#yeah there’s no neatly wrapped answer here. we’re all just bitching in one corner of the room lmao

[padfootastic]

Wolfstar stans always say that Remus was OOC IN Canon!!! I mean wtf?? delusional lol. Fanon Remus is a mary sue who suffers and pines after cruel hottie Sirius and then Sirius comes to his senses and runs after his moony, begging for scraps of his attention and ofc James is completely ignored by sirius or they fight over poor hurting remus lmao their Fanon is what is so OOC. I think they self insert into Remus so they can catch the popular Hot bad boy who they can "cure of his bad ways"

hello anon 💜 i see we have awoken to choose violence today (nice) so i’m putting this under a cut so remus fans can skip this one.

yeah i’ve seen that too and i always have to scroll past while making faces because,,,im not here to start shit lol but oh god it’s such an annoying position. like ok, i’ve called canonical behaviours ooc too (cough harry in CC cough) and it’s entirely possible i was wrong, but the remus thing is just. wilfully ignoring everything we know about him? (again: caveat here is if you don’t care about canon, then go for it w/o trying to do critical canon analyses. no harm, no foul)

but here’s the thing, right? remus as we know him in canon is a serial manipulator, liar, gaslighter, and coward. like, this has been shown multiple times. i’m not making it up. in my mind, his actions in dh were absolutely not ooc. they just followed the pattern that had already been established so far. and i feel like so much of his characterisation comes from not wanting to engage with that kind of darkness (because even acknowledging it means your dynamic is changed). i’ve read a few excellent fandom analysis posts on here, actually, about how characterisation of wolfstar has changed over the years (decades?) as the average readership/writer ship has gone from middle aged to younger. apparently, it used to be much more dysfunctional and grittier earlier, dealing with the darkness on both sides. it was interesting. but anyway, yeah, i see it happen with regulus/jegulus too sometimes (even if i can’t comment on it since i’ve barely interacted with that content) where you deliberately turn a blind eye to things because if remus is a coward or bad at relationships, then u can’t actually write that fluffy AU u want. which…isn’t fun. because fanfic is about writing all the fluffy AUs in the world ykno?

but what that’s ended up doing is completely transforming his character into someone barely recognisable to those who aren’t in that particular niche (although,,,it’s not exactly niche is it?) and just. idk. i’m rambling now lol but it just really frustrates me because i cannot escape it. and it always treats sirius so badly. remus is just the most sympathetically written character, even when he’s being an absolute asshole, and sirius can’t breathe without being whacked over the head with it. i hate how much he’s scapegoated, honestly. like, i think i’d be fine with the mary sue-fication of remus if sirius wasn’t so defanged in the process but alas, it isn’t to be.

also that’s such an interesting point because i’ve often thought the same about remus being a self insert tbh. i was talking to someone and they said something along the lines of ‘james & sirius as the hot, rich, privileged characters aren’t relatable as much as remus, who’s poor & tortured & misunderstood, so u have people flocking to the latter’ and that combined with the ‘i can fix him’ energy just,,,really shines through sometimes lol. not so much on tumblr (where i barely interact) but i’ve seen it so much in the mwpp fandom on twitter, and a bit on tiktok. it’s very projection-heavy imo (which like, not a judgement. i’m clearly a projection heavy writer too)

[arrowflier]

i wish you'd write a fic where mickey reluctantly goes on a picnic with ian (maybe with their baby girl and dog?)

This is a great excuse for a little more of my new headcanon where they pick up a couple strays. I have to apologize, though, because this is probably not as fluffy as you imagined—there’s a pretty heavy backstory that’s hinted at. I tried to add some cute things too, though!

For the curious, first mention of their oldest daughter Brit (Mickey calls her Brat) here and of the dog, Basil, here.

---

“You want to go on a what?” Mickey asks incredulously as his husband putters around their small kitchen, putting together sandwiches.

“A picnic, Mick,” Ian replies, his head currently stuck inside the open fridge. He pops out long enough to give Mickey a look. “And don’t act surprised, I told you yesterday.”

Mickey holds out his arms, palms up. “Do I look like I knew this was comin’?” He moves out of the way as Ian closes the fridge and rounds the counter, lunchmeat in hand. “I didn’t know you were serious, man!”

Ian sighs, laying ham on bread and reaching for a knife to spread the mustard. “What’s the problem, huh?” he asks. “You don’t want to have a nice day with us?”

“Hey, don’t you do that,” Mickey commanded, pointing a finger at him. “Excuse me if I don’t want to take a toddler and fucking dog to a damn tourist trap.”

Ian rolls his eyes as he finishes the sandwiches, setting them neatly in a piece of tupperware that Mickey doesn’t remember owning. “It’s not a tourist trap, Mick,” he says patiently, “it’s a park. And your daughter wants to go.”

Mickey scoffs, trying not to soften too noticeably. Ian knew he always gave in when he used the d word. “Yeah, she wants to go cause someone showed her a bunch of pictures yesterday.”

“I was trying to keep her occupied, Mick,” Ian says for what feels like the millionth time. “She just saw her mom in the hospital, she needed a distraction.”

“That bitch has never been her mom,” Mickey starts to respond, and Ian glares at him.

“Told you not to say that shit,” he says lowly, casting his eyes around for their daughter. “She doesn’t need to hear it.”

“Relax, she’s in her room,” Mickey tells him, but he stops anyway. Well, stops the name-calling, at least. “But you know I didn’t agree to lie to her, Ian, that’s all your brilliant idea.”

Returning to the fridge to grab a few cold pops, Ian blows out a breath. “And I told you, we’re not lying. We’re just…,” he stands there for a second with the door open, considering, before finishing with, “we’re just holding back a bit until she’s older.”

Mickey’s mouth is twisted, but when Ian comes closer to put a hand against his face, it relaxes. “Just for a little bit, Mickey, ok?” Ian asks softly. “Just let her think she’s a normal kid for a little longer. Longer than we got to.”

And fine, Mickey could do that. He nods.

Ian smiles, pecks him on the lips and pulls away. “Good,” he says. “I’ll go get Brit, you get Basil, and we’ll get on our way in a few minutes.”

Mickey stands still in the corner of the kitchen for a long moment, listening to his husband call out for their kid. “We’re goin’ on a picnic,” he mutters to himself. “With a kid and fucking dog. How the hell did I end up here?”

He whistles, hears the patter of small paws against tile as said dog comes careening around the corner from the living room. Basil comes to a sudden stop against Mickey’s legs and drops his rear to the floor with a thump, tail whipping rhythmically against the wooden counter. Mickey sighs as he grabs the leash off the hook on the wall behind him and bends down to attach it to the dog’s bright red collar.

“At least you’re not wearing a fucking sweater,” he tells Basil solemnly, and sputters when Basil rewards him with a lick across the face.

—

They’re almost there on the L, Brit clinging to Ian’s leg on the crowded train and Mickey trying not to let on that he has a 40 lb dog hidden in giant fucking tote bag between his feet. Thankfully, Basil is great at playing dead—Mickey taught him that one himself—so the biggest difficulty will be carrying him out without getting a hernia.

The kid tugs at Mickey’s pant leg as the train rounds a corner, and he looks down to see her grinning up at him through wisps of dark hair that escaped her messy pigtails.

“Are we goin’ to see the baby?” she asks excitedly, lisping a bit as her tongue hits the space where her front teeth used to be.

“Uh,” he says, looking to Ian for guidance. Ian is pretending not to listen, though, the bastard. He looks back down into his daughter’s dark eyes.

“Not today, Brat,” he tells her, and keeps going before she can pout. “We told you it’s gonna be a while, yeah? Your sister’s not done bakin’ yet.”

“Like a cake!” she exclaims. Mickey sees a little old woman smiling at them, and wonders if she’d think it was so cute if she knew half the story.

“Yeah, like a cake, kid,” he agrees.

“But where are we goin’?” she asks next.

Mickey absently tucks a longer strand of loose hair behind her ear, and answers, “Remember that place your dad was showin’ ya the other day?”

She gives a delighted gasp just as the announcement is made for Lake Station, and when she sees him bend to hoist up the bag they’ve hidden Basil in, she dashes for the now-open doors.

“Hey, wait!” he calls after her, but Ian beats him to the door with his long, unburdened stride, catching up to her quickly and leaving Mickey to deal with everything else.

Mickey looks down into the open tote, and Basil blinks an eye open to look back from where he’s curled around the container holding their lunch.

“Typical,” Mickey mutters, and hobbles off the train in pursuit.

—

Thankfully, the kid was more interested in seeing the gardens and the lakefront than any of the crowded, no-dogs-allowed areas, so after a few quick pics of her fooling around in front of the Bean, they get settled in with minimal fanfare toward the center of the park.

Mickey is leaning back on his elbows on the ratty blanket they brought, picking at his sandwich and watching his little girl run wild over the grass as Ian and Basil chase her, their own meals half-eaten and forgotten beside him. He watches as Ian catches her, the two of them falling to the ground in a tangle of limbs as Basil’s leash wraps around them, the dog running circles around his humans. Mickey laughs when Ian tries to stand and promptly falls back over, having to stop and free his damn giraffe legs from the leash before he tries again.

Ian kisses their daughter on the head and hands the dog off to her as he gets up, heading back toward Mickey. There’s no need to worry about whether she can handle it—Basil may weigh almost the same as her, but the dog had always been careful with her since she came to stay with them more than a year ago.

“This isn’t so bad, is it?” Ian asks softly as he approaches. He collapses onto the blanket next to Mickey, just close enough to press their legs together. He lets a hand rest between them, and Mickey shifts his weight off one elbow so he can take it, twining their fingers together. His eyes are on their children, the human and the furred, but he can see Ian smile from the corner of his eye.

“Nah,” he murmurs quietly. “Guess not.”

Ian leans in and presses a kiss to the side of his neck, then to his cheek. “Just think,” he whispers into Mickey’s ear, “in a few months we’ll have another one.”

Mickey can’t help but snort. “Yeah, if we can keep her incubator from runnin’ off and overdosing again before then.”

Ian nudges him with his knee, and Mickey looks over with a raised eyebrow. “Hey, I didn’t call her a bitch this time,” he points out, and Ian rolls his eyes.

“It’s progress, I guess,” he relents, settling more firmly into Mickey’s side. They sit together, holding hands, and watch Brit and Basil play under the bright noon sun.

“I want to come back once she’s here,” Ian mentions. “The new baby." He turns his gaze to Mickey, eyes soft. "All of us together, as a family.”

“Fuck no,” Mickey vetoes immediately. “You want to do all this with a noisy infant in a shit-filled diaper, you get to do it yourself.”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Ian responds, and Mickey groans.

Because he knows if Ian wants it, he’ll be dragging a 40 lb dog, a hyperactive child, and a newborn around the damn park before he can even threaten divorce.

But as he watches his daughter walk their dog on the green grass, his husband reclining beside him on a soft blanket, the sun shining down on him, he thinks about adding a baby carrier to the picture, just there next to Ian. And he has to admit that it might not be too bad.

[oldguardhc]

Old Guard hc #67

Prompt number: 26 - “How about you trust me for once?”

Fandom: The Old Guard

Rating: PG-13

Warnings/Tags: Crack

Summary: Nile takes them to Pride. 

AN: For @spookyvoidangelskeleton, thank you for always liking and reblogging my stuff. This is definitely more cracky than normal, so heads up.

“We’re going to go somewhere fun,” Nile promises, taking a left at the light. She read online that there was a good parking garage a couple of blocks away from the parade and that the walk was totally worth the price. Even though her eyes are on the road, she can feel them trading glances behind her back. “How about you guys trust me for once?”

“The last time we trusted you, we got banned,” Joe reminds her, and okay, that’s fair. But in her defense, she didn’t think Nicky would actually punch the guy!

“Wait-what?” Quynh asks, sticking her head in the middle. “Where did you guys get banned from?”

Nile pushes her head back. “Put your seatbelt on. We’re going to get pulled over, and I’m sure as hell not paying for that ticket,” Nile says, and oh god, she’s turning into her mother.

“You guys got banned from somewhere in the seven months I was exiled?” Booker asks.

“Technically, only Nicky is banned,” Joe says, turning around to grin at his husband. “He was my hero.”

“Yes, a true hero,” Andy sarcastically drawls, dodging Joe’s swat. He hits Booker instead and gets a very offended ‘hey!’ in response.

Quynh sticks her head back in the middle, and Nile sighs. If they crash, Quynh’s just going to have to suck it up and deal with the pain of healing. “I understand how you feel now. I don’t like it.”

“How I feel?”

“Yes, being out of the loop. Very annoying.”

Nile huffs, a wry smile stretching her lips. “Welcome to Initiation, it lasts a good fifty years.” Nile doesn’t have to turn around to know Quynh is scrunching her face up, the one that tells the world just how displeased she is.

“Is no one going to tell us where you guys are banned from?” Booker loudly asks, interrupting the intense bickering match between Andy and Joe.

“No!” Andy and Joe shout as one before resuming their little love spat.

Nile briefly makes eye contact with Nicky through the rearview mirror. He looks far too amused with everything going on. “Sorry, Quynh and Booker. You must be a level 8 to unlock the list of places we’re banned from,” Nile says, grinning ear to ear. “Ow! No pinching the driver, Quynh!”

“The driver was being a bitch and deserved it.”

Never let it be said that Quynh was a slow learner. That woman picked up curse words faster than a cheetah on speed.

It takes ten more minutes to pull into the garage. It’s the ten most painful minutes Nile has ever lived through. She almost turns the car around, but that would mean another fifty minutes, and she’s not strong enough for that.

“Oh! Is there some festival going on?” Joe asks as a gaggle of people walk past their car. They’re all in bright shirts that have a rainbow on them, and they’re carrying several signs as well. “I forget what it’s called, but it’s for gay people.”

Nile pulls into a spot. “Pride Parade,” Nile answers.

“Yeah! We should go after we get banned from wherever we’re going!” Suggest a haunted house once, get banned, and no one will let go of it. How was she supposed to know that Nicky’s reaction to Joe screaming would be to turn feral?

Nile turns the car off and looks at her passengers. “Surprise! We’re going to Pride!” She looks at Nicky. “Please don’t get us banned. I don’t know how that would even happen, but please don’t get us banned.”

Nicky smiles. “I can make no promises, but I will try hard not to.” That’s good enough for Nile!

“We’re not appropriately dressed,” Quynh says, watching as another group passed their car. “We need more colors.”

Nile scoffs. “I prepared, honey. Everything is in the trunk.”

By the time they get to the parade, it’s just starting. There are more than a hundred thousand people lined up on the streets, all buzzing with infectious energy, cheering on the people in the middle.

“Dykes on Bikes?” Quyhn asks, pointing to a group of women riding motorcycles. “Are there Dykes on Horses?”

Andy wraps an arm around Quynh’s waist. “People these days don’t value horses.”

“They’re wrong. But, okay.” Everyone but Nile nods in agreement.

Before this can turn into another horses-are-great rant, Nile gets their attention with a wave of her hand. “Let’s get drinks, and then we can enjoy the parade.”

“I’ll go with you. They can stay here,” Booker says, sidestepping around Joe. “They don’t get to see this very often.”

“Cool, any requests?”

“Something sweet,” Joe says.

Darn, she can’t bring a bottle of tequila back. What are they going to drink now?

“Colorful,” Nicky adds.

“Anything is fine,” Andy says, and Quynh nods.

“Alright, I can do sweet and colorful. You guys stay here; come on, Book.”

They find a frozen daiquiri bar towards the middle. It’s absolutely swamped. The ten frazzled employees are dashing around like headless chickens to fill cup after cup as fast as they can. Of course, Nile and Booker choose this one.

“Hi, what can I get you?” The cashier asks once they’re at the front.

“Six monster yards pride drinks,” Booker orders, handing over his card.

“That’ll be $134.86, thank you. Can I say, it’s very nice of you to support your daughter.”

Nile stares at the guy and then promptly bursts into laughter. Oh my god. This is definitely the best day she’s had in years. Booker is looking at the cashier like he lost his damned mind.

“I-I’m sorry, I just thought-I’ll get your drink,” the cashier says, cheeks a bright red.

“I don’t look that old,” Booker touches his face, lingering on the wrinkles on his forehead. “Do I?”

“You are old!” Nile reminds him, swatting his hand away from his face.

“Your drinks,” the cashier says, putting them all on the counter. “Thank you for stopping by, and I’m sorry again for the rude comment.”

Nile waves him off and picks up three drinks. “Thanks! Now, come on, Dad.”

The other’s eyes widen when they see them with their drinks. It’s understandable, the cups were only 48 oz, but instead of building the cups wider, they went taller.

“They didn’t have anything bigger?” Nicky asks, relieving Nile of two of the drinks. He hands one to Joe.

“They were all out of kegs,” Nile responds. “Hope it meets your colorful criteria.”

Nicky looks down at his bright, rainbow-themed drink and his lips quirk up at the corners. “I think this will do.”

“These are amazing!” Quynh exclaims, taking another sip of her drink. Almost half of it is gone already. “You gotta get more!”

“Wow,” Andy says once she swallows her first sip. “These are good.”

“Nicky and I will get the next round,” Joe pipes up, and holy crap. There are only a couple more sips left in his cup.

Have these people never drank a frozen daiquiri before? Or a spiked slushy?

“That’s fine by me,” Booker says, glaring at his drink.

“What happened to you?” Joe asks.

“He’s upset that the cashier thought he was my dad,” Nile answers.

Joe laughs with delight, letting Booker shove him. “Nicky and I are definitely going back then. Have to support local businesses, you know?”

They have a great time. Nile doesn’t think she’s ever seen them all so loose in a public setting before. Joe’s tucked neatly under Nicky’s arm, tangling his fingers with the hand he’s currently under. Andy is standing behind Quynh, both arms wrapped around her neck, chin hooked on her shoulder.

Booker and her end up going back to get the second round. The third too. Nile taps out after that, she has to drive, and she hasn’t exactly been testing her alcohol metabolism rate.

As they’re leaving, Quynh lets out a shriek and runs across the street. Several heads turn her way, and they all watch as Quynh skids to a halt in front of an animal shelter tent.

“A dog!” Joe excitedly says, jogging over to join Quynh.

“Dios,” Nicky mutters, stalking after his husband.

“We’re getting a dog,” Booker sighs and finishes the last of his drink. “There’s going to be shit everywhere.”

“You don’t think Nicky is enough?” Nile asks.

“No,” Andy answers, crossing her arms. “He’s going to fold.”

Nile turns to look at her. “Why aren’t you getting your wife?”

“She’s more than that.” Nile rolls her eyes. “But if I go over, we’re getting more than one dog.”

“You like dogs?”

“She likes pussy,” Booker says and laughs when Andy smacks his arm. “I hope they don’t get a puppy.”

“God, those things yap,” Andy takes another sip of her drink. “They better not get a small dog.”

Nile looks across the street. As Andy said, Nicky has definitely lost the argument. They’re all petting the puppies, and man, Nile really hopes she doesn’t get a million dollars. How awful that would be.

Five minutes later, Quynh and Joe come skipping back, a puppy in each of their arms. Nicky is carrying some papers as well as two leashes.

Quynh holds the puppy out to them. “This is Max, and that’s Ollie! They’re Australian Shepherds!”

Nile pets Max; she’s not a monster and looks up at Nicky. “You’re weak.”

Nicky sighs. “I know.”

[olliepig]

Hog-Malarkey part 2

The conclusion of @willow-salix and I’s not so short New Year fic for you all. Hope you enjoy it!

The first part (posted yesterday) can be found here 

Or of you’d prefer, the full thing is available on AO3 here.

************

“TEN, NINE, EIGHT, SEVEN…” the assembled crowd chanted as they watched a large clock start counting down the seconds to midnight. The Tracy party had managed to stay huddled together as they were pushed and shoved from all sides as the crowd surged forwards like salmon swimming upstream, towards the doors that led to the courtyard outside.

“FOUR, THREE, TWO…”

“Gah,” Gordon yelped as someone trod on his foot and tried to remove him from the protective bosom of his family. He’d never admit it but he was pathetically grateful that Virgil had grabbed his hand and was refusing to let go.

“ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!” the crowd screamed in unison, the loud cheering deafening to the ears. All around them couples embraced, indulging in many kisses for luck or hugging their neighbours. The two couples that were actually in attendance wasted no time in joining in, continuing the custom, their lips meeting as the air was filled with the noise of fireworks exploding overhead, painting the sky with colours.

“Happy New Year,” Scott murmured to Cat, holding her close for a moment longer before releasing her and turning to pull Alan into a hug.

Following the crowd they had found themselves out in the cold night air, staring up at what had previously been a rather dull sky. A breeze had picked up over the course of the evening, blowing the clouds away and leaving a perfect night for the celebrations that were going on around them.  

Whichever way they looked, the sky was filled with colour, the explosions filling their field of vision as the shockwaves hit them in the chest, leaving them slightly breathless.

“Get me out of this crowd,” John hissed in Selene’s ear, nudging her to get her to move. Rolling her eyes, she took his hand and led the way, winding through the crowd, smacking at an errant hand that tried to pet his head again.

“Stop ruffling my husband!” she yelled at the innocent old man that had unfortunately stepped in front of the tiny scottish lady who had dared to touch the Tracy goods.

Dragging him away she found an enclosed little nook where they could still see the fireworks but were pretty much out of sight of the crowd and out of temptation range of anyone who wished to feel him up again.

“Thank you,” he sighed, dropping his head to her shoulder, tugging her into his arms. She wasn’t fooled, she knew he was using her as a human shield. The romance astounded her sometimes. “I was worried that they would succeed in their quest to rip a piece off me if we’d hung around there much longer.”

“It’s your own fault for being so good looking in your highland finery and possessing such a beautiful head of hair,” she answered, smoothing down said hair, attempting to finger comb it back into some semblance of its usual neatly swept style.

“Yes, how dare I wear clothes that were forced upon me and look semi decent in them, what a scoundrel I am.”

“Total scoundrel,” she agreed, kissing the tip of his nose.

“Lower.”

Selene lifted one eyebrow at his demanding tone. “Well, you do look really handsome tonight, so I suppose one little kiss couldn’t hurt.” Leaning in she pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, smiling against them when his arms tightened around her waist, pulling her closer while backing up further into their corner.

“I think I neglected to tell you just how beautiful you look tonight.”

“Why, Mr Tracy, how scandalous, you really are a scoundrel of the highest order. And me, a sweet, young, innocent...stop laughing!”

“Sorry, let me make it up to you.”

Try as she might she couldn’t help the giggles that bubbled up inside her as he captured her lips again.

“Where’ve John and Selene gone?” Scott asked, realising that two of the group were conspicuous by their absence, his eyes sweeping the crowd in a vain bid to try and find them.

