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lfc21 · 1 year

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TAA x Reader where they have a full blown argument whilst hes training with the liverpool lads. And trents anger gets the best of him. And the boys have to witness it. You can decided the ending

Trouble

At the moment everyday was becoming worst and worst. You and trent where constantly at each others throats wanting to pick out every bad thing the other does. It was driving you crazy just how difficult things where getting. It was bound to happen, every August when those boots are pulled back on and the seasons new shirt is pulled over his head you become second best, and the dance starts. You called this time of the year the dance as just when things where perfect trent had to take his feet and dance into a completely different piece and you where left to move on your own. You where completely selfish, you forever knew football was his number one but sometimes you wanted to be first, and not the one to fall into the role of his mother or friend. Alot of your arguments had become mainly house related - trent leaving his clothes across the bedroom floor, never cleaning up after making his ridiculous protein shakes and never bothering to put the toilet seat down.

It was bound to explode - and it did. The minute you walked through the door he had more than enough words written on his face meaning there was no need to listen.

"You going to ignore me all night then?" Trent quickly asked as you walked past his tall frame in the hall. You where fuming, you had anger taking over every part of your body and there was no way of you keeping a cool all night.

"Piss off trent" you mumbled as you pushed open the kitchen door. Your hands grasped the cold kitchen island feeling every piece of marble on your finger tips. You could hear his footsteps get louder as he rushed through the kitchen to fuel the fire. The cold hard marble cooled the burning feeling inside your body, the burning feeling that was going to burn you both alive.

"What's your issue with me?" Trent screeched as he stood infront of you with his arms up in defense.

"My issue with you? What about your issue with me?" You asked surprisingly at his obscene question. Trent was more than aware that he was in the wrong - it was his poor behaviour, his lack of effort and his demenia that showed you everything you needed to know.

"I have no issue!" He quickly shot back as he looked up from under his lashes. He watched you - the way you held your body, the way you spoke at if you didn't care anymore and the way you looked at him so desperately for him to be the same man he was. It was his own wrong doings.

"Then why are you being such a dickhead! Why do I keep coming home to half off your fucking wardrobe piled across the bedroom floor? Why do I keep having to clean up after your mess in the kitchen? Why do you never seem interested in a word I say? Trent your not the same, you have put me last again! And I'm done with playing the role of your fucking mother" you shouted back to him as you threw down the kitchen cloth onto the counter in anger. You could of punched the washing up liquid but you knew the mess that would of caused and it wouldn't be trent needing to clean it up.

"Where done then?! Ok" Trent replied only picking up on one of the many things you said. You shook your head in annoyance and watched his hunched body make a beeline for the door. You didn't bother chasing him, why should you? He did this to himself. His body was carrying nothing but regret - the memories of his ignorance came flooding back like a rain day in May. It was him. He knew he was the reason for this mess, yet he was to suffocated in his own ego to realise the mess he had made. It was to late.

As the night went on your mind wrapped around every possibility of what could happen. Where was he? Would he come back? Is it over? You couldn't understand but how where you expected to - you never thought this would happen, maybe it was just a bump in yours and Trent's road, a bump in which you could get over, hopefully. You tossed and turned in bed, you laid gently on his side of the bed inhaling every part of what was his scent. Your hand ran up and down the bed, your finger tips feeling every part of the soft cotton you slept upon under his protective touch. Your heart ached, you wanted him back, you wanted him safe. You let out an un ruling breath as your hand reached out for your phone, you felt a text was the right thing to do.

Stay safe x you typed with a nervous smile and shaky hands. you didn't know why this was such an anxious act but it felt unnatural. These circumstances where unnatural you weren't ever supposed to be sleeping alone without your Trent. Your eyes fell wide at the sight of the word seen sitting underneath your message, you had hopeful eyes and a small smile creeping on your face at the hope of his reply. minutes went on and it was still the same, you weren't getting your reply, you where getting nothing in return.

As the sun rose again and Trent's morning started at training everything seemed to be going wrong. The rain was falling down as if it was the last time the world could ever let water out. Trent's shirt was stuck to him and every piece of grass was making home on his skin. The rain was falling from every direction, running down his back and rolling along his face - he hated it.

"Trent what is with your face?" Curtis asked with a laughed as he noticed the sour expression and the darted eyes. Trent chose to ignore the young Scouser, he didn't want to speak, or train, or simply be without you. there was only one way Trent could let out his anger and that was by smashing any ball into the closest net. His foot came flying into the familiar bag of air, sending it flying over the cross bar with no sense of direction or aim. His eyes followed the landing off the ball, his mind was sent over the edge, his hands gripped his bip and sent it souring off his body with a loud groan. Curtis noticed the tense and angered man and knew something was wrong, the innocent midfielder clocked eyes with Klopp as he watched the manager usher them both back inside. Curtis knew he had to help, it was something serious - much more serious then he ever presumed.

"Trent lad what's wrong?" Curtis asked as they made a beeline into the changing rooms of the training centre. He watched as the door slammed open making a bang onto the white wall beside it. Trent threw his body onto his designated seat and stared at the floor beneath him.

"I have been a complete idiot" Trent announced not taking a second to look at the man he was speaking to.

"what do you mean?" Curtis curiously asked as he scratched his head and sat next to the right back. It was very rare anyone ever saw Trent in this state - the weary eyes, troublesome expressions and constant attitude he gave to everyone. He slept at his mums last night, he told her everything - his mistakes, his ignorance and his wrong doings. He slept without you, all alone, no one to protect - he felt empty. His mum knew he was sorry but she couldn't understand why he would hurt you, she loved you as if you where her very own.

"I was awful to y/n" Trent admitted as he looked at the man next to him. "I hurt her feelings, I was ignorant and didn't think about her or us and it was wrong of me mate" he added as his hands found there way to his hair and his eyes fell shut at the sound of his very own words.

"You need to talk to her" Curtis said as if it was the most obvious option. Trent's eyes opened at his suggestion, he had to, whether he liked it or not. His feet left the floor as he grabbed his bag and ran out the room, he offered his thanks to Curtis before running out of the building. This was now. his body fell into his car in a matter of seconds quickly slamming the door shut. Trent let out a huge breathe as his hands gripped the steering wheel with his knuckles turning white and his eyes turning dark. He didn't want to admit it - admit he was wrong, admit he was the reason for this all but it was the right thing to do and he knew it.

The drive home was so familiar, the drive he knew he would take whether he was angry, happy, sad or joyful, it was his natural journey. This was his route home to where he belonged most, his protected place, his home full of love and the girl he cared about most.

"Mum is y/n at home?" Trent quickly asked knowing his mum would be at your house today.

"yeah i am with her right now" she replied back softly aware of her surroundings. the moment she said that you knew he was on his way. All you wanted was him. The moments apart from him where hurting you the most, what was so hard with a sorry. Your heart started rasing and your mind felt the furthest away from ease.

"Right ok see you soon" trent quickly replied back with a smile as he drove down the streets of Liverpool.

The door opened. The sound of the metal keys smashing together and the footsteps of a heavy man filled the house. Your lungs filled with air as your mind filled with worries. Was this right? You sat up in your seat as his presence became known, a small smile was exchanged between himself and his mum as she politely got up from next to you.

"Don't worry love" dianne (Trents mum) said softly as she offered a gentle smile and a comforting touch to your shoulder. You watched as she left the room and Trents stance became tense.

"Erm" trent said to himself as he rested his bag on the kitchen island and looked around as if his home was an abandoned memory. He wasn't lost, how could he be? Every memory he had ever loved and cherished was held in this house, he wasn't lost he was confused.

"You can sit down you know" you announced with a smile as your head looked back over the couch in the joining room. Your smile might have been fake but it was what he needed.

"Right" trent replied with a smile as he nodded towards you and walked over to the ever so familiar plush couch. You lowered the tv as your head followed the movement of your boyfriend.

"How are you?" You asked with concern as he chucked himself on the couch with a loud exhale.

"Tired. Didn't get much sleep last night" he confessed with a roll of his eyes and a light laugh. You didn't seem to care, all you wanted was the truth and an apology, the idea of him telling you about his sleeping pattern and the many things he thought of whilst awake was not appealing to you in the slightest.

"What are we doing Trent?" You asked with no patience and little time to waste.

"Erm talking?" He questioned with a smile as he tried to work out the point of your question.

"No I mean this! Us. What are we doing just ignoring the whole situation" you blurted out as your hand found the locks of your hair and pulled through the stress of every strand. Trents eyes softened at your words, now was his time.

"I'm sorry" he mumbled as he leaned forward and retesed his elbows onto his knees, his large hands gripped his chin as his eyes stared up at yours. The ocean blue he saw in your eyes was what captivated the most, no words fell from his mouth but slight breathes fell from his lips. He was locked in.

"Trent you upset me! Why?" You asked with an ache in every word. You sat closer to him on the L shaped couch as his hands started to play with themselves. "This isn't supposed to happen" you added as you pointed to the pair of you.

"I wasn't thinking clearly! I was stupid and naive and thought that I was doing everything right but I wasn't instead I was hurting the person closest to me and I cant ever forgive myself for that! If I could I would take it back and promise you I would never hurt you but I cant so please y/n forgive me" Trent said with withdrawn eyes and shakey hands. "I love you. I love us. Please baby" he added with even more emotion then the last, his eyes started to fill with water and the words he spoke added every detail to his sculpted eyes. You weren't sure what to say, his words where full of emotion and power in which you had never seen from him before. Your hand carefully moved towards his and you felt your fingers run towards his own. Your eyes looked up at his as he carefully let his orbs lock into yours.

"You can't do it again" you announced with urge as you couldn't handle anymore words to be said. Your hands fell closer into his as your eyes didn't take a second away from one another's.

"Y/n I promise" he said in his ever so famous accent. You didn't reply, your words ment to little in this moment. Your hand rested on his neck as your lips fell onto his, your mind may not have been completely at ease but it was what felt right. His lips locked onto yours and you where back to the same old dance you where so familiar with. This wasn't the end yet it wasn't the start it was the middle and you where prepared to do it all over again. This was love. You where in love with trouble.

I have had this in my drafts for so long so I'm sorry if it's all kinds off bad but I wanted to get this idea out! I love have a trent perspective without the reader involved also. Please leave feedback and requests as it is greatly appreciated. My advent calendar has also still got some dates left if anyone has any ideas! Have a great day! @prettylittletrent @cornertakenquicklyyyy @trentalexanderarnold @robbo38 @robbothegoat @kostasstsimikass @chelseamount @chloereddy @tsimikasfamily @avenirdelight @blueathens @jordanhendersunshine @mrs-henderson @thatonesexycancerian @hendersons1truelover @nyctophilic0vitnir @peekapeaches @tsimikxs @tsimikostas @trentalexarnofan @leddows @moneymasnn @superkittywonderland @virgilvansike @virgilvandickmedown @hopefulromantic1 @robbo-trent-fanfiction26

#lfc imagines #lfc masterlist #liverpool imagines #lfc imagine #england fc imagines #england x reader #england team imagine #trent alexander arnold imagines #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold imagine #trent alexander arnold x y/n #trent alexander arnold #england imagines #premier league imagines #lfc x reader #footballer x reader #footballer imagines #football fanfic

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never-forget-viva-la-pluto · 5 months

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So fitting that Trent Ikithon, the man who forced Caleb to burn his family alive because his name meant flame, gets got bc he was suplexed to the ground by Caleb's ice magic in virtually the same spot where his home burned down.

#caleb widogast #critical role #bren aldric ermendrud #trent ikithon #the mighty nein #the mighty nein reunion #echos of the solstice #cr spoilers #cr campaign 2 #critical role campaign 2

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fantasybellingham · 4 months

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Blackwood Pines.

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x female reader

Contains: explicit language, gruesome occurrences told in depth, sexual activities, death, mentions of inhuman creatures.

Face claim: Madison beer as y/n, Jude Bellingham as Jude, Trent Arnold as Trent, Marcus Rashford as Marcus, Declan rice as Declan and Selena gomez as Selena.

