#been tracking my steps more but i hate hauling my phone around for every little like. trip to the bathroom.

[kennexara]

i'm beginning to suspect i'm the only person who wants the bigger wristband BUT smaller watchface for a smartwatch. i've been looking and it seems like that combo is either really rare OR extremely popular and thus sold out.

[datawyrms]

snap

It is The Day I post my Invisobang fic! it was a wild ride to write everything and not post. This is actually the second fic I did, as the first fell into my pit of ‘i hate it now’ and will sit in limbo for the rest of eternity. I teamed up with Spirit ( @ghostportals ), who has done some accompanying art! That, and Red @redead-red saved my bacon by doing some betaing last moment, so tell em they’re great too. Hope you’re all enjoying the flood of finished fics and art this week! Only the first chapter is here, the rest is posted on my Ao3 and complete. hope you enjoy!

One careless fall changed Danny's life forever. He was kind of hoping one fall like that was enough for any lifetime. Clearly fate disagreed.

It's fine though! He's got this. He's fine. He can totally explain why he ran off with his own body to mom and dad.

The stairs had always been a little too steep, a titch too narrow, but he was used to them. Jazz worried too much- the whole Fenton family knew how to take them two steps at a time. He wasn’t going to admit she might have a point just because he’d slipped one time. He wished there was a railing to catch himself with- it would have spared him some of the pain of his head knocking on the stair.

It didn’t hurt that much. Plenty of ghosts hit harder, and far more frequently.

“Took a bit of a spill eh, Danno?”

Great, dad saw him slip like he was three again. He wanted to speak, wave his behemoth of a father off before he got tangled up in some long lecture about whatever they were working on down here. Just had to sit up.

He was a little stunned or something. All those late nights made his limbs rebel when he wanted them to hurry up. Come on, before he tries to help and accidentally shaves his hair off with some anti-ghost stepladder or something.

His arms stubbornly rejected his internal horror story. His attempt to say ‘I’m fine’ was more a gurgle than anything. Way to go, Fenton. Do everything to get dad to worry! Really using those genius genes. Jazz probably stole his anyway, or they got fried in the accident. Come on! A bit of self berating should have him sitting bolt upright by now. Maybe his arm twitched. He felt something move, anyway. More like a muscle spasm.

“Danny? You okay?” The large man came closer, his usual jog slowed.

Of course he’s fine. He could see dad, sort of. He totally moved his eyes to see him better, even. Stupid ghost powers were just acting up.  It’s okay,  just give me a second to stand up. You’re worrying over nothing.

 Jack had already made it over, crouching to get a better look at his fallen son. Like he was trying to look smaller or something with how carefully he was moving. Where was all that slow, ginger movement when he was driving? Or trying to tell them about some new invention that might burn off your eyebrows?

 I’m fine, dad. He couldn’t get the words to come out, but he was just fine. He really didn’t like the strange look on his father’s face. After all, ‘Jack Fenton doesn’t know the meaning of the word fear’ or whatever random thing he felt like shouting when chasing after entities from another dimension. Come on dad, stop looking like that. It was creeping him out. Moving should be easy, a snap, but part of him didn’t feel like doing it. Apparently an important part? He could visualize exactly what to do, but he wasn’t sitting up. He swore he could feel his muscles clenching but not finishing the movement. Maybe they were testing something down here that just made all the ectoplasm hiding inside him take a nap. His ectoplasm was so fired after this.

 “Can you look at me kiddo?”

 Coaxing him. This was weird. Why wasn’t he just hauling him off the floor and laughing about how clumsy he was at his age too? Looking at him was easy. Pretty hard to miss him, with all the bright orange.

 “Maddie? Can you come over here?” His question was strangely stilted, not much of a bellow.

 Dad was going to get the wrong idea because his body didn’t want to cooperate. Great. Fantastic. He could feel the warmth in his chest, the sign his heart was still going. He was just fine, just a bit inconvenienced at the moment. Why couldn’t dad just be  dad  and do something dumb like pick him up with one hand while sounding way too excited about some new tool that he built?

 “What’s wrong?” His mom said, her footsteps doing the same thing dad’s had. Speed that suddenly cut down to almost nothing. “Danny, did you hit your head?”

 “I think he might have, he’s not responding. I didn’t want to try to move him-“

 “You did great Jack, it’s okay.”

 Gross. He hoped they didn’t get caught up in one of their lovey dovey circles while he was stuck trying to get his stupid legs to remember how to do things. He was responding! He groaned, and he definitely twitched a bit. Weren’t they paying attention? He tried again, a bit more forcefully and ignoring the pang in his neck. More of a jolt from someone with too much static cling than actual pain, really.

 “Should I call 911? He isn’t moving! He just stayed there- didn’t even act all tough for his old man!”

 Jack was panicking.  Dad was panicking. Over nothing! Why wasn’t mom distracting him with fudge or some random study? No one was being normal today. Danny shuddered, he knew he did, it went with the pulse under his skin.

 “That’d be great sweetie, just stay close.”

 “In case you need my big strong arms to help carry him, right?”

 “Just in case.” She wasn’t wearing the hood of her jumpsuit, at least.

 It didn’t make it more comfortable when she crouched down, biting her lip and staring at him. Like this was concerning. It was the opposite of that, he was a klutz, a gangly teenager, it was normal for him to be a bit banged up. This shouldn’t concern her, or anyone. The only reason it bugged him was the not being able to move right now nonsense.

 “You aware in there sweetie?” she said, rather loudly and clapping near his ear.

  Yes I am, but I can’t tell you. Maybe he could focus on taking a breath and it would kick off whatever turned off his mind to body connection. Had he done anything strange before coming down here? Not really. He could absolutely feel her digging her nails into his earlobe though, ow! More motivation to move, but something wasn’t getting across. Maybe he was getting a bit freaked out about it too. Only because of his parents being weird. He was fine, he had to be fine. It was nothing, less than nothing.

 “I’m just going to make sure he’s still breathing Jack, do you have anyone on the line yet?”

 A loud response, but not to her question. “No it’s not a ghost emergency! It’s a human emergency!”

 Of course he was breathing. He couldn’t look that bad from such a small fall. Just breathe out the words ‘Hey mom, personal space’ and they’d laugh and it’d be nothing. All this fussing was making his skin crawl but of course he had to have ‘special ghost freezing up’. Was it his ice powers? Like he could get his powers being snarky like that, appreciated it in a twisted sort of way- but it would be better around people who wouldn’t assume the worst? Like anyone else. Even Dash.

 “Tell the operator he isn’t breathing.” Maddie’s voice was cold and controlled, even as she went back to biting her lip right after.

 He was totally breathing. He could feel the air that ran in and out of his lungs, the swell and fall that other ghosts knew as a weak point, a way to slow him down. He knew what being doubled over, air shoved right out of him from a harsh blow felt like, how it felt like the portal again. Throat twitching, body heaving and trying to regain what it lost. The darkness that bit at the edges of his vision as every nerve went screaming  You’re Dying . Hated that feeling, shook the ghosts who did that hard once they were in a thermos. This was nothing like that.

 “He isn’t breathing, you need to hurry! My wife knows CPR- just tell them to hurry this is my  son , please”

 Yelling to hide the quaver in his voice. Like a kicked puppy yelping. It sounded so wrong. This was going to be so awkward after. They’d just...pretend this never happened, right? That’d be for the best. No, he was going to get grounded forever for some ‘dumb prank’, since he was fine and worried them so much. Which didn’t seem too bad if it stopped all of...this.

 He moved a little. A toe, he was pretty sure. More notably was his mother, carefully getting him off the uneven stair to be flat on his back. Trying to keep his head from moving, and she couldn’t see he was looking at her? When she was this close? Too busy trying to be calm. Who could be busy enough to think he wasn’t breathing or tracking with his eyes? Another twitch, another inward curse that he couldn’t get back in control.

 “Just hold on, help is coming.” She said, but the half ghost couldn’t tell who she meant, exactly. Him, dad or herself? Either way the quiet remark did not prepare him for the sheer force slammed into his crest. Like she wanted to slam right through him! Was it so much to ask that his parents stop nearly killing him by trying to help? Just try moving again and everything will be fine.

 He couldn’t keep the mental mantra up when he heard- when he felt his ribs crack from the pointless force. She was killing him, he didn’t need help breathing, he had to get it through to them no matter how much his body buzzed and resisted his need to move. He had to focus and push through it, ignoring how cold and wrong it felt, how it seemed like he was squirming free of something that didn’t want him to go.

 Her bone crushing assault stopped once he got his arm up, not even needing to touch her before she froze. The fear was wrong, out of place so he redoubled his efforts, twisting and struggling against himself, the sticky mass that wasn’t letting him act or speak to calm them down.

 The phone hit the floor. He heard it. So why didn’t dad say anything? Danny twisted, wanting to make sure he was okay. Still stuck. At least he had a hand free and most of an arm, the edges of his fingers tracing the tiles of the floor. He could brace himself that way, pushing down hard to try and jar his shoulder loose. He could hear air moving, like a harsh breath out. Good- breathing was good. Even when it sounded so harsh and low. 

 “Jack- are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Maddie moved back, giving him the space he wanted ever since she’d cracked his ribs. They still stung under his skin, hissing at him to keep his parents away before he managed to get even more injuries over something so silly.

 “I’m not sure what we’re seeing.” The phone remained on the floor.

 That didn’t seem right. He’d sat up, mostly. Half sat up, propped up with an arm. Still mostly stuck and uncomfortable, the snapping and crackling sensation still clinging to his free shoulder. Really, he felt worse than how he started. at least there wasn’t pain in ‘hah my body is playing freeze tag without me’ land. The pulling sensation made his head ache and vision swim to the point he wasn’t actually sure if he was still looking at the ceiling or not. He couldn’t go back to just being frozen though, that’d suck. So just convince the rest of himself to get up. No problem!

Were lies in his head always this unconvincing? It felt like yanking himself free of a too sticky slime, strands clinging and tugging back until they finally snapped, parts still stuck but free of the main mass. At least ectoplasm had the decency not to stretch when you got drenched in it most of the time.  Come on, focus and keep it together.  He let out a wheeze as the last stubborn strands snapped, ignoring how loud it sounded to properly reorient himself.

 Sitting up, properly, good! Parents staring with weird, half horrified expressions: bad. Very, very bad. 

“I’m okay, I just fell.” Danny spoke, he could speak properly again. So why? “Sorry for scaring you guys?” He tried again, trying to ignore the first thought across his mind.

 They kept staring. Maddie seemed to be recovering, shoulders starting to relax, but she seemed to be reaching for her belt.

 He didn’t sound right. No, that wasn’t quite right, he just sounded wrong for Danny  Fenton. Who he should be right now, he hadn’t been able to talk, let alone go ghost. This probably looked really, really bad. How had he switched, anyway?

Mom was reaching for a gun, wasn’t she? Crud. Now he regretted talking at all, how was he going to explain why Danny Phantom was treating two ghost hunters like his parents? Or how he managed to look like their kid. Maybe he could change back and convince them they were seeing things?

Yeah no, that was way too dumb.

 “Wait.” Jack rested a hand on his wife’s shoulder, causing her to stop pulling the weapon. He wasn’t looking at the ghost at all, just her. Maddie remained stiff, not able to ignore the glowing kid on her floor.

 Okay...dad was usually the gung ho one. Maybe he could get away with this? Danny tried to get a better grip on the situation. Felt a new pain, sharp and cold in his throat. Deep green scars clashed against his white gloves and ran all across his jumpsuit,  glow intensifying as the panic choked him into silence. Fresh and angry like back- back before he managed to stumble out of the portal when he died when the accident happened.

With his human arms just as scared below them, still against the tile. The damage looked old, half scabbed over with only a dull glow deep in the death marks wounds. His arms attached to the rest of his body- that he was half out of. 

 Why? How was his body still and silent while he was sitting and looking at it. He’s cold. His body is cold. It isn’t  breathing  there isn’t some other facet of his personality sitting behind the dull blue eyes. This isn’t how it works! If he splits, it’s just temporary, he can fix it but his other half- corpse is wrong.

The pulling and clinging at his legs doesn’t feel like slime anymore. Rotting flesh that wants to drag him back, smother him in a cloying warmth that will only remind him why it burned, how it hurt. He had to move, he couldn’t stay half like this, it would get better once it wasn’t like this.

It didn’t want to let go as he tried to pull away, ectoplasm getting snagged on every nerve and muscle fiber, each pause a reminder of the shock and pain of his end that day.

He knew he screamed when he pulled free and slammed into the wall, furious green scars still marring his jumpsuit where there should be none.

 What would Mom and Dad think?

 No no no no no. He spotted movement from them and acted. He couldn’t let his mom break his body more, or look at it too closely. Dad couldn’t see what happened! This was fine, he could fix this!

 He grabbed his corpse and fled through the wall.

[bloody-bee-tea]

Liminal Spaces

This also fills @felinesomnambulist​'s prompt of "only YOU could convince me to do something like this!” but I need to hold on to that ask for the second prompt.

“I hate you so much,” Jiang Cheng mutters, not for the first time but he still walks on.

“Come on, A-Cheng,” Nie Huaisang whines, hanging off Jiang Cheng’s arm, and his voice echoes eerily through the empty hallway.

“This is so bad,” Jiang Cheng mumbles, and he doesn’t even dare to imagine all the consequences this could have.

“It’s not that bad,” Nie Huaisang immediately gives back and dangles the key in front of Jiang Cheng. “I got this fair and square, so technically it’s not even breaking and entering.”

“You talked Lan Xichen into stealing this key from Lan Qiren so we could break into the school at night,” Jiang Cheng says, pinching the bridge of his nose because he can’t believe Nie Huaisang talked him into this.

“Yes, so it’s not even my crime,” Nie Huaisang says with the absolute conviction only fools can have and Jiang Cheng is absolutely helpless against it.

“I hate you so much,” he reiterates, because it bears repeating in Jiang Cheng’s mind, but Nie Huaisang only smiles at him.

“Come on, admit it,” he cajoles. “This is creepy and exciting and awesome.”

“Yeah, right until we get caught and I get disowned,” Jiang Cheng grumbles.

If his parents find out about this, he’s dead.

“But we won’t get caught,” Nie Huaisang reassures him and drags Jiang Cheng along. “And besides, would you rather I go with Wei Wuxian? Or would you rather go with him?”

Jiang Cheng snorts at the question.

“Only you could convince me to do something like this! And if you want to go with Wei Wuxian and risk serious repercussions because he doesn’t know how to behave, then please do feel free,” Jiang Cheng says and turns around on his heels, pretending he wants to leave.

“Noooooooo, please don’t do this to me, it’s too creepy alone,” Nie Huaisang almost yells and yet again his voice echoes.

“Be more quiet,” Jiang Cheng hisses, but to his chagrin that also carries and Nie Huaisang only laughs at him.

“Let’s get going,” Nie Huaisang says after he calmed down again and he keeps dragging Jiang Cheng away. “The faster we go on with this the sooner you can cross ‘visiting a liminal space’ off your bucket list and I can do the same with dancing on the bleachers.”

“You could totally dance on the bleachers during the day,” Jiang Cheng shoots back because it’s not like Nie Huaisang is ashamed of anything he does.

“But that’s not the point of it. It has to be exciting and slightly illegal,” Nie Huaisang gives back and Jiang Cheng stops dead in his tracks.

“So you admit it. It’s illegal.”

“Only a little bit. Not enough to get us into serious trouble, I promise,” Nie Huaisang reassures him, but Jiang Cheng doesn’t believe a single word he says.

This is going to end so badly.

“Let’s get this behind us,” Jiang Cheng decides and now he’s the one dragging Nie Huaisang along, but seriously, he just wants to get this over with so they can leave.

The sooner they leave the less chance there is for anyone to catch them. Or so Jiang Cheng hopes.

It’s not long before they get to the gym—this is their old school after all, so they know the ways—but it’s so much more creepy than Jiang Cheng imagined it to be. He hadn’t realized that people would make such a difference to the whole mood and he has to admit that he checks over his shoulder more than once on their way.

“Scared?” Nie Huaisang asks him, with a light jab of his elbow to Jiang Cheng’s side and with anyone else Jiang Cheng would snap but not with Nie Huaisang.

“Yes,” he admits, and relishes in the way Nie Huaisang’s eyes go wide.

“Oh,” he breathes out and then looks down. “I’m kinda scared, too. It’s so—empty and creepy. It shouldn’t be this empty,” Nie Huaisang says and Jiang Cheng smiles at him because this is why he feels he can be honest with Nie Huaisang.

“True. Now come on, I want to go home.”

They quickly make their way to the gym now, spurred on by their need to leave and soon enough they look up at the bleachers.

“You wanna dance on every row?”

“Yes,” Nie Huaisang decides and gets started on that immediately.

Jiang Cheng follows after him, though he’s much more careful about it and definitely doesn’t jump from row to row recklessly like Nie Huaisang does but they make their way up relatively soon.

“Well, that was kinda underwhelming,” Nie Huaisang decides and turns around to jump back down.

Except that he slips and falls off the row.

Jiang Cheng reaches out for him, and manages to get his hands on his arm, stopping Nie Huaisang from falling completely, but in turn Jiang Cheng slips off his own row.

And lands really badly on his foot.

“Fuck,” he yells, the ankle throbbing almost immediately, but he still keeps a hand on Nie Huaisang until he’s safely sitting down.

“You okay?” Jiang Cheng asks and Nie Huaisang looks at him with watery eyes.

“What does that even matter, you’re hurt!”

“It’s just sprained, I think,” Jiang Cheng tries to reassure him but when he puts weight on it—carefully, just testing the waters—pain laces up his entire leg. “Or maybe not,” he pants out, falling back onto the bleacher.

“We have to call someone,” Nie Huaisang says, already searching for his phone. “There’s no way you can bike back.”

He’s right, Jiang Cheng knows that, but he can’t call anyone. All of his options will get him into trouble and that seems so much worse to him than some simple pain.

“I can manage,” he presses out, but Nie Huaisang shakes his head.

“You can’t,” he decides and then he already has his phone pressed to his ear before Jiang Cheng can protest further.

The pain is suddenly secondary to the panic gripping Jiang Cheng’s heart, because he’ll be in so much trouble. His mother will yell at him for days, his father will either ignore him or hand him over to the police, his sister will be so disappointed and Wei Wuxian will be so mad that they didn’t take him with them, and seriously all of his options are bad.

“Huaisang, please, no,” he whispers, hoping to stop Nie Huaisang, but he simply waves him off.

“Da-ge? Yeah, so listen. Wanyin and I—we maybe, kinda, broke into our old school a little bit?” Nie Huaisang waits for a moment and Jiang Cheng can faintly hear Nie Mingjue yell at the other end of the line. “Maybe Wanyin got hurt saving me from falling? And maybe we can’t make our way back home on our own? And seeing as I have potentially the best da-ge in the world—oh, you’ll pick us up? How nice of you! We came through the side-entrance, you know the one, we’ll try to get there from the gym, but meet us halfway!” Nie Huaisang cheerfully says and then hangs up on Nie Mingjue.

“Huaisang,” Jiang Cheng hisses, and he’s sure his face must be absolutely pale because from all the possible options, getting yelled at by Nie Mingjue and disappointing him must be the worst of them.

They are on the verge of something, Jiang Cheng is aware of that—has to be really, with all the flirting they have been doing—but this is going to ruin everything. He would take being yelled at his by mother anytime over disappointing Nie Mingjue and ruining whatever chance he has with him.

“Don’t worry, da-ge has our backs.”

“He’s best friends with Lan Xichen. He’s going to rat us out. And even if he doesn’t, he’s going to be so disappointed.”

