. And he can wait for as long as you need him to. It’s what he deserves after dropping you like he did.”

“I feel like that’s letting him win, though,” Rory whispers.

“There’s no winning in situations like this, especially if you let him feel all of your anger and frustrations. What he did was shitty and wrong, and he deserves to know all of that before he does it to someone else,” Piper explains. “And I know how worthless it made you feel.”

“I didn’t -” Rory tries to say.

“Don’t you dare say that you didn’t feel that way. You called me crying multiple times that summer. He hurt you and he deserves to know that,” Piper says firmly. “That is, if you even want to talk to him.”

“I don’t know,” Rory says softly. “I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of talking again, but I also want to let him know how shitty he made me feel.”

“Maybe that’s all that needs to happen. One conversation doesn’t mean you’re letting him back into your life. It can maybe help put an end to this part of your life.”

“You’re right, you’re right.”

Piper sighs. “I’m sorry you had to see him again, though. I can’t imagine what that all felt like.”

“I’m just lucky I was with friends,” Rory replies. “But thank you, Piper, this helped a lot.”

“Keep me updated, okay? I want to know if I need to knock some teeth out,” Piper jokes.

Rory snorts. “Of course.”

Once they’ve hung up, Rory quickly checks her phone to see if Nate has replied. He still hasn’t, so she decides to continue on with her morning, trying to not think of him. As right as Piper is about having a conversation to try and put an end to anything having to do with Nate, the thought scares her. She knows that there’s a very real possibility that she lets him into her life again, knowing that she misses his friendship.

But she doesn’t want to let herself give in so easily. Nate hurt Rory in ways that she feels like she’s still recovering from. It’s terrifying that he was able to hurt her like this, and the more she thinks about it over breakfast, the more comfortable she gets with telling him all of this, as long as it’s on her terms.

She ignores her phone for the rest of the day and decides to focus on cleaning her apartment instead. It’s been a while since it’s been properly cleaned and she knows it’ll help keep her mind off of Nate. So, she puts on some of her favorite music and proceeds to get lost in her chores. Before she knows it, her stomach is loudly grumbling, and Rory notices that it’s now mid-afternoon.

As she grabs some stuff for a late lunch, she decides to chance looking at her phone. Her heart drops a little seeing several texts from Nate, but Rory opens it before she can think twice about it. She has to read it a couple times before it fully processes what he said.

I’m sorry I broke what trust you had in me as a friend and I want to fix that

In whatever way you see fit

I guess even if it means you never talk to me again. I just...I want to make everything better

Please

Rory pauses for a moment, and tries to think of a response. She wants to talk to him, to let him feel the full impact of how much he ruined her - but she doesn’t want to give him hope. No matter how apologetic he is, Rory doesn’t want to give him too much hope.

I want to talk, but on my terms. You deserve to know what you did to me

I hated you for a long time, Nate

Still kind of do, if I’m being honest

Just… give me some time, okay? I gave up on the idea of you a long time ago

Sighing, Rory puts her phone off to the side, and decides to try and eat her lunch in peace, but she keeps thinking about Nate. Whatever happens next, Rory wants to be ready and confident in what she wants to happen next. At the very core of it all, she’s scared of letting Nate back in and history repeating itself.

If Nate wants to be in her life, she’s going to need to see that she matters to him. But as much as she wants that, Rory knows that it’s really asking for too much. It terrifies her that the thought keeps managing to weasel it’s way into her head, no matter how much she tries to ignore it. Blair might say that it’s a sign, but Rory really hopes that it isn’t.

Her phone buzzes, and she takes a deep breath before opening her phone. So far, Nate has been understanding, but that hardly means anything at the moment.

I understand completely

And I’m truly sorry I ever did that to you

Whatever it takes for me to show you that, I’ll do

You deserve that at the very least, Rory

Thank you, Nate. I’m sorry to make you wait a little longer

I’ll try to not take too long, but this is a lot

I would wait for you forever

Ah, getting poetic now

Maybe you have changed

I’ll take a while, but maybe not that long :)

Rory sighs, but she feels good about not caving to what he wants. As much as she wants to fix everything, she also knows that she’ll regret it. Before she forgets, Rory also sends a text to Piper telling her what happened, knowing that her friend will want to keep tabs on the situation.

Groaning, Rory also remembers that she’s going to have to tell her coworkers what happened as well. Even though they’ve talked plenty of shit, she knows that they’ll be supportive of her reconciling with Nate as long as it’s on her terms. However, she also knows that they’ll gladly make sure to keep him in his place.

When Monday rolls around, Rory can immediately tell that her friends know something is up. Thankfully, they don’t say anything, knowing that she won’t be comfortable talking about it at work. But they keep a close eye on her, like she’ll fall apart at a moment's notice. And maybe they’re right, she’s not really sure what’s held her together this whole weekend.

“So, care to spill whatever’s going on with you?” Ashton inquires, walking with Rory to her car.

Rory notes that Blair and Shea aren’t too far behind, and she sighs, accepting her fate of being cornered by all of them. They all eye her as she leans up against her car and lets out a huge sigh.

“Nate reached out to me to apologize for last year. He wanted to talk in person to let everything out, but I told him no for now,” Rory explains. “I want to talk to him, but on my terms.”

Blair frowns. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“I’m not really sure, but I think I want to let everything out in the open, you know? Like, I want him to know how much it hurt,” Rory answers, shrugging.

“Would you be meeting at his place?” Shea inquires, looking concerned. “Not that I think he would do anything, but like… that’s a lot of pressure.”

Rory pauses for a moment. “I think if we were to meet up, I’d want to do it at my place. I wouldn’t feel comfortable in his apartment. He can come to me.”

“Sounds like you already have a plan,” Ashton remarks, smirking a little.

“It’s going to happen eventually, I think. I just want to be ready,” Rory says. “It feels weird hearing from him again, though. I was ready to let go, but seeing him last Friday was harder than I expected.”

“If this is what you want, we’ll support you in it, okay? I know we shit talk him a lot, but...he was a good guy while he was around,” Shea says seriously.

“Thank you,” Rory says softly. “Now, enough digging around in my personal life, okay?”

“But what else is supposed to keep us entertained?” Ashton snorts. “You’re the one who was besties with an NHL superstar.”

Rory rolls her eyes. “You guys are the worst.”

“But that’s why you love us,” Blair replies, smiling widely.

A couple more weeks go by before Rory thinks about messaging Nate back. There’s a couple nights where she almost caves and sends something to him - but she knows she’s not fully ready yet. It’s a late Friday night after a diner run with her friends that Rory feels like she’s ready to speak to Nate again.

There wasn’t a monumental shift that made Rory change her mind, but rather the fact that her heart stopped falling apart any time she thought of Nate. She thinks she’s ready to have a conversation with him because in the end, she’s not sure if she wants it to be anything more than that.

Against Rory’s better judgement, she sends a text to Nate, fully knowing that he won’t reply until the morning. And that feels safer in a way. He won’t be able to ask questions that she isn’t ready to answer quite yet, at least not over the phone.

I want to talk soon

At my apartment, though

I’d feel better being in a space I feel comfortable if we’re going to be talking

And honestly the sooner the better, if you don’t mind

I want to get this over with

With that, Rory plugs in her phone and tries to fall asleep. Instead, she keeps herself up, thinking of all the things she wants to tell Nate. She wants to let him know how much he hurt her when he left without a word, but still leaving his trace in her every thought. By the time she falls asleep, the sun is just peeking over the mountains, signaling a fresh start.

When Rory wakes up, she pauses, unsure if she wants to check her phone. But she knows that waiting won’t help anything, and it’s best to just check. As she suspected, there were a few texts from Nate. Taking a deep breath, she opens them and skims over the messages.

Whatever makes you feel the best

And I can come over tomorrow night if that isn’t too soon

But I’ll wait for as long as you need me to

Rory pauses for a moment, unsure if it would be too soon. But she did say she was ready, and like ripping off a band-aid, Rory decides it’s best to just get it over with.

Yeah, I can do that. Before or after dinner?

Or during?

Whatever works for me

…..during dinner if you don’t mind

I miss your cooking

Was that too much?

I’m sorry

You better not just be reconciling bc of my food

But yeah, that works

I’m making curry though

Don’t make it too spicy

I’ll try my best lmao

But I guarantee nothing :’)

Rip to my taste buds then lol

But I’ll see you then

Rory takes a deep breath and tries to process the conversation. It felt weird to have Nate joke with her like nothing ever happened. In different circumstances, she would have laughed and teased right back, but it was too much too fast. Nate was picking up where things left off last year, but Rory isn’t ready for that. She’s not even sure she wants to be ready for that again.

Only a moment later, it finally hits her that Nate is coming over to her apartment the following night. She screams into her pillow, and then sends off a text Piper and her other friends. No matter how tomorrow ends up going, Rory knows that she’ll be an absolute mess afterwards. The thought of seeing Nate in her space is terrifying, but it’s a fear she’s willing to face if it means that they’ll be able to resolve everything.

Before she knows it, Rory is pacing her apartment waiting for Nate to come over. Dinner is already made, due to the fact that she was trying to keep herself busy while waiting for him. As much as Rory wanted to prepare a speech for Nate, to make sure she said everything she wanted to, she also knew that she wouldn’t remember any of it the second she saw his face.

When she hears a loud knock on her door, Rory freezes for a moment. This is her last moment to back out, but she steels herself and goes to open the door. The second she opens the door, there’s a moment of silence, Nate and herself unsure of what to do. Seeing him here makes Rory feel overwhelmed.

“I - hi,” Rory greets weakly. “Um, come on in.”

“Uh, thanks,” Nate replies awkwardly, stepping into her apartment. “It smells good in here.”

Rory smiles a little. “Dinner is already finished. I, uh, got kind of nervous.”

“I can leave if you need more time,” Nate says, concerned.

“No, it’s fine. You just… make me feel a lot of things, I guess,” Rory explains. “Waiting even longer wouldn’t have helped anything.”

“If you say so,” he says, obviously not believing her.

“Well, I guess we can eat first and talk over food,” she replies. “Everything is in the same spot. Still haven’t moved anything yet.”

Nate snorts. “I’m not surprised. And I’m guessing nothing is on the top shelves still?”

“You’re literally the fucking worst, McKinnon,” Rory teases. “I can’t believe I invite you over for dinner and this is what you say to me.”

“Oh I - I’m sorry,” Nate replies, flustered.

Rory rolls her eyes. “I’m kidding, it’s fine.”

Nate blushes and goes to get plates. They serve up their food in silence and go to sit on the couch. Neither really know what to say, so there’s a few beats of awkward silence. Rory can tell that he’s waiting for her to say something, not wanting to push her too far.

“For the longest time, I wasn’t sure what to make of you just… ignoring me,” Rory whispers. “I knew that playoffs were going to be a hard time. I mean, you already were terrible at replying to things during the season, so I knew the playoffs were going to be worse.

“But then you just… kept ignoring me, even during the summer. And it was hard to not think it was maybe my fault in some way that you kept ignoring me. Like I wasn’t useful or fucking interesting enough to keep around. That’s what hurt the most, you know?”

Nate looks absolutely broken at the confession. He sets down his plate, and Rory follows suit, knowing that neither of them are going to eat until after this is over.

“I never meant to make you feel that way,” Nate says, voice breaking. “I was so scared of fucking up what we had that I thought it was better to stop talking to you. I figured that I had messed up things enough that you wouldn’t care if we stopped talking to me. Gabe tried to tell me otherwise, but I wouldn’t hear it.”

Rory laughs bitterly, trying to hold back her tears. “I cared so much about you Nate, and seeing you just go about your life made me feel so shitty. And it’s been a year now, and I’ve done so much to get over it, but now here you are… somehow, it feels just like it did last summer.”

“You were the one person I had outside of hockey, and I know that if I was just me and not ‘Nate the hockey player’, you would have liked me just as much. That made me so terrified to mess things up that I thought it was better to lose you sooner rather than later,” Nate confesses.

Rory smiles sadly. “In the end, you felt like ‘Nate the hockey player’, and I think that’s what hurt the most.”

“I - fuck, I never meant for it to turn out like this,” Nate says, choking back his tears.

“Neither did I,” she replies. “Seeing you that night in the bar, it scared me. I thought that I was finally over you, but that night showed me that you could still hurt me.”

“Is there anything I can do to fix this? I wanted to talk and I wasn’t sure if you would ever speak to me again.”

Rory pauses for a moment to think. “I don’t really know, if I’m being honest. I want to forgive you, but I’m scared of this happening all over again. My heart isn’t ready to be broken again.”

“Whatever it takes,” Nate whispers.

“Give me some time, okay? Tonight feels like a lot and I don’t know what to do now that you’re here. But I want to make sure that you actually talk to me, Nate. You can’t ignore me again.”

“I promise I’ll try my best. I just… get so focused on one thing, but I won’t push you away again, I swear,” Nate says.

“Okay,” Rory replies, voice breaking, with tears starting to fall down her face.

“Can I hug you?” Nate asks.

She nods, and he pulls her in, holding her tightly. Rory isn’t sure how long they sit there with her cradled in Nate’s arms, but it feels better than she wants to admit. Having him here like this is overwhelming, and she mourns the fact that things are going to be so very different now, no matter what happens.

“Thank you,” Rory says after a few minutes, voice rough from crying.

“Of course,” Nate whispers, slowly pulling back.

When Rory looks up at him, his cheeks are tear-stained as well, and something about that settles something within her. Something about it helps her feel like he missed her just as much, even if it wasn’t in the same way.

“Our food is probably cold now,” Rory jokes, trying to lighten the mood up a little bit.

“Is that you hinting that you want me to go heat it up again?” Nate asks, smiling.

She laughs a little. “Of course it is.”

“Glad some things never change,” Nate snorts, rolling his eyes. “I’ll get right on it.”

The rest of the evening passes with lighter conversation topics. Rory talks about her promotion at work, and Nate talks about all the new rookies she has to meet soon. It almost feels normal, and it terrifies Rory. Seeing how well he fits back into her life is a lot, and she’s not quite sure how to handle it. She doesn’t want things to move too fast, not before she’s ready, but having these quiet moments back is making it difficult.

“Thank you for having me over,” Nate says softly as he places the dishes in the dishwasher. “I’m glad we could talk again.”

“Me too,” Rory whispers. “Just… I want things back to normal, but I don’t want to be left behind again.”

“I’ll make sure you don’t,” Nate replies, confident. “Playoffs are happening again soon, and I’ll do better this time. I can’t lose you again.”

Rory smiles sadly. “You could always find someone else, though.”

“You aren’t replaceable, you know,” Nate comments. “You keep saying things like that, and I know you think I could, but I can’t.”

“You’re really making this hard, you know.”

“I just want to show you that you’re worth everything.”

“Still loving flattering people, I see,” Rory teases.

Nate rolls his eyes. “And you still love to not accept my compliments. I’ll show you one of these days.”

“I’m sure you will,” Rory says, smiling. “You sure you don’t want leftovers?”

“I told you it was too spicy!” Nate exclaims.

“You think everything is spicy, though,” Rory snorts. “But I guess that just means more for me.”

“I guess so,” Nate says softly, smiling. “Well, I’ll talk to you soon?”

“We better talk soon,” Rory replies pointedly. “No falling off the map again.”

“Not this time,” Nate promises.

Once he’s gone, Rory flops down on her bed and screams into her pillow. The whole evening didn’t feel quite real if she’s being honest. As much as she doesn’t want to admit it, Rory feels herself getting to a place where she can forgive Nate. Tonight reminded her how easy they work together and everything felt… normal. It’s a terrifying thought, especially because if he doesn’t fall off the map again, Rory can envision herself falling in love again.

When Rory walks into work the next morning, she can feel her friends’ eyes on her. She knows that they’re going to interrogate her after work, so she doesn’t mention anything the whole day. Thankfully, they don’t mention anything either, but they definitely keep an eye on her.

“So, emergency meeting at the diner tonight?” Ashton inquires innocently during lunch. “Seems like there’s something going on.”

Rory huffs. “Yeah, an emergency meeting sounds good. There’s a lot I need to catch you up on.”

“Sounds fun,” Ashton replies, smirking. “I’ll tell everyone else about our plans.”

“Thanks, Ash,” Rory snorts.

When everyone finishes up for the day, they all make their way to their new spot. Thankfully, nobody mentions what the meeting was for, but Rory has a feeling that they already know what happened. Once they’re all seated in a booth towards the back of the diner, everyone turns to look at her.

“I feel like I’m being interrogated for a crime,” Rory jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

“Did you commit a crime?” Shea asks innocently.

“Not that I know of,” Rory says weakly. “But I did meet up with Nate last night. He came over last night for dinner.”

Everyone gives her a questioning look, so she launches into her recap of the night. They all listen patiently as Rory stumbles through it all. Even though they let her talk, she can tell that they’re all concerned.

“So, uh, yeah, that was it,” Rory says, finishing explaining.

“Are you sure that you’re okay with this?” Blair asks, genuinely worried.

“I think I'm as ready as I’ll ever be. Seeing him last night made me realize how much I missed him in my life,” Rory answers.

Blair frowns. “But if he doesn’t do better, are you ready to let him go again?”

“I’m going to have to be, aren’t I? I don’t think I really have a choice in the matter,” Rory replies. “But I think I want to give him the second chance.”

“So… I can’t kick his ass on sight now?” Shea jokes.

“I don’t think so,” Ashton sighs. “What a shame.”

Rory rolls her eyes. “You’re all the worst.”

“We love you too,” Blair replies, smiling. “I’m glad that you were able to talk to him, though. Even if this all doesn’t work out, you got to talk it out.”

“Yeah, it was nice,” Rory whispers. “Hopefully things turn out a bit happier this time.”

"You have a place in my heart no one else ever could have." — F. Scott Fitzgerald

As playoffs and summer rolled around, Rory was pleasantly surprised at how much Nate texted and called her. Even though this is what she was hoping for all those months ago, it felt odd to hear from him so much. Seeing tangible evidence of Nate trying his best to be better felt like too much to take in sometimes, even if it was something small, like making sure that Rory was taking care of herself during the busy workdays.

The only downfall to this is that Rory can feel herself falling back in love with Nate. She tries to push back on it, and tries to ignore the fluttering feeling every time she sees his name pop up on her phone, but it’s hard. Knowing that Nate was making an effort for her caused a tidal wave of feelings, ones that she’s certain aren’t reciprocated.

“I think you’re fooling yourself, you know,” Blair states one Friday night. “Like… he’s putting in so much effort to reconnect that he has to feel something.”

Rory frowns. “I don’t want to get my hopes, I’ve only just gotten him back. And it’s reading too much into it, right?”

“I’m inclined to back up Blair on this one,” Ashton says. “The dude probably has a million friends, but the fact that he missed you so fucking much, even after a year…”

“But he also ignored me for months,” Rory points out. “We all agreed that was fucking terrible, and I doubt he would do that if he was into me.”

Shea shrugs. “That’s definitely a possibility, but… just think about it, okay? I know it’s too soon, but it could be worth a shot eventually.”

“I’m not going to be the one to fuck things up,” Rory says. “I’m just happy we managed to work things out.”

“If you say so,” Ashton replies. “But do you think things are going to be worse once he comes back to Denver?”

“I’m really trying to not think about that,” Rory mumbles. “I’m sure it’ll all be fine. I was doing fine before.”

“Well, we’re all here if you need it,” Blair says, hesitant.

Thankfully, her friends let the subject drop, but Rory knows that she hasn’t heard the last of it quite yet. As much as she wants to be completely open with Nate, she’s terrified of making things awkward between them. It’s only been in the last couple of months that they’ve gotten back to their easy camaraderie they had before.

When September rolls around, Shea insists that Rory invites Nate out to a Friday night bar run. After Nate happily accepts for the following week, Rory starts to feel nervous. She knows that her friends are probably going to give him a subtle shovel talk, and she’s honestly not quite sure how she feels about it. As appreciative she is about her friends looking out for her, Rory also doesn’t know how Nate is going to feel about it.

“You can’t be too mean to him,” Rory states as they all walk to the bar. “I can’t have you scaring him off, okay?”

“We’ll be on our best behavior,” Ashton says cheerily, smirking a little.

“Good lord,” Rory mutters. “At least wait until he’s had a drink or two.”

Shea shrugs. “I think we can manage that.”

By the time they get to the bar, Nate is already there, having grabbed their usual table. Rory warms at the thought of him remembering something like that. Once they all grab their seats, there’s a few beats of silence, nobody quite sure what to say first.

“It’s been a while, good to have you back,” Shea greets, eyeing Nate up. “Good job on winning the cup last year. Rough you couldn’t do it again.”

Nate laughs nervously. “Thanks, we tried our best. Just happy to get to the playoffs again, though.”

Ashton snorts. “We’re not the media, dude. You can be pissed off if you want to be.”

“I - I mean, it’s true,” Nate says weakly. “It was hard getting so close and not winning it again. But, uh, what do you want to drink? I figure the first round can be on me.”

The group looks at each other in pleasant surprise, but lists off their drink orders. When Nate goes up to the bar, they all watch him like a hawk. As Nate’s waiting for their drinks, a girl walks over to Nate, obviously flirting with him. He looks caught off-guard for a moment, but then smiles brightly, appearing to flirt back. Rory’s friends look to her in concern, and she does her best to shrug it off. It’s not like her and Nate are dating - they’re truly just friends, even if her feelings say otherwise.

“Rory....” Blair whispers.

“I told you, we’re just friends,” Rory whispers harshly. “It’s not that big of a deal, he can do whatever he wants.”

Blair frowns, but doesn’t say anything as she notices Nate walking back with their drinks. Despite what Rory is feeling, she knows that she has no right to be jealous over Nate. They’ve both made it very clear that they’re just friends, and Rory isn’t inclined to mess things up now, not when they’ve just got each other back.

“Sorry it took so long, I just got distracted talking to someone,” Nate says, blushing faintly.

Shea raises an eyebrow. “Did you get a number?”

“Oh, uh, no, I’m here to hang out with you guys tonight,” Nate answers, flustered. “And, uh, I’m not super interested in hooking up right now. I have other things to worry about.”

“Riiiight,” Ashton replies. “So, what have you been up to since you left us last?”

“Not much really, just a lot of practice and games. I also moved into a proper house again since my apartment was feeling a little small,” Nate explains.

“Wait, really? You were just starting to make your apartment look good,” Rory teases. “Am I going to have to give you decorating advice again?”

“I - no, I have everything covered,” Nate defends. “Besides, it was never that bad!”

“Uh huh, whatever you want to say,” Rory says, laughing.

“I mean, I did hear plenty of horror stories from Rory. We’re here to support you,” Ashton says, smirking.

Nate pouts. “I can’t believe I paid for all your drinks and you all gang up on me like this.”

“Don’t worry, it just means we like you well enough,” Shea replies, smiling brightly. “But honestly, you’ve just been up to hockey? That sounds kind of…boring.”

“It’s what I do every summer,” Nate mumbles, obviously embarrassed.

“He has to keep up his reputation, don’t worry,” Rory jokes.

“At least you have my back,” Nate sighs.

The rest of the night passes in a similar lighthearted manner. By the time everyone is getting ready to head out, Rory feels pleasantly warm and slightly more drunk than she normally gets. It’s just been nice to be back with Nate in the way she always remembered too fondly. She wants to tell him that, so she looks around, trying to find him.

But her heart drops when she sees the girl from earlier heading over to Nate. Rory glances away and continues following her friends out of the bar. They all look behind her expectantly, thinking that Nate is still following her.

“He’s, uh, talking to someone. I think we’re good to head out,” Rory says, trying to smile.

“Rory…” Blair says softly.

“No, no, it’s good. I don’t get to be jealous or mad over this. I’m just a little bit drunk,” Rory whispers.

“Okay, I’m driving you home. Your car will be fine in the staff parking lot over the weekend,” Blair sighs.

“Thank you,” Rory whispers.

The car ride to her apartment is silent, neither wanting to broach the subject. Thankfully, Blair helps Rory to her bed, but before Blair can leave, Rory holds her close and starts sobbing. Rory really isn’t sure how long they sit there with Rory crying into her friend's shoulder, but by the time she pulls back, Blair’s shoulder is wet from the tears.

“Are you really going to be okay?” Blair asks quietly.

“No,” Rory answers, voice rough. “This wasn’t the plan.”

“You never really stopped loving him,” Blair states.

Rory laughs bitterly. “I don’t think I did. And I hate him for that.”

“I still have a couple of friends that might be interested, you know,” Blair comments, joking.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Rory snorts. “Thank you for this.”

“You’re one of my best friends, of course I’m here to help,” Blair says. “Maybe call Piper in the morning, okay? She always seems to knock the most sense into you.”

“That… is too true,” Rory sighs. “I’ll see you on Monday?”

“Yeah, see you on Monday,” Blair says before heading out.

Once Rory hears the door shut, she sighs deeply. It scares her that just seeing Nate flirt with someone had this effect on her. She knows that she shouldn’t be hurt if she isn’t willing to confess her feelings because of course Nate is going to find someone else. He’s a professional athlete, it’s not like he doesn’t have options.