“I have no idea, but if they’ve ditched us then I think they’ve got the right idea,” replied Cat with a glint in her eye, grabbing his hand and dragging him out of the crowd, keen to find a similarly secluded spot where she could get him to herself for the first time since they arrived.

As they rounded the corner, safely away from prying eyes, she felt a tug on her arm, stopping her in her tracks. Turning in surprise, Scott slammed into her, wrapping his arms around her as his warm lips found hers with an intensity that left her breathless.

“I’ve wanted to do that all night,” he grinned, pulling back to meet her eyes, the reflection of the fireworks making them seem to dance in the night. “Have you got any idea how good you look in that dress?”

“Probably about as good as you do in that kilt,” Cat shot back with a smile, reaching up to kiss him again, more gently this time, pressing herself against him as she savoured the moment of calm that they had managed to find in amongst the craziness of the night.

“Touche,” Scott laughed, kissing her forehead before spinning her round and pulling her into his chest, his arms wrapped securely around her waist again as they quietly watched the fireworks high above them, enjoying the sensation of her fingers intertwining with his own.

                            ***

“Remind me again why we came with couples?” Gordon groused as a quick head count revealed that their party was missing four members.

“Because you invited us?” Virgil shrugged, unconcerned by his missing brothers. They were adults and generally the most sensible ones he possessed, so he wasn’t that inclined to worry.

“They always do this, sneak off like that, every time we go somewhere,” Alan said, joining in with the bitching.

“They’ll be back soon enough,” Virgil soothed. “And frankly, I’d rather they sneaked off than putting on a display in front of everyone every time.”

“Ugh, yeah,” Alan said, pulling a face. “Nobody needs to see that.”

“Nobody needs to see what?” Scott asked, reappearing behind them, his arm securely around Cat.

“Nothing,” Alan replied quickly, hoping that the blush that he could feel creeping up his neck wasn’t visible in the dark.

“What now?” Gordon asked as the last firework exploded in the sky with a deafening bang.

“Back inside I guess,” Virgil shrugged, watching as the other guests filed back into the hall, their voices seeming muffled in his ears after the assault that the noise of the fireworks had waged on them.

“Seems as good an idea as any,” Selene agreed, materialising with John. “It’s bloody freezing out here so I’m going in even if you lot want to stay behind.”

Back in the hall, the group were mystified to find that instead of returning to their tables, the guests had formed a large circle around the dancefloor.

“Please tell me this isn’t some kind of dance?” John whispered to Selene, clinging tighter to her like she could anchor him to the spot, his eyes darting here and there like he expected a stampede of old ladies to rampage towards him intent on grabbing any piece of him they could reach.

Selene patted his arm where it was hooked around her waist, lacing their fingers for extra support.

“I don’t think it’s a dance,” Cat said, watching the proceedings.

All around the circle people reached out to take the hand of the person next to them.

“No idea,” Cat shrugged but joined in anyway, moving into the gap that someone made for them. Seeing the opportunity, Selene dragged John in too, who glared at the others until they too, admitted defeat.

The sound of bagpipes starting made them all jump but the familiar tune soon made the girls realise exactly what was going on and they joined in, singing along as best they could, stumbling over the slightly unfamiliar version of the lyrics as their arms were swung to and fro, forward and backwards in time to the music.

“Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

And never brought to mind?

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

And auld lang syne!”

Even though they were used to the English version rather than the original and more traditional Scottish, it was still comforting and familiar enough to make them smile and, when they accidentally slipped into the English and the Scottish man next to Scott still smiled at them, they relaxed and simply enjoyed. This wasn’t about getting the words perfect, it was about the celebration, the keeping of a tradition that spanned centuries.

“For auld lang syne, my jo,

For auld lang syne,

We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet

For auld lang syne.”

Guests all around the circle moved as one, letting go of the hands they were holding to cross their arms in front of them.

“And there's a hand, my trusty fiere,

And gie's a hand o' thine.”

“What are they doing?” Scott asked quietly, turning to Cat and Selene only to find them grinning.  Cat offered her right hand to him, while Selene accepted her left. Scott slipped his hand into her’s, finding his free hand being grabbed by a happy looking drunk man beside him.

“And we'll tak a right gude willie waught

For auld lang syne!”

Selene flapped her left hand at John who groaned, knowing he’d never get away with escaping now. Not having a clue what he was doing he copied her moves, crossing his arms and taking her offered left hand in his right, leaving his left hand free for the next participant, who happened to be Alan.

Scott, seeing what was going on, took the hint and joined in on Cat’s other side, catching her hand,

“I still have no clue what is going on,” Alan complained as Virgil’s meaty hand engulfed his own.

“It’s Auld Lang Syne,” Cat told him.

“It’s what now?”

“Auld Lang Syne,” Selene repeated, joining in the conversation. “Watch and learn, try to keep up.”

“For auld lang syne, my jo,

For auld lang syne.”

“Why is everything so weird here?” Alan whispered to Gordon, leaning over Virgil to do so.

“Hey! It’s not weird, it’s tradition!” Selene shot back, rolling her eyes at Cat. “We’re in love with uncultured swines.”

“We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet

For auld lang syne.”

“Excuse me, in my defense, I didn’t insult it,” John pointed out as Selene and Alan enthusiastically bounced his arms up and down.

“Me neither, so unless you’re in love with someone else, I think you owe us an apology,” Scott grinned, obviously thinking he had won that argument. Little did he know.

“Sorry to break it to you,” Cat deadpanned, keeping her face perfectly straight. “But you had to find out some time, didn’t he Virgil?”

“For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne,” Selene sang loudly, acting as if she’d heard nothing.

“What?” spluttered the innocent engineer, having been so busy trying to keep up with Alan’s arm bouncing and the song words he’d lost the thread of the conversation.

“We'll take a cup of kindness yet, for auld lang syne,” Cat sang along with Selene, ignoring the wheezing laughter coming from Gordon and Alan and John’s soft chuckle.

A loud cheer went up as the music came to its end and everyone let go of their neighbours hands

The girls cracked up laughing, unable to keep a straight face any longer, one look at Scott’s indignant scowl breaking their control.

"That was mean,” Scott scolded Cat, trying to stay serious as the girls howled, collapsing into each other's arms, each holding the other up as they laughed hard.

“It wasn’t that funny,” Scott huffed but his lips twitched once, twice and then he cracked.

“Come on, trouble maker,” John hauled Selene away from Cat as the band started a lively song,  sacrificing himself in aid of his brother by sweeping her into his arms for a dance.

“That seems like a good idea,” Cat grinned, knowing he couldn’t stay mad at her as she looped her arms around his neck and pecked a kiss on his cheek.

                                       ***              

“My feet hurt,” Selene whined, lifting one leg and dropping her foot into John’s lap so he could help her.

“You were the one that kept wanting to dance,” John pointed out helpfully, receiving a scowl for his troubles as he unbuckled the thin strap of her shoe and slipped it off, holding out his hand for her other foot.

“It was a party, there was music and drinks and that leads to dancing,” Cat added, coming to her friend’s defence as she returned from the bedroom having retrieved the remains of the champagne from earlier. “Nightcap?”

It had been a tired but happy (and slightly tipsy) party that had wound their way back to the hotel with various degrees of stability, some far more steady on their feet than others. They had collapsed the moment they entered the shared lounge, commandeering every couch and chair available.

Maybe the nightcap had been a bad idea, because although everyone was what Selene called physically tired, they weren’t mentally tired, which led to them helping to polish off the champagne (and a few other drinkables that the minibar provided) and chatting for a few more hours. And so it was rather late, or early depending on how you look at it, when they eventually fell into bed and slept the dreamless sleep of the inebriated.

That inebriation didn’t partner well with a loud knocking that shook the suite door at an hour that none of them cared to be awake to see. Five bedroom doors cracked open and heads poked out to see what the noise was about but nobody was willing to move further, each looking at each other in confusion before focusing on Scott until he took the hint and answered the call.

“Yes?” he croaked as he opened the door, eyeing the smartly dressed member of staff on the other side with suspicion. The world seemed to be spinning quicker than he was used to, and, although he would never admit it, his hand resting on the doorframe was only there partially out of habit.

“Lady Creighton-Ward left instructions for you to be woken in good time for the event this morning, and to that end, I am here with your breakfast,” the concierge informed him, indicating a trolley behind him piled with covered platters.

“OK…” replied a bemused Scott, moving out of the way to allow the man entry, his eyes tracking his every movement as he placed plate after plate of food onto the table, the smell making him feel slightly queasy.

“Does anyone have any idea what event he’s talking about?” Alan asked once they were alone again, piling bacon and sausages onto his plate.

“Nope,” Virgil replied, eyeing the food with suspicion before settling on a large cup of coffee instead. “Gordon? Any ideas?”

“Oh, it might be that swimming thing Penny mentioned?” Gordon mused, trying to get his brain to focus on a half remembered conversation from several weeks before.

“Mmmf?” questioned John, his eyes barely open as he made his way gingerly across the room. Taking a seat at the table, he reached for the coffee pot, pouring himself a large cup and cradling it in his hands as he waited for it to cool.

“Yeah, she said there’s some sort of tradition to go for a morning swim on New Year’s Day to clear the hangover,” Gordon continued, feeling more confident now his brain had woken up a little bit.

Scott’s stomach lurched at the thought of bobbing around in a swimming pool. “I think I might give that one a miss this morning, Gords,” he shuddered, reaching for a glass of water to settle the nausea that rolled over him.

“Nnnngh,” groaned John, shoving his coffee aside and resting his forehead on the table.

“I think that means John’s out too,” Alan helpfully translated, taking in John’s now nearly translucent form. “I’m up for it though. Virgil?”

The engineer swirled his remaining coffee in his mug, considering his options carefully. “I’m in,” he eventually declared, the thought of plunging into cool water seeming strangely appealing to him.

John groaned again, shuddering like he was in the last throes of death.

“Alan,” Scott whispered, not wanting to speak louder now that his headache was catching up with him. “Get Sel, will you? I think he needs to go back to bed.”

Alan, as the only mostly sober, bright eyed and bushy tailed one of the five, set his full plate down on the table beside John’s head and jumped up, ignoring the gagging noise that came from his brother when the smell of sausages wafted up his nose.

“SEL!” Alan yelled in through the open bedroom door.

Virgil groaned as the noise drilled into his aching brain. “We could have done that, can you try to be a bit quieter?”

“Oh, sure, sorry,” Alan winced, realising that his usual volume probably wasn’t the best option. Snagging a cushion off a chair he took careful aim and threw it at the bed, hitting Selene on the head. “Score!”

A muffled string of curse words floated out of the bedroom, but the sound of rustling sheets and creaking springs announced the arrival of the witch.

“Sup?” she muttered, rubbing her eyes, smearing a little mascara around that she’d neglected to take off the night before.

“John’s dead,” Alan shrugged, going back to his plate, apparently unconcerned by his expired brother.

John lifted a hand weakly, extending his middle finger to point at his brother.

“He seems fine to me,” Selene commented, stealing John’s coffee and taking a sip. Putting the cup down again she lifted her man’s head and pushed on his shoulders to return him to an upright position, holding the cup to his lips. “Babe? Ya good?”

“Such sympathy from my loving wife and family,” he groaned, but took the cup from her and scooted back from the table enough to allow her to perch on his lap. Hotel rooms never had enough chairs.

“At least your loving wife is here and looking after you,” Scott groused, glancing to his bedroom door that remained resolutely closed. “My girlfriend hasn’t even gotten out of bed to see if I’m still breathing. Last she knew there was someone pounding on the door. I could have been kidnapped,” he finished melodramatically to snorts of laughter from Selene.

“That wouldn’t happen,” John assured him, “no one would be stupid enough to want you.”

“Oi,” Cat exclaimed, appearing from the bedroom with perfect timing, wrapping her arms around Scott and leaning over his shoulder to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Are you calling me stupid?”

“More misguided.”

“Fair enough,” she shrugged, picking up a sausage from the platter on the table and taking a bite before continuing. “And you’re at least partially right. Someone might kidnap him but they’d definitely bring him back again.”

“And I thought you were on my side,” Scott protested, clutching his heart. “You wound me.”

“Oh shut up and drink your coffee, you big idiot,” Cat told him, pouring two mugs and pushing one over to him before taking another bite of her sausage..

“I’d keep you,” Selene promised him. “You always sniff out the best snack in any location, you’re a useful asset to have on the team.”

“Can we please stop talking about food!” John yelled, dropping his head back into his hands.

“If no one but Alan wanted food, why did you guys order it?” Selene asked, snagging a slice of toast and laying a piece of bacon on it before folding it in half.

“We didn’t,” Scott replied, tentatively taking a sip of coffee. “It just arrived with instructions that we have to be up for some event this morning.”

Cat and Selene exchanged slightly guilty looks, unable to keep the smiles off their faces.

“What’re you two looking at each other like that for?” Virgil demanded, instantly on alert.  

“Us?” Selene squeaked innocently. “No reason, why would there be a reason?”

“There’s always a reason,” John replied, watching them both carefully. “What do you know that we don’t?”

“How much I love you?” she answered, fluttering her eyelashes at John.

“Bullshit,” Scott cut in, totally unconvinced at Selene’s attempts at diversion. “Cat? What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she squirmed, suddenly finding her coffee very interesting.

“C’mon sweetheart,” Scott pressed, standing and gently running his hand around the small of her back, pulling him into him before kissing her neck where he knew would make her powerless to resist. “Whatever it is, you can tell us.”

Selene rolled her eyes, knowing her partner in crime was lost to her now. Weak ass ballerina.

Sending Selene a look preemptively asking for forgiveness, Cat crumbled. “It’s a costume thing,” she mumbled, hanging her head in shame at how easily she had been bought.

“Nope!” John said, refusing immediately.

“Absolutely not,” Scott agreed as he shook his head firmly, promptly regretting it as his brain seemed to slam against the inside of his skull.

“Costumes? Cool,” Gordon exclaimed, even more enthusiastic for the swim now. “Did you bring them with you?” “What do I get to be?” chimed in Alan, jumping up and eyeing up the door to Cat and Scott’s bedroom as if the costumes might magically appear.  "Maybe a superhero."

John’s arms were wrapped around Selene’s waist, holding her on his lap, his head resting on her shoulder, and if the soft snoring was any indication, he wasn’t planning on moving any time soon.

“I think you’re gonna have to do it without him,” she told Gordon.

“Rubbish, it’ll do him good,” Gordon poked his sleepy brother until he roused himself enough to slap his hand away. “Anyway, he’s not really asleep. He’s just pretending because he’s too scared I’ll look better in a costume than him.”

“I’m not sure about that,” Virgil replied doubtfully, stifling a yawn of his own. “He does look pretty tired.”

“Are you besmirching my husband's honour?”

“Oh, big word for so early in the morning,” Scott grinned, needling her just a little bit more, just  because he could.

“John,” Selene nudged her almost comatose space man. “All your brothers are picking on us, can I curse them?”

“Sure,” he mumbled. “Just do it quietly.”

“Aren’t you even going to ask what they did to deserve it?”

“Nope, I trust your judgement.”

“You’re going to let your wife fight your battles for you?” Gordon teased.

“Yes.”

“Well, there’s no shame in that, is there, Scott?” Cat asked.

“Sure there is. He’s just being a wimp.”

“What is your problem today?” John growled, lifting his head to shoot a squinty eyed glare at Scott.

“It’s just a little swim in a costume and you’re wimping out.”

“I don’t see you agreeing to it.”

“Fine! I’ll do it, there, happy?”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“God, you men are ridiculous,” Cat groaned, looking at Selene for support, who simply shrugged, more than used to it.

                                                                              ***

“Just a little swim, he said,” Scott hissed, glaring at Gordon.

“Costumes are cool, he said,” John joined in, appearing to have forgotten that Scott was mostly the reason he was there in favour of throwing his own glare at Alan.

Selene and Cat wrapped themselves up tighter in the blanket they were sharing, watching their menfolk as they stood shivering on the riverside, dressed in costumes that they would never have chosen even if they had a gun to their heads.

“Well, I hate to say it, but I’m not sure Scott has the legs for that tutu,” Selene whispered to Cat.

“Don’t tell him I agreed with you,” Cat laughed, pulling Virgil’s jacket closer around herself under the blanket, shivering against the cold breeze that whipped around them, finding its way into every gap.

“Do you think mine looks better in that dress than I do? It’s kinda hard to breathe in a corset at the best of times but, and call me biased, I think he makes a pretty sexy witch.”

“He is looking good, I’ll give you that one. Although he’s not quite got the cleavage for the top,” Cat agreed, casting a critical eye over John.

“He's got the thigh muscles to keep him locked to a broom, though.”

“Come on, guys, it’s not that bad,” Gordon could be heard defending himself. “Look at my tail!”

“I have no idea how he can even stand up in that, let alone walk,” Cat whispered to Selene.

“Describing what he’s doing as walking might be pushing it to be honest,” Selene laughed, watching as Gordon waddled towards the crowd, his mermaids tail glinting in the sunlight.

“I’m too hot,” Alan complained, pushing back the hood of his teddy bear onesie.

“Wait until you’re freezing cold and waterlogged,” John sniffed. "Then you won't be complaining."

“I’m OK at the moment,” Virgil added with a shrug, his bulkier frame apparently throwing off more body heat than his more slender brothers, even though he was wearing nothing but denim hot pants and a knotted plaid crop top.

“This is so scratchy,” Scott complained to Cat, fiddling with the underside of his tutu. “How the hell do you wear these all the time?”

“Well, it’s not my fault you wouldn’t wear the tights,” Cat shrugged, totally unconcerned at his discomfort. “I did warn you.”

“This boning is flattening my lungs.”

“That’s because you have a manly chest, my love,” Selene called back to John, pouring herself a cup of hot chocolate from one of the flasks the hotel had provided along with toweling robes and sweatpants.

“You’d better get going, everyone’s lining up ready to go,” Cat said, giving Scott a shove towards the water, choosing to ignore the look of betrayal that he shot her. “Can’t let Gordon get in ahead of you in the line and beat you into the water now, can you?” she added with a glint in her eye.

“I knew I’d lose something delicate to frostbite by the end of this trip,” John muttered darkly as he begrudgingly accepted a small kiss for luck from Selene then, like a man going to the gallows, he moved to join his brothers.

Cat and Selene stood guarding the pile of belongings, staying a safe distance away from the water and crowds, just in case anyone decided they might require a dunking. They had both learned from experience that you could never be too careful.

The crowd was huge, they guessed somewhere in the region of three hundred people participating and an even bigger crowd watching, ready to cheer and offer moral support.

“Think they’ll hate us after this?” Selene whispered to Cat.

“To be honest, I think they hate us already,” Cat murmured, catching sight of the baleful looks Scott was still throwing her way.

“Guess we’ll just have to make it up to them with lots of hugs and warm things.”

“I’ve heard worse ideas,” Cat giggled.

“The sacrifices we make for these boys.”

“It’s a very hard thing, but someone’s gotta do it,” Cat mused, before realising what she’d said and exploding in laughter.

Selene snorted in response. “With that amount of cold water? I doubt we’ll ever see a boner again.”

“That would be sad. We’ll just need to make sure we get them nice and warm later, won't we?”

“Again with the sacrifices, what do they do for us, huh?”

“They get nice and warm…” Cat tailed off with a shrug.

“You do realise that our flight clearance is in an hour?  So we’ll have to deal with cold, wet boys all the way back to the island before we can look after them properly?”

“Fuck. I hadn’t thought of that.”

“We must remain strong,” Selene started, only to be interrupted as the crowd began to chant a countdown. On the final word the crowd moved as one, surging forwards, dragging the unwilling members of the Tracy crew along with them.

The girls heard an almighty splashing, immediately followed by screams and curses as the cold water hit the swimmers hard.

“Welp,” Selene sighed, popping the ‘p’ “Happy New Year.”

“And to you.” Cat risked the invasion of the cold as she pulled Selene into a one armed hug. “Who knows what this year will bring, but here’s hoping it won’t be anywhere near as weird as this.”

“It’s a weird family, but you get used to them,” Selene laughed, hugging her back. “And as for what it’ll bring, you can never tell, so I guess we just have to wait and see.”

The girls watched as their drenched boys struggled their way out of the water, gasping for air, cursing under their breath. Selene shrugged as she grabbed a robe ready for Gordon who was the first one out. As weirdness went, this was pretty low down the scale, but she didn’t want to tempt fate.

[avengersnthings]

Dumped (Tony Stark x Reader)

Summary: You get dumped the day before Valentine’s Day but Tony makes it all better.

Word Count: 2,093

Warnings: Some swearing

A/N: I’ve been having Tony feels lately and this popped into my head. Enjoy!

Tag List: @mp938368 @generalantiope @thatgirlsar @jumperswellies @quicksoldier @kitkatgaming @marvelfandom-stuff @itsmaytimetosaygoodbye @agentraven007 @marvelgoateecollection​ @thaniya82​ @thats-so-rhyan​ @hymnofthevalkyrie​ @themanwiththemetalarm​ @mslaufeyson​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @jackiehollanderr​ @nayr9e @shaydeevee​ @mxria-hill @littlelonewolfgirl

MASTERLIST

“THAT SON OF A BITCH!” You screamed in anger, throwing your phone down onto your disheveled bed. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes before crashing over your cheeks. You felt so betrayed. So used. So...so...

“Dumped..” You whispered to yourself, lip quivering with anger. You couldn’t believe it. Your boyfriend of two years cheated on you and dumped you the day before Valentine’s Day.

Anger once again pooled in your chest just thinking about it. Just as quickly as the anger came, it flew away to be replaced by dread and heartbreak. The vicious cycle continued for an hour as you flung yourself on your bed dramatically and listened to the voicemail over and over again.

“Hey, babe... Listen... I met someone else. She’s so great and amazing and... I’m in love. I feel like I’m in a movie, it’s crazy. I’ve never been this much in love before and I just need to follow my heart and be with her. So...yeah... We’re done. Well, I’ll talk to you later, babe- I mean, (Y/N). Bye... Oh wait, can I get my sweatshirts back?”

“Asshole,” You spat out as you wiped the tears off your face. Shoving your phone in your back pocket, you made your way to your closet where the sweatshirts hung neatly on hangers. Just seeing the once-comforting items made you see red. Ripping them off the hangers, you balled them up in your arms and made your way out of your room and towards the elevator. Impatiently smashing the button marked ‘L,’ you quietly fumed as you rode the elevator down the couple of floors. As soon as the elevator doors ‘pinged’ open, you stomped your way towards the glass doors that led into Tony’s laboratory. A few biometric scans later, the door swung open for you and you were greeted with the sight of Tony working on a suit.