“Xichen gave us the key in the first place, I don’t see what he gets to say to this,” Nie Huaisang sniffs and then gets up. “And da-ge did way worse when he was younger. Alright, up you go, we have to limp a bit now.”

Jiang Cheng stares incredulously at him for a moment longer before he hauls himself up, balancing on one foot.

“This is going to suck so much,” he mutters, and then leans gratefully onto Nie Huaisang when he slides in under his arm.

“We’ll make it. Da-ge will handle the rest, you’ll see.”

“Your da-ge will kill me,” Jiang Cheng grumbles, but he starts limping along.

His foot is already swollen, he can tell, and putting any kind of weight on it hurts like hell, but somehow they make their way down the bleachers and across the gym.

They barely made it into the hallway when they hear something.

“Please let this be da-ge, please let this be da-ge, because otherwise this is the moment we die,” Nie Huaisang mutters.

“Huaisang!” Jiang Cheng hisses, because this is really not what he needs right now, but only a second later Nie Mingjue calls out.

“Huaisang? Wanyin?”

“Here, da-ge!” Nie Huaisang yells back immediately, and they simply wait for Nie Mingjue to find them.

“There you are,” he says once he comes into sight and takes in their appearance with one glance. “How bad?”

“Definitely sprained, maybe worse, he can’t walk on it at all,” Nie Huaisang sums up and then steps away and basically throws Jiang Cheng at Nie Mingjue.

Nie Mingjue catches him easily, and he steadies Jiang Cheng much better than Nie Huaisang did.

“You saved my idiot brother?” Nie Mingjue asks wryly and Jiang Cheng nods, much to Nie Huaisang’s protest. “Well done,” he praises him then and Jiang Cheng goes beet red in the face.

He hopes Nie Mingjue doesn’t notice.

“He didn’t want me to call you,” Nie Huaisang huffs when they start walking—well, hopping in Jiang Cheng’s case—and Jiang Cheng wishes he’d shut up.

“Why not?” Nie Mingjue asks but before anyone can answer he clicks his tongue. “No, actually, I see. Your parents. I wouldn’t call them either,” he says with a nod and then smiles at Jiang Cheng. “You can always call me.”

“Yeah, right,” Jiang Cheng bitterly says, because like hell he can.

Nie Mingjue is Nie Huaisang’s brother; of course he’ll come to help him. But if Jiang Cheng should need help, he doubts that Nie Mingjue would do the same.

“What?” Nie Mingjue asks and Nie Huaisang chimes in.

“He thinks he doesn’t have the right to call you, seeing as you’re my brother,” he helpfully explains and Jiang Cheng wishes he’d simply shut up.

And get out of his head.

“Ah, I see,” Nie Mingjue says and then stops in his tracks. “Okay then,” he decides and leans down to kiss Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng is completely frozen for the first second but then he melts into it and he doesn’t even pay attention to Nie Huaisang’s screech.

“What was that?” Nie Huaisang wants to know when Nie Mingjue and Jiang Cheng part and while Jiang Cheng is still a little bit dazed, Nie Mingjue smiles.

“Well, we’ve been flirting for a while, right, Wanyin?” he asks and Jiang Cheng can only nod.

They had been, true, but he had thought that maybe they weren’t ready for this. It seems like he was wrong about that.

“And like this he can call his boyfriend to come to his rescue.”

It makes Jiang Cheng laugh, and lean a little bit more into Nie Mingjue, while Nie Huaisang still pretends that he would love to gauge his own eyes out.

“I think I can manage to do that,” Jiang Cheng fondly says and leans up for another brief kiss.

“Stop that,” Nie Huaisang demands.

“I’m hurt because of you, I can have a little comfort,” Jiang Cheng tells him and Nie Mingjue drops a kiss on his forehead.

“Or a lot comfort,” he decides and then gets them walking again. “We’re going to bandage your foot, and put some ice on it, and then you’ll stay with me on the couch.”

“What a hardship,” Jiang Cheng grumbles and then gives a cheeky grin to Nie Huaisang. “You have the best ideas, Huaisang, did I ever tell you?”

“I hate you both,” Nie Huaisang decides and stalks off without them.

He has to wait for them at the side-entrance to lock it again but he doesn’t speak to them at all during the ride back to the Nie house and it’s only when Nie Mingjue and Jiang Cheng are cuddled up on the couch that he comes back out, ice-cream for all of them in his hands.

“Because you—“ he gives Jiang Cheng a bowl— “are the best friend, and you—” one bowl for Nie Mingjue—“are the best brother. Now, I’m happy for you both, but let’s never talk about this again, it’s bad enough I have to see it.”

Jiang Cheng laughs at that just like Nie Mingjue does and then they settle all right in.

All in all, it was a very good breaking-and-entering.

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

[howdoyousleep3]

Self care story for the day:

It wasn't easy, keeping this whole thing a secret. It had to be timed perfectly, while on his trip, since there'd be absolutely no way to keep it from James if he was still seeing him every day.

Steve hated hiding things from his boyfriend, but he alleviated the guilt by justifying that it was a good surprise, and nothing to feel bad about. There had been a few close calls, when James had peeked over his shoulder at his phone during the appointment making, and almost overhearing a conversation that Steve's been having with a classmate about their experience.

But now Steve was halfway across the country for the next three weeks on a school trip, James was none the wiser, and the day was upon him.

The tattoo parlor was clean and warm, the artist was open and perfectly happy to work with Steve's design, answering all his questions and generally making him feel a lot better about the whole thing.

It knew it was kind of extreme, in a not-so-good way, to get a tattoo to show your love for someone, but honestly, he'd been wanting to get one for a really long time, and the design that he'd chosen was ambiguous enough that if--God forbid--he and James part ways, it won't be clocked as a relationship tattoo.

The whole process took only about an hour and a half, the artist quick and precise, and only a slight burn lingered as Steve eyed the finished piece in the mirror.

"It's absolutely perfect," he whispers, smiling wide enough that his face hurts.

It wasn't until the artist was cleaning and wrapping his ink, explaining how to care for the healing tattoo that the little red charms glinting in the window caught his eye.

"Those are blood jewels," she replied to his question about them. "We take a bit of your blood and seal it inside a tiny vial that you can wear, or give to someone you care about. It's delightfully macabre and romantic, isn't it?"

Steve agrees and leaves a little bit later with an aftercare checklist, a small bandage on his finger, and a little box in a little bag.

-

The remaining days of the trip are dedicated to schoolwork, tattoo care, and Steve stopping himself from spilling the beans every time James sighed heavily down the phone line, "I miss you so much, Steve. Can't wait to have you back with me, baby. It's so lonely without you here."

It feels like forever and no time at all that Steve is stepping out of the airport terminal and into the open arms of James Barnes, both of them heaving out shuddering breaths as their pieces finally stop shifting and slot back into place perfectly. They were finally home.

An errant stroke of James' hand has Steve flinching slightly, James immediately clocking the motion, and Steve has to push on tip-toes to stem the questions he knows are coming with a quick and dirty kiss.

"I'll tell you at home, okay?" he whispered against the older man's mouth. "Please take me home," he sags against the broad chest in front of him, suddenly very, very tired. "Wanna g'home."

James is clearly concerned, but he merely nods, tucks Steve against his side, and takes him home, just like his baby boy asked.

The drive is quiet, soft music from the radio cutting the silence, but neither man talk as James weaves them in and out of city traffic, one hand on the wheel and the other clasping Steve's tightly on the center console. Steve nods off a few times, but is awake and aware as they pull into the driveway.

Bags and suitcases get gathered up and hauled into the house, but as soon as the door clicks closed behind both of them, James is dumping his burdens and stalking towards Steve, looking seconds away from the warpath if Steve is actually hurt.

"Show me," he growls, eyes glued to the hidden thatch of skin that caused his boy to flinch away from his touch.

Steve shivered almost violently, but obeyed, feeling his pants tighten at the heat in his Daddy's gaze, crossing his arms at his waist to grasp the hem of his shirt and twisting to get it over his head, keeping his left arm raised to show off his secret.

James breathing is the only sound for a very, very long time, getting heavier and more ragged as he looks at the art on his baby's side. "Fucking hell," he finally chokes out, stepping in close to trace a gently trembling finger around the outside of the tattoo, not touching the ink but making Steve shudder and whine high in his throat.

It's not that big, maybe the size of James' spread hand, and it's done in the neo-traditional style; stark black lines standing stark with vibrant colors.

James recognized some of the blossoms--the red carnation, the little dandelion, the tiger lily, and even a cactus blossom--but most of them were beyond his ken, and the whole beautiful bouquet was bound in a flourish of grass and white heather. As he soaks in all the details and colors, Steve's hand joins his on his goose-pimpled skin, bringing James' large fingers to each flower and speaking in a quivering voice:

"Cactus, for endurance

Carnation, because I ache for you

Tiger Lily, for my proud and successful Daddy

Dandelion, for loyalty and happiness

Pink Hyacinth, for playfulness

Lily-of-the-Vally, for making my life complete

Mistletoe, for kisses

Petunia, because you bring me peace

Primrose, I can't live without you

Heather, for the protection you give me

And grass, for the submission I give to you."

-

James is not ashamed of the tears that are tracking down his cheeks as he pulls Steve into his arms, burying his face in the crook of the blond's neck. "I love you so much, Steve," he rasps. "This is so fucking beautiful, sugar. You are so fucking beautiful. What did I do to deserve you, huh? How did I get the best fucking baby boy in the whole damn world?"

Steve's laugh is a little soggy sounding, but he gives James' damp cheek a kiss before pulling back, "I got you something else, too."

"Another gift? Stevie, it's my job to spoil you, not the other way 'round."

Steve rolls his eyes and sniffles softly as he squats to dig through his backpack, "Shut up, James. I can get you gifts if I want. Daddy's need spoiling too, y'know." He straightened with a little black box, cupped in one outstretched palm. "Here."

James gently takes the box and lifts off the lid.

Nestled in a tuft of black tissue paper is a small red pendant in the shape of a teardrop. James plucks it up and holds it to the light, realizing that the red is actually liquid. "It's beautiful, sugar," he says, turning it this way and that.

"It's...um...i-it's actually my...my blood in there," Steve stutters, hands twisting nervously, blush spilling down his still bare chest. "I saw them at the parlor I got inked at and...well, I...I wanted you t-to always have a piece of me w-with you. To know that I'm always there."

James stared at the little red gem with fresh eyes, and slowly, reverently, slid the cord over his head, cupping his palm protectively over where it settled on his chest. "You are...," he started, but had to swallow back more tears.

He decided to give up on words and simply scoop Steve up in his arms, making the younger man yelp, then giggle, and carrying him to the bedroom.

His actions would speak louder than any words he could say.

And his actions would swear his love so deeply that it would mark Steve even more permanently than his new tattoo.

On his chest, a drop of red glittered brightly.

My dearest Shadow, I adore you and your mind and your skill and your attention to detail. This one really got me! Steve would no doubt sneak a tattoo for his Daddy and James would no doubt be emotional as fuck over it. The blood jewel?? 😭 Oh my goodness. Wow. We are truly blessed on this Self Care Sunday. 💕

[rhysismydaddy]

Felons pt. 1 (Nessian)

Nessian multichapter. Next part out probably Monday. As always, this one just sets up some stuff so it’s kinda boring. This one’s probably going to be long. And an emotional roller coaster. Just letting you know :) 

Lightly based off the book The Witness. I say lightly because I’ve actually never even read this book, but my mom told me about it. ALSO no offense to anyone who’s from/lives in Nebraska lol.

Cassian swiveled around in his chair and looked at his partner with raised brows. “She’s in Nebraska?”

“That’s what I just said, isn’t it?”

Someone’s a little testy today. He ignores the tone and repeats, “But... Nebraska? What the hell is she doing there? And why did it take us so long to find her?”

Azriel gives him a tight look, and he realizes the reason for his pissy attitude. He’s annoyed it took him so long to track her down. 

Before he can tell his partner it isn’t his fault, he says, “She isn’t doing much. She’s completely off the grid. Which answers your second stupid question, too.”

“Okay... how off the grid are we talking?”

The woman had grown up in a penthouse, for fuck’s sake. He couldn’t imagine her living in the middle of nowhere without any of the comfort she’d lived with her entire life. 

“No cell phone or bank records for the last two years. The last time she was seen by any sort of traffic camera was before that, and it was in Atlanta.” He scrolls through something on his desktop with a frown. “From what I can tell, she took all her money out in cash and hoped on a bus.”

Nothing about that sounded like the woman he’d been reading about, but he wasn’t about to argue with Azriel in such a bad mood. “So she went straight to Nebraska?”

“I don’t know.”

His least favorite answer. “How’d you find her, anyway?”

“Well, I figured that unless she was sleeping under a bridge, she had to be paying rent somewhere. So I went state by state, looking at new property purchases under her known aliases.” Azriel sighs, running a hand through his dark hair. “But that didn’t pull up any results, so I looked at all the IDs on new renter’s insurance purchases until I matched one to her.”

His eyebrows rose. “That’s...”

“Tedious as shit.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s why it took so damn long,” he mutters. “She’s been careful, Cass. I mean really, really careful.”

A laugh bubbled out of him at that. “Well, she should be. She’s a felon.”

~Nesta~

Nesta’s breath clouded in front of her as she ran up the hill, panting like crazy. Even though she’d taken up running after the move, she still fucking hated it. Especially when it was cold. 

Which, in Nebraska, was somehow year round.  

Even the summers here were cold compared to back home-

No. Not home. 

This was home now. 

California was slowly, painfully becoming a distant memory, and she had to constantly force herself to remember that Mackenzie Brooks had never lived there. She was born in Michigan. She has no family or friends. Her hobbies include reading and running (the last of which was a definite mistake to include). 

And she was her. 

God, it honestly was a miracle she hadn’t slipped up yet. 

Maybe it was still the fear that drove her. Maybe it was just that she knew she could never go back to her old life. No matter that she wanted to.

No matter that she’d picked up and left without a word.  No matter that her sisters probably thought she was dead. 

Thankfully, she made it to the top of the hill before she passed out or died, and she bent over, sucking down the freezing air. It was only October, but it was already cold enough to force her to wear three layers and a beanie. 

Despite being miserable and cold, she forced herself to go through her training course. 

Because it couldn’t just be enough to be fit enough to run away anymore. If the person chasing her was faster... 

Nesta punched her hand through the target, satisfied when the wood cracked down the middle. Her knuckles luckily had gotten used to the abuse, so when she ducked under the branch and struck again, another target went flying. 

By the time she was done, her hands and arms were tired and her body was aching for a bath. 

Or two hours on a warm, sunny beach. 

Since only one of those things was bound to actually happen, she trudged back to her cabin, praying the hot water would hold out long enough for a full bath. 

One thing about Blair, Nebraska was that somehow, the less than ten thousand people who lived here were always experiencing a water shortage. 

It rivaled the cold ass weather for her least favorite thing about the place as a very close second. 

Noticing who was parked in front of her small little house, she grimaced and amended her statement. Lack of hot water was actually third, second only to the one and only Sheriff Marks. 

He spun around when he finally heard her steps, smiling a big, ugly, fake smile. “Miss Brooks.”

“Marks.”

According to small-town social guidelines, she was being beyond rude for not calling him Sheriff. But he was a short, ugly, annoying man, and she didn’t hold an ounce of respect for him. 

And because she wasn’t completely fake, she didn’t bother hiding it. 

“What are you doing on my property?”

His smile dimmed as his eyes beady eyes narrowed slightly. “I wanted to see how you’re doing. You never come into town. And here in Blair, we take care of each other.”

That right there was the reason for her dislike; Sheriff Marks was an insatiably curious man. 

And ever since she’d shown up a year ago, he’d been trying to put together the puzzle of why a moderately attractive young woman would move to the middle of butt-fucking nowhere. 

“I’m fine.”

She wanted to walk by him and go inside, where she could blissfully lock him out, but she had a list of rules now, and not putting her back to people she didn’t know or like was at the top of it. 

“Okay, sure, but-”

“Listen, Marks. I appreciate this... gesture, but I moved here to be left alone. I’d appreciate it if you would respect that.” It was the most she’d ever said to him, and he looked a little shocked. “I think I’ve made it more than clear.”

His face went somehow even ruddier, and for a split second, she regretted the harsh words. 

She couldn’t have people caring about her, though. When people cared, they stopped by more and felt entitled to know your business. Neither of which were things she wanted. 

So she just raised a brow and shot a meaningful glance to his cruiser. 

“Yes. It’s perfectly clear exactly who you are.” 

She almost rolled her eyes at the attempted insult, thankful when he finally turned to leave. As he was pulling away, she united her muddy shoes and got her house key from her sock, grimacing at how tight her back was when she stood up. 

Inside, she went through and made sure every door and window was locked, a habit she’d picked up two years ago and hadn’t been able to shake. 

God apparently was looking out for her today, because when she finally made it upstairs, there was enough hot water to fill the tub. 

When she sunk down to her shoulders and closed her eyes, enjoying the moment of peace. But then images of her sisters’ faces, the ocean, and her old home popped up uninvited in her head. 

It was always quiet moments like these when she found it the hardest to shake the memories of who she used to be. And since Nebraska was always fucking quiet... 

Nesta reminded herself of why she was here; why it had been necessary to leave. She reminded herself that her family was safer with her gone, that she was safer. 

But the hole in her chest refused to listen and close up. 

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she was too tired to even brush it away and chastise herself. Because for the first time in twenty-five years, she admitted she was lonely. 

She’d been alone for most of her life, but there was a difference between alone and lonely. Even when she’d isolated herself from her family and friends, they’d still been there for her. 

But now... she had no one here. And she’d never felt so alone in her life. 

It was horrible enough to make her consider going back, despite the risks. 

This is home now, she told herself, dunking under the water to wash away the thoughts hounding her. You didn’t work your ass off to get safe just to bitch out after a year. 

Coming up and gasping for air, she went through her cover, just like she did every night. 

“My name is Mackenzie Brooks, nickname Mackie. I’m from Michigan, but I moved to Nebraska last year to start over. I like to read and run. I’m twenty-five.” Taking a deep breathe, she finished, “I don’t have any family.” 

No amount of time under the water could ebb the sting of those words, though.

~Cassian~

Cassian was honestly a little surprised he hadn’t gotten fired. 

He absolutely hated his orders, and he’d made that more than clear. They’d come straight from Command and “weren’t negotiable,” but that didn’t mean he hadn’t tried. 

Calling his boss a two-faced asshole might’ve been a bit much, but it felt justified in the moment.

Because in all the time he’d spent searching for Nesta Archeron, he’d always pictured the day he’d finally track her down and slap some cuffs on her wrists, haul her away to jail.

He’d never imagined he’d be given orders to find out what she knew first. 

And he’d also never imagined having to do so in fucking Nebraska. 

An hour in the state, and he already hated it. He was from Boston, so he didn’t mind the cold weather, but the lack of buildings over thirty feet was a shock to the system. 

That, alongside the fact that everyone here was wearing some form of plaid, only worsened his mood. 

It wasn’t like he cared about her or anything, but he’d never really liked undercover work. Deceiving a woman--no matter that she was a criminal--never felt right to him. 

But orders were orders. 

He had to find out why she’d run, what she knew about what had happened, and if she had any proof. The goal was to get it all recorded, so he had to carry around a stupid little tap recorder in his jacket pocket. 

Maybe she’d meet him and just spill her guts immediately. That’d be ideal, but it seemed pretty fucking unlikely. At the very least, he’d have to get her to trust him enough to talk about the events of two years ago.

He drove the crappy old truck Azriel had gotten him through the small town, gaining the eyes of pretty much every person he passed. 

Not a lot of new people, apparently.