And Rory has to accept that she’ll never be an option - even as much as she wants to be. Nate put so much effort into reconnecting because he wants to be friends again, not because he ever loved her in any non-platonic sense of the word. It hurts, but Rory will learn to get over herself as long as it means keeping Nate in her life. She lost him once, she refuses to have it happen again.

When she wakes up the next morning, she feels a bit gross, and as she remembers the previous night, Rory doesn’t feel much better. But she also knows that she should call Piper, knowing that her friend will want to know what’s going on.

“Hey sweetie, what’s up?” Piper asks in lieu of a proper greeting.

“Um, so you know how Nate and I have been becoming friends again? I think I might have fucked things up and fallen in love with him,” Rory confesses.

“Does he not love you back? I’ll come and kick his ass,” Piper says.

“I don’t think he does,” Rory whispers.

“Wait, why do you make it sound like you don’t know for sure?”

“He was flirting with someone last night and we agreed to be just friends.”

“Are you sure that he could have just said that to make sure you were in his life no matter what? He could be just as scared as you are about saying something.”

“Why would he be scared of me?” Rory inquires, confused.

“How many times do I have to tell you that you’re not something replaceable? You are worth so much, and I think Nate knows that,” Piper says firmly. “You should tell him, Rory.”

“I only just got him back, though,” Rory whispers.

“Just… think about it, okay? I really think it could be something good if you gave it a chance.”

“I’m not ready yet,” Rory says softly. “Losing him again would feel… god, it would hurt even more than before. It would tear my heart out, Piper.”

Piper takes a deep breath. “I think Nate loving you has been so subtle that it’s hard to see at first. But I think it’s there, for all that it matters.”

“I hate this so much,” Rory sobs, not able to hold back the tears. “I can’t love him anymore, Piper. I can’t handle this.”

“You can, babe, I know you can handle this,” Piper says soothingly. “If he really doesn’t love you back, then there will be someone else to love you just as much as you love everyone else.”

“You really think so?”

“Of course I do. You deserve it.”

“I hate that, even now, he has me crying over him,” Rory whispers.

“I’m sorry I can’t be there for you, but I know you’ll figure it all out soon enough. Now, is there anything else fun you can update me on?”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Rory says, grateful for the distraction.

By the time Rory hangs up, she’s feeling a bit better. Even though Piper seems to think that Nate has feelings for her, Rory refuses to mess things up again. She’s willing to keep her friendship with Nate, even at the cost of seeing him love other people in the way she wants for herself. As much as she doesn’t want to, Rory thinks it might be time to ask Blair about her friends.

Despite coming to that resolution, it still takes Rory several days to build up the confidence to ask Blair about it. As much as she doesn’t want to admit it, something about it feels like she’s giving up on Nate. But she’s cried over him enough now, and she accepts that it’s time to move on forward from her feelings.

“Wait, so you’re… actually interested?” Blair inquires, obviously unsure. “Or are you doing this just to get over Nate?”

“A little bit of both, if I’m being honest,” Rory answers. “But I have to put myself out there eventually. I can’t keep putting it off.”

Blair frowns a little. “Well, if you’re totally sure, then I can set something up. Do you remember Jacob from the holiday party last year?”

“Yeah, he seemed fun,” Rory says, already knowing where this is going.

“He was definitely interested in you, but I knew you were still going through it with Nate, even if you didn’t want to admit it. But if you’re up for it now…”

“I’m definitely up for it now.”

And this is how Rory finds herself going on a coffee date with Jacob the following Saturday. It’s definitely awkward at first, but once they find their stride, Rory finds herself enjoying her time. They spend hours talking about anything and everything. By the time the date is over, Rory feels tentatively hopeful about the whole thing.

Once Rory gets back to her apartment, she notices a text from Nate asking if she wants to get dinner with him. She hesitates - she doesn’t want to ruin the happiness she felt earlier today with all of the confusing feelings Nate brings with him. But that’s also not his fault, so Rory says he can come over if he brings takeout.

Nate sends a smiley face and that he’ll grab food from her favorite diner on the way. While Rory waits, she tries to calm herself down. Her date with Jacob was good, and he was genuinely interested in her, not something she could say for Nate. Before she knows it, she hears Nate knocking on the door.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Rory greets as she lets him in.

“You replied late today. Rough night at the bar last night?” Nate teases, setting the food down in the kitchen.

Rory blushes. “Oh, uh, I actually went on a date today, so that’s why I didn’t reply.”

“That’s, uh, that’s great,” Nate says, smiling a little. “Was it a good one?”

“Yeah, we had a great time. I mean, it was pretty chill, but it was nice to get to know Jacob a bit more,” Rory explains. “We actually met last year at the company holiday party.”

“Oh, I’m glad it went well,” Nate says awkwardly.

“Are you okay?” Rory inquires, confused.

“Yeah, of course, just a bit tired from practice, I guess.”

“If you say so. Now, did you get the usual?”

Nate snorts. “I’m a creature of habit, what else do you expect?”

Things lighten up a bit after that, the awkwardness slowly disappearing the longer Nate hangs out. Rory’s really not too sure what to think of it, but she takes it worth a grain of salt. If he says practice has been exhausting, then she’ll just take his word for it.

The weeks pass and Rory goes on more dates with Jacob, even to the point of bringing him to this year’s holiday party as her date. Nate hardly asks about him anymore, but Rory takes that as him not really being into her romantic life. She can get that, especially since she hardly ever asks about his dating life as well, even if it was because she was scared to hear the answer.

All of the careful walls Rory has built recently all fall apart on a Saturday afternoon. Jacob is over for lunch, and he seems to have a serious look on his face. Rory doesn’t think much of it at first, thinking it must be something work related that he’s still hung up on.

“Are you feeling okay?” Rory inquires softly. “Looks like you’re doing a lot of thinking over there.”

Jacob smiles softly. “I - well, I really hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but are you in love with Nate?”

“Am I… what?” Rory replies, freezing. “Where did you get that idea?”

“I’ve seen the way you look at him the couple of times we’ve gone to games, and just the way you talk about him…” Jacob explains. “It’s okay if you love him, but I really don’t think we should be dating if that’s the case.”

Rory pauses for a moment, thinking over her answer. “I lost my chance with him a long time ago, and… I’m still trying to get over it, I guess.”

“You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if he loves you back,” Jacob says, smiling sadly.

“That would be a nice thought,” Rory replies, trying to laugh. “But I promise I wouldn’t be here right now if I didn’t want to.”

Jacob sighs deeply. “You’re an amazing person and anyone would be lucky to have you. And if Nate doesn’t realize what he has, he’s a fucking idiot. But I think you need to figure out your feelings first.”

“Are you… breaking up with me?” Rory asks, voice cracking.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” Jacob says softly. “I just think you need to say something to Nate because something tells me he won’t say no.”

Rory laughs bitterly. “You wouldn’t be the first person to tell me that.”

“Then maybe they’re right,” Jacob points out. “Look, this is just as hard as it is for me, but I’ve seen how you look at him. This is the healthiest thing for both of us to do, okay?”

“Shit, you’re right, I know you are,” Rory groans. “It just fucking sucks.”

Jacob smiles sadly. “Things will get better soon, I promise. I’ll, uh, see you around.”

“Yeah, of course,” Rory says softly as Jacob heads out.

As sad as she is over what happened, Rory knows that Jacob is right. Despite how much she enjoyed being around him and doing things with him, there’s still a small part of her that’s hung up on Nate. And in the end, that isn’t fair to either of them in the long run.

It also makes her think about how honest she wants to be with Nate. He’s going to want to know what happened between her and Jacob, but she’s not sure if she should tell him exactly why. The thought of telling him everything is terrifying, but if there’s any chance that he could feel the same way, even after everything that’s happened…she’s not quite sure what to make of it all.

When Monday rolls around, she asks her friends for an emergency meeting at the diner after work. They all look a bit worried, but agree to not ask any questions until then. If anyone could talk sense into Rory, it would be them.

“So… what’s going on?” Ashton inquires once everyone is piled into a booth.

“Jacob broke up with me because I’m still in love with Nate,” Rory confesses in a rush. “And… I don’t know what to do.”

“I - well, that’s a lot to unpack,” Shea replies. “I thought you were over Nate.”

Rory snorts. “So did I, but I think I was ignoring my feelings because I had Jacob. And, uh, that’s obviously not very healthy at all.”

“Are you going to tell Nate about them?” Blair asks innocently. “Because I think he deserves to know. And if things don’t work out, maybe you can finally move on.”

“I - honestly, I really don’t know,” Rory whispers. “I know it’s probably the right thing to do, but it scares me. The thought of him rejecting me hurts more than I want to admit.”

“I know I’m a huge advocate of saying things when you’re ready, but it might be time to do something about it,” Blair says.

“Yeah, we all love you, Rory, and it hurts seeing all of this happen,” Ashton replies. “Just consider it, okay? And if things go to shit, we’ll be ready with junk food and shitty wine.”

Rory smiles sadly. “Thanks, guys, I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Things lighten up a bit after that, but Rory feels a bit better. Asking Nate to put in effort to try and make their friendship better only makes sense if she’s doing the same. Sure, this has the potential to ruin everything, but it’s not any better to keep her feelings trapped up either, especially if her heart is out on her sleeve.

Despite coming to this conclusion, Rory avoids Nate for as long as she can. She’s still afraid of rejection, of being officially told that he doesn’t feel the same way. Blair does her best to encourage Rory, and it’s not like Nate’s going to accept being ignored, not this time. Eventually, it comes down to Nate coming to Rory’s place unannounced for them to meet up.

“Oh, uh, hi,” Rory greets as she opens the door for Nate.

“I was getting worried about you,” he replies, frowning. “But everyone said that you were just really busy.”

“Uh, yeah, it’s been a bit hectic. I’ve been starting to open the internship applications for the summer, so there’s a lot of stuff to focus on,” Rory explains with uncertainty as she leads them to the couch.

“I’m not intruding, am I?” Nate inquires, frowning.

“No, of course not,” Rory answers, taking a seat next to him. “Um, I guess I’ve also been a bit out of it because Jacob broke up with me.”

“Oh,” Nate says, shocked. “I - shit, are you okay?”

Rory feels her heart pounding in her chest as she decides to confess and lay everything out in the open. There’s going to be no going back after this, but she has to be brave for just this one moment.

“I think I will be,” Rory says quietly. “He actually broke up with me because he thinks I’m still in love with you.”

Nate freezes for a brief moment, looking like a deer in headlights. “And… are you still in love with me?”

“Yeah, I am,” Rory whispers. “I think I’ve been in love with you for a long time, but could never fully admit it to myself.”

“What a coincidence,” Nate says, laughing a little. “Because I’m in love with you too. I’ve been trying to get over you for so long, but it always comes back to you. Losing you the first time was terrifying.”

Rory gives him a confused look. “Why did you never say anything? I would have said yes.”

“You’re one of the best things to ever happen to me and the thought of fucking it up… I couldn’t handle it, so I focused fully on playoffs. Gabe tried to get me to say something, but I thought never seeing you again was better than hearing no,” Nate explains.

“I can’t believe we’ve both been so dumb,” Rory says breathlessly.

“Can I kiss you?” Nate asks softly.

“Of course you can, you idiot,” Rory answers, just as soft.

When he leans in to kiss her, she feels a brief moment of disbelief that it is actually happening. But it’s so much softer than she was expecting as she leans into it, holding onto his shoulders to try and ground herself. As Nate pulls away, Rory feels the immense loss, even though he’s right in front of her.

“I waited so long to do that,” Nate says.

“Same here,” Rory replies, giggling.

“Um, would it be rushing if I asked you to be my girlfriend already?” Nate asks, nervous.

Rory shrugs. “Maybe, but it’s a yes anyways.”

“That’s good,” Nate whispers before kissing Rory again.

“When I go towards you, it is with my whole life.” — Rainer Maria Rilke

It’s summer again in Denver and Rory has taken to staying over at Nate’s place more often than not. He decided to come back early this year to spend more time with her to make up for lost time. Rory was flustered at first, knowing that it was disrupting his usual routine, but he was insistent that she was worth it.

Rory rolls over and curls into Nate, who’s still surprisingly in bed. He kisses her head softly, causing her to smile. It’s rare that they cuddle together in the morning with Nate’s training schedule, so she enjoys every moment she can.

“Good morning,” Nate says softly. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, just enjoying this,” Rory mumbles. “Thought you would be gone by now.”

“This seemed a little bit better than working out,” Nate jokes.

Rory laughs and adjusts to look up at him, smiling widely. Nate leans down to give her a quick kiss before setting his phone back down on the nightstand. In this moment, Rory feels the most content she’s felt in a long time. Everything just… feels right and she doesn’t want to break the moment.

“What are you staring at?” Nate asks, trying to not laugh.

“You,” Rory answers, smiling a little before giving him a quick kiss.

“Mmm, morning breath,” Nate mumbles, kissing her back. “Also didn’t realize I was that nice to look at.”

“Well, you are. And I’m just really happy,” Rory states.

Nate's eyes crinkle as he smiles widely and goes to kiss Rory again. They get lost in each other and the slowing of time that only an early summer morning can bring. This time, Rory pulls away, knowing that they have other matters to take care of today. She knows that there will be plenty of other moments like this to enjoy now that they have forever ahead of them.

“You promised that we would go furniture shopping today,” Rory says.

“Ugh,” Nate groans, pulling her up to kiss her jaw. “I don’t want to though.”

“We can’t keep putting this off forever, though,” Rory points out. “I’ll just keep bugging you until we do it.”

“Why can’t I just give you my credit card? It’s not like I’m going to be any help,” Nate points out.

“But I want you to be there,” Rory replies, smiling. “I like being around you.”

“I’m sure you won’t be saying that two hours into furniture shopping. There’s a reason why I made my mom do all the shopping.”

“And I love your mother, she made some very good choices. But it’s… kind of empty here, isn’t it?”

Nate sighs. “Fine, I guess I can go. Just this once.”

“I love you,” Rory blurts out, then immediately freezing.

“Oh,” Nate says softly, seemingly surprised.

“I - sorry that’s probably too much,” Rory whispers.

“But you meant it?”

“Of course I do. You’re one of the best things to happen to me, Nate. I know things have been hard before this but...I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Nate stares at Rory for a moment, trying to process everything. He reaches over and holds her face, stroking her jaw before giving her a quick kiss.

“I love you too,” Nate confesses softly as he pulls back. “I’m so sorry I left you the first time, but I promise to keep making it up to you, no matter what.”

Rory laughs a little, before smirking. “And now you can make it up to me by going furniture shopping with me.”

“I guess it’s not going to be so bad with you if it means I get to keep you around.”

“Good answer, babe.”

“I’m going to make some coffee, but take your time.”

Rory hums a little. “Okay, I’ll be out soon.”

Once Nate is out of the room, Rory takes a deep breath. Despite being together for months now, he still manages to set her off balance in the best of ways. There’s brief moments where none of this feels real to Rory - she still has times where it’s hard to imagine Nate being happy about dating her. But hearing Nate tell her that he loves her...something about it settles some of her worries about their relationship.

The smell of fresh coffee finally tempts Rory to roll out of bed and throw on one of Nate’s old t-shirts in place of her pajamas. As she makes her way to the kitchen, she also hears the sizzling of bacon and Nate cracking some eggs. This brings a small smile to her face, knowing that this means Nate is going to try and push for a lazy morning as long as possible.

“You look nice,” Nate says, smiling.

Rory rolls her eyes. “I don’t look any better than before.”

“Ah, I think that’s where you’re wrong,” Nate remarks, giving her a quick kiss. “You -”

“Always look better with my clothes on,” Rory finishes, smiling. “I think you’ve mentioned it a couple of times.”

“Still true, no matter how many times I’ve said it,” Nate says. “I’ve got breakfast going, so you can just grab some coffee and relax.”

“This is nice,” Rory replies softly. “It’s not going to get you out of shopping today though.”

Nate sighs, laughing a little. “It was worth a shot.”

“You should feel lucky that I’m going furniture shopping for a place I don’t even live in, though,” Rory points out. “Like, I’m not even going to fully enjoy everything I pick out.”

“You could though,” Nate blurts out, immediately blushing.

“Are you… implying something here?” Rory inquires, raising an eyebrow.

“Um,” Nate says. “I was just thinking you could, uh, maybe move in with me to fully enjoy whatever you pick out.”

“Babe, you literally just told me that you loved me this morning,” Rory snorts. “I appreciate the offer, but this is a lot right now.”

Nate groans and hides his face in Rory’s shoulder. She laughs a little, knowing how embarrassed he’s feeling right now. Ever since they’ve started dating, he’s gotten a lot better at communicating, even if it means blurting out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Look, my answer isn’t a no,” Rory says. “I still have my lease for a little less than a year, but after that, we can talk.”

“Okay,” Nate mumbles before pulling back. “I’m sorry for being too much.”

Rory smiles. “I don’t mind it, you know that. But if you ever want to back out of the offer…”

“I’m not going to back out,” Nate pouts.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, babe,” Rory says, smiling. “Now make sure the bacon isn’t burning, okay?”

Nate smiles, kissing her softly. “Okay, can do.”

This might not be how Rory was expecting her morning to go, but she’s grateful for it nonetheless. Being here with Nate likes this is more than she could have asked for this time last year, and she’s never felt so lucky.

#nathan mackinnon #colorado avalanche #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #nathan mackinnon imagine #fic #mine

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moonlitceleste · 4 years ago

Audio

I highly recommend wearing headphones or earbuds while listening for the full effect! The song used in the audio is Parasite Eve by Bring Me the Horizon; the rock I listen to usually isn't this heavy but this song seemed fitting for the plot.

The audio and story were a bit rushed, and I was also really tired when I wrote this so sorry for any mistakes!

Let me know if you want me to continue making these! They take a long time, so if you enjoy them I’d really appreciate if you interacted with this post :D

The low purr of Jason’s car slowly died as it came to a halt in what was one of Gotham’s considerably least shitty parking lots.

And when he said “least shitty,” he meant it. Nothing in Gotham was good, let alone extraordinary enough to deserve higher praise.

Jason got out of the sleek black vehicle and closed the door, taking care to lock it before he stuffed the keys into the inner pocket of his faux leather jacket.

It was of high quality and material; he wouldn’t have bought it if not for the behest of Tim, but now he admitted the purchase was a good one. A few years ago his younger brother gained rapid interest in someone by the name of MDC; within a day, he easily found out the young designer’s identity and somehow pestered her into taking him on as a client. If Bruce was any indication, he probably left her no choice.

Speaking of the designer, she was partly responsible for his current situation.

A year ago MDC revealed her identity to the public and started to appear by Jagged’s side on tour, both as a designer and a performer. How she managed to do this while running a business and taking commissions, Jason had no idea—but he respected her ability to juggle all that work, especially since she was only a few years younger than him.

(It was worth mentioning that he didn’t learn this all this on his own—between Tim and Dick’s constant discussion of her, the information was practically drilled into his head. They were the fanboys, not him.)

A while after her reveal, Jagged announced he was going on a worldwide tour for the first time in years. It was only natural that one of those stops be his hometown, so the rockstar sent Bruce enough VIP tickets for the whole family and then some—which is why Jason was currently standing in the middle of a kind-of-shitty parking lot.

He hadn’t planned on going to the concert, rather opting to stay at home, go on patrol, and relax with a good book. But his plans fell through with the unusually low crime rate. He circled around various areas multiple times, but the only disturbances he stumbled across were petty thefts. It was as if all the criminals had collectively agreed to stop their plans for the night.

Yeah right, as if they’re all going to attend Jagged Stone’s concert or something.

Jason snorted at the thought.

He shook his head, pulling himself out of his thoughts to continue walking. He was already an hour late, not that it mattered.

A loud whoop caused him to tense, but Jason relaxed slightly at the sight of a small group.

There were three girls and one boy; none seemed particularly threatening, judging by appearance and gait, but it was Gotham. One could never be too careful.

One of the girls, short-haired and clearly tipsy, slung her arm around a blonde’s shoulders and pulled her in for a sloppy kiss. Their friends chatted loudly beside them, disturbing the relative quiet of the night.

Damn, I’m lonely.

Jason sent a harsh shut up to whatever voice in his head that decided to say that and approached the usher at the booths near the venue entrance.

He showed his pass and was pointed towards his destination, but the directions were unneeded. The booming music and cheers were more than enough to let him know where he was supposed to go.

After pushing past countless bodies and showing his pass to a security guard, Jason finally reached the VIP floor. He tuned out the music, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of his family, and spotted them within a matter of seconds. It wasn’t hard considering how large their group was.

Stephanie was the first to see him. She waved him over while shouting something, presumably his name, and he followed.

Jason winced internally as he sidled up next to them; whoever was stuck behind his 6’4” frame was likely very annoyed.

He took a few seconds to settle in before turning his eyes to what everyone else was looking at.

In the middle of the elevated stage was Jagged Stone, shredding on his guitar and bobbing his head up and down to the beat.

He was costumed in an intricate, eye-catching outfit—quite literally.

The rhinestones on his black jacket caught and reflected the purple lights that shone above, and he shimmered with every movement.

Accessories were piled top to bottom, with his signature black lace gloves only being one of them.

Jason didn’t know much about design, but the outfit came across as intentionally showy rather than garish, which seemed like an impressive feat considering the sheer amount of components included.

Speaking of design, the girl a few feet away certainly didn’t escape his attention.

She was adorned in a short red dress with thin straps, a cowl neck, and a satin material. A leather jacket, combat boots, and the same lace fingerless gloves the older performer was sporting completed the look.

Damn, was the first thought that came to Jason’s mind.

Although he knew better than to underestimate women, he found himself shocked by the powerful vocals that spilled from her mouth. For someone so short, she certainly had a large pair of lungs.

Her voice was a far cry from Jagged’s growls and classic rock screams, but fit in nonetheless.

If anything, it was a light contrast to the heavy-hitting beat and the bass which reverberated through the venue, like how chefs used lemon to cut through the heaviness of a dish.

The way she moved with such poise was captivating, and the smile she wore as she lost herself in the music reeled Jason in.

He could only stare as she belted each note with ease, and the fleeting thought of what she’d look like in his leather jacket passed through his mind.

This train of thought was abruptly cut off as Steph sent a sharp nudge into his side.

Jason looked over, and she started mouthing the lyrics to the song rather aggressively while making exaggerated motions. He assumed this was her way of telling him to start dancing with the crowd.

She looked at him expectantly, to which Jason rolled his eyes, but when she looked away he subtly started moving his feet to the music.

Maybe going to a concert with his family wasn’t so bad—and when he thought of a certain designer, he couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t grateful for those backstage VIP passes. Now all he had to do was make sure he asked her out before Tim could.

PERMANENT TAGLIST (some of you might not remember asking, but I was reading the comments under my first fic and saw that you asked to be added. if you don’t want to be on the list anymore, just ask and I can take you off!) @avengerthewarrior @bluesimani @enternalempires @flower-girll @freesportspalacesalad @glastwime859 @h1sss @heart-charming @jalaluvsu @kitsunebell @moongoddesskiana @nathleigh @too0bsessedformyowngood

#maribat #celestewrites #jasonette #please don't let this flop aksdhsj #cel’s fics

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oftenderweapons · 4 years ago

Text

The Studio - Min Yoongi

Pairing: Yoongi x reader (nicknamed Kitten)

Wordcount: 9.8k words

Genre: fluff, smut, mild angst

Rating: 18+

Hello my little raspberries! Here we go with Yoongi’s studio one shot. I’ll try and explain as briefly as I can for those new to this: Kitten is the nickname Yoongi has given to the reader (read more about the nicknames here), so basically this is a readerxYoongi.

To sum up the context of the fic quickly without reading all the rest (including some stuff which hasn’t been published yet [if you wanna read it vote for Illicit Affairs *wink wonk*]), Yoongi and Kitten have been dating for months but Yoongi kept postponing stuff with her (much to Kitten’s dismay — more like utter desperation) until their schedule in Japan was done. When they do reunite, they basically live joined at the hip — pun intended — but unfortunately, since tour is approaching, Yoongi has to take a week to focus on his job, promising Kitten the weekend. As Friday nights falls, Kitten decides to come claim her prize, and she comes carrying a lethal weapon.

Description and trigger warnings: Lots of swearing. As usual there is unprotected sex (these two got tested before going bare, please be like Yoongi: be smart, get tested). Female masturbation (with bullet vibrator), Kitten acts up since Yoongi acts oblivious and indifferent (surprise: He. Is. Not.), Trauma from past relationship (Kitten has had a pretty shitty ex who ignored her needs and made her very uncomfortable about having someone go down on her), Male masturbation, Oral sex both male and female receiving, Sensation play and slight foot fetishism, cum play and cum eating (it was necessary), lowkey spanking, multiple orgasms, hinted squirting.

Word count: 9.8k

Here is my updated Masterlist!

The receptionist led you through a daedalus of rooms and glass doors. After a few turns you spotted the sign of the Rkive, nothing but darkness coming from behind the glass door. He was probably already at home, maybe with his girl. From what Yoongi had told you, Namjoon had been working from home for the last few days, only coming in for rehearsals, leaving shortly before dinner. You had crossed her on the lift once as she carried a weekender, smiling at you, before you both headed for the same corridor, stopping at neighbouring doors, both ringing the doorbells and waiting.