@bratzjunie , taglist.

“What lies beyond the veil of death is, after all, the ultimate unknown. And what could inspire fear more than the terror of uncertainty?”

𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗟𝗢𝗚𝗨𝗘 ➴

Every year, a group of young friends travel to an isolated ski lodge deep in the mountains for their annual retreat. When a mean-hearted prank goes awry, two of the friends are driven out into the icy darkness and are never heard from again.

the remaining six are invited to that same ski lodge to commemorate their friends' deaths. But when mysterious and deadly occurrences begin to happen, it quickly becomes clear that someone or something is out for blood... and not all of them might make it out alive.

Gripped by fear and with tensions in the group running high, you’ll be forced to make snap decisions that could mean life or death for everyone involved.

Jude and his friends are forced to live with the reason why Selena had ran off of his mean-hearted prank as he blames himself for her disappearance alongside Hannah who had ran after Selena, both of them being sisters.

Beside the killer on the loose, there are creatures roaming Blackwood pine’s that goes beyond their imagination.

Life-and-death moral dilemmas - Place yourself in impossible situations where there is no right or wrong answer. Friend or foe, live or die – make these decisions before it’s too late.

Bonds reform, some get broken— some friends betray, but in the end, for what it seems, no longer will trust be ever rekindled amongst the tight knitted group.

This story is based of the plot line of the game ‘until dawn’. There will be changes here and there but for a big part it’ll be followed in big lines. Therefore, this is a slow-burn that gradually turns it’s purpose into romance and surviving within the story.

#jude bellingham x yn #jude x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham #fantasybellinghamworks #until dawn

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spaghettinoodlesworld · 1 year

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The English Love Deception Pt2

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

Jude Bellingham X Reader Ft Trent Alexander Arnold

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: swearing and bullying

you straightened your hair and gave yourself a bit of waves towards the end ofc your natural hair slays but styling your hair gives you a bit of a confidence boost which you’ll be needing a lot of tonight.

You didn’t wanna glam up glam up but you did glam up glam up giving yourself the excuse of that you’re always going to dress up to matter where you’re going or how trivial the matter is *cough* not that one supermarket incident *cough*.

your black dress is short maybe a bit too short for the kinda cold weather these days but you enjoy it when your thighs quiver a bit as it gives you a fake sensation of alertness of your surroundings and that yes I’m alive. (Kinky if you ask me)

However, you’re secretly hoping that the chilly weather wouldn’t be the only reason why your thighs would shiver. ummmmm not that you’re expecting anything tonight .

“get yourself a jacket y/n unless you wanna end up in bed with the flu,”MJ screamed at you from the kitchen while you were making the last touch ups with the straightener, but what she said is right so you went to your closet and look for a jacket that won’t ruin your outfit.

The only jacket you found was a black leather jacket that used to belong to Trent. The jacket had this JB print on the inside which might explain his weird obsession with Justin Bieber’s songs on your road-trips together back in the days. You used to make yourself believe that you can still smell his cologne on it.

You haven’t really moved all your clothes from your grandparents house. You thought that the necessary pieces of clothes will do you well until now cause you’re lazy ass was too lazy and now your left with two options:

A)Wear the jacket and act clueless if Trent notices Because you really don’t wanna die frozen

B)Go without the jacket because you’re heart can’t stand another act of drama and die

Well you clearly don’t wanna die yet and you don’t want the reason of you staying in bed for a week to be a 80nm virus that isn’t not even considered as a living thing (bio classes guys focus in your bio classes)

“Are you guys ready?” You called for them at the door while you were putting on your knee high boots after you found yourself subconsciously touching the tattoo you had on your ankle with Trent’s name. You thought Trent was gonna be a permanent character in your life lover or not but now you’re left looking like an obsessive bitch which you’re seriously not.

“I swear y/n if it turns out that you’re fooling around with Bellingham and you’re lying to us I’ll make steak out of your left thigh and I’ll take this girl with me to burn your house down,” said MJ as she hooks an arm around Bunny’s neck while squinting at you.

“seriously guys? When have I ever lied to you guys about anything? Please don’t burn my house down I can’t go back to my grandparents’ house now after the scene I made” That question made them look at you deeply their eyes calling you a liar.

“Okay okay I know I’ve got history of hiding stuff but no trust me that Jude boy is the last person on earth I would even consider to look at,” you genuinely tell them crossing your arms to look firm and trustworthy usually it works most of the time.

“Okay guys let’s go we’re already late,” bunny says pushing us out of the door and ushering us towards the house next door, only for you to hear some serious barking.

I mean it makes sense why that dog hates your guts I mean his owner didn’t get an hour of discipline so it’s understandable that his dog would carry some of his owner’s traits. All respect to his mum though.

“Oh guys look at himmmm isn’t he the cutest,” bunny said as she went to play with the dog ruffling it’s fur acting all cute with your fucking nemesis.

“I don’t think we’re looking at the same creature. A friend of my enemy is my enemy too beware bunny I got my eyes on you,” you told her as you walk to the door.

“Oh come on he can’t be that bad just because he bit at your pants once doesn’t mean he hates you maybe there’s a misunderstanding or something,” MJ says as she rang the bell.

“I could’ve ended up with no legs girl that dog doesn’t bark only he bites too,” you desperately explained your understandable hatred at the dog

“I’ll get the door guys,” you hear a familiar voice saying from inside before opening the door, “oh it’s you girls”

Trent says as he hugs MJ and Bunny

his eyes linger a bit at your outfit focusing on your jacket you were hoping he’d say something hoping he’d tell you that everything was all just a dream and that he’s still the boy you trusted with your life. All you got was a “ y/n you were so missed,” with a hug that lasted 3 seconds you counted them cause you knew that’s all you’ll ever have from him.

He still felt the same he smelled the same you felt his muscles at you he definitely grew buffer good for him but it wasn’t good for your heart.

“the party is at the backyard let’s go I’ll leave you guys to mingle have fun ladies,” Trent says as he directs you guys to the backyard and left.

You felt sudden relief when he left and wow this Bellingham must be filthy rich cause look at all these doors and chandeliers. Everything was super clean and shiny the things you would do to actually own a house like this. The backyard was packed with people good looking people you may add.

Everyone had a radiating aura of confidence that you hoped was contiguous cause you really need to be infected with that.

“Now where are those hot football players don’t get me wrong the women are fine but we need to focus on our goals,” said MJ coach who was holding a cup of god knows what.

“I can’t seem to find Jude I mean it’s his house he should be here right?” Said bunny looking around for him. Oh god how I wish he just simply vanishes every time I remember how close he was to me, telling me to blatantly compliment him after he insulted me boils my blood.

What you didn’t know was the sight of Trent smiling and talk to his friends made your blood boil even more.

“I need to go to the bathroom so you guys can go have fun and I’ll come back quickly,” you told them, “just don’t have too much fun.”

You said winking at them before entering the house looking for someone to ask where the bathroom is. If you wanted to enjoy this party you need to calm down so you thought maybe collecting your nerves away from people would help a bit.

You heard a voice up the stairs so you went towards the voice hoping they’d direct you to were the toilet is, but you immediately stopped when you saw two people talking to each other quietly with the man pressing a lady to the wall.

You can’t make out their faces as the tall man’s back was towards you and he was covering the lady’s petite figure.

You must walk away as this is an infringement of privacy but you stopped moving when you heard her say

“Jude, this needs to stop,”

“stop? I haven’t even done anything Hannah this is fucking crazy and you should at least show a bit of empathy.”

“Whatever we had had ended a while ago you were just too proud to understand that I’ve dumped you for another I-“

The man who turns out to be Jude forcefully slams his hand next to the girls head causing both me and her to jump a bit. This man got some serious issues somebody needs to tell him that whatever he is doing is considered assault .

“You out of all people have zero right to talk about my feelings whatsoever. My friend whom I consider a brother fucking sent me an invitation to your fucking wedding and you expect me to just be so fucking happy about it?”

“I don’t like the way you’re talking to me Jude ,”

“I don’t give two shits if you like it or not. Is that how you return all my favours you go and date my best friend out of all people oh god not only date you’re fucking engaged to the man.”

“It’s not my fault you chose your career above your woman I guess it’s also my turn to choose too.”

“That’s messed up,” he whispers to himself, “can you hear how fucking messed up you sound now, Hannah? I didn’t find out about your wedding from you. Trent fucking sent me the invitation and I had to act all happy for my brother because I can’t tell him he’s getting married to a fucking snake who thinks of nothing but herself.”

“You left for Dortmund, Jude. Why is it when you do it it’s fine but when I do it it’s not?”

“We did talk about it dammit you even told me you supported my choice and said how it would make me an even better player. The moment I leave you go and jump my friend how is that fine in that fucking brain of yours?”

“I won’t allow you to speak of me in that manner, jude. There is nothing to be done anymore and I sincerely wished you’d be happy for me the way I was happy for you when you left to get closer to your dream.”

“The likes of you are a disgrace to the female population. No words can describe my anger towards you fr.”

“I heard from Trent that you got yourself a little girlfriend though I wish you both well oh and do bring her next week to the wedding,” Hannah said pushing Jude away walking towards the stairs. I hurry and I hide behind the staircase and wait for her to leave. This girl be causing a lot of problems everywhere she goes. Not my problem though everyone who associates himself with her can suit himself because he probably deserve it.

You don’t condone cheating though if that was the case.

I was dreading my meeting with Trent I guess it’s Hannah I should be scared of.

I go for the stairs and only to bump into something.

“Excuse me sir,” you automatically said

“I guess I’m not a ma’am anymore?” Jude said in a tone I can’t describe.

“Do I know you?” You act cluelessly if there is something you aren’t you aren’t either delusional nor a good actor.

You can sense how annoyed he got when you claimed that you didn’t know him. Ha, I’ll step on that ego of yours, mf.

“There are more snacks in the kitchen guys come help me get them,” a voice came from downstairs. You suddenly felt a warm firm arm circling your waist and pushed you towards the hallway upstairs away from the voices below.

“You seriously do have something for pushing people around,”

“ oh so dora the explorer actually remembers who I am”

“yes and as I recall I remember you saying I look like a gorilla looking desk”

“monkey not gorilla”

“Same thing” you rolled your eyes at how immature this convo sounds now.

“no definitely not the same thing and if I can say, I’d say you make a fine monkey looking desk now.”

“Well no doubt girls don’t last long with you if that’s your way of flirting with them.”

“you have contacts on right? I liked you better when you couldn’t see. ”

“I see you haven’t replied to my comment that means I’m actually right. Well I’m always right but you just proved that I am.” You covered yourself with your jacket as it started getting chilly.

Jude noticed your movement and deeply inspected the jacket.

“This jacket looks extremely familiar. God i have the same exact one and I can’t seem to find it.”

“I don’t know but this jacket is mine I borrowed it from a friend of mine and somehow it’s still with me so that means it’s now my-“ you didn’t even get to finish your sentence before Jude got closer to you and slid the jacket off your left shoulder. He then got even more closer to your neck to look at the inside of the jacket.

His hot breath hit your neck you can’t help but gasp at the sensation. You hoped he would mistake your reaction as a gasp to him removing your jacket not you acting stupid cause he exchanged some oxygen and CO2 beside your neck.

“now will you be a good girl and tell me what is my jacket doing in your possession?”

“I told you it’s not your jacket it’s mine I came from my house with it on.”

“Well care to explain why does your jacket have my initials? Are you perhaps a stalker?” He said emphasizing ’your’. He looked you in the eyes questioning you as if the deeper he looks the more answers he would find. Surprisingly he wasn’t angry nor annoyed he was genuinely intrigued.

“JB could stand for Justin Bieber Jonas Brothers Jacob Black (team Edward for life though) the list goes on. You don’t have any evidence that it is yours and I don’t know who you are.” You lied you don’t want to look dumb if you told him you knew he was the first teen football player who scored in the World Cup he’d 100% be sure that you’re a stalker which you’re obviously not. Apparently you took the jacket from Trent who took Jude’s jacket but you’ll keep that to yourself for now.