Ignoring them, he drove to the address of a small house on the outskirts of town. Or home for however long it took him to get close to her. 

Gods, I hope she’s talkative, he thought, walking up the creaky stairs and shouldering the door open. 

Quiet and small, but at least it was clean. 

Throwing his bag down, Cassian grabbed his laptop and started to get to work. 

~

Three hours and a trip to the grocery store later, he’d learned absolutely nothing Nesta--or Mackenzie Brooks, rather. 

There had been nothing online, and no one in the store had much to say besides, “She moved here a year ago. Keeps to herself.”

Great. 

Luckily, he had a reason to go see her. They were neighbors. Kind of. 

Her house was further out of town than his, and she owned the land around it, so she didn’t actually have neighbors. But he lived within a two mile radius, so he counted it. 

Which is why he found himself sitting in her gravel driveway, eyebrows high on his forehead, staring at the place.

And for the first time, he questioned if Azriel was right. 

Because the woman he’d read about... she definitely didn’t seem the type to live here. 

The porch was missing floor boards, the roof was caving in on one side, and the paint on the outside of the house was peeling off. The only thing that looked somewhat new was the front door. 

It had three locks and seemed to be a little heavy duty compared to the house, which made it stand out in a pretty obvious way.

Stepping out of the car, he walked up to get a better look, avoiding the holes in the floor. The house was quiet, and he knocked on the door, finding it to be solid and heavy. 

No answer. 

He knocked again, waiting a few minutes. Then he decided to be nosy and peek in the window. 

A couch and dining table were all that was visible, furthering his opinion that she couldn’t actually live here. 

She’d grown up in one of the nicest apartment buildings in California. Her father had been a wealthy real-estate tycoon. She’d gone to private school and sailing camp, for Christ’s sake. 

There was no way she lived here. 

That theory was proven very soundly incorrect a second later when he felt something tap the back of his head. Repressing the jump that rose from not hearing anyone sneak up on him, he straightened and turned around. 

And found himself looking down the barrel of a shotgun into the surprisingly beautiful, angry face of Nesta Archeron. 

“You have five seconds to get the hell off my porch.” 

Shock ran through his system like lightening. For a few reasons, the least of which was the gun. 

For starters, pictures didn’t at all do her justice, because she was probably the most attractive thing Cassian had ever laid eyes on. And that was with mud splattered on her face, hair in a ponytail, and athletic clothes covering her thin frame. 

Then there was the fact that Azriel had been completely correct. Nesta Archeron, pampered little trust fund princess, was living here. In Nebraska. Completely off the grid. By herself. 

The gun was also a surprise, but not as much as the way she was holding it. Her feet were squared, her shoulders lined up to absorb the kickback if she fired. She looked... she looked like she knew what she was doing. 

She raised a brow, reminding him of the fact that he still hadn’t spoken. 

And remembering who he was supposed to be, what he was supposed to do, he ignored the gun and smiled broadly. “Or what?”

“Or I will shoot you,” she responded calmly, hand pulling back the fore-end to load the gun with a snap. 

“You aren’t going to shoot me,” he assured her. “I brought you a pie.” He held up the baked good and grinned. It was from the grocery store, but it still counted, right? “It’s blueberry.”

“What? Who the fuck are you? And why are you here?”

Sticking out a hand that she ignored, he said, “Cassian. I’m here because I just moved in to the place about a mile from here, and I wanted to meet my neighbors. I gotta say, I’m loving the hospitality.”

Nesta ignored the joke and asked incredulously, “You moved here?”

He nodded. 

She just narrowed her eyes, not buying it apparently. 

Good God, “stand-off-ish” didn’t begin to cover it. 

He was having a difficult time wrapping his head around the fact that this was the same woman who’d gone to UC Santa Barbara, liked to surf, and had dated a movie star.

“But what about the-”

“I hate pie.”

He scoffed, leaning against the crumbling wall of her house like he was unbothered by the rejection in her voice. “No one hates pie.”

Nesta shrugged, jerking her chin towards his truck in a clear get the fuck out manner. 

“I’ll leave if you tell me your name,” he bargained, acting like he didn’t know who she was already.

There was a pause of silence, and a bit of sadness seeped into her bright blue eyes. “Mackenzie.”

Mackenzie Brooks, one of her aliases.  

“Pretty name.”

“Leave.”

“Sweetheart, I honestly can’t believe you’re trying so hard to get rid of me. I’m the best looking guy around here.”

That might very well be true, considering he hadn’t seen a single person under the age of fifty when he’d gone out earlier. 

“And what if I’m not looking for a man?”

“I have a female cousin you could date instead.”

Her lips twitched, and it made him a little too happy to see. “If I take the pie, will you leave?”

“Counteroffer. We split the pie, then I’ll leave.”

Her eyebrows go up. “Who the hell offers someone half a pie?”

“I was planning on giving you the whole pie, but I didn’t know you’d be so beautiful. And feisty.” He ran his eyes over her slowly. “A quality I never even knew I liked.”

“The urge to shoot you just increased.”

Cassian waggled his eyebrows. “So passionate.”

Nesta just sighed, finally lowering the gun. She engaged the safety and leaned it against the door, then snatched the pie from his hands and walked to the porch railing. 

He noticed she didn’t turn her back to him the entire time, and she she kept the gun in arm’s reach. 

What the hell had she been through?

His train of thought was cut off when he heard a splat. Nesta came back to him, one crumpled half of the pie lying upside down in the lid, the other in the original container. She shoved the crumpled half toward him. “Now leave.”

“How did you even cut it? Do you have a knife hidden between your breasts?”

It was a miracle she didn’t slap him for that one. She just narrowed her eyes again and said, “Yes.”

He honestly believed her. 

Cassian sighed, knowing he had to actually leave now. “Well, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, but it’ll do. It was lovely to meet you, Mackenzie.”

“Please just leave.”

Ouch.

He laughed and walked to his truck, calling out, “I’ll see you soon, neighbor!”

Nesta frowned at that, but he ignored it and grinned back. 

She stood on the porch watching him drive away until he was a certain distance, then picked up her stuff and unlocked the door. 

Well, Azriel had definitely been right: she was being very, very careful. 

But why? 

Cassian had no idea, but he was definitely going to find out. 

_____________________________________________________

Part 2

@sjm-things​ @santas-dwynwen​ @thebitchupstairs​ @sayosdreams​ @perseusannabeth​ @cursebreaker29​ @a-bit-of-a-cactus​ @elriel4life​ @girl-who-reads-the-books​ @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln​ @highqueenofelfhame​ @tswaney17​ @rowanisahunk​ @superspiritfestival​ @studyliketate​ @over300books​ @justgiu12​ @maastrash​ @aesthetics-11​ @bamchickawowow​ @b00kworm​ @sleeping-and-books​ @musicmaam​ @hizqueen4life​ @maybekindasortaace​

[seok-jinnies]

one | myg

min yoongi x reader, jeon jungkook x reader ;

angst, light fluff ; wc : ~2.6k

warnings: some swearing

in all his years of existing, min yoongi doesn’t think he has ever loved someone as much as he loves you. after all, he knows, deep in his soul, that you’re the one for him.

however, jeon jeongguk also thinks that you are the one for him, so yoongi might have more than a few problems with that.

Just like that, Yoongi thinks, you’re slipping through his fingers once again. He wants to throw up. Or pass out. Or straight up die. One of the three would be preferable.  

He hadn’t meant to overhear… he had just wanted to come see you. Maybe surprise you with burgers from your favorite diner two blocks away. You had mentioned that you weren’t feeling well at all, and that you were in dire need of a pick me up. Yoongi doesn’t know why he immediately hauled ass to that diner you loved so much just to get you a burger and some fries, especially when you had a boyfriend who could do it for you.

Said boyfriend went by the name of Jeon Jeongguk, an irritating photographer who happened to have a knack for literally everything in the world. It’s almost a bit unfair, how good he was at everything, but at least he treated you well, so at least there was that.

On second thought, it wasn’t just a bit unfair, it was really fucking unfair. Jeongguk had loved you for what? Two, three years? And here he was, living the life of Yoongi’s dreams. Waking up with you, making breakfast with you, just being with you in general. Yoongi almost wants to cry at the thought.

Going back to the matter at hand, Yoongi recalls with startling clarity the moment he had heard Jeongguk’s voice. He was just about to round the corner to yours and Jeongguk’s shared apartment when he heard it. 

“...listen, she can’t know, alright? Whatever happens, (Y/N) cannot find out.” Jeongguk’s voice was hushed, and warning flags were raising at the back of Yoongi’s mind. Was he cheating on you? Pissed, he stopped in his tracks, listening intently. 

“...what?” Jeongguk continues. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve got the ring ready. Am I…? Of course I am. I love her. I want to spend the rest of my life with her. She’s the one, hyung. She’s the one.”

Oh, Yoongi thinks. Oh.

The burger and fries are left on the stairwell.

-

The first time Min Yoongi meets you is on his birthday. Winter was on its last breaths, and he was grateful. No one told him that twenty-five was the age when all your joints started to ache like a grandpa, and he hated it severely. The cold wasn’t helping him much with joint pain either.

It was snowing too, so Yoongi had to make sure to actually wear a coat. It looked like his days of wearing a t-shirt and ripped jeans out in the snow were long gone.

There was nothing special about the day he met you. Perhaps, it was so that you could stand out even more. Not that you needed help standing out; you were already breathtaking on your own. With cosmic assistance? You were absolutely lethal.

He had a camera that day, if only to humor his friend, Jimin, who was devastated that he was spending his birthday alone. You have to at least take pictures, okay? He had insisted through a very static-y phone call the night before. Prove to me that you went out for your birthday. Treat yo self! Jimin squealed. Yoongi had to pull his headphones off at that.

You were sitting on a bench, talking on the phone. You were laughing, and for one cliche moment, Yoongi’s heart stopped. Maybe it was the sunlight hitting you just right, or maybe it was your (frankly contagious) laughter, but he was pretty sure you were almost too pretty to exist. 

His hands moved before he could think too much of it, and before he knew it he had taken a picture of you.

There was no sign that you had noticed, and Yoongi almost felt ashamed at the action. He decided to approach you, show you the picture and then ask if he could keep it. However, you stood up the moment he took a step forward. You left, never to be seen again.

Well, not really.

You were a friend of a friend who then introduced the two of you to each other. He was overjoyed of course, but as much as Yoongi wanted to convince himself that it had nothing to do with how pretty you were and everything to do with showing you the picture, it was definitely because he was so smitten with you that he actually forgot his name when you introduced yourself.

(And that day, Yoongi decided that it was love at first sight. Or second. Whatever. He was in love, anyways.)

-

It’s at your birthday party when he decides. He’s going to tell you. He’s going to confess.

Maybe not now, not tonight, but someday.

You look stunning, he decides. You were wearing this red off-shoulder dress which fell to your knees, and some heels which Yoongi knew must be hell on earth for you. You never did like heels.

Your apartment was filled with your friends, some from college and some from work, he deducts, as he meets eyes with a couple of strangers. He smiles awkwardly and turns back to his drink, searching for a familiar face when⁠—

“Yoongi!” You call out happily. The stiff excuse for a smile he had plastered on his face melted into something more genuine as he faced you. “Hello, flower.”

Your already rosy cheeks flush more from the endearment and Yoongi chuckles. He used to tease you about your love for plants and wanted to give you a nickname related to it. Unfortunately, calling you ‘cactus’ just didn’t have that air of lovesickness that he was aiming for, so ‘flower’ would have to do.

You pull him into a hug and he grumbles for a moment, pretending to hate it. You know that he loves hugs, though, and you just laugh and hold him tighter. He can only hope you can’t tell how hard his heart was pounding.

When you pull away, he misses your warmth almost immediately. “How are you?” You grin. “Enjoying the party so far?”

He lets out a small laugh. “You know, I should be the one asking you that, birthday girl. Although, I am surprised you went for a party this year instead of the usual dinner.”

“Actually…” you pause, smiling sheepishly. “I didn’t want a party either. Jeongguk just thought it would be nice since it could double as a little celebration for my promotion as well.”

Ah. The promotion. Yoongi remembers when you had just graduated college, desperately trying to get into the industry you wanted. You used to cry over every rejection email, but now…  You were doing great, and he couldn’t be more proud of you. Regardless, he grins at your admission.

“Knew it.” He teases, and you mock grumble at him before smiling again, looking away. Meanwhile, Yoongi couldn’t take his eyes off of you. He could only pray that no one could tell he was giving you heart eyes.

“Babe!” Jeongguk’s voice cuts through the comfortable silence between you two. Yoongi can’t tell if it’s just his personal bias against the guy, but he was really fucking irritating. Add that to the fact that you used to call Yoongi ‘babe’ before Jeongguk started calling you that, and Yoongi was starting to get more than a little pissed. Another thing to add to the list of things Jeongguk had stolen from him.

But were you ever his to begin with? A voice in Yoongi’s mind whispers.

Shut up, he hisses back.

“Cake time!” Jeongguk calls out again, and you shoot Yoongi an apologetic grin as you leave his side and approach your golden retriever of a boyfriend.

People begin to gather around you as Jeongguk holds the cake for you with the candles lit up. You’re grinning, and while Yoongi doesn’t sing along, he is staring at you with the most lovesick look in his eyes that he’s sure if anyone were to see him, they would know.

His mind begins to drift as he imagines a world where he’s the one holding your cake. Maybe you would smear some icing on his cheek after blowing the candles out. Would you two be the absolutely cheesy couple everyone pretended to hate but were actually jealous of? Maybe. And you know what, Yoongi would actually love that. He would⁠—

He hears Jeongguk say your name, and when he focuses, Jeongguk is down on one knee and his heart falls.

“...you are the best thing to ever happen to me. You don’t just make me a better person, you make me want to be a better person for me. For you. I wake up in the morning and I want to cry because I feel so goddamn lucky that you chose me. Out of all the people in this universe, you chose me. You saw me, and you took care of me, and you loved me. You gave me the world, (Y/N), but I want to give you the universe.” Jeongguk pauses, and even from a distance, Yoongi can see that the younger man has tears in his eyes.

So does Yoongi. His ears are ringing, and all he can do is watch as Jeongguk asks the million dollar question:

“(Y/N), will you marry me?”

SIlence, and then:

“Yes!”

His heart shatters into a million pieces.

-

Min Yoongi was a coward, that much he knew. 

After five years of loving you silently (and multiple times of flirting with each other), he was done. Time to move on. It’s been half a decade, and he was never sure if you felt the same way. Maybe you did, but he didn’t want to risk losing you.

So he did the thing most people would do after deciding to move on: get absolutely shitfaced at the nearest bar.

Truth be told, even now, three and a half years later, he did not remember what happened that night. He assumes he had a one night stand, if the woman he woke up to was any evidence. 

What he did not expect was you barging into his apartment, demanding to see him because you needed to tell him⁠—

What you wanted to tell him, Yoongi would never know, because when you asked if the girl in the bathroom was his girlfriend, he had the stupid idea to lie and tell you that yes, she is my girlfriend. Just made it official last night.

He was too damn proud of himself being able to “move on” from you to see you deflate. In a span of seconds, you went from excited to the verge of tears. When you heard the bathroom door open, you hurriedly excused yourself and booked it out of his apartment.

What Yoongi didn’t know was that you were going to confess.

But as you power walk out of his apartment complex, you come to the conclusion, that maybe, just maybe, he’s just not into you. And you were merely boo boo the fool.

After that, texts between you and Yoongi were sparse. You stopped hanging out. You stopped sending each other memes at three in the morning. You just stopped… seeing each other.

By the time Yoongi pulled his head out of his ass and sucked it up, it had been a year, and you had a sparkly new boyfriend named Jeon Jeongguk.

-

Yoongi decided that this was, quite possibly, the worst year of his life. Nothing like watching the love of your life get engaged to someone else, and then be forced to watch her marry someone else months afterwards to really rub the salt in.

But then again, you aren’t Mrs. Jeon. Yet, anyways, Yoongi thinks bitterly. In less than twenty four hours, he will truly have lost you, and this time, there’s no getting you back.

And so, like the genius that he was, he decides to call you. In the middle of the night. To the local park. Why? Honestly, Yoongi had no idea. He just wanted, needed to see you one last time.

When you arrive, the park is silent. You look adorable, Yoongi thinks fondly, but even that innocent thought was enough to make tears well up in his eyes. God, he was so in love with you it hurt.

“(Y/N),” he begins once you’re close enough to hear. “I need to tell you something⁠—”

“Yoongi,” you whisper. You look pained, he notes.”Don’t⁠—”

“Don’t what?” He cuts you off, scoffing. The tears begin to fall. “Don’t say it? You don’t want me to tell you about how I’ve been in love with you my whole life? You don’t want me to tell you how much I wish it was me you’re marrying tomorrow?” He wipes at his tears angrily. “What do you want me to do?” 

He breathes in raggedly, looking up to the sky in desperation. When he looks back at you, your heart breaks for him.

“Flower, I can’t.” He begs. “I can’t let you go. I can’t lose you. Not again. Please⁠—” A sob tears through his throat. “I love you.”

He feels your hands cup his face, wiping at the wetness on his skin. He’s almost grateful that he can’t see you through his tears, because he knows you’re crying too. He hated seeing you cry.

“Yoongi,” you say softly. “I love you too, but we can’t. We’ve been dancing around this for almost a decade, babe. Our time has passed, Yoongi⁠⁠.” Your hands have moved, one on his waist and another on the back of his neck. When he sees your tears, he finally breaks. He collapses into your arms, sobbing, grasping at you desperately. 

When you speak next, your voice is muffled as you comb through his hair with one hand and pull him closer with the other. “I will always love you, Yoongi. Always.” You say fiercely, surely, and Yoongi almost wants to believe you. “But I love Jeongguk too. He…” You pause, trying to find the right words. “He’s the one for me.” You admit, and Yoongi hates it so much because you were the one for him. 

The two of you slowly sink onto the ground, with your arms still around him as he cries. For losing you, for being too late, and for what could have been. His sobs echo in the empty park and you cry with him.

When his sobs die down and his breathing gets calmer, he pulls away from your embrace. When your arms fall to the sides, he moves closer to you, pressing his forehead to yours, eyes closed. “I love you,” he whispers, and he’s so close you can feel his breath on your face. “I will always love you.”

When your eyes flutter open, his eyes meet yours. 

Around you, the snow begins to fall. 

“I…” You breathe out. “I should go. Jeongguk’s waiting for me at home.”

He nods slowly. “Okay,” he whispers. “Okay. Get home safely.”

You nod and stand up, offering a hand. He shakes his head and stands up on his own.

No words are said.

You nod, and turn to leave. When your figure disappears into the night, Yoongi lets his tears fall once more.

“Goodbye, flower,” he whispers into the night. The wind blows.

I love you.

[miraculousandbts]

J-Hope | Grounded

Summary: You got grounded, but your best friend is to the rescue. He asked you to sneak out, but you fell on top of him.

Pairing: Hoseok X Reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: y/n almost falls out of the window. I think that’s it. You were grounded. For a day. The day you and your best friend Hoseok had decided to go to your secret place, which you both did once a week, on Saturday nights. Both your parents knew about it, and were okay with it as long as both of you were in bed before one. But neither of you ever went to your own houses, planning last minute sleepovers every time.

Today was Saturday, but as stated before, you were grounded. Why? Because just two hours ago, you and your parents were sitting in the principal's office. You had punched a guy in the face, effectively breaking his nose. He had become a whiny baby and actually went to complain to the principal. Thankfully, your principal was considerate, and heard your side of the story too.