“Hey, princess, how’s it-” Tony abruptly stopped as he took in your appearance. Mascara ran down your face in black streaks. Your hair was thrown into a very messy bun and your oversized sweater hung loosely on your frame. Your eyes were red and puffy and your lip had a slight quiver to it. “What happened?”

As soon as those two words came out of his mouth, once again you were a blubbering mess. You dropped the bundle of sweatshirts on the floor and ran towards your best friend’s open arms. Immediately you were enveloped in the welcoming warmth and scent of Tony as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his chest. He tucked your head under his chin and you buried your face into his Black Sabbath t-shirt, almost immediately soaking it from your tears. 

“Shh... you’re okay, I’m here, Princess. I’m here,” Tony soothed as he rubbed calming circles into your back.

“He ch-cheated on me, Tony,” You hiccuped into his chest and screwed your eyes shut tight to try to prevent any more tears leaking out. Through your closed eyelids you could still see the faint glow of Tony’s arc reactor out of the corner of your eye. 

“Oh, Baby, no...” Tony sighed before placing a delicate kiss onto your hairline.

“And he dumped me,” You sobbed. “Over voicemail.”

“That son of a bitch,” Tony hissed under his breath before leading you over to the couch he kept in the lab for when he was too tired to go up to his bedroom.

“I know,” You sniffled, pulling away from Tony. “That’s what I said. Here, listen.” You fished your phone out of your pocket and played the awful message for the hundredth time that day. As the message played out, the expressions on Tony’s face turned from disbelief to sadness to absolute fury. The voicemail soon ended and Tony’s jaw was set in anger at what he just heard. How anyone, especially the person who was supposed to love you, could cheat on you and dump you the day before Valentine’s Day was beyond him. 

Silence filled the room as your anger began to turn to despair once more. This time, though, instead of breaking down you just sat there numb. The same could not be said for Tony, however. Tony was fuming. Tony hated the guy from day one ever since you brought him back to the compound to introduce him to everyone. The guy was too smug and cocky for Tony’s liking, which says a lot, since it was Tony saying it. Over the next few months as Tony watched the two of you grow closer and get more lovey-dovey, the hatred that Tony felt for the guy soon turned to jealousy as he watched him hold you and kiss you. Tony would never admit it to you, but he wished that he was the one that got to take you home each night and put that beautiful smile on your face. 

Months turned to years as Tony’s feelings for you grew deeper and stronger. He had never felt like this for anyone before but he sure as hell wasn’t going to say anything to you. He couldn’t stand to lose you as a friend. No matter what was going on in your relationship, you would find yourself down in the lab telling Tony everything. You told him about your first fight and cried in his arms before jumping up when your phone rang from him calling you. You told him when you thought that “tonight is the night” and that you were going to take things to the next level with him. That one absolutely killed Tony as you asked your best friend for his opinion on what you should wear to that date.

“What did I do wrong?” Your sad voice snapped Tony out of his reverie. He immediately got off the couch and kneeled in front of you, hands on your knees.

“Baby, look at me,” Tony demanded, drawing your sad (E/C) eyes to meet his chocolate brown ones. “You did nothing wrong. That guy is an asshole and doesn’t deserve you. If he can’t see how incredibly amazing you are, then he’s just plain stupid. Never belittle yourself or think you are nothing. You mean the world to people.”

“Doesn’t feel like it right now,” You sniffled. “I wasn’t good enough for him.”

“No, he wasn’t good enough for you,” Tony interjected while tucking a stray hair that came loose from your bun behind your ear. “He should’ve been kissing the ground you walked on, (Y/N). You are such an incredibly good person that it is sometimes hard to believe. He should have done so many things for you. Hell, if I was your boyfriend you would be the most adored woman in the world. I would kiss you, hold you, laugh with you, cry with you, spoil you, and so much more. I would-”

“Wait, what?” You cut off Tony’s rambling before looking him in the eye. “Why did you say ‘if I was your boyfriend’?”

Tony blinked. He did not just say that in front of you. “I didn’t mean to say that. What I meant was, theoretically speaking-”

“Tony.” Once again, you interrupted his ramblings. “Do you like me?”

“Of course I like you,” Tony danced around the question as he stood up.

“No, as in, more than a friend. More than a best friend,” You clarified, you standing up too.

“Well, uh...” Tony muttered, still trying to avoid the question. 

“Tony, answer the question. I need to know if I wasted the past two years of my life or not.”

“What?” This time it was Tony who was the one doing the interrupting. “What do you mean by that?”

“You first.”

“No, you,” Tony retorted, taking a step toward you.

“God, you’re so infuriating,” You rolled your eyes before crossing your arms over your chest. 

“You know you love me,” Tony said out of habit.

“You’re right.”

“What?” Tony blinked once more. “Do you...”

“You first,” You shook your head while gently biting your bottom lip in anticipation. “Tony, do you like me as more than a friend?”

“No.” It was not the answer you were expecting, nor the one you wanted to hear coming from his lips. Over the past two years with your Ex, you couldn’t help but feel as if you were with the wrong person. You were afraid to be alone, so you never broke things off. You would have, though, if the person right in front of you said something. You would have dumped your Ex’s sorry ass and flung yourself into your best friend’s arms if you could have, but you knew he didn’t feel the same way, so you never did. 

“I love you, and more than a friend loves a friend,” Tony admitted quietly to you. You could feel your heart pounding in your ear as it rose from the pit in your stomach where it was moments ago. He took a step closer to you as his fingertips lightly grazed over your arm. “Do you?”

As his eyes bored into your own, you couldn’t help but fling yourself towards the man in front of you. Your hands desperately reached for his face to pull his lips down onto yours. As soon as your lips touched his, a fire erupted inside of you that you had never felt before. His lips were soft and warm on yours and his hands were strong and steady on the small of your back, pulling you closer to him and keeping you from melting into a puddle all at once. You never noticed how soft his hair was until your fingers carded through his chocolate locks. You almost didn’t notice your lungs screaming for air as Tony glided his tongue on your bottom lip, asking for permission. Before the lack of oxygen caused you to pass out, you reluctantly pulled away, gasping for air. Tony could care less for oxygen, apparently, as his lips found yours again not once, not twice, but three more times as he placed gentle pecks on your swollen lips. 

“Is that a yes?” Tony smiled as he rested his forehead against yours.

“Most definitely a yes,” You leaned up and captured his lips in yours for a fourth time. “You should’ve told me.”

“You shouldn’t have dated him,” Tony retorted with a smirk.

“I’m glad I did,” You admitted. Tony’s smirk fell from his face at your words. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have realized that I loved you, and I wouldn’t have gotten this moment with you.”

“You are incredible, (Y/N),” Tony beamed before picking you up and twirling you around in a circle. “Will you please be mine, now?”

“On one condition,” You smirked, an idea forming in your head.

“Anything,” Tony sighed contentedly, kissing your temple.

“You let me set his sweatshirts on fire with the suit.”

“God, I love you,” Tony gushed, ducking down to capture your lips again before taking your hand and leading you towards the new suit he was working on. Tony held up one of the gauntlets and allowed you to slip your hand in. The metal plates quickly fitted to your hand and the next thing you knew, the repulsor glowed to life. Throwing the wad of sweatshirts in the test-area, Tony stood next to you and placed a loving kiss on your cheek. “Let em’ burn, Baby.”

The repulsor instinctively responded to your hand and sure enough, the sweatshirts created a lovely bonfire in the laboratory. Before things got too out of hand, DUM-E motored over and extinguished the fire, leaving a heap of charred remains. 

“Well, better return his sweatshirts,” You shrugged as you placed the remains in a box to be sent back to your Ex’s place. “Let’s go get dinner, shall we?”

Tony smiled brightly at you as you took his hand. Once more, he placed a kiss on your temple before leading you out of the lab. “Let’s.”

Even though you hated your Ex and all the horrible things he did to you, you had to thank him. If it weren’t for him being an awful boyfriend through cheating on you and breaking up with you, the day before Valentine’s Day, you wouldn’t have gotten the man of your dreams who just so happened to be your knight in shining armor. You’d have to write him a ‘thank you’ note to send back with the charred remains of his sweatshirts. A thank you for giving you the best thing you’ve ever had: Tony.

[katymacsupernatural]

The Right Dean

Dean Winchester x Reader

1800 Words

Written For: @teamfreewillbingo

Square Filled: Dean Smith

Summary: Y/N isn’t sure whats going to happen when Dean Smith is dropped into the bunker.

Warnings: slight spoiler mention of Season 15

“Y/N, there’s someone here,” Jack whispered, shaking your shoulder, waking you up. You shot straight up, narrowly missing his forehead with your own as you automatically reached for the gun on the nightstand.

“What? Where?” You asked, trying to force your mind awake. Jack was already tugging on your hand, but you turned to the other side of the bed, instinctively trying to wake Dean. But then you remembered he and Sam had taken off late yesterday. Something about checking to make sure Jody was okay.

“Where’s Cas?” You asked, keeping the gun in your hand as you followed him to the hallway.

“He left. Said he needed to talk to someone,” Jack whispered, pulling you towards room 28, an unoccupied room. You could hear mumbling from behind the thick door, items falling to the ground. “But Y/N, how could someone get in? I thought this place was warded!”

You pulled him to a stop. “Jack, it’s okay. Why don’t you go call Cas, and I’ll see what’s up.” Jack padded off, his socks making little sound on the tile. When he was around the corner, you took a deep breath before shoving the door open.

In your hunter’s stance with the gun cocked in front of you, you strained your eyes to see what was making the noise in the darkened room. Muttered cursing could be heard, in a voice that was eerily familiar.

Your hand shaking slightly, you stepped forward, flipping the light switch on. “Dean!” you exclaimed with relief, looking at the man who lay sprawled on the floor.

As you started to lower the gun, you noticed the black dress pants instead of the faded denim. A sky blue shirt was tucked neatly into the waistband. A blue and yellow tie was knotted tightly around his neck, a pair of fancy suspenders finishing off the outfit. “Suspenders?” You whispered. “Dean, what the hell are you wearing?”

He dusted off his pants, straightened his tie before he stood up. “What do you mean? This is my normal attire for a Monday morning. And who the hell are you?”

If the suspenders weren’t enough to have you concerned, Dean’s lack of memory had you raising the gun again. “You’re not my Dean. So I would be explaining fast before I put a bullet between those green eyes of yours.”

“Your Dean?” He muttered, glancing around. “I am Dean Smith, and I seem to have lost my way. I was on my way to the office. Where am I now?”

“You’re in my home. In Kansas,” You answered, watching him closely as he glanced around the small room. Suddenly he bent over, putting his hands on his knees as he took in deep breaths.

“No...no..what’s happening?” He asked you. “I thought it was weird waking up in this place, and now…,”

Tucking the gun in your waistband, you stepped forward, still wary. But your gut was telling you this man meant no harm. He was lost and needed your help. “Y/N, I wonder if this is a Dean from another world. Like those last ones,” Jack spoke up from behind you, making you jump.

“I think you’re right,” you agreed. “Hey, Dean..what’s the last thing you remember?”

“I remember going to sleep last night,” he thought carefully. “Had a really strange dream. There was this guy Chuck. He said he was killing off worlds? He handed me this drink, and then I woke up here.”

You turned to Jack, completely ignoring the new Dean for a moment. “Chuck wanted him here? Why?”

“I just want to go to work,” this Dean complained. “I’m up for a promotion, and this stress is seriously throwing off this whole vibe I was working on.”

Rolling your eyes, you took a deep breath. “Listen, why don’t you come sit down in our Library, and we’ll see if we can figure something out.”

He followed you down the hallway, past your room, and into the library. “Wow, this is a crazy place you call home,” he exclaimed as he sat down at one of the wooden tables. “And you said earlier, your Dean. What do you mean?”

“I know this is confusing, but that guy Chuck? He’s God. He had created multiple worlds, but now he’s throwing a bitch fit, and killing them off. One by one,”

“My world..,” This Dean seemed shocked. “It’s gone?”

“Probably,” you answered, feeling sorry for the man.

“So, this is another world, and you have your own...Dean. What’s he do for a living?”

You weren’t sure if this version of Dean could handle the truth, but you were tired and in no mood to come up with a lie. Especially while in the bunker, surrounded by the Supernatural. “He hunts Monsters.”

Dean’s eyes grew huge as he almost tipped the chair over. “No freaking way! I knew there were ghosts, but wow.”

“You...you knew?” You shouldn’t have been surprised. This man continued to surprise you at every turn.

“Of course. Actually killed one last year. With this giant of a man named Sam. Now we’re pretty good friends.”

“Y/N, Cas called. He’s on his way back and so are Sam and Dean.” Jack announced before yawning.

“Jack, go get some sleep. Dean and I will be...fine,” you assured the young man who didn’t argue too much. He turned back down the hallway, leaving you alone with this strange version of the man you loved.

“Y/N,” he said your name as if he could taste it on his lips. “I knew a Y/N once, but she was nothing like you. She was all bite. She cared more about her own appearance than anything else. I was glad when she was moved to the Detroit branch. Even if we did have a couple of fun late nights threw in.”

It was easy to see what he meant by the late nights by the look on his face. Scooting his chair closer, his hand rested next to yours. “So you and this Dean...are you a thing, or...,?”

“We’re definitely a thing!” Dean growled from the top of the stairs. His hands clenched the iron railing while Sam tried to push past him. “Now get your slimy hand away…,”

“Dean, this is Dean Smith,” you tried calming him down as you scooted away. “He’s from one of the collapsing worlds.”

“I remember a Dean Smith,” Sam muttered as he bounded down the stairs. “Dean, remember? The alternate reality that the freaking Angels put us in? The stupid suits…,”

“Hey, I happen to like my suits,” Dean Smith interrupted. “And it cost me more than all of your outfits. Combined.”

“Don’t care,” Dean grumbled, coming to stand beside you. “But yeah, I remember that. Think it was actually one of Chuck’s worlds or…?”

“I think this guy answers our question,” Sam insisted. “But where’s Sam?”

Dean Smith shook his head sadly. “If everything is true, probably blown to bits by now.”

“Great. Another version of me to throw into this world,” Dean mumbled under his breath, his hand resting possessively against your lower back.

“Throw into this world?”

You had to feel sorry for the guy. Everything he had known, everyone he loved. Gone. “Listen, it would be really weird to have you here. But with your...office experience...you could get pretty much any job here. You’ll do just fine.”

“So, I get here, and you just toss me out to the wolves?” He pouted, staring directly at you which seemed to annoy your Dean even more. You liked seeing this possessive side of Dean, but it wasn’t helping this Dean at all.

“You can stay for a while,” you assured him, feeling Dean’s hand clench against your back. “But yeah, I think it would be better if you tried to find your way. Soon.”

He glanced between you and Dean, sighing heavily. “I’ll be gone tomorrow. As long as you’ll give me a lift?”

“Done,” your Dean agreed. “Now I’m gonna catch a couple of z’s before the sun comes up.”

Dean started to head down the hallway, but you hesitated. “Go on, I’ll be right there,” you assured him. “Just gonna get this guy settled.”

Dean narrowed his eyes but knew better than to say anything. “So, he always like that?” Dean Smith asked.

“Especially when someone is invading his territory. But come on, let’s get you to bed for the night.”

You turned to head down the hallway, but Dean grabbed your hand, turning you around. “Listen, I get it. But I envy the man.”

“You do?” You couldn’t help but notice how close he was. He smelled of expensive aftershave and mint, so unlike your Dean. It was offsetting.

“Yeah, if there had been a girl like you back in that world,” he spoke softly. “I would have done everything in my power to stay with her.”

“Maybe you’ll find someone here,” you offered, moving to the side when his hand went to brush your cheek.

“Maybe,” he agreed, refusing to take his eyes off you. You knew at any moment Dean could come out of his room, and things wouldn’t be pretty. “But why does this guy get everything, huh? This cool place to live, hell a world that isn’t dying around him. And then there’s you.”

“You don’t know me,” you argued. “True, but I think we clicked the moment you opened that door,” he started to argue, but you had enough.

“Listen, maybe on your world. But here, I belong with my Dean. The Dean that sleeps with a gun under his pillow. The Dean that drives that sexy black beast of his, who would do anything in the world to make sure the people he loves are safe. So thanks for the offer, but if you can’t understand this, then you better…,”

He threw up his hands. “No, no, I get it. It’s just been a long day, and I’m the only one left from my world. Makes a guy think. That’s all.”

“You can sleep in here,” you told him, pointing to the room you had first seen him. “Then tomorrow we can take you into town. You can get a bus ride to one of the bigger cities. You’ll be fine.”

He nodded, even though he didn’t seem assured. Shutting the door behind him, you turned to see your Dean leaning against the door that led to your shared room. “He hit on you?”

“Yeah,” you answered, holding your hand up when he started to move forward. “But I handled it.”

“I heard you,” he admitted, pulling you against him, his arms wrapped around your waist. “You sure? That version of me will probably have a mansion before we could blink. You don’t want that kind of life?”

“Hell no,” You insisted. “My five-star life is right here. Living in this bunker, knowing that I’ll fall asleep tonight with your arms wrapped around me.”

“Damn straight,” he agreed, pulling you into the room, and all thoughts of the other Dean fled from your mind.

Dean/Jensen Tags: @acortez82 @acreativelydifferentlove @adoptdontshoppets @a-girl-who-loves-disney @akshi8278  @bebravekeeponfighting  @bi-danvers0 @brindz30 @cap-just-said-language @colette2537   @deansgirl215  @flamencodiva @hamiltrash1411 @its-not-a-tulpa @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @justanotherwinchester @just-another-winchester @karouwinchester @keikoraventeller  @krys198478 @librarygeekery @magssteenkamp @misspygmypie​ @mlovesstories​ @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk​  @mrspeacem1nusone​ @nothinbuttrouble2​ @ria132love @ruprecht0420​     @sortaathief @superseejay721517 @squirrelnotsam @team-free-will-you-idjiot @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @torn-and-frayed @ruprecht0420​ @wonderfulworldofwinchester @woodworthti666

Forever Tags: @aditimukul​ @alexwinchester23​ @algud​ @amanda-teaches​ @andreaaalove​   @artisticpoet​ @atc74​ @be-amaziing​ @camelotandastronauts​ @caswinchester2000​ @cpag7​ @chelsea072498​  @closetspngirl​   @docharleythegeekqueen​ @emoryhemsworth​ @ericaprice2008​  @esoltis280​   @foxyjwls007​ @gh0stgurl​ @goldenolaf25​ @growningupgeek​  @heyitscam99​ @hobby27​ @horsegirly99​ @imsuperawkward​ @internationalmusicteacher​ @iwriteaboutdean​  @jayankles​ @jensen-gal​ @justsomedreaming​ @just-another-busyfangirl @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son​ @lifelovelaughangell123 @li-ssu​ @linki-locks11​ @littleblue5mcdork​  @lowlyapprentice​   @maui137 @mersuperwholocked-lowlife​ @mogaruke​ @monkeymcpoopoo​ @musiclovinchic93​  @nanie5​   @percussiongirl2017​ @plaid-lover-bay25​   @roonyxx​ @ronja-uebrick​ @roxyspearing​ @samanthaharper2018 @samanddeanmyheroes​ @sandlee44​ @shamelesslydean​ @simonsbluee​ @sillesworldofwriting​ @sgarrett49​ @spnbaby-67​ @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester​ @spnwoman​   @superbadassnatural​ @thatcrazybookwormgeek​   @thewinchesterchronicles​ @vvinch3st3r​ @wecantgiggleitsafandom @whimsicalrobots​ @winchester-writes​ @zombiewerewolfqueen​

[akitokihojo]

Delicate - Chapter 9

“Well, well. Found you.”

An uncomfortable thud knocked inside of Kagome’s chest at the potential threat presented before her. Sango had stopped alongside Kagome, gazing toward the man she must only see as a mystery. Kagome had never told her what had happened.

“Been a while.” Renkotsu cocked a thin brow, notching his chin up in a feeble and arrogant greeting.

“Not long enough.” Kagome said, adjusting her book bag casually, preparing her excuse to slip through. “And, we’re running late, so gotta go.”

“For what? Gotta pick up your kid brother from school? Or, maybe his friend’s house this time?” He asked, his smile growing a little wider.

“Excuse me?” Her tone piqued, approaching incredulous. How would he know she even had a little brother?

“He’s a cute kid. I’d say, in a few years, he’ll probably be taller than you.”

“What are you, a stalker?” Sango asked, immediately defensive. A scowl pinched at her face immediately, staring the guy down with plenty of indignation. 

“Stalker’s a bit of a stretch.” He shrugged, appearing amused. “We’re old friends.”

“No. We’re not. Did you actually follow me home!?” Kagome pressed angrily.

“No, no, no. Nothing like that. What do I look like, a felon?” He chuckled. “I noticed you walking with the kid one day, and saw your school uniform. Isn’t that difficult to narrow down the field, especially when you innocently plant yourself on the path multiple times to confirm you’ve got the right institution. The rest is history.”

“Sounds like stalking to me.”

“Well, how about you go get your boyfriend, and he and I will sort this out.” He suggested, crossing his arms over his chest. “I did warn you two.”

“Kagome…” Sango gave a gentle yank to her sleeve, pulling her attention so she’d notice the direction Sango was looking in. A man was crossing the street, eyes on them and grin minacious. His hair was black, long, tied back in a braid, his hands tucked in the front pockets of his jeans, and shoulders relaxed like he owned the scene.

“What is this?” Kagome asked, turning back to Renkotsu.

“I was told to handle my dirty work, myself, so here I am.” The unwelcome man said, his voice smooth and mature, sauntering passed the two girls to stand beside Renkotsu. “How’s it going?”

“What’s going on?” Sango demanded, stepping closer to her friend so they were shoulder-to-shoulder.

“Which one’s which?” The new guy asked, pointing between the girls, his wrist loose to express his ease in their tension.

Renkotsu pointed to Kagome. “That’s his girl.” Then pointed to Sango. “Don’t know who she is.”

“Oh.” The guy smiled. “You can go, then.”

“We’ll be going. My dad’s expecting us both in ten minutes.” Sango fibbed.

“Then, I suggest you leave and make up an excuse for your friend here. Because, she’s not going with you.”

“Who the hell are you guys!?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but my name’s Bankotsu. And, I’m sure you’re gonna ask what we want next, so to get it out of the way, she - what’s your name, doll?” He asked, directing the question to Kagome.

Her lip curled in distaste, hating the nickname, and with a heavy roll of her eyes, she said, “Kagome.”

“Kagome’s gotten herself into a bit of trouble.”

“What, because I pushed him and called him a couple of mean names?” Kagome asked Bankotsu, though she stared Renkotsu down, watching his jaw clench. “Did I hurt your feelings?”

“You want to act tough, but you don’t want to reap what you sow? Huh? Is that what I’m hearing? I warned you. If you had just left it alone when I told you to, you wouldn’t be involved in Inuyasha’s mess. Sure, degrade me all you want, but this is your problem now, bitch.”