"You must be Kitten, uh?" She said, using Yoongi's nickname. You asked yourself how she knew that.

"Vixen?" You replied, guessing that she was the woman that Namjoon told Yoongi about.

She laughed and nodded. "Yes, I guess you can call me that too. Pleased to meet you." She said, introducing herself with her full name. Just as you shook her hand, introducing yourself, Namjoon came to the door in a pair of loose grey sweats and a white t-shirt, greeting her with a "hey babe" before he spotted you, waving cutely at your form before Yoongi opened the door for you, with a way less appropriate "fuck, I'm starving, come here" which had the couple next door secretly giggling as your needy partner dragged you past his threshold and smashed the door closed.

That was just two weeks ago. You went from a week of daily sex — with multiple rounds — to a complete caresty. You were almost ready to hump a streetlight like a stripper pole, however you thought you'd much rather surprise your man and knock at his door like a discreetly civilised young woman.

Lost in your thoughts you didn't even realise you had reached his door.

"Here we are, shall I ring?" The receptionist asked.

"Yes, please." You said with a polite smile.

"I think I've already seen you."

You nodded. "My firm works for yours. I have come here before." You confirmed.

"Oh, that makes sense."

Yoongi opened the door, his mouth composing a surprised expression, and then his signature gummy smile, which you mirrored. "You're here."

You nodded, mirroring his expression.

"Thank you, Mr. Kang." He said, holding his hand out for you. You caught it immediately as he led you through the door.

"That's okay, boy." The older man, quite surely a member of security greeted both goodnight and headed back for his spot.

"He's my favourite. Sometimes when his shift ends we eat dinner together. He's amazing." He said with a soft smile. He brought your joined hands to his lips, kissing your knuckles. "How's the weather outside?"

"Not too cold, but the air is pretty damp, I just hope it rains. It's very foggy tonight." You said, taking off your coat.

He grabbed your face as both your hands were still caught in your sleeves, planting his lips on yours. "Lemme finish a couple things on this one then we're all set and we can head home."

"Are you the only one left?" You asked.

Yoongi nodded. "Normally it's me and Joon working late and heading back home together, but lately he's been going back home to Vixen. I've heard he's trying to get her to move in."

"Haven't they been dating for a couple months?" You questioned.

"So what. We've also been dating for a couple months but would you say no if I asked you to move in with me?"

You thought about it.

"Seriously?" He asked, scandalised at your hesitation as he headed back to his chair.

"I mean…!" You complained, trying to win him back. "It's just a couple months. I would take it easy, maybe first I’d start with staying for the weekend and then see if I can handle it during weekdays too, gradually. A bit at a time."

He acted as if he weren't listening.

"Yoongi!"

"Busy." He replied.

"You cannot not listen to what you don't like." You said, with a curious giggle.

"Call me when you're ready to say 'If you asked me to, I would move in tomorrow'". He typed, but it sounded more like a dramatic gesture than some actual typing. "Plus, I will unlisten to whatever you say that doesn't respect the I-love-you-I'm-a-sucker-for-you-Yoongi agenda."

You moved closer to his chair, standing behind him, bending down to his ear. "What if I put my lips, right here." You teased, "would you listen to me?"

He shivered and you snickered like a vicious predator.

"Uh?" You urged him.

"You won't distract me like this." He said.

"Not even if I said 'I love you, I'm a sucker for you, Yoongi'," you moaned in his ear, "not even then?"

He shifted in his seat, his lips parting. "No." He said, but his voice was extremely unsure, not even a glimpse of firmness in it.

"Don't lie to me." You murmured. Your hands spreading over his pectorals. He might not be as buff as some of the other guys, but he was secretly well built, especially on the chest area. You had personally tested that out.

He withheld a moan. "I'm not distracted."

"You're getting hard, Yoongi." You commented, noticing his bulge. You let your hands crawl lower, down his stomach, where his sweater met the waist of his slacks. "I missed you so much these past few days." You whined, trying to find the button of his trousers.

He slapped your hand. "Let me finish and we can head home. There you can tell me how much you missed me." He said, his voice almost sounding like a warning. "In detail."

"But I want you now."

"Stay put and wait."

You tutted and stood up. "Cockblocker." You snarled under your breath, sitting on the sofa.

"How can I cockblock you if you don't even have a cock?" He argued back.

You chuckled. "Shut up." You rummaged in your bag, smirking when you found your little personal pouch. "Plus, why would I need a cock when you can share yours with me?"

It was his turn to chuckle. "You, shut up." He said back at you. "If you were smart enough, you would keep quiet and be good, so I can finish my job and take you home."

The fact that you immediately thought of his place scared you a little. You absolutely understood Vixen and Namjoon's position at this point. With the guys' schedule, which includes working hours, trips, shootings, TV and radio appearances, then briefings and their own meetings and the oncoming tour, you started fearing how it would end up with you and Yoongi: your relationship had blossomed in fits and starts through Yoongi's determination and commitment, and your curiosity towards him. It had kept going because of the incredible attraction, the sense of balance and the sacred quiet and respect that you could reach in each others' company.

"Home where?" You asked, shutting up your mind.

He turned with his chair. "This should be enough to show you that Namjoon is right about having her move in. And that I would be right too if I wanted you to."

He wanted to. After he'd come back home from Japan, you had spent the rest of the week going back to his place after dark, having dinner, taking care of each other, sleeping together. The week after that you basically went back home only to grab a few things before going back to his. Then on Sunday he told you he had rehearsals at BigHit, and usually those go on till late, so he would be staying at the dorms, promising you he'd spend whatever free time he had with you and that he would see you in the weekend, when the rehearsals finish earlier and they have less disturbing timetables.

That's how you found yourself in his studio, on Friday night at 10pm.

"How long do you have left there?" You asked.

"Mh, maybe twenty minutes. I was just doing a little bit of fact checking and research for some references. Almost done."

"No listening?" You asked, testing for any catch in your plan.

"No, i don't think so, why?" He kept scrolling on his screen.

As you quietly took off your trousers, you chirped out a "nothing" shedding your jacket too in the process. You sat on his sofa in nothing but a formal shirt, an undershirt and your bra, your lacy panties doing little to protect your skin from the cold bite of the leather. You grabbed your disinfectant gel from your pouch and poured a dollop on your palm. After that you passed a wet wipe on your hands, carefully inspecting the underside of each nail. Once you were satisfied, you neared the bin by the door and got rid of the used wipe.

You sat back on the sofa and bit your lip, hesitating before moving to the next step. You still forced yourself to ignore your pouch, focusing on cupping your crotch and staring at the back of Yoongi's head. His place smelled amazing, something like patchouli and lavender and amber and pine. It was very male. Sometimes you could even catch a whiff of scotch.

You were wet.

It felt uncomfortable and somehow disappointing that he was there but he hadn't yet looked for you. Uncertainty made you desperate and eager for confirmation on his side. Maybe that's why you were here, acting like this.

The moment your finger slipped against your clit you huffed out a heavy breath, trying to keep quiet and making sure that Yoongi couldn't hear you quite right yet.

You did it again, trying to arouse yourself fully, until the wetness became unbearable. Not only it needed to feel wet, but to sound like it too. It took little, especially considering that you had accidentally deprived yourself because of a combination of work and stress and waiting for Yoongi. On the brink of sanity, you slipped your panties to the side, the sound of typing stopping for a second, which had you stopping your finger with the tip hovering at your entrance.

Yoongi started typing again, slow but completely absorbed in his work. You pushed your finger in, your mouth opening in a breathy sob, which Yoongi didn't hear — or that maybe he ignored.

Crooking your finger, you teased your g-spot, immediately flinching as you realised how it felt almost too good. The sofa creaked underneath you.

At his desk, Yoongi was going on with his work, completely oblivious of the misbehaving happening on his couch, however he almost started thinking of working from home.

Oh, so you'll be in the same house as Kitten, with a bed, a sofa and a bathtub, and you're gonna lock yourself in the studio and ignore her. Yeah, right. He thought.

Therefore, on with his work.

In the meantime you had surreptitiously taken off your panties, your legs still open just barely enough to fit your wrist. The process had been an exercise in control, since the leather seemed to have glued to your naked backside, which made it creak at every single inch of skin trying to part from the surface. Your hand was now free to roam on your pubis, cupping the skin and parting the labia, dragging two fingers along the slit, wetting them properly before inserting them. This time you did moan a short staccato sound, it lasted maybe half a second before you regained control of your vocal cords.

Yoongi's ears immediately picked that up, however he deemed the sound a sign of impatience or tiredness and dismissed it altogether.

Licking your lower lip, almost expecting him to turn around, you waited a couple more seconds before moving your fingers inside, crooking them. You bent forward at the precision with which you managed to find your sweet spot, the seated position simplifying the operation. Your mouth parted in a silent cry and your hips buckled, once more making the sofa crackle underneath you.

Yoongi started getting suspicious: he knew you had something going on, but he decided against asking. Ignorance is bliss.

He went on with his work.

You started getting seriously upset at his lack of recognition. With insufference and discontent coursing through your veins, you fished out a smaller pouch from your bag, quickly undoing the strings with your clean fingers. You extracted one of your favourite gifts to yourself, a small vibrator, a rather practical one you had taken from your bedside before you came to see him. You were almost sorry it was a pretty quiet one. You switched it on, enjoying the light buzzing it emitted. It was like listening to a mosquito fly around your ears. You seriously doubted Yoongi could hear it.

You placed it on your mound, without even letting it close to your folds or your clit. You teased the outline of your intimate parts, gently drawing the lines of your labia. You were very careful when you reached your clit, still a whimper escaped your lips.

Yoongi placed it immediately. He could recognise that sound instinctively. Usually it was connected to his tongue curling around your clit when he started eating you out. It was the first-lick whimper. The other circumstance was when he slid inside you particularly good, with that smooth, all-in-in-one-go kind of thrust. You were probably touching yourself.

He didn't know what to do with that information. He wanted to turn around and look at you, of course, but he thought that if he ignored you, you would probably get louder, needier and messier, and he was all in for that.

In the meantime you had started drawing circles on your clit, your breathing erratic and your spare hand going up to cup your breast. Your eyes were still glued to the dark mass of hair emerging from the chair right before you. "Yoongi." You called.

"Almost done, baby." He replied. He wanted to smash his head against the table. No man in his right state of mind would do this. He wasn't a genius. He was a masochistic fool and the worst part of it all was how disgustingly lucid he was in his reasoning. How he was trying to get you so desperate that you would scream and beg for his attention.

You were fuming: you turned the power of the toy to the loudest setting you had, the buzz now propagating in the room, your cunt so slick it was almost too loud for your taste.

"Yoongi, please." You cried out, your juices dripping on his sofa. And then you snapped, your whole body bending forward as you moaned "so good, Yoongi", your body too weak to remove the vibrator from your overstimulated nerve endings, your orgasm too sudden and overwhelming.

Still, no sign from Yoongi. The back of his chair was the first thing you noticed as soon as you recovered from your small black-out.

You switched off the toy, laying it on your thigh as you laid back against the back of the couch. "Yoongi." You called again, upset by his indifference.

"Mh." He acknowledged. That was suspicious. Quietly you parted from the sofa, kneeling down and starting to crawl towards him, not entirely trusting your legs to not give out beneath you; however your crawling had a limping pattern, your soaked hand close to your chest, clutching the toy in your palm.

You were perfectly quiet as you closed up on him, hiding behind the back of his chair as you listened. He was making a noise similar to a low purr, groaning under his breath. Your eyes closed as you listened to him carefully. You knew that purring moan, the rushed pattern of breaths. You moved to the side of his chair, peeking at his lap.

He was touching himself, his other hand combing his hair back and moving down the side of his neck, lingering on his chest. His eyes were closed, his lips parted, his hips jerking up just a fraction of an inch with the tiniest thrusts. His hand looked glossy with spit and precum as he dragged it roughly from base to tip, where he gave two rolls of his wrist before heading down again.

It was his technique, milking upwards, double roll the palm around the tip and back downwards. It was the way he used to do it before you came around. Since then he had slowly grown accustomed to finishing by thrusting up into his fist, usually laying on his belly before cumming on your navel or kneeling, straddling your waist and spilling on your chest. He loved pressing his face between your boobs when he touched himself hovering over you, but he also enjoyed the view when kneeling over you.

Thinking of you like that had his lips parting in a slow, heavy breath that got you even wetter.

"Yoongi." You whispered delicately.

He didn't even get scared, he just opened his eyes and smirked. "You done with your little scene on my sofa?"

Cocking an eyebrow you sat on the balls of your feet, observing him. "Maybe I should go back home, where I can comfortably make myself cum on my plush bed without judgy, undeserving people around." You said with a petty tone.

He looked taken aback by your comment. "I had told you to stay put, still and quiet."

"Buy yourself a doll and she can do that for you. I've been staying put, still and quiet all week. I can assure you it's pretty boring." You reprimanded him, a bit upset.

"Are you horny?" He asked, slowing down his motion.

"I was." You clicked your tongue, catching his hand mid-stroke. "You lost your chance."

He chuckled mischievously. "You've had just one. You need minimum another." He ripped his hand from your grasp and started moving again.

"You were busy. How come you're jerking off instead of doing your fact check?" You asked, snarling a little.

"I finished my fact check but I didn't want to interrupt you. I reckoned I could use your little solo for selfish purposes." He said, groaning a bit as his slowed down movement reached a sensitive spot.

You wanted your mouth on him. You were ready to make him pay for it.

He stopped touching himself and moved his hand to your mouth to draw the line of your lips. You immediately opened up, slipping your tongue out to lick at his finger.

"Kitten." He breathed out.

You ignored his plea and sucked at his finger. His strong, slender, beautiful finger. He was enraptured by your expression: eyes closed, lips puckered around his knuckle. You looked peaceful. And beautiful. And well, erotic.

"Kitten, love." He murmured, turning his chair slightly, enough so that you could be more comfortable in your position.

You were finally facing his lap, his cock laying in front of you, covered in slick, so thick and delicious. He wasn't that long, but it balanced his body beautifully, the thickness and modest length making it the best dick you had ever taken in your mouth, which obviously made you twice as willing to suck him. All the time — not like frequency mattered.

With a bit of resistance on your behalf, he pushed his finger out of your mouth. "Are you that in love with my hands, Kitten?"

You pouted. "Tell me one good reason to take it away from me."

"I thought you'd like my cock better." He said, honest.

You frowned. "As if you deserved to get some after making me cum all alone, while you took advantage of my loudness."

“Are you angry at me, Kitten?” He asked. He knew it was a bastard move when he started it, but he hadn't thought it would affect you this much.

“A bit.” You admitted.

It was sort of hilarious to have this conversation while you were naked from your waist down, a bullet vibrator in hand and his erection laying out of his pants.

“Why are you angry at me?” He asked, being absolutely neutral about his state of undress. Unfortunately you weren’t an ounce as neutral as him.

You dragged the back of your hand up his calf, your knuckles grazing the soft stubble of his legs.

“I have been unfair to you, haven’t I?” He asked, caressing your head with his clean hand, tipping your chin upward. “I’m sorry, Kitten.” He said, holding your gaze. “I’ve missed you too, love.” He traced your lips. “I’ve missed making love to you.”

“I’ve missed you so much.” Your hand reached his crotch, scratching his thighs through the fabric of his trousers. “I’ve been wanting you all week, but i didn’t want to bother you. I kept reminding myself that you were busy, that I just needed to last a few days until it was the weekend and you could be all mine.” You bent down and kissed his knee. “But it took a toll on me, not hearing from you. Not having you near.” You pressed your face to his lower inner thigh. “You didn’t even say you love me.” You mumbled under your breath, feeling a knot in your throat.

“Oh, ____, love.” He bent down, trying to drag your face away from his knee, keeping you from hiding yourself. “I love you, ____. I love you, Kitten.” He kissed your forehead. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you, baby. I’m sorry I didn’t tell remind you.” He cupped your jaw and pressed your mouth to his. “I love you, Kitten. I’ll tell you as many times as you need it, baby.”

“I love you too, Yoongi.” You murmured against his lips. “I’m sorry for being like this.” You said. It was a flashback to all the times you had to beg your ex to declare his feelings to you, to all the times you had had to ask him to love you.

“Nothing to be sorry about, Kitten. Absolutely nothing, my love.” He whispered close to you face. “I’m not your ex, baby. I’m here for you.” He kept stroking your cheek. “If we keep going here we’re gonna make a mess, Kitten.”

“Is there any reason why we shouldn’t?” You asked, quiet and mischievous.

“I usually meet the guys here to record demos.” He objected.

You frowned. "It's not like I'm going to cause irreversible damage."

He pouted and nodded. Fair enough. “So…"

"Yoongi, please, I need to feel you in my mouth." You whined, biting your lower lip.

He chuckled, sitting upright. "You sure, Kitten?"

"Yeah, I'm sure, now stand up and take off your trousers please." You said, tugging at the fabric.

He snickered and pushed his chair back enough to stand in front of you and roll down his slacks. He sat closer to the edge of the chair and you tugged at the hem, finally removing his trousers completely. Now you were free to make him open wide and kneel between his legs.

You suckled the skin of his inner thigh, your hands skimming his calves. At the moment, your toy was laying between your thighs, switched off as you waited for the best moment to bring it into the picture. "Do you want me?" You asked, looking at him from under your eyelashes, batting them slowly, your lips curled up in a cute pout.

"Of course I do, Kitten. I'm so hard for you baby." He moaned, stroking himself. He lowered the tip so that it was closer to your lips.

"Can I?" You murmured, almost desperate.

"Yes, Kitten. It's yours, love, you know it." He said gently, longing for you so ardently and so composedly.

You licked his slit with delicate manners. You looked like the elegant cat you had reminded him from day one. And then your lips wrapped up around him, sucking his bulbous head into your mouth, your cheeks wrapping so tight around him with the pressure of your sucking.

"Fuuuuck, Kitten, that's amazing, love. ____, you're gonna make me cum."

Grinning like the devil, you took the chance to swallow him almost entirely, leaving only an inch out, and making him roar with pleasure. "Yes, yes. That's one hell of a mouth, Kitten. That's so fucking perfect, ____. I fucking love you so fucking much, babe." You loved when he started to swear during sex, it turned you on in a manner you couldn't quite understand.

When you felt him start to pulsate in your mouth you pressed two fingers at the base and pulled him out.

"You good, Kitten?" He asked, panting, trying not to cry at the vulnerable situation you'd left him in. He was on the very edge, one more second and he could have cum. But he didn't press you, you just came up for air.

Little did he know it was absolutely intentional. And you intended to do it again. You played a poker face. "Yes, I'm good, why?"

"Just checking on you." He explained, stroking himself at the base.

This couldn't do. You caught his wrist gently, blocking it. "Lemme take care of it all, babe." You licked his tip seducingly. "You know I won't leave you hanging."

He smiled and threw his head back. "I am at your mercy, ____."

He had all the power in the world when he spoke your name. You eagerly returned to your ministration, this time blocking his palm on his tight, underneath yours, while his other hand kept toying with his neck and chest. Not that you noticed: you were too eager bobbing your head on his length, focusing on the lewd moans he emitted, on the swear words he growled against the headrest of his chair, where he was currently pressing the side of his face.

"Kitten." He whined, almost endearing in the delicate inflection of his voice.

He was going to cum. You pulled him out as fast as you could, quickly heading to his underside to lay the softest kisses of affection.

"Kitten." He growled, but this time it was no joke. He was getting worked up. A bit angry.

"What?"

"Stop teasing."

"Me! Teasing! How could I? My priority is my boyfriend, Yoongi, and his well-being”. You grinned, delivering a long lick from the base to his tip. “I’m going to make you feel so good.”

“Kitten, I swear, if you’re edging me I’m going to make you pay for it.” He growled, fighting your grip on his hand.

You gripped his wrist harder. “This can go two ways, Yoongi. You let me do my thing on my terms, or I’m going to leave right in this second and go back home by myself tonight. Pick.” You used a tone so calm it sounded like the most sensual of threats.

He twisted his wrist gently, looking into your eyes, and lacing his fingers with yours, moving your joined hands to the armrest. With the other hand he gripped the edge of the chair behind his head. “Do your thing, Kitty cat.”

Smiling lasciviously, you placed open mouthed kisses to his inner thigh, moving from the left to the right side. You lifted your hand, previously on his lap, letting the edge of your nail draw a thin line from his hip to his knee to his ankle, where it met his sock. You were almost tempted to take it off and tease him there. Why not? You had the wipes to clean it afterward… Fuck it.

You caressed his ankle, teasing it with your nails.

“Kitten, that feels very good, love.” He moaned, squeezing your hand in his. “Want me to let go of your hand?” He asked.

“Maybe later.” You whispered, leaving sucking kisses at the base of his shaft. You blindly took off his sock. “Are you cold, baby?” You murmured softly.

“No, I’m shivering because it’s so good, love.” He praised you. “You are amazing, Kitten. Thank you so much for this, babe.”

You parted from his skin. “No need to thank me, Yoongles.” You licked his length. “I do it because I like it. Because it’s so good.” With your spare hand you tickled the underside of his foot, which had him tensing the muscles there, his whole leg jumping, trying to escape your sweet torture. “Too much?”

“Just… unexpected. Sensitive.” He hissed.

You removed your teasing fingernails.

“It’s– No, I liked it.” He clarified, his pretty face scrunched in a confused expression.

You smiled darkly. “I was thinking of this…” You placed your toy under his foot, switching it on on the lowest setting.

“Kitten. Fuck. Shit.” He growled. “What the hell!” He pressed his head against the back of the seat.

“Too much?” You asked, distancing it from his skin.

"No, good. God, Kitten. Just, please, your mouth." He begged.

You kissed his tip and swallowed him.

His back arched and his lips parted in a gasp. "Yes, love. Oh god."

The slight buzzing moved up towards his calf as you absentmindedly followed the outline of his leg. You were completely absorbed in pleasuring him with your mouth, squeezing him with your lips and tongue and stroking him with the tender skin of your cheeks.

"Please." He moaned, struggling under your assault. "Love you." He whined. "Let me." He was so hopeless, his broken thoughts exiting his mouth unfiltered.

You pulled him out, taking a deep breath, opening your eyes to look at him. "You look so pretty, Yoongi. You look so fucking high, babe.”

“Please,” he breathed, trying to grind up into your mouth.

“Come on, wait for me, Yoongi. I’m not done with you yet, baby.” You cooed, bringing the vibrator up to the inside of his knee, which made his leg start bouncing. Ever so gently, you brought the head of the bullet even closer to his inner thigh, making him swear under his breath. “I feel so good making you look like this,” you groaned, kissing his navel. “I know right now your head is so empty you’re only thinking about me. No drama going on inside your pretty head when I’m giving you head this good. ”

“Kitten, for the love of God.”

Just when you had reached his crotch with your toy-accidentally-turned-instrument-of-torture, you started again on the other side, from his knee. His hand was gripping yours viciously, his strong fingers constricting your knuckles with so much pressure you worried about him getting cramps right when you wanted him to feel only pleasure coursing through his body.

“I am begging you, Kitten. I ain’t too proud, please.” He howled, as you saw a glistening pearl of precum blossom on his slit. You immediately caught it with your tongue, using the occasion to suck his tip.

“Such a good boy. Lemme take care of you.” Your head lowered on him once more, this time not sparing an inch of him. Just as he quieted down from the deep moan he had just released, you moved the vibrator to the tender skin of his testicles, placing it there without pressure, which made the stimulation even more intense.

He growled your name. It was the most virile thing you had ever heard. You were ready to commit murder to hear him say it like that everyday for the rest of your life. The hand once tightly gripping the back of his chair was now hanging midair, as if ready to touch you. He caressed his sweaty fringe, combing his hair back and deciding on gripping the armrest instead of the back. You slipped him out once more and removed the vibrator.

He opened his eyes with the most pitiful expression he had ever made. “Kitten.”

“I know, baby, I just need to know if you want to cum in my mouth or if you have anything else in mind.” You said, tracing small circles with your thumb on the back of his hand.

He noticed that you were still wearing your nice shirt from work. “Chest.” He murmured.

You grinned. You had never allowed any man to do that to you. You hated the idea of it, but when you did it with Yoongi for the first time you just saw him lose his mind at it, stare at you in admiration, like you were the most beautiful thing in the world, and you just decided that the look on his face was a great prize for a relatively small sacrifice. Little did you know you would come to like it, the warm, sudden feeling of his semen sprinkling your naked skin, rolling down gently in the most erotic sort of massage you could ever dream of. Quickly, you let go of Yoongi’s hand, offering him the vibrator. “Hold it for me, baby?”

He simply nodded with a confused pout, his brain so fucked out that you giggled at how cute he looked. You undid a few buttons of your shirt to your stomach, then you stood up and took off your undershirt, slipping the thin straps off your arms through the hem of each sleeve and dragging the lower hem down from your waist, until you stepped out of it like a skirt. Yoongi looked a bit more lucid as you undid the clasps of your bra and removed the straps just like those of your undershirt, gripping the front of the bra and pulling it off from the opening of your shirt. Covered only in your white work shirt, you regained your vibrator from Yoongi’s obedient hand and joined your hand with his once more.