“Even though you’re extremely suspicious and now accused of theft, stalking and eavesdropping may I add, I’ll let you keep the jacket but I want something in return,” he said before he leaned very closely to your ear you swore you felt his luscious lips tickling your earlobe. He knew you were eavesdropping I mean it was kinda obvious. he then whispered his deal that made you shout instinctively

“YOU WANT ME TO BE YOUR WHAT?”

#jude bellingham x you #bellingham #footballer x reader #borrusia dortmund #england football #bvb dortmund #football fic #jude bellingham x y/n #jude bellingham x reader #x reader #world cup #jb22 #football #trent alexander arnold #jude bellingham fanfiction #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham

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blorbologist · 6 months

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Trick or Treat, Empire Siblings, Chains

Trick or treat! I'm personally unsure which this one qualifies as, but chains can be tricky to work with!

“Do you ever think about the manacles?” Beau says, just above the tower’s purring thrum.

Caleb glances up, places his novel (Feather Leather, finally tracked down what that barkeep had been reading) on the sidetable. Jinx and Ruth will see to it’s return to the bookshelf.

She says it casually, not looking at him, playing with the chain of a bracelet around her wrist. A recent gift from Yasha, with peculiar flowers preserved in its charms. But the words ran from her lips, an old habit never beaten from her by tutor or adventure, and Caleb would not be her friend to be flippant about it.

He does, nonetheless, have to wrack his mind for it. “The manacles? Like -”

“The manticore,” Beau says. “The - uh, fuck - something with the marrow? Could have sworn we came across them a few other times too.”

Caleb nods. “The Angel of Irons.” Now her eyes meet his, the blue of new shadows. “The Chained Oblivion.”

She hums, throwing her legs over the arms of her chair, perfecting the clumsy embrace. Keep her from kicking, nervous habit. Almost, almost touches the scar on her chest, where she was run through in that god’s name in a church. Gestures instead, to put the energy to use. “Yeah, that.

“I just… most of those were broken. Like, the things escaped, or were busted out. And now Trent…”

Beauregard, he realizes, is looking at his wrists. The thin shards of scar tissue peering from beneath his sleeves.

At where Trent had thick iron bands splayed over weak flesh, not for the security of them but the symbolism. For him to be in shackles before trial, hands glued to forever supplicate for mercy he had never provided.

“I dunno,” she says. “Maybe we shouldn’t have expected chains to work. Hasn’t in all the times we’ve run into them.”

Caleb hums.

Maybe they should have burned Trent alive, so he could feel as a boy’s parents and cat had. Or fed him sweet cyanide, as Astrid’s mothers enjoyed. Or strangle him, of air and hope and life, and see Eadwulf’s face to the last. Or keep him to a chair and implant terrible things to him, or send him from his home to die against those he thought monsters when none - no dragon, no city, no god - could rival.

But he is not, and never was, the man to do that. To be as his teacher was. Besides, to many a wizard death can be but an escape. The ailing body was more a prison than any chains.

(In the back of his mind, in the knowledge of the moon hanging low and bloodhungry, he hopes this of the Chained Oblivion.)

He lets the thought lie, plucks another from the shelf: “Well. One of your wife’s epithets is Chainbreaker, so I suppose it’s something we are to stick to, hm?”

Beau leans fack back. “I forgot about that.”

And then her eyebrow cocks, readying for a blow: “Speaking of… hey, remember when we rocked up to the Bright Queen in full BDSM gear? And Essek was there? Remember, Caleb?”

He sighs. No, he did not forget about that.

🎃Trick or Treat! Send me an ask and you'll get a trick (angst) or treat (fluff) ficlet in return! 🎃

#critical role #critical role spoilers #cr spoilers #tagging spoilers for echoes of the solstice #caleb widogast #beauregard lionett #the mighty nein #empire siblings #cr fanfic #gonna take a lil break after this one! brb

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dent-de-leon · 5 months

Note

Thinking about Caleb's early campaign appearance and how Molly was still Like That ™️ about him is giving me feelings.

Yes!! Ironically, I think it was everything Caleb loathed about himself at the start that made Mollymauk start to fall for him. When Lucien suggested that no one could ever care for someone like him, that the Nein would never be able to forgive him for his betrayal, Molly reassures him--"That's not how we are, Lucien. We love broken things the most."

From the moment Mollymauk first crawled out of the grave, he'd felt lost. Empty. Broken. And it made him drawn to other desperate, lonely souls that felt just as hollow and abandoned in the world. He runs to Yasha's side and protects her from an angry mob--takes her hand and offers her a new home. With just a glance, he sees how much she's suffering, and he can't just let her face it alone. "I know what the others think, but, the truth is...How do I put this...The world is harsh and cruel, and I don't seem to be able to just walk on by. You see a wrong? You fix it."

And that fight in Alfield? When Molly keeps guarding Caleb in battle, rushes in to put out the flames and tries to snap him out of his panic attack? The way he tries so hard to break through to him because it's too dangerous--they can't do this, not here--"Time for that later." So he does what he can to get Caleb out, keep him safe, guide him to someplace better. "Come on, let's go get some sunlight."

And of course, there's the way he tries to comfort Caleb with a kiss, grounds him with a bit of affection and warmth after all the pain and fire that burned away at him. The way Molly tries to reach out to Caleb here? It's not so different from how he ran to the Platinum Dragon's temple and risked his life for someone who was suffering--someone still petrified in shock and grief.

That's who Molly is. I think about how Molly said, "We love broken things the most." And I think about when Caleb laid all his grief bare, choking up as he admitted, "I...broke, a bit." How much Caleb hates and loathes himself for it--despises his own "weakness," his "cowardice," the way his resolve just crumbles when it all falls apart--

Caleb always being terrified that he is damned beyond redemption. That his soul is twisted, shattered, corrupt. Broken. So of course Molly loves him. How could he not, when Caleb's hurting so much? When he's the exact kind of person Molly can't help getting so attached to, becoming so fiercely protective of?

It really is easy, to love Caleb later on in the campaign. He's no longer burying himself in dirt and trying so desperately to run and hide. He's charming, clever, ambitious, daring, courageous, determined, powerful--he's someone who's tired of running, who knows what he's fighting for, and will do everything he can to defend it. He's more self-assured, confident, composed.

He's also done so much healing, reached a point in his life where he is ready to open up again, seeks to do good every day, to become the man his parents always knew he could be. (And just...when Trent asks Caleb what his new goal in life is, Caleb has the strength to look him in the eye and say, "I think mostly we are just trying to leave the world better than we found it." And it's because of Molly he feels like that--)

But Molly falling for him at the very beginning? That's not easy--Caleb doesn't make it easy. He's trying so hard to push everyone away, to keep from ever getting attached. He's purposely trying to avoid attracting any sort of attention, trying to make himself appear as dismissive and undesirable as possible. Everyone else in the Nein is just a means to an end--or so Caleb desperately tries to tell himself. And Mollymauk? "I should go right now...Look at this one. He's like a walking rainbow, what is this? He's a circus performer, he's not going to help you."

The last night Molly was alive, and Caleb is trying to think of a reason to abandon him and the rest of the Nein, a reason why he and the others aren't worth staying for. And while he's agonizing with his conscience over that, while he's trying so hard to keep from ever getting attached--what does Molly think about Caleb in turn? How did he feel for Caleb, after knowing him the same exact amount of time? Well, first and foremost...it seems he still thinks of the kiss--

"Another kiss came to him like a tricky word just on the tip of the tongue, elusive yet tantalizing, though the sentiment felt real enough--a friend in crisis emerging to a kiss on the forehead. A tender banishment. Caleb. Softness and light. Clammy skin under rough lips. Molly's nose brushing Caleb's hair..."

And Molly feels so strongly for him, even while Caleb was so bitter, resentful, grief-stricken and wallowing in his own guilt--and all of these things are absolutely understandable--he doesn't owe anyone an explanation for it, for how he processes the raw pain and trauma and tries to protect himself from ever reliving it. But at the time, he was perhaps at his lowest, at his most desperate and lonely and despondent, refusing to let anyone else even get close. Regardless of how badly they wanted to help, to reach out to him.

It speaks volumes, that Molly looks at Caleb while he's still so pained and cold, so heartbroken and angry at the world and himself. But then there's Molly, and he looks at his Magician and sees, "Softness and light." This is before Caleb has gone through all that trying character development and catharsis, before he's managed to come to terms with everything and finally start to forgive himself.

This is a Caleb Widogast who still believed he would sacrifice the Nein if it meant he'd get what he wanted, if it meant a chance at more power, a means to finally bend reality to his will--the only possible way he thought he could ever set things right--

At this point, Caleb could've kept telling himself Molly and the others were just disposable. Stepping stones on his way to something better. Just the interim until he could finally "fix" the past, make it so he's no longer "broken"--

But Molly had feelings for him regardless. Even if they weren't returned--at least, not yet, not until Molly was lying lifeless and still and Caleb gently brushed the hair out of his eyes, buried him with a letter and then begged, "This could be a reunion--"

But even back then. Caleb was still "softness and light" to Mollymauk, and their brief time together meant so much to him. When Lucien insists those moments are gone--whatever Molly had with Caleb and the others, it's all gone--Molly simply says, "Kindness is never lost or forgotten." And he uses the memory of kissing Caleb to make that point. Explicitly tells Lucien that, no matter what, those little acts of tenderness and affection still mattered, still meant something to him, even after death. That's how much he loves Caleb, and it just breaks my heart--

#mollymauk #caleb widogast #widomauk #it will always make me feral that molly loved caleb even from the very beginning #even when caleb himself thought he wasnt capable of being loved. just--#how molly still cares for him so much and then tells lucien that time he spent feeling for caleb and everyone else mattered. the fact that #he loved them will always mean something--#also. caleb thinking hes broken and molly who also feels that way about himself and therefore loves other brokenhearted souls the most...#im in shambles

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terezis · 6 months

Text

ok also listen i'm DOWN with luc being here i love the drama but the optics of bringing a kid who was previously burnt to death after fleeing from trent ikithon, to a fight with trent ikithon, the man who previously convinced another young child to burn his family alive,

is a WILD choice LMFAO

#cr spoilers #LIKE GUYS. HELLO. GUYS

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scaryscarecrows · 4 days

Note

Can we have some stories of times that Frank, beloved Squad Dad, had to give each of them a hug? Thanks!

"Christ, where are they?"

"I don't know, I'm looking. You're sure you weren't followed?"

"Positive." Frank shuffles closer to the monitors and dodges the angry swat. "Relax, son, I'm just lookin', not touchin'."

"You're a menace. Fingers to yourself."

"Christ, you hit one touchscreen--"

"No touching!"

Frank had hit it. He'd hit it pulling Jimmy into a tight hug because oh, thank God, somebody's still alive with that cyclops bastard on the warpath. Jimmy'd fixed it fast enough, it's fine. They're both fine. For now.

The front door opens and closes and Antoine's voice, exhausted and wrung out, reaches them before he does.

"Tell me I'm not walking into a room of corpses."

"Nope." Jimmy switches screens. "Frank's here. Everybody else has gone dark. He follow you?"

"I lost him."

"You hear from the boss?"

"No. Was hoping you had."

"Uh-uh." He comes over, next to Frank, and slumps forward. "You got nothing?"

"Zilch. I can kinda track Deathstroke--chatter, y'know--but it's a ballpark."

"Great."

Frank pulls him into a one-armed hug and promptly rips his hand back when he hits blood.

"What the hell?"

"Armor took the brunt."

"For fuck's sake--c'mon, lemme take a look at it. Next time, lead with the gunshot wound, okay? And gimme your cigarettes."

Trent narrowly avoids taking the door off its hinges half an hour later. Antoine's collapsed in Jimmy's spare rolly chair, insisting that he's fine, and Frank has largely given up fighting him on it.