“Hey! Back off!” Sango yelled, her shoulders squaring as Renkotsu marched forward a few paces. “I’m gonna call the cops if you don’t let us through right now!”

Bankotsu sighed impatiently, his easy expression fading as he lolled his head to the side and gently knocked on Renkotsu’s shoulder to signal for him to step away from the girls. “There’s no need for that.” He gave a brief massage to his temples to rub away some aggravation, his chest rising and falling with a thick breath. “The thing is, I’ve been trying to talk with Inuyasha for a while now. That’s it. Just talk. I’ve had some buddies of mine attempt to pass that message onto him, but they always end up bumping heads. The guy’s pretty disagreeable. I don’t want anything to escalate here. Honest. You guys can go on your merry way. Just do me a favor first and go get Inuyasha, would you? Then you can consider yourself problem-free.”

“Sorry, can’t help you.” Kagome shrugged, her expression flat. “We don’t go to school together.”

Inuyasha rolled his amber eyes, tapping his finger along his crossed forearm as he waiting for Miroku to wrap up something student council related. They’d only come back inside so he could grab some paperwork that could be finished at home, but some chick was in the committee room and started droning on and on about something Inuyasha immediately tuned out, because, quite frankly, he hadn’t signed up for that. He could tell his friend was trying to cut the conversation off, but the guy was pretty polite in comparison to the half demon. He was finally able to wrap it up by pointing out the impending bad weather outside, mentioning that they wanted to try to make it home before it rained.

As they left the schoolyard, crossing the street at the corner, a breeze carried over a familiar scent that couldn’t have been too far off, halting Inuyasha in his tracks. Miroku noticed, stopping but not altogether paying attention as he neatly adjusted the items in his bag.

“What’s up? Rain coming, Lassie?” He absentmindedly questioned.

“Which way did Sango and Kagome go?”

“Uh, I think they were heading to Sango’s house. Why?”

“They didn’t head down this street?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. I think they sometimes go straight a little and then turn left on some corner or other to cut through. I don’t know the way, though, I’ve yet to go over.”

“Fuck.”

“What’s going on?” Miroku asked, his attention now fully on his friend. Inuyasha’s shoulders were tense, raised slightly, his sights on the distance and his brows pinched tightly together.

“I can smell Renkotsu nearby.”

“Is that one of those guys you used to roll with?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, so let’s head home.” Miroku persuaded. “The chances of him knowing that either of the girls are affiliated with you is minimal, and the last thing you need right now is to get caught up in that. Things have been really good for you lately, Inuyasha. They’re probably fine, so you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Renkotsu knows Kagome.” He said, stabbing his best friend with his blazing stare. “He saw us together before.”

There was a slight shake to Miroku’s nerves, but he remained as rational as possible, trying to ease his friend back to a stable place. “Here, let me call Sango.” He offered, pulling his phone out. “They may already be at her place. If they are, we’re going to mine and laying low.”

He was honestly surprised the hanyou didn’t completely ignore him and storm off to find Kagome. He could visibly see the restraint he was exercising, but his eyes were searching the suburban horizon, and he knew he had to be using his nose to try and hone in on what direction Renkotsu’s scent was coming from. Maybe even searching out Kagome’s while he was at it. The line rang in his ear; one ring turning to two, then three, then the fourth cutting out before it went to Sango’s voicemail. Inconspicuously, he pressed her number to try again. One ring. Two. Three. Voicemail.

Miroku could admit now that he was worried, himself, his stomach beginning to churn within his abdomen. Steadily, he locked his phone, lowering it and leveling a gaze with Inuyasha. “So…”

“This way.” Inuyasha instructed, running back the way they came and leading Miroku in the direction their partners had gone.

Their scents were heavy in the air, four of them, one guy he couldn’t quite determine, and so was the storm that’d been threatening them all day. When it rained, he couldn’t smell shit, the only aroma he could detect being that of the water pouring from the sky. Even right before and after, the atmosphere was thick with the smell of rain, distracting his senses from anything else. Thankfully, they weren’t that far. Thankfully, he heard yelling to carry his feet the rest of the way. Thankfully, the wind had been on his side to tip him off in the first place.

“Don’t lie!” Renkotsu barked.

“I’m not! He and I don’t go to school together!” Kagome argued.

“So, call him up!”

“No!”

“Call him! Now!”

“I’m not doing shit for you!”

“Oh, see, you should! You’re in the heap of it, baby, and I’ve got nothing against showing you who’s boss now.” His grin was threatening, too joyful to be sane.

“I swear to god, if you don’t back up -“ Sango warned, interrupted by Renkotsu’s transferring glare.

“You’ll what, little girl? You actually think you can do any damage here? Since you want to be so involved, we’ll go ahead and keep your mouthy friend with us and you can go get Inuyasha.”

“Go fuck yourself.” She seethed.

“Wrong answer.” Renkotsu stepped toward her menacingly.

“Renkotsu…” Bankotsu cautioned, though his tone spoke a different message. “Before we go down that route, go ahead and hand over your phones. Unlocked.”

“Fat chance!” Sango scorned.

“Give them or we’ll take them. Final warning.” 

“How about we just give you our lunch money and we’ll call it a day, since you sound like a couple of middle school douchebags.”

The two guys expressed utter annoyance, their sighs clenched and dragged, their eyes rolled, a smile on their lips showing conceit.

“Just tell me what you want to say to him, and I’ll make sure to pass the message along.” Kagome offered cheaply, looking daringly into Bankotsu’s eyes.

He stepped closer, meeting her stare, his cool demeanor dropping entirely as he encroached on Kagome, but she didn’t back away. Sango seemed almost prepared at her side, but she couldn’t tell if it was to join the fight if anything happened, pull her away, or shove Bankotsu off. If things actually came down to it, would these guys actually hurt them, or were they all talk? Was this a chance she was willing to take? Didn’t much matter now; she was in knee deep. Kagome had never actually been in a fight, and the guys weren’t necessarily small in comparison to them. The biggest issue was, if anything happened, would she and Sango even be able to fend them off, or would they easily be overpowered?

She heard a simple hum from Renkotsu but didn’t take her eyes off of the man hovering just inches away from her, nor did he remove his from her. She felt hot and angry and nervous, but despite that, she was more than willing to argue herself into an even deeper hole if it meant standing her ground.

“Is he really worth all this?” Bankotsu questioned.

“Yes.”

A powerful hand snatched her left forearm, pulling her back and away, her feet slightly tripping over one another but so solidly held that she stayed standing by the support. It was like she’d blinked and suddenly she was shielded by the broad back of the half demon, the heat of his grip searing through her clothes, keeping her close. Even from behind, she could see, feel, how heavily his lungs pumped air in and out, hear it leaving his nostrils, but he held firmly between she and trouble.

He’d immediately pushed Bankotsu back to create the space, livid that he’d gotten so intimidatingly close to Kagome to begin with. How fucking dare he? How fucking dare he threaten her? Involve her? He was seconds away from fucking this bastard up just for that. Bankotsu’s laugh taunted him further, baiting him, and he’d be damned if he didn’t consider just throwing his fist without bothering to get the small talk out of the way first.

“It’s been a while, buddy! Your hair’s longer! Damn, and you don’t look as scrawny as before, either! I’m impressed a hopeless half breed like you could look remotely like they have their shit together!” Bankotsu boasted.

Kagome huffed, ready to throw a rebuttal at him in Inuyasha’s defense, but Inuyasha was quick to apply pressure to her arm, keeping her silent.

“Congratulations. You’ve finally come out of your cave to find me, yourself.” He remarked. It’d been a year and a half since he’d last seen the leader of this group. No wonder he couldn’t pinpoint the fourth person’s scent; he didn’t remember it at all.  “What’s the outside world feel like, Bankotsu?”

“You got jokes. You know what the real joke is, though?” Bankotsu questioned, chuckling, gliding his tongue over the front of his teeth. “I hear you have your girlfriend fighting your battles now. I figure, since she’s the one that wears the pants in the relationship, and she’s the one telling me to come out and play, I should take it up with her. She’s really mouthy, Inuyasha. You should teach her when to shut up.”

It was difficult - so fucking difficult - not to react to his jab toward her. All he fucking wanted to do was defend, protect, from anything and everything, but he knew Bankotsu was looking for a reaction, and the last thing he was about to do was give him what he wanted.

“Or, I can teach her for you.”

Inuyasha shrugged his brows, laughing lightly. “She can take you.”

“Should we test that theory?”

“No need. Renkotsu can tell you all about it.”

“Keep digging your grave, mutt.” Renkotsu dared.

Inuyasha merely cocked a brow at Bankotsu, stating his point was already proven. “You’re not here for her, though, so drop the act. You’re here for me. What the fuck do you want?”

“You did a stupid thing, Inuyasha.” Bankotsu chided, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back with an alpha complex.

“Yeah, over a year ago.”

“I might have dropped it if you didn’t treat this as a game.”

“Was it not? You weren’t actively seeking me out, you were just trying to get your cock suckers to bring me to you if we ran into each other. Clearly, it wasn’t that serious to you if you weren’t willing to do a little something, yourself. You wanted to attempt to make my life a living hell, so I was sending your goons back with black eyes and bloody lips to give you my own message: You lose. As a bonus, they couldn’t open their mouths wide enough to deep throat your frustrations away.”

Bankotsu heaved a tedious and hot sigh, exerting control and smiling through it. “Well, I’m here now. Taking me seriously yet?”

“Not really.”

“Oh? Even after I had your bitch cornered?”

Inuyasha shook his head.

“I see. Hear that, Kagome? He doesn’t really care about you.”

Inuyasha gave another squeeze to her forearm, making sure she kept her mouth shut. Thankfully, she heeded his warning, feeling her physical response as she leaned closer to his back. She could sense something was coming, and he could sense her apprehension from it. He didn’t bother to soothe her, though. He couldn’t. He had to stay level with the fuckers before him; softness wasn’t an option, and so neither was reassurance.

“Look, I’m done with the casualties.” Bankotsu’s smile fell, dark blue eyes hosting vexation. “You can come with us so we can square this away once and for all, or I’ll actually make your life a living hell until you do. We know where your new school is now, and I’m fully prepared to repay the favor you did for me so long ago. Ginkotsu’s just itching to break some shit, and I’ll personally make sure your name is all over the damage.”

“Wait,” Miroku spoke, his tone the most serious Kagome had ever heard it before. It was thicker, deeper, even a little authoritative. He’d braced himself in front of Sango just as Inuyasha had done with her, only he’d pulled her back further so if anything did happen, they were out of immediate reach. “This doesn’t have to come down to any of that. Maybe we can reach a common ground.”

“I’m not really one for ‘talking out my problems.’” Bankotsu stated simply, using his fingers to create air quotes. “These are the options.”

“It’s fine.” Inuyasha said, loud enough to dissuade Miroku from speaking up again. “I’ll go.”

“Inuyasha -“

“After that, we’re done, right?”

“Yup.” Bankotsu smirked.

“You guys will finally leave me the fuck alone?”

“That’s the deal.”

“And, you wont go near Kagome again?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I’m fucking serious, Bankotsu.”

“I am, too!” He held up his hands defensively, thoroughly entertained by the abrasive temper of the hanyou. “Do your part, come with us, we’ll settle this, and we’ll never talk to your girlfriend ever again.”

Inuyasha swallowed thickly, nodding once in comprehension. “I’ll be right there.” He waited until the two guys created their distance, standing at the corner with their smug expressions, before he turned back to Kagome, finally releasing her arm. He opened his mouth to speak, his tongue barely clicking, before she beat him to the punch.

“You can’t be serious.” Her tone was direct and thick, brown eyes piercing him.

“Go home.” He ordered, not bothering to try and relieve her obvious concern.

“No. I’m going with you.”

“Fuck no, you’re not!” He all but growled. “Go home! Now!”

“No, I-“

“Kagome, do you actually fucking think if you keep insisting I’m going to cave and let you come!? You know we’re not gonna go sip some tea and make nice, right!? Do you fucking get that!?”

“All the more reason for me to come!” She argued, her voice growing sharper, louder.

“No, shut up! We’re not doing this! I’m not going to fight with you until you understand! You’re going to drop it and go home, and I will call you tonight! Got it!?” The hanyou seethed, ignoring the glower that pressed her reddened face. He turned to Miroku, his own concern at the situation showing through his furrowed brows. “Make sure she gets home. Walk her there. Or to Sango’s. I don’t fucking care, just get her out of here.”

“Inuyasha -“ Miroku tried again as he began to walk toward the two awaiting delinquents.

“Don’t. Just do me this fucking favor and keep her safe.” He said lowly, radiant eyes flickering back and forth from Miroku to Sango so they knew the message was for the both of them. “I’ll be fine. You and I both knew I was going to have to deal with this sooner or later.”

They watched him meet up with Bankotsu and Renkotsu, the half demon trailing just behind them as they led him off and out of sight.

Kagome was furious, her chest heaving, fingers furling into fists so tight that her nails pinched into her flesh. Then, before she could notice the transition, her anger shifted into heavy anxiety, her lungs trying to catch oxygen, as she began to panic at the thought of what may happen to Inuyasha in a matter of moments. She was trying to keep it together, removing her sight off of the empty space she’d just seen Inuyasha in and focusing on Miroku and Sango, waiting for somebody to say something. Sango stood there, baffled, shocked, her mouth hanging agape as she looked back at Kagome, and Miroku looked angry and defeated, but was clearly much better at appearing calm than the rest of them.

“What the fuck is going on?” Sango asked, the question open for anyone to answer, crossing the small distance to Kagome to rub her hand up and down her arm comfortingly.

“Inuyasha went through a dark period.” Miroku explained, following closely behind his girlfriend but leaving some space so Kagome wouldn’t feel crowded. “He got involved with a bad group for a while, and went about it all wrong when he wanted out.”

“What did he do?”

“He tried just leaving, but they wanted to give him shit for it. So, he wrecked their space when they weren’t there as a big fuck you.” Even Kagome shot him a look, expressing that she didn’t know that bit of information. “Come on, trust me, Kagome, he can handle this. To be instated into a group like that, you have to go through a beating. Getting out is all the same. He’s stronger now, more resilient, he’ll be fine.”

“Could you maybe explain that with a little more tact next time.” Sango fired.

“I’m being honest.” He said, his voice unwavering. “Kagome deserves the truth. This isn’t going to be a walk in the park, but this is something he can deal with. Alone. He has to.”

“Wait, so just how bad is this, though?” Kagome asked, a slight shake determinable in her tone. “Is it a huge gang? Or, are we talking three or four people? Are they humans? Demons? Do they have weapons? What’s going to happen?”

“Human, but I don’t know the specifics other than that. I doubt there’s more than ten of them, and the chances of them having lethal weapons are highly unlikely, but don’t quote me.”

“Ten?”

Miroku exhaled shallowly. “I don’t know.”

“They’re only getting further.” Sango mentioned to Kagome, letting go of her arm. Kagome nodded, the two of them, like always, clearly on the same wavelength. “I’ll call my dad.”

“What are you doing?” Miroku asked skeptically, stepping in their path.

“Going after them, obviously.” Sango replied, pulling out her phone to find her dad’s contact.

“No. No! Absolutely not! This isn’t something we should get involved in!”

“Inuyasha’s your friend, right!?” Kagome challenged.

“Yes, and if you two weren’t here, I guarantee I’d be with him right now, but that’s not the case! No wonder he told me to walk you home; you’re reckless!”

“You don’t know the half of it.” She affirmed. “You can back off and stay behind or you can come with and help, but if you try to stop me, I will personally show you how reckless I can be!”

He stood there, shocked, witnessing the burning fire in her irises grow larger, hotter, more threatening. There was no fighting her, that was for sure. He didn’t know what help they’d all be, but she was no sissy, so if she felt this was the right thing to do, he should stick by her. Letting her go off alone didn’t seem like the wisest choice on anyone’s behalf. If anything, he’d escort her to the setting of the incident, but he’d do his part and prevent her from getting in harm’s way.

Miroku gave in, his chest deflating as he cleared the way for Kagome to take the lead, the girl quick to start running in the same direction the other three had headed off in. Sango held her phone to her ear, running at Miroku’s side and keeping up, and when her dad answered, her heaving breath really helped the concerned hitch in her tone carry through. Any good father would react instantly to a panicked call from their child.

The drizzle began, light and cold, but Kagome was unbothered, her mind all over the place as she wondered which way they could have gone. Each alley they passed was looked down, each side street was checked, and she felt like they’d all lost their way until they happened upon two women running with their bags held over their heads, protecting themselves from the sudden strengthening of the rain.

“Excuse me!” Kagome called, stopping them in their path. “Have you seen a guy with dog ears pass by?”

“Hard to miss.” One replied. “Turned right just a little ways down.”

“How far?” Miroku asked, keeping his tone as mellow as possible. 

“Two blocks maybe?”

Without thanks, the three continued on, turning on the designated street and slowing as they saw no one. The street was narrow, almost resembling an alley but still inhabited by smaller homes. In her gut, Kagome felt like they may be close, but she couldn’t pinpoint how much further they’d have to go. She didn’t even know what they’d do to stop the fight, she just knew she had to do something. She couldn’t sit back and pretend everything was fine while Inuyasha was in a dangerous situation. That wasn’t possible.

Sango was trying to hush her argument with her father, insisting she was fine when he demanded she stay back and let him handle things, but they wouldn’t know where to go if she didn’t stay with Kagome. She was positive he’d get his squad to track her cellphone signal. If she led them to the spot, they’d be able to hurry there and hopefully prevent anything from getting serious. On a whim, she stopped talking altogether. He’d get the hint if she stayed on the line and didn’t speak. He’d understand she wasn’t going to give in, and he’d have to do his part without further argument. Aside from that, a rooting sensation told her it was time to quiet down. The street was ominous; maybe because of the current predicament, maybe because of the onslaught of rain and darkened skies. Either way, if they were close, she wasn’t going to tip anyone off that they were following. They were already at a disadvantage. Two small girls, one human boy, and one half demon boy against about maybe ten guys? Yeah, the odds were not in their favor, and she could only hope her dad was quick to arrive before anything escalated to that point.

“This way.” Miroku whispered, carrying ahead of the two of them with a light jog.

“Oh! It’s Inuyasha!” 

The hanyou grieved a sigh, rolling his eyes at the flamboyant guy that welcomed him as they approached the shaded area at the back of the old, battered, abandoned shop. The whole lot was there. All seven of them, six of them looking at him like he’d be fun to rip to pieces and the last looking at him like he was the most thrilling amusement ride. He wasn’t sure which he preferred. 

“Well, you guys haven’t changed.” He muttered.

“Not a really good time to talk shit, gotta tell you.” Suikotsu advised, grinning. His hair was dark brown, spiked and styled, his eyes slanted and daring, though his posture was lax, leaning back against the wall.

“It’s about time you manned up, half breed.” Mukotsu added. He was the shorter, uglier one of the bunch, looking about forty with his disadvantages but truthfully only sat at eighteen. Maybe nineteen - Inuyasha didn’t remember; he just knew they were all around the same age. Mukotsu’s biggest threat was his capability to give women the creeps when he stared as they passed by. Otherwise, he was one of the few Inuyasha hadn’t seen since he left, and if he had, he’d easily pummel to a pulp.

Still, even Inuyasha could admit, when it was seven against one, Mukotsu was someone he’d favor going head-to-head with. Kyokotsu and Ginkotsu were the tanks of the group. They were slow and dimwitted, but they were ungodly strong. Even against demons. Jakotsu was nimble and packed a punch, but the worst thing about him was the fact that he’d laugh when striking someone. It was slightly terrifying. For a person who claimed to always have a thing for Inuyasha, he sure enjoyed squaring up with him, too. Not quite the type of romance Inuyasha was into. Ever since the beginning, he always felt bad for potential boyfriends Jakotsu would have in the future; for obvious reasons. Suikotsu was, as everyone deemed him, the cool one. He wasn’t hot-headed, he wasn’t swayed by insults, he didn’t have a tendency to get too worked up. He was built, he knew how to clap back in more ways than one, but when the going got real, he got vicious. It was like a darker personality was rooted deep beneath the surface and it took ripe instigation to set it free, but god, if you did, good fucking luck. Bankotsu, the leader, liked to sit back and watch his men do his fighting for him. He was prideful. Every time Inuyasha saw him grin, it reeked of vanity and made him want to forcefully remove the smug look from his face. He was insanely intelligent, though. Maybe not as smart as Renkotsu, but he was right behind him. Inuyasha had personally witnessed Bankotsu bring Kyokotsu to his knees once, and he’s the largest and strongest. It’s all about strategy, figuring out weaknesses, utilizing them correctly, and it helped that he wasn’t anyone who could be considered weak, either. As sour as it was to confess, Bankotsu had earned his spot at the top.

“Let’s get this over with.” Inuyasha grumbled, making it sound like this was a waste of his time.

“You shouldn’t be in such a hurry to get your ass kicked.” Kyokotsu chuckled.

“For all the trouble he’s put us through, I say we tie him down first.” Jakotsu suggested, waggling his brows.

Inuyasha cringed, the actual threat behind it not capable of sinking in when Jakotsu was the one talking. But, when Ginkotsu and Renkotsu - who sauntered over to join the lot of them - chimed in to agree, the hanyou felt the weight of it. That’d leave him helpless to their ruthless beating, potentially too damaged to even get himself home on his own. They weren’t killers; he was confident Bankotsu would stop them when enough was enough and felt satisfied with the amount of blood Inuyasha spit to the ground, but seven against one was already a handicap. It would be merciless to tie his hands behind his back and expect him to lie there and take it.

“That doesn’t sound like your style.” Inuyasha countered quickly, aiming to subtly challenge Bankotsu’s pride. “Do you guys see me as that much of a threat that you have to prevent me from fighting back?”

Six of them laughed, impudence laced with incredulity. Good.

“You don’t stand a chance against all of us!” Ginkotsu declared.

“Then why tie me down?”

“Why should you get the chance to defend yourself?” Renkotsu opposed.

“I thought this was all about how you were better than me. How can you prove you’re superior to anyone if you had to tie your opponents hands behind their back to win?” Inuyasha coolly bargained.

“No, he’s right.” Bankotsu agreed, his tone even, a charming grin on his lips. “He wants to fight back, he can fight back. There’s no way he’ll win, and he knows it. No pinning, no holding, and nothing below the belt. Good?”

Inuyasha particularly favored the last motion, knowing it was directed at Ginkotsu. Not that it was necessary, but that fucker always fought dirty.