“Open it nice, I don’t wanna mess up the shirt.” He said, ever the caring, attentive one.

You slipped the shoulders off, the fabric slipping under your breasts and supporting them like some sort of a corset.

“Like this?” You asked.

He nodded. “Will you let me this time, please?” He said, his voice so fragile and broken that if you hadn’t already decided, he would have convinced you to offer him relief.

You let your actions speak. You started working the first few inches of his shaft, gently toying with the vibrator at the base, where his cock met his balls. His moaning soon became desperate, so incoherent that you doubted having one of the most talented rappers and songwriters in front of you. He looked like he didn’t know a word, like the best he could do were baby gurgles.

When you felt him begin to pulsate, you let him take the lead a little, choosing how deep he needed to go and how long he could keep going. You started teasing the underside of his cock with the side of the vibrator, running up and down the thick tendon there. “Kitten, I’m close.” He warned with a timbre so husky it almost scared you

You started going a bit faster with the up and down pattern of the toy. Your eyes were fixed on him when he started slowly moving his hips toward the edge of the chair with weak thrusts. He started opening and closing his mouth, gaping. His short groans became more frequent, getting higher and higher, his knuckles going white with how hard he was gripping his armrest.

“Now.” He said, letting go of the armrest, using his hand to pull out of your mouth while you scooted closer, offering him the skin of you bosom. Your inner walls began pulsating as he pushed his tip against the skin of your nipple, rubbing it while at the same time he gently pushed your hand and the toy aside to stroke the base. He kept licking his lips, delivering those small thrusts into his fist just as you moved the tip of the vibrator to the head of his cock, teasing the frenulum. He groaned and began moving faster, his grunts getting quicker until he finally screamed your name.

The first shot was usually the messiest, the pressure so high it often reached your neck and chin, but this time it stayed on your breast, probably because Yoongi was pressing up into you and the toy. You moaned yourself when the vibrator touched your nipple, Yoongi laughing gently and calling your name when he realised you were paying for this too, that you too were vulnerable, and that probably you were turned on enough to let him eat you out and possibly cum inside you before you both headed to his place for a hot meal and a shower. Not necessarily in that order.

He spilled twice more on your breastbone and your other breast before he calmed down, reaching for the toy and switching it off. “Kitten. I swear to God, I’m gonna die because of you.” He panted, heavily gasping for air.

Still no trace of the mighty rapper, just one very normal, very lovely young man.

With a fingertip you collected a drop that was dangerously rolling down towards your shirt. “A good way to go.”

“It would be sort of embarrassing to explain.” He blushed, looking at you sucking at his cum on your fingertip. “Come here.” He murmured, patting his thighs. “Can you straddle me?” He asked.

“Why don’t we move to the sofa?” You asked.

He nodded, using your still joined hands to help you up on your feet. As you both stood up, you found yourself face to face, however his eyes moved downwards, to the wetness on your boobs. Bending his head, he cupped both with his palms, cradling the underside in his hands before pushing his lips to your nipple, his tongue lashing out to lick away at his release. Still needy, he moved to the other side, cleaning the other stain too.

Your knees wobbled. He smirked. “Sofa.” However when he reached the black leather piece he noticed the mess you had left behind. “You’d better fix it. Immediately.” He reprimanded.

You hang your head low between your shoulders, hiding from his scolding. You put your toy on top of its pouch, fishing a couple wet wipes to clean the cushion properly, as you bent at the waist to check for the results, you felt his hand smack your ass heavily. “You’re lucky it’s not suede or you’d be fucked by now.” He stood behind you and bent over your spine, adhering to your backside. “And not in the nice way.” He stood up again. “Stay like this, Kitten, don’t you dare move.”

You heard the sound of the lid of your wipes coming off, then the sound of fabric. You didn’t dare move. Yoongi was very likely to look for revenge now, and you already had a high price to pay. In your peripherals you noticed him rubbing the wet wipe all over your vibrator, cleaning it up.

You knew it was your turn now. You just had to hope he was feeling merciful. He bent over you. “Stay put and it’ll be okay, love.” He said with lethal kindness. You heard a gentle thud to the floor, shorty followed by another. “I am kneeling behind you, Kitten. Are you okay with me eating you out like this?”

He was so attentive: it felt like he had a list of all your triggers memorised in his mind; he was always so careful when it came to your potential traumas and insecurities. You weren’t new to receiving oral sex, however to you sometimes it felt very intimate and your worries kept you from freeing your mind and enjoying the experience fully.

“It’s okay.” You mewled.

“You can stop me anytime, love.” He said softly, kissing the back of your thighs, licking the thin stretch marks there. He loved all those small signs, the way they showed the tide of your skin, the way it made sense, the way you looked realer than anything he’s ever dreamed. He was in love with all your freckles and moles, wrinkles, the squishy part of your belly and waist and hips, the little hairs on your navel. He felt real when with you. He felt a little bit less surrounded by that artificial, polished world that looked like a simulation. He felt like he was allowed some small chance of normality, of reality with you. No skinny models with made-up personality, no fame or ego, just being two people facing each other, telling each other how it feels to be human.

Throughout all of his meditation he delivered small bites and kisses on the skin of your thighs and ass, tracing the outline of your labia, enjoying the plush softness.

You moaned out his name, pressing into him. “I know I’ve been bad, just… Please.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologise for.” He murmured, kissing your slit. “I deserved it.” He licked you slowly, from your mound to your entrance, the tip of his tongue digging in and collecting the wetness oozing out of you. “I neglected you.” He licked you again, nuzzling the raw skin of your inner labia with his lips. He kept his lips there, breathing softly through his mouth. “I love you, Kitten.” He kissed you there. “Love you so much, baby.” He murmured before you heard the buzz of the vibrator. He wasn’t toying around with you: he wrapped his arm around your leg, nuzzling the toy against your folds until he heard you whine. "Found it?" He asked, referring to your clit.

"Right there." You moaned.

He flattened his tongue against your folds, rolling it until they were spread wide, exposing your most tender nerves to the violent vibrations.

"Yoongi, I'm gonna cum." You whimpered, pressing yourself into him.

He wanted you to. He didn't care, couldn't care less of the amount of times you edged him earlier: he wanted to see you undone. He wished he could tell you, however he felt like it was more important for his mouth to stay on your cunt. He wanted you to know that you were allowed, that he wasn't going to deny you. He simply reached for your hand, placing his on top of yours on the cushion. Suddenly you started grinding your hips, riding his tongue, your free hand wrapping around his wrist, helping him place the bullet where you needed it. The fact that you were almost silent, holding your breath and gasping every time he spread your slick to the apex of your labia, so that the vibrator could slide more comfortably.

Your high hit you like a tide, your knees buckling underneath you, Yoongi's hand leaving yours so he could use his arm to stabilise you. Your hand on his wrist invited him to remove the toy, your position not safe and steady enough to allow any type of overstimulation, meanwhile his tongue battled with the contractions of your inner wall as he slipped it in just enough to stimulate the small muscle at the back, where you were always most responsive. He felt proud at knowing these small tricks, these little details that he had discovered with keen exploration and observation. Every body has their shortcuts to pleasure, though not all people are the same. He had learnt that some things that set his exes on fire to you were completely indifferent, meanwhile stuff that his exes refused could turn you into putty in his hands.

"Yoongi, that's okay.” You moaned, slipping away from him. He parted from your skin, gently pressing a kiss to your labia.

"Are you okay, Kitten?" He asked before running his hand to your breasts, cupping one softly, secretly searching for your heartbeat.

"I think I'm a little shook." You giggled. "It was… Very intense." You exhaled and laughed.

He kept kissing your thighs. You knew that that meant something. "I wanna try something but if it's too much we can stop here." He spoke delicately, his lips tickling your skin.

"Now I'm curious." You said, tired but mischievous still.

"Lemme show you." You heard him shuffle around a bit as he removed his sweater and placed it on the floor. He just hoped he wouldn't make a mess. From his kneeling position he shifted and sat on the oversized garment, thanking God that it wasn't as cold as he expected. He reclined his head on the seat of the sofa as your gaze met his.

"Am I going to ride your face?" You asked with a knowing smirk.

"Smart kitty." He said, mirroring your expression. "Knees on the cushion. Come on babe."

Shaking your head and smiling, you followed his order, your hands looking for support on the back of the sofa. "I'm afraid I'm gonna crush you." You said, even though you loved looking at him like this. His hair was a mess around him, his eyes so dark and intense that it felt like he was ready to drag you to hell and back with himself.

“It’s okay, you’re small. I can help you.” He said, placing his hands on your butt, squeezing. “I’m happy to help.” He grinned and you grinned back at him. You loved that both your brains shared the same perverted paths following the same dirty cues. “I wanna suck your clit, but I don’t know if it’ll work for you since you had the vibrator there.” He said, spreading small bites on your thighs.

“It’s okay. No need to make me cum.” You reasoned, openly refusing that a sexual experience can be successful only if culminating in an orgasm.

“I hate how you’re always ready to give up on your pleasure.” He said, getting argumentative. “I’m doing this to please you.”

“You can please me without making me cum.” You argued back. “It’s not like— Holy fuck!” You screamed, your shoulders giving out. His arm holding your ass up while his other hand held the tip of the vibrator against the underside of his tongue. “You’re fucking wicked.” You swore as your clit disappeared between his upper lip and his pink, filthy tongue. “Fuck Yoongi, you’re the best.”

He exhaled through his nose in some sort of a snicker, pushing on the small button to increase the vibration.

“Oh God. Yoongi— Fuck, like that.” You squealed as you felt him suck you in with wet, slurping noises. “Love.” You said, worry veining your voice. “I’m gonna make a mess.” You warned before raising your hips, parting from his mouth. “Wait.”

He removed the vibrator, opening and closing his mouth quickly before speaking to retrain his tongue muscles. “It’s okay.” He breathed, brushing his cheek against your thigh.

“You’re gonna get wet and smell like sex on the way back home.” You reminded him.

“I can rinse in the bathroom quickly, plus we’re driving by ourselves in the car.” He murmured. “We can if you want to.” He said, reassuringly.

“Get back in place then.” You teased, gently pressing yourself down on his pout and grinding coquettishly. He laughed with his mouth close, digging his fingers into your ass, which made you raise your hips with a small jump.

“I love you so fucking much, Kitten.” He murmured. “Don’t you dare forget that, ____.” He switched the vibrator on, all the way up. “Ready, kitty cat?”

“Bring it on, mister.”

He laughed and got to work. You were pretty sure that the moans you were emitting, joined with the wet, sucking sound that came from Yoongi’s tongue on your drenched clit would probably expose the two of you to the whole floor, and possibly more.

If you had been any more lucid you would have thought of poor mr. Kang guarding the building from the reception, but probably — hopefully — he was far enough not to hear a thing.

Yoongi sped up his game, willing and ready to bring you to the edge once more. He reduced the pressure on your clit, allowing the vibration to travel faster, with less resistance and more power. He shifted his grip from his plush upper lip to the edge of his front teeth, simply grazing your nub as he caressed it with his tongue.

“Yoongi. So sensitive.” You gasped through a muffled moan, your hand pressing against your mouth as you lowered your gaze. He was there, eyes closed, enjoying the feel of you, focusing on each movement, on the taste of you, on your sounds, your heat. Opening his eyes, he winked, realising that he had one last trick up his sleeve. He started brushing the vibrator up and down the underside of his tongue, the act mildly resembling a thrusting motion that had your hips undulating, your breath stopping in your throat.

The high built and built so that when it snapped, you didn’t even realise it, submerging you like a tide, like a small boat in a maelstrom: you felt each roll of your hips, each movement of the vibrator in that straight line underneath Yoongi’s tongue. The high was there, but you still hadn’t felt the peak. You were ready to give up when he slid the bullet off his tongue and into your entrance, pressing it against the tender spot of your vagina, rubbing it as his lips latched to your clit.

“Fuck. Cumming.” You whined before biting your palm. His hand smacked your ass, repeatedly, delivering four or five slaps as if spurring you into riding his face. When he felt your release spill, he stretched his tongue, trying to collect as much wetness as he could, using the bridge of his nose to tease your clit while his mouth was busy. You gushed two, maybe three times before you removed your hand from your mouth, squealing his name and a string of swear words, your hand reaching down, trying to slap his toy-holding hand from between your legs. He understood your gesture and parted from your cunt entirely, letting you recover from the experience while he shut the buzzing device.

“I need in, sweet thing.” He murmured, climbing up clumsily and a little bit helplessly. You rose to your knees, letting him sit on the cushion, helping him fit against your body. “I’m gonna slide in, Kitten. I just need in. Promise.” He kept his sentences short, both for his urgency and your almost shut down brain. Gripping himself steady, he slipped in flawlessly, your drenched walls welcoming his shape, clinging to it and making him swear with how tight you felt right after an orgasm.

“Kitten, so tight.” He groaned, his face falling forward, hiding in the crook of your shoulder. His hips thrusted up while his hands toyed with your breasts, sliding into the shirt you were still wearing. His whole face felt damp against your neck, and you didn’t know if it was sweat or your juices or his saliva as he began drawing a pattern of hickeys on the top swell of your boob. “I can’t hold on.”

“Cum inside, please.” You murmured into his ear, licking the shell and biting the lobe, your hand gently cradling his skull as you enjoyed his grunts and pants against your throat.

As he hammered into you from below, you felt him reaching your cervix, your inner contractions making him come undone, his hands gripping your waist and angrily pushing you onto his lap. The squelching, crude sound, mixed up with his deep groans and the smacking of skin made you close your eyes as you registered every detail. You would come back to this night, when he would be gone, and you would relive it entirely, from start to finish, from the loneliness and coldness of being alone on the sofa, to the anger and revenge of the armchair, to the selfless, devoted attentions you had received twice on the sofa again, and finally this boy-man, hiding against your chest as he vulnerably withered before you.

“God, Kitten.” He breathed out chuckling. “Thank you so much, love. You’re perfect.” He murmured, caressing your back.

“Thanks to you too.” You spoke softly.

“I’m sorry for the last one. I got carried away, I didn’t make you—”

“If you say the verb ‘cum’ I am going to slap your pretty cheeks.” You threatened weakly. “You can do that in a few hours. Wake me up at three am and make sweet love to me.” You propositioned. “Though if I fall asleep, I might sleep for the next ten hours with no chances of being woken up.”

“We need sleep. Both of us.” He hugged you, searching for your hand, twining your fingers together. “But first we need a shower. And we need to rinse before we leave.”

“Closest toilet?” You asked, groaning a little at the idea of getting up, cleaning yourself and all the rest.

“Two rooms away.” He mumbled, his eyes droopy, his head leaning into your shoulder. “Are you feeling okay about everything? I know I pushed it when I left you alone and when I went down on you.” He commented.

“I think we cleared up the air about you ignoring me. It reminded me of when I was with my ex, which is exactly the reason why I bought the toy. He wasn’t happy I used it, but he never said anything or kept me from searching for my own pleasure. Sure though, this was my first time using it with someone. I’ve had a few people before as I said, but it was never… this.” You said, referring to your whole situation with Yoongi.

“How did you feel about how I went down on you?” He asked, always sympathetic.

“I loved it. But that vibrating tongue thingie was sooo kinky. How the hell did you come up with that?” You complimented him.

He chuckled. “I wanted to suck you and I wanted it to be a bit hardcore. It tickled like hell though.” He kissed your cheek. “I didn’t know it would work for you. I had never tried it before.”

“The vibrator was a big ally tonight.”

“Definitely the highlight of the night.” He conceded.

You leaned down and sucked his lower lip in your mouth, releasing it with a snap. “I love tasting myself on your mouth.”

He cupped your cheek. “You were amazing on that chair, love.” He praised you, making sure that he gratified you for something that your previous significant other had awfully taken for granted. “I’ll never forget these two covered in me.” He said, bending down to kiss each of your breasts.

“Is your neck okay?” You asked, worried about the way he had reclined his neck before while you sat on his face. “Are you cold?”

“My neck is a bit sore, but some hot water and stretching will solve it. And yeah, I’m a bit cold but it’s okay. Let's fix this place, get dressed and head home, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

"Then get up, lazy cat." He teased, poking your sides.

"I'm sleeping on the couch tonight." You murmured, teasing him as you raised your hips, getting off him.

“You’re sleeping in my bed and we both know it.” He helped you on your feet.

Your lips bent downward as you nodded. “I hate it when you’re right.”

As you turned and bent to gather your wipes he stared at his cum dripping out of your hole, staining your thighs. “Such a shame you’re in love with me,” he replied. His hands gripped your hips, blocking you while his tongue moved between your folds, delivering tiny licks with the tip of his tongue before covering your labia in soft kisses. "All clean, Kitten." He murmured, caressing your naked legs.

"You're the worst." You teased, before his short nails caused goosebumps on your skin.

He stood up behind you. "Fuck, look at this mess." He said, looking at the sofa. "Do we have enough wipes?"

"Oh God."

"No one's gotta know." He commented, and once more you were partners in crime, hiding your thousandth mischief.

You headed for the chair, throwing him his underwear and trousers.

He caught them.

"Bottle of water?" You asked.

"Fridge." He pointed as he slid his boxers on.

You picked up your undershirt, glad that it was a cheap deal, and headed to the small fridge, where you found the water, opening the bottle and pressing your balled up garment against the rim, wetting the fabric.

Next you knelt by the sofa, getting to work.

Yoongi lit a scented candle on the low table, spraying some perfume with a certain desperate motion. "Jeongguk will know. He can smell anything."

You shook your head while you poured some more water on your improvised rag. "Dammit we fucked up."

"Shut up, it was your idea." He taunted you while he found his sweater on the floor, checking it quickly before putting it on with a shiver. "Freezing. Shit."

Once you deemed the damage mostly solved, you grabbed your wipes and used one to eliminate the traces of the water. Checking that no stain remained, you moved on to dressing yourself.

"Have you seen my bra?" You asked.

"No." He murmured, offended, just as you noticed a familiar frill coming out of his bag.

"Why is my bra in your bag?"

"Your bra is not in my bag."

You raised an eyebrow, hooking said frill with your finger and fishing the garment out of his personal tote. "What is this?"

"A fancy hat." He said, barely holding back a laugh.

"Oh, so you're gonna wear that later when we head home?" You asked as you pressed one cup onto his head, the other hanging from the side while you clasped it around his face.

He simply shook it off, bending to kiss your lips. "Don't wear it." He whispered on your mouth.

"I won't." You replied, kissing it once more before placing it back in his bag.

Wearing your panties and buttoning your shirt, you left a couple buttons undone for his viewing pleasure.

He fixed the last few things, opening your coat and helping you wear it.

He fixed his own jacket and caught hold of your waist, placing you in front of him and wrapping his scarf around your neck and face. He kissed your forehead sweetly.

"Get your shoes, I'll do a quick checkup."

While you exited the room, he noticed a small glimmering coming from the crevice between the two cushions. Pushing his fingers in, he managed to pinch the object and pull it out.

He snickered, placing his small treasure before his eyes. "You served well, soldier. You deserve a night of rest. I'll recharge you and keep you safe until next time."

"Who you talking to?" You asked from the corridor.

"Nothing." He placed the vibrator in his pocket. "Coming." He blew on the candle and closed the door.

———————————————

"Hyung, you look well-rested." Jimin greeted him the following morning as he entered the training room.

"I bet he does." Namjoon quipped.

"HE FUCKED KITTEN IN THE STUDIO!" Hoseok announced. "Sorry, couldn't hold it in, you know I can't handle secrets." He said with a sad face, looking at Namjoon.

"Good for him." Taehyung replied.

Jimin looked amused while Jin shook his head, “Is that a good reason to be late, Yoongi? We've been waiting fifteen minutes–"

"Hyung, you arrived two minutes ago." Taehyung replied quietly while Jin shouted, "Shame on you! The disrespect!"

Jeongguk neared Yoongi, patting his shoulder. "I'm sorry I rat you out. I came in last night because you weren't at the dorms. I didn't know. I accidentally said it to Namjoon, Hoseok heard, everyone knows." Guk shrinked in his shoulders. "Sorry." He chirped.

However it was still too early and Yoongi was still too fucked out to care. "Let's just kill this choreo. We better finish soon 'cause I've got Kitten home in my bed to go back to."

Namjoon smirked. "Let's get it."

#bangtan sonyeondan #bts smut #bts imagine #bts headcanons #bangtan smut #bts scenario #yoongi x reader #yoongi imagine #min yoongi smut #yoongi scenario #min yoongi #yoongi fanfic #yoongi reaction #yoongi one shot

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handy-dandy-monster-candy · 4 years ago

Text

Magnolio, part One

Rating: SFW Length: 1583 Pairing: Cursed Male Werewolf x GN Reader

A commission for my dearest friend, Ana.

xxx

You don’t know what it is about the old mirror in the antique shop that calls to you. It’s squat and ugly, and its silver frame is so tarnished that the designs are all but unrecognisable. Still, you watch anxiously as the cashier wraps it in recycled newspaper, and you buckle its seat belt in the car beside you on the ride home. Once there, you break out the supplies you usually use to help your grandmother polish her silver cutlery, and with a bit of patience and a lot of elbow grease late into the evening, you manage to buff off the patina and reveal the intricate designs that had been lost to age.

Wolves and flowers. What a strange and beautiful combination.

You make yourself a sandwich for dinner and pick away at it as you admire the new polish of the mirror, but something shifting in the reflection makes you frown and turn around to inspect your surroundings. What had just moved? Finding nothing, you look back into the mirror, only to find the face of a man staring back at you. You scream and flinch hard enough to throw your sandwich into the ceiling fan above you, its contents flying around the room as it hits the blades.

“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me,” you hear a trembling voice say, and you scream again when you realise that it’s coming from the mirror. “Stop screaming! It’s only me!”

“Who the hell is ‘me’?” you squeak, voice shrill from hysteria. You’re probably knocked out somewhere. Maybe you’ve fallen down the stairs and got a hard whack to your head. It is the only reasonable explanation for why there is suddenly a man testing the barrier of glass between you and the mirror.

The mirror.

The mirror itself is now reflecting a room that is completely unrecognisable to you, panelled with rich mahogany and decorated in a very austere style. The man in the mirror is possibly in his 30’s, with long, black hair and deep brown eyes. His light brown skin is exposed at the throat and collar by a white shirt that froths lace at the cuffs of the sleeves and cinches in at the waist with the high waistline of his dark breeches, but that is as far as you can see in the view of the mirror. The man in the mirror peers curiously around your living area, frowning his bemusement.

“Am I in your home?” he asks, and he doesn’t wait for you to reply before going on. “Thank God. I was so sick of looking at the back of a cloth. I’m Magnolio. You are?”

“Dreaming,” you murmur, watching Magnolio as though he were a sideshow attraction. “I’m dreaming. I must be.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t count on it,” Magnolio demurs. “I’m sure your dreams are more exciting than an old man in a mirror. What a charming carpet. Is it new?”

“Uh, thrifted,” you say, startling as a slice of tomato unsticks from the ceiling and plops down by your shoe. Now that you took in the scene, you had some cleaning up to do. There was mayo on the ceiling fan, and bread stuck to the window. Swearing, you begin to gather the remains of your poor sandwich. Even if this is a dream, you aren’t going to leave a future dream-you with a mess to clean up.

“You missed a bit of green,” says Magnolio, pointing out a piece of lettuce stuck to the leg of a chair.

“Thanks,” you mutter, eyeing the man as you add the leafy green to your sad little pile in your hands. Closer up, you can see a pale scar beneath one of his eyes, ragged and poorly healed at the time of injury. You have never been one for dreams, and this one is taking the cake. “Magnolio, you said?”

“Yes,” he sighs, sounding dejected. “Surname Alinari, if that means anything at all these days.”

It doesn’t. Not to you, anyway. Still, you sigh and sit down in front of the mirror after disposing of the sandwich and washing your hands, staring up into Magnolio’s face. “So, what are you?”

“How rude. I’m Italian!”

“No, you idiot. Why are you in the mirror?”

“Oh,” says Magnolio, the wind that had momentarily entered his sails disappearing. “Would you believe I was cursed?”

“I think I can make allowances for strange stories if they’re told to me by a ghost in a mirror.”

“I’m no ghost!” Magnolio scowls. “I’m very much alive. I’m just stuck in this… other world.”

“So this isn’t just a two way mirror? Like a walkie-talkie?”

“A walkie-whatie?”

“Never mind,” you say, shaking your head. “What I’m seeing behind you isn’t on earth?”

“I think it might be,” Magnolio replies, caught off guard by the question. “It certainly behaves the way the regular world does, except that something like a barrier won’t let me past the gardens.”

“Huh. That sucks.”

Magnolio nods uncertainly at your slang, frowning down at you. “I’m surprised that you’re taking this so well. Most people try to break the mirror by now.”

“How many people have you met?”

“A few. I’ve been trapped in here for over a hundred years. I lost track.”

“You don’t look like you’re over a hundred.”

“Well, it appears that I remain the age at which I was trapped, so far as I can tell. I can’t die while I’m here. I’ve tried.”