In your defence, he had been hitting on you for the last week, despite Hoseok's threats of breaking his bones if he ever chase near you again. But him trying to touch your waist to pull you closer to him was the last straw. You had given him a very strong punch, while the cracking noise of his nose breaking echoed in the empty hallways. You didn't know how he knew when you'd be going to the washroom in the middle of the class.

Your parents had been called. While your parents and principal both agreed that hitting him was right and it was self defence, the fact that you broke his nose did not sit well with them. You couldn't see anything wrong in that. They also discussed your apparent anger issues, leading to right now; you sitting alone on your bed, being bored to death. At least your parents didn't take your phone away.

Your phone rung. Knowing it wouldn't be anyone except Hoseok, you picked up without seeing the caller ID. "Hey, Hobi."

"Y/n. Please tell me you talked them out of it. Please." He sighed annoyingly. Ever since this going out in the night tradition had started, neither of you had never missed a day. Sure, many a times you or him were late, the result of actually falling asleep before going out, but missing a day? Never.

After your parents had told you to go collect your things as they would wait in the car, you met a very worried Hoseok at your locker. "Oh, thank god you're okay. Where were you?!" He had hugged you tightly. As big of an idiot as he was, he was also very protective and touchy with you. You wouldn't be lying if you said that you had developed a small crush on the cheery guy.

You had explained the whole situation at him, while he got ready to beat the guy to death. But you couldn't get his proud grin out of your head when you told him you broke the dude's nose. You also couldn't forget both of you laughing when you told him how he had started crying and whimpering, holding his broken nose like it was the most precious thing in the world.

"I couldn't. I'm still grounded. I hate life." You grumbled back.

"You think? What are we going to do?"

"Dunno. I'm bummed though."

"Me too, cupcake, me too." He often called you cupcake, because of your very unhealthy obsession with cupcakes. He would gift you a cupcake for your birthday, and it would make your day. To you, it always sounded intimate, like you were his girlfriend or something, but you could only wish.

You threw yourself on your bed, phone still near your ear, sighing loudly. "Hobi!!!" You whined like a kid. "What do I do, I'm boreddddd!" You stretched out 'bored' a little too much.

"Uh, I don't know? Complete you homework or something, and search for online PDFs for books. Yeah, you do that." He started unsurely but finished with confidence. "Ugh, homework!" You scrunched your nose, even though he couldn't see you.

"I know, I know. You know what, let's play a round."

You excitedly sat up and hung up, giving him a indication that you would play a round. He was referring to a mobile game you both had fallen in love with, and you often played together. Usually in the middle of classes though. Cue cheeky grin.

And that's how you spent you day; playing games with Hoseok, reading new books, and half-heartedly completing your homework, only going out of your room to have dinner.

*****

It was around eleven. Like always, your parents had gone to sleep early. They owned a bakery which they opened early in the morning, as many working people liked to stop by for a snack or usually coffee. You were getting ready for bed, still sad about not being able to go with Hoseok. But then he texted you.

Y/n! Get your head outta the gutter and yourself outta your bed and meet me outside!

...did you forget I'm grounded?

Just sneak out cupcake.

Sorry Hobi, no can do.

If you won't sneak out, I'll climb up to your window, and personally haul your fat ass up my shoulders and yeet you out your window!

What's up with you today?? *eyebrow raise*

*sigh* nothing. Do you know how lonely it feels without you here?

Trust me, Hobi, I know. I couldn't even go outside like you.

I may have been so bored that I stayed up in my room too...

*facepalm* you're a certified idiot, but I love you.

Love ya too, now COME OUTSIDE!

Okay, okay, jeez ,fine! Let the girl live, will ya?!

Nope! *grin*

Smh...wait for me, I'll take some time.

K.

You grinned. Hoseok really was the best. Now the problem was how were you going to sneak out. You knew that he was standing just below your window, and you peeked your head out. There he was, looking up, knowing you'll wave. And you did. He returned it, and tapped his wrist, asking you to hurry up. You gave him a thumbs up and stared thinking. You couldn't go out the back door, it was locked.

The front door made a lot of noise. The only options left were the windows.

You grinned to yourself. You were planning to do what Hoseok had jokingly said he'd do. Except the yeeting part. You were absolutely not, under any circumstances, going to throw yourself out a window. Now the only problem was how we're you going to reach down. You decided to take the risk and climb down.

You took your jacket, and threw it down, knowing he would collect it, and be very confused. You pocketed your phone, concluding you didn't need anything else. You both could go without snacks for a night. Carefully placing your foot outside, you ducked down and took your head out, as it seemed the most logical at that time. Holding on to the top of the window, you took your other foot out, making sure you were keeping it at the right place firmly. You took the chance to glance down, and saw a wide eyed Hoseok, with a slacked jaw. It almost made you want to laugh, but you knew if you did, you'd got tumbling down and break a few bones.

Focusing on the task at hand, you started moving. You glanced down when you were halfway there and saw Hoseok with a very worried expression, standing just beneath you, ready to catch if anything were to happen. When he asked you to sneak out, this is definitely not what he meant.

Slowly, you went down again. It was the last step. But you lost your footing. You were so startled, you couldn't even scream. Some part of your brain, which was aware of the surroundings, was thankful you hadn't screamed. Fortunately for you, and unfortunately for Hoseok, you fell right on top of him, crushing him beneath you.

Now, you wouldn't say you were the lightest girl around, and while you weren't fat or unfit in any way, you weighed more than one would think. And because of this, you were more worried about Hoseok than yourself. In fact, you weren't worried about yourself at all, knowing you were absolutely fine.

"What the— ?!" You looked up as he started speaking. As soon as your eyes met his, you both stopped in your tracks. You were so close to him. So close. Your lips were just a centimetre apart, at most.

Neither of you knew what was happening, but the next thing you knew, your lips were on his, kissing him. And he kissed back. It was short and sweet. After parting, you both stared at each other, looking into the depths of each other's eyes. "I like you, y/n. A lot."

"Me too, Hobi." You didn't know what else to say to his confession. One of his brilliant smiles spread on his face. They always made you feel giddy inside. You smiled too. He leaned in for another kiss, this one more like a short peck. "You're still crushing me, though." He gently, but teasingly, raised his eyebrow. Your eyes widened. You cursed under your breath, and hurried to stand up. He got up too, and brushed himself. "Don't worry, I'm okay." He reassured you.

Taking your hand in his, he pulled you. "Come on, we only have an hour or so, because I still have time only till one." You both ran for some time, and then walked. "You know, you could've just come down and taken the kitchen window to come out." You stopped in your tracks. He wasn't wrong. You wouldn't have fallen on him, and you had used the kitchen window as a door thousands of times before, so you would have been doing something familiar.

"But then again, if you hadn't fallen on me, I wouldn't have been able to do this." He smiled and captured your lips in his. "Be my girlfriend." You smiled and simply nodded.

Let's just say, the next day, both your parents grounded both of you for sneaking out. But at least they didn't take your phones...

[sunlightdances]

take my hand (when you can’t see the light)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader Rating: PG-13 for like, 2 swears. Summary: Dean plays the knight in shining armor when you meet him by chance. Turns out you’ll meet him several more times. Everything happens for a reason, right? Author’s Note: This was supposed to be posted on Valentine’s Day, but we all know how I am with deadlines. Have some fluffy Dean to make up for it. Last year’s Valentine’s fic is here, but is unrelated and you don’t need to read that to like this one! Please excuse any tense issues - I changed it back to second person after a read through, so there might be some errors. Please don’t repost my work on any other sites including Wattpad, AO3, or other archiving sites without my permission! I don’t own Dean, Supernatural, or any other related characters. I also don’t own “Forever on Your Side” by Needtobreathe, which I used for the title.

It’s freezing outside, and your car is running on fumes.

You curse yourself for not having the forethought to get gas a few states ago when it was relatively warmer, and it just adds to the irritation buzzing through your veins.

Pulling up next to the last available gas pump, you jump out of the car and swipe your card. The machine beeps, and tells you your card can’t be read. Your stomach drops when you try to think about how much money is left in your account. You swear you had enough to get through this trip.

You swipe again, and this time it says, please see the cashier. “Oh, fuck you,” you groan, and the person on the other side of the pump from you looks up, startled.

“Sorry, not you.” You mutter, and feel your face burning as you quickly turn away and head inside to figure out why your card isn’t working.

Inside, you give some sob story about driving across the country, but the teenager behind the counter clearly doesn’t care. You don’t blame him, but it doesn’t help your situation. That’s until a hand sneaks around you from behind and places a credit card on the counter.

“Put it on this one along with pump eight.” A deep voice says, and you stiffen when you feel a distinctly male presence at your back.

“You don’t have to do that--” You start to say, looking over your shoulder to see the man from outside behind you. He backs up a few steps and you feel like you can breathe again.

“It’s no big deal.” He shrugs.

“I have money,” you blurt, wincing when you realize how defensive and stupid you sound.

The corners of his mouth quirk up in an amused smile. “I’m sure you do. Just think of it as me paying it forward.”

The kid behind the counter has already run the stranger’s card through the machine for both of you, so you have no choice but to stand there awkwardly until he tells you you’re all set.

“Well… thanks.” You say, and turn to head out the door quickly, trying not to prolong this embarrassment more than you have to. You want to get back on the road and this is already a longer pitstop than you planned it being.

Once your car is filled up, you sit back in the driver’s seat and check your phone. Ten unread text messages that you delete without reading, five missed calls, and a notice from your bank that your card has been put on hold due to suspicious activity.

You groan - you never even thought to let the bank know you were taking a trip, you just hauled ass out of town the first minute you could. Didn’t even stop to think of the consequences. You can feel tears welling up in your eyes as you struggle to think what you can do - you have a small amount of cash but not enough to get you where you’re going. The bank is closed by now, so even if you call them you won’t get your card turned back on until the morning.

You have absolutely no idea what to do.

A gentle knock on your window brings you out of your daze, and your eyes meet a pair of bright green ones, twin pools of concern. He gestures for you to roll down the window, and you do, but only halfway. He’s a stranger, after all.

“Are you alright?”

You huff a laugh. “I’m the farthest thing from alright. But I’ll be okay. Thanks again for the gas, by the way.”

He smiles gently. “I know how that goes. And it was nothing, really. Here--” he holds out a to-go cup of coffee, “You look like you might need this more than I do.”

“Thanks…”

“Dean.”

“Thanks, Dean.” You take the coffee from him and when his fingers brush yours briefly, you feel it zip up your arm. So cliche. You sort of hate yourself for thinking about it. “I have to go,” you say quietly.

He clears his throat. “Sure, sure.” He looks down at his feet awkwardly. “Drive safe.”

You watch him go to the other side of the gas pump and get in a sleek, black car. You sigh to yourself before putting your car in drive and hitting the road.

You give kudos to yourself that you only look in your rearview once.

.

.

.

After Dean’s been on the road for a few hours, he realizes he’s following the same route the girl from the gas station is, and he feels like a creep.

You were cute, but he tells himself to stop thinking about you. You’re clearly going through something, and he’s never going to see you again.

Even so, he wonders what you were running from.

Physically shaking his head to stop himself from letting his mind wander, he calls his brother. “Any update?” He asks as soon as Sam gets on the phone.

“No change. How long until you’re here?”

“Six or seven hours if I don’t stop.”

Sam sighs. Dean can tell he’s tired, though he knows his brother will never admit it. “There’s no rush, Dean. We’re just-- waiting. Take a break, get some sleep.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “I’ll see you soon. Call me if anything changes.”

He tosses the phone in the passenger seat after he hangs up and pushes the image of Sam alone at a hospital out of his mind, and pushes it even farther away knowing it’s Jody they’re waiting on, Jody who didn’t even get hurt from a job, but was in a car accident.

Surgery went perfectly, but until she wakes up, they don’t know much else.

It’s a shitty way to spend Valentine’s Day.

He puts it out of his mind the best he can and concentrates on the road. That’s when he notices a familiar car on the side of the road, flashers on.

He frowns. He paid for your gas himself, so he knows you’re not out of gas. Unless something else is wrong with the car. Weighing it for a few seconds, he pulls over behind you, not too close, and tells himself to stop overthinking it before he gets out.

Her door is already open by the time he gets close, and he sends you a small smile when you notice him.

“I just want you to know I’m not following you,” he says, and then quickly continues, “and I know that’s exactly what someone following you would say.”

You laugh, but it’s a little watery. “You seem to show up right when I need help, though.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I-- the car is fine. I just needed to stop for a few minutes.”

He sees the tear tracks on your cheeks but doesn’t say anything, doesn’t want to do anything to make you more upset.

“Valentine’s Day really blows.” You say finally, and Dean laughs, your words echoing his own thoughts.

“Definitely.” Dean opens his mouth to keep talking but his phone rings, shattering the moment. “Sorry, hang on--” He digs his phone out of his pocket, seeing Sam’s name flashing on the screen. “Yeah?”

“She’s awake. Going to pull through.”

The relief Dean feels is physical. He lets out a sigh and the tension seeps off him. “Good. That’s-- kick ass, dude. Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

He hangs up and looks back to you, an apology on his face.

“I have to go. If you’re okay…”

“I’ll be fine, Dean. Thanks again.” You say, a little sad maybe, but the sorrow that was on your face when he first saw you on the side of the road isn’t there anymore. You tell him your name, “-- by the way, just in case we run into each other again,” and then with a wink, you’re back in your car.

Dean is a little awestruck, but with another laugh to himself shaking his head, he gets back in the Impala and continues on, finding himself wishing the passenger seat wasn’t empty.

.

.

.

You make it across the state again before you stop for food. Only a bit of cash left, you decide to go to the closest grocery store and get something from the ready-to-go section instead of going the fast food route.

You feel a little better. You’re still getting texts and ignoring calls from your now ex-boyfriend, but you’re finding it easier and easier to press the reject button every time. Your heart doesn’t hurt quite as much.

Digging through your wallet for cash as you walk through the doors of the store, you run right into a solid mass of a person, an oof leaving your mouth as you regain your balance.

A rough voice says your name, and panic rushes through you before you realize who it is.

“Dean?”

“Now who’s stalking who?” He asks, tone light, corners of his mouth twitching.

“This is getting a little weird, dude.”

“You’re telling me,” he agrees, and your eyes shift to the flowers in his hand.

For some reason you feel a little bitter about it. It’s Valentine’s Day. Of course he’s buying flowers for someone. A guy who looks like that? Who buys strangers coffee and gas? Definitely not single.

“Late gift pickup?” You ask, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

He scratches the back of his neck with his free hand, “For a friend, yeah. She was in an accident. On my way to see her.”

“Oh,” you feel like a total jerk. “Sorry to hear that.”

“She’s going to be okay. But thank you.”

An awkward silence settles over the two of you, but this time it’s your phone that breaks the silence. “Oh, for fuck’s sake--” you say, pulling your phone out just to turn it off. You’re so tired of this.

“Someone special?” He asks, wry, and feels relieved when you laugh, even though it’s more distressed than anything else.

“Unfortunately.” You don’t know why, but you feel like telling him everything. You didn’t tell anyone before you left except your roommate, so she wouldn’t think you were murdered or something. “Came to my boyfriend’s to surprise him for Valentine’s. Turns out he found someone else to spend the day with.”

Dean winces. “What a dick.”

“I packed up pretty much everything I owned and just… left. I moved to that town because of him. I had my job because of him. I just had to get out of there.” You swallow hard, feeling like you’re going to cry again. “I have no idea where I’m going to go and my card got turned off. I’ve got a hundred dollars to my name.” You sigh, meeting his eyes. “Sorry - you have a friend literally in the hospital. I shouldn’t be complaining.”

Dean’s eyes are so intense as he takes in what you’ve told him. You wonder if he knows he’s got this effect on people.

“Come with me.” He says. He too, looks a little surprised.

“What?”

“You can stay with me. Since you don’t have anywhere else to go. I just have to stop at the hospital first, if you don’t mind going with me--” He shakes his head, “Sorry, I-- we don’t know each other. But I have a house, a big house, and there’s extra room if you need it. At least until you’ve got some cash again.”

You hesitate, of course - he’s a stranger. But-- something tells you that you can trust him, and you have no other options, really.

“Okay.”

Dean smiles. “Okay.”

.

.

.

This is probably, easily, one of the stupidest things Dean has ever done.

Sam is going to give him so much shit, but as he looks in his rearview to check that you’re still behind him, he can’t help but smile when you give him a little wave.

You pull into the parking space next to him at the hospital, and he gestures for you to follow him through the large double doors at the entrance.

Inside, he finds the room number Sam sent him, and knocks lightly on the door when he gets there.

“Dean,” Jody says quietly from the bed, her voice a little rough.

“Hi,” He says, grinning at her. “Glad to see you’re awake.”

“Sam said you drove all night to get here.”

“Was finishing up--” He stops, remembering your presence at his back, “-- a job. Otherwise I would have been here sooner.”

Sam clears his throat. “Got anything else you want to share?”

You snicker, and Dean bites back his smile. God, what is it about you that makes him feel lighter than he has in years?

“Hi,” you say softly, introducing yourself.

“She needs somewhere to stay for a few days.” Dean says, hoping his tone is firm enough that he’s not going to get shit about this from his brother.

After some small talk and a few pointed looks from Jody, she announces that she’s tired and that Sam and Dean should go get some rest. Dean turns to you.

“I’ll meet you in the parking lot,” you say, “too many hours on the road.”

Dean is the last one to lean in and give Jody a hug, and after a second’s hesitation, he grabs a single flower out of the bouquet he got her.

“Smart guy,” Jody whispers, and Dean rolls his eyes playfully.

.

.

.

You can’t believe this place.

This is where Dean lives. With his brother. This giant, amazing place.

You have a thousand questions, and Dean promised he’d answer a few, but more than anything you need to take a nap.

You do, and when you wake up, there’s a single red rose on the table by your bed.

Happy Valentine’s Day - DW

A giddy, schoolgirl-like feeling comes over you as you read the note, and you find yourself feeling excited and hopeful for the first time since you left your house in a heartbroken daze. It feels like years ago.

When you find your way to the kitchen and see Dean and his brother there waiting for you, near identical smiles on their faces, you start to think you could get used to this.

The unknown doesn’t feel as scary as it did yesterday.

[mypassionfortrash]

Quarantine dream: day one.

It’s the Great Quarantine of 2020, and you and Roger find yourselves cooped up together. Will you get on each others’ nerves, or do you love each other enough to weather the storm? Warnings: Mentions of really weird sex stuff (as a joke), strictly 18+ Notes: New fic. It’s a bit on the nose, but if we don’t laugh, we’ll cry! I’m going to try and update this daily. Full disclaimer, it was written quickly and might be very disjointed.

Day one.

The missus is working from home now. We’re essentially going to be housebound for the foreseeable. She’s already forbidden me from revving the Porsche too loudly in the garage, coming into her ‘designated work space’ between the hours of nine and five, and trying to help her with the cooking and cleaning. Apparently I’m ‘getting in the way.’  I’ve been cast out to my ‘man cave’ during the daytime... and god help me if I leave to scavenge for snacks or even a cuppa!

Which one lives, which one dies, we’ll see! I have a feeling only one of us is getting out of here alive.

In other news, John sent me a video of him and Ronnie in Tesco. Trolley piled high with TP. Now I have the overwhelming urge to brave the dreaded Coronavirus and get the shopping in a couple of days early.

I’m clearly going to go mad, aren’t I?

One more hour of work. That’s what you told yourself as you settled back at your makeshift desk in the spare room. One more hour and then you could get the dinner on. 

Working from home was harder than you imagined. Not having the commute was lovely, but only having contact with Roger – as much as you loved him – was enough to drive anyone to the edge of sanity.

And it was only day one.