The rain was really coming down now, droplets bouncing off of the asphalt as they fell from the sky with force, the sound of them clapping down filling the silence among the men. Just about all of them were smiling with odd delight, some moving forward from under the shelter provided by the eaves of the shop, some of them staying put to wait their turns. Inuyasha allowed his book bag to fall from his shoulder, grabbing the strap before it hit the floor and tossing it off to the side, out of the way, and then pulled his already-rolled sleeves further up passed his elbows. 

His breathing was tight, intentional, heating his body from within while he waited, observing the way the vultures began to surround. He couldn’t help but wonder who was going to instigate by throwing the first punch. On top of that, he couldn’t help but wonder how long this would last or how far this would go. When he was first circled by this crowd a little over two years ago, asking for entrance, willing to pay whatever price to fit in somewhere, it was rough. They challenged him one at a time, and each handed his ass to him like it was nothing. He wasn’t well-versed in fighting then. His swings were limp and sloppy, and his kicks were more like flailed legs. Given the experience he’d received since then, he was a lot more structured and advanced now. That was the only reason he’d been able to hold the upper hand against them when they came at him individually during run-ins. Even the few times it was two against one, he still held his own. Seven against one, god he could laugh for the mess he’d gotten himself into. He knew it was only a matter of minutes before he was overwhelmed by the attack, but he’d be damned if he’d give in without one hell of a fight. He’d stand for as long as he could.

Amber eyes landed on Kyokotsu as he happily approached, bracing, but after Inuyasha was punched in the jaw from the right, he realized the troll was the distraction so Bankotsu could unsuspectingly get the first hit and throw him off kilter. The hanyou reacted, briefly rubbing out his face as he turned back to meet Bankotsu’s bitter smile.

“You’ve held yourself pretty well against everyone here before, so let’s see how you fair against me first.”

“My pleasure.” Inuyasha said a little too gladly. If there was anyone he’d love to fuck up, aside from Renkotsu’s bitch ass, it was Bankotsu. It probably would have pleased the bastard to know he’d successfully gotten beneath Inuyasha’s skin, but who the fuck cared at this point? There’s no better face to make his knuckles bleed from hitting so hard.

Bankotsu, with a dangerous glint in his eye, came forward, dodged Inuyasha’s defensive swing just to show off how quick he was and then went at him again, veering enough for Inuyasha to barely graze him, ducking, and then elbowing him in the side of his ribcage. The half demon had tensed in time to avoid having the wind completely knocked out of him, and in a growl of agitation, he reached for the cocky fucker, spun him to fully face him, and decked him square in the nose. It was like the fun was wiped clean off of the other six, and they began closing in for their turns, but Bankotsu held up his hands to stop them, inadvertently giving them all a glimpse at the blood seeping from his nostrils. When they heeded his silent order, Bankotsu chuckled, running the back of his thumb beneath his nose to see the crimson damage for himself.

“Let’s have some fun.” The leader smiled.

Her heart was racing a mile a minute, thundering in her chest, and as the three of them stopped jogging the little ways they’d gone, trying to figure out where the hell to go next, she ran her shaking fingers through her thick, wet hair to keep it from sticking to her face any longer. Sango and Miroku stood ahead of her, and they began walking again, but as her feet moved to follow she caught the very faint sound of grunts and shouts coming from her right. Kagome didn’t even bother alerting her friends, she just took off in that direction, following the pull in her gut, her shoes slapping against the wet pavement as she ran down a dim alley.

Miroku, having heard the slight scuffle of feet from behind, turned around, noticing Kagome was gone. He hissed a curse, grabbing Sango’s shoulder to direct her, her perception of hearing probably thrown from her father talking in her ear. Another curse, this time louder when he grew aggravated at just how similar Kagome seemed to his best friend; a little brash, a little impetuous, a little irrational, and a little stupid.

“Dad, I’ll call you back.” Sango said, hanging up before he had an opportunity to protest, something she felt she should have done from the start; she wanted to alert him and have them lock onto her signal, and she knew that only took a matter of minutes once they got the ball rolling, and she’d only stayed for his sense of comfort from that point on. “Where did she go?” Her voice was higher, on the frantic side as she ran over to the nearest alley, figuring it was the only possible route.

Sango didn’t even bother thinking it through, running down the pathway with Miroku sticking close behind. On the other side of it, there was a broken, brick wall, the lowest parts of the unstable structure sitting at about shoulder height for her with an opening a little further to their right. Immediately peering over the shabby pieces, they noticed the group taking their hits on Inuyasha across the street, and Sango’s jaw dropped at the sight. 

Miroku squeezed from behind her, acting quickly, running towards the opening as fast as he could and snagging Kagome by wrapping an arm around her lower abdomen, picking her up, and spinning her around. As gently as he could in his hasty reaction, Miroku set her down, pushing her back a few feet to be shielded behind taller-standing bricks.

“Are you crazy? Have you assessed the situation at all, Kagome?” He kept his voice low so as to not attract attention. Her cheeks were brightly flushed, her brows furrowed deeply and chest heaving air into her lungs.

“We don’t have time for that!” 

“What’s your plan?” He challenged. “What could you possibly do to break that up? Run into the middle and use your girlish charm to stop everyone mid-swing? No! This shit doesn’t work like that! It’s not even one-on-one, they’re jumping him!” Kagome’s chin quivered at that, but Miroku continued. “Did you ever stop to think of the repercussions of interrupting? You could -“

“Why did you come then, Miroku?”

“To see if there was anything we could do! It doesn’t take a genius to know that there isn’t at a glance.” Kagome opened her mouth to respond, but he silenced her by planting his palm over it. “You could make this so much worse for him. Think about it. If you run out there, he’s going to be so focused on protecting you, he won’t even stand a chance in defending himself. They could grow angrier because of your boldness and take it out on him. Do you want that?”

It took a moment. A tense moment where her cheeks had puffed beneath his hand and her eyes squinted from the anxiety, imagining the scenario, allowing it to sink in, her lids blinking rapidly from the raindrops that curved along her face. Then, she shook her head to answer his question, giving in when she realized he was right. Miroku released her, breathing out, his eyes apologetic at how rough he’d had to get, but she understood. She looked over at Sango who was watching over the wall, her phone to her ear and her voice soft as she spoke.

“Daddy,” She whispered unsteadily when her father answered the phone. “Seven. There’s seven of them.”

Seven.

Against one.

Kagome sucked in a ragged breath, holding it in her chest as she turned to look at the scene, her heart plummeting to the floor as she watched Inuyasha cough out and double over. It’s not like she knew better from worse, but it seemed they were going at him rougher than what was deemed necessary. Another hit from a huge guy and he was on the ground. She winced alongside Miroku, ignoring the gentle hand on her arm that tried to tug her away. The second attempt was stronger, successful, and Sango pulled her into a tight hug. She could even hear her dad talking through the phone, and as soon as they confirmed they had the location, Sango hung up and dropped her cell in the pocket of her bag.

“Dad’s on his way. It’s gonna be fine.” She reassured her, but Kagome pushed out of the hug, giving a cheap smile in appreciation. This wasn’t about her. No matter how helpless she felt, which was exponentially so, she didn’t want this sort of attention. It only amplified how she could do nothing to stop what was happening.

With a shaky sigh, Kagome leaned her back against the wall, attempting to tune out the horrific sounds of Inuyasha’s grunting, the growling, the coughs and wheezes, the noises of the impacts of fists and kicks meeting his body, the curses from the culprits’ mouths, the goading and coaxing to get him back up so they could continue. And then, a pulsation rippled the atmosphere, instantaneously making Kagome feel sick to her stomach.

She could hear him telling them to stop, urgently repeating the word. Demanding they hold back for a moment.

Another ripple, and a lump formed in Kagome’s throat, threatening to make her puke. She looked over at Sango, and it seemed like she noticed it, too. Then, she looked over at Miroku whose eyes were wide as he was the only one who was witnessing the events.

The fighting sounded like it was ceasing, and Inuyasha made a noise like he was in pain. But, his voice was heavy, gruffer than ever before, a deadly growl warning everyone to step back.

Another pulse, and Kagome knew something was horribly wrong. Defying the disgusting sensations pitting in her abdomen, she looked out, noticing the half demon against the floor, bracing himself, breathing thickly.

“I think,” Miroku spoke. “I think his demon blood is taking over.”

“What does that mean?” Kagome quickly questioned, looking back and forth from Inuyasha to Miroku.

“It’s like fight or flight, but flight is no longer an option.”

“He’s one-hundred percent fight.” Sango added, watching beside them.

“And, when you’re one-hundred percent anything, you’re blinded to rationality. I heard this can happen when the body is convinced they’re in mortal danger. Like, a trigger of some sort.” Miroku said. 

They watched an aggressive shudder vividly crawl over Inuyasha’s back, his claws swinging when one of the attacking men tried to get close to him as he remained in his folded position. 

“We need to stop the fight. We need to calm him down.” Kagome launched to run, surprised neither of them tried to stop her. The fight was just about over, anyway. The seven men had backed up, watching what seemed like a transformation come alive, some skeptical, some shocked, and some entertained.

Sango followed Kagome, grabbing two broken bricks from the ground in preparation, and when they cleared the opening of the wall and sprinted across the street, Kagome screaming for them to stop, Sango threw a brick right at the back of the widest guy, stealing his attention. Miroku was right next to her within another passing second, his own bricks in hand.

“I’m a good fucking shot, Shrek! You don’t want me to throw one of these at your face!” Sango yelled as he turned around and scowled. “Back off!”

“I suggest you guys get away from him!” Miroku insisted. “That’s his demon side coming through, and it only gets more dangerous from here on out!”

Seeing an opening, Kagome ran straight through, slowing the moment she was within the barrier. She dropped her bag where she stood, watching his breathing slow, steady, even out. He was unfurled, supported on his hands and knees, but his sight was glued to the asphalt beneath him. His silver hair was hued darker, soaked with rain, the ends of his bangs waving and dripping with water. From the side she approached, she could see his face, his ponytail curving around his opposite shoulder. She could see the blood that dropped from his mouth and the scrapes on his temple. More so, she could see the purple markings that faded in on his cheekbone, progressively darkening as if they’d always belonged.

She knew some demons had marks from birth. It had something to do with their lineage or heritage; she wasn’t very educated on it. Inuyasha had none, though. Was his demon blood so potent when provoked?

Still, she needed him to know she was there. That there was no reason to be worked up anymore. The cops were coming, and he didn’t have to worry.

Kagome knelt beside him, waiting a small moment for him to notice her. Nothing. No reaction. So, ever so gently, she placed her hand on his shoulder, the white cloth of his shirt sopping, translucent, the tint of his skin showing from beneath.

“Hey,” She breathed, allowing the weight of her hand to increasingly settle. “Don’t be mad, okay? I followed, but -“

Her sentence was cut off by her own sharp gasp as Inuyasha clutched the front of her top. His reflexes were insanely fast; she hadn’t even seen him move, nor did she have the time for much else before he yanked her an ounce closer and then forcefully shoved her away. Their position didn’t allot for her to be thrown very far, but he had still proved his unforgiving strength, having created some sort of distance and having caused a minor road rash along the back of her thigh that she’d never expected to receive from something like this.

Kagome was quick to throw her hand up when Miroku and Sango shouted her name, silently trying to tell them she was fine and not to come closer. This wasn’t Inuyasha. Inuyasha would never hurt her. Inuyasha would never hurt anyone he cared about. The offending group had spread out further, but their chuckles were almost as loud as boisterous laughter and she wanted to scream at them to shut up. This was their fault.

She’d been propped on her elbow, in shock at what had just happened, brown eyes glued to the half demon, no, full demon just feet away from her, tediously beginning to pick himself up to a standing. She’d managed to bring herself to a full sitting position, the hypnotizing sight before her making it easy to ignore the slight burning on the back of her leg from skimming the ground. As they appeared, Kagome noted each and every difference about him in this state. His smile was deadly, defiant, crooked, and confident. The purple markings on his cheeks were vibrant now, having made home. His claws were longer, more threatening. His shoulders were broad, full, carrying no trace of burdens or insecurity. And, his eyes. Kagome inhaled tremblingly, her chest hitching and throat tightening. She’d never seen eyes like this before. The sclera was a terrifying shade of red - not even closely resembling bloodshot eyes. They were just red. And, his irises were bright blue. Like, vigorous electricity struck through them.

Inuyasha stood tall, looking down on her, blood lightly trickling from his lips, to his chin, spotting the front of his soaked shirt. He gave her a shrug of his brows as he licked the corner of his mouth, shifting his attention to the men scattered around. His feet glided along the rough floor as he slowly turned about, taking in the features of each individual, his smile showing amusement.

“What’s wrong?” His voice was so low, so husky, it almost rang seductively, but she realized that the sensation she felt crawl up her spine was fear. He created that with two, simple words. “Why do you guys look so afraid? Realized you went a little too far and can’t handle the consequences?”

“Inuyasha?” She softly spoke, pushing her legs beneath her so she could stand. He didn’t regard her in the least.

It was hard not to be overcome by her dominating emotions. She was angry, and scared, and anxious, and overall just didn’t know what to do to help. Where was Inuyasha? How was she supposed to reach him?

The only logical - if logic was applicable here - idea that popped into her head was to get him to focus on her. He was in there. If she could catch his attention, someway, somehow, maybe he’d come back. Unfortunately, her apprehension was prevalent. She felt nauseous, not only from his energy but from the trepidation that maybe she wasn’t powerful or significant enough to succeed. 

Thickly, Kagome swallowed, pretending her saliva was built of anything holding her back, and on her next inhale, she pushed through it all.

“Inuyasha, it’s me.” Carefully, she began to approach, watching every little move he made intently. He chuckled sinisterly, lolling his head back as he swiveled on his heel to face her.

“And, who the fuck are you?” He asked slowly, grinning still, his tone carefree but remaining low. Like, a different person was talking through a vessel.

It stung. Ice crept through the cavity of her chest to hear those words from Inuyasha’s lips.

“Kagome. I’m Kagome.” She leveled. 

She observed the way his features gave way slightly, igniting hope. His brows had pinched together minutely, and the corners of his lips faltered, curving downward for a moment before he fixed them to sit straight.

“Doesn’t ring a bell.” He stated, turning to face Bankotsu who stared back with distaste. “You, on the other hand… you don’t look so tough now, do you, hot shot?”

“Hey, it’s - it’s over. No one’s fighting anymore.” The rain was stopping, diminishing to a light sprinkle. Kagome walked forward, inching again to close the space between them. “So, let’s - let’s go. Can we go now, please?”

Inuyasha snarled, stabbing her with a dangerous warning of a glare, causing her to involuntarily flinch and still. “Back. Off.”

“You may not remember me right now, and that’s okay, but I know who you are. You mean so much -“

“Get away!”

Another flinch, but Kagome was deliberately relentless.

“Just the fact that you’re not attacking me -“

“Did you want me to!?” Inuyasha’s voice was loud and thunderous, and as she trembled again, he sidestepped away from her. “Because, I will if you don’t want to tread carefully!”

“Inuyasha, it’s done!” Her voice was raspy with her desperation. “Calm down! There’s no reason to keep fighting anymore!”

He gave an exaggerated scoff, dragging out the sound as he rolled his eyes vehemently. “See these guys? That’s seven reasons.”

“Fuck it, I’m tired of the dramatics!” One of them announced, his face marred with evidence of a few solid hits to the same spot. His tone held rage, his body language screamed that he was annoyed, and the way his jaw was set told her his adrenaline was still spiked. He wasn’t one of the obnoxiously large guys; he had an average build with a stare that could kill. “If he still wants to fight, I’m willing to knock him back down!”

“That’s what I fucking thought.” Inuyasha smiled, his entire body turning around to greet the approaching aggressor.

“No!” Before Kagome could even run forward, Miroku was on the man, pushing him back and slugging him in the cheek. He was shouting, telling him to stop being an idiot, taking a couple hits of his own, but Kagome’s eyes shifted back to the demon in the center. He was growling, the sound a threat on its own, dangerous eyes on Miroku, then traveling about the six others.

“Who’s next, then?”

“Stop!” Kagome implored. The plan to ease his way was thrown, and she lunged forward, grabbing his forearm to steal his attention, force it on her, even going so far as to give him a pull back in her direction, his body sturdier than she’d ever remembered it being before.

He reacted swiftly, turning back to her, ripping out of her hold and then grasping her upper arms with bruising force. She gasped shakily, wincing, and his grip on her seemed to decrease a fraction.

“What did I fucking tell you!?” Inuyasha yelled in her face, and she whimpered at his ferocious demeanor, succumbing to the weight of the stress of it all. Her eyes burned with quick-brimming tears and she couldn’t prevent her face from crinkling, or her chin from quivering, or the way her body had tensed substantially.

“Inuyasha, please. I don’t know how to help, but I want to. Are you afraid?” It was difficult to look up at him with how she just wanted to shrink down, his body curled over her, hair no longer dripping as the rain had completely ceased. She did, though. She leaned her head back, crying just a little harder when she noticed he wasn’t breathing. His throat was visibly tight, but his eyes were boring into her, signifying that he was still present. “I am. I’m really scared right now. I just want you back. The real you.”

She heard the grunt release from his lips, his eyes closing, shutting tight as he seemed to struggle with himself a little, but as he grunted again, his hands inadvertently clenched against her arms, a sharp pain stabbing the back of her left arm where his fingers pinched in. Kagome tensed her abdomen, her chest, her throat, trying to bite back the whine that threatened to spill, ducking her head to hide her twisted expression.

Inuyasha brought her closer, her face mere inches from his chest. His breathing was ragged. Rough. His growl was nonexistent. His body radiated heat like a furnace cranked up to its highest setting. 

Kagome watched the way his chest moved, pumping air in and out of his lungs, progressively evening out, and the deeper and more serene his breaths got, the less pressure he applied to her arms, his hands slightly trembling as he let her go little-by-little.

Inuyasha took a single, staggering step back, and Kagome chanced a look at him, his golden eyes staring at his right hand, then fluttering back down to her. His irises were dull, lackluster, his lips slightly parted in confusion.

“Are you… are you okay now?”

The nod he gave was so subtle it was hardly detectable, but she watched his jaw move as he mouthed the softest “yeah,” his lips sealing immediately after.

With a heavy sigh of relief, Kagome pulled herself into his chest, her arms wrapping around his waist, fingers gripping the back of his shirt as her inhale brought her chest to tremble against him.

| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 10 |

[zigsexual]

What sort of love drama takes place in your HP AU (specifically all of the juicy Maxwell/Riley drama)?

me? writing an entire fic in response to this question? putting all the brewing love drama in one single scene? yes bitch i said it !

• • •

“I don’t see why we have to waste our Hogsmede trip just because —“

“Shh!” Riley waves a hand in his face, frowning. “I’m trying to listen to what they’re saying.”

Drake sighs, taking another sip of his butterbeer. They’ve been in this booth for over an hour now, and Riley still refuses to let him leave. Says it’ll ‘look suspicious’ if she’s here by herself.

“Why will it look suspicious?” he’d asked her, but she’d only shushed him, eyes flashing with an intensity he didn’t dare cross.

He’s convinced now that they might never leave, what with Riley attentively focused on the table only a few feet away, where Penelope from Hufflepuff is gazing fondly at Maxwell. She’s leaning forward, her chin resting demurely on her hand, in direct contrast to the way Maxwell is animately telling her some story several decibels above an acceptable volume.

“Really, though,” Drake tries again, “It looks like he’s doing fine, maybe we can just meet him at Honeydukes after like we planned?”

“I have to make sure she isn’t trying to use him,” Riley says, eyes still intently focused on the other table. “He’s too nice, you know. People take advantage of that.”

“I highly doubt anyone is taking advantage of Maxwell.”

She shoots him a glare.

“What? I mean, honestly, what would anyone be using him for?”

“His connections,” Riley says. “You know how his family is.”

“Yeah, I know that they’ve essentially disowned him and there’s no way he’s getting access to any of those ‘connections.’” Drake frowns, surveying her. “Seriously, Riley, why are we here? Can you at least —“

The door to the pub swings open, letting in a gust of freezing air and a slew of Ravenclaws, led at the front by Hana Lee. It doesn’t take her long to spot the two of them, and she waves excitedly, already crossing the room even as Riley ducks her head and hisses, “Shit, she’s gonna blow our cover.”

Drake rolls his eyes at her. “What cover?” 

Hana stops just in front of their booth, pink-cheeked and smiling. She’s still got her scarf wrapped around her neck, all the way up past her chin, Prefect badge neatly affixed as always. “Hi Riley! Drake!”

She pulls off her hat, shaking out her hair, which falls down neatly around her shoulders without so much as a single flyaway. Normally, Drake would chalk it up to magic, but these sorts of things come naturally to Hana. 

Everything comes naturally to Hana.

“We’re —“ Riley starts, but Drake cuts her off: “We’re spying on Maxwell and his date.”

Riley kicks him under the table, but Hana doesn’t seem to notice. She glances over her shoulder, eyes falling on Penelope. “Oh!” She turns back, eyebrows raised. “I didn’t know they were together.”

“They’re not,” Riley says, tone a bit too harsh for her feigned indifference.

“Well, that’s sweet,” Hana smiles. “I’m glad I ran into you guys, actually. Did you know Liam’s staying for holiday this year? He just told me this week, so I promised I’d invite him to all our little traditions. Won’t that be fun?”

“Oh god,” Riley groans dramatically, “Double the Prefects? We won’t be able to get into any shenanigans.”

“There’s plenty we can do without shenanigans —“

“Yeah, plenty of boring things, like reading or studying or reading about studying —”

“You said Liam is staying?” Drake interrupts. Because there’s only one Liam. Hana’s Ravenclaw counterpart, son of the Minister of Magic.

Hana seems grateful from the reprieve from Riley’s teasing. “Yes. He hasn’t mentioned why, but from what I can imagine…”

She’s still talking, but he’s already tuned her out upon hearing the affirmation. He can tell the exact moment Riley does, too, because she suddenly turns towards him with a funny look on her face, the realization beginning to set in.

Her eyes widen, and she whispers, “Oh my god. Hot Prefect.”

“What?” Hana says.

“Nothing. Carry on.” Now it’s Drake’s turn to kick her under the table, because yes — Liam also happens to be the very same boy Maxwell and Riley have spent the better part of two years calling ‘Hot Prefect’ in a continuous effort to embarrass Drake and ultimately drive him to murder them.

(Which, really, there had only been the one time he’d actually said those words, and it was in a moment of weakness after too much stolen firewhiskey, and they truly had no business continuing to bring it up the way they did. It’s not he gives them half as much shit about anything they’ve done.)

“I should have him come say hi,” Hana stands on her tiptoes, surveying the crowded room . “Don’t tell anyone, but I think he’s a bit shy about it all, he could use a chance to get familiar with you.”

“We’d love to get familiar with him,” Riley grins, “Wouldn’t we, Drake?”