Silence falls between you. Both of you shift uncomfortably at Magnolio’s admission, until you finally sigh and decide enough is enough. “Do you want a tour? Even if this is a dream, it’s only polite.”

Magnolio laughs softly, nodding in a way that made his long hair fall into his eyes. “I’d like that, I think.”

After assuring you that the mirror can’t be broken, you heave Magnolio and his mirror all through your house, and what you plan on being a basic tour turns into an in-depth explanation of your indoor plumbing and electricity. You learn that he was from a small village in Sicily in the early 1800’s, so you figure you have your work cut out for you when it comes to catching him up on the times, but Magnolio stops you before you can get mired in the details.

“I’m caught up on history,” he tells you, and he shifts his own mirror to show you a wall of books in the panelled room. “He made sure to give me things to do, in case he didn’t get back in time to undo the spell.”

“Who?” you ask, and Magnolio’s face falls.

“My late husband,” he says, absently fiddling with a pendant at his chest. “He sealed me in this mirror when the villagers came for me. He was meant to free me before the night was out, but the villagers killed him. They couldn’t break the mirror or get to me, so they buried it with him instead. Then his grave was robbed and I was taken to France, and then to Austria, and finally I ended up here.”

“Jesus,” you mutter, ruffling your own hair. “That’s heavy. How do I get you out of this mirror, then?”

Magnolio perks up, hand stilling at his breast. “You would free me?”

You shrug. “I mean, I guess. It would be pretty shitty of me to buy your mirror, learn about you, and decide you’re someone else’s problem.”

“Oh,” Magnolio sighs, smiling brilliantly in a way that makes his eyes crinkle. “I would be forever indebted to you. You must kiss me under the light of the moon. Then I will be free.”

You heave a beleaguered breath. “I hope my neighbours don’t see this,” you grumble as you haul his mirror outside, looking around for strangers as though you were smuggling black tar over the border. When you confirm that you are, in fact, alone, you sigh and twitch towards Magnolio’s mirror. “Well. Pucker up, Mags.”

Magnolio frowns. “‘Mags’?”

“Just kiss me, man,” you plead, pressing your lips against the mirror’s surface.

Startled into movement, Magnolio closes the distance between you, planting his lips over yours through the mirror. For a moment, your lips feel warm, and your heart beats wildly in your chest at the thought of watching a man emerge from his centuries-long entrapment.

But nothing happens.

“Uh.”

“Oh,” says Magnolio, deflating like a sad-looking balloon after a child’s birthday party. “That was supposed to work.”

“Is it because it’s not ‘true love’s kiss’ or whatever?” you ask, using your sleeve to wipe away the smudge left behind by your lips.

“I don’t know,” Magnolio replies, and to your horror, his voice sounds thick with tears. As you watch, he sniffles and a tear slips free from his thick lashes, running down his face and onto his shirt. It is quickly followed by many more, and you realise that the mirror doesn’t have to be broken for this poor man to shatter.

“Hey, hey,” you say, breathless as you carry the mirror back inside. “Maybe it’s just because it’s not the full moon. We’ll try again in a week or two—whenever it is. Alright?”

“Alright,” Magnolio burbles, using his sleeves to wipe at his face even as more tears slide down his flushed cheeks. “We’ll try again. I have your word?”

“You have my word,” you say, and thank your lucky stars that you’ll be waking from this dream sooner rather than later.

#exophilia #exophilia fic #monster romance #monster boyfriend #werewolf #werewolves #werewolf boyfriend #Magnolio #My work

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suchalonelysunflower · 4 years ago

Text

If it means a lot to you (a.i)

Pairing: Ashton Irwin X Reader

Summary: Songfic based on the song “If it means a lot to you” by A Day to Remember. You haven’t heard from Ashton in weeks, could you endure all the pain while he’s on tour or it would become too much?

Warnings: ANGST, strong language, overthinking and anxiety. Also some grammatical mistakes (English is not my first language, I’m sorry)

Word Count: 2.6 K

Author’s Note: I was feeling so angsty today and this was the product of me pouring out my feelings into a fic. Reblogs, coments and feedback are always welcome and apreciated! I would love to hear your thoughts 💙 Hope you like it and Happy reading🦋

My Materialist

It felt good to be on the stage again. It felt more than good, actually. The sound of screaming fans, calling out your names in pure ecstasy as one by one the songs pass and reverberates throughout the whole stadium, or arena or a simple, yet packed, venue. The adrenaline that cursed through the veins of each one of them as they gave their all, feeling how the base makes the entire stage shake with rhythms they know by memory and would never get tired off. It felt good to be on the stage again, to be on tour again. But not everyone gets to have everything they want.

You were sitting on your sofa, getting lost in thought as the TV played some old episodes of your favorite show as background noise of your own pity party. It’s been two months since Ashton went away on tour with his band again, and even though you knew this made him happy, you always hated when he had to leave.

The feeling of loneliness crept in two weeks and a half ago, when he started to miss your calls and texted you only once a day. You knew he was busy, you knew he must be tired, but so are you.

You understand that this is his job, you’ve been through this before, but the separation was never easy. You always worried about his safety, how he’s dealing with stuff and if he ever misses you or if he had someone else he’d rather be with while you were away and tucked under your shared sheets in LA. He always came through though, pushing those thoughts away by reassuring his love, either by facetime or a simple call. But you haven’t seen him or heard of him in so long that you couldn’t help but drown yourself in a pity parade for one. You miss him, you need him. And it’s still so long until you could see each other again.

A notification on your phone pulls you away for a while, it takes a few moments before you realize that it was in fact your phone and not a trick of your mind. You jump right to it, thinking, hoping that it would be Ashton trying to call you or even a simple text. The beating of your heart ran like a horse before you could even register that it was just a notification from instagram, you just saw his name and quickly swiped to open it.

@ ashtonirwin: Thank you for singing with us xx

The post was simple, you could see the crowd going wild as Andy took a photo of the boys in their element. Ashton was smiling behind his drum kit, taking in the scenery of a thousand screaming fans that were there just to see them, to sing with them. And it hurt you.

It hurts not being there. Not being the one that was at the other end of the smile, and oh, how you miss that smile.

You opened the camera roll, forgetting to put a like on the post as your mind decided to add some salt to the wound. You scrolled a few pictures down until you found what you were looking for: A video of Ashton.

His smile was clear even before you pressed play. You remember the day he sent that to you, it was at the beginning of the tour and you were feeling a little needy, so he decided to send you this while you were asleep. He knew it would make you feel better once you woke up. And it did.

It was a simple video of him just talking to the camera, but it always made you feel better and you hope this time it will as you pressed play.

“Hey, darling” Ashton said with a smile so wide you could see every dimple and wrinkle on his face “I hope you’re good tonight, I know you don’t feel right when I’m leaving… It’s not easy for me either, being away from you and being unable to kiss you and cuddle you like we do. I miss you, dear”

The sadness in his voice moved you and you wished you were there with him, doing your best to push that sadness away. “Tour’s going great so far, I really wish you were here to see it. But you will be, one day and it will be awesome. But I can’t come back home till they’re singing, and oh, how amazing it is to hear them sing back at us, it’s almost as beautiful as to hear you sing to me one of our songs, even if it’s to mock our oldest songs” His smile lit up the screen ashe giggled “Just wait till I get home, baby. It won’t be long now, I swear. I love you”

“I love you” You whispered to the face on the screen as the video stopped.

The tears were rolling down your face and you couldn’t do anything to stop it. The video always helped to make you feel better but, somehow, it just made missing him worse.

It wasn’t enough, you needed him. You needed him and he was MIA, the only news you get from him are from social media and you couldn’t handle it anymore.

You couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same.

Ashton was laying in his bunk bed, smiling as he scrolled down twitter to read the reactions to tonight’s concert. It was one of their best and he was very proud of the energy they put on stage for the world to see.

He always enjoyed tour life, visiting new cities and countries every night, giving his all in all the concerts and spending time with his best friends. It was all he ever wanted since he was a kid and now he was able to experience it.

“Hey, Ash!” Luke called his attention from the bunk across the small hall “Could you tell Y/N that Sierra wants to talk? She said it was something about a recipe but it seems like she can’t get in touch with them”

Ashton frowned, you were never the one to shy away from their friends, always being the most social one of the two of them “Uh, yeah. Sure man”

“Thanks, and tell Y/N we are missing them, it’s been too long since we saw each other”

‘It has been a long time’ Ashton thought, or at least it seemed like it because he was sure he sent a text earlier today and…

Ashton’s expression froze when he saw that he didn’t text you today, or yesterday or the day before that. He didn’t even respond to your last text.

Y/N: Tell me something sweet to get me by.

How long ago was that? Why didn’t he notice before?

A feeling of guilt ran through him, feeling disgusted at himself for forgetting about you, the most important thing in his life. How could he? You must’ve been feeling low that day to text him something like that, he knew how much you hated when he had to leave. You didn’t text him after that, maybe you were okay now, but he still needed to talk to you, to apologize.

He sighed when he saw what time it was, now it wasn’t time for a facetime call, knowing that you were probably asleep by now. He would apologize to you in the morning.

Little did he know that you were still awake, sobbing and calling out his name through your cries.

You woke up when the sunlight hit your face. You furrowed your eyebrows at your surroundings, realizing that you fell asleep on the couch. Luckily it was a Saturday, so you had no other responsibilities other than crying yourself to sleep for maybe the tenth time in a row?

You knew it wasn’t fair, for you or for him, to be enduring this kind of pain. But if you meant a lot to him, why hasn’t he responded? or calling to check up on you? This place felt lonelier by the minute, his mugs were in the cupboard, some of his clothes were in the closet, his music room remains untouched and yet it seemed like he was never here at all to begin with, just a ghost of his memory floating around to remind you of what you were missing.

You felt the tears about to crash down again, but you had no energy left in your body to cry. You were exhausted, needy, lonely and down right miserable while the love of your life was living his best life without you in it.

Ashton was living his best life, but he still felt something was missing. He sat down on the couch the venue offered, it wasn’t as comfortable as he would expect but it didn’t matter. He knew he had to talk to you.

He has been a shitty boyfriend lately, he understood and hated that. You didn’t deserve to be pushed aside like he did and he felt awful. So, with his heart in his sleeve, hoping you’ll forgive him and that you were okay, he picked up the phone and called.

Ashton heard the beeping tone three times before you decided to answer “...Hey, sweety” You said with a sigh.

Ashton could tell you were sad, a punch in the guts hurt less than hearing your voice so small and defeated. “Hey, darling,” He said,making his tone a little bit more uplifting, thinking it might help “How are you? Sierra said that you weren’t answering your phone, is everything okay?”

Hearing his voice, his cheerful tone as if nothing has happened or as if this wasn’t the first time in weeks that you’ve heard of him, hurt more than you could ever expect. You felt silent tears rolling down your face as you contemplated what to say about that.

“I just-”

“Ash, we need you for soundcheck” A voice said on the other line.

Ashton raised his hand, annoyed at the interruption, asking the boys to wait a second. He needed to hear from you first. All three of the guys backed up immediately when they saw the serious expression on the drummer’s face.

“Sorry, love. I think the boys need me” He said, hoping you wouldn’t get mad.

“But, what about me?” You asked before you realized what was coming out of your mouth.

“What?” Ashton said with a concerning tone.

“I need you here, Ashton” You cried, unable to keep the tears at bay anymore “I need you here tonight, and I know that you don’t wanna be leaving and I get it, I swear I totally get it and I’m not trying to pressure you or anything, it’s okay that you want this”

Hearing you cry through the phone broke Ashton’s heart. He did this, he caused this. How could he neglect you like that?

“I want it but I don’t need it” He quickly reassured you.

“Yes, you want it. But I can’t help it, I-” Your voice shook “I just feel complete when you’re by my side. I know I can be needy sometimes and believe me, I hate that as much as you do, probably. But, Ash, I haven’t heard from you in weeks! Yes, a morning text now and then but sweety, I don’t think you understand how bad this hurts”

Ashton felt the tears burning in his eyes, your broken voice sounded like an echo in his head, making him wish he could go back and fix his mistakes, to take all your pain away.

“Do you know how hard it is to be in this house alone, not knowing if you are okay or if you miss me? I found myself walking around aimlessly, trying to hold on to the memory of you here, to even a hint that I wasn’t dreaming when I held you close because it’s been so long and I don’t think I can take it anymore. Knowing that you can’t come home till they’re singing, till everyone is singing back at you”

“B-baby-” Ashton said, not caring that he sounded desperate, because he was. He didn’t like where this conversation was going “Baby, I know I fucked up, big time. But don’t you ever doubt that you are the most important thing to me, I swear. Darling, if you-” He said, swallowing the lump in his throat “If you can wait till I get home, I swear that when tomorrow comes this will all be in our past”

You stared blankly ahead as you heard him say those things. It broke you to your core, but you knew what you had to do. It was the best for both of you.

“Ash, you know you can’t give me what I need. Not right now and I can’t ask that from you, I would never ask that from you and you know it. Even though you mean so much to me, I need you to be happy, I need to be happy and maybe we thought that we could find happiness together but Ash, this ain’t it”

“Darling, wait-”

“I love you, but I can’t wait through everything. I can’t keep crying myself to sleep every night wishing for a text, a call, a sign that you are okay. And I can’t ask you to give up your life just to be with me, we both know it’s not going to work and we’ll be miserable-”

“Is this really happening?” Ashton interrupted you.

He was pacing back and forth in the little room, tears falling freely as he understood the words you were trying to say. You were leaving him. You were leaving him and he couldn't blame you. He knew it was too much to ask but he hoped… if he had tried hard enough, if he hadn’t neglected you the way that he did and invalidating you by not acknowledging your feelings, maybe this wouldn’t be the outcome of his mistakes.

“I love you,” He pleaded.

“Ash…”

“No, Y/N!” I know, I fucked up but please! Please, darling, don't leave me” He begged “I swear I’ll never be happy again, not even if we stay friends so don’t even dare to say that. Y/N. I love you. I love you, darling. You are the love of my life and -” He choked, overwhelmed with grief of what he just lost.

“Ash, please don’t make it harder” You cried, silently as your heart broke in a thousand pieces “We knew it’d happen eventually”

“No we fucking didn’t! I didn’t! I want you in my life, Y/N. And I know I sucked at letting you see that but- I swear, if you can wait till I get home, I swear we can make this last, baby. Please”

You stayed silent, wanting to be able to believe him right now, but knowing this was for the best, even if it hurt, it’s what needed to be done so both of you could be happy. And you want nothing more than for him to be happy and free to do whatever he wants, even if it breaks your heart.

“Goodbye, Ash. I love you” You said, voice breaking at the end “I’ll always love you”

“Y/N, don’t-” He pleaded one last time before you ended the call “FUCK” He yelled, throwing the phone to god knows where.

He lost you.

Luke, Calum and Michael came running towards the room when they heard Ashton yell. However, they didn’t expect to find their friend sitting on the floor, sobbing as he started to hyperventilate.

“Mate, what happened?” Ashton took a big breath.

“I fucked up, Cal” He said with a voice as broken as his heart “I fucked up and I don’t know if I can fix it”

Part 2

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eryiss · 4 years ago

Text

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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yessoupy · 4 years ago

Text

i think i have to unstan harry styles.

best weekend of my life (so far)

it's been a week [a fucking year] and I still haven't posted my review. at this point y'all know the show was awesome. hannah is posting her pics after a week straight of actually working (let's take up a collection to hire hannah to go to harry shows and produce exclusive content for us, what do you say?). after a week [a YEAR] away from the harrie commune all I can say is.... I don't know if I can continue on this way without it. i might have to stop altogether. [somehow, i’ve made due.]

after the last show of the 2018 tour I had such a fierce feeling that I'd missed out on something I would have really loved. there was nothing to do for it, since it was my sister's wedding day, so I moved on pretty quickly. but I also made the decision that for harry's next tour, I was going to go all out.

my dudes, what a way to ring in the new era. [and present me needs to interject here that i think i knew that something was going to go horribly wrong in 2020. even with tickets in hand to such faraway shows as phoenix, denver, and raleigh, i could NOT book flights or hotels as late as february. i knew about coronavirus in late december because i was traveling abroad and acutely aware of travel warnings about wuhan province. and in early february we had our mardi gras party and franny showed up kind of sick and i hugged her but cautiously, mentally cataloguing her symptoms. so when it finally happened i think i was just ... resigned. and that’s why i wasn’t as upset as i would have been if nothing had changed from the time i started writing this review.]

this kind of show always seemed like something that happened to other people. getting the actual tickets was rather stressful (though not as stressful an experience as others had...) but once everything shook itself out i couldn’t even think about the weekend or else I’d implode. thank god for @chasm2018‘s organizational abilities.

we missed a measles exposure at LAX by 2 days (bless). my first harrie commune™ experience of the weekend was riding the connections shuttle to pick up @papiermachecat at terminal 6 like she was a conquering hero (she is). we rode the connections shuttle to pick up @stylesinthewild and found a little table at starbucks in the baggage claim to wait for the bay area harries to arrive in their rented minivan full of goodies.

we piled in and hannah got us to our two hotel rooms, one with three queen beds, and somehow we got to the forum twice, once to buy pre-show merch and then the final time for the fine line show. we all dressed up and then took just ONE picture. one.

you know how the show went. i’m trying to cover ground that the squad hasn’t already posted [a YEAR AGO]

here is the note I DM'd to harry the next morning, which i think sums everything up nicely:

thank you for the show last night at the forum. I flew in from Houston and met up with friends from all over, only one of whom I'd gotten to hug in real life prior to yesterday. today we're sharing beds and toothpaste and fond memories. thank you for being you and bringing us all together. 💜

i don’t remember WHEN i sent it, maybe 3am, but later that day i took an uber to a vegan tattoo artist’s backyard studio to get a planned tattoo that @papiermachecat had sketched for me and my impulse tattoo of a fine line around my left wrist. while i was doing that, the squad finished up eating breakfast with other harries and then went to stand in the pop-up shop line.

you’ve heard the line stories. i fucking LOVE standing in a line for something because of the people you meet. in front of us we had a personal DJ who’d play what people wanted to hear and airdropped a picture of harry’s dick from WMYB. we’d break off in pairs to go to CVS or visit other people we knew in line. and this hasn’t been written about before, but one of those times hannah and i were walking around the block we saw some men standing by some cars near the entrance and we kind of stopped.... and i think at the same time realized who we were looking at ... and after looking around and realizing that no one else in the fucking line recognized jeff azoff hannah went in for the kill. we thanked him for taking such good care of harry, answered questions he had for us, thanked him again, i had the presence of mind at the end to tell him our names, and we took the pop-up shop merch menus that hadn’t been passed out to anyone yet, and then walked back to our spot in line silently, processing that moment. sometimes i’ll think about that conversation and get all warm and fuzzy thinking about that show and how well it went and how much LOVE there was for everything and harry and between all of us and it sustains me through a shitty, shitty pandemic day at work.

eventually we got through the line and got our merch and looked at all the things they had set up and after moving our reservation back we got to cafe habana to sit at a very familiar table and i took off my bandages to show my tattoos to everyone (to this day i regret not having the presence of mind to show jeff my brand new fine line tattoo, he would have loved it) and we ate and laughed and had the server take our picture and that’s probably what i miss most about the weekend, being in that place imbued with such silly meaning to us and all FEELING that gravity of where we were and being able to recognize it in each others’ eyes and smiles. perfect weather, amazing food, the best company.

the early morning saw our three queen room breaking up, and @papiermachecat left a single zyrtec in the middle of the room on the floor, bringing me to tears laughing even without her physical presence. @chasm2018 and i went to randy’s donuts (where we met up with @treatpeoplewithnice again) and GOD i want to eat donuts that good again.

it was sad to leave LA that afternoon, wearing my new tpwk oversized hoodie. it wasn’t the last time i was around a big crowd of people, wasn’t even the last concert i attended before all of this happened (that was in vienna on december 30), but it was the last time i was going to be full of unbridled joy. that weekend was the real ode to joy.

we’ll get back to it, it’s just going to take some time.

@stylesinthewild, @papiermachecat, @greeneyesharry & emily, @treatpeoplewithnice, @aggresivelyfriendly, and @chasm2018: fine line forum squad forever in my heart. that weekend will always be so special to me for so many reasons and it wouldn’t have been the same without each and every one of you.

@accidentalharrie and @styloff - ONE of these times we’ll be in the same place for long enough to do more than hug and grin at each other.

@ferryboatpeak and @ticklefighthockey - it was great to meet you! and la who would have thought then our next meeting would be in the backyard of an airbnb sitting six feet apart because we don’t want to spread a disease?

to harry, who isn’t reading this but i need all of you who ARE to know my heart ... thank you for bringing these people into my life. this experience of being your fan has changed me in such profound ways that there’s really no way to express it. it’s less about you and more about those who love you like i do, and i love them. and you.

to jeff, thank you for taking such good care of harry and having his best interests at heart.

to anne, thank you for raising such a good person and giving him to the world.

to camille, thank you for fine line. without you, that weekend doesn’t happen the way it did and i love that weekend.

#fine line live #one night only #my 'review' a year later

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sourbat · 4 years ago

Text

And Then-

Words: 2800

Rating: T

Pairing: Toki Wartooth/Magnus Hammersmith

Summary: “Hammertooth, as told by the Dethklok Minute.”

There was nothing that could be done to completely vanquish the paranoia, even with the presence of half a dozen committed klokateers, so Toki knowingly made a point to always bring a disguise, to try and play it safe and drink one less bottle than normal, take one less hit than he preferred, because the last thing he wanted to do was prove Magnus’ fears correct.

Toki was there the first time it happened. Worse, he was with the whole gang, reclining comfortably in the hot tub, finished giving Skwisgaar a high five, when Nathan flicked the television on, revealing The Dethklok Minute host’s marred face.

“Today I bring you a blast from the past. We’re talking ancient history here, folks! Famed rhythm guitarist, Toki Wartooth, was recently seen chatting it up with none other than ex-Dethklok, and failed solo artist, Magnus Hammersmith. The two were seen causing quite the scene outside of the Griffith observatory, resulting in them being kicked out from the premises. Apparently, Hammersmith couldn’t handle the extra attention. Real shame, Hammersmith, it’s as close to the stars as you’ll ever get!”

They laughed when they saw the images, the brief video clip of Magnus angrily grabbing and tossing someone’s phone off the cliff, and the hilarious tweets shared by fans that all seemed to focus on how desperate and loathsome Magnus was in comparison to him. There was nothing he could say, whine or threaten to calm the rest of the band down. The day only grew progressively worse as he checked his phone, spotting new threads and comments on all the platforms he frequented, but not hearing a single word from Magnus.

He must have sent a dozen messages, and earned no reply until late at night, when news had reached every corner of the internet.

Thankfully, Magnus took it rather well, or as well as anyone with little to no say in the matter could. When they finally got together, Magnus was clearly upset, but he was more ashamed at himself for causing a huge scene and threatening a bunch of regular jack-offs for poking fun of him, mad for setting himself up for this disaster, and regretted that he pulled Toki and Dethklok into yet another one of his messes.

Once it was out, they discussed the next step. The public knew they were together in some form, but how much was still up in the air. Romance was currently out of the equation, or wasn’t suspected. Magnus treated it as a small relief; Toki, on the other hand, viewed it differently. The mean gossips centered on Magnus wouldn’t just go away if people continued to treat him as Toki’s inferior. If they came out not as competitors, but as partners, as equals, as a real couple…

When Toki raised the idea to Magnus, he spun it differently. They should come out now before the world figures it out on their own. Rip off the bandage on their own terms, and get the rumors done and over with.

The world was going to talk about them whether they liked it or not, so… why not try to have fun?

Why hide it and pretend they were only friends?

“Welcome back to the Dethklok Minute! Toki Wartooth and Hammersmith were seen together exiting Club Rhapsody on Sunset Blvd. The two barely made it five steps before Mr. Wartooth was bombarded by fans. It took several klokateers shooting down crazed fans to get their claws off Toki Wartooth. Meanwhile, here’s an image of poor ol’ Hammersmith, left out in the dust. Good thing he’s already used to it, though!”

That time Magnus was pissed. He hadn’t even done anything that night, and was the soberer of the two. Sure, they were both piss-drunk, but Magnus had been reasonable enough to leave his keys behind, to tell Toki they needed to leave once it got too crowded, and tried being civil despite the crowds, their disguises slipping off, and people flashing lights in every direction just to say they were in the same club as Toki Wartooth.

Unless given the orders, the klokateers didn’t bother trying to protect Magnus, or shoo away fans who had nothing better than to accuse him of trying to latch on to fame, being a parasite, or an unsightly thorn in Toki’s side. The burden always fell on Toki. He had to be the one to grab Magnus and reel him in, remind him to count to ten, to hold his tongue, to try and be the better man despite the rumors and open remarks.

It didn’t take long for forums to pose the much-feared question, one Toki hadn’t regarded until Magnus very frustratingly pointed it out:

How far back do they go?

Then Toki understood Magnus’ fears. With discussions digging deeper into their pasts, Toki knew it would only be a matter of time before rumors of his disappearance resurfaced, and people connected whatever dots they wanted to reach their preferred conclusions.