"I swear to God," Trent pants, "when we find the boss, I'm giving him the biggest fucking I Told You So."

"You're not hurt?"

"Nah. I got him to back off with the mini gun and lost him on the back streets." Trent grins and plunks said mini gun on the ground. "Shit, man, you didn't try to fight him, did you?"

"Fuck off," Antoine mutters. "No."

Trent looks fine. Out of breath, a bit, and his hands are badly burned from the confrontation with the Bat, but otherwise he's okay. Well, apart from the bruise on his head, also courtesy of Batman. When Frank pulls him in for a quick hug, there's no broken bones or questionable bloody spots, either.

"I'm okay. Just. You know. Pissed."

"I don't think this was part of the contingency plan."

"Yeah, well, I'm still getting in my I Told You So," Trent gripes. "Because I did. I said that one-eyed bastard was trouble. And now look."

"We all said it. He said it, too, remember?"

"Still. How do we know he didn't double-cross us?"

"We don't, but it's not his style." Jimmy pauses. "Everyone shut up. I got activity at one of the safehouses in Drescher, just lemme work."

Mark gets there before Riley does, but there's no time for anything because they've found the Knight, all right, but everything's gone tits-up. They're all gathered around the screen--Mark's only half paying attention, with Antoine's shoulder an' all--watching in anticipatory horror. Well, not Trent. He left to meet them, to offer any help possible. But they're keeping him updated. Frank would love to do the same, but Batman destroyed most of the drones, the remainder are hacked, and Batman also fucked up his leg earlier tonight. So he has to sit here and stew and curse whatever deity did this to them.

Riley made it. He must have. Frank doesn't know anybody else who has a snowball's chance in hell at shooting Deathstroke. A cheer goes up when the assassin staggers back, and yeah, all right, when he's not their problem, the Bat's an impressive fighter. More importantly, he stands a chance at dealing with this asshole.

"Trent's comin' to you," Antoine says tiredly. Mark tries to take the mic away and gets swatted at. "We looking at a pickup or a...a retrieval?"

Silence. Then rapid taps: pickup.

Oh, thank God. Something goes right tonight.

"Okay. He's about...Jimmy, get me--thanks--five minutes out. How bad is it?"

"Not as bad as it'll be when I'm done," Mark grumbles. "Fucking idiot. What the hell got into him? That was never gonna go well."

"Could'a been fear toxin," Frank reminds him. "Could'a been anything."

"Goddamn moron."

"Yeah, well. That's nothing new."

"Humph."

Frank just laughs at him, gives him a friendly elbowing.

"Might wanna grab a Coke," he says. "Night ain't over yet."

Riley gets three steps inside before Frank grabs him. Mark's not here to lecture, but that's okay.

"The hell," he says, "was that?"

No answer, but a second later he realizes it's because Riley's arms are pinned. Whoops.

He lets him go and straightens up, hands on hips.

"Well?"

It worked.

"You were gonna try to kick his ass."

Yeah.

"For chrissakes, boy--"

He'd have done it for us.

Yeah. Yeah, he would have. For better or worse.

"Can't argue with that," he says softly. "C'mon, may as well comfy up."

Riley shrugs. He looks exhausted now, with the adrenaline worn off, and his hands are shaking a little. Frank claps him on the shoulder with a little more force than strictly necessary and steers him away from the computers.

"Get on, now."

#asks #arkhamverse #scaryverse #the squad #mark does not get a full hug because mark bites #literally he is a not a huggy person and you might get chomped #probably not but the risk is not zero

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lilmissnatcat24 · 4 months

Text

Turn Left Ch 27- The Monty Hall Problem

Forces work to separate Shepard and Garrus just as things heat up. (CW: drug use)

Relationship: Femshep/Garrus Vakarian

Archive Warnings in author's note

Additional tags: enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn, slow build, alternate universe- canon divergence, detective noir, sex club, anonymous sex, canon temporary character death, murder mystery, drug use, dom garrus vakarian, whump, smut, heavy angst, alien sex, dual pov, an overly sexual elcor named candy, earthborn, ruthless, fake/pretend relationship, dead dove: do not eat, identity porn, minor character death

Detective AU mixed with identity porn mixed with so much whump my fingers are bleeding

(or, start from the beginning here)

lil text blurb:

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

The glass case that surrounded Medina’s office gave Shepard the distinct feeling as if she were a lobster in one of those all-you-can-eat buffets just waiting to be boiled alive and dunked in obscene amounts of butter. She always liked to say that Medina had a glass office because he was into some kinky exhibitionist shit and enjoyed torturing his officers with everyone else in the precinct watching as if it were some gruesome spacecar crash that they couldn’t turn away from. Today was no exception.

His voice on the tool was strained and oddly formal when he asked Shepard where she was. Of course, she couldn’t exactly say she was hosting two fugitives in a C-Sec appointed safehouse, now could she? So she lied, like she did so often that came out easier and faster than the truth, spinning some yarn that she was meeting one of her moles that was starting to feel a little queasy about their placement. Medina didn’t yell, he didn’t raise his voice-- which for him was absolutely a first. In a chokingly polite way, he asked that Shepard come see him as soon as she possibly could, as it was a sensitive matter of great importance. And he actually said those words in that order like it was fucking 1876 or something.

Medina, not looking up at Shepard, gestured down to the seat in front of his desk that she was convinced was designed with absolutely zero comfort and one hundred percent torture in mind. His eyes, jet black and piercing, were trained on his hands, his periwinkle tattoos bisecting his face in half down his nose and mouth. Shepard didn’t know if it was because she was spending a whole lot of time with turians lately, but she swore she could hear his subvocals. Or at least, she could feel the rumbling underneath her feet, as if they were an old generator running in another room.

“Sit. Please. Do you want a water? Coffee?” Oh fuck. Medina was not a nice man. He didn’t do polite smalltalk. Either he was about to hurl the table across the office and shatter one of the walls, or he was about to tell Shepard that he was terminally ill, there was no in between. She shook her head. “Alright then. I’m going to give you a chance first. Do you want to tell me why you think you’re in my office right now?”

Shepard had no clue. And this time, she wasn’t kidding around. She had gotten into so much trouble lately, the list of Reasons Why Medina Would Call Her Into His Office was so long that it stretched out past her desk and snaked itself onto the floor. So she shook her head, staring pointedly down at her knees. She figured the less blabbing she did, the chances that she would park her foot right in her mouth were present.

“Nothing? Nothing at all that would make you think that I would want to talk to you?”

“I paid Trent in Hacking fifty creds to jimmy the vending machines to my touch ID so that I get free protein bars,” Shepard blurted out. Medina just stared at her for what seemed like minutes, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth.

He reached underneath his desk for a datapad, tossing it forward until it skidded to a halt in front of Shepard. Hands shaking slightly, she picked it up, expecting the very worst. Her leading a charge against Fist in Chora’s Den, her breaking Wrex out of prison, her housing a fugitive, her letting Benezia’s daughter murder two asari in front of the precinct…

#mass effect fanfiction #mass effect #mass effect fanfic #shakarian #shepard x garrus #ao3 fanfic #turn left #femshep #garrus vakarian

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spidergxys · 1 year

Text

For @ragtagrunaways who wanted a starter

(for trent or andrew or anyone that works - could of been rescued or captured)

Matthew began to stir slowly, the feeling of his suit still against his body but no longer felt the cold hard sensation of concrete under him. His vision was blurry somewhat as he tried to remember what happened. There had been an explosion in an apartment complex, fire and smoke. Matthew had gone in to save people and had gotten everyone out...but had got caught up in the explosion maybe? All he remembered was a painful sensation in the back of his head and then blacking out.

But instead of being dead or burn to a crisp, he was alive and seemingly uninjured for the most part. His vision finally coming together to make him realize he was in a room of some kind. Definitely not on fire, where was he...?

“What the...?”

#c:matthew #ragtagrunaways

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wonderlandleighleigh · 2 years

Text

(This is the long, completed version of Jess dreaming about Lenny after he’s passed away)

He’s been reading too hard again.

Jess Mariano has a weird habit, where if he reads too hard, too much, it all starts showing up in his dreams, and Lenny’s memoir is no exception.

He dreams of a dim, smoky café, where a woman in a fancy black dress and pearls is making the audience laugh.

“She’s so good,” the man next to him says reverently, and when he looks, he finds a tall man, dark hair and a hand in front of his mouth, watching the woman intently.

“Lenny?” Jess marvels.

He smirks. “Hey, kid.”

“You-”

“Ssshh. Just listen.”

And Jess does, and it takes him all of a second to realize that that’s Midge onstage, eating the audience alive. And Lenny is right. She is so, so good.

“...Anyhow, my point is, with the ring came the sex. Exclusive sex. Right? Something to count on. Something you know is yours. Like a social security number or a family history of insanity.”

Jess laughs quietly and Lenny smiles.

“Sometimes I look back on this night,” he tells Jess. “And I wonder why I waited so long.”

“Weren’t you still married to Honey when this happened?” Jess asks.

Lenny nods. “I was. But not for very much longer. I could have made a move sooner. I just- I didn’t know if she- hold on, this is my cue.”

Midge wraps her set to thunderous applause, and then rushes off the stage, launching herself into Lenny’s arms, and he hugs her tightly.

“How could you not have known that she wanted you?” Jess asks, a little annoyed.

Lenny smirks from over Midge’s shoulder. “Don’t bother the dead, kid.”

Jess wakes up with a jolt after that, looking around Luke’s old apartment above the diner and rolls his eyes.

“Fuck.”

*****

Another night. Another dream. A cramped little jazz club, and this time, he’s onstage with Lenny as Lenny does his set.

Except he’s not actually doing his set, he’s talking to Jess.

“I clocked her in the audience right when she took a seat,” Lenny tells him. “The headband and the cute little black pants and the coat. After Trent and the three - the guys behind me - hey guys - play their first set, I’m gonna invite her out back with us to get high, and then she’s going to stand right here where I’m standing, and roast the fuck out of me for a years-old joke she saw me tell at a strip club once.”

Jess watches Lenny carefully, this youthful version he’s only seen in photos and the occasional documentary. He’s so used to the older version: a little stooped and white-haired with hard-earned wrinkles. It’s deeply strange to see him at nearly thirty-five.

“Love at first roast?” Jess offers, amused.

Lenny grins and nods sheepishly. “It’s not entirely inaccurate.”

Jess wakes with less of a jolt then and sighs. It feels like Lenny is trying to tell him something, but that’s fucking ridiculous.

He takes the coldest shower he can stand and starts his day.

*****

Another night.

Another dream.

A dive bar on a rainy night.

Lenny sits between Jess and Midge, and he’s looking truly rundown.

“Newly divorced, on the run from a warrant for my arrest in Chicago,” Lenny shrugs. “Missing my daughter, and a little homeless…aimless…and there she is. Until the day I died I never figured out why she kept saving me.”

“She loves you, Lenny,” Jess tells him. “It’s that simple.”

Lenny takes the drink in front of Jess and downs it, clearly feeling the burn of it. “That was still not my drink.”

Jess chuckles softly.

“It’s going to be okay,” Midge says firmly.

Lenny looks at Midge and shakes his head. “She has this habit, you know. She knows just what to say when my whole heart is in tatters. She’s gonna do it again in another moment.”

Jess looks confused. These dreams never have full conversations, it seems.

“I’m going to tell her about my Steve Allen gig, and she’s going to catch that I am fucking nervous,” Lenny explains. “She’s going to tell me about accompanying her very young son- who will, in a handful of years - become my stepson - on his first playdate, and how she stayed outside the whole time, even though it rained.”

“Want me to stand outside your playdate?” Midge asks, grinning at Lenny understandingly.