He checks to make sure Hana is sufficiently distracted before leaning in close and hissing, “I will crucio your ass, Brooks, don’t think I won’t.”

She sticks her tongue out at him. “As if. You’re like, failing Charms.”

Hana finally spots Liam amongst a group of other Ravenclaws and begins waving at him excitedly, gesturing towards the booth with a smile once she catches his attention. “Liam! Over here!”

Drake’s mouth goes completely dry at his approach.

It’s honestly unfair to just call him hot. He’s devastatingly handsome, like the protagonist of one of Savannah’s regency romance movies (which Drake has definitely not watched): cheeks flushed from the cold, hair a little windblown, dressed in a perfectly fitted navy sweater. When he reaches Hana’s side, he nods to each of them, smiling shyly, and he’s so pretty it hurts — like being hit with a bludger. A love bludger. Fuck.

“Nice to meet you,” Liam says, polite as ever. Riley returns the greeting, but Drake can only stare. 

“Hana tells us you’re joining the motley crew, then?”

“So it seems,” Liam answers. “What should I expect?”

“Hmm.” Riley glances at Drake out of the corner of her eye. “Incredibly sexy singles. Loads of hookups. Maybe an orgy or two.”

Hana laughs nervously, turning to look at Liam with wide eyes. “She’s kidding, obviously. Riley, tell Liam you’re kidding.”

Riley merely raises her eyebrows and takes a sip of her butterbeer. Hana looks mortified, but Liam only laughs, although he’s definitely a bit more flushed than he was before.

There are so few of them who stay over break; the misfits with fucked up families or no families at all. They’ve grown accustomed to each other over the years, a silent acknowledgement of their particular lot in life, and it’s rare anyone adds to the group. 

Especially someone like Liam. 

Hana’s been part of the crew since day one. Her parents aren’t dead, but they are terrible, and she always seemed to relish the chance to be away from them a few weeks more. Each year, she comes up with a new elaborate research project that requires her to stay, an excuse her parents will not only accept, but be proud of. 

“Anyway,” Riley says, finishing off her drink, “If it’s not obvious, I’m Riley. And that’s Drake.” She gestures in his direction, mischief all over her face. “He’s the keeper on Gryffindor’s team. Highly sought after, in case you didn’t know.”

God, he’s going to hex her into next Tuesday when they get back to the castle.

“Liam never goes to the Quidditch games,” Hana says. “I keep trying to convince him.”

Drake and Riley must both look horrified at this admission, because Liam rubs at his neck awkwardly upon seeing their faces. “It’s not that I don’t want to go. I’m just… busy.”

“Too busy for Quidditch?” Riley scoffs.

“Too busy for most things, really,” Liam says. “I’m afraid I’m not much fun.”

Riley leans back in her seat. “Well, we can’t have that if you’re going to be spending Christmas with us.”

“You could come to the match next Friday.” Drake blurts out, before his better judgement can stop him. “We’re playing Slytherin, so you can cheer for us.”

There’s a hint of a smile on Liam’s face. “And what if I only root for Ravenclaw?”

“Well, cheer for me — er, me and Riley — then,” Drake says, suddenly bold. Must be all the butterbeer. “We can be a neutral third party.”

Riley is kicking him under the table again, but he ignores her.

“I’ll think about it,” Liam answers, his shy smile back on his face. This time, however, it’s fully directed at Drake, and the unrelenting focus renders him completely useless.

“Cool,” he manages to reply, voice a little higher than it should be. Riley kicks him harder.

Liam runs a hand through his hair, and the gesture makes Drake’s cheeks go hot. “Maybe we could —“

Before he can say anything else, an unwelcome voice breaks into their conversation, light and airy with a hint of an untraceable (and perhaps manufactured) accent: “We’re about to order, so if either of you want food…”

The girl behind said voice pops into view between Hana and Liam, pausing when her eyes fall on the booth, only for her face to instantly break into a smile so wide it threatens to overtake her whole face. “Hi Drake.”

He avoids eye contact, even though he can feel her gaze boring into him. “…Hi Kiara.”

“And hello to you, too,” Riley quips, rolling her eyes. “Such a warm welcome, as always.”

“Are you joining us?” Kiara asks, ignoring Riley completely. “It’s a house outing, technically, but I’m sure we can make an exception.”

“Oh, no,” Hana says, “We just stopped to say hi, I’m fairly certain they were about to —“

Kiara puts her hand firmly on Hana’s shoulder, effectively shutting down her dismissal. “Again, I’m sure we can make an exception.”

It’s a blessed coincidence that, at the same moment, Penelope and Maxwell finish up and stand to leave, putting Kiara directly in Penelope’s field of vision. Upon seeing her best friend, Penelope squeals loud enough to break through the din of the pub and scurries over to fling her arms around Kiara, sending the other girl stumbling backwards.

“I didn’t know you’d be here!” Penelope says gleefully. “And you brought so many friends!”

Maxwell is close behind her, investigating as well, and his face lights up when he sees Riley and Drake. “Oh, hey! Perfect timing, I was just about to head to Honeydukes.”

He pushes past Hana and slides into the booth alongside Riley, slinging his arm around her shoulder with a grin. “You didn’t say anything about being here too. You should’ve come over and said hi, there was plenty of room.”

Riley rolls her eyes. “You were otherwise occupied.”

Kiara, who has finally put two and two together, looks at Penelope with renewed interest. “You’re here with Maxwell? You didn’t tell me you two were dating.”

“That’s because they’re not,” Riley mutters under her breath.

“We were getting drinks,” Penelope says, smiling vacantly as she often does. It’s a wonder she’s so close with a Ravenclaw; half the time Drake’s convinced there isn’t anything going on in her head. The very idea that she’s somehow capable of ‘taking advantage’ of anyone, let alone Maxwell, should be laughable.

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Kiara claps her hands together excitedly. “Maxwell, we should do a double date sometime! Wouldn’t that be fun? You, me, Pen, and Drake.”

“No,” Drake says. 

Kiara just swats at his shoulder, laughing. “You’re so funny! Isn’t he funny?”

“Well,” Hana interjects, looking decidedly uncomfortable at the new influx of people, “I suppose we should get going. The food’s probably ready.”

“It was nice to meet you both,” Liam adds, clearly taking the opportunity to bow out as well. Fucking Kiara.

“Maybe we’ll see you at the match?” Riley shoots him an expectant smile. 

It’s always hard to argue with her enthusiasm, and Liam relents a bit. “Maybe,” he answers, and then Hana is tugging him back towards the bar, Kiara and Penelope — thankfully — following in her wake.

[joe-mazzello-archive]

The Strangers - Chapter One - Cold as Ice

A Joe Mazzello x OC fic

Word Count: 5.8k

Chapter Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption, sexual references

A/N: Here we go, gang! Please please please feel free to send me feedback/questions/theories. I want to hear from y’all! Also I do technically have a playlist for this series but since each chapter is a song title, the playlist is a bit on the spoilery side so I’ll wait until after it’s finished to link it. Also sorry that Ben is accidentally Barney Stinson. I needed someone to balance out Joe.

Joe shifted in the cold leather chair he sat in. He couldn’t help but fidget as he patiently waited for the door to the office across from him to open. He looked at his watch. 4:32pm. He’d been waiting for over ten minutes now, hoping that somehow his punctuality would make the meeting to go well.

His eyes wandered to the plaque next to the door. Theatre Arts Department Chair was engraved neatly into the gold metal. He couldn’t help but smile as he thought back to a conversation he had with Ben a week ago, before the meeting had even been scheduled.

“Mate, the fact that you’re not already the department chair over that old geezer is beyond me!” Ben had all but shouted through the crowded bar, swinging his mostly empty beer bottle around wildly. “I mean he doesn’t do shit! He sits at his big desk doing fuck all and takes a huge check home every month! You’re the one who really runs that department.” Joe threw his head back in laughter.

“Well last time I checked, he’s still got the title and I’m still a lowly professor. But I appreciate your enthusiasm, Ben,” Joe replied before finishing off his own beer.

“You should just take that shiny gold plate off the wall and hang it next to your office. See how long it takes that idiot to even notice!” Ben countered before waving down the bartender. Joe noticed and pushed his friend’s arm down.

“I think we’re both done for the night, dude. Besides, you’ve been so focused on me you haven’t even picked out your prey for the night,” Joe teased.

“Ey! Don’t call the women I sleep with and then never call again ‘prey’! I’m offended you think so little of me, Joseph,” Ben argued, before turning to survey the room.

The conversation seemed so long ago to Joe. What had started as a rant about how the department didn’t have enough funding to put on the shows he wanted to do led to a discussion about how Joe hadn’t received a raise in years. Ben urged him to setup a meeting with the department chair. The next day he found himself sending an email to his boss, asking to discuss the plans for the department for the next term.

A day after that, Joe regretted ever hitting send. In his inbox sat an email reply from the grumpy old man himself.

Sure. My office, Friday 4:30pm.

And there he sat, outside that very office, his knee bouncing the messenger bag that sat on his lap as he rehearsed in his head what he wanted to say to the man.

Finally, the door opened and Joe all but jumped to his feet.

“Mr. Mazzello, come on in,” the man growled, his deep gravelly voice giving the impression that he had a perpetual sore throat. Joe shuffled into the large office, eyes glued to the floor, heart pounding. He cursed himself for listening to Ben. He’s rarely listened to Ben before. Why did he start now?

The old man grunted as he sat down, his desk chair that had been there since the department was built squeaking underneath his weight. Joe took a seat in one of the dusty chairs on the other side of the large wooden desk. Clearly this office rarely saw visitors.

As the old man adjusted his tie and glasses, Joe took a moment to glance around the spacious office. The off-white walls were bare except for a few certificates framed behind the elder man’s head. A small bookshelf sat off to the side, the shelves half empty, with only various binders and knick knacks cluttering the spaces. In the corner sat a tall filing cabinet that looked like it hadn’t been touched in decades. The man’s desk was almost bare except for a laptop computer, a pile of papers, and one lone picture frame that faced him. Joe couldn’t help but be curious as to who’s face the chairman looked at all day long, considering the man had never married nor had children.

The room was the complete opposite of Joe’s chaotic office. Every bit of wall space in Joe’s office was covered in posters for previous productions, show programs, and framed photos of casts and crews from shows past. He hadn’t seen the actual top of his desk since his first year as a professor, every inch being covered in scripts and books.

“I believe you mentioned in your email that you wanted to discuss next term. If I recall correctly, I already approved next year’s season of shows,” the man said, his head cocked to the side as he stared at the young professor. Joe wrung his hands together as worked up the nerve to respond.

“Yes sir, you did,” was Joe’s simple reply, his voice shaky.

“Then what more needs discussing?” the man asked, somewhat incredulously. Joe took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully.

“This past term, we ran into roadblocks when it came to our budget for our productions. We wanted to do things that weren’t realistic when it came to what funding we did have. So I dipped into my own funds to make those things happen. And as a result, we put on some of the best shows the department has ever done.” Joe suddenly found a burst of confidence, surprised at how assured his statements sounded.

“I was unaware of this. Did you submit for reimbursement? That can easily be arranged,” the man replied, his demeanor softening at Joe’s words. Joe felt the energy in the room shift; as if Joe was now in control of the conversation.

“I honestly don’t think that’s necessary, sir. What I am asking for is that you find more in the department budget for our productions, so we can make these things happen with nothing to hold us back,” Joe proposed, the quivering in his voice completely gone now.

The man paused for a moment, processing what had just been asked of him. He turned to his laptop, squinting as he began to mash at the keyboard. Joe sat frozen, his confidence beginning to waver as he waited with bated breath for the old man’s reply. After what felt like an hour, but was probably no more than ten seconds, the man turned back to the auburn-haired professor.

“Consider it done.”

Joe’s eyes widened and he suddenly found it hard to breathe.

“Sir?” he squeaked out.

“I was extremely impressed with this past season. If you’re telling me you can continue to reach that level of quality and beyond, I see no reason to not expand the production budget,” the man continued. Joe couldn’t help but grin like an idiot, surprised at the response he had gotten.

“Thank you sir, we can absolutely do that,” Joe replied, nodding almost too eagerly. The old man turned back to his laptop, typing away once again.

“I’m also going to approve a 10% salary increase for you,” the man added before standing up and stretching out his hand.

Joe mirrored his actions, getting up so fast that the blood rushed to his head. He took the man’s hand and shook it vigorously.

“Thank you, so much sir. I don’t know what to say,” Joe spat out, realizing that he was probably shaking the man’s hand too long. Joe released the chairman’s hand, realizing his own hands were jittery with excitement.

“No need to say any more, I actually have another meeting in a few minutes. Enjoy the rest of your Friday, Mr. Mazzello,” the man answered, sitting back down and immediately turning back to his computer, as if Joe wasn’t even in the room anymore.

“You too, sir. Thank you again!” Joe crowed as he grabbed his bag and moved towards the exit. The man didn’t even look back up.

It wasn’t until Joe was back in his own office that he truly processed everything that had just happened. Not only did he successfully argue for more funding, he got a raise without even asking. He whipped out his phone, pulling up his friends�� group chat.

Joe: I MADE THAT MEETING MY BITCH Lucy: You kiss your mother with that mouth? Ben: you got the funding???? Joe: AND A RAISE Rami: I have no idea what we’re talking about. Lucy: Babe I told you, Joe was trying to convince the department head to give him more money for shows. Ben: fuck yeah mate!!!! Bevs tonight to celebrate??? Joe: I absolutely need a beer. Or several. Rami: I’m in. Lucy: I’m there too! Ben: as the kids say, let’s get TURNT Joe: Please never say that again.

And that’s how Joe found himself bar-hopping in the city with his three closest friends. After closing out the bill in bar number three, Joe was starting to pass the threshold between tipsy and drunk. He debated about calling himself an Uber, pulling up the app to determine how much one would be. But suddenly his phone was ripped from his hand.

“What do you think you’re doing? The night is so very young, Joseph,” Ben slurred, locking Joe’s phone and putting it in his own pocket. Ben swung his arm around Joe’s shoulders. “We still gotta hit up Sully’s!”

“I’ve heard that place is such a dive, Ben. Can we go literally anywhere else?” Lucy asked, swirling the last of her cocktail before downing it. Rami’s arms were wrapped around her waist while he slowly swayed to the background music playing through the bar’s speakers.

“How else are we gonna find a girl who’ll be interested in Joe?” Ben said with a shit-eating grin, squeezing Joe’s shoulder.

“Gee thanks, Ben,” Joe replied with an eye roll.

“Besides, an old mate of mine is one of the bartenders there. I’m sure he can hook us up with some free drinks or something,” Ben added, practically dragging Joe towards the bar exit. Lucy and Rami followed behind without further argument.

After stumbling four or five blocks, the group finally found the correct street. A neon red sign reading “BAR” hung above the door and the name Sullivan Street was etched in white letters on the window.

Ben led the group inside the almost full bar. Joe couldn’t help but scan the room, Ben’s comment rolling around in his head. Not that he had been actively looking before tonight, but it had been awhile since Joe had been with someone. Mostly because his work took most of his focus away. But with only exam week left before the summer began, Joe felt like he finally had time for something. Or someone.

His eyes darted around the bar as the group continued to follow the blonde Brit. Ben wove through the crowd to the stairs leading to the second floor. The upper floor was much smaller and definitely less crowded. A small bar with one lone bartender was tucked in the corner, while the room was littered with high top tables. At the back of the room was a small stage boasting an array of instruments surrounding a large drumset with the words Parkway Diner neatly painted on the bass drum.

Ben made his way over to the bar, the group close behind. The lone bartender’s face lit up as Ben approached him. While the two exchanged pleasantries and a handshake, the group took seats at the bar, Joe continuing to survey his surroundings. A female laugh rang out and drew his attention to one of the high-tops closest to the stage. The laugh belonged to a small woman with bleached blonde hair that she styled in a messy pixie cut. Her burgundy crew-neck sweatshirt contrasted against the sea of tank tops and t-shirts the other bar-goers wore. A shiny black color coated her nails; standing out against the pale skin of her hand that held her beer.

Joe watched as she clinked that beer with the three men surrounding her at the table. Joe was immediately intrigued by the woman, who almost looked too young to be in a bar. He watched as she pulled out her phone, glancing at the screen before shoving it back into the pocket of her black jeans. She raised her hand, seemingly signaling something to the men around her. They immediately understood whatever the message was, as they all simultaneously left the table and headed through a door next to the stage.

Joe suddenly understood. They were the band, and they had five minutes until their set.

But the woman remained, downing the rest of her beer. She turned and surveyed the room, almost the same as Joe had been doing moments before. All of a sudden, her eyes connected with his, and he found himself smiling.

But the moment was brief, as the woman just continued to look around the room, not even noticing Joe.

“Earth to Mazzello!” Ben’s voice rang out in Joe’s ear, pulling him from his trance.

“Sorry, what?” Joe replied, turning to face his friend.

“Gwil, this inattentive asshole is my coworker, Joe,” Ben said to the tall bartender.

“Pleasure to meet you, Joe,” the bartender greeted, stretching his hand out for a shake. “I’m Gwilym, but call me Gwil.” Joe shook the man’s hand, quickly noticing how much the bartender towered over him.

“Nice to meet you, too,” Joe answered before quickly turning his attention back to the high top by the stage. But the woman had vanished, forcing Joe’s focus back to his friends. “Is there a band performing tonight?”

“Oh yeah. Friday nights we have a seventies pop and rock cover band called Parkway Diner,” Gwil responded, wiping down an empty glass.

“They any good?” Ben asked, playing with a lime on the bar before Gwil swatted his hand away.

“Oh, they’re way too good to be playing here. Their drummer and lead singer is incredible,” Gwil replied before gesturing to the rest of the group. “Drinks anyone? First round is on me.”

Drink orders were taken as a distracted Joe’s mind couldn’t shake the image of the small blonde woman. He looked at his watch, hoping the five minute warning she gave the other men was up soon so she’d reappear.

As if on cue, the other bar patrons began to cheer as the woman and her bandmates entered the stage. The woman pulled two drumsticks from her boot as she found her spot at the drum kit. Joe watched her curiously as she fidgeted with a microphone that was at level with her face.

Before Joe could inquire more about the woman, a guitar riff pierced through the bar. The woman seemed unfazed as she joined in on the drums, the rest of the band following suit. The woman leaned towards the microphone, never missing a beat before singing out.

Now if you're feelin' kinda low 'bout the dues you've been paying Future's coming much too slow And you want to run but somehow you just keep on stayin' Can't decide on which way to go Yeah, yeah, yeah I understand about indecision But I don't care if I get behind People livin' in competition All I want is to have my peace of mind

Joe was entranced by the woman. Her voice was beautifully raspy and harsh, perfectly fitting the hard rock song. She belted every note with ease, all while she drummed away. Joe found himself hypnotized by her passion as she performed, each note and drum beat piercing through him. He felt a tap on his shoulder and a glass of beer was shoved in front of him. He grabbed it, his eyes not leaving the stage for even a moment.

Now you're climbin' to the top of the company ladder Hope it doesn't take too long Can'tcha you see there'll come a day when it won't matter? Come a day when you'll be gone, whoa I understand about indecision But I don't care if I get behind People livin' in competition All I want is to have my peace of mind Take a look ahead, take a look ahead, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

Joe was completely blown away. The woman’s fervor in her performance was intoxicating; she played the drums like it was the most important thing she could ever do. But the thing that Joe was most affected by was the woman’s absolute joy as she struck each drum and sang each lyric. She smiled and laughed, seemingly losing herself in the music. Joe was almost jealous; he wracked his memories, trying to determine if he’d ever been that happy in his life.

Now everybody's got advice they just keep on givin' Doesn't mean too much to me Lots of people out to make-believe they're livin' Can't decide who they should be, whoa I understand about indecision But I don't care if I get behind People livin' in competition All I want is to have my peace of mind Take a look ahead, take a look ahead, look ahead

She sang out the last lyric with such intensity, that by the time she stopped singing, Joe realized he had been holding his breath. The woman continued to beat the set in front of her, finishing the song by throwing her sticks above her head.

Joe hadn’t even noticed the crowd that had formed in front of the group until they roared with applause. Joe joined in, cheering and clapping for the performance.

“Holy shit, you weren’t kidding, Gwil,” Rami shouted over the crowd.

“Yeah, they’re the real deal,” Gwil replied before turning his attention to another patron.

The band played a few more songs for the continually growing crowd. Joe’s friends chatted away behind him, while his attention never left the stage. Despite the several drinks he had consumed since the night began, Joe felt sober as ever. He only knew one thing: he needed to meet the woman on the stage before him.

As each song ended, Joe prayed that it was the last, wanting nothing more than for the woman to return to her original high top so he could weave his way over to her. He wanted to be around her, hear her speak, ask her questions. He was so fascinated by her and he didn’t even know her name.

Finally, the desperate man got his wish.

“Thanks everyone, we’re gonna take a short break and be back in a little bit,” the guitar player announced through his microphone.

Joe’s eyes followed the woman as she squeezed past her drumset and the discarded instruments amongst the stage. And much to his delight, she headed right his way.

“Gwilly! The usual please,” the woman shouted before slapping both hands on the bar counter next to Joe, paying him no mind.

“Already got it ready for ya,” Gwil replied, handing her a mixed drink. “Oh, Mar, this is an old mate of mine, Ben. And these are his friends.”

“Gwil, you have a friend other than me? I’m proud of you, bud,” the woman teased before sticking her tongue out at him. Gwil flipped her off in response.

“I’m Lucy and this is my boyfriend Rami. You’re so talented!” Lucy gushed as she rested her hand on her heart. The woman chuckled before responding, the sound like music to Joe’s ears. He wanted nothing more than to make her laugh again and again.

“I’m Marley. And thanks,” she replied quickly before taking a sip of her drink.

“I’m Joe,” Joe added, unable to hide the huge grin that had taken up residence on his face. Marley simply nodded in response, seemingly uninterested in the group’s presence.

“Pleasure,” Marley responded coldly, turning back to Gwil and taking another sip of her drink. “Gwil, can you tell Paul the right amp is being weird again? I can still hear a tiny bit of feedback.”

Joe wanted her attention again, but the woman seemed more focused on the drink in her hand than anything else.

“Why can’t you tell him?” Gwil countered, pouring a beer for himself.

“He’s still mad I called him a cuntfuck, so he’s giving me the silent treatment,” Marley answered, before she downed the rest of her drink, slammed the glass on the counter, and headed back in the direction of the stage.

And just like that she was gone. The group was left speechless, with Joe caught up on the way she said “cuntfuck” so casually.

“Well she’s a friendly one, huh?” Ben sarcastically commented after a few seconds of awkward silence.

“Yeah that’s Mar for ya. She’s a bit rough around the edges. Took her months of playing here to finally warm up to me,” Gwil offered.