Hunching over your laptop, you scrolled through the emails that had piled up during your tea break, now wishing you could just have a meeting. Times had changed and you didn’t have time for 800 word emails about your company’s next rebrand.

Soon enough, something out in the garden caught your eye.

Roger emerged from the garage, his white t-shirt spattered in dirt and grime from a day of tinkering with his collection of four-wheeled loves. He moved swiftly, shaking his head as he looked down at his phone.

You heard the back door slam closed and his footsteps trudge upstairs. Silently praying he wasn’t coming to bother you, you counted his footsteps in your head, imagining every door that lined the hall.

“You’re never going to believe this, darling!” Roger called.

Your eyes burst open the second he entered the room.

Roger leaned over you and thrust his phone in your face, so close you could barely see what was on the screen. “Look at John!” He screeched. “Look at him!”

“What am I looking at?”

Roger’s voice kept going up an octave every sentence until it made you wince. “The bastard’s cleared out Tesco! Look at his bloody trolley!”

Huffing and rolling your eyes, you turned around, going nose to nose with him. “How many kids does he have?”

Roger quietened down. “I don’t know,” he shrugged, “a lot?”

“Well, I don’t thi–”

“You’re not telling me that’s their weekly shop though. They’re stockpiling toilet roll! It doesn’t make you shit yourself! I’ve got a good mind to go down to Tesco and–”

“And what?”

Roger’s attitude came in peaks and troughs but now he looked utterly sheepish, sinking on to the edge of the bed and batting his lashes. “Maybe do the shopping a couple of days earlier? If you want.”

You sighed and leaned your head on the back of your chair, allowing your eyes to wander towards his. You couldn’t say no to him – he made it impossible for you. “One more hour of work and I’ll come with you to supervise.”

Roger’s eyes narrowed as a broad smile lifted his features. “Good.”

As Roger rose to his feet, you reached out to grab the hem of his shirt, pulling him into you. Your lips met with an audible sigh and a fleeting kiss. “And for the love of god, jump in the shower and change your clothes.”

“Why?” Roger smirked. “We’re only going out during the apocalypse.”

An hour and a clean shirt later, you and Roger bundled into the Range Rover to embark on the five-minute drive to Tesco, completely unsure of what you’d find when you arrived.

The radio droned on in the background, covering the latest developments from the Prime Minister’s daily press conferences. Roger listened on with disdain as he drove – he never had much time for politics at the best of times – but he still listened intently. The situation was getting serious enough to worry him. 

Boris bumbled through the airwaves but his message was clear: stay home.

“It’s what we should be doing,” you sighed, leaning forward to reach into your handbag.

“What?”

You took out a box of latex gloves. You, being the sensible and prepared one, always made sure you had some in the house. Blowing into one and slipping it on your hand, you mumbled your response. “Staying home.”

“What are those for?” Roger asked, glancing over at you snapping on the other glove.

“We’re being careful. But you can’t guarantee everyone else is.”

Roger’s hand found your thigh and gave it a reassuring squeeze as the car spun around the corner into Tesco’s car park.

Neither of you were sure of what you were expecting. 

Chaos? Crowds? Cars everywhere? 

You and Roger sat in silence as the car thudded to a halt right at the front door. There wasn’t a soul in sight.

“This is creepy,” Roger stated. “Bet we’ll be going in to empty shelves.”

“It’s going to be ok,” you said, jumping out and heading towards the door. “Remember the shopping bags in the boot!”

You could hear Roger groan as he retraced his steps. “This is why I hate going shopping with you,” he grumbled, fumbling through the boot for the almighty Bag of Bags. “We’re rich enough,” he wittered, slamming the boot. “We can get plastic carriers.”

From the corner of your eye, you could see him stomping back to you as you grabbed a trolley. A small one, so Roger wouldn’t succumb to temptation.

“…All because some little Swedish girl’s bloody whining about the planet getting warmer… not a bad thing if you ask me.”

“What are you droning on about?” you asked, grabbing the Bag of Bags from him. You hoped that putting them in the small trolley would lessen the amount of space available to him too.

“Greta’s probably having a fucking field day,” Roger mumbled. “Us using those bloody sacks for the shopping. No cars on the road.”

“It’s not a bad thing. We’ve been in London how many years? And when have we ever been able to get a proper breath until now? I quite like the lack of traffic.”

“Make the most of being able to breathe, darling. Corona’s a bitch, I’ve heard.” 

The sight of the baron wasteland in front of you stopped you in your tracks. No people, no food, just rows and rows of empty shelves. 

“I have a list,” you said meekly, taking a crumpled piece of paper out of your pocket.

Roger laughed. “Good luck with that.” He barged past you, peering over his shoulder. “I’ll take the cleaning stuff, fruit and veg, and toiletries. You check the rest.”

Empty supermarkets were strange places. Flickering lights and empty shelves, the only sound came from the creaking wheels of your trolley as you snaked the aisles for something – anything – from your shopping list. The only items  left were either expensive or things you’d never be able to cobble a meal out of. Bread and pasta were non-existent in this liminal space, as were eggs and flour, so you couldn’t even make those from scratch. All you managed to find were two sorry looking ready meals, a bottle of gin and a tin of chopped tomatoes – none of which were on your optimistic list.

Roger didn’t do much better, either. He seemed to spring out of nowhere with armfuls of Bayliss and Harding soap at a fiver a pop, a two-litre bottle of bleach and one measly aubergine.

“What are we going to do with that?” you asked.

“What, the aubergine?” he smirked, waggling his eyebrows.”That gin might loosen me up enough.”

“Oh, fuck off! When have we eaten aubergine, Roger!”

“Well,” Roger began, grabbing the trolley, “it’s like that nature man from the telly says. Adapt, overcome… and...”

You glared up at him, “and?”

“I don’t even remember.”

“This is dire.”

Having checked out your scant supermarket haul, you and Roger embarked on the drive home, trying to figure out what you could do with the food you had found.

“I’ve always wanted to shove an aubergine up my arse,” Roger huffed.

“Why’d you think I kept these gloves? I’ve seen the weird shit you’ve been watching,” You mused. “Oh! Moussaka! We still have mince!” you squeaked, bobbing up and down in your seat.

“Kill the mood, why don’t you,” Roger laughed. “But yeah, moussaka could work.”

“I think this apocalypse thing might just turn out ok after all.”

[aniray]

Where You Least Expect It... Part 3

Part 3 of 5

@maryams-things

~*~

Day 103

He shouldn’t have let her go back. He should have sent someone. Or gone with her. But Lizzie never should have gone back to her apartment by herself. He leaned back in his chair, eyes tracking her every move. Her eyes were red, like she’d been crying. And there was a bruise peeking out from under the sleeve of her sweater. Wasn’t there that morning. Wasn’t there when the three of them went to the doctor, either. 

“You can stop watching me like that. It’s nothing.”

But it wasn’t nothing. She’d been living on his property for almost three and a half months. He’d sat at this table and had dinner with her more times than he cared to count. They’d talked. He’d seen bits and pieces of her. She’d seen bits and pieces of him. And even if none of that had happened, she was carrying his fucking child. 

And some prick had laid hands on her. 

Turning from the cabinet, Lizzie brought over a glass of whiskey and sat down. She didn’t give it to him. She kept the glass cradled between her hands, like holding it together was holding her together. He watched her tilt the glass one way, then the other. It should have bothered him that he knew what it meant. He shouldn’t know that was what she did when her head was in a dark place. There was a lot he shouldn’t know about Lizzie Stark.

“He was just mad.” Tommy’s fist tightened against his leg. “Doesn’t like to lose. Guess he thought…” Tommy knew what he’d thought. He’d thought that since she’d come back by herself, no one would care what happened to her. He’d thought that the rich man with the guards had found another cunt to fill. “Doesn’t matter. Not the first sore wrist I’ve had in my life.”

He hated that she said shit like that. Like it was her due because she’d lived it before. “He’s been dealt with. Won’t bother you again.” Her eyes finally left the whiskey and met his. A crease formed between her brows and her lips dipped into a frown. “Stop thinking. He got what he deserved. That’s the end of it.” It wasn’t.  He still had to pay the judge, and talk to the warden. But it was the end of it for Lizzie. 

She slid the glass to him. He took it, tilted it one way then the other. Watched Lizzie’s eyes follow the movement of the liquor. “My mom…She’d always dig her nails in. Real deep, like she wanted my blood.” He forced himself to keep the glass moving. “She was always hissing at me. ‘Fucking useless, Lizbeth’. ‘ Should have got rid of you like I wanted’. And always, her nails would be digging in.” 

He watched her leave him. Watched her slip back into the past, watched her become that girl from before. And he found himself talking- trying to bring her back to him. “Arthur Sr. hit Ada for breathing too loud, once. She was sick, couldn’t breathe through her nose. It pissed him off. So he hauled off at smacked her.” He could still see the shocked look on his sister’s face. Could still remember how still the room had gotten. “I went to help her off the floor. He had me by the throat before I got to her. ‘Fuck you’re doing? I put her on the floor, she stays on the fucking floor’.” He remembered how John, twelve years old, had stuck his thumb in his mouth. “Had rings around my neck for a week. The rest of my bruises you couldn’t see.”

Lizzie’s eyes found his. The green in them was dull in a way he wasn’t used to. But she was with him. She was there in his guest house with him. Her hand slid across the table. She tapped her finger against the back of his hand. There and then gone. “Shit way to grow up.” He nodded. She leaned back in her seat, hand falling to her stomach- still mostly flat. “This one won’t grow up like that. This kid’ll get bruises from tripping over untied shoes and shit. Yeah?”

“Yeah. No fucking beatings and no sharp fucking nails.” Her eyes were watery, but Tommy knew she wouldn’t cry. Not in front of him. Not because of this. She was tough, Lizzie. She was tough and she was good. He picked up his glass and tossed back his drink. It burned going down, but he liked the burn. A pain of his choosing. His phone beeped. It was time for him to meet Grace. “You know what to do. Ice it, don’t use it too much.” Lizzie rolled her eyes, but there was a smile playing at her lips. 

He stood up and left her sitting at the table he knew she only used with him. He got in his car, pulled out of the drive. He thought about what she’d told him. He thought about what he’d said. He’d never told anyone else that story. Never told anyone much of anything about his childhood. Not even Grace knew. But to get Lizzie out of her own head… His chest went tight. He stopped at the end of his driveway. Ran his hand down his face, thumb and fingers pressing into his eyes. Dropping his hand his eyes went to the rearview mirror. Went back to Lizzie’s place. He thought of her little smile.

The tightness eased.

“Fuck.”

~*~

“Esme had the baby. Asked John if he’d told you, but the boy was barely awake.” Tommy leaned back in his chair as his aunt spoke. He’d known about John’s baby being born. There were pictures on social media. It’d been two weeks, but Tommy hadn’t expected to be told. Esme didn’t like him. John was shit at calling people. And the rest of his family would assume someone else had already told. “Cute kid. He’ll take after Esme when he’s older, but he’s got John’s nose and eyes.”

He was happy for his brother. It’d been an accident, but Tommy’d never heard his little brother more excited about anything. “I’ll be around for a visit soon. Got business to deal with nearby.” Pol scoffed. It was a sound he’d heard plenty of times in his life. But it always sounded a bit harsher over the phone. As if the anger she tried to hide from him in person was coming through. “Don’t know if Grace will want to leave the surrogate here alone.” 

Honestly, he wasn’t sure about a lot where Grace was concerned. He knew things we off between them. Had been since that day she’d shown up at Lizzie’s. She still kissed him and told him about her day and her plans. She still curled into his side at night. But there was some bit of distance that he couldn’t cross. Some wall that hadn’t been there before. 

“Ah, of course. Far be it for a grown woman to stay in a house by herself.”

Tommy ignored the sarcasm. Polly would never like Grace and Grace would never like Pol. But he didn’t care. “She’s protective. Nothing wrong with that.” Silence followed. It had scared Tommy when he was a boy, the way Polly used silence. It was never just quiet. It was more like a tool- a weapon. But he’d learned how to turn his silence into a weapon, too. And it’d been a long time since he’d let Pol intimidate him. 

Tommy turned to the window and looked out towards Lizzie’s place. He wasn’t sure when he’d started calling it that- when it had stopped being the guest house. She was sitting on the porch. He knew she was reading. She didn’t like to read indoors- said it made her head hurt. But she didn’t like being outside, so reading was the only time she sat on the porch. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth remembering the way her nose had scrunched up the first time he suggested sitting outside. 

“I’ve got to go. I’ll give John and Esme your best, hm?” He made a sound that could pass for agreement. His aunt sighed. “Something’s happening. I can feel it. This thing with Grace and this baby… Something’s changing. Watch yourself, Thomas. Don’t get dragged into something you can’t get out of.” She hung up before he could say anything else. Not that there was anything to say.

Movement caught his eye. Lizzie had stood up from her seat. Tommy watched as she stepped up to the porch rail, leaning against it. That tight feeling came again. He ignored it. He'd been doing that a lot lately. Turning away from the window he focused on the papers in front of him. His mind fell back into work- acquisitions and profit margins. He settled into distribution and stock prices. It was good- consuming- the risk, the potential for failure. There was no room for errors. One misplaced coma could cost him millions. One open-ended sentence could allow his opponents to bring him down. 

Business drowned out the noise in his head. It left no room for nightmares or memories. There was no space for fears or doubt. All there was were numbers and contracts and next steps. No phantom aches from wounds long healed. No echoes of gunshots. The sightless eyes of his mother couldn’t find him through the mountain of work. There was only focus and plans and success.

He glanced out the window over his shoulder. 

The tightness grew.

~*~

Day 139

Lizzie burst into laughter. 

Legs tucked under her on the couch, she listened to the ridiculous lie Tommy had just told. She couldn’t believe she was sitting here with him like this. Couldn’t believe he’d agreed to play such a silly game as Two Lies and a Truth. But he had and if she didn’t know better she’d say he got some kind of sick pleasure from watching her almost piss herself laughing. 

“Tommy Shelby you never, not in your life, sang in a bar.” It wasn’t possible. The man was too serious. Even now, playing this game, he’d only barely let a smile slip once. And she couldn’t picture him on a stage anywhere, let alone a bar. He was too controlled for something like that. Though, the thought of it was enough to have her sides aching from laughter. 

Tommy sat on the seat beside her, arm resting along the back of the couch, expression just this side of pleased. “Well, Lizzie girl, for once you’d be wrong about me.” Lizzie froze. Her eyes shot to his. There was amusement in his blue eyes instead of the usual blankness. She’d have missed it a few months ago. She’d have been too nervous to look at him long enough to find it. But not now- now she’d seen him with his guard lowered a bit. His lips twitched up into a smirk. “Before my mum died. Me, my mate Freddie, and my brother John. We had a band. It was shit, but we’d sing at the pub some nights.” 

She shook her head, trying to imagine a young Tommy Shelby singing. “I’d have believed anything else but that,” she said, fighting back a laugh. Tommy lifted a brow and nodded towards her drink. Picking up her glass of orange juice she tipped it towards him, before taking a drink. “Never thought I’d see the day I played a drinking game with juice instead of liquor.” 

‘Never thought I’d be playing this game at all. Especially not with a pregnant girl.” 

She rolled her eyes. Her drink might have been alcohol free, but Tommy’s was not. He’d come in with a bottle of whiskey and carton of orange juice. She’d been able to tell from the way he’d looked that something was wrong. She didn’t ask. He’d tell her or he wouldn’t. And if he had enough whiskey in him, he might even tell her the truth. The urge to pee hit Lizzie all of a sudden. She let her head drop with a groan and stood up. “Be right back. Maybe you’ll tell me why you’re really here when I get back.” He wouldn’t, but she still let the idea float in his head. 

It should have felt strange, seeing Tommy like this- having him relaxed and easy in her living room. And it was. It still caught her off guard every time. But she was getting used to it, now. Since that first dinner, there hadn’t been a week that passed where he wasn’t at her house at least two nights a week. In fact, he spent more nights having dinner with her than he did at home. At first he’d been trying to make up for Grace. But eventually, after too many nights of sitting in silence and interrogating each other, they’d started actually talking to each other. Lizzie mostly did the talking, but still. She’d told him some of her secrets, he’d told her a few of his. 

They were learning each other. It was scary. She’d never been one to make friends easy. People got to know her and suddenly she was a thing to be used instead of a person. And Tommy was the type of man to use people without a care. He’d worm his way past someone’s walls and leave them a shattered mess at the end with barely a second glance. She knew it and he didn’t try to pretend he’d change. But she felt like she was seeing bits of him that no one else saw either. The parts he tried to forget most days. 

 She finished her business and washed her hands. Her eyes went to her reflection in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed from laughing so hard. Her eyes were bright and happy. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen herself like this- not sober, anyway. Get a grip, Lizzie. It doesn’t mean anything. She’d been telling herself that more and more lately. It wasn’t helping much. 

Stepping out of the bathroom, Lizzie made her way back to the living room. Tommy’s head was resting on the back of the couch. His eyes were closed, whiskey glass hanging carelessly from his fingers. She’d never seen him with his guard down like this. It…it was a nice thing to see. “You gonna fall asleep on my couch, Tom?”

“Hm. Could’ve sworn it was mine. Got the receipt for it somewhere.” She arched a brow when his eyes blinked open. His free hand came to rest over his eyes. She’d seen him do it before when he was stressed. But she kept quiet. He’d tell her if he wanted to tell her. She didn’t think he would tonight, though. Not enough liquor in him. “How’s my girl?” 

Lizzie clenched her fist to keep from putting her hand on her stomach. Sometimes, when he was relaxed like this, she’d forget. Sometimes, when his voice was whiskey-rough and his eyes were more ocean than ice, she’d forget. She’d forget this wasn’t really her baby. She’d forget this wasn’t what things would be like. Sometimes it made her sad. Most times it made her anxious- wondering what her future would look like after all this. But mostly it forced her to fall back behind her walls- the ones Tommy seemed so good at getting through. “Your girl’s good,” she whispered. Clearing her throat she tried again. “Wants weird food sometimes still, but I hear that’s normal.” 

“Good. That’s good, Liz.”

She liked him calling her that more than she should. She liked a lot about the way Tommy was when he was here. She moved around the couch and sat down. Her glass had been refilled with juice and Tommy’s had more whiskey in it. “Don’t you think you should stop? It’s late. Grace’ll be wondering what’s keeping you.” She hated saying that woman’s name, but it was necessary. Sometimes she needed the reminder. Tommy wasn’t her friend. This wasn’t their baby. She wasn’t permanent for him. Grace was the one he went home to. Didn’t matter who he ate dinner with. She’d leave and Grace would still be here.

“Grace…” he sighed.

Lizzie’s eyes shot over to Tommy. He suddenly looked exhausted. Like he’d been holding up the world for too long. For the first time Lizzie was sure he’d tell her what was wrong. And for the first time she was sure she didn’t want him to. “I think you should go, Tommy.” He blinked his eyes open, locked those blue eyes on her. She didn’t look away. Maybe she should have, but she didn’t. She let him see what she had been trying to keep hidden from them both. He took in a deep breath. That told her everything she needed to know. “Go home to your wife, Mr. Shelby.”

One slow nod, one moment of hesitation, then he was gone.

Oh, Lizzie. What the hell have you gotten yourself into?

~*~

She’d read about this. Everything she’d read said to stay calm. Everything she’d read said not to panic. But she was- she was panicking. Because when she’d gone to the bathroom, she’d found blood. It didn’t seem like too much. But then she didn’t know how much was too much five months in. All she knew was blood was bad.

She called Tommy. 

It would have bothered her that he was the first person she thought of. It would have made her nervous how hearing his voice had settled her nerves a bit. It would have nagged at her that maybe she was too fucking attached to the man whose child she carried. But there was no room for any of those thoughts. There was just room for ‘Call Tommy. Get to the doctor. Please, God, don’t let me lose her’.