“And there it is,” Lenny tells him. “In that one sentence. That’s when there was no turning back.” He gets to his feet, digging out some money to pay for the drink he stole, and keeps chatting with Jess. “I’m going to tell her to bring her umbrella to my playdate, and leave like I’m cool or something. But in reality…fuck, I don’t know. Sometimes it was tough not to beg her to come home with me - not that I had a home at this point.”

Jess follows, shoving his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. “Umbrella.” He remembers Lenny’s funeral. Being asked to bring one. Everyone being asked to bring one. Midge had stepped out of the car at the cemetery for the burial to a sea of umbrellas, lifted her own very pink one, and led the way.

And this is why.

Jess wakes up and sighs, staring at the ceiling. What are the point of these stupid fucking dreams? Is he really just reading too much, too hard on Lenny’s memoir? Is this a belated grieving thing?

Jesus.

*****

“This is not a proud moment for me,” Lenny tells Jess as they stand out on the sidewalk in front of Midge’s apartment building on the Upper West Side.

The sun is shining, Lenny has lost a shoe, Midge is bewildered, and the whole thing looks like I mess.

“I got high last night,” Lenny explains. “And then drank a lot of whiskey. A lot. Of whiskey. And I blacked out on 8th Street. And luckily - or unluckily, I thought at the time - Midge was passing by. She spotted me. Brought me here.” He turns to the building. “To sleep it off safely.”

“Were you together?”

“No,” Lenny confesses. “We’ve been…dancing. Around this thing of ours, but no. And I was humiliated. And hungover and just-” He sighs, looking ashamed. “I took my shame out on her. I was horrible to her.”

“Why?”

“What was the impetus every time you were an asshole to Rory?” Lenny asks as he tries to offer Midge money, and Jess’s eyes go wide with panic at the gesture.

“Lenny - fucking - no!”

“I’m sorry, what do you think happened last night?”

“Answer the question,” Lenny says.

“I was fucked up and angry at myself and - ashamed of myself,” Jess tells him as he climbs into the cab with Lenny while Midge storms back into the building.

“Yeah,” Lenny drawls. “My poor Miriam. The things I put her through. This bullshit, and the drugs…the convictions and appeals…she should have left me so many times. She had every right to, and she couldn’t do it.”

“That whole love thing again,” Jess quips.

“Don’t joke,” Lenny tells him as he lights a cigarette. “Midge has seen shit that would have you running scared.”

Jess takes a breath. “Lenny, why do you keep popping up like this?”

Lenny shrugs. “Seemed like there was more to talk about with you. More to explain. You and I, we always had nice conversations. Maybe you’re not ready for them to end yet.”

He wakes up and shakes his head. “Fuck.”

*****

He stops Jess from walking into that very blue hotel room.

“Not on your fucking life, kid,” Lenny tells him, and shuts the door.

Jess wakes up laughing, but once he goes back to sleep, he finds himself dreaming of a bathroom and a bag.

And Lenny again.

“The thing you don’t know about me,” he says, standing there in nothing but a pair of undershorts, looking younger than Jess can ever remember even in pictures, the scars on the insides of his arms on display. “Is that I have always been a god-damn monster. And the idea that Midge didn’t think so is the only thing that kept me from dying young.”

Jess wakes up again, and finds himself in his own bathroom with his cell phone.

“Hello?” Rory asks sleepily.

“I-”

“Jess?”

“Sorry. I’m sorry.”

He hangs up.

*****

The problem with these dreams - the big problem - is that none of these instances are detailed in the book. Mentions are made of clubs and cafes. Of Blue rooms. But Lenny purposefully left out details that Jess has been dreaming about.

And he’s not sure what to do with that information, because either those things really happened and Jess is going bonkers, or he’s just dreaming weirdly specific stuff.

And he knows he should ask Midge about it, but he can’t bring himself to do so. Midge is Midge and Midge will always tell him that she’s okay. That it doesn’t hurt too much. That Lenny lived a long, full life, and it was his time. But it doesn’t change the fact that she’s now living out the last years of her life without him, and that has to hurt.

So in the morning when she stops in for breakfast, as she so often does, he just pours her coffee and asks her how her day is so far.

But he finds himself looking at Midge in a new light. Not as the elderly woman who has always, somehow shown him kindness and tried to be family to him when he had very little, but he sees, now, the young, funny, fierce woman Lenny had fallen in love with.

“Have you ever thought about writing another book?” Jess asks out of the blue.

Midge looks surprised. “Not really.”

“I mean, you don’t talk much about the early days in the one you wrote,” Jess points out. “Lenny doesn’t give a whole lot of details, but he talks about meeting you in the memoir. You kind of gloss over a lot of that stuff.”

She shrugs, grinning. “Some things are just for me.”

Jess nods, and keeps working, only for Rory to pop over to the counter.

"Hey."

He nods to her. "Hey."

Rory purses her lips. "You called me last night and then hung up."

"Yeah," Jess confirms sheepishly. "I had a weird dream and I … I guess I wigged out a little.:

She frowns. "Wanna talk about it?"

"No. But thanks."

*****

"You know when you really let someone down?" Lenny asks from a hospital bed.

Another dream.

Lenny looks young and too thin and too pale.

And Jess knows this is the overdose.

Jess nods. "Yeah."

Lenny sighs and gazes past him, at the woman dozing in a chair in the corner. "Yeah."

Jess takes a breath and looks Lenny in the eyes. “Why?”

The other man can only shrug and shake his head. “I don’t have answers. If I did, I don’t think I’d have wound up in this hospital bed.”

“It just feels like you’ve been trying to tell me something,” Jess presses. “All these dreams, night after night.”

Lenny just grins.

And Jess wakes up.

*****

“Do you dream about your grandfather?” Jess asks as he and Rory wander around the bookstore the next day. “Richard. Does he pop up a lot?”

Rory frowns at him curiously. “Sometimes. But not in a significant way. Like, I’ll turn a corner, and he’ll be sitting there, reading a newspaper, and he’ll smile, or…or wave. But nothing intense or detailed.”

Jess nods slowly as he tosses another book onto his stack of “to buy”’s.

“Are you dreaming about Lenny?” Rory asks carefully.

Jess blinks. “It’s just- weird. It’s weird. You know?”

“He was family to you,” Rory points out gently. “And you miss him.”

Jess just nods, but doesn’t say anything.

“If you wanted to talk about it,” Rory offers gently.

“Maybe,” he allows. “Maybe not now, but…maybe.”

She shrugs and grins at him. “Whenever.”

“Yeah.”

*****

“People really hated Midge after we got together,” Lenny explains as he lays back on a couch with Midge snuggled in against his chest as they read a newspaper together. “They thought that she was the reason I got clean, and they thought it made my comedy weaker. Less funny. Except all the bits people claimed were from my early days were from my post-drugs, with-Midge days…getting clean made me sharper, made the humor more biting. Angrier in a lot of ways. Got me in more trouble in some ways. People didn’t want to believe it.”

“Another reason she should have left you?” Jess offers.

“Eh. She’s not gonna,” Lenny shrugs, kissing the top of Midge’s head tenderly. “I got lucky.”

“I’m sick of these dreams,” Jess snaps as he paces around the living room.

“Then stop having them.”

“How?!”

Lenny shrugs again.

Jess wakes up and snarls, hopping out of bed and calling Rory.

*****

“I keep having these dreams,” he admits, agitated as he paces the gazebo. The sun isn’t up. He woke Rory up for this, and he feels bad, but- “Every night this week, just - dream after dream, always Lenny, always something I’m pretty sure happened but I shouldn’t know that it happened. Always - talking about - him and Midge.”

“Jess-”

“I don’t know what he’s trying to tell me! Should this stuff be in the book? Am I supposed to learn some kind of after-school-special bullshit life lesson from all of this?”

“Maybe you just miss him,” Rory says firmly from her seat on the bench, and it stops him in his tracks.

He says nothing, staring at her face.

“Lenny and Midge were a really stabilizing force in your life,” Rory offers. “They never broke up. They never got divorced, they never cheated on each other or actively hated each other. They were in love, and they love you like you're one of their own grandkids. And now half of that force is gone, and your brain is trying to make sense of that reality.”

Jess swallows and looks down.

“Do you need a hug?” Rory asks, getting to her feet. “I promise no funny stuff.”

He shrugs and tries to joke. “I wouldn’t necessarily be opposed to funny stuff.”

Rory laughs softly and hugs him around the neck. “Shut up.”

*****

Jess stands in the corner behind Midge's chair, watching them stare at each other.

"This place doesn't feel a little...I don't know. Weird and racist to you?" he asks.

Lenny shrugs. "It was the sixties. We were not woke."

Jess chuckles softly and wanders around a little, looking at the other patrons as they dance and drink.

"So this was your big plan to get her to fall for you?" he asks.

"Part of a larger scheme," Lenny admits. "Before this, we did a TV appearance on Miami After Dark with Bry Adler."

"The Hugh Hefner Wannabe?" Jess scoffs.

"Eh, I had already done the Playboy Penthouse thing," Lenny shrugs. "So we just ate dinner. We're enjoying drinks and each other's company. Nice and atmospheric."

"And weird and racist," Jess adds.

"Thanks for that."

"I'm just saying."

Lenny sighs heavily. "I wanted everything to be perfect. I wanted this night to be...I don't know. I think in the back of my head, I figured if I get one shot at this, I wanted to make it count. She's going to turn me down at the end of the night, by the way. We'll get back to my place, and she'll look at me and I'll look at her, and she'll hail a cab to get back to her hotel."

Jess frowns. "Why?"

Lenny takes a drag off his cigarette before putting it out and getting to his feet, offering Midge a hand. "Because stepping into that room would change what we are to each other. And she wasn't ready for it yet."

"You dance?"

Jess watches as Midge takes his hand and he gently leads her onto the dance floor.

He watches them, and thinks back on dancing with Rory at Luke and Lorelai's wedding. How comfortable that had been.

And suddenly, for the first time in any of these dreams, Lenny isn't talking to him.

"What's the matter? I'm not that bad."

Midge gazes at him. "I just can't think of anything funny to say."

Lenny agrees. "Me either. It's kind of nice, isn't it?"

Jess sits back, still watching as Midge rests her head on Lenny's shoulder, and he settles her hand onto his neck, holding her arm gently. And just like that, they go from Midge and Lenny...to MidgeandLenny. The MidgeandLenny that Jess has known since he was a dumb kid, with all of the tenderness and strength they always had with each other. For each other. Because of each other.

When he wakes up, he stares at the ceiling,

*****

He winds up coming clean to Liz one night on her front porch, over a couple of beers.

Liz shrugs. “You just miss him, Jess.”

“You really think that’s it?” Jess asks.

She nods. “I really do. He helped you a lot. He was invested in your wellbeing. In your future. And he bribed you with all those stories to get you to go to class. Luke told me about that. It’s hard to lose that kind of support.”

“So…what do I do?” Jess asks. “How do I make these dreams stop?”

“I don’t know that you can,” Liz admits. “It sounds like he’s sticking around, because he feels like you still need his help. So maybe…let him know that you’re gonna be okay. That he did a good enough job and that you can manage without him. Because he helped teach you how to.”

“That sounds so stupid,” Jess tells her.

She laughs. “I know it does. But you know, I dreamt about my dad for a whole year after he passed away. And we would just have these fights. About nothing. About you. About Jimmy, and Luke and my mother and everything in my life. I decided to send you here in part because I started having those dreams again when you were in high school.”

“That also sounds stupid.”

“Drink your beer.”

*****

He dreams of an open field in the middle of nowhere, and Lenny is next to him. Younger than Jess has ever seen him, in documentaries, dreams or otherwise.

Painfully young. Maybe twenty.

“I worked here before the war,” Lenny explains. “This farm. I really liked it, but when I came back from the navy nobody really…” he shrugs. “They didn’t really want me here anymore. No one cared that I had come back.”

Jess stays quiet, watching the contemplative look on Lenny’s face.

“And that feeling…that absence of belonging didn’t really go away until I found Midge,” Lenny says quietly. “But I always liked it here. I always meant to take Midge to see it, but I guess things were too busy. Family and work and whatnot.”