The following months proved too challenging.

He couldn’t blame Magnus for all those close calls. Toki didn’t blame him when Magnus eventually did snap, and lash out. Magus never laid a finger on him, but the yelling…the yelling and the misdirected rage terrified him.

It was Magnus who suggested the break.

Once again, Toki couldn’t bring himself to blame Magnus, even when everyone else at Mordhaus did.

The truth stung. The loneliness ached. The rumors persisted. Toki waited and watched the news, counting the weeks until the much-needed silence finally died down. It never did. Though the conversations decreased, there was never a point in time where comments online didn’t lead to Magnus, tweets or tags that brought up the name, and the terrible rumors surrounding their relationship persisted. It was the suckiest time of Toki’s life as he waited for Magnus’ return, for the world to get over this strange obsession, and for things to return to the way it was before.

Two months later, Magnus returned from the shadows on his own accord, and begged for Toki’s forgiveness and yet another chance at proving he could handle the unwanted attention, so long as it meant keeping Toki’s. Almost immediately after they reunited, the pictures and videos returned, but this time Magnus made a point to ignore it, to do his absolute best to take it all in stride and make the most of their limited time together.

Toki welcomed Magnus with open arms, more relieved than anything that Magnus didn’t give up on the two of them, and was willing to try and make this work.

“While on tour in England, fans caught glimpses of Toki and Mr. Hammersmith just outside of the Tower of London, harassing the local avian residents, and later caught pissing into the River Thames. Well, you know the saying: boys will be boys. In bigger news, Nathan Explosion played the lead role at The Globe’s recent…”

Then, one day, Magnus was no longer the main story. He wasn’t the butt of the joke. He wasn’t the focus of any folly that took place between them. Now Magnus had a title. Now he was just another one of the boys. Maybe not a member of Dethklok, but someone within the circle. A person who demanded some respect.

It took several months, but Magnus was accepted as another regular figure in Toki’s life. Like Dr. Rockso, Magnus was treated less as a person of interest, a living target, and more a colorful object that Toki took alongside him to various places, adding to the curiosity and allure of their already complex relationship. Unlike the clown, though, the well of controversy had long since run dry, and nasty statements about the older man were quickly replaced with random jokes, silly rumors about Skwisgaar being replaced, and then–

Magnus started smiling, really smiling, again.

And then–

“Today I bring you none other than our favorite buddy-duo: Toki Wartooth and Magnus Hammersmith! The two guitarists were seen sneaking out the back of Cruachan’s, carrying a wasted William Murderface before being accosted by some rapid fangirls. Luckily for them, Murderface was there to scare them away. Hey, Murderface, didn’t anyone tell you three is a crowd?”

It was already a big enough deal that Toki convinced Murderface to join in, drink and talk with Magnus, maybe reconcile some past grudges and start afresh. Now people were curious to know why Magnus was so well-liked. In the eyes of the fans, Dethklok was reaching out to Magnus, which meant Magnus couldn’t possibly be that bad of a guy. The focus on Magnus returned, but with a different change in tone. He was Toki’s buddy. A mentor. A reliable father figure.

Magnus read each new role, and grew paranoid for the one that he knew would soon arise from the depths of internet forums.

Another month went by, then another, and after doing their best to avoid the media, to pay extra attention when making exchanges, their reprieve arrived in the form of funny jingles and images depicting the two of them as nothing short of the best of friends. The host of the show played it well, acting as though he never had a hand in spreading lies about them, and treated their nightly excursions, trips and secret dates as just another blurb in the Dethklok Minute. But as nice as two friends hanging out was, it didn’t draw the same number of crowds as before, and after waiting and waiting, the focus on the two of them finally died.

Nobody cared that Toki hung out with Magnus, and were far more invested in Pickles’ massive pub crawl across Europe, the recent paternity trials of Skwisgaar, Nathan’s up-and-down relationship with Abigail, or Murderface’s failed MLM scheme.

And then–

“Welcome to the Dethklok minute! Uh-oh, Toki-oh! After a huge and successful performance in Japan, Toki Wartooth was seen inviting Magnus Hammersmith into the lobby of the famous Ningen Isu Hotel. But what’s this? Take a look at this! Though the picture is of poor quality, fans speculate the two are holding hands in the photo…”

A slip up. After months of touring, bad reception and shitty planning on his part, Toki called Magnus over, and in their haste to reunite, were caught in the act.

And then…

“Breaking news! You will not believe your eyes!”

The very thing Magnus feared happened. Toki expected a strong reaction from Magnus. He expected the walls to crumble and the world to feel like it was ending. However, he could not predict just how negative a response he'd receive from his billions of fans. Knees tucked into his chest, Toki sullenly scrolled through the thousands of tags with awful slurs and insulting remarks, now all aimed at him. Fans demanded to know if he hit his head, if he enjoyed giving head, if he was always playing for both sides, if he spit or swallowed, if he even liked girls, if he was drunk when it happened, if it was consensual, if Toki was sure he didn’t like breasts, if he was ok, or if there was something wrong with his eyes because he could do so much better than Magnus Hammersmith.

Nathan and the others warned him this would happen, but Toki never believed it. The fans loved him. He could do no wrong.

But, once it was out–

“While most remain torn, a growing number of fans have openly voiced their support of the two…”

Once it was out, it was Magnus who snatched the phone out from Toki’s hand, taking and stowing it in some drawer where it couldn’t bother them before doing the same with Toki, and carrying him off into the night in his arms and telling him it wasn’t worth their time.

“…Send your vote to this number to determine the name of this new, controversial celebrity couple!”

Much like those slow, intimate touches that kept Toki distracted long through the night, the horrible things fans said came to pass. Not much longer, Magnus showed Toki how those same fans that had attacked him, that posted videos and memes making fun of their friendship, that spread rumors and doubt, that tested their patience, were all now sending hearts and their best wishes. There were pictures, both hand drawn and professionally done, hashtags and gifs and essays filled with nothing but off-putting support. Toki found familiar faces and names, avatars and posts from those he remembered directing horrible things his way, and now they were acting as though they never stopped believing in the two.

Toki logged off and debated taking a break from social media.

Magnus beckoned him back to comforting sheets.

The initial shock came and went, and before long, all that was left was empty support and praise. Wholesome quotes and pretty rainbow flags that meant nothing to Toki, even less to Magnus, and fan songs and imagery that Toki blocked, only to later openly mocked with the only man who understood better than anyone else how pathetic and empty-brained most people were, and how quickly everyone forgets.

The band had little to say, but offered their indirect support by reminding Toki the jack-offs were more than likely jealous. Toki had everything in the world, Nathan later said. It didn’t matter that he left it at that, abruptly ending the conversation before Toki had a chance to really take it in and appreciate the shreds of a hidden apology underneath it all. Everything in the world. To think it included Magnus made the half-assed apology more heartfelt, and Toki had to stop himself from getting too close to Nathan and thanking him for taking his side, for being there, for listening, caring in his own way.

And, finally…

“… and in other news, the world’s favorite musical couple celebrated Toki Wartooth’s birthday in upstate New York. After celebrating at Mordhaus, Magnus and Toki decided to take advantage of the band’s extended work sabbatical, and take a vacation together… Next week, I give you a very special Dethklok exclusive, starring none other than the famous couple themselves!”

With an outstretched hand, Magnus reached for the remote, turning off the television with a short, but aggressive jab on the power button before snatching his keys and turning to Toki, who remained peacefully reclined on top of the hotel bed.

“Ready?” Magnus asked, fixing one of many heavy rings he had on his person as Toki slipped off the bed, hastily running past him to locate his socks and boots for the long day ahead. Magnus fingered a rather hefty skull ring adorned with gaudy, but bright and pointed gemstones. “So, who’s doing what again?”

“I holds him down,” Toki replied as he worked the laces on his boots. “When I gives the words, I jumps across and holds him down.”

Magnus picked up his sunglasses, donning his disguise before casually making his way out of the bedroom. “Uh-huh. And what’s the word?”

“Hmmm.” Toki chewed his inner lip as he searched for a random enough word. “Cinnamon?”

“Cinnamon?”

“Yeps,” Toki replied, standing up and following Magnus. He grabbed a small box of medical bandages and gauze, still in a plastic bag that rested on top of a recently cracked crystal table, and shoved both into his already cluttered fanny pack.

Magnus reached in, snatching the gauze and stowing it into one of his pockets, leaving more room for Toki to rearrange his things. “And you’re totally fine with me beating the ever-lasting shit out of him?” he asked, earning a mischievous little glance from the younger man. “All by myself?”

“Wells, I’ms gonna to gets him first,” Toki contentedly pointed out, and earned a snicker from Magnus when he dared to smile at the thought. “Ams doing half the works. Also, lets me wear some of the rings.”

“Fine, fine.” Magnus offered his fingers up to Toki, amused when the young man stopped and hovered and admired the large, heavy steel rings bought for the sole purpose of rearranging another man’s face. He raised a brown when he saw Toki reach for a devilish ring adorned with curled horns. “Not that one, I like that one.”

“Evens better.” Toki pulled the ring from Magnus’ middle, sticking out his tongue as he tried it on, along with a few others, before earning a slightly sarcastic look of approval from Magnus.

“Ready?” Magnus asked again, admittedly smitten by how well the ring suited Toki.

“Waits, I forgots my hat.”

Magnus headed to the door, taking his time, stopping briefly to admire the view from the window and take in the magnificent view, while also picking up on rushed footsteps hitting the floor, Toki nearly tripping over himself and putting on the last bit of his outfit, then claiming Magnus’ free hand as his, and yanking him close into a brief, but passionate kiss.

“Let’s go,” he said after slowly pulling away, eyes locked on Magnus as he opened the door, ready to be led into the light.

#fanfic #toki wartooth #magnus hammersmith #metalocalypse #fanfiction #unbeta'd

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stopeatingwhales · 5 years ago

Text

just friends x damon albarn

omg this is my first anon request! i really really REALLY loved this one, so thank you to the person who requested it! x

Paring: parklife damon x reader

Warnings: nothing at all :)

Word count: 2.221

Requested by anon <3

༉‧₊˚✧

There’s this whole illusion that working as a manager for a band is the greatest thing ever. Yes, it does have its perks like living on the road for a few months, travelling the world - although that gets extremely exhausting, and not only for me, but for everyone - but it's filled up to the brim with shelves of endless paperwork and countless meetings everyday. Not just that, but having to go to band recordings at least 2 times a week. I did enjoy them, but when your only power source is 3 cups of coffee and a chocolate bar, things start to get tiring. Evidently, being so worked up and stressed out, I had always pondered why out of all career choices, I had picked this specific one. The fantasy of working for a band and having power to be the decision-maker for most things had gotten to me; doesn’t everyone crave at least some sort of power in their lives?

I was working for a band called Blur. I first started working for them early last year, a couple months before their release of their effortlessly amazing album Modern Life Is Rubbish. They decided to drop their old label, along with their previous manager, saying they were too ‘controlling’ and that they wanted to create a sound which pitched more into them as people. The band consisted of Damon Albarn, the gorgeous front-man, Graham Coxon, the man with immaculate skill on guitar, Alex James, the very tall and lovely bass player, and Dave Rowntree, the multi-talented drummer. This band had more to it than writing meaningful songs and catchy melodies. They meant something to me.

Over the year and a half we’ve been co-workers, I have managed to establish a very close connection with the four boys. They understood my situation, having to always be present, even at times when I’m aching for a break, a holiday, a layoff. One of the reasons I held onto my job so dearly was because of them. There were times where I had been interrupted pouring my heart and soul with tears on my office floor, interrupted by them. They were all supportive; I had been through hell with bad, toxic relationships, my heart continuously feeling lonely and contaminated with the workloads I was given every dying hour. I was able to talk to them about it all, I was able to trust them at times when I felt that no one was there. Especially Damon.

Out of all of the guys, I was closest to Damon. I wondered whether it was because we related a lot, us both having our mental struggles, but were able to try and find the good in things - attempting to enjoy our late nights as a group, or solo. Sometimes after performances, he would scan the room, a towel lousily gripped in his right hand, the other playing with the broad belt circling his jeans. His eyes would land immediately on mine, catching my lips, rounded in a small smile, my hands tied together in a grasp, preparing myself to softly clap at him for his usual exquisite performance. His eyes would squint at me, his nose scrunched up to the bridge of his perfected nose, his reciprocated beam casually showing some of his front teeth as he bit his lip in consumption, and anticipation for the night ahead of him - with me.

A while back, I had to attend a photoshoot the boys were doing for a magazine cover. Rolling Stone maybe? I can’t recall. However, I remember my eyes never managing to leave Damon. His foolproof self never failed to bewilder me. His excellent jawline, the way his eyes shone a deadly stare at the camera, making anyone, even the photographer, blush at his inborn beauty. Graham noticed me, but I never shifted my stare, only when Damon made eye contact with me after due to Graham’s nudge, in which I glared at the ground in enmity - my ears perking out, hearing all the small giggles and small remarks at how I’m checking him out.

“Aw, look at her, she’s gone red,” Alex teased, I felt the eyes of them all carving words on my body.

“Stop guys, just drop it,” Damon answered sternly, defending me. The boys rolled their eyes as they continued doing some more shoots, occasionally switching positions.

His bandmates always speculated there was something going on between us, whether it be that we’re friends-with-benefits or we’re secretly dating from fear of paparazzi. Regardless, we always denied their child-like theories. We were just friends. Even if I thought time and time again that this isn’t how friends act, we were just friends.

It reminded me of a vivid memory: the second pit stop on the journey to France on the Parklife tour. It was around 5 in the morning, we were all awake - due to our excessive drinking and non-stop chattering all night - and the guys were desperate to get out for some fresh air. Unless you were Alex, who had to throw up around two to three times because of the exceptional amounts of whiskey he downed during a game of truth or dare. Me and Damon were the only ones who hadn’t exited the bus, my drowsy eyes and limp body were giving me more pointers to relax and sleep on the sofa rather than let my stomach give out and be sick like Alex was.

Damon was in the bathroom as I was trying to adjust my leg positioning on the small sofa fixated in the middle of the bus. I stared up to the ceiling, a dozen hazy thoughts flooding my mind every second. Hearing the sound of the door unlock, the bathroom door to be exact, rang through my ears as the small thuds of Damon’s feet pattered by - getting louder and louder due to him approaching tonight’s sleeping spot. The rough, worn down sofa.

“You alright?” his raspy voice asked, causing a tired smile to curve onto my lip. I loved hearing his voice hoarse and gravelly, whether it being from the early mornings we had to get up to do sound checks at an arena, or after he had drunk too many shots like the rest of us, it always intoxicated my ear drums. It’s like when you try a sweet that your friend gave to you for the first time because she had a brimmed bag of them, and the taste so sweet but sour it coated your tongue so scornfully, you begged and craved for more.

“Yeah, just tired perhaps,” I stretched, shifting my gaze from the ceiling to Damon, standing there as if a war was going on inside his head. “Are you alright, Damon?”

Snapping out of his thoughts, he blinked a few times, scratching his head roughly. “Yeah… Do you want to bunk with me tonight? You having to always sleep on the couch is kind of… Shitty,” he stammered, not knowing where to put his hands.

I sat up on the couch, my hands tied to either side of my body. The same, drained beam was splattered on my face, nodding slowly. “I would love that,” I stated, watching him reciprocate my smile onto his adorning features. “You’re going to have to help me up there though, I feel like I’m about to drop,”