It seemed like time was playing a game- jumping and skipping about. One minute she was a lone, trying to ignore the slight pain in her belly. The next she was in Tommy’s car, Grace’s hand covering hers. Then she was at the hospital, nurses asking questions she somehow found the answers to. Between one blink and the next it felt like years passed, but still there was the pain and the panic.

“I have to ask you both to step out while the doctor examines her.”

Lizzie jerked, head twisting to find Grace and Tommy. Her eyes landed on Grace first. The fear in her eyes pierced through the haze of panic Lizzie had been trapped in. It wrapped itself around her and squeezed- made it hard to get a breath in. She’d forgotten again. She’d forgotten this was Grace’s baby. But the reminder didn’t stop the worry. It didn’t ease the fear that had slipped under Lizzie’s skin and into her veins. 

“I need to stay,” Grace said, voice strained and thready. “I need to be here if- I need to be here.”

The nurse said something. Grace frowned and said something back. But Lizzie didn’t hear it. Her eyes had found Tommy. He wasn’t beside Grace. He was in the chair next to Lizzie. She’d no idea how he got there, but she kept quiet so they wouldn’t notice. So they wouldn’t make him leave. “Hey, Liz.” His voice was soft, softer than she’d ever heard it. “You’re gonna be alright. Everything’s gonna be alright.” She wanted to believe him- she almost could. But then a pain came and the fear and panic drowned out his soft words. 

“I don’t want her to die. I don’t want her to die, Tom”

The nurse was still talking, saying words Lizzie couldn’t begin to make out. Then Grace was beside Tommy- eyes still frightened, body still tense. She couldn’t look at her- not in that moment. Not when the baby could be dying. Tommy’s rough hand grabbed Lizzie’s. “No one’s fucking dying, Lizzie. That baby’s not going anywhere, eh? You just breathe and let the doctor work.” She nodded, and even to her it seemed a bit frantic. But Tommy just squeezed her fingers. “Good. That’s good, Lizzie.”

Then Grace’s hand was on his shoulder and the nurse was talking again. Then he was standing up, his hand sliding free of her grip. Tears she hadn’t notice slipped down her cheeks. Her fingers trembled with the loss of his warmth. Then he was gone, walking out the door with Grace. The doctor had come in at some point. She was saying something- maybe asking a question. But Lizzie didn’t know. She didn’t fucking know. All she knew was there was blood and there was pain and she’d never been so scared in her life. 

The nurse pulled the curtains.

Lizzie closed her eyes.

Then she prayed

~*~

Day 178

The room was dark. The clock on her nightstand said it was after two in the morning. There were crickets outside of the window. And Thomas was lying next to her. He was having a nightmare. She knew from the tension in his body and the harshness of his breathing. Usually she’d roll over and wrap herself around him. Usually she’d run her fingers through his hair and remind him she loved him. But not this time. This time she couldn’t force herself to breach the distance between them- couldn’t stand to be close to him.

It’d been happening slowly for a while. A little bit more each day. She hadn’t even meant to do you- hadn’t wanted this at all. But she couldn’t stop it- this wall she’d created. Brick by brick, it’d gotten taller and taller, thicker and thicker. And it was so strange. Because she could see everything- she could see Thomas trying to reach her. She could see him pulling away each time she pushed him back. It’s what he did to protect himself- leave before the other person left him. 

But she didn’t want to leave him. She didn’t want him to leave her. She just wanted to get through this pregnancy. She wanted to hold their baby. She wanted Lizzie Stark gone so everything could go back to how it was. But each day felt harder and colder and never-ending. It felt like Lizzie would never leave. The baby would never come.  Thomas would never be solely hers again. Or maybe she’d never be his again- this wall too strong to break though or tear down.

A murmur from beside her brought Grace out of her thoughts. But it wasn’t a reprieve. Instead it took her to a month ago. In the hospital. She’d been asking the doctor question after question. She’d been trying to understand what had happened, what had caused Lizzie’s bleeding. She’d wanted information, knowledge, control. But there hadn’t been an answer. So she’d gone back to the room they’d put Lizzie in. She’d peeked through the window and felt her hear crack in her chest. 

Lizzie had been awake- just barely it seemed. Her face was pale, there were tear tracks on her cheeks- from pain or fear or both. But her eyes had been clear. She’d looked content- like nothing could hurt her. And when Grace could catch her breath and let herself look, she’d understood why. Thomas sat in the seat beside the bed. His eyes were closed, but Grace knew he wasn’t sleeping. He was relaxed and sure of himself and the world- a feeling Grace found herself envying. 

His hand was holding Lizzie’s- his thumb brushing back and forth across the back of her pale hand. He was saying something. Grace could barely make out the sound of his voice. But she recognized that tone. It was low and warm and soothing- like when the two of them whispered to each other in bed. It was the same voice that had whispered ‘Marry me, Grace’. It was the voice that said ‘I love you whether we have a dozen babies or none’. It was the voice that she’d thought no one else would ever hear again after her. 

And he was sharing it with Lizzie. 

Tossing the covers aside, Grace carefully got out of bed. She glanced over at Thomas. Never, not even in the beginning, had she ever felt like he was a stranger. They’d connect from the start in a way that she’d never thought two people could. He’d seen her- her heart and soul. And she’d seen him- the dark and the light he was made of. But now…Now she was a stranger in her own bed each night. A stranger with a husband who loved her. A stranger who knew almost everything about the man beside her. A woman who nothing about herself anymore. And she knew it was her fault- she knew she was the one drifting while he was the one trying to keep her with him. But she didn’t know how to find herself. She wanted to reach out and grab hold of him, but her hands wouldn’t move like she needed them to. 

She stepped away from the bed. Her hands reached for her robe by rote. She slipped it on and padded barefoot to the door. It was routine by now. Turn the knob slowly. Only open the door enough to slip out. Close it gently. Slowly release the knob. Turn left down the hall. Avoid the loud spots. Then she was free, two doors between her and Thomas. Take a breath, feel her lungs expand instead of grow tight. 

When did breathing become so hard?

Pull back the covers. Climb into the bed. Slide under the covers. Lie down. There would be no sleep. She wouldn’t close her eyes. She’d miss the heat that Thomas radiated. She’d miss the scent of his cologne mixing with her shampoo on their sheets. But she’d be able to breathe. And maybe when the sun came up she’d have found a way to bring down this wall between herself and her world. Her fingers pressed to her chest. Maybe she could stop being a stranger to herself

Maybe…

~*~

A knock came at the door to her office. Thomas had started knocking, but he was out of town for the day. She’d let the staff go early. So that only left one person. “Come in,” she called. A moment of hesitation and then the door opened. Grace stood from her place behind her desk as Lizzie stepped inside. “Is everything alright? Do we need to go to the hospital?” It was the only reason that Grace could think of for why the other woman would have come to her.

“No.” Grace glanced down, eyes taking in the nervous way Lizzie’ fidgeted with her fingers. The movement stopped a moment later. Lizzie moved to stand beside the settee across the room. Grace returned her gaze to Lizzie’s face. There was a strange kind of tension there. She knew before the words came what this visit was about. “I thought we should talk. Third trimester’s just around the corner. Time for me to go.” 

A flood of relief crashed into Grace. This had been the moment she’d been waiting for. For months she’d regretted forcing Lizzie to stay in the guest house. For months she’d wished for a way to get her to leave sooner- wished for the third trimester to arrive faster. But even under the relief was that dark, desperate fear. The fear that had been there from the beginning. Only higher now- it’d grown since the scare. 

But she couldn’t focus on that. “Of course. I wasn’t sure if you’d want to go after…” A flash of pain crossed Lizzie’s face. Grace tensed. She’d seen the fear in Lizzie’s eyes at the hospital. She’d heard her tell Thomas that she didn’t want the baby to die. It was a fear Grace understood. It was also a fear Grace resented Lizzie for feeling. God, no one wants a baby to die, Grace. It doesn’t mean anything. “I can send someone tomorrow to start packing things. And when you’re ready we’ll call the movers?” 

A small nod seemed to be all Lizzie was capable of. There was something in her eyes that told Grace there was more to this visit. After another moment, Lizzie sat on the edge of the settee. Grace sat down again as well. “I told you from the start, I didn’t want to stay. I told you I was scared of getting attached.” Grace’s spine straightened in fear. This was what she had nightmares about. That she might lose this baby after everything he and Thomas had been through to get it. “I’m…not. I’m not attached. At least not so much that-” A frustrated sigh left the woman carrying Grace’s child and the tension in the room increased. “I think it’d be best if Mr. Shelby didn’t visit once I go back…home.”

Finally, something we agree on. 

“He’s the baby’s father.” Lizzie clasped her fingers together tightly and gave a sharp nod. “He deserves to be as involved as anyone.” Another sigh. Another nod. “But…If you think this will make the transition easier for you, then of course. I’ll speak to my husband about it. It won’t be a problem.” It would be. It would be a bigger problem than it should be. Because Thomas had grown fond of the girl. He cared about her. And as hard as it was to make Thomas care for anyone, once he did…

Lizzie stood quickly, bringing Grace back from thoughts of her husband’s reaction to the news. “Thank you. I know that things haven’t been the…easiest…between us. But I don’t want to make things harder.” She was sincere- Grace could see it in her eyes and hear it in her voice. It was as close as either of them could get to admitting that Lizzie cared for Thomas more than she should. 

“I’ll send someone.” 

Another nod, then Lizzie was walking back out of the door. A glance at the clock showed seven minutes had passed. But it was enough. Grace wouldn’t be getting anything else accomplished. Her mind was already swirling and spiraling and it would be hours before the thoughts calmed. She leaned her elbows on her desk and let her head fall into her hands. She’s leaving. She’s leaving, it’s fine. It’s all going to be fine.

She wished she could believe it.

[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary -Chapter 26

Warnings: profanity, smut. NSFW.

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @thorsbathroomchicken, @innerpaperexpertcloud

The knock comes at quarter to nine.  The unhurried rap of knuckles against wood.  Through the peep hole Tyler can get a good look at the man on the other side;  short and stocky, older than him,  shaggy shoulder length salt and pepper hair and an unkempt beard.  Looking as if he's heading to the beach in his baggy tropical print shorts and a white wife beater.  He's calm. Collected.  Casually glancing from the left to the right yet not in a dire hurry to fulfill his mission.  And he's just raising his hand to knock again when Tyler opens the door; the chain firmly in place, giving the unknown man limited access.

“Who are you?” he inquires.

“You Tyler Rake?”

He nods. “Yep.”

“Nik sent me. I came up from Dublin. I come bearing gifts,” he nods down at the two large duffle bags sitting at his feet. “You know, the kind that fuck shit up and tear people apart.”

“Name?”

“Padraig. Last name is on a need to know basis and you don't need to know.”

Tyler glances over his shoulder to where Esme sits at the table by the window, her SAT phone pressed to her ear, relaying the information in real time to Nik.  Only turning back towards the man in the hallway when his wife gives him a nod indicating that everything is on the up and up.  

“You're a hard person to track down,” Padraig comments, as Tyler holds the door open for him and waits for him to step outside. “No one seems to know who the hell you are. Like you don't even exist. Like a goddamn ghost.”

“We had to switch things up. Move hotels,” Tyler checks the hallway for himself; looking left and right, making sure there's no one lurking about.  No curious eyes or ears that are waiting to pass information back to the wrong people.

“Got made, huh?”

“Before we even got on the damn plane,” he shuts the door, snaps the deadbolt in place.

Padraig gives Esme a polite nod in greeting, then addresses Tyler. “Who's she?”

“She's with me.”

“I can see that. But I was under the understanding it would be just the two of us, know what I'm saying? This is an A and B conversation, so she can see herself out. This isn't the time for girlfriends to be hanging around. No matter how cute they are.”

“She's my wife. And she's in on this. She's on the job too.  So how about we cut the chit chat and get down to business>”

Padraig eyes her from head to toe.  Taking in the baggy sweat pants and the tattered and weathered t-shirt she wears, then gives a nod of approval when he deems her a non-threat and offers a hand. “Padraig. But pretty little things like you can call me Paddy.”

“Esme,” she shakes his hand.

“How's a little thing like you get mixed up in  all of this? With a guy like that?” he jerks his head in Tyler's direction.

“How do you know I didn't get him mixed up in all of this?” she counters, and he grins.  

“You're a fire cracker. I can tell,” he tosses the bags onto one of the beds and turns back to Tyler. “You got your hands full with that one, I reckon.”

“We're not here to make friends, mate. So how about we just cut the shit and get this done.”

“All business. I like that,” he takes a step back, nodding down at the bags.  “Got your list. I was kind of surprised how much was on there, to be honest. I haven't had someone ask for a haul like this in a long time. You expecting some crazy shit? Going up against the entire army.?”

“Open them,” Tyler instructs.

“Don't trust me? Think they're rigged or something?”

“I don't trust anyone. Open them.”

“Alright...alright...” the older man huffs. “...all business I see.”

Esme gets up from the table and makes her way over to the bed just as he finishes unzipping both bags. And when she reaches for the first one, two fingers cautiously and curiously pushing the thick fabric aside, she sees the way the man's eyebrows shoot up.  

“Relax, mate,” Tyler says. “Out of the two of us, she's the expert when it comes to these things.”

He holds his hands up in surrender, then takes a step back as she opens the bag further. Rummaging through the bundle of weapons and ammunition and various and random pieces of tactical gear.  Knifes, bump stocks, flash lights, first aid supplies.  But the guns are the drawing point. Revolvers, grenade launchers, fully automatic rifles with high tech scopes and all the bells and whistles.  When she gets to the second bag she begins removing things; snapping them apart, carefully inspecting the various parts and components. Checking for any damage or wear and tear that could affect the performance.   And Padraig's eyes are wide with both amazement and approval as he watches her.

She quickly and efficiently puts weapons back together, then returns them to the bag and takes a step back.

“Good?”” Tyler asks.

She nods.

“So which ones to you want?” Padraig asks.

Tyler smirks. “All of them.”

****

After a long and languid session of love making, they sit in bed. Backs against the headboard, devouring plates of food from room surface, the television tuned in to international news. Terrorism in the Middle East,  scandals and stupidity within the White House,  racial tensions in the southern US,  a shaky and unpredictable stock market. Losing themselves in crappy, high calorie food and ice cream and anything and everything going on the world aside from the job.  Even other countries problems a welcome distraction from the high stakes drama surrounding them.

It is the quiet simplicities of life that both of them have come to cherish and hold onto with a fierce determination.  The moments of comfortable and companionable silence; neither feeling the need to fill the void with mindless chit chat. Or the flirtatious teasing and lighthearted banter and conversation they're prone to; never malicious or hurtful, always done with the purest intent.  Just enjoying one another's company and feeling as if they're just an ordinary, normal couple. Even if everything around them is anything but.

Tyler's eyes are closed; legs stretched out in front of him, hands behind his head.  Stomach finally full and satisfied. The anxieties and the worries of the day finally subsiding; allowing his mind to rest and all the tension in his body to finally loosen.  Feeling the noticeable difference in his body; the way the muscles, ligaments and tendons finally loosen.  A relief that actually makes him sigh out loud.

Esme moves beside him;  a faint rattling of dishes as she places them on the little table next to her side of the bed, the soft rustling of sheets as she moves closer to him. Tucking herself into his side, a hand on his stomach, her head on his chest.  And he drops one of his hands behind his head, softly running his palm over her hair and then down onto her shoulder. Fingertips grazing along that soft, smooth skin,  travelling over her hand before sliding back up again to rest on her upper arm.

“Were you sleeping?” she asks, her hand moving in slow circles on his stomach, fingers occasionally stopping to trace the hard lines and indents of his ab muscles.

He shakes his head. “Thinking.”

“About?”

“Australia, actually.”

Her hand travels slightly upwards and just to the left, two fingertips sliding over the thick, raised scar that had been left behind years ago when...in a state of rage and frustration...he'd yanked the just recently placed feeding tube clear out of his own body. He'd be pissed. Embarrassed. That it had come down to even needing something like that to help him on the road to recovery. Hating that she had to see him in such a state.

“You miss it,” she states.

“Sometimes,” Tyler admits. “Not often. It was time to move on. There was too much there holding me back. Holding us back.”

She nods in agreement. While they had been happy there, the ghosts of his past had visited way too often.  His son's terminal illness and eventual death, an ex wife that would appear every now and again to try and make his life a living hell (angry that he'd gotten remarried and started a new family, even wishing illness and death on both Esme and their then infant daughter), an extremely toxic relationship with his father. There had always been something lingering in the background that had made being truly content nearly impossible.

Moving away had done them a world of good.  He'd both thrived and flourished with a change of pace. His personal development, both mentally and physically, a stunning accomplishment. He'd become a different person; happier, at peace with himself and the decisions he'd made in the past, enjoying being a husband and a father and living a somewhat normal life. They still had their fair share of problems; their own relationship could be described as toxic in some ways.  But once away from the other drama that plagued his life, they were able to concentrate on fixing things.  On becoming not only better human beings, but better friends, spouses, and parents.

“It would be nice to go back though,” he says. “Just to visit. Take the kids. Let them see where I came from. Where I grew up.”

“They always have been curious about that. Always wanting to know why daddy sounds differently than they do when he talks.  They'd love the beach. The ocean. You could even teach them to surf. I know you've always wanted that. A little surfing buddy. Or two. Or three.”

He smiles at that, drops a kiss on the top of her head. “We could even take them to Kimberly. Let them see the shack. It's where we met, after all. They might like to hear about that. How things started out between us.”

“There's a lot we'd have to leave out. The more...gory stuff.”

He nods in agreement.  There's no way they'd ever be able to handle that. Anything that had gone down between their parents once they got to Dhaka.  It was intense and wild. Not just their immense sexual attraction to one another, but after that they'd become embroiled in once the mission to extract Ovi had gone so horribly wrong. Sometimes he replays it in his mind. Trying to figure out where it had all started to fall apart. Finding solutions. Discovering decisions that could have made things easier. Better.  There were regrets in that, regard. Things he should have said and done that would have made that bridge crossing a lot of a lot easier. Especially on her and the kid.

“They could meet Koen,” he says. “And the chicken.”

She laughs. “Bathroom chicken. The one true love of Tyler Rake's life.”

“Naw...” he says, and with his free hand, brushing her hair off of her forehead and presses a kiss to her brow. “...I think that title belongs to someone else.”

She smiles, turning her face up towards his as he pecks her lips. “Baby...” she sighs, and nestles her face into his chest. “...you have such sweet pillow talk sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

“Usually you're not a talker afterwards. You're either hungry or you pass out. No in between. Not that that  makes me love you any less.”  Her hand slides around to his right side; fingers tracing the tattoo that takes up a large portion of his rib cage.

“I guess they could meet my dad too,” he says as an after thought. “The kids.”

“He's only met Millie. And she was just tiny then. Remember how small she was? You'd carry her with her head in the palm of your hand and her toes wouldn't even reach your elbow.”

He nods, smiling at the memory.  There were times he still missed those moments.  When he'd carry Millie around the apartment in his arms or he'd sit on the couch with her pressed against his chest. Her smell, the softness of her skin, the feel of her breath against him. Sometimes he'd  hold her along his forearm and just stare at her. In awe of how beautiful she was.  Wondering how he'd ever managed to help create something so pure and innocent and incredible.  And questioning whether or not he deserved to feel that kind of love and happiness.  

After Austin, he'd abandoned the thought of ever having more kids. He simply couldn't imagine being married again or having a family. Not after the horrible decision he'd made to abandon his son when he'd needed him the most.  Yet Millie was there. All six pounds, eight ounces of her.  With her head head full of light brown hair and her huge blue eyes and those long yet surprisingly strong fingers that would tightly curl around just one of his.  

In a way, being able to stay home and not worry about the job while he worked on recovering had been a blessing. He'd been there from the second she was born. The first one that the doctor had handed her to, the one that cut her umbilical cord, who'd given her her first bath in the nursery.  Never balking at getting up in the middle of the night with her, getting used to changing dirty diapers again,  being able to witness the first time she rolled over or crawled, her first steps.  He'd missed all of those milestones with the twins. Always out of the country when they happened; having to rely on videos or Esme's excited play by play.  And it seemed to be repeating itself with Declan. He had words now;  not just the babble and the garble that babies indulge in. And soon he'd be pulling himself up into a stand and walking. Crazy strong and determined for someone so young.

“It would be good for him,” Esme says. “To meet his other grandchildren. Maybe it will mellow him out a bit.”

“Doubt it. He's been a dick head for the entire forty years of my life. I don't see grandkids changing that. They came from me, after all. I helped make them. That only puts them at a disadvantage. The fact they're part of me. I'm the fuck up, remember? The one that can't do anything right.”

“No,” she corrects. “He is the fuck up, Tyler. Not you. He was a fuck up as a husband and a fuck up as a father. None of that was your fault.”

“Sometimes I'm still scared I'm going to end up just like him. Or maybe I already am. Maybe I'm more like him than I realize.”

“Oh my god, no. You are nothing like him,” she insists. “Not even close.”

She'd met him once.  When they'd gotten married. And he'd shown up drunk and called her by Tyler's ex wife's name and then made a scene when corrected.  After that, Tyler had kept her away from him and the only contact they had...even after Millie was born...was through phone calls.

“Look at the way we fight,” he says.

“Every couple fights. Not just us.”

“I'm not talking about the normal fights. I'm talking about the knock 'em, drag 'em out fights. The brutal ones. Where we just say horrible, mean shit to each other to see who can hurt the other the most. That's fucked up. That's not normal. You know it. I know it.”

“It's just who we are. It's what we've always done. I don't think we know how to be any other way.”

“Maybe,” he says. “But I hate being that way. I don't want to be that way. I don't want to be the mean husband. The angry husband. The abusive husband.”

“You really don't think that about yourself do you? Abusive? Because you're not. You're far from it.”

“The shit I say to you is awful.  It's horrible. No one should say shit like that to someone they love. I don't even know why I do it. Half the time, I don't even know I said until I sit back and think about it. That's not who I want to be. I want to be better. For you. You deserve that.”

“Maybe we both can be better,” she suggests. “It's not entirely one sided. I say just as much terrible shit to you. And I hate myself afterwards for it. For days. Even weeks and months later I think about it and stress over it. It'll just pop into my head and I'll think 'oh my God, you're a shitty person and you do not deserve him'. Lots of times I'd thought you'd just give up and leave. But you never did.”

“I'm not going anywhere,” he assures her. “We're in this together. Until the bitter end.”

“Hopefully the bitter end isn't for a long, long time,” she muses, and he nods in agreement.

She turns into him, pressing her warm body against his, a hand coming up to rest on the nape of his neck, fingers gently scraping against his scalp where the shortest strands of hair are. And he presses a kiss to the bridge of her nose and moves his hand to the middle of her back.

“Sometimes I miss it too,” she tells him. “Australia. Is it weird I actually miss our old apartment? I mean, we have our own home with tons of land and it's beautiful and perfect for us and for raising kids. But sometimes I miss that little apartment. It wasn't much, but it was ours. It was our first place together. That was a huge step for both of us. Actually moving in together and getting used to each other.  I mean, we still didn't know each other that well yet we just jumped into it. It was scary. At least for me.”

“It was a little overwhelming,” he admits.  It had been a challenge; learning how to fully trust someone again. To getting used to working as a team and  abandoning his selfish bachelor ways in favour or taking care of and providing for someone else.

She pulls back and smiles at him. “We did pretty good though. I mean, we're almost six years into this and we haven't killed each other. Yet.”

“Just so you know, I haven't had any homicidal thoughts in about three years,” he teases. “So I think you're safe.”

“I think I'll keep you,” she says. “I kind of like having you around. You're cute and you're a good kisser. And you're tall and you can  reach the stuff on the high shelves. I think you get to stick around. At least for another five years.”

He smiles, then places a kiss to her brow and pulls her even tighter into him. Eyes closed, breathing in that soft and familiar scent. Feeling the warm of her body against his, her breath against his skin. Her mere presence is comforting.  And he hates how the sense of doom lingers in every inch of his body and mind. The thought of how he'd miss her...everything about her...if she suddenly wasn't around any more.

****

“I hate him, you know,” he says after several minutes.

“Who?” her knuckles repeatedly brush against the shorn section of hair at the back of his head. “Your father?”

“Him too. Mark. I fucking hate that guy.”

“I know. And you don't do a good job at hiding it either. And I am sorry. That I asked him for help. But it wasn't to betray you or piss you off. It was because I was worried. I didn't know who else to turn to, I knew he had the resources. I just thought he'd be a little more low key. I don't know what he is even doing here. He was supposed to send someone. Not show up.”

“Probably going to wait around until I get killed and then try and get you back,” he grumbles.

“I wouldn't go back to him if he was the last man on earth. I'd switch teams before that happened. And stop talking like that, okay? Nothing is going to happen to you. You're going to be fine. We're going to get this shit done and then we are going home and I am never, ever helping you out again. At least in this way.  I can't believe I even let you talk me into this. Intel was one thing. But acting as tactical back  up, like what the hell?  Do you know long it's been since I've actually been in a situation like that? Longer than ten years.”

“It's like riding a bike,” he reasons.  “And I trust you. To have my back. More than I'd trust anyone else.”

“Of course I'll have your back. No matter what. But this is just insane. I gave that part of my life up. A long time ago. How do I go from being a housewife and stay at home mother to all of this?”

“I bet you're really wishing you hadn't have stuck around in Australia,” he means it as a joke, but the frown on her face indicates that it definitely hasn't been received that way. “I was kidding. Totally kidding. Come here...” he pulls her into him, until she tumbles with a giggle into his lap, hands on his shoulders for stability as she manoeuvres her body over his; sitting sideways on his lap, both arms curled around his neck.  “I didn't mean it the way you took it,” he assures her, and lays a hand on her head and encourages her to rest it on his shoulder.

“Sometimes you can be a real dick,” she declares.

“I know,” he admits, and runs his palm along her leg. From the top of her hip to her ankle and back up again. Resting it on the side of her thigh.

“Try not and let Mark get to you, okay? He's going to try and get under your skin and irritate the shit out of you.”

“Too late. He's already done that. The second he showed up at our house. Who does that, anyway? What ex husband would show up at the place his ex wife lives at with her new husband? That's just...fucked.”

“He's not right in the head. He never has been. And he tries to justify his bullshit with the most ridiculous reasons. He's a narcissist, I told you that. And he'll try gaslighting you every change he gets.”

“I will honestly punch him in the throat.”

“Some times I wish you would. I'd love to see it, actually. I'd love to see you just lose your shit on him. I'm honestly surprised you haven't. Considering how protective you are of me and  that I know what your temper is like.”

“I came really close when he showed up tonight. He just would not shut the fuck up.”

“Do I want to know what he said to you? To get you this worked up?”

“No. No you don't. And I wouldn't tell you anyway.  It was just a bunch of shit. Like you said, trying to get under my skin.”

“Was it about me?”

“Some of it.”

“What did he say?”

“Like I said, a bunch of shit. I think he just likes to hear himself talk.”

“You think?” she laughs.  “Don't let him to get you, Tyler. He thinks he's more important than he actually is.  He's the past. You're the right here and now. And the future. That's probably what really burns his ass. He just wants you to be as miserable as he is.”

“You think he'd be happy. He got away from your cooking.”

“You're such an asshole,” she mutters, then giggles when he pinches and tickles the back of her thigh.  “I've kept you and your children alive for five and a half years. I must be doing something right. Promise me you won't let Mark get to you. That you'll just ignore him and not even engage. Because as much as I'd love to see you kick his ass...”

“He's a dick head.”

“I know. But just be the bigger man and ignore him. He's just not worth it, Tyler.”

“He deserves to have his ass handed to him for what he did to you.”

“Well let karma work that you.  I know it fills you with blinding rage when you think about the things I told you...”

“He beat the shit out of you More than once.”

“...but he's not worth it,” she insists. “And believe me, I love you so much for wanting to defend my honour and it's kind of a turn on that you'd literally beat the shit out of someone for me.  But just let it go.  It's a long time ago. None of that matters any more.”

“It matters to me. You're my wife.”

“But I wasn't back then.”

“That doesn't make a difference. I still know what he did to you. You're my wife now.  It happened to you. So it matters.”

“You are so stubborn,” she sighs.  

“It reminds me of my dad,” he admits. “Of the things he used to do to my mom. I used to hear it, Esme. He would beat the shit out of her when he thought I was asleep. I was just a little kid. And when I got older, he would do it right in front of me. It didn't matter any more, I guess. Or maybe he thought I needed to see it because he thought that's how women should be treated and I needed to learn.”

She pulls back to look at him; running her hand through his hair, pushing it away from his forehead.  His eyes are dark and downcast, brow furrowed.  And her fingers gently stroke his face; pressing into his temples, running along his cheeks and under his eyes, over his chin. A touch that is so tender and so comforting it nearly brings tears to his eyes.

“And then when she died, he made me his favourite punching bag. I always told myself that when I got older, when I got bigger and stronger, I'd beat the shit out of him. More for her than for myself. I wanted revenge for her. I wanted him to pay for what he did.”

“But you never did it. You were the bigger man, Tyler. By not doing it, you showed that he couldn't drag you down to his level. You showed him that he couldn't break you down. You showed him what a real man is like.”

“A real man,” he scoffs. “You mean one that drags his wife into bullshit like this?”

“A real man that loves his wife and his children and isn't afraid to tell them or show them.  I don't want you to be any way else. I love the way you are.  The way you are with me. The way you are with your kids. Our kids. You're nothing like him.”

“I'll put a gun in my mouth if I ever become like him,” he declares. “If I ever lost it to that point...where I hit you...I'd put a bullet in my brain. I couldn't live with myself if I ever did anything like that to you.”

She holds his face in her hands, kisses him softly.

“He deserves to pay. For what he did to you.”

“That's not up to you, Tyler. It will catch up to him. Eventually. But I don't want you be the one that does it.  Promise me you won't.. That you won't let him get you to that point.  He's just not worth it.”

“But you deserve that. Revenge.”

“Remember when I thought the same thing? When I thought Farhad should pay for what he did to you?”

He frowns. “That's not the same thing.”

“I thought he deserved to pay for what he did. For what he did to you. For what he did to us. And I was willing to go to any length to get back at him.  And you tried to talk me out of it, remember? And I didn't listen and look what happened. Or look what could have happened.”

“He was a kid.”

“Who shot you in the throat and nearly killed you. Sometimes I wish I had have done it. Killed him on that bridge.  It would have given me some sense of peace. Knowing that someone at least paid for what they did to you. But you were the one that tried to talk me out of it. You said it would only make things worse. And that's what I'm saying to you right now.  Just leave it alone, Tyler. Please. It's just not worth it.  He's not worth it.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but she silences him with a kiss.

“Promise me,” she demands. “That you'll let this go.”

He runs his hand over her thigh and down onto the back of her calf. “I promise.”

“Good,” she smiles, and then grabs a hold of his hand and moves it back up to her thigh. “Now...” she kisses him, then pulls back to skim the tip of her tongue over his top lip. “...make love to me again. We have a baby to make.”

His mouth is soft.  Torturous. Moving at a snail's pace along her leg, Beginning at the top of her foot and then travelling along the side of her ankle and calf. Soft kisses, gentle nibbles, soothing flicks and presses of the tongue. His beard rough against her skin; the scraping and the scratching only heightening the sensations currently surging through her body.  Every nerve ending feels as if it is on fire; goosebumps invading every inch of her skin,  her stomach fluttering in anticipation,  heart hammering in her chest.   His breath is warm against her skin and she can feel those rough callouses on his palms as his hands glide up the back of her legs. And when he reaches the inside of her thigh, he bites down on the supple flesh; hard enough to break the skin and leave a perfect impression of his teeth. Clearly marking her as his.

“Tyler...” she whimpers, clutching at his shoulders and the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair, her way of encouraging him to move further up her body.  It's a most delicious form of punishment; body being teased and taunted until it's almost impossible to endure. He's a master at this; playing with her body and all of her senses in that languid, lazy pace. Worshipping every inch of her. Taking his time as mouth hand hands leave no inch unexplored.

Their second night in Dhaka he'd done the same thing; his hands taking in every possible curve and dip and hidden spot that her body had to offer. Spending an hour with his face between her thighs, using his mouth and fingers to bring about orgasm after orgasm, until tears were spilling down her face and she couldn't take any more.  And then he'd fucked her. With  long, deep, powerful strokes that she'd felt for two days afterwards.

His mouth moves higher; kisses being pressed in the juncture where her left hip meets her groin, running the tip of his tongue along the crease. Reaching up to pull her hands away from his hair as she once again tries to direct him to where she is hot and wet and ready for him.  “Stop,” he demands when she tries to grab a hold of him once more. His eyes locked on hers, mouth hovering on her pubic bone. “I'm in charge here.”

“Please...” her hips arch up towards him, and she gives a a frustrated cry when he places a forearm across her stomach to keep her pinned to the bed. “...Tyler...stop...stop teasing me...”

He ignores her, and captures both of her wrists in his free hand, roughly pressing them into the mattress beside her.  Feathery kisses places along the width of her pubic bone, biting at each hip, then moving just a little bit higher. Lips and tongue travelling along her stomach and up to her navel; his hair falling forward and tickling her bare skin,  tongue delving into her navel and then pulling back to blow a steady stream of air onto the moistened spot.

“Shit...” she whimpers, lifting her head form the bed in order to look down at him. “...stop...you need to stop...”

“Like stop entirely or...”

“You know what I fucking mean!” she cries, and then bites into her bottom lip as his tongue slides downwards, over the top of her mound, a smirk tugging at his lips and his eyes sparkling mischievously as his mouth overs above the spot where she so desperately.

“Don't be a fucking asshole!” she snaps.

“That's not nice,” he teases. “Why would you talk like that to the guy that's just about to eat your pussy? What if I just stop right now? If you're going to be an ungrateful brat...”

Her eyes narrow. “You're evil.”

“You need to behave yourself, love. I'm holding all the cards here. I've got all the power. I could just stop right now.”

“You wouldn't.”

He rests his chin on her thigh, that smirk growing wider as he stares at her.

“Don't be such a bastard!” she huffs.  

“I thought you liked playing these little games. I thought you liked when I was in charge.”

“Not like this.”

“I can do this all night. I can just sit here. Sit here and wait for you to beg. That's kind of hot, actually. Thinking about you begging for it.”

“I will kill you in your sleep.”

“You're not helping your case, love. The more you challenge me, the longer the wait is going to be. You need to learn how to behave yourself to get what you want.”

“Tyler...” she frowns. “...I swear to God...if you don't knock this shit off...”

“Tell me...” he returns to that crease between her hip and her groin. Sucking, licking, nibbling. “...tell me what you want.”

“You know what I want.”

“I like it when you tell me. It's a turn on. Hearing you say it.”

“I'm not going to say it.”

“Why?” he chuckles against the inside of her thigh, “What's the issue with saying it? After five years you still can't do it? You still can't tell me to eat you out?”

“It's embarrassing.”

“How? We've been together five and a half years. We've done some kinky and crazy dirty shit to each other. With each other. You're actually embarrassed about that? It embarrasses you tell your husband to go down on you?”

“Please...” she begs.  “...stop doing this!”

“It's okay,” he kisses her places across her pubic bone are gentle. Tender. Reassuring. “Don't be embarrassed. You don't need to ever be embarrassed with me. Tell me...” he encourages. “...tell me what you want.”

“I want...” she hesitates.

“It's okay,” his voice is soft. Comforting. As are those blue eyes that look up at her. “It's okay, Esme. Tell me.”

“I want you to go down on me,” she finally manages, a blush creeping into her cheeks.  “I want you to make me come. With your tongue. Your fingers.”

“That's my girl,” he praises, and once more places his forearm across her stomach to hold her in place.  His hair tickling the insides of her thighs as he finally dips his head down between them. “You're so wet, baby,” he says, revelling in the moisture that drips out of her,  the smell of her.  “All this for me?”

“Only for you,” she confirms. “Only for you, Tyler.”

He finally gives her what she wants. His tongue pushing through the folds and coming in contact with her clit. A long, slow lick that has a strangled cry escaping from her lips, eyes closing, head falling back into her pillow.  There's no more teasing. No more holding back. He knows her body so well; knows exactly what she likes and exactly what to do to drive her crazy. And he lets go of her hands, slipping two fingers inside of her.  Lips attached to her clit, sucking at it as his fingers work their magic. Slow, languid strokes. Pressing them in as far as they can possibly go.  Encouraged by the noises she makes; the groans and the sighs and the soft cries.  Making her cry out when a third finger joins in and he increases the speed and power behind them. Tongue circling and pressing against her clit. Until he feels her begin to tremble and her hands reach for his hair once more. He allows it this time; letting her yank and twist at those longer strands as his mouth and his fingers bring her to a powerful completion.  His name exploded from her lips in a scream.

He removes his fingers, licking the fluid off of them before pressing a kiss to each of her inner thighs and the moving up her body; his weight supported on his hands. Kissing her long and deep, letting her taste her own juices on his lips and tongue, and continuing to press small, feathery pecks to her mouth while she comes down from her high.  Hoovering over her, forehead pressed against her, until her body stops trembling and she opens her eyes.

“I feel like I should say thank you,” she says, and then giggles, and then raises her head to kiss him. “Do you want me to...”

He knows what she's offering. And that isn't what he wants. At least not right now. “Later,” he says, and then uses gentle hands to spread her thighs apart, kneeling between them. “You are so beautiful,” he praises. “You are so beautiful and I'm the luckiest guy in the fucking world.”

“You're not too hard to look yourself,” she says, her eyes dark and lustful as she takes in his naked form. The broad shoulders and chest, that tattoos and the scars, the thin sheen of sweat the glistens on his skin.

He takes hold of her hips and pulls her towards him, so her splayed thighs rest on top of his. Holding on leg behind the knee, wrapping his other hand around his cock and guiding it towards her entrance. Watching her expression when he presses into her, the way she cries out and closes her eyes and turns her face to the side. “Look at me....” he says, two gentle fingers against her cheek, turning her face towards him. “...baby...look at me...I want you to look at me...”

She obliges. Breathing ragged. Cheeks flushed.

“Don't ever be embarrassed,” he says. “Ever. Not with me.”

“I can't help it.  I'm not the same person I was five and a half years ago.”

“Neither am I.”

“I've gained weight,” she frets. “My butt is bigger. My hips are wider.”

“You've had babies. My babies.”

“And what happens when I get pregnant again? When I get fat again? If I can't lose the weight after? If I never go back to looking like I do. When you'll want someone else that does look like I used to.”

“Baby...stop...you're beautiful...” he drops his head to press a series of kisses to her collarbone. “...you are so beautiful and I love you so much and I'm never going to stop.  I don't want anyone else. For the rest of my life. Just you.”

“Really?”