“You should stay,” Jess tells him. “Hang out here for a while. See if it still fits.”

Lenny lifts an eyebrow at him.

“I’m okay,” Jess assures him. “I am.”

Lenny still says nothing.

“I’m okay, because you and Midge didn’t give up on me like everyone else had,” Jess admits. “My mom. The town. Even Luke almost gave up a couple of times, before I pulled it together. Lorelai from the second we met.”

Lenny huffs out a laugh. “You made quite the impression on her.”

Jess smirks. “But you and Midge, you always had my back. And I’m grateful. And I’m okay.”

Lenny nods, looking him over and patting his shoulder. “Okay, kid. If you’ve got it from here, then you’ve got it from here.”

“I got it from here,” Jess confirms, looking back out over the landscape.

“Hey,” Lenny says. “Don’t leave the Rory thing too long. She’ss gonna find somebody else if you do.”

Jess chuckles and shakes his head. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

When he wakes up, he wakes up crying.

*****

Luke and Lorelai come back to town the next day, and Jess makes sure the diner is running smoothly, and everything is just the way Luke left it. They work behind the counter together, while Lorelai and Rory chat at one of the tables, and Midge joins them when she walks in, giving Lorelai a welcome home kiss, and patting Rory’s hand as they talk.

“You okay?” Luke asks, lifting an eyebrow at him. “You seem kinda quiet today, even for you.”

Jess nods “I’m good. Actually, you mind if I take a break?”

Luke shrugs. “Go ahead.”

He grabs his jacket and heads for the door. He catches Rory’s eye and nods, and she grins, promising her mother she’ll return shortly before following him.

“Hey,” she says, catching up with him as he heads for the gazebo. “Everything okay?”

Jess nods. “Everything’s okay. I think the dreams are done.”

Rory gives him a sympathetic look. “That’s good. That means you’re moving on a little more.”

He takes a breath. “I just wanna say thank you for letting me lose my shit on you a little.”

She laughs softly. “It’s really okay. Maybe I’ll turn that into a book one day, too.”

“Some poor asshole getting haunted by the ghost of Lenny Bruce,” Jess jokes. “There are a lot of hipsters who would eat that up.”

“Well maybe you should write it,” Rory suggests.

He shrugs. “Seems too personal.” He takes a breath. “Maybe I can buy you dinner tomorrow night as a thank you for putting up with my insanity?”

Rory smiles. “I’d like that. Like old times.”

“I was hoping literally,” he admits. “Like a date.”

Her smile falls a little, and she looks surprised. “Wow. A date? Like a…a date-date?”

Jess shrugs. “I’m in a good place, you’re in a good place…I thought maybe…why the fuck not?”

Rory smiles again, obviously thinking that over. “Why the fuck not. Okay. It’s a date-date.”

He nods. “Good.”

Jess nudges her shoulder with his on his way past her, back to the diner, but she reaches out for his coat and stops him, pulling him back, and into a brief kiss.

He blinks at her when it ends. “What was that for?”

Rory just smiles and gives him a gentle shove before heading back to the diner.

Jess shakes his head and follows.

END

#fic #au #the Schneiders of Stars Hollow #Midge/Lenny #Midge x Lenny #Gilmore Girls #Jess Mariano #Rory Gilmore #Midge Maisel #Lenny Bruce #Literati #character death and grieving #mentions of drug use

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daddyhausen · 2 years

Note

Hi! I was wondering if you could write something for Trent. There isn’t a lot of stuff out for him.

of course love

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• a shoulder to cry on — trent beretta •

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ masterlist } | { aew masterlists } | { trent beretta masterlist }

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ warnings } — 18 + { minors do not interact } fem!reader, friends to lovers dynamic, mentions of alcohol/drinking, oral sex { female receiving }, female orgasm, squirting

{ word count } — 2.1k

{ genre } — smut

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ taglist } — @boutmachines @thewrestlingbitch @omg-im-such-a-masochist @thebestintheworld @chrisdickinson @cuzimacomedian @wardlow @sammiejane22 @april-jeanette-wagner

{ comment if you want to be added to the taglist }

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the room was alive with laughter, a warm fireplace crackling at your side, illuminating the room with such a lovely orange glow. and no, that was not because orange cassidy was seated beside you, the redhead lazily slumped back into the couch, sunglasses still perched upon his cheeks despite the sun having set hours ago. with a beer in hand, he and kris chatted amongst themselves quietly, their banter more subdued than the rest of you.

to your left, your brother, chuck. simply listening to whatever mildly slurred sentence left his friends lips, almost zoning out of the conversation entirely. you offered him a soft nudge to his ribs, bringing him back to reality when kris had suggested telling each other embarrassing stories to lighten up the mood a bit.

you peered up to meet the eyes of trent, who merely shrugged his shoulders at the alien girl’s proposition. a small gulp rose in your throat, one of which you quickly swallowed. his eyes stared into yours for a second, almost trapping you in pools of deep honeyed brown. you cleared your throat, quickly tearing your gaze from his, a rather fake enthusiasm forming in your voice, as three of them gathered to form a small circle, orange opted to remain in his position idly on the couch.

“hey chuckie” you quipped to your older brother, who’s gaze held a mixture of curiosity and worry, contorting his features, unaware of the embarrassing story you were about to spill in font of his friends. “remember that one time in high school where you went to ask your crush out and you got so nervous that you puked on her shoes?”

in reaction to your words, kris spat out her beer in a fit of hysterical laughter, leaning into the shoulder of orange, who two cracked a small smile at the statement. you peered upward again, nothing a toothy grin peering past trent’s lips. a sight that never failed to make your heart swell. you must admit your brother’s best friend had always been a sight to behold, his frame was strong and his embrace was warm, you could not help but picture yourself engulfed in his arms every night, simply revelling in the warmth of his skin.

“it wasn’t my proudest moment…” your brother muttered under his breath, a heat flushed to his cheeks, burning red with embarrassment. “hey, y/n”

you turned to face your brother as soon as the laughter died down, expecting him to retort with one of the many embarrassing stories from your childhood that you’d much rather forget. you waiting in anticipation for him to reply, the other’s leaned in, waiting intently for your brother’s words.

“remember that time you got blind drunk and called me up crying about how in love you are with trent?”

you froze in place, staring daggers into your brother. the room went silent, far too silent for your liking, kris had placed her beer on the table, a hand rose to her mouth in shock. you peered at trent with teary eyes, noticing that he too was avoiding your gaze. you understood that embarrassment was the whole premise of the game, but this was beyond that. you were mortified. you hated your brother at this moment, wanting nothing more than to punch his teeth in but you refrained. instead getting up silently, storming to your room, hot tears gracing your cheeks, yet no sobs left your lips until you were within the safety and comfort of your bedroom.

the four of them sat in silence for a moment. kris, breaking the tension by slapping chuck across the arm rather harshly, to which your brother reacted with a wince.

“what the fuck did you say that?” kris remarked, fury crossing the alien girl’s lips.

“c’mon it was just a game-”

“dude, not cool” orange cut off your brother’s retort with the same monotone he carried through every conversation, taking another swig of his beer, almost seeming unfazed, on the inside he was fuming. amongst their bickering, trent stood up with a sigh, following you to your room. his lips pursed as he stood before your locked door, debating whether or not to knock. in the end he chose the latter.

a soft knock rang throughout your bedroom, one of which made you bury your head into the pillows deeper. you did not want to face anyone right now. not your brother, especially not trent. you tried to fixate on any other sound but the knocking, your mind had other plans, the knocking was all you heard, taunting you like thoughts you could not seem to quell.

“go away chuck…” you muttered into your pillow, voice hoarse cracking slightly with your words. trent’s heart broke, hearing the choked sobs form in your throat as you spoke.

“it’s not chuck…” trent’s voice flooded your ears. your head perked up slightly. the familiar heat rising to your cheeks, still embarrassed by the whole ordeal. a part of you tried your best to ignore him, a part of you you hated. yet, you knew he was persistent.

to spare yourself some of the silent torment of him waiting outside, you slowly sat up, hesitant, practically dragging your body towards your locked bedroom door, secretly hoping it was all a ruse created by your mind and he was not actually waiting, oh boy was your mind wrong this time.

you unlocked your door, staring blankly down at his feet in a desperate attempt to avoid his gaze, rather fixating on the colour of his shoelaces than that of his eyes. you stepped aside, letting him pass through, he entered, albeit hesitantly. you quickly made your way back to your bed, burying your head into the pillows once more, trying to not let him see you in your current state.

he took a seat at the edge of your bed, simply basking in the uncomfortable silence that clouded the room. It wasn't any embarrassment on his part per day, more or less he did not want to say anything that would only worsen the situation. he gave a soft exhale, pursing his lips into a thin line contemplating his words before he spoke

“for what it’s worth…” he began, halting his words for a second, as he placed a delicate hand upon your shoulder. “i’m in love with you, too”

your words caught in your throat, choked sobs collected with each breath you took, you had half hoped that this was not something your brother had put him up to do as a sorry excuse of an apology. you sat up, a futile attempt to dry the tears that spilled down your heated cheeks, still avoiding his eyes.

“don’t just say that to make me feel better-“

“i’m not…” he interrupted, albeit unintentionally. “i really am in love with you…i have been ever since the day chuck introduced us both”

you sat there stunned for a moment, small sniffles rang throughout the room, amongst the silence. for the first time since your confession spilled, you were able to look him in the eye, warm browns staring into your soul with such hope as you allowed yourself to be closer to him in that moment.

“prove it…” your whispered, almost under your breath, trent craned your head to face him, his fingers under your chin tilting your head up to meet his gaze, his lips so close, so needy for yours.

“oh sweetheart, i will” the simple use of a pet name was all it took for you to completely disregard the past twenty minutes or so. his hands fell to your hips, slowly guiding you on top of his lap. his lips were hesitant, yet so desperate for yours, leaning in slowly until they met. as cliché as it sounded, sparks flew around your, fireworks erupting you chest as his touch became more needy, more protective, lightly clawing at your clothing.

“need to make you feel good…” he muttered against your lips, fingers lightly dancing across the exposed skin of your forearms, with such want and need for your touch. your eyes peered to your door for a moment silently thanking him for locking the door once he had entered. you responded with a soft hum against his lips, hands resting upon the waistband of his sweatpants.

his movements were feverish after the fact, wanting nothing more than to completely ruin you, to prove to you his love. still, he was going to do all that in due time, for now, he needed to make you feel good, needed to make you feel loved. his body hovered over you, his muscular frame completely engulfing yours in his shadow. two fingers hooked into the belt loops of your jeans, pulling them down with a swift tug, your panties soon followed.

you became shy under his gaze, your lower half now exposed to his stare. in a feeble attempt to cover your modesty, you tried to clench your thighs together, only for him to pry them apart, a hand on each knee, staring you down hungrily.

“don’t be shy, sweetheart. i wanna taste you” his words made your stomach whirl with excitement as he took his position between your legs, head nestled comfortably between his thighs. your head flicked to your door for the final time, still able to hear the bickering of mainly your brother and kris through the thin walls. “don’t worry, they won’t hear us”

his reassurance was key in helping you settle in. laying back against the headboard, with his head between your thighs, it was pure bliss and he had not even begun. he gave one last glance in your direction, licking a hot stripe up against your already dripping cunt, all while maintaining eye contact. once he got a taste, it was game over for you. his hands held a death grip on your hips, holding them down into the mattress as he devoured you, so much so that you had to wrap your hand around your mouth just to silence yourself.

he moaned into you, tongue lapping up your sweetness, swirling circles around your sensitive pearl, enough to make your thighs shudder with such delight. you tried to reach for him, tried to outstretch your arms in a desperate attempt to pry his tongue from between your thighs. as much as you adored the sight, you wanted, no! needed to feel him, even if it means sacrificing your own release. before you could protest, he grabbed your wrists, securing them by your sides, his tongue parting with your dripping folds momentarily.