“Is she single?” Joe asked, his own words surprising him. He had been thinking it, but wasn’t planning on actually asking it. Gwil let out a deep belly laugh.

“Good luck with that one, mate. Like I said, tough one to crack,” Gwil said, continuing to laugh.

Joe furrowed his brow, put off by the man’s laugh at his expense. So she was not the most friendly person at first. Big deal, Joe had met people like her before. He had students who put up the same walls. He knew that under her hard shell, she was full of passion. He could tell by the way she lost herself in her music.

Joe knew he had to be patient. He knew people like that needed time to open up, to be vulnerable. He didn’t want to “figure her out”; he didn’t want to search through her soul and dig up her deepest insecurities. He wanted her to offer herself openly, to trust him enough to let down her walls.

Joe chastised himself for only saying two words to her, feeling like he fumbled their first meeting. But he wasn’t going to let that or Gwil’s reaction deter him.

Marley. Her name rang through his mind as he watched her return to her spot behind the bass drum, effortlessly twirling a drumstick between her fingers. The familiar intro of “Roxanne” by the Police rang out through the room. Joe spotted an empty high top closer to the stage, the same table the band had occupied before their first set. He made his way over to it, weaving through the droves of people singing along, leaving his friends and the judgmental bartender behind. He leaned on the table, nursing his beer as Marley and the rest of the band played their hearts out. Joe’s eyes centered in on the fiery blonde, watching every flick of her wrists, every arch of her back. She finished singing the first chorus and flung her head to the side, letting the music dictate her movement. She bobbed to the beat of the musical break, turning to survey the crowd.

And for the second time that night, her eyes locked onto Joe’s. This time he wasn’t grinning like an idiot. He kept his eyes soft, but his face almost completely neutral. Her stare lingered for a moment, narrowing her eyes and pursing her lips before turning back to the mic to start the next verse.

Progress, Joe thought. He only wanted to pique her curiosity in him, to even the playing field a bit. Marley had taken up so much space in Joe’s head already, he wanted her to wonder about him too.

The rest of the group eventually joined him at the high top as the night went on. Rami and Lucy swayed to the music and even sang along to some of the songs, with Ben more focused on the drunk brunette who had been hanging all over him for the past half hour. Every once in awhile, Marley’s eyes would meet Joe’s. Each meeting was like a duel, both parties challenging the other to look away. Joe won every time, having the advantage of not having to perform for a group of rowdy bar-goers.

After a few more classic seventies hits, the band finally finished their set to deafening applause from the crowd. Joe had to admit that Gwil was right about one thing, they really were way too good to be playing in a dive bar like Sully’s. Joe wondered if they played original music, filing that question away for when he actually got to have an actual conversation with Marley.

The three men each bowed while Marley simply gave the audience a half-assed mock salute before climbing off the stage and heading straight back to the bar. Joe stood up straight from the table, before an arm snaked around his shoulders.

“You ready to call it?” Lucy asked, resting her head against Joe. “Rami is seconds away from falling asleep. I think Ben fucked off somewhere with that girl so the three of us can split an Uber.” Joe glanced in the direction of the bar, the stools empty except for Marley, who appeared to be having a wildly dramatic conversation with Gwil.

“I think I’m gonna stick around, Luce. But thanks,” Joe replied, snaking his own arm around Lucy’s back to pull her into a side hug.

“Okay, text me when you get home so I know you’re not dead,” she added before peeling Rami off the high top.

“Will do.”

He patted his pocket and suddenly realized that Ben still had his phone. Well shit. He shook the thought from his head. He had more important matters to attend to.

Once the pair disappeared down the stairs, Joe began to make his way back over to the bar. He quickly downed the rest of his beer as he approached, giving him a reason to go to the bar other than the woman perched at it. Suddenly he was cut off by a hand landing on his shoulder.

“Hey, there you are. Where are the lovebirds?” Ben questioned, eyes darting around in search of the couple.

“They headed out. Where have you been?” Joe countered, shrugging Ben’s hand off.

“Oh you know, the bathroom,” Ben answered evasively. Joe then noticed the dark mark under Ben’s left ear and he suddenly understood.

“For fuck’s sake, Ben. Not even taking her back to your place this time? You just knocked it out in the bathroom of a shitty bar?” Joe teased, shaking his head.

“Hey, I offered, but the girl had no patience. I just gave her what she wanted,” Ben boasted. Joe rolled his eyes.

“What a gentleman,” Joe commented. “Can I have my phone back please?”

“So what are you still doing here?” Ben asked, slamming Joe in the chest with his own phone. Joe took the phone back and simply looked in the direction of the bar at the woman seated there. She was laughing at something Gwil had said, the sound carrying throughout the bar that was slowly emptying now that the show was over. Ben followed Joe’s eyes and understood immediately. “You trying to go for the drummer?”

“I just want to talk to her,” Joe admitted, his voice low.

“Well good thing your best friend is here to wingman for ya,” Ben offered, swinging an arm around Joe’s shoulders. Joe shrugged it off with a chuckle.

“Lucy is my best--”

“Shut up, let’s go,” Ben interrupted before heading towards the bar. He slapped his palms down on the counter, much like Marley had done before. He slid on the stool one away from Marley, giving Joe the opportunity to take the spot next to her. Maybe Ben did know what he was doing. Joe took his seat, briefly glancing to his right. He found Marley’s brown eyes glaring at him for a moment before turning back to her drink.

“Gwilym, another round for me and Joseph. The boy needs it,” Ben exclaimed. The tall bartender nodded before grabbing two glasses.

Joe pondered what to say to the woman next to him. He wanted to come off as cool and collected, not wanting to act like he was as engrossed by her as he truly was. He didn’t want her to think he was some slimy dude trying to get in her pants. He needed to establish himself as someone as intriguing as she was. Gwil handed him his beer with a nod and a knowing smile. He was onto Joe.

Joe pushed the bartender out of his head and leaned slightly in Marley’s direction.

“I’m sure you hear this all the time, but you’ve got a killer voice,” Joe offered, his own voice somewhat quiet so only she could hear him. He played the sentence back in his head. Was it too gushy? Was it too cliche? Suddenly his normal confidence when talking to women was disappearing. He was second-guessing himself. He found himself briefly glancing at Ben for his reaction, but the Brit was too wrapped up in a conversation with Gwil. He was on his own. Some wingman, Joe thought. But his trepidation was immediately sated by Marley’s slight chuckle.

“Eh, I don’t mind hearing it anyway. Thanks,” Marley answered, holding her drink towards him, almost as a peace offering. Joe smiled and clinked his glass against hers. They both took a sip of their respective drinks before Joe continued.

“It kind of begs the question, what the hell are you doing in a place like this?” Joe inquired, propping his elbow on the bar and his chin on his knuckles. Marley was unfazed by the question, giving a noncommittal shrug.

“Pays the bills,” she responded, fingers tracing the condensation on her glass.

“Why seventies music?” Joe asked. Marley finally turned to face him, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes.

“You are just full of questions, aren’t you?” Marley challenged. Joe was unsure if she was genuinely annoyed or just playing with him. He decided to take the risk.

“How else are we supposed to get to know each other?”

“Who says I want to get to know you?”

“Well you haven’t called me a ‘cuntfuck” yet, so I’m taking that as a good sign.”

Marley threw her head back with a cackle, the sound reverberating through Joe’s chest.

“Touche, random guy, touche,” she finally said, arching an eyebrow. “You haven’t been a cuntfuck. At least not yet.”

“I guess there’s still time,” Joe added with a smile. “And it’s Joe.”

“Right. Joe,” she corrected, unfolding her arms and relaxing a bit. Joe was now close enough to notice that her maroon sweatshirt had small white text across the front of it. Squinting to try and decipher it in the dim lighting of the bar, he suddenly recognized the words. The infamous “to be or not to be” speech from Hamlet.

“Shakespeare, huh?” Joe pointed out, nodding his head in the direction of the text in question. “A woman after my own heart.”

Another deep cackle. This one a bit more forced than the last.

“Not in the slightest,” Marley responded with a smirk, patting Joe’s thigh and turning back to sip her drink. The interaction was confusing, her words like a slap in the face but her touch warming every inch of his body. Joe couldn’t let himself get caught up in the moment. He had to keep the conversation going, or she’d lose interest.

“So do you agree with Hamlet?” Joe asked. Marley cocked her head, clearly surprised by either the question itself or the fact that Joe wasn’t discouraged by her rejection. Maybe both. She turned back to the man, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Are you asking if I agree that the concept of death is scary? Or if I agree that taking one’s life is the most powerful thing one can do the combat the shittiness of living? Because both questions are pretty heavy-handed considering we’ve just met,” Marley argued, leaning forward to emphasize her point.

“Would you rather I ask about your favorite color or whether you prefer Coke to Pepsi?” Joe countered, arching an eyebrow. Marley paused, eyeing Joe up and down and pursing her lips.

“I would rather ask you a question for once, oh curious one,” she finally answered. More progress. He had her hooked. “So. Joe. What do you do? You know, other than pester random women in bars.” It was Joe’s turn to chuckle.

“I’m a theatre professor over at the college,” Joe revealed. Marley smirked and nodded.

“Oh, yeah. That explains a lot,” Marley commented, before finishing her drink. Joe folded his arms this time, leaning closer.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Marley opened her mouth to respond, but Gwil appeared.

“Sorry to interrupt, but we’re closing up shop soon,” the bartender admitted, swinging a towel over his shoulder and handing Joe his bill. Joe glanced at his watch. 1:57am. He groaned, knowing his time with the woman was up.

“Well, this certainly has been...a conversation,” Marley declared, drumming her fingers on her thighs. Joe signed his bill with a smile.

“That it was,” Joe replied, before grabbing a cocktail napkin. He jotted down his number and slid the napkin towards Marley. She eyed the napkin with an arched eyebrow. “In case you want to banter with me again.”

Marley’s eyes flashed between Joe and the napkin a few times. Joe held his breath, hoping the bold move would pay off. After a few more seconds and another pursing of her lips, she snatched the napkin and stuffed it into her pocket. Without another word, she hopped off the stool and disappeared into the door next to the stage.

Joe finally let out the breath he had been holding, sliding off of his own bar stool. Ben nudged him.

“How’d you do? I’ll be honest, I was not paying attention whatsoever,” Ben admitted, as the two men began to make their way down the stairs and towards the bar’s exit.

“Yeah, I noticed. And I think it went well. I gave her my number,” Joe answered. Ben chuckled and shook his head lovingly.

“Mate, you’re supposed to get her number,” Ben countered as he pushed the front door of the bar open for the two of them.

“I figured she probably wouldn’t give it to me if I asked. So I put the ball in her court,” Joe said with a shrug.

A short Uber ride later, Joe found himself back in his own apartment. He sighed as he settled into bed, Marley still at the forefront of his mind. Everything about her was absolutely fascinating. She had a youthful radiance about her, yet she was hard and cynical. She performed with such love for what she was doing, but the second she was off the stage, she hated the world. Joe hadn’t met anyone like her before.

But for now all he could do was let his mind wander, and hope that he’d hear from her soon.

All he could do was wait.

--

Taglist: @hellysthings​ @queenspur​ @briarrose26​

[artificialqueens]

Black Leather Chapter 2 {biadore} - imafuckinglibra

Meow moew. Since the anon gave the thumbs up and you guys seemed to like it here’s another chapter. You ever wonder what really went on in the show between their little gazes and shit? Well here it is bitches. I have nothing else to say. K bye.

Dela ran into the workroom with a jump, kicking his leg into the air as Roy followed close behind.

“Wha-wha wha wha.” He sang in a semi-cheerful but still his usual grumpy self manner, after linking with Danny 2 days ago he was riding a high like no other.

Because they couldn’t see each other when they weren’t filming he hadn’t seen Danny again since. But the minute they got into the bus together and he saw that smile he was on top of the world.

He decided to dress as casual yet nicely as possible to look good for his new love. And he did look good in his black and white striped tank too and dark blue jeans rolled up at the bottom, if he does say so himself.

He couldn’t help grinning brightly when Danny followed behind him asking “What size?” In a nasally chola voice.

“There’s 6 of us!” Dela shouted followed by Shane entering with a high pitched “Yay!”

When they got to the table, standing around it in their usual spots with Danny and Roy at opposite ends he noticed Danny ogling him. He only noticed because he was watching Danny too.

He looked incredibly adorable, no pun intended, in his black tank, grey knee length jean shorts and black boots with the shin length white socks poking out.

“You look nice.” Roy mouthed in his direction, grinning widely at the way Danny quickly looked down blushing. The younger awkwardly mumbled something to himself about Roy looking nice too that nobody seemed to pick up.

“So what’s next?” Dela asked and Darienne made a joke about them doing magic.

This prompted Shane to start telling a story about being a ‘glamorous assistant’ once while Joslyn wrapped a disgustingly bright colored shawl around his head.

“…I was in such a contorted position that my right testicle popped out entirely.” Shane widened his eyes to emphasize how ridiculous the story was.

“Why do you have a rat testicle?” Dela asked looking very confused and slightly concerned for whichever rodent Shane had left scrotumless.

“My RIGHT testicle.” Shane clarified and the room erupted in laughter.

The loud siren signaling the new shemail with their cryptic clue for the next challenge went off ending their conversation.

“Oh! Thank god.” He groaned tilting his head back. Grateful to get away from the topic of rodent testicles.

Ooooh girl!

Dearly beloved…

From the corners of his eye he could see Danny’s displeased expression as he stood with his arms crossed and his leg nervously shaking.

He himself was standing between Shane and Joslyn with his arm resting on Joslyn’s shoulder. His mouth involuntarily dropping open at the marriage themed shemail.

The universe could sometimes be a cruel, unforgiving bitch and today was one of them. Of course the first shemail they got after linking would be something wedding related.

If this show wasn’t so intricately thought out months in advance he’d had sworn Ru and the production team were pulling some kind of bad prank on them.

Wait…Did RuPaul know? Did any of the producers or even the other queens know?

We’re gathered here in the presence of…yes gawd.

Suddenly it was if he could hear Danny’s thought as vividly as his own. With an open mouth he tilted his head in disbelief and confusion when Danny’s voice popped into his head saying some shady shit about Langanja.

Say I do…

‘I do.’ He heard Danny’s voice in his mind again and the sudden urge to smack his birthmark hit him. It was the only alternative to smacking his soulmate and scolding him for his loud thinking.

But he knew slapping his chest like a disgruntled cave man wouldn’t exactly read very well on camera or even to his peers. So he resisted the temptation and continued listening to the shemail.

“Uh oh.” He pursed his lips when Ru entered the room. He disregarded the cameras for a minute and gave the tall queen a very serious, shady glare.

Examining his every move in deep concentration to try and figure out if he knew about their linking.

Ru greeted the girls and they all neatly lined up like they did for every mini challenge. Why he and Danny had to be so far apart was an unnecessary mystery of the competition he now hated.

Even though they were only separated by three people, well Darienne counted for two, he could feel the pulling in his chest. Not bad enough that he was in pain like most days but still not pleasant.

He tried faking the biggest cheshire cat grin he could to play off the discomfort, but when he felt Danny’s heart flutter at the mention of marriage equality it made his flutter too.

“Everybody say love.”

“Love!” The girls chimed in unison and he could feel Danny’s eyes on him when they did.

Danny’s own uneasiness faded when he said the word, Roy could tell by the way his soulmate’s giddiness was easing his tension too. Despite all the bad of linking, like the first night when the rush of all Danny’s angst from his teen years overwhelmed him, being linked had it’s perks.

Like now for example.

It was nice getting to feel Danny’s gentle heart lighting up. His partner’s happiness made him happy.

“Oh scruff pit crew!” Roy singsonged.

The queen’s doing their usual little woofing at the nakes men entering. Roy decided to throw a little flair in and with his hands in front of his chest like little puppy paws he did his barking in the deepest voice he could muster.

Once the challenge was announced and Ru gave them the go the girls sped off. Danny with his gangly long legs of course was the fastest by a landslide. Roy meanwhile took his time half jogging over to the rack of disgusting nude body suits that hung in a row.

-

The mini challenge had left them all looking like a hot mess so afterwards they were promptly escorted to the bathroom to clean up.

Who came up with this shit anyway? Twerks of art? Really? It was a lot of fun though Roy had to admit that much and he did win which was a neat little bonus.

The production really went all out in spoiling their contestants didn’t they? A small bathroom with maybe, if you’re pushing it, three working stalls. Classy.

Shane and Danny had the most paint on them so by the time the others were done they weren’t even halfway. Roy took his time cleaning his face so he could wait around Danny a little longer and keep him and Shane company.

Eventually when it was just the three of them he couldn’t restrain his hands from moving towards Danny’s face, his thumbs brushing Danny’s eyebrows down. What remained of them anyway.

“Your baby brows are really fucking cute you know that?” He softly smiled, forgetting Shane was with them. But who cares anyway? He knew he could trust his friend. He was a cunt but a reliable one.

“Shut up!” Danny playfully whined giving his shoulder a light shove. “Yours aren’t too bad either. This is cute.” He tilted his head. His index finger tracing the little cut at the base of his right eyebrow.

“That’s where I’ve seen it!” Shane suddenly shouted. “When I helped you into that hideous shin length gown! The one with the low cleavage…ooh.”

“Birth mark.” Roy clarified for Danny when he saw the confusion in his eyes. Pulling the very low cut tank top Danny wore down a bit further to tap the moon shaped fleck.

“Oh. Party.” Danny shrugged it off and gave the hand poking him a little slap.

“I won’t tell anyone.” Shane winked at Roy who mouthed ‘thank you’ in return.

“We’re not keeping it a secret or anything.” Danny nervously added.

“I know?” Shane brushed his high pitched tone off and continued rubbing the yellow and purple paint out of his ear. Paint and small nooks never work out well.

“I mean we have nothing to hide right?” His wide eyed gaze flicked back to Roy.

“Calm down there spazzy you’re making me feel all…twitchy.” Roy shivered and gave Danny’s ass a small pat.

“About the whole feeling each others emotions, what’s its like? Can you actually feel everything he does?” Shane took a break to rinse out the stained cloth he was using and look at Roy waiting for an answer.

“I don’t know about you.” Roy handed Danny another make up wipe. “But I mean for me, it’s like…”

“Like when you’re in a dark room.” Danny finished his sentence.

“Yeah exactly…here.” He saw Danny was doing a shitty job cleaning the paint off behind his neck so he took the wipe and did it himself. “You know when the lights are off and you can make out the shapes and sometimes if your eyes have adjusted you can kind of see things but not exactly. It’s all pretty muffled but yeah we can feel ‘em.”

Danny nodded, giving him a quick peck on the cheek as a thank you for helping him.

“And I’ve always been pretty in tune with like, feeling peoples energies and stuff but this is pretty heavy duty shit.” With his face now clean and Roy helping him clean the spots he missed he rested his head against the shorter man’s shoulder. Peeking into his shirt to smile at the matching mark on his chest.

“Guess that’s why it’s called a gut feeling right?” Roy thought out loud. “When you were nervous for your black and white runway but you were acting so cunty. I knew you weren’t really feeling it because I got this almost…sinking feeling in my stomach. You know what I mean? Even though I was fucking confident about ours I could still feel your nerves making me nervous. And we weren’t even fucking linked yet, how that work?”

“Sounds exhausting.” Shane pouted.

“It actually feels super natural.” Danny tilted his head down to kiss Roy’s chest.

“It does. Although…earlier I could hear your thinking?” Roy remembered how vividly he could hear Danny’s snide remark about Laganja.

Before Danny had time to give an explanation a crew member came in to call them back into the workroom.

Since Roy had won the ridiculous mini challenge he had the privilege of assigning the brides to the queens.

Their main challenge this week, they thought, was to get brides ready for their wedding. What they didn’t know was that they actually had to turn their galant grooms into the blushing brides instead.

He had decided on playing it as fair as possible and assigned each person with a bride that looked similar to the queen’s look or personality. If he had known they’d be dragging up their grooms however he might’ve gone a completely different route.

What’s done is done I guess.

Roy still felt fairly secure-ish in his pairings despite the new twist right up until he saw Danny hunching over in despair hiding his face in his palms. His bride next to him making matters worse when she let out an “Oh no!”

He shook the uncertainty from his head and eased up a little once he was sitting down with his couple and discovered that he had actually picked the perfect pair for himself. They seemed open to just about every suggestion he made which got him really excited.

The bride even said she wanted a dominant eye AND a dominant lip. This was going to be fucking perfect and a whole lot of fun.

“Oh! You are my kinda girl Eddie!” His voice got higher with excitement.

As he was writing her comment about makeup down he lifted his head ever so slightly and caught Danny mid stare. The younger smiling at him biting his lip made him smile too. Classic giddy school girl looking at her crush moment.

“Busted.” He mouthed in his direction with his brows raised.

Danny stuck his tongue out at him and both resumed their consultations. Okay so he didn’t fuck this up too bad for him, that’s comforting to know.

-

“Well just so you know I’m not gonna hit on you because I’m not really recruiting. There’s enough gays in this world so…and now that they can get married you know it’s only gonna be a mess.” He joked with his groom…bride? Whatever, while they were working on snipping him some hip pads.

Following his comment the conversation turned to marriage equality and he soon discovered that his partner, surprisingly enough, was actually a really nice guy. More surprisingly that he had made a friend in this stranger.

Him. Roy Haylock. Friend.

His bride, Alex, was easy to talk to and seemed open minded and easy going enough that they just naturally clicked. They continued talking about Holland’s views on homosexuality and acceptance and somehow, somewhere along the lines soulmates came up.

He felt a bit hesitant to open up about Danny and being newly linked, mostly because they were being watched under such a strict magnifying glass that he didn’t know what the people around them would catch onto.

He didn’t even know if soulmates were allowed to compete together, Alaska and Sharon almost competing popping up in his mind, so he avoided mentioning his or even thinking of him.

His body betrayed him slightly though when Danny left the room for a smoke break. The sudden absence of his young lover sent the burning in his chest ablaze.

Automatically when Danny was out the building his hand reached for the little crescent moon shaped fleck on his sternum. Taking a deep inhale to try and push back some of the queasiness building in his throat.

“You okay there?” Alex must’ve picked up on the dip in his energy.

“Yeah I just need some water..heartburn I guess. Us old folk you know how it is.” He lied but he could tell he wasn’t buying it.

“A little trick I found that works is keeping a little like trinket or something of hers on me at all times. Just the reminder of them on you will help, trust me.” He whispered digging something out of his jean pocket.

It was two small leather bands braided together to form a bracelet with a locket. Probably with his fiancé’s photo inside but he didn’t want to be nosey and poke around.

“I’ll remember that.” He made a mental note taking a big swig from his water bottle under the table.