He laughed lightly, grabbing my arm and lifting me up from the settee. Guiding me to his bunk, I leaned on his body, my own being too exhausted to cooperate with me at this time. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” he said, carrying my body to the bunk. As I laid in the bed, I inhaled the smell. The bed smelt of him. It had an aroma of worn down cologne, hooked with a scent of red wine - he carried a flavor that any woman would cling onto his arms and never let go. Watching him climb into the bed with me, was all a dream come true.

~~~

We were currently in a recording session; Graham had mentioned that there was this new melody he had created, and wanted to show the rest of the band, hoping they’d find ways to add it into a new song of some sort. I was sitting at the back, by the exit door on the scruffy red couch, staring at the producer talking to Alex as he began to play a bassline he had formed on the spot. It had potential, the whole song did. The way that after a mere show of Graham’s guitar abilities, they were able to brainstorm ideas for a brand-new track on an album that hadn’t been created yet. Damon had some old lyrics written down from when he was on the road on their previous tour, so he had decided to use them on this event. Everything pieced together gracefully, my admiration for the entire band as a whole seemed to grow every single time I was able to peacefully watch them create another one of their artworks.

“All right, Damon are you ready to record some vocals?” The producer asked, turning around in his swivel chair to make eye contact with Damon. He nodded, firmly grabbing onto his lyric sheet, licking his lips in anticipation as he stepped into the second room.

As Alex left the other room, he came and took a seat next to me. Graham was talking to Dave, thinking of things they could include into the melody. I stretched my arms out dearly, avoiding hitting Alex, who was staring at me. I smiled at him, trying to initiate a conversation. “Good bassline you got there,”

He chuckled nonchalantly, “That’s what I do,”

Rolling my eyes at his sly remark, we began talking about the apprehension for a new album this year. “After this, we’ll all be inspired to write more stuff, so we’re bound to create a new album, even if we literally just got off tour,” he chirped as I nodded my head slowly, the sounds of Damon’s voice deafening me in the most alluring ways.

“He’s looking at you,” Alex added, nudging my arm, detaching me from my stance.

Confused, I swiftly turned my head to look at Damon, catching his eyes in mine. Even though he was far, three or four metres away perhaps, I was still able to study his wondrous, captivating blue orbs that I had grown so deeply mesmerised of. I began blushing lightly, feeling the throb of the blood rushing to my cheeks, as I bit my lip and looked down - once again.

“Perfect, Damon, thanks for that,” the producer said, signalling for Damon to exit the room. He smiled and nodded, briskly walking out of the room. He grabbed his water bottle placed on an unused amp, taking a couple gulps from it before welcoming the repetitive comments.

“Come on mate, if you’re gonna at least try and hide the fact you like Y/n, you should at least stare at times where we’re all looking at you,” Alex teased, his eyebrows raised in amusement. “And don’t try to deny you like her, when it’s so fucking obvious, mate,”

“I mean he did sa-” Graham began, but instantly cut himself off as the realisation washed over him about what he was about to say. My eyes widened at his comment, almost immediately turning to look over to him, Graham, who was avoiding his eyes at me.

“Seriously Graham?” I heard Dave mumble, my stare too consumed by the tiny rips on the couch arm.

“I’m gonna go... To the toilet,” I lied, my mind overwhelmed over the situation. What was Graham going to say?

Countless things and speculations raced my mind as I stood outside the studio door, my head beginning to hurt as the situation replayed in my head. I leant against the cold wall, shutting my eyes in an attempt to recollect myself. It didn’t mean anything right?

As if on cue however, the door opened, a gush of air brushing past me. Opening my eyes, I was welcomed to the sight of Damon, anxiously standing in front of me. “There’s something I need to tell you, but you can’t get angry and leave after I say it, okay?” he rushed, walking away from the door and to the wall beside me. Nodding, I chewed on my top lip, fear painting my face all over. “I… I love you, Y/n, and I have for, god knows how long.”

Once those words escaped his mouth, I felt my heart drop. After the continuous ‘we’re just friends’ speeches, I realise it was all false. I knew the way we acted towards each other was more than friends. More than best friends. We both liked each other, for a really long fucking time.

“Thank fuck,” I answered, grabbing his neck and kissing him. His lips tasted sweet, the softness of his mouth due to the lip balm he had put on at the start of the session made me want to fasten my lips around his mouth and put the world on hold. I wanted to stay like this, forever.

Pulling away, our previous frowns had formed into smiles. I smiled so wide my face began to hurt, my heart feeling like it exploded after hitting the ground, like a firework on new years eve. “I love you too,”

#damon albarn x reader #graham coxon #alex james #dave rowntree #damon albarn #90s #britpop #imagine #smut #fluff #blur #music

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bebepac · 5 years ago

Text

And the Lies Have It!!

This is chapter 13 of the Life of Riley. To catch up on what you’ve been missing of what her life was like before Cordonia please click\

HERE

I am participating in @emceesynonymroll wacky drabble prompt #41 “Can you Move?” which will be bold.

Summary: Riley and her Dad go on their first run together in over 3 months of barely speaking to each other after Riley skipped school to help Von. Jason asks Von to lunch .

Word count: 1782

Riley Brooks belongs to pixelberry. All other characters are my own creation to support our story.

Warnings: Profanity, adult content, mentions of being a witness to domestic violence in the past, mentions of family mental illness, and our adorable boyfriend who yet again gets himself in yet another dumpster fire situation, this time with Riley’s dad and another officer.

Tagging: @queenjilian @dcbbw @burnsoslow @loveellamae @kingliam2019 @lovemychoices @bbrandy2002 @nomadics-stuff @kimmiedoo5 @cordonianroyalty @cordonia-gothqueen @lodberg @aestheticartwriting @glaimtruelovealways @custaroonie @texaskitten30 @janezillow @atha68 @my0123456789universe @kaitycole @indiacater @losingbraincellseveryday @yukinagato2012 @furiousherringoperatortoad @marietrinmimi @hopefulmoonobject @sevenfuckslefttogive @ac27dj @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @mrsdrakewalkerblog @islandcrow @xpandabeardontcarex @axwalker @acanthisorbis @sanchita012 @queenwalton @flutistbyday2020 @gabesmommie1130 @classylady1234 @mom2000aggie @queenaaliyah

Riley had stopped in the park. He could tell Riley was really tired, she hadn’t ran with him in over three months.

Thank goodness she was in her off season for track. Her coach would have her running sprints for days, if he knew Riley’s endurance was so low. Her father trotted back, and plopped down beside her.

"Let's take a break.”

They sat on the park bench facing the sunrise. Her dad had sat close to her. Riley inched closer to him. He hesitated, then he wrapped his arm around her. This is the first time Jason had touched her since he hit her that night.

Riley snuggled closer to him. She missed him too. Riley hugged her dad. Even though they were both sweaty.

"Dad?"

"Yes Jelly Bean?"

"Please give Von a chance, like mom's given him a chance. School is about to be out for summer vacation. And I would like to spend some time with my boyfriend."

"If I give him a chance, it's gonna be on my terms, my way, Jelly Bean."

"I am ok with that as long as you give him a real chance to show you how much he loves me."

"Riley love is a strong word to be tossing around so easily at your age."

"Doesn't make it any less true. I love him Daddy."

She leaned on him, putting all of her weight on him.

"Can you move?"

"I could, but I don't wanna."

"You stink."

"So do you."

He tried to rub his sweaty pits on her.

"Oh ewwww Dad you’re so gross!"

Riley jumped up running away.

"I thought you weren't moving?!?" He yelled chasing after her.

Ren heard the sound of stomping feet quickly approaching and then the door slam. She heard it open and slam again. Her heart was in her throat.

Then she heard Riley squeal in delight, and the unmistakable sound of laughter coming from both Jason and Riley. She smiled turning back around continuing to make breakfast. Making blueberry pancakes for Jason, and chocolate chip pancakes for Riley.

Finally there was peace and calm in the Brooks household.

Riley’s phone rang. It was the first time since everything had happened with Von and her dad, that Von had actually called her real cell phone. They had been talking on the burner phone for months.

“Why are you calling?” She asked.

“Your dad came by here and saw me today. He said that I could start calling you again.”

“REALLY!”

“Yeah, He was kind of nice, for him you know. He asked me to go to lunch with him tomorrow, to meet him at the station. Are you going?”

“Um… I don’t know, he’s not home yet.”

“He’s giving me a tour of the precinct too. So i can actually get school credit for it and take the rest of the day off.”

“That’s pretty cool.”

“Did you have a good day Riley?”

“It’s always better when I hear your voice, or get a text from you.”

“Riley….”

Whaaat?” She said giggling.

“I’m so lucky you love me.”

How quickly his tune would change.

Von decided he should look nice meeting Mr. Brooks. He didn't have any really nice clothes so he decided on a dark wash pair of jeans, and borrowed one of Tim's button down shirts.

Von showed up to the precinct with 10 minutes to spare. No way in hell he was going to be late meeting Riley’s Dad.

Von was asking the receptionist for Riley’s dad when he walked by. “Donovan!” He glanced at his watch. “Impressive. You really could teach Riley a thing or two about punctuality."

“I know sir.” He said smiling.

He was attentive as Jason showed him around, asked questions, and laughed at Mr Brooks' horrible jokes. The last room Jason took him in was an interrogation room.

"Right on time!" Lawson said seeing Jason and Donovan.

“Lawson, this is Riley’s “friend” Donovan. Donovan, this is Lawson, one of my really great friends and boss.” Von noticed Jason had used air quotes when he said the word friend.

"Let's have some fun shall we?"

Von got nervous…"Uhhhh….ok?"

"Have a seat." Lawson remarked.

Von sat down in the chair and Jason immediately put two straps one around his upper chest, the second his lower chest.

"These measure your breathing."

"Okay…" Von croaked.

He slid his fingers on his left hand in a device.

"This measures you how sweaty your hands get, and your heart rate."

"Sir is this legal?" Von asked. His heart beating wildly in his chest.

"You're not under arrest Von, unless you have something you want to confess? Do you have something you want to confess to me?"

That he took Riley's virginity two weeks ago. Hell no, not confessing that.

"No sir."

"Hmmmm your pulse is already up Donovan, are you nervous?"

Von was antsy in the chair. "I mean.. You’re hooking me up to, i guess it’s a lie detector test, to ask me questions? Couldn't this be seen as an abuse of your power as a police officer?"

Both men laughed.

"Shall we begin?"

Lawson gave Jason a thumbs up sign. “He’s a go.”

"So we're gonna start by you answering yes to these 3 questions you know to be no, so we can establish a baseline for deception. Only yes or no answers Donovan."

"Ok."

Jason asked the first 3 questions. After each question Lawson said "deceptive answer."

"Did you like Riley from the moment you met her?

"Yes."

"Truth."

"Are you in a serious relationship with Riley?"

"Yes."

"Truth."

"Do you love her?"

"With all my heart."

"Yes or no Donovan."

"Hell yes."

"Truth. I like this kid. He's got heart."

Then the questions took a serious turn.

"Do you really believe the story that Riley told you about Jaiden?"

In that moment it all became clear to Von. Mr. Brooks was not a bad guy, trying to make his life hell just because he liked Riley. He was just trying his hardest to protect Riley's sensitive heart from all the hurt, and rejection she had felt and bullying she had endured. He saw the pain in Jason's eyes.

Von looked Jason straight in the eyes, "Yes."

Jason's eyes shot over to Lawson.

"Truth."

Jason's let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

"Did you refuse Riley's help at first to skip school?"

"Yes."

"Truth."

"Was the money for rent you needed?"

"Yes."

"Truth."

Last question:

"Did you have sex with Riley that day she skipped school?"

Thank God he just asked that specific day.

"No."

"He's telling the truth."

Von felt like he was going to puke, and he was sweating. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“Down the hall second door to the right.”

They unhooked Donovan from the lie detector. Von quickly left.

“He’s not a bad kid Jason. Riley could do a whole lot worse. Here’s what we have on him. Shitty parents. Mom with mental issues, Dad that liked to beat the crap out of her. A four year old kid shouldn’t be taught how to dial 911 if he’s afraid his mom is going to get beat to death. She’s just sane enough that she was able to keep him. He’s basically raising himself hustling in the streets. No arrests, if we see him out there during school hours we look the other way.”

Jason glanced up seeing Von staring in the doorway.

“If you wanted to know about me, and my past. All you have to do is ask me Mr. Brooks.”

“Riley is my heart, you know, I would rather her hate me forever than discover you lied to her, breaking her heart.”

“I get that now.”

“Come on, after all this i put you through, the least i can do is buy you a steak dinner.”

“A Big steak.” Von remarked.

“You got it, come on.”

*****Later that Afternoon*****

“Hey babe.”

“RILEY!!!!!”

“What’s wrong?!?!?!?!”

“You won’t believe what your Dad did!” Von was in a state of laughter and disbelief at the same time, like what he was recounting wasn’t even real.

After he explained what happened, Riley ran down stairs to tell her mother.

Jaiden laughed at the story shaking his head. “God Dad. That’s hilarious.” He wondered if he would be just as protective over Riley if he was there. Yes without a doubt.

When Jason walked through the door into the living room, he saw the couch turned facing the door. Ren and Riley were sitting on the couch identically. Both had stern faces, arms crossed over their chests, and crossed legs.

Both jumped up yelling at him, as soon as he said hello.

Jason laughed. “You guys wanted me to give him a chance I did. We bonded! I bought him a steak dinner for being a good sport. And he passed the lie detector test.”

“Because that makes it all ok, right?” The dryer buzzed, Ren went to the laundry room.

“Well good thing Riley, your boyfriend doesn’t scare easily.”

Riley quickly noticed her dad called Von her boyfriend.

“He’s not as bad as I thought. Maybe I can take you into the city sometimes too, to see him, or we can have him come out for dinner here sometimes.”

“You really mean it Dad?”

“I mean it.” He would talk to Ren later, and tell her about some of the sad things in Donovan’s life. His heart had softened in the realm where Donovan was concerned. Von had his chance, he best not screw it up.

Ren folded their clothes into piles. She was even okay with the fact Riley would have more dirty clothes again, now that she was running in the mornings with her father again.

She put Riley’s clothes on her bed. When she backed up she bumped Riley’s night stand. Her lip gloss rolled under the bed.

“Good grief!” She reached under the bed feeling for the lip gloss. She found it pulling out a plastic wrapper along with it. She put Riley’s lip gloss back on the night stand then picked up the wrapper. Her eyes widened when she realized what it was, and what it meant.

It was an empty condom wrapper. Riley had lied to Ren’s face about her and Von.

Riley saw Ren sitting on her bed in tears.

She closed the door behind her. “Mom what’s wrong?”

“I just realized you lied to my face about Von.”

“I’ve never lied to you about Von. I have told you the truth, about everything Mom I swear.”

“Then what the hell is this Riley?” She said in a forced whisper holding the wrapper so Riley could see it.

Damn… so much for the peace in the Brooks household.

#bebepac writes #wacky drabbles #the life of riley #trr fanfic #trr fandom #trh fanfic #trh fandom #trr riley #riley brooks #trr mc #life before cordonia #cordonia #tw mental illness #tw domestic violence

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emgkheadcannons · 5 years ago

Note

Hurt kells headcanons?

Hurt Kells Head Cannons

I don’t know if you mean physically, emotionally, or mentally, so let's see where this goes. Well it turned out really long and is more a fanfiction I’m sorry. So the story under the cut, WARNING, part of it is really sad, and brief mentions of suicidal thoughts. It’s a happy ending though. Okay enjoy.

Well it turned out really long and is more a fan fiction I’m sorry.

Kelly is always hurting himself and Em is right behind him making sure he is okay. Kelly loves the attention and pampering, and Eminem is pretty sure Kelly is making him go gray.

Kelly is hazard prone. He has broken his arm running over parked cars, while drinking, cut his chest with a broken Jameson bottle, leaving scars, and has been hit by a double decker bus when he was in London. Kelly does a lot of reckless things all the time, he just gets back up, dust himself off, and continues on, even when he shouldn’t.

Kelly does not like not being able to do something, or having to slow down or worse having to have others slow down for you because he is hurt, but most of all he hates the useless feeling he gets from being injured. Sitting around, getting nothing done, depending on someone else for things.

It’s not so bad when he is with Em. He doesn’t feel like a burden, or that Em is only being nice to him because he has to. He is Eminem, Rap God, Slim Shady, if he doesn’t want to do something he doesn’t have to. So Em choosing to help him, check on him constantly, and genuinely want to be with him, makes Kelly feel

Eminem actually likes taking care of Kelly. He wishes he could dote on him all the time, not just when Kelly is hurting. Em is various about injuries and illnesses. He doesn’t mess around, and while he loves being able to dote on Kelly, he won’t let him get away with some of his usual antics.

When Kelly gets hurt for doing something stupid like flipping over the back of the couch, or jumping off the roof of a car, you can bet Em Lectures the Hell out of him, after making sure he’s okay. Then he cuddles the hell out of his stupid boyfriend.

It is one thing if Kelly gets hurt doing something stupid, it’s another if someone hurts Kelly. Em is very protective of his people, and Kelly is one. When a shitty reporter goes too far, making Kelly self conscious, Em hits back hard, black listing them from a ton of events, and getting other artists to refuse interviews with them.

Kelly’s interview on Hot Ones made EM so mad. Watching his idiot boyfriend eat those hot wings, when they both know they are mild taco bell guys, is frustrating. Kelly is hurting himself, Em can’t stop him, and when he gets home his stomach will probably be upset. At least Em will get a night in with Kelly, even if it’s him watching a movie with Kelly, rubbing his back, while the blond chugs Pepto Bismol.

Mentally

Kelly struggles with depression and anxiety. He is doing better now, but there is only one way to go when you hit rock bottom, and Kelly hit it back in 2018.

Kelly was mentally hurt at the end of 2018, after EM’s diss track came out, and it seemed like the world hated him. He could barely go outside without someone telling him how Em wiped the floor with him. He had people following him, threatening him, some even attacked him. He was worried about not only being booked, but also being able to perform, with how hostile people were being. Kelly was worried about Cassie being with him. What if someone decided to go after him, and she got caught up in it? He couldn’t live with himself if something happened to her, especially if it happened because of him

Kelly kept busy shooting movies, writing music, and whatever he could think of, to keep his mind from spiraling. Thinking those dark thoughts. ‘Would Cassie be better off without me? Would everyone be better off without me? What if I don’t get another gig, or role? How will I support her? …...Would anybody miss me?’

Kelly fell into depression, and his anxiety got out of control. Getting out of bed became a chore, and the crushing fear of failing everyone, made him wonder why he should even try if he was probably going to fail. He was able to get himself going most days, but the constant anxiety was draining, and he turned to alcohol, and drugs harder the weed to numb the feeling, which worked for a while. The problem is he had to use a little more every time to numb the pain.

Becoming good friends with Pete Davidson and Dominic ‘Yungblud’ helped Kelly out a lot. He drank less, it was easier to get out of bed, and the crushing anxiety of living quieted down but they didn’t go away. It wasn't until Eminem found him during a panic attack, at a festival they were both performing at that things began to change.

Eminem was wandering around the performers area one evening, close to some of the tour buses, when he heard something. He had nothing going on and wanted to find out what was making that noise. As Em got closer to the source of the sound, he saw a figure hunched over on themselves. He realized that it was a person, and it looked like they were having trouble breathing. Eminem rushed over to see if he could help. Kneeling down next to the person, Em sees that it is Machine Gun Kelly, and it looks like the kid is either having a panic attack, or a really bad trip.

Taking a deep breath, Em wrapped an arm around the other rapper's shoulders, trying to steady him, before he started talking “Hey, can you hear me? I need you to listen. It will all be okay. I need you to calm down. Take a deep breath.In, and out, in, and out.” The kid was responding but not as much as he would have liked. Making a decision, Em sat down in the grass, and pulled Kelly into his lap. It was a little awkward, but he made it work. “Alright Colson listen to me. I want you to match my breathing. Ready, in, and out. In, and out.” Em was finally getting the response he wanted, the guys breathing was slowing down, and becoming less erratic. “Okay, that's it. Just breath. It’s okay.” He didn’t smell any alcohol on his breath, so at least he wasn’t drunk, but he could still be high.

Eminem looked around and noticed that his tour bus was only two buses down. He couldn’t leave the kid here, and his band mates would most likely make it worse, so the last option was to take Machine Gun Kelly to his bus. He hated being so responsible. He didn’t even like the kid, but helping him was the right thing to do.

Eminem stood up, dragging Kelly up with him. He got under Kelly’s arm to help support him, but their height difference made it hard. Em gave up about three steps in, and just picked the guy up, carrying him the rest of the way. The older rapper noticed that Kelly was light, probably too light for someone his size. Em began to worry about what was going on with him.

Once safely inside his bus, Eminem placed Kelly on his couch. He pulled out his phone and called Paul. He needed more information before he goes any further.

He got his answers.

Apparently he has been receiving death threats lately, and someone broke into his tour bus tonight. The kid hadn’t gone out partying in a while, and seemed to be out of the public eye as much as possible.

Em turned to look at the younger rapper, and really looked at him. Kelly’s eyes had dark circles around them, like he hadn’t been sleeping, and his skin looked pale and ashen. His face was gaunt, like he wasn’t eating well. His nails were chewed short and were unpainted. Looking at his outfit wasn’t his usual put together, fashionable self. He looked like shit.

Marshall could tell that Colson was broken, he just didn’t know that he had a hand in breaking him.

Kelly wasn’t bad at ignoring what other people say, he just wasn’t the best at it, and if you paired that with how his life had been going for the past few months, it was pretty damn hard to ignore everything. The fact that Eminem, his rival, his idol, the man he liked, the man who destroyed him, found him during a panic attack, made him feel even worse. Crying in front of the man was just icing on the cake, of the shit show he called life. He had hit rock bottom and he knew it. Eminem knew it, and soon everybody else would.

The shocking thing was that Eminem didn’t go after him. He didn’t insult Kelly, didn’t use his panic attack against him. He didn’t throw Kelly out once he had calmed down. Instead the guy let him stay the night. He even offered to help Kelly.

Kelly was wondering if he was hallucinating. After all that has happened, after everything he has done why would Eminem offer him help. He didn’t know whether to trust the older rapper or not, but he has already lost so much, what else does he have to lose?

Emotionally

Trusting Eminem was the right thing for Kelly to do. They publicly squashed their beef, and that really helped with people coming after him, and the death threats have slowed down a lot. It didn’t end there though. Em convinced him to see someone about his depression and anxiety, which now that he knows that he has, he has a better handle on them. He has given up all his drugs, except weed. This is the cleanest he has been in years. He now drinks occasionally, and when he wants, rather than feeling like he had to drink or high to function.

Another benefit of trusting Eminem is that Kelly and Eminem were becoming friends. Em saw that Kelly was going down the same path he was years ago until Uncle Elton intervened, and now he was doing the same for Kelly.

Everything was going pretty well until Eminem realized that unlike him and Elton, he had feelings for Kelly, and that was a problem. How could he help him if he wants to date him. Only a few people know that Em is bi with a preference for men. He couldn’t tell Kelly. So Em does the dumb thing and starts to pull away.

Kelly was starting to feel like he was getting his life back together, and was doing well. But with all things in Kelly’s life something has to go wrong.

It starts with him and Em not hanging out as much, but Kelly just tells himself it’s because he is probably just busy. Then Em starts canceling plans on him. Their text conversations get shorter and shorter. The final piece is when Kelly finally gets to visit him, after months of trying, Em basically ignores him, won’t look at him, and practically dismisses him.

Kelly can’t take this rejection, not after everything that has happened. He makes it halfway down the hallway when his legs give out, and he starts to cry quietly. He is going over everything in his head trying to figure out what he did wrong.

He doesn’t know how long he is there on the floor, crying, when he feels a hand on his shoulder.

“Why are you on the floor? Why are you crying” Em asks, wiping away a tear.

“I'm sorry.”

“Why are you sorry.”

“I...I don’t know.” Kelly sobs while tears run down his face. “I’m so sorry. I don’t … don’t know what I did to make you so mad at me. Please..hic...please don’t hate me”

Eminem is shocked. Why did Kelly think he was mad at him let alone hate him. Em was so confused.

“I’m sorry.” Kelly kept on repeating between sobs.

Em did the only thing he could think of. He scopes Kelly up in his arms and takes him to his bedroom, placing Kelly on his bed, and wraps him up in his comforter. Kelly continues to apologize and sobs the whole time this is happening. When he finally quiets down, Em is holding him, like he did when Kelly had his panic attack months ago.

“What did I do wrong?” Kelly rasps, voice hoarse from crying.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, but you haven’t done anything wrong, and I’m not mad at you.” Em replies.

“Then why don’t you like me anymore. You helped me get my life back together, and we were like friends, but then you started avoiding me, canceling on me, and today you ignored me and then dismissed me, like I was nothing. I don’t understand. I thought we were friends.”

“We are friends, Kelly I promise. You have done nothing wrong. I did something wrong.”

Kelly was so confused. The look he was giving Eminem was adorable and pitiful; it makes Em’s feel terrible for how he treated Kells. Looking back he can see why Kelly thinks he hates him. With a heavy sigh, Em makes himself more comfortable before telling Kelly the truth.

“Not a lot of people know this but I am bisexual, and the reason I was avoiding you was because I have feelings for you. You don’t need me around wanting you when you are trying to make yourself better. I thought it would be better if I removed myself, but I clearly didn’t think how it would look to you. I’m sorry.”

Kelly buries his face in the junction of Em’s neck. He can feel the tears, from the other man, falling onto his collar bone. Kelly mumbles something that Em can’t make out.

“I’m sorry Kelly I couldn’t understand what you said.”

“Do you still like me?” Kelly asks a little louder.

EM takes a deep breath, and breaths out before replying.

“Yes, Kell-”

“Colson. My real name is colson.”

“Yes Colson, I still like you.”

“You really hurt me, Em-”

“Marshall. If I get to call you Colson, you can call me Marshal.”

“You really hurt me Marshal. I thought I had done something to make you hate me. I thought I was going to go back to how I was. Drinking and being high to just get through the day.”

“I’m so sorry Colson. I promise I won’t ever do that again.”

“That’s good, because I like you too.”

After clearing everything up between them, and working on their communication, Em and Kelly start dating.

(Using there real names are for serious, and super important moments)

Physically

A few months into their relationship, things are going well for them, and the people important to them know they are dating. Most took it well, and the few that didn’t (Rook), didn’t like it because they don’t like one of them (Rook still hates Eminem). Most people have stopped bothering Kelly for the beef, and the death threats have basically stopped.

Kelly had just finished his final concert in Detroit, and a whole week off to visit with his boyfriend, before he had to be somewhere. All they had to do was pack up the equipment, and make sure everyone was good then Kelly could head out.

About thirty minutes past midnight Kelly is heading to his car, when he gets jumped. Three guys come out of the shadows and corner him. Before he could say anything, never mind hand over his wallet, he gets punched in the gut. They continue to wail on Kelly, punching and kicking him, as he struggles to get away. Once beaten to a bloody mess, the men stop. He hears one of them say “that’s what a bitch like you gets for coming to Eminem’s town.” He always knew Detroit was dangerous, but he never thought he would be beaten up for his beef with Em after they ended it, especially after they started dating. He laid there for a moment trying to get up. His whole body hurt. He was bleeding from a few different cuts, his head really hurts, and his vision is blurry. He doesn’t know the extent of his injuries, but he hopes that he won’t need a cast.

When he finally gets into a sitting position, he sees his phone a few feet away, and miraculously it only has a few cracks on the screen from him dropping it. He calls Em, to come and get him.

Em rushes to Kelly. He brings his security too, to make sure no one else jumps Kelly. EM drives them to the hospital to have him checked out; his boy doesn’t look good.

Kelly is worse for the ware but he will be okay; it could have been much worse. He is covered in cuts, and bruises. He needs 4 stitches for a gash on his back, and gets his nose reset. Beside those injuries Kelly ends up with cracked ribs, a dislocated shoulder, two broken fingers, a badly sprained ankle, and the doctor confirms he has a concussion. The antiseptic hurt like a bitch, but it’s when they pop his shoulder back in place that he starts to tear up. The doctors agree to release Kelly into Em’s care, with strict orders on what the blond could and couldn’t do, and a few different prescriptions.

Eminem is beyond furious. Some dipshits thought they could jump his boy, beat the shit out of him, and get away with it. Fuck no. He will deal with them later. He wants blood but Kelly needs him right now. He sends two of his guys though to find out what they can.

It’s after four am when they get home. Em carries him up the stairs and tucks him into bed, careful of his injuries. He pulls the curtains tight, and makes sure the room only has a soft, dim light. He reviews the doctor's notes on how to take care of his boyfriend, and puts Kelly’s meds on the bedside table. Em checks the mini fridge in his room is stocked up on water and Gatorade. Once he feels good that he has done everything he could for now, he sets an alarm to wake Kelly up in an hour, and joins him on the bed.

Kelly wants to sleep most of the morning, but his boyfriend keeps waking him up.

“I know you want to sleep sweetheart but you have a concussion. You can go back to sleep in a minute okay. Come on pet.” This goes on until nearly three. Kelly is still tired, but he hurts all over, and his head is killing him.

Em is sitting on his bed, his back against his headboard, with his legs stretched out in front of him. Kelly’s head is pillowed in his lap, and he is carding his fingers gently through the blond hair. A notebook on his other side, so he can write some lyrics.