“you’ll get my cock soon enough, baby” he remarked with a smirk, trailing soft kisses up your inner thigh. “you gotta cum on my tongue first”

he wasted no time diving back between your thighs, his tongue more vicious than the last. you felt your thighs begin to tremble, stomach tied in knots with such a delicious orgasm rising to the surface. sweet moans elft your lips, flooding the air around the both of you, hips bucking up to meet the movements of his tongue. a small “fuck” emitted from your lips as the sensation only grew.

with his hands still firmly wrapped around your wrists, his tongue drawing out your orgasm little by little, you body shuddering with such delight. you peered down at him, eyes teary filled with a silent plea for release, he obliged, inhaling deeply, devouring your sweet void, with pitched moans and breathless gasps, your orgasm flooded your veins, sweet warmth gushing over his tongue. he drank you in, savouring your taste on his taste buds, lips prying themselves from your clit, a small whine leaving your lips at the lack of contact.

he sat up between your thighs, bulge evident in his sweatpants. he freed his cock with a soft sight, thick shaft resting idly in his palm for a moment, he leaned over you, another sweet kiss placed to your lips, this one more gentle, more reserved than the last. the tip of his cock teasing your entrance, your folds dripping with such want.

your bodies almost became one in that moment, much to your disappointment a shock, impatient knocks rang through your bedroom, a voice soon followed.

“you two better not be fucking in there!” kris’ voice flooded your ears, the alien girl as persistent as ever, fists still pounding at your bedroom door. a soft gasp left your lips at the sound of her voice. trent’s rested his forehead against yours, a small sigh and a chuckle following.

“guess we’ll have to continue this another night, sweetheart”

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#{ my fics : 🤍 }#trent?#trent beretta #trent beretta imagine #trent beretta smut #aew #wrestling smut #wrestling imagine #aew wrestling #aew fanfiction #aew imagine

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dunkzillla · 2 years

Text

New Tricks for an Old Dog (1/?)

William Regal x Wheeler Yuta, Chuck Taylor x Wheeler Yuta

A little later than I was hoping, but @slapofhonor asked for Chuck/Yuta, and @di0brando asked for Regal/Yuta, and I knew I could (somewhat, I hope) deliver with this. Updates will be sporadic but I hope you enjoy regardless!

Title: New Tricks for an Old Dog

Pairings: Wheeler Yuta/William Regal, Wheeler Yuta/Chuck Taylor

Rating/Warnings: Explicit — Sexual Content, Language, mentions of Disordered Eating.

Word Count: 4553

Summary: Barista by day, sex worker by night, Wheeler Yuta is burning the candle at both ends trying to make ends meet. Businessman and Lord by day, lonely old man by night, William Regal desperately searches for something to make him feel alive.

“Fuck sake Trent you prick! I told you to go around the back!”

Wheeler’s eyes flutter open, woken by the loud shouting, and fall on the old, blinking alarm clock on the bedside table. Four thirty am.

Wheeler sighs. He could spend the next half an hour laying here in bed listening to Chuck yell at Trent and Orange over Fortnite or he could get up and have hot lemon water and a few wheat thins while sitting next to his boyfriend before heading off to work. He throws the thin covers off himself and grabs Chuck’s sweats and hoodie from the floor and slips them on. They’re far too big, Chuck’s much bigger than him, stockier, taller, but they make him feel warm and safe and they smell like him.

“Piece of shit can you not just listen to me for one second?” Chuck yells again, and when Wheeler steps into the living room he can hear the sounds of gunfire on the screen, the tap tap tap of Chuck’s thumbs on his controller. He must hear Wheeler step into the room, because he turns and looks up at him, sheepish. “Shit, sorry babe, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Wheeler stands behind him on the couch and presses a kiss to his cheek. “Don’t worry, needed to get up for work anyway. You want breakfast?”

“No thanks babe, I had toast when I got up.” He says, turning his face so he can kiss Wheeler, chaste and quick before turning back to his game.

Wheeler sighs a little. He doesn’t know how Chuck can spend so long staring at the screen, playing the same game day in day out. He barely sleeps, less than Wheeler does with two jobs, moving only to use the bathroom and shower, make himself microwave pizzas and burgers if Wheeler’s not there to do it for him. Which, he isn’t a lot of the time because of his two jobs.

Times have been hard for them since they moved out into their new place. Chuck lost his job a few months after they signed the lease, and then decided that instead of getting another job, he was going to focus on his video game career. The trouble is, there really is no video game career, Chuck’s simply not good enough to be a professional gamer, nor does he have the money to spend on the kind of equipment that professional gamers have which allow them to easily win tournaments and spend all of their days gaming. So Chuck spends all day ‘practicing’ and then enters tournaments on the weekends, coming so far down leaderboards that he doesn’t even make any money. He’s unemployed, playing video games all day, while Wheeler works two jobs to try and pull them both out of the mountain of debt they’re buried under.

Wheeler works at Starbucks during the day, making just above minimum wage and whatever meger tips get put in the jar, and by night, Wheeler walks the streets and sells his body to men that drive by.

He never intended to become a sex worker. He never intended to get into strange cars with strange men and let them do what they wanted with him for fifty to a hundred bucks, but he met Daniel Garcia in a YMCA queue waiting for free condoms and heard all about the little spot where he and a few others go to make a little extra money. Wheeler had been in debt enough to know that his paycheck this month wasn’t going to cover all of the bills, so he’d gone down that night — telling Chuck he was going to do a trial shift at a gas station — and worked the street with Daniel. He gave out four blowjobs, one hand job, and got fucked by a man twice his age. He made three hundred and fifty dollars in four hours, more than he makes in a week at Starbucks.

He’d felt sick when he got home, seeing Chuck curled up on the couch, waiting for him to get home. But they needed the money, Chuck’s gaming skyrocketed the electricity bill and with only him making any money, he needed more than just a minimum wage job or two to keep the roof over their head and a bit of food on the table. So Wheeler set his guilt aside and went out the next night too, making even more than he did the first time, and went out the night after that and the night after that, and he hasn’t stopped since. He misses a couple of nights here and there, Wednesdays are the slowest days and sometimes it’s hardly worth standing out waiting for someone to drive by, and on Chuck’s birthday, he doesn’t go then. But every other night Wheeler stands with Daniel and waits for men to pull up so he can say, “You looking for something hot stuff?”, before getting into their car.

But even with the sex work, Wheeler doesn’t make enough for them to live comfortably. He doesn’t always get great hours at Starbucks, reducing the amount he earns, and when it rains, Johns don’t want to pick up soggy and damp sex workers. So he goes without a lot, the groceries he buys tend to be things that can go in the cupboard or freezer, non perishables, and even then he lets Chuck eat most of them, microwave pizzas, microwave burgers and hot dogs, pizza pockets and bags of chips, he’s bigger than Wheeler and needs more, and he gets to eat the leftover pastries and sandwiches at work, so he doesn’t mind. His shoes are falling apart, and he wears the same cycle of clothes so that he can keep a good few pairs of jeans and shirts for special occasions. Not that there are many of them, these days.

Daniel gave him some stuff to work the street with. Told him that men, particularly the ones that frequent their street, like them in skirts and sparkly tops. He went to Goodwill and found himself a second set of clothes, and he alternates them every night, wearing one sparkly top with one skirt, swapping it the next. He’s got a trusty pair of knee high boots with a chunky heel that keeps his feet warm when it’s cold.

Chuck still doesn’t know what he does at night. He told him he got the job at the gas station and works nights. When he gets home, usually around three in the morning, later if it’s a good night, he’s already changed out of his skirt and boots in Daniel’s car and he wears one of Chuck’s hoodies everywhere to mask any leftover scent of another man’s cologne.

Wheeler makes himself a mug of hot water with a squeeze of bottled lemon juice in and roots in the cupboard for his wheat thins and takes out two, holding them in his palm and going over to sit next to Chuck on the couch. He leans against his arm and sips on his water, nibbles on his cracker and watches Chuck and his friends get absolutely decimated by teens at Fortnite.

“You got work tonight baby?” Chuck asks when the game ends and the loading screen flickers.

Guilt gnaws at Wheeler’s belly like hunger does, and he swallows down the dry cracker as he nods. “Mhm. Not sure what time I’ll finish, depends if Jade can get a babysitter to come in the middle of the night.”

Jade Cargill isn’t exactly a made up person, she’s the wonderful woman who gives him his free condoms at the YMCA and helps him sort out his sexual health check ups, she just isn’t his colleague at the gas station like he’s told Chuck.

“Remember to eat, yeah?”

“I’ll have something at work. And gas station snacks.” That’s not completely a lie, either. He does get food on his break at Starbucks, and gas station snacks are the chips he and Danny share when there’s a quiet hour and no Johns.

Chuck puts an arm around his shoulder and pulls him in to kiss his temple, “Make sure you do. You work too hard, my little Yuta bear.”

A little bitterly, Wheeler thinks ‘and who’s fault is that?’, but it’s unfair, really, because he hasn’t asked Chuck to get a job, he’s letting him live out his dream for as long as he can until he realises it’s not going anywhere. When he does, Chuck will get a new job and there’ll be two incomes and things will settle down again. Wheeler can stop working the streets and he’ll be able to make a proper dinner for the two of them.

“I have to get ready, kick their asses babe.” He murmurs softly, finishing off his water and licking the crumbs of the crackers from the palm.

“Don’t I always?” Chuck says like it’s true, and Wheeler just laughs as he makes his way into the bathroom and jumps into the shower. He’s in and out, using as little hot water as he can but making sure he’s clean, brushes his teeth by scraping out the toothpaste tube, refusing to buy another one until there isn’t even a drop left in this one.

He comes back out into the living room wearing his beige chinos and black Starbucks shirt and Chuck wolf whistles at him like he does every morning.

“Boy do I love me a man in uniform.” He grins, and the screen is loading again, so it’s not really a surprise when he leans over the side of the couch and tugs Wheeler in by his belt loops, pulling him onto his lap.

“Chuckie, I gotta go to work.” Wheeler says quietly, but he’s smiling, warmth spreading through him with the way Chuck looks at him, hands sliding over his body and down to rest on his ass.

“I know I know, just wanna give my boy a little goodbye kiss.” He says, and he tips his face up until Wheeler takes pity on him and leans down to kiss him.

Chuck's kisses light him up from the inside, the way his big arms feel wrapped around his small waist, the way he dominates his mouth with his tongue.

“Chuckie I mean it, I gotta go or I’ll be late.” Wheeler breathes out as Chuck deepens the kiss, grinding up into him like he’s trying to start something.

“You know I can make it super quick, baby.”

Wheeler huffs out a laugh, and manages to de-tangle himself from Chuck’s grasp. “Later babe, promise. But I can’t be late.”

Chuck lets out a long, sexually frustrated sigh. “You prance around in those tight little trousers and expect me not to do anything.” He whines like a teenager, and Wheeler rolls his eyes, kissing his cheek.

“I love you, see you later.”

“Love you too baby, have a good day.”

Wheeler heads out, tucking his hands into his hoodie pockets as he gets out into the cold fall air.

He works a ten hour shift, thankful for it despite his aching feet because it’s way better than the five hour shifts he was getting offered last week, and gets home at five, eleven hours after he left the apartment this morning.

Chuck is in the exact same position as he was when Wheeler left at six am, except the apartments got a bit messier. There’s an empty cup noodles pot tipped over onto the coffee table, leaking the last of the sauce out after being toppled over by the weight of the fork.

“Hey baby, good day?”

Wheeler dumps his things by the couch and drops onto it, his aching, throbbing feet finally getting the weight off them. He can feel the hole in his shoe having gotten bigger. No matter how much money he makes tonight, he’s going to have to use a little of it to get him a new pair from Goodwill. Well. A newish pair.

“As good as anyone can have with entitled middle class people screaming at you for having made their coffee too hot or too cold,” He says, watching the tv screen show Chuck’s character ducking behind doors trying not to get shot. “What about yours?”