Alex held the big circular piece of foam he was working on up in front of their faces pretending to ask if he did a good job. Leaning in close to Roy as if he was examining it from a different angle. “So…which one? I won’t tell.”

Roy followed his lead showing some imaginary flaws on the padding. “Ol’ smokey.”

“Ah…hold tight.” He padded Roy’s shoulder and went up to a crew member, asking to be excused for a smoke break.

‘Didn’t even know he smo…oh no.’ Roy caught on to what he was doing. He was going to talk to Danny.

Fuck!

Roy debated running after but since he doesn’t smoke that would look too suspicious.

He returned his focus to drawing more guidelines on the foam for Alex to cut, distracting himself any way possible.

His distraction tactic apparently worked so well he didn’t even notice Alex coming back in a few minutes later. He did however notice when Danny had come back because the way the tightness in his chest had significantly subsided.

“Hold on to this.” Alex discreetly slipped a small piece of something into Roy’s back pocket. Hiding it by casually sliding his hand up to Roy’s back to pat it. “Back to work.”

He wanted to make a joke about Alex having done this before with something along the lines of drugs but knew if he acknowledged it they’d be caught. Thus defeating the purpose of being sneaky.

His curiosity eventually getting the better of him he reached back into his jean’s pocket finding a small piece of cotton fabric between his fingers. He rolled it around while examining Danny from head to toe trying to piece together what it could be.

In all honesty whatever it was it worked. Having his little piece of Danny had a calming effect on him. Normally in these situations where they were on opposite ends of the room he’d feel a tight, almost pulling, sensation in his chest.

But now he oddly enough felt, fine. The pulling was still there, he could feel it on Danny’s end as well, but it wasn’t that intense. It was pretty manageable actually.

It suddenly made sense to him why his dad had always kept one of his mother’s rings around his neck. He made a mental note to give Danny something similar of his as well.

They resumed giving their pale foam its ‘hair cut’ just casually chatting about Alex’s future wife. How they met, when they linked all that fun jazz and he couldn’t help but wonder if he sounded that tranquil talking about his own love.

Speak of the devil. He heard a loud thud from somewhere in the room. When all the girls looked up from their work in the direction of the sound they spotted a bright beet red Danny jumping up from the ground.

“What was that?” He asked with a chuckle while Dela and Shane were hanging over each other laughing their asses off.

“My shirt.” Danny lied in high pitched tone, the same one he used whenever he was lying.

‘Dead giveaway, moron.’ Roy scolded in his head.

Roy joined in with the rest of the room laughing at his terrible lying. “That sounded louder than a shirt, bitch.”

“…I was in it…” He nonchalantly admitted before his giggles got the better of him.

-

Everyone was back to being hard at work on constructing their ‘bridal wear’ for the main stage presentation.

Roy knew this would be a breeze for him, unlike the last challenge that he had gone into with misguided confidence he was genuinely sure he’d win this.

Making and designing clothes had been his thing since he was a kid so he definitely had this in the bag. He could make a dress in probably 3 minutes flat so making a simple wedding gown would be a cinch. Especially now that he and Alex had clicked and were working well together.

While he was hand stitching something onto his white satin fabric, easily adding intricate detailing with no effort at all, he noticed his love struggling.

“I hate it!” Danny sitting on the ground in front of him whined while he pinned something to the mannequin. “B…I need to make a skirt.”

He lifted his head from his stitching to see Danny pouting at him. He leaned forward across his table to see how bad It was and if he could help in any way.

“I just don’t know how to do it.” Danny was on his knees his with his big doe eyes looking up at Roy. His attempt at a peach skirt held in place with his thumb.

“Okay. So now you trying to put an overskirt right?” Since this was his forte why not help him out? The other’s couldn’t really question his motives for it since he’s helped them out so much in the past as well.

Danny nodded biting his cheek with a hint of a smile.

“Well pin it on there first and see how it looks.” He instructed with his tone soft and caring.

Danny and his bride went to work placing the patterned lace over skirt as he had told them to. Not needing to pay much attention to his work with muscle memory taking over he continued his stitching. Keeping an eye on Danny’s progress.

He wanted him to do good on this challenge not just because of the obvious reason but because he wanted the young queen to prove to the judges and the others that he deserved to be there. Which he did.

Granted the obvious reason did play a big part. Losing Danny this close to the end and right after they linked would literally be soul crushing.

He didn’t know if his heart would be able to survive being apart from him. Even just the distance of being in a different hotel room than him had taken it’s toll.

The day they had to spend apart was so tough on his body that he was curled up in agony the entire time, occasionally even throwing up because of it.

Soulmates weren’t supposed to be apart too much after they’d linked. It usually ended in pretty severe repercussions to their systems.

There’s a reason it’s called heartbreak for fucks sake. Many cases have been reported that after one soulmate dies their partner was soon to follow from their heart giving in.

Something about the muscles in the organ tearing from what it had to endure being separated. It’s what caused the searing pain, that he had attributed to heartburn, whenever they weren’t together. Long term separation or after death, without their soulmates, the remaining partner’s tendons in their heart would become completely shredded.

“Like that?” Danny asked still on his knees, proudly showing Roy what he had done with a big open mouth smile.

“Yeah.” Roy nodded.

Danny obviously wasn’t as confident as he put on though. He started loudly laughing with a very fake, nervous smile on his face. He looked like some psychotic movie character honestly.

“What are you tryna do?” Roy asked trying not to laugh at his idiotic young lover even though he could sense his panic. He couldn’t help himself, regardless of his smile being fake as fuck it was goddamn adorable. “You gonna have it open on the side?” He returned to being somewhat serious.

Danny defeatedly let go of his dress and threw his hand over his face. His head turned awa avoiding Roy’s gaze.

“I’m asking.”

He could feel Danny’s energy tank. With his hand still on his cheek he looked back at Roy with a very worried expression. “I dont know…”

Roy lifted his eyebrows in uncertainty halting the stitching his hands were still working on. ‘Baby…’ He thought to himself. ‘I don’t know how to help you…’

“Oh my god!” Danny cried getting up to attempt fixing his garment.

“Well you got this, bitch. C’mon.” He tried reassuring him and resumed the work on his own bride’s outfit.

-

Deliberation and untucked had both taken a severe toll on Bianca, even more so on Adore by the feel of it.

Bianca could feel every agonizing moment of self loathing, anxiety and the longing for her mom. Only heightened after Bonnie’s call in untucked. It was slowly eating her up inside, and this was only the parts of it Bianca could feel.

What Adore must’ve been really going through had to be about a 100 times worse. All she wanted to do was jump over Joslyn and grab hold of her love to tell her everything would be okay.

During their brides’ vows Bianca kept an eye on Adore and the way the younger queen was standing with a sombre expression and her hands clasped tightly in front of her chest.

Listening to the couples declare their love on the main stage made Bianca realize that she wanted to be them. She wanted to be up their with Adore instead of watching by the sidelines. To love and to hold in sickness and in health, tucked and untucked.

On their way out of the gold bar Bianca had stopped to grab Adore’s hand, giving it a tight squeeze to let her know everything would be okay - that she would be okay.

And who knows maybe it worked. The younger queen had put on another killer lip sync performance and sent Joslyn home. Thank god. She loved Joslyn and her, for lack of a better word, simple ways, but she loved her Adore more. With all her heart in fact.

“Top 5!” Courtney sang behind Darienne when they entered the workroom.

Adore and Bianca had followed them in last behind the rest of the pact since they had others matters to attend to first. They had cornered the AD before they were ordered to enter the workroom and explained their unavoidable situation.

They came to an agreement that suited all fairly quickly and pain free. They had gone up to him with an already well thought out plan, at least Bianca did, that they knew he couldn’t reject so they weren’t really expecting him to put up much of a fight. Still nice to know more drama was avoided though.

Bianca, being the more level headed responsible one, had brought up the fact that there were only two episodes left aka one week of filming.

They weren’t asking for special treatment or any benefits the other queens wouldn’t be getting, they weren’t even asking to share a hotel room.

All they wanted was to keep their relationship off the show. They’d be completely professional when cameras were rolling with the understanding that the crew would allow them to be affectionate whenever they weren’t, like when they were dedragging or getting mic’d for example.

In return they’d let them show whatever footage they did have at the finale and make a grand spectacle of it all if they wanted to.

Duncan, the AD, agreed to this on the terms that what they would end up showing when it aired would be tiny moments of them maybe looking at each other or Bianca being helpful. Nothing too obvious that they were an item but enough that would lend itself to fan speculation. Just for the ratings.

If they did catch anything more on film that was too telling they’d simply edit it out.

This seemed fair enough so the pair happily agreed and rejoined the others to film the walk in and Adore’s mirror cleaning.

“Congratulations to you young lady!” Dela congratulated a cheerful Adore. Probably a little too cheerful for someone who just lip synced but oh well.

Whenever Adore was happy, Bianca was happy…in theory. Something felt wrong, about Adore maybe? She couldn’t place her finger on it but something was up.

‘Right…linked.’ Bianca thought releasing a deep sigh. She still wasn’t use to feeling someone else’s moods and emotions. She was happy enough, certainly not unhappy about winning the challenge, but Adore was a different story.

Bianca was trapped in a pitch black room again and her eyes were having difficulties adjusting. She could make out an uneasy tension coming from her soulmate but she couldn’t place exactly what it was or why she was feeling that way.

“I’m the new Trinity!” Adore jokingly snarled puffing her arms out like a big buff wrestler making the girls laugh.

“You turned out that lip sync even though when you took of your shoes you looked a little like the girl from The Grudge.”

“Yeah I did.” Adore agreed with Dela’s comment.

Bianca couldn’t help still wallowing silently in a low mood as she watched Adore’s bantering with Dela. She made it look so effortless, as if this was genuine joy instead of a mask hiding a scared little boy. When Adore turned to her and spotted her frown her smile fell.

‘Shit. Busted.’

Before either could say anything Dela jumped in congratulating Bianca on her win.

”Thank you my love.” She followed Adore’s example and picked up her energy a bit. “I will send all of you a post card from Hawaii…because remember you’re my sisters.” She sang in her fakest voice doing her go to ‘smiling and then fake disgusted face’ trick.

One or two girls laughed at her expression but Adore’s face lit up, probably at the mention of Hawaii. She felt a sudden glowy feeling wash over her body. Yep…definitely Hawaii.

“Can I come with?” She excitedly asked making Bianca laugh. There was honestly nothing like seeing Adore’s idiotic face so bright, but that was probably going to be one of the moments cut thanks to their new arrangement.

Either Courtney didn’t notice their moment or she just decided to ignore it but she changed the subject to Darienne’s potty mouth.

Bianca opted to stay out of the conversation since it was just basically Darienne, the shady elephant, being shady. Shocking.

She spotted Adore rolling her eyes like an obnoxious bored teenager during Darriene’s comments and couldn’t help but snorting at her childish manners.

Being completely over it despite Adore’s silliness lifting her spirits Bianca swiftly ended their conversation. “Okay well, having my balls shoved up my ass is fun and all but can we fucking get this shit off?”

“Amen.” Courtney smacked the table and the girls all rose with various degrees of exhausted groans to go dedrag.

-

Managing to become Roy again in probably a new record speed for Bianca he slumped down onto the grey couch where he had pinned Danny onto a few days ago.

Originally Roy had kept his look for the runway simple enough so that he could blend in with his bride, Alex, and not overshadow him too much or put to much work on himself to finish anything elaborate.

Now however it seemed like the best decision he’s ever made. Less tassels and beads the quicker the dedragging. Thank you Jesus.

He was sitting on the couch distractedly fiddling with the little white handkerchief Alex had slipped into his pocket earlier. The same handkerchief he had gotten for Roy from Danny and the same one Bianca had used on stage in her little crying mother bit.

In spite of the fact that Danny had to stand on the other end of the main stage this small, seemingly unimportant, piece of folded fabric had made it possible for him to remain in control.

When Roy had started feeling the all too familiar gnawing in his chest during Adore’s critiques from having to stand apart so long he felt like following Joslyn’s bride and vomiting in the same bucket. Or passing out, which seemed more likely in that moment.

But while Michelle was saying something shady he quickly pulled out said handkerchief and rubbed it between his fingers. Much like his goddaughter Lola had done as a baby with her blankie.

God he missed Lola.

He couldn’t wait to get back to New York and introduce his favorite little girl to his new favorite little boy. Boy…oh god.

‘13, 14…14!’ Roy quickly did the mental math of their age difference. 14 years. Before he could start worrying about this, quiet frankly, unimportant detail too much his thoughts were interrupted.

“There’s my favorite little chola.” Roy teased when he heard clumpy boots heading his way, already knowing who is is by the sudden surge of butterflies in his chest and the loud stomping.

Danny had kept his face on, same as Roy usually did, which explained why he was done so quickly. Not that he had a lot of anything to take off in all fairness.

Danny took hold of the hand not playing with the fabric and as he sat down sideways on his knees next to Roy he placed it over his shoulder. “Hm…hi.” He half yawned half giggled.

“Hi my love.” Roy gave him a quick kiss drawing him in closer to his body with the hand Danny had so politely draped over himself. “No music today?”

“Uh-uh.” Danny shook his head leaning up for another kiss before tucking his head into Roy’s shoulder.

“Because we had company?” His hand had now moved to the small of Danny’s back. Running it gently up and down his spine feeling the tired young man melting into his embrace.

“Mh-hm.” Danny hummed. He was definitely falling asleep. Which was completely understandable I mean he just had to lip sync for his life a second week in a row.

“You’re a fucking child.” Roy chuckled under his breath. He looked up at Shane when he felt his eyes on them. He had a strange smile plastered across his annoying little face with his bottom lip out and his hands clutched in front of his chest. “Shut up.”

With Danny’s hand drawing lazy patterns on his chest around his birth mark and his head still in Roy’s shoulder the older felt at peace.

The opposite of the panic he thought he’d feel from being so open about their relationship in front of the others, might have been helped by some residual euphoria he was feeling from Danny though.

“Is anyone else seeing this?” Darienne shouted from the other end of the room pointing at the couple.

“It’s sweet let them be.” Dela chimed in in her usual gentle almost motherly voice.

“Yeah!” Shane stomped his foot.

“They look like…”

“Hey!” Roy aggressively snapped in her direction. “If you say one fucking word you nasty cunt so help me!”

“Adore Delano! Bianca Del rio!” Duncan came into the room with 2 other strangers yelling their names loudly. “We need to talk, follow us please.”

[engineeringnovels]

Stay or Go

I keep nervously checking between my phone and the large digital clock mounted above the bathrooms, sitting on this metal chair inside Terminal 4. I should be used to airports by now. They’re mini-cities whose citizens I’ll never see again. I suppose that’s a good thing since I’ll totally make a fool out of myself and these people won’t remember long enough to hound me about it for months on end.I’m struggling to keep my eyes open after waking up early to catch the train to get here. Still, watching the people come and go, it makes me miss flying a little bit. I probably spent a good portion of my life in the air travelling from country to country.

Today’s different though. I actually do care about looking stupid in front of one person. My boyfriend Geoff, if I could even call him that, is finally coming to visit me. I met him on the internet on one of many online communities. Over the summer, we finally started talking, got close and now, we’re in this really weird zone of dating in practice, but we’re not officially a thing. Geoff’s cool with the whole officially-labelling-each-other thing, but I’m a little hesitant. I mean, this is the first time I’m meeting the guy. I’m hoping by the time he flies back, I’ll have a definitive answer.

My butt starts getting numb from sitting. I start pacing from one end of the terminal to the other. I check my phone again. Still nothing. I turn to the clock again. Eleven ten... He should’ve landed by now.

Bzzz! My heart jumps thinking it’s Geoff. When I look at my screen, I see James on my caller id. I almost throw my phone across the terminal. James is a close friend I met in college. We study together because college is tough. However, studying led to getting lunch, and getting lunch led to hanging out, and hanging out eventually led to him developing a crush on me. I probably should’ve told James about Geoff the minute I suspected that he had a thing for me, but I didn’t want to explain the whole long distance thing to him. We’re good now, but he took those first couple months pretty hard.

“Hello?” I ask with just a hint of irritation in my voice.

“Hey, do you need your fried chicken fix?”

A tiny smile breaks on my face. That’s our code to hang out since fried chicken’s like the cure all to most of my problems, but I think this situation calls for something a lot stronger than fried chicken.

“I could really use some fried chicken right now, but I can’t hang out. I’m actually at the airport,” I reply.

“I was wondering what all that background chatter was. Is your dad visiting again or something?”

I pause for a moment, hesitating whether I should tell James about Geoff. I know exactly how he’s going to react. He always gets weird when I start talking about Geoff. Eh, he’s a big boy. I don’t have to hide things from him.

“No, I’m actually waiting for Geoff to land.”

“Oh…” He pauses for what seems to be forever. “So, the long awaited day has arrived,” he says excitedly, but with a not so subtle solemn tone.

“I guess…”

“When’s he supposed to land?”

“Eleven.”

“It’s almost eleven fifteen!”

“I know that! You don’t have to remind me!” I exclaim with a hostile voice.

“Sorry… How are you feeling?”

“Anxious beyond comprehension.”

“I would be too in your shoes.”

“I mean, what if he doesn’t like me?”

“Are you seriously asking that question right now?” James asks dumbfounded. “He just flew five hours just to see you!”

“I don’t know. What if I freak him out? I told you he’s a really anxious person!”

James let out a sigh. “Do me a favor, find a place to sit down, if you aren’t already, and take some deep breaths.

My original spot had been taken by a middle aged woman watching over her sleeping infant in a stroller and all the other empty spots are quickly taken by other people. I find a quiet corner, sit on the floor, and take a few deep breaths. My muscles relax and my breathing slows.

Bzzz! I unlock my phone again. One new message from Geoff. Just when I think I calmed down, the anxiety returns ten times worse. I quickly open the message.

Geoff: Just landed. I’ll see you soon.

My heart leaps into my mouth, pounding like a jackhammer..My breathing becomes shallow and jagged.  I start hyperventilating. I feel like I’m dying. I need to get out of here.

“Hey! Hey! Breathe!” James reminds me over the phone hearing my panicked state.

“Geoff just landed! This is actually happening!”

“Dude chill! If you start freaking out, he’ll start freaking out. Here, I got something to help you out. Do you have some headphones?”

I shove my hand in my pocket feeling the familiar feeling of those infernal wires eternally tangled despite the fact they were neatly wrapped when I put them there earlier. “Yeah,” I reply with a shaky voice.

“Plug them into your phone so you can hear this better.”

I follow James’ instructions. The snug earbuds muffle the background noise. Next thing I know, my favorite song starts playing over the call. It’s some pretty shit quality, but I can still hear everything. I close my eyes allowing myself to get lost in the music quietly singing the lyrics in the middle of the busy airport. When the song finally ends, I’m back to normal. Still nervous as hell, but not crippled.

“You good now?” James asks softly.

I take a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Remember when I asked you what you would do when you finally met Geoff?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you remember your answer?”

“Not really…”

“You said that you wanted him to get used to being around you and for you to get used to being around him. That’s not going to happen unless you get accustomed to the idea that he’s breathing the same air as you.”

“Ugh! You’re being melodramatic!” I hate James’  melodrama. I was never really all that comfortable with genuine emotions and his attempts to get me to do things emotionally always irked me.

“Will you shut up about me for two seconds?!” He snaps. “You really like this guy right? Hell, you turned me down for him despite the fact he lives on the other side of the continent!”

“This isn’t about you!”

“You’re right! This is about you!” James pauses for a moment. “As much as you don’t want to admit it, this is a huge fucking deal. You are meeting some stranger for the first time.”

“Geoff’s not a stranger…”

“Oh? Tell me this then, do you know how he walks or how he smells? Do you know how tightly he hugs or the way his palm feels?”

“Those are some weirdly intimate questions…”

“Not the point. If you can’t answer that, then he’s still a stranger.” James sharply sighs. “You can’t let fear hold you back anymore. You have an opportunity in front of you most people would kill for; myself included. So, stop being a little bitch, and man the fuck up!”

Those last words rattle around in my head. For once, he’s right. I’ve always had this crippling fear of rejection and  I’m terrified that Geoff won’t accept me for who I am, not just the sad lonely little shit I am, but all my weird mannerisms too. Geoff makes me feel wanted and supported. Ugh, just thinking about it makes me want to puke. But, James’ right. I need to give this a chance.

“You’re still being melodramatic, but you’re right,” I reply standing back up on my feet putting my headphones away. I breathe deeply a few times before walking over to the belt barrier where a small group of eager people started gathering. The passengers from the plane stand by the baggage carousel waiting for their luggage. “Hey, thanks for calling. I’d still be seriously freaking out if it wasn’t for you.”

“Don’t worry about it. You deserve this.”

“Stop… I already feel like I’m going to hurl without your comments.”

James chuckles. “Maybe one day I’ll actually be in your shoes, knee deep in all this gay shit.”

“The girl you end up with is going to be lucky to have a sweet guy like you.”

“Yeah, yeah…” James says in the most disappointed tone I’ve ever heard.

I catch a glimpse of Geoff among the dozens of people around, uncomfortably standing apart from the rest of the passengers. “He looks so much more precious in person,” I fawn completely forgetting that James’ on the other end.

“Alright, I’m going to hang up before I start puking.”

“Wait,” I quickly follow up still hesitant about something. “Do you remember what I said Geoff and I were going to do when we met each other?”

“Yes…” James answers regretfully.

“What happens if we really don’t connect and he wants me to spend the night in his hotel room? I can crash at a friend’s in the meantime, but I don’t want him to get super depressed. If he asks, do  I stay or do I go?”

“Right now, you shouldn’t have to worry about that. You’ll know the answer when the moment comes. Stay or go, it’s your choice. It’s your life. Just remember, that you’ll remember that choice you made. Be sure that you won’t end up regretting it later,” James reassures me.

Geoff finally grabs his luggage. He searches the crowd for my face and finds it behind the belt barricade. As our eyes meet, smiles stretching from ear to ear both simultaneously appear on our faces. He walks toward me with a quickened pace. I can see he’s trying to put on a confident facade, but he’s not even walking in step. Seeing that makes me giggle like a schoolgirl.

“He’s coming over here. I got to go,” I say in rapid succession.

“Good luck. Let me know what happens; just leave out the more... intimate details ok?” James requests.

“I will. Bye.”

“Peace.”

I hang up just as Geoff crosses the barrier. I just want to jump into his arms and figure out how he smells, how tight he hugs. I’m not one for hugs, or physical contact in general; but with him, I don’t care. I stick my hand out. He shakes my hand with a firm but gentle grip. His palm’s soft, smooth, slightly bigger than mine, and a little sweaty… Or maybe that’s just my hand…

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” I greet kindly.

Geoff answers in the sweetest tone, “Pleasure’s all mine.”