Normal Fighting Novels & Stories

"Everyone! Everyone negotiates like that! People who wash a mug for three minutes because they can't say their ex’s name don't get to lecture ME on saying things sideways!" Silence. The real kind. My pulse has completely abandoned subtlety. And this, right here, is where one of us usually grabs the other and the fight turns into the fun kind, horizontal, and every cell I own is voting for it, screaming for it, his mouth is RIGHT THERE. Flushed. Breathing hard. Furious looks like foreplay on him, and my hands already know the exact sequence required. Grab a fistful of shirt, spin him around and pin him to the counter.

“Isn’t it normal for wars to last even longer?” But Garland slowly shook his head. “That’s normal for ordinary packs,” he muttered while staring at me. “But strange for the Northern Pack because their battles usually end within days.” The moment those words dropped, the sound of people sucking in cold breath echoed around the ground. Even though I didn’t react as exaggeratedly as the others, my heart still felt shaken. The night suddenly became quieter. Too quiet. Seconds passed…Then another minute. Finally— “They’re strong,” I muttered slowly. “Very strong.”

There is a visible gag that has nothing to do with mixing alcohol and ice cream. The gut check response only comes with is knee pushing between the tailored clad thighs, she’s trying to press closed from him. Which is more or less the point where I lose it. Hooking his elbow with mine. Not only removing the threatening hand aimed at ‘Ana’s’ face, but also flattening him. Putting my knee in the back of his knocks out his legs, at the same time my upper body swings in the opposite direction. Fighting really isn’t about strength or power. It’s about endurance and speed.

“Is that even normal?” “Yes” “They are fighting” “That is what you see but that is not what we see, we don't think that they are fighting, they are using their body and mind to train” “I thought that it had to do with training with dummies and not humans, they are hurting each other, they are just teenagers and that can lead to bullying” “He is right when I went to school here with my brother, we didn't fight ourselves but we fought others, dummies, and in some situations against other schools”

"Fight doesn't have to be physical all the time. He could be married, he could have kids, he oculd be the only breadwinner of his family. Would you like it if someone beat your siblings almost to death just for being rude? You think it would be fair?" The shift in Nate's expression told her everything. "The same rule applies to him. A formal complaint would have sufficed," she explained to him. It wasn't the first time he had this nasty habit of getting physical with people for reasons as small as looking her way. She understood he was trained to fight, and it wasn't a big deal for him. But for people like her, it was a matter of great embarrassment. She would have died of embarrassment rath

Her nose dropped a trickle of blood and I saw that she had some pathetic scratches from me on her arms. We look at each other with hatred. As if we were mortal enemies. We were facing each other in the same position and ready to fight again. Nathan's annoying voice stopped us. "Are you finished behaving like rabid bitches?" — We looked at him, he was sitting and crossed his arms very calmly. I noticed that we were the center of attention in the gym — That was not a fight, it was pure violence, they fought like two street animals.

Samuel already had everything prepared when they arrived and gave Nathan a full body examination. While waiting, Hilda paced back and forth anxiously as tears kept streaming down her face. It wasn't until the examination ended and Samuel came over with a thick report to tell her that Nathan only had external injuries did she feel reassured. Nathan, on the other hand, didn't think it was a big deal. He wasn't delicate and spoiled. Instead, he fought a lot. When he was young, he often fought with people of the same age on campus. Later on when he was a soldier, he fought in the army, and after he retired from the army, he didn't stop fighting either. He trained to ensure his body remained fit.

Nicholas stepped forward as a makeshift referee. “Standard sparring rules,” he announced. “First to pin the other wins. No bloodshed. And no shifting.” Nora tossed her ponytail over her shoulder. “Not that she’d be able to, anyway.” The onlookers murmured amongst themselves, and Nora’s words cut deeper than I wanted to admit. But I kept my chin lifted, just trying to focus on the fight. She was just trying to throw me off because she knew she couldn’t match me with her strength alone.

Because there are fighters who need to be protected physically—and others who need protection from themselves. In his room, Lennox unpacked slowly, almost mechanically. There was no rush in his movements, no obsessive discipline. Just... the routine that follows tension. When someone knows: if they keep moving, maybe everything they've been carrying on their shoulders won't come crashing down. His phone vibrated. Unknown number. He set it down, silenced it. Not yet. Not now.

Walking over to the man in front of him, he shook his head. "I've heard of you, man. I know you're tough, but we are just a little crazier," Dad stood there looking at him. I knew that he was sizing him up, looking at his arms and legs, then at weak points. When he was done, he spoke, "Well, just don't talk about it, be about it." The ref got in the middle of them, so they had to let go of their hands. He started talking, "Alright guys, you know the drill. Ten minutes of fighting and then after that ten minutes, you will shift and start again. Are we ready?" He raised his hands up, slamming them down. He hurried away so he wouldn't be in the middle of the fight.