“Got accepted into a mini tournament today, won two hundred dollars.”

Wheeler sits up a little, he can see the pride on Chuck’s face, his little flushed cheeks and patchy stubble. “Baby that’s amazing, well done.” Wheeler says, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Just a little more practice and I’ll be getting those big cash prizes in the big leagues.”

Chuck says it with such reverence, such confidence, that Wheeler really wants to believe him. He really does, it’s just, he knows that no matter how much Chuck practices, he’s never going to be as good as those guys in the professional leagues. Chucks been jobless for months now, almost a full year, and he doesn’t seem any better than he was when he started. Wheeler doesn’t know how much more their landlord will forgive when it comes to late and not the full amount rent payments.

“Yeah Chuckie, just a little more,” He smiles softly, lying too easily to him these days. “I’m gonna’ go for a nap before work, I’ll see you in a little bit.” He says, giving him a quick kiss before dragging his already exhausted body into the bedroom and flopping down onto the bed, not even bothering to change out of his Starbucks uniform.

He sleeps for a couple of hours, waking up feeling less exhausted but not at all rested, before getting up and taking another quick shower. Wheeler’s just got time for a quick lemon water once he’s put on some clothes and brushes his hair before he hears Daniel’s car horn blasting from outside.

“See you later on babe, make sure you get some sleep.” He calls to Chuck as he makes his way out of the apartment, leaving him in the same place for the second time in one day, and knowing that he’ll return later, at about four am, to find him exactly where he left him. Chuck’s “I will, I love you.” back to him gets lost in the sound of the door closing behind him and his feet pattering down the stairs towards Daniel’s car outside.

It’s a rusty old heap of junk, but Wheeler’s thankful that Daniel has it, because it gets them too and from the street they work when it’s cold and raining, keeps their belongings safe, and gives Yuta a place to change into his skirt and boots that are tucked into his bag.

“Took your time, Yoots.” Daniel grumbles when he gets in, but there’s no heat to it.

“I overslept a little, long day at work.”

“Has—“

“No, Chuck still doesn’t have a job. You don’t need to ask every time.”

“I was going to say did he win any tournaments, actually.”

Wheeler rolls his eyes and shakes his head, “No you weren’t. And yeah, he did, actually, two hundred dollars.” He says as he shimmies into his skirt. It’s a short little black thing, with the sides cut out but pulled together with a silver string detail. It’s not the type of skirt you wear underwear with, so he doesn’t.

“Wow, that’s really going to put a dent in the thousands of dollars of rent arrears you’re in.” Daniel says, one arm slung out of the window and the other one on the wheel. It’s not that far to the street they frequent, so Wheeler works himself quickly into the halter neck silver top, and slides on his boots. Daniel’s already dressed, though they both always put on their shimmery lipstick together.

“Every little bit helps, Danny.” Wheeler says, taking the lipstick from Daniel and applying it to his lips. Daniel looks at him sympathetically but doesn’t say anything else, just gets out of the car and adjusts his purple mini dress.

It’s a slow kind of night to start with, they only get a couple of cars swing through, Hook across the street taking one of them, Daniel taking another, and then one of them asking for both him and Daniel, which, isn’t entirely unusual, though it does make for a very cramped double-team blowjob in the back of the Johns Ford Mondeo.

It’s around midnight when the black Rolls Royce turns the corner. It drives by once, then comes around again.

“What the fuck is a Rolls doing around here?” Wheeler says, and Daniel’s already hiking his dress up a little further and looking down at himself to make sure he looks okay.

“Hey, no, this one’s mine. You’ve already got Bryan in the Mercedes.” Wheeler whines, stepping away from Daniel a little, like he’ll be able to sprint to the flashy car and get there first. He won’t, he’d die in these heels doing that.

“I recognise the plate, he knows Bryan.”

“So I should take him! Bryan will get jealous.”

“Wheeler—“

“Please? You can take him next time if he comes around again. I need this.”

Daniel actually smiles at him, one of those ‘you’re something else but I love you,’ smiles and steps back to lean against the wall. “Go on then, don’t keep him waiting.” He says.

“Thank you!” Wheeler says quietly, before turning and heading over to the Rolls, the window sliding down the closer Wheeler gets.

“Looking for some fun, hot stuff?” He says in his softest, sweetest voice.

“Most certainly with you, pet. Jump in.”

The man is British, and for once he’s actually good looking. He’s older, Wheeler thinks maybe he’s in his fifties, with mousy hair striped white and gray in some places, a soft face with smile lines and crow's feet. He’s rakishly handsome, and Wheeler finds himself on the verge of aroused as the man drives them a little further down the street to park up.

“What’s your name petal?” He asks when they park up.

“Yuta, sir.” Wheeler says. He’s always used his last name, it’s personal enough that he can connect, not intimate enough that it feels too close to home.

The man smiles when he says sir, and a rough hand settles on Wheeler’s thigh, stroking the smooth, bare skin. “One with many friends,” He hums softly. “What a beautiful name for a beautiful flower such as yourself.” He says. The words make Wheeler blush, which doesn't happen when he’s with Johns. He feels hot all over, the way this man is looking at him is doing something to him, the way his accent settles in his ears and over his skin. It’s nothing like he’s ever experienced before.

“My name is William Regal, but you can keep calling me sir, if you’d like, it sounds so wonderful coming from that pretty mouth.” He says, squeezing at Wheeler’s thigh again, inching just a little higher, his pinky finger dipping under the hem of the skirt. Wheeler can feel himself getting hard under his skirt. It usually doesn’t happen this quickly, only when he’s touched himself on the build up to getting fucked or on the rare occasion that John’s want to go down on him. This time though, he’s got arousal shooting all over his body and he’s barely been touched.

Wheeler spreads his legs invitingly, biting his lip and tugging his skirt just a little higher. “How would you like me, sir? Oral is—“

“Don’t fret yourself with your rates, petal, I’ve more than enough money that I don’t need to know. Why don’t you come take a seat here? I’d like to get a closer look at that pretty face.” Regal taps his lap, and Wheeler feels a little thrill run through him as he climbs over the centre console of the car to slip into the man’s lap.

“There you go, look at you. Pretty little flower. Bryan told me you were.”

“You came here looking for me?” The thought makes Wheeler shiver, though he's not sure whether it’s good or bad.

“I guess you could say I did, petal. Bryan uses Master Garcia’s services, and he told me that he had a friend who was simply wonderful. I thought I would come see for myself.”

Wheeler can’t help but preen at that, there’s something about a man, someone clearly well off and important, being told about little old Wheeler, standing on a street corner waiting for Johns to pay him for sex and coming to see him. Because he was told he was pretty. Wheeler knows he’s been doing this too long, that he thinks that’s a good thing.

“Do I live up to your expectations, sir?” He purrs.

Regal lifts a hand and runs it down the seam of his top, fingertips just barely touching his skin. “I think you might just be the prettiest thing I have ever seen, little Yuta. But I think I’m going to have to see a little more, just to be sure.”

Wheeler shifts in his lap, and he can feel the man hardening underneath him. And because this man is clearly well off, Wheeler decides to push his luck, just a little. “Taking my clothes off costs you extra.” He grins with a cheeky look in his eye. And it’s true, really, Wheeler doesn’t take his clothes off very often. It’s more intimate than he’d normally like, but he’ll do it on occasions.

Regal reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet. It’s thick, bills are stuffed into the pocket and the little slits are all occupied with cards. He pulls one out, turns it in his long fingers a few times, before sliding it right into Wheeler’s mouth, like he’s about to draw money from an ATM.

“7381. Take. Them. Off.”

Wheeler shivers, slipping out of his slinky little top and dropping it into the footwell of the car. He takes the card out of his mouth and looks at it. It’s a Black American Express card. Wheeler knows that they only give these out to people who spend a certain amount of money. An obscene amount of money. And this man just gave him his card, with the PIN number. Just to take his clothes off. He puts the card on the empty seat, and he pulls his skirt above his hips and up his chest and off, he’s lost enough weight lately that it slides right off. Wheeler drops the skirt with the top into the footwell, leaving him naked in Regal’s slap, wearing only his boots.

“Oh pet, you really are the prettiest thing I have ever seen.” Regal says, fingers moving across Wheeler’s skin, making goosebumps erupt all over his arms.

William Regal fucks him in the car just like that. He pushes his chair back, kisses Wheeler as he stretches him open with his fingers, using his own, premium brand lube and condoms rather than the shitty, cheap brand Wheeler gets for free from the YMCA. Regal kisses across his chest as Wheeler rides him likes he’s never ridden a John before, using the back of the chair as leverage to fuck himself down, letting Regal’s fingers press bruises into his hips. He comes harder than he has for a long time, even with Chuck, crying out until his throat is sore as the orgasm rips through him.

They’re both a panting mess by the end of it, the car windows steamed up and Wheeler’s skin sweaty and balmy as Regal continues to run his hands all over him, like he can’t get enough of him. Truth be told, Wheeler doesn’t know if he can get enough of William Regal, either. His cock is long and thick inside of him, his hands rough and skilled, his mouth sweet and addictive.

When they’ve caught their breath, Wheeler reaches back and plucks his top and skirt from the floor, shifts out of Regal’s lap and into the passenger chair again so he can redress. His thighs are sticky with lube, and his lipstick is nearly all gone. He’s going to have to clean himself up in Daniel’s car.

“I trust this should cover our hour of fun, petal?” Regal says, handing him the thickest wad of notes Wheeler has ever seen.

“Sir, that is far too much.”

“Not at all. You’re beautiful, and you are more than wonderful company. Take it, flower.”

Wheeler’s not even sure how much is there, but the stack is topped with crisp one hundred dollar bills, so he knows it’s way more than he charges for intercourse usually. He doesn’t argue anymore, because he does need the money, and if this man is generous enough to tip really well, then who is he to question him? He does, however, pick up the black AMEX card and hold it out to him.

“Take it, petal. 7381.” Regal says, reminding him of the PIN code. Wheeler stares at him, mouth agape.

“Sir, I couldn’t possibly—“

“Oh hush, darling. You think I don’t know someone down on their luck? Not many do this line of work for fun, and I would like to help.”

“I still can’t accept—“

“Yes you can. In fact, I’m asking you, as part of your services, to take my card with you. I know you probably don’t have a set charge for that kind of thing but, you can just charge it to the card at a later date, hm?” Regal smiles, and he takes Wheeler’s hand, kissing his knuckles before pushing his hand with the card in away from him.

“Thank you, sir.”

“No, thank you, petal. Will I see you around here again?”

Wheeler nods, slipping the money and credit card into his little bag. “I’m here every night, excerpt for Wednesdays.”

“Prior engagements?” Regal muses with a smile.

“Slow day, not much fun in standing around waiting for nothing.”

Regal hums, “I suppose you're right, flower. I will be back on a day that is not a Wednesday.” He says.

Wheeler smiles, and for the first time, he feels happy and excited about a John returning. He’s never really had a bad experience with one, some can be rude and a little rough, but he’s never had to call for help or been hurt by someone. Though that doesn’t mean that he actively wants any of them to come back, that he’s excited when they do. They’re just random men, faceless, money makers. William Regal feels different.

“I’ll look forward to it, sir.” He says, and he leans over, pressing a kiss to his cheek and surprising them both as he does so, before he slips out of the car, feeling an ache between his legs.

“Goodnight, little Yuta.” Regal says, the window sliding down once again. Wheeler turns to look over his shoulder as he starts to cross the road to walk back to the street corner.

“Goodnight Mr Regal.”

#wheeler yuta x william regal #wheeler yuta x chuck taylor #wheeler yuta #william regal #regal #chuck taylor #daniel garcia #bryan danielson x daniel garcia #writing #soooo I wasn’t supposed to start something new and chaptered but this little plot bunny just. it got away from me #and when slap and kenzie asked for the respective pairings I just had tooooo!!!#had to give the people what they want #my beloveds I hope you enjoy

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