Tyler nods, then decides to change his approach. This isn't what she needs right now; a quick and hard fuck. She needs to feel close to him. She needs to feel that the words he is saying are true. She needs to be shown that they're true.  He kisses her; gathering her into his arms, never pulling out of her as he rolls over onto her side. Their tongues moving slow and undemanding against each other, her breasts pressed against his chest,  his hand moving from her hip, travelling down the side of her thigh and around to the back of her knee. Bringing her leg up to drape over his hip. And she gasps into his mouth as he presses into her with one fluid, strong stroke.

She clings to him as he makes love to her. Her arms tightly wound around his neck, her lips against his ear. And he presses kisses over her shoulders and her collarbone; the rough and dirty talk replaced with much sweeter, loving words. About how much he adores her. Worships her. How good it feels to be inside of her. How he will never....ever...get tired of that feeling. That he loves her. That he always will. Until the day he dies.

He only hopes that day isn't hiding around the next corner.

[snarkwriteswrasslin]

sprung spring | backseats and phone calls; kyle o’reilly [m]

PROMPTS USED:

Backseat + car + spontaneous sex + desperate + “car sex looks so much easier in the movies.” + revenge on an ex sex + while one is on the phone + “Answer the phone, I dare you.” + “Did you like it?” “Would you judge me if I said I did?”+  Caught off-guard kiss -

NOTES:

So.. This is one that I really, really enjoyed writing because it gave me a chance to kinda play with interruptions / tension levels. I have to give a huuuge hug to @kyleoreillysknee​ for the major inspiration given and the line that I used about marking / “wearing marks with pride”. Naturally, this was going onto the blog when I found it again bc I’m lowkey proud of the way it turned out.

WARNINGS:

uhh.. body fluids, almost having sex in the backseat of a car, slightest hints of dominant!focused Kyle, sex while on the phone, oral sex..

PAIRING:

Kyle O’Reilly x OFC, Sophia

                       KYLE O’REILLY & SOPHIA in

                   BACKSEATS & PHONE CALLS;

One look into those eyes told the tale and all Kyle could do as a result was sigh and pull her close. Normally, she’d keep a little distance but tonight she just went into his arms, her own looping around his neck.

Sophia didn’t even realize she’d actually started to cry until she was; the tears soaking the front of Kyle’s black tee shirt. Look at me, she thought to herself, I’m a pathetic mess. If I keep going, I will lose Kyle too. And almost the instant the thought registered in her mind, it brought forth a slew of others, the most prominent being the realization that losing Kyle in any capacity… It really bothered her. It was upsetting to even consider. Kyle had always been a part of her life, but as she stood there, looking up into those eyes, watching the way that strong jaw set when he realized what had happened… Something was happening and whatever it was had her heart all fluttery and her stomach rolling lazily, almost as if she were nervous.

Or anticipating something.

And the final thing she noticed was that the tension that had been hanging around lately was… So much heavier tonight. She almost couldn’t breathe.

Rather than say anything that might make him angry enough to go find her current boyfriend and explode, Sophia chose to settle against him. Lightly. Almost warily, because she could feel the tension in his body as it pressed against hers.

Kyle let out a ragged breath before he could stop himself and trying to stay as calm as possible, though God knows, he found himself thinking, the next time I get my hands on this Mikey guy, I will wreck him how dare he keep hurting her like he does, he found himself staring down at Sophia, his hands loosely gripping at her waist only to wind up raising one as soon as he saw more tears threatening to fall, his thumb rolling easily over soft skin as he caught the tear mid track. “C’mon, Sophia… Don’t cry so hard. You know what’ll happen.” he kept staring at her until she was pressing against him all over again, her face buried in his t shirt and his nose buried in the crown of her hair. His hands lowered down to her waist again, fingertips digging in carefully as he fought his quick temper and the urge to go find Mikey and kick the fucking shit out of him once and for all.

“Just sucks.. Tired of not bein’ enough.” she muttered the words softly against his chest and Kyle heard them. He couldn’t keep fighting this, whatever he’d been feeling for Sophia. He’d spent years literally trying to deny and bury it deep down, but hearing her say that just caught him in a weak moment.

Every moment with her is a weak one, O’Reilly, face it. You love her. Always have. The thought was there and gnawing at him.

He sighed against the crown of her hair and a hand ghosted up from where it rested on her waist, curling beneath her chin and forcing her to look up at him despite the fact that he hated seeing her cry. He barely held back the quiet growl of frustration over it and then he sighed, shaking his head. “You’re more than enough, babe.”

Every last ounce of fight it off that Kyle O’Reilly possessed turned into fuck fighting it anymore and he had Sophia backed against a cold brick wall, pressing into her, leaning down ever so slightly, his lips inching dangerously towards hers, his repeat of what he’d said seconds before almost a snarl as his fingertips dug into her sides and he tried to fight the surge of anger he felt at Mikey, continuing to make her feel this way time and time again and just the sudden surge of raw passion he felt flooding him that wouldn’t be hidden tonight of all nights as far as Sophia was concerned. His mouth crashed against her mouth and her eyes popped open wide as a quiet gasp leaked slowly from her lips, only to be quickly captured and swallowed by his own.

Sophia’s hands were resting palm down against his shirt, but as soon as it seemed to sink in what was happening, her fingers tangled in the fabric and her other hand raised, dragging through his hair, tangling in the curls at the nape of his neck, clinging to his taller frame as if she were drowning and only he could save her. “Oh.Oh.” she sighed against his mouth as her tongue darted out, tracing his lips, then his teeth, darting between them to tangle with his tongue all over again.

Was this really happening?

It all felt like a dream.

One of her deepest hidden ones, at that. The thought bubbled to the surface just as the kiss broke and Kyle’s hand left her hip to drag slowly through his hair as he let out a long and slow, very shaky breath and just… stared.

Neither of them were really saying anything, both wide eyed and shocked. The ringing of Sophia’s cell phone shattered the heavy silence between them and Sophia glanced down at it, shaking her head sadly. “And there’s the excuse.”

Kyle reached out, pinning her against the wall all over again, his hand going down to her hand, untangling the Galaxy from it, slipping it into the pocket of his leather jacket as he crashed his lips against her mouth all over again, an almost animal groan escaping the second her lips parted and swallowed the sound. The blunt of his teeth scraped and tugged at her lower lip until she felt it swelling at the contact and he breathed out the firm command against her mouth, “Don’t answer it. Fuck him for not treating you like a queen, babe.”

Rather than argue, Sophia nodded, surrendering to another round of intense, groping kisses. When she rubbed against Kyle almost needy, Kyle shivered all over and hauled her up into his arms. “I’m gonna take you home, okay? It’s late and too cold out.”

“Your place… Right?” Sophia purred against his neck. Kyle’s fingers dug into her body just so he didn’t drop her and he coughed to clear his throat, muttering huskily, “If that’s what you want, Sophia.”

“Please? I… I don’t wanna be alone tonight.” Sophia sighed, shaking her head at herself as she started to look down at the ground.

“You weren’t going to be either way.” Kyle answered honestly as he navigated the parking lot, stopping at the passenger side of his SUV to unlock it, opening the door and sitting her into the passenger seat.

The club she’d been waiting on Mikey to show up at was starting to prepare for last call. Clubgoers were making their way past, laughing and talking, stumbling drunkenly towards their cars and it all just fell away as Kyle stepped between Sophia’s legs, leaning in, conquering her mouth in a hungry kiss all over again. The kiss turned into something much more intense.

It all started when Sophia’s hand strayed, lingering with uncertainty at the hem of Kyle’s black tee shirt, fingertips trailing real slow over his abdomen after disappearing beneath. Kyle’s fingers trailed over Sophia’s bare thigh, tracing lazy patterns into her soft skin and raising goosebumps with each and every single little touch.  Her lashes fluttered against his face and he bit back another quiet growl, hands raising, caressing her cheeks as he stared down into her eyes. She wasn’t crying anymore, but her mascara had smeared, making inky tear treks down her cheeks and the more Kyle looked at them, the more he wanted to kick Mikey’s ass.

… Or, you could do what you really want to do… the thought popped in and rather than shove it out, Kyle found himself in a position for once where he couldn’t. She’d kissed him back. She was still kissing him, still touching. Clinging to him. Looking up at him with those big green eyes as if she were entranced. The look in her eyes was what lead to his ultimate and total undoing.

“Fuck. I need you.” Kyle muttered the words against her neck as his mouth broke from her lips and lazily trailed down, teeth nipping here and there, careful, but also careless. He wanted to leave her all marked up. He wanted it known she belonged to someone from here out. Sophia came alive in his arms, rubbing against him, almost desperate for more, to be closer. The little bit of friction she was getting just wasn’t enough. She didn’t care enough to stop what was happening because it was starting to sink in… She’d wanted this to happen.

Probably for a much longer time than she’d ever be able to put to words.

Before she could stop herself or be bothered to show restraint, she was pulling at his shirt, pulling him halfway into the cab of the SUV and he was chuckling, a hand resting palm down on the dash as his other hand continued to squeeze and caress her bare thigh. When she bucked herself against him, rubbing and making sure that body contact between them lingered, Kyle’s hands went straight to her hips and he scooted her towards him in the seat. She rocked against him all over again and gave the soft breathy response against his mouth, “Need you too. Fuck.. Kyle just… Make me forget? Please?”

“Oh, I’m gonna make sure you forget.” Kyle’s eyes locked on Sophia and he licked his lips hungrily, nodding to the backseat of the SUV, his eyes darting back to her as he leaned in and his hands gripped her thighs again, squeezing harder. “Get in the backseat, babe. C’mon. Let me take care of you, hm?” his voice a thick and lazy whisper against her skin as he met her gaze.

Sophia nipped at his lower lip, pulling his mouth down against her own all over again as she muttered quietly, “Fuck me.” and if she didn’t want him so badly, need him so much… She’d almost want to crawl into a hole and die at how pathetic she had to seem to him. She’d definitely be freaking out because this… Crossed so many lines.

She could wind up losing him if this backfired. The thought scared the living hell out of her and gave her pause for just a split second before being shoved out of her head in favor of just… Giving in. Because giving in felt so much fucking better tonight.

She managed to pull herself away from him and in a hurry, bumping her head on the ceiling of the SUV in her haste, she made her way over the console and into the backseat. Once she was settled in, Kyle shut the passenger door in a hurry, opening the back one, climbing into the seat, wasting no time in pulling her into his lap. When they smacked faces as they both went in for a kiss at the same time, Kyle swore quietly, pulling away for a second, wincing through shared laughter. “Are you okay?” Sophia asked, eyeing him in concern. Kyle laughed it off and went in for another kiss while leaning into her so that she had to lay back against the seat, settling himself over her carefully, swearing quietly when his foot immediately butted right up against the door and he saw her head about to hit the armrest on her side of the long bench seat when she slid up just a little more to hopefully give him room.

He took a deep breath, preparing to lean down, his hand against the back of the seat and his other hand gripping the seat beside her head. She hissed and bit her lip with a pained look in her eye and Kyle happened to look down and realize that long red locks were trapped beneath his hand and naturally, he’d accidentally given a hard tug. “Fuck.” he chuckled as he removed his hand and let her move her hair, dipping his head down again, his teeth hooking on her lower lip and tugging as he pulled her into a slow and deep kiss.

“Car sex looks so easy in the movies.” Sophie laughed into the kiss as she rubbed against him and almost kicked the window when trying to wrap her legs around his hips to pull him down on top of her completely. Kyle was taking a few seconds to get himself back under control, to think.

Just as his hand disappeared under the front of her crop top and he was squeezing and kneading her breasts in his hand with her rubbing herself against him harder and with more urgency as she rose up, meeting his lips in a deep and needy, almost bruising kiss, there was a loud knock at the window and the two shared a moment’s panicked look. Whoever knocked must have walked away, because when Kyle rose up, peered through the glass, no one was there. It still only further drove home the point that maybe whatever was going to happen needed to happen behind closed doors. Where he could take his time with her. Show her how good it could be with the right man. A real man.

Kyle leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers. “Maybe that’s a sign we need to move this to my place? If you..” before he could finish or ask, Sophia’s fingertip was pressing against his lips, silencing any doubt and the flow of his words as she nodded and leaned up, meeting his mouth, whispering into it, their lips brushing with each word she spoke in response, “God yes. I want to. I meant it, Kyle. I… I want you to make me forget about everything but you.”

Kyle gave a cocky smirk and chuckled quietly, teeth tugging at her lower lip as he mumbled back, “That can definitely be arranged, babe. You know I’m going to take care of you.. Right?” his tone getting firmer as he locked eyes with her, biting his lip, letting his eyes roam over her slowly as they rose to sit up. He leaned in closer, fingertip resting on a kiss-swollen lower lip and asked in that same firm tone, “I asked you a question, babe.”

Sophia swallowed hard, a long sigh leaving her lips accompanied by a whine when just as Kyle’s mouth brushed right against her own as he spoke, he backed up ever so slightly, almost as if he were teasing. When he took that tone with her, she couldn’t help but whimper quietly and try to get her mouth and brain working in tandem again as opposed to working against one another as she stared at him helplessly.

She grazed her teeth softly against his fingertip and he gave a quiet warning growl, brown eyes fixed on her unwavering, waiting on an answer. “You always take care of me, Kyle. Even when maybe I don’t deserve it.” Sophia finally managed to answer, leaning in closer, brushing her lips against his as she answered. The only difference this time was that when she did it and went to back away and tease him back, Kyle’s fingers caught on her chin, cupping and he pulled her mouth right back in hungrily, quiet growls and groans disappearing into the dizzying and bruising kiss he gave.

When it broke, he rested his forehead against hers and muttered lazily, “We need to get going. Before I change my mind and just show you how much I want to take care of you tonight right here and right now. We’ve already almost been interrupted once.” as he slowly backed away, a hand on the door handle, opening it and removing himself from the backseat. Sophia pouted for a second before clumsily making the climb from the backseat to the passenger seat.

The second Kyle was in the driver seat again, his hand was slipping over the console, his fingers dancing lazily over her bare thigh as he muttered to himself about her short little sundresses and how tempting they’d always been. Raising one of her hands to his lips to brush them against her knuckles. Anything he could do to just… Touch… He was going to do it.

Might as well just let it all out, Kyle thought to himself, because if I have my way about things, tonight is going to be the night she finally sees -and feels because God help me, she is going to feel it when I’m done with her, how much I love and care about her.

“Tempting, huh?” Sophia blinked at his words, at the husky and heavy tone in his voice right now that had her clenching her thighs tighter and tighter with each second that passed and at the fact that one look into those deep brown eyes of his was enough to reveal the almost primal desire burning within. She’d never even realized he felt that way, hell… She’d never once thought she might even have half a chance and so she’d settled for just being best friends. Buried her little crush deep down. So deep that until tonight, when he kissed her the way he did, she’d almost successfully forgotten all about it.

But now that he’d kissed her, it was all she could think about again.

At a red light less than a block away from the nightclub, Sophia decided that if he were going to act on it, so was she. She leaned in over the console, nuzzling against his neck, slowly trailing her lips down the side of it. Kyle’s hand tightened on the wheel and on her thigh, fingertips digging deep into soft skin; almost bruising. He cleared his throat and gave a dark chuckle, catching hold of her hand and lowering it to his lap. “Do you feel what you’re doing to me?”

Sophia’s thighs tightened and she gave a quiet whimper, daring to ghost her palm over the bulge strained against his favorite jeans and leaning in, she nipped at his earlobe as she mumbled softly, “Oh.. Mmm..” and giggled when Kyle bucked against her wandering hand, giving her a firm look of warning before leaning in, crashing his mouth against her mouth hungrily and practically growling into another brief and bruising kiss, “You’re in for it now, Sophia.”

“Oh I am, am I?”  Sophia hummed against his mouth, her tongue tangling with his after briefly tracing over his teeth and smiling into the kiss, more than a little smug. This.. Whatever was happening between the two of them right now.

This felt good. This felt right and real.

The light went green and Kyle sped off, only thinking about getting them to his place. He had to have her. He had to make sure that by the end of tonight she knew exactly where she stood in his eyes. Where she’d always stood. Tonight, Kyle O’Reilly fully intended to make her his at last. He’d stop at literally nothing to make sure she knew she was wanted, needed and loved and she always had been; always would be.

Minutes seemed to stretch to hours but finally, after about fifteen, they were pulling to a stop in the parking spot designated for Kyle’s SUV outside of his apartment building and he was killing the engine, reaching out as soon as he heard the soft clink that signified her seat belt was unfastened. He pulled her over the console, helping her into his lap, bucking himself up into her almost as soon as she was settled in his lap. Sophia hissed and moaned, rubbing right against him, her mouth all over his neck until he gripped her jawline and tugged it back up to his own mouth. “Ah ah. My mouth’s up here, babe.” Kyle grunted breathlessly as he broke the kiss to pull away and stare at her, flashing a playful smirk when she whined and pouted at him breaking the kiss.

Sophia grabbed at his jaw, pulling his mouth against her own, her teeth clenching at his lip. “Did I say stop?”

“No, you didn’t.” Kyle muttered, groaning as she started to really press down against the way he strained at his jeans, hips rocking harder and faster. When he felt her soaking through her panties, he let out several shaky breaths and his hands dug into her ass as he rocked himself up into her and nodded to the door that lead to his apartment. “I think, babe..” he practically hummed the words against her neck as he buried his lips there, sucking hard, leaving a mark behind, “We need to move this inside.”

“Y-yeah.” Sophia managed to mumble softly against his neck as her lips danced over his pulse making her giggle as she felt the shiver when it raced through his body. She moaned when he bucked into her harder, his fingertips digging into her ass even deeper. Without another word, Kyle was opening the door to his SUV and stepping out, not even bothering to untangle her from his body. Sophia  clung to him, her legs circling his waist, squeezing to hold herself up. Her back met the door of the apartment with a soft smack and she grimaced against the cold but quickly focused on Kyle… The way his hands were wandering even more; bolder while also managing to dig around and find his apartment key. He kicked the door open with his foot, sitting her down on the sturdy kitchen table as he shed his jacket and dropped his keys on the shelf beside the door. This entire time, the distance between them, the lack of him… Pressing against her, touching her, kissing her.. It had her pouting and watching him intently, biting her lip as she did so. Kyle looked up from taking off his boots and he bit his lip, stepping between her parted legs as he rubbed his chin in thought.

“I believe we were right about…” he leaned in slow; too slow for her liking because she was meeting him eagerly to mutter soft against his mouth, “Yeah?”

“Here.” Kyle’s hand disappeared beneath the hem of her dress and he nipped at any bare skin available to him as his palm cupped her core, rubbing hard, a ragged hiss being swallowed by the meeting of their mouths when he realized just how soaked she was already. “Dripping already, babe? I bet he never did this… Did he?” Kyle’s hand started to rub faster, and as she managed to moan out the word no while rocking her hips against his hand faster in response to each rub, he crashed his mouth against her mouth and promised firmly, “Gonna make you forget everything about him, babe. I promise you that.”

“Kyle, please.. Need you now.” the words left her mouth in a desperate and loud whimper as she tried to rub her entire body against his own, starved for the friction, his touch. His everything, if she had to be totally honest.

Mikey wasn’t affectionate at all for the most part. And he never bothered with all the teasing and marking her up. As long as he got off, Sophia found herself thinking bitterly, he didn’t care how good I felt and god this is so… different. Kyle has barely done anything and all he’d have to do is tell me and I’m pretty sure I’d cum… She’d never seen this side of her best friend before and seeing it now was definitely something to think about. She’d been missing out on all of this and… Settling.

After tonight, Sophia thought to herself as she tugged frantically at Kyle’s tee shirt only to have him lower her hand and give her a scolding look as he slowly shook his head, I am all Kyle’s. I can’t just pretend this didn’t happen -or that I didn’t want it to happen deep down, because