“Hey Em, I’m kinda hungry.”

“Does anything sound good to you?”

“Not really, sorry”

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I’ll figure something out. Will you be okay by yourself?”

“Yeah you don’t have to worry about me.”

Em untangled himself from Kelly and headed to the kitchen. He had thought ahead and ordered some chicken soup, and already had the good bread from the bakery Kelly likes, for his visit. He passes on the sweet treats he had ordered with the bread. Kelly’s stomach is probably not up to it, but he does snag a banana before heading back up.

Kelly is right where he left him. If it wasn’t for all of the bandages he would have thought his boyfriend had dozed off. Kelly should be up, chatting his ear off, doing something ridiculous, and generally just moving about. It broke his heart to see him like this.

For the next few hours Em resumes gently, petting Kelly’s hair, and softly talks to him, about anything he could think of. Kelly isn’t really listening, but Em didn’t expect him to. Kelly does fall back asleep later, and the older rapper gets to work.

He takes his phone out, pulling up Paul’s contact, and seeing if he has any news, on the guys who attacked Kelly. He’s not really expecting much, but is hoping for something good. Paul messages him that there is some grainy security footage and the police have a few leads. It was better than Em expected, but not as good as he was hoping for. He then checks in with the two men he sent out this morning. Their news is a little better. They think they have the name of one of the men.

Em would love nothing more than to beat the shit out of these pieces of shit, but he keeps himself in check. He has to be smart about this, beating the shit out of them would only make him feel better, not Kelly, and if he throws a punch, they could sue him, and it could make things messy for Kelly and him. People would want to know why he would go to such lengths for the blonde.

He gets up, making sure Kelly will be okay for a bit before heading to his office to make some calls.

Kelly wakes up, and is confused. His head really hurt, and his body felt like a giant bruise. It all came back, the concert, the attack, the hospital, and Em. He reaches an arm out, trying to feel where his boyfriend was. When he couldn’t feel anyone, he opened his eyes, which wasn’t great. Even the very dim light hurt his eyes, making his headache even worse, and his vision was still blurry. He shut his eyes quickly, trying to make the pain stop. Where was Em? Kelly didn’t know what to do. Em had left him by himself, and he was hurting so bad.

‘Was Em upset with him? For being such a burden? For being so weak that he couldn’t defend himself? Does Em even want to be with someone so useless?’ Kelly knew that these thoughts weren’t true but his head hurt and he couldn’t concentrate. He had to do something though. Anything but lay there, with his thoughts sprilling.

Kelly gingerly pushes himself up into a sitting position, careful of his shoulder and ribs. It wasn’t great but it was better. He then scoots to the side of the bed and tries to stand up. It takes a few tries, but he does manage to stand up, leaning heavily on the bed side table. He takes a few steps toward the bedroom door, before his knees give out, and he crumples to the floor. Tears begin to well up in his eyes from the physical pain, and from the feeling of complete failure. Not only was he in more pain now, he couldn’t even make it to the damn door. His thoughts came back, even worse. Kelly’s breaths began to grow quickery, and shallower the longer he lay on the floor, panicking over what Em seeing him, and realizing how useless he was.

Em had finished up his phone calls, and was heading back to Kelly, when he heard a weird sound. He knows that sound, but couldn’t remember where he heard it before, then it hits him. It’s almost the same sound he heard Kelly making, the night he found Kelly, having a panic attack.

“Shit” Em says, as he rushes to the door of his room, opening it quickly, to see Kelly, curled up on the floor, tears running down his face, and breathing very fast and shallow. Not wasting a moment, Em kneels down, gently scooping Kelly up into his arms, before heading to the bed. He sits down holding the injured man close, making sure not to aggravate any of his injuries more than they already had been, and gently starts rubbing circles on his back.

“Shh it’s okay, Colson. You are okay. I’m here. I promise I won’t leave again.” Em says, trying to calm the younger man down.

Kelly falls asleep like that, in Eminem’s arms. His boyfriend doesn’t know why Kelly tried getting up, or what triggered his panic attack, but he’s going to ask him when he wakes up.

Kelly ends up spending the next two weeks with Em in Detroit, being doted on. Em hardly left his side, after the incident. The first few days were ruff. Em was waking him up every few hours because of his concussion; he was sore and didn’t want to move. His medicine was hard to keep down. Also his concussion made him dizzy, and nauseous; his vision would sometimes get blurry, and his head almost always hurt. Em was with him, helping him do everything, which made Kelly feel like dead weight, and doubt his self worth, but Em saw the signs. Em was there when the younger man was at his lowest, he knew the signs of Kelly’s depression and anxiety, and was always watching for them. He made sure that Kelly knew that he was not a burden, that there was no way he blamed the blond for the attack, that he still wanted him around, that he wasn’t useless, and that he still loved Kelly.

Em would change his bandages, treat his wounds, help him around the house, and just take care of him. Whenever Kelly was hungry, Em brought him food he could handle, and he enjoyed, like the garlic tomato soup, and skyline chili. They also discovered that Em likes hand feeding Kelly, as much as Kelly likes being fed. Em always wants Kelly to eat more, and if hand feeding the blond then it is a win, win in his eyes.

When Kelly would say that he was sore the older rapper would run him a bath. The warm water felt good to his achy body. Em wouldn’t put any of his bath stuff in the water, worried it might aggravate something, but he did join Kelly a few times.

Em kept him away from electronic screens as much as possible, but by the end of the two weeks, Kelly really wanted his phone back. He knew looking at his phone, and watching tv was bad for his concussion but he wanted to mindlessly scroll through instagram, see the new drama on twitter, and catch up with everything going on.

The best part was when Em would sit with him most of the day. Sometimes he would literally sit with Kelly, sometimes with Kelly in his lap, and work on verses, other times he would cuddle Kelly, telling him about what's going on with friends, and people in general. Em holding him, petting his hair, checking on him, and even simply being near to make sure he was doing okay, made Kelly feel better. These actions made Kelly feel cherished, pampered, and loved, and for once didn’t feel terrible about being taken care of. He was learning the difference between being a burden, and being taken care of, and he liked it.

Em loved that Kelly was seeing the difference between wanting to doting on him, and being forced to take care of him. Hopefully Kelly continues to let Em take care of him, even when he’s not hurt. Slow days at home together, being domestic are his favorite.

Note: EM’s feeding thing is a mix between his own body image issues, wanting Kelly to be healthy, and him actually enjoying feeding Kelly.

#emgk #hurt au #send me asks

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somefantasticplace · 4 years ago

Text

THEY DIDN'T LET IT LIE

After four years of writing in secret, Vic Reeves and Bob Mortimer are about to bring their surreal masterpiece Catterick to television screen. Glimpse here an interview that treads the outer regions of sanity…

A long time ago Vic Reeves (real name Jim Moir) and Bob Mortimer were television revolutionaries, their work genuinely baffled as it made you laugh. But in recent years they have lurched perilously close to becoming light entertainment stalwarts. Their new six-part series for the BBC, Catterick, named after the North Yorkshire garrison town, might be the TV show that puts Vic & Bob back in a deeply disturbing and equally funny place. Or it could be a creative disaster. Either way, as this exclusive on-set interview shows, it will certainly be strange.

Catterick, what is it then?

Vic: It’s just a great long story about people who have lost things and then try to find them. We’ve been working on it for four years as a movie but then the BBC offered us a sketch show so we’ve put it into that space.

Bob: It’s different, a real treat. But it’s bonkers. It’s not Phoenix Nights or Early Doors but in a funny way we hope it will be as easy to watch as they are. There are mysterious crows influencing events.

Vic: It’s got very sinister undertones.

Bob: If we do get away with it, it will be a much bigger thing than we’ve done before. But they’ll only trust us to a certain extent.

The BBC don’t trust you?

Bob: I don’t think the BBC is sure about anyone for much longer than about a year, or two years. They might not even be sure about Ricky Gervais in three years time. I do get that feeling that they don’t fucking know either way of it’s good or bad.

Vic: The BBC just usually let us get on with it. Because it’s a drama they got us involved, or tried to get us involved because at the end of the day we are the ones who say yea or nay.

Bob: Just little things. Like they didn’t want it to be called Catterick. Should it be called Catterick? Should it be this long? Should it have more plots? The sort of things that come out of corporations.

Were you disappointed by Randall & Hopkirk not getting a third series?

Bob: I was surprised we got the second series really. To be honest, I didn’t think the stories were good enough. Charlie Higson wrote it… well, it was a fuck of a lot to take on, six one-hours on the BBC. We knew it when we were doing it. You know when you’re doing something and saying, “This isn’t the sort of thing that we do but we’ll try it.”

Do you suffer from people thinking you are dark geniuses rather than just comics?

Vic: If people do feel that, they don’t ring us up, they’ve thought about it in darkened corners.

Do you think you are dark geniuses?

Vic: Well, Emile Zola didn’t have people ringing him up and saying, “Are you a dark genius?” you do what you do. And we never hear of anything from fans.

Are they kept away from you?

Bob: No

Vic: It’s not that we’re not interested but we never hear of them.

Bob: I mean we don’t set up web lines and we don’t get aggressive not see fans, it’s just not…

Not what you do?

Vic: (looks over at Bob who is wearing a tracksuit top beneath a formal jacket): That’s quite unique is that look. That approach.

Bob: I’ve got a Gentle Giant t-shirt on (with a patriotic US design featuring a stars ‘n’ stripes-coloured horse).

Vic: A sports top.

Bob: And quite a formal shirt these days.

Vic: But a sports top and a suit.

Bob: What’s your verdict?

Vic: Well, it’s the new thing. The younger set will be wearing that next week. Is Jack in the younger set?

Not really, no. Is your show similar to what Paul Whitehouse did with Happiness?

Vic: No, it’s nothing like it at all.

I don’t mean the end product, but whether it’s written with similarly downbeat inclinations.

Vic: I think if you wanted to really analyse it the essence of comedy is about sadness. And there’s a lot of sadness. It’s very similar to Voltaire’s Candide, in that a bloke meets a woman who he falls madly in love with, she gets kidnapped and he spends the rest of his life looking for her and when he finds her, he finds out he doesn’t fancy her anymore. But that’s his entire life gone, for nothing. Also in Candide, people get killed and then come back to life.

And in Catterick?

Bob: Well a few die.

Vic: But if someone gets killed they are not necessarily dead. Although they’re not far off. I think it’s the best thing we’ve ever done, one of the best things ever on television but whether people like it or not is a different thing. I think people are now numbed; they’re dumbed down to the state where they’re going “We just want to watch someone decorating someone’s house.”

If everyone’s stupid, what hope is there for clever humour? Or clever anything?

Vic: I think it’s got to the state of just before punk rock emerged. Someone’s going to have to say, “Look, this is getting too much. It’s too shit, it’s too boring.” Fortunately we grew up at the right time. People of our age, from our era, are the only creative people around. There’s fuck all going on. I get so agitated watching television – there’s nothing on.

Bob: If we get away with Catterick it will make people more ambitious, take more chances. This isn’t Early Doors or the Alan Partridge thing, it has no element of – and this is something I’m not particularly keen on – “Oh he’s just like the bloke in our office” or “I know people like that”. All that stuff, there’s none of that, there’s no-one you recognise.

Vic: The characters in Catterick, they don’t look and act like normal people but they are normal. You can take somebody who’s outlandish in their look or the way that the speak and put them in a real life proper situation. It’s confusing and then it becomes funny.

Do you think that’s a Northern thing?

Vic: What do you mean?

A warmth towards outlandishness.

Vic: There’s some of that in our area.

Bob: You used to follow oddballs, didn’t you? Around the streets.

Vic: Yeah, but I think there’s something particular about where we grew up, the northeast of Yorkshire. It seems to breed a particular viewpoint, which is, I think, funny. And we’ve got Mark Benton who is a superb character and he’s from Middlesbrough, and it’s so easy to work with him because he’s got that particular… he knows what the humour is. But it’s from darkness and from sensibilities and straightforward people. And you just take a twist off to the right or left. That’s where humour is.

What do you thing to Ant and Dec, who’ve, arguably, done a childish version of your act?

Vic: Well, all the best to them. They do stuff that’s so popular and I’m sure they enjoy magnificent flats.

Bob: When they started doing Saturday morning telly, they did it well. Just because we’re from the same neck of the woods and there’s two of them…

Vic: I hope they don’t go too far and people start to despising them. Like what’s his name… not Michael Jackson… the ginger-haired fella…

Bob: Terry Evans?

Vic: Chris Evans.

Did you work with Evans?

Vic: We must have met him… he had a snotty nose.

Bob: We thought he was a sneezer.

Vic: So am I. It’s all the cocaine I abuse.

Bob: You do?

Vic: I have cocaine constantly. I love it.

Bob: (returning to the subject of Ant and Dec): Yeah, their early stuff has probably got a half-life but at the moment they are the top presenters. If there’s a big event they’ll probably be the number one choice for it at the moment.

Was your first television break on Jonathan Ross’s ‘The Last Resort’?

Vic: I wouldn’t say it was a break, as we weren’t looking for a break at the time. I think Jonathan got in a lucky position hosting a programme – he’d get all his mates on.

Bob: The other thing you realise is how indebted you are once you’ve got a show. We used to do a live show down in Deptford, but people heard about it and they wanted to put us on. By the end of it we had this fucking theatre in Deptford. As soon as we did a run of five weeks in it, it was sold out in hours.

Vic: There were people coming from all over to see it and then we had TV bosses sniffing around but they didn’t know what to do with us.

Bob: What would we have done, would we have just carried on doing that?

Vic: Well I remember sitting in a cab and you said, “Shall we be famous then? Do you fancy it, do you want to be famous for a bit?” And we really didn’t think – and it didn’t matter…

Bob: I think I took 10 weeks off work. We were doing a shitty little tour.

Vic: We didn’t think it would carry on from there. I think it was a case of… (we stop as a waitress arrives).

Bob: Cup of tea, please. (Bob points at my chip bowl, which he has gradually filled with fag ends.) Sorry about that, pet.

Vic: Can I have a large gin and tonic. I need a hair-of-the-dog and I don’t usually do that, but…

It works.

Vic: I bet it does – because you were here late for the interview I bet you got up out of bed late, didn’t you? What were you doing last night? I was singing with me father-in-law. Were you living it up?

Drinking, talking rubbish.

Bob: That’s your job though, isn’t it?

Vic: That’s alright!

Bob: I watched Harry Hill’s TV Burp. You know, it was one of those nights.

Vic: Quiet night, then.

Bob: Quiet night, yeah.

How close do you live to each other?

Bob: About 16 minutes.

Vic: No, longer, I reckon 40 minutes.

Bob: I’d say 28, if it’s important to you then we have to get it right.

Vic: More 29. Depends on the wind.

Bob: Mmm.

Isn’t that like giving up on life, moving to Kent?

Bob: Why do you say that? Where do you live?

Me? Camberwell.

Vic: Do you like it there?

I’ve not been there for that long, I was in Greenwich before.

Vic: You’re obsessive, that’s where we lived. The next thing you’ll be in Kent – you’re living the same places that we lived. You would have been here (central London) quicker if you lived in Kent, and you have the luxury of having a nice quiet life with beautiful countryside and fresh air. What happens with you now? You wake up and open your windows and you’ve got…

A gherkin.

Vic: Or a Nigerian taxi going, Waaaah! Waaaah!

Bob: You’re got a Gurkha?

A gherkin. It’s a building. And apart from me everyone else in the block is Nigerian.

Bob: Ah, yes. Do you drink in The Grove?

No, that’s turned into a big-box-little-box place. I drink at the Hermit’s cave.

Bob: That was the police pub. It was a no-go.

Vic: Do you go in at lunchtime? What do you have, pie or fish?

Just a drink.

Vic: Really, and then do you go home and have your tea? And then have some pints. What do you have for your tea?

My flatmate’s doing a cooking course so…

Vic: So she comes back with some good recipes. I left a recipe for Nancy when I was coming up here. I said “Get those chickens’ breasts out, put them in lemon juice and soy sauce then a bit pf paprika and let them marinate for some time and we’ll have those with a nice bit of cabbage and some mushrooms.”

Bob: I loved Camberwell. But I’d been in Peckham and Camberwell for 15 years and one weekend my girlfriend got attacked, my motorcycle got nicked and the police, with their helicopters, cornered a criminal in me back garden. And then the spell of it were gone. I couldn’t live there. I’d lived there happily but as soon as something happened I walked out.

Vic: I remember when we first did Big Night Out. I’d secured myself a really nice flat in Blackheath. One bedroom, but nice. It was posh. And he was living on the worst estate in Peckham and it used to make me think that other people were thinking that I was getting all the money and he wasn’t getting anything and he wouldn’t fucking get out of this shit hole. Even when we had quite a good deal of money he wouldn’t get out of that shithole in Peckham and it used to make me highly embarrassed.

Bob: I was in a homeless hostel, it’s true, and then I got this council flat just off the North Peckham council estate.

Vic: It was going to be on Through The Keyhole.

Bob: I wish I’d done it, like.

Vic: It was fucking frightening, like. When we were on tour I’d get picked up, it wasn’t a luxury flat but it had a nice front piece and it looking like a nice big hour and then I’d go and pick that fucker up and it was a disgusting hole.

Bob: It was fucking noisy at night.

Vic: And he made it worse because he was a lazy fucker. He couldn’t be bothered getting out of his bed and walking round to go to the toilet so he kicked a hole in the wall to the toilet. I said “What are you doing about getting this rubbish out of the house?” and he said, “Oh, I’ll put it out the window.” There was a triangle of shit, milk bottles and crap out the back window. Piss everywhere, piss in milk bottles…

Bob: They were the days thought, you can’t do that in Kent. And you know what, it’s embarrassing. I’m not being nasty to Nigerians in any way, I’m just making the clear point that they are noisy. Eight or nine of them in a very tiny space and they never shut up. Either that or it’s the tinkle of chicken bones falling on the pavement all fucking night.

Could that be construed as racist?

Vic: I don’t think it’s racist. When you go into an Indian shop they are always on the phone. Always. And it’s not racist but you get accused of being racist if you say that all Nigerians are…

Bob: They are fucking noisy.

Why isn’t that racist?

Bob: Because it has been my experience.

Vic: With our type of humour – a lot of people from the North East have our sense of humour – it’s a positive thing. We can say it because it’s the way we sound.

Well you’d have to ask a Nigerian whether he minds it in a North Yorkshire accent or not.

Bob: You noisy bastard.

Vic: One of the characters in Catterick is white, Jewish, ginger haired who’s got an Asian accent.

Bob: See that could be a stumbling block… it’s quite idiotic.

Vic: When we did The Club on Bang Bang, Bob played a character who had a Chinese accent and that was covered by the fact that…

Bob: But we seemed to get away with that but Asia’s different, isn’t it? As for what people are going to say? Fuck, I don’t know. Vic: If you were raised in Hong Kong and you were white Anglo-Saxon and you came back you’re going to talk with a Chinese accent. Which might be intriguing.

Bob: See the other thing is that I reckon probably in fucking South Yorkshire it’s incredibly cool to be Asian.

Like it used to be cool amongst some whites to pretend to be black?

Vic: That’s still cool now. White children in Southeast London have got a basically West Indian accent, haven’t they? It’s cool but will it ever be cool to come from the Isle of White.

Bob: I don’t think the BBC have cottoned on to that yet. That Matt Lucas is going to be Asian.

You said your humour is a product of where you come from, but Roy “Chubby” Brown is from the same area, isn’t he?

Vic: Do you know, when I was talking to my friend Eugene at the weekend, Nancy said “He says ‘cunt’". And Nancy says, “You say ‘cunt’ a lot.” She says she doesn’t like it. Being from the South she finds if, well not offensive, but she says she “notices” it, it’s a serious word. But Eugene said it’s a particular thing to our particular area. People will say cunt in the Northeast without thinking about it and I think it’s because of the accent. It’s not forced out. If it were in the South it would be “CAANT!” so it sounds like it’s being shot out. In the Northeast it’s nice, and it’s rounded. I mean I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that word. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with any language. It’s just a natural thing.

Isn’t it violent towards women?

Vic: No, not really. The word cunt is the same as “Kent” and “quaint” if you take it right back to language. Where it first came from (all this is palpably untrue); from the English language when we had fewer words in our vocabulary Kent, quaint and cunt were all the same thing. So what do you do? Do you start saying you can’t say these words?

Bob: That’s terrible.

Northerners say “bastard” better.

Bob: I think they are the best words. Whatever you think to “Chubby”, he’s a fucking great swearer.

Vic: With Roy “Cubby” Brown those words can come out and they’re got the same amount of force but they’re used in a certain way so you can accept them a little bit easier. This Jethro character – I’ve never heard him but he’s quite oo-arhh, isn’t he? And I can imagine he says (speaking in an almost Long John Silver pirate accent to denote the West Country), “You farking Carnt.” It’s a lot smoother, but if it’s cockney it sounds like a battering ram of a machine gun.

Bob: There’s not that much kudos up North in being sharp, it’s not the thing to be the aggressive comic.

(Looking at photographs that Vic has brought) Is this the stuff you’ve been taking?

Vic: Yeah. I liked the way you said that. Are you the boss of Jack?

I am actually, yes.

Vic: Are you enjoying it?

Bob: Have you got a good office?

Yes. I’ve got a chair on a castor and a floor with no carpet so when I put up the phone I move…

Bob: Are you going to stick to the castors, though?

Well, we’re moving office… today, in fact.

Vic: To a place with carpets?

Yes, afraid so.

Vic: You might find that more tricky.

Bob: You’ll miss the movement you know. Have you booked your office and said, “That’s my fucking office.”

The new place is open plan…

Vic: Oh eh!

Bob: Oh fucking cordon it off man and put “The Boss” up.

Vic: (Handing me some photographs) I want them all back. I want to do a portrait book so you have to promise me that you’ll give them all back.

Bob: Well, what will you do if he doesn’t?

Vic: I know where he lives.

What, you’ll send the boys round?

Vic: Yes, to go in your pub. I know coppers.

They shut the police station.

Vic: It doesn’t matter, not coppers from Peckham.

Hull coppers are direct and to the point.

Bob: Hull? They’d be great coppers.

Vic: Leicester’s the worst city, though.

Bob: I tell you what I think is worse, when you go down the Thames to those towns…

Vic: Marlow!

Bob: Marlow’s the worst.

Vic: Complete fights… and gang warfare. We should have a street fight.

Bob: It’s been a while hasn’t it?

Vic: Yeah. Do you want to join in or are you not a street fighter?

No. I’ll leave that.

Bob: You arrange a street fight for soft lads where no-one really gets hurt. It looks fucking amazing.

Vic: Bob used to be a big street fighter.

Bob: There's a lock-in pub (Bob here gives extended directions to a particular pub in South London). I used to live next door to it, Fucking hell. Every day of the year.

Vic: Where was that other place you used to do a lock-in?

Bob: Oh the Mexican place. That was a long one, an all-nighter.

Vic: I never did all that, you used to do three days of drinking…. You were a real drinker.

Bob: I used to be.

Have you stopped.

Bob: To be honest, more or less. We had some dos recently because we’d finished filming and I don’t seem to be able to get past five fucking pints.

Do you fall over or just go to sleep.

Bob: I’m just fucked.

Vic: Twice a week I’ll have a really good piss up.

Do you turn into a violent drunk or a lachrymose “I love you” drunk?

Vic: You know what I like? I really fucking love getting nicely pissed in me house and do fuck all. I’ll mess about. I’ll do a drawing or fiddle about with a candle, or poke the fire. Poking the fire when you’re pissed… I fucking love it. I’ll do that twice a week, get heavily pissed poking a fire. The other times I’ll drink camomile tea. Me and my lass drink camomile tea and eat sweets. I tell you what, and I don’t know how the fuck she does it, she’ll get a big box of chicken legs and stuff and she goes through all the chicken legs and she doesn’t put on an ounce. She’ll have eight chicken legs in a night and… nothing. And we have a big jug of squash, chicken legs, sweets and cheese comes out every night – like a bastard! Cheese is going to kill me.

Which is your favourite cheese?

Vic: I love all Bries and the Camemberts. I love that and pickles. Pickled eggs. Every night the tray will come out with all the shit on it and she’ll eat and eat. And she’ll not put a thing on.

Why do you think the tabloids always chase Vic’s personal life, not Bob’s?

Bob: I think it’s because he’s “Vic Reeves”. That’s the story there, that’s the way they see it.

Vic: Bob and me are both equally dull as each other. We don’t do fuck all but they seem to want to think that I have an exciting life because I married an underwear model. They seem to think that we have rampant sex all the time. She makes the dinner and puts her pyjamas on.

Bob: And you poke the fire.

Vic: I poke the fire. And then I occasionally poke her. Nothing happens, we do fuck all. But the tabloids want us to have an exciting life. They expect more of me and I don’t know why.

As a double act you’re quite unique, there’s not a straight man and a funny man – it seems an equal opportunities arrangement…

Bob: In the old days there was a straight man and a funny man but if you look at Ant and Dec they're equal as well.

Vic: Maybe it’s just a copy of us. Maybe we were the first…

Bob: It seems a bit of a waste, up a blind alley ultimately if one’s straight and one's funny. I was quite straight in Shooting Stars.

Vic: But you were never the straight one. You can have the straight one or you can have two straight men. You can have someone who is the dozy one but then if you switch the tables… in Catterick I’m clearly, if you look at it straightforwardly, the dozy one and my brother Carl is the one who has got it together. But then if you look more deeply maybe I’m cleverer… and he’s a liar. But it’s got that underlying thing all the way through that you don’t really know.

How scripted is your stuff?

Vic: Quite heavily. If we’re going to do a routine then we’ll know about it.

Bob: The nice thing about Shooting Stars is there are surprises. It’s not like Buzzcocks where they give them the questions beforehand. They are quite brave some people, they don’t get any chance to think of something funny.

Vic: When we are writing we have an office and we go in at 9:30 and leave at 3:30. Deathly silence, we never speak.

Bob: You’ve just got to sit down and do it. It’s no good going to Denmark and thinking you’ll be inspired. It’s, “here’s an office and a table”. Sometimes you do three pages and sometimes you do three lines but we try and stick to it.

Has anybody ever turned you down to appear on Shooting Stars?

Vic: I tell you who we never get – boxers, because they all want five grand and they think they’re fucking it.

Bob: We send off massive lists.

Vic: We nearly had Art Garfunkel once.

Bob: He’s got an airport problem.

Vic: I don’t think we are au fait with the younger set so you get someone like Destiny’s Child on to the show, or someone else and you think, “Who the fuck’s that?”

Bob: There's a lot of that.

Vic: My daughter's like, “Wooooooooh, yeah, you’ve got Mis-Teeq on!” and I say “Mystique – is that a juggling act?”

Bob: We don’t know their names.

Vic: And Mis-Teeq is a big deal, isn’t she? I thought she might have been a trapeze act but no, she’s a singer.

How do you cope with someone as patently Southern and middle class as Will Self being in love with you?

Vic: He finds us fascinating.

But slightly patronising?

Bob: He really cares for what he’s doing.

Vic: He’s bombastic and we’re vicarious.

Do you worry about Johnny Vegas?

Vic: Yeah. We have to edit out a couple of hours. We once did a take of Shooting Stars in 36 minutes, but when we get Johnny Vegas in we were lucky to get three hours and I just felt sorry for the people who were sitting in the audience. I mean he’s fucking bright, he’s hilarious but he’ll go on for an hour-and-a-half with his answer and you’re thinking, “Fuck, can we just get him to the green room?”

Do you drink and work?

Bob: A live show, I like to have three pints before I go on. A television show, I like to have three cans. I’ve never recorded a show where I haven’t had a drink. I don’t think so.

Vic: It wasn’t religious but we’d have lagers, cans. I do remember once when I had one too many at Sheffield.

Bob: You know how lager’s powerful, at some venues we’d phone up and say, “Please, don’t fuck us up with this Skol and Stella and stuff,” Just three and that would fuck us. You don’t realise at the time but you can see afterwards.

Vic: It’s acting, that’s what it is, and you can’t act if you’ve had anything, you just can’t do it. I don’t understand how people smoke pot. I don’t know anyone who can have any drug or drink loads and go on stage.

Bob: That’s a fucker.

Vic: Here’s something interesting. Two comedians in Denmark are re-creating Shooting Stars ad they’re going to film it.

Bob: Who wants to do that?

Vic: The BBC, with us.

Bob: Denmark? That’s butter.

Well, bacon really.

Vic: And very soft shoes.

NO, YOU LYING GET…

A brief history of Reeves & Mortimer.

1986: The Vic Reeves Variety Palladium begins at Winston’s Wine Bar, Deptford. Sketches include “Tappy Lappy” – Moir dancing to “Fly Me To The Moon” with planks on his feet, wearing a Bryan Ferry mask. The show is re-named Vic Reeves Big Night Out and moves to Goldsmith’s Tavern, New Cross Road. Moir is joined by pal, Bob Mortimer.

1988-1989: Big Night Out shifts to the Albany Empire, Deptford. Spotted by Jonathan Ross and invited onto Ross’s The Last Resort, giving Reeves his big break.

1990-1991: Vic Reeves Big Night Out on Channel 4. Classic end sequence as Reeves belts out “Mr Songwriter”, turning side-on to accentuate the flare in his trousers.

1991: I Will Cure You album released. “Dizzy”, performed with the Wonderstuff, reaches Number One.

1992: The Weekenders is on Channel 4, where Vic and Bob visit a meat festival and buy sausages for aliens.

1993-1995: The Smell of Reeves & Mortimer on BBC2, giving us Mulligan And O’Hare, Stars in Their Eyes and TV chefs eating the flesh from a giraffe’s antler.

1995-2003: Shooting Stars, a quiz format featuring regulars Ulrika-ka-ka-ka, Mark Lamarr, Donald Cox The Sweaty Fox, Will Self, Johnny Vegas, The Dove From Above and multi-talented drummer, Matt Lucas.

1997: “Comedy” show It’s Ulrika! hits the screens with the duo credited as writers. It’s bloody painful viewing.

1998-1999: Families At War includes a Vic & Bob five minute bit with Bob as a spider on a crane. Bang Bang It’s Reeves & Mortimer gives the duo more space. “The Club” shines.

2000-2001: Randall & Hopkirk (Deceased) on BBC1, but it doesn’t quite work.

2004: Catterick begins, which charts the first hours of a brotherly reunion. They become involved with a murderer and a hotelier who has lost his penis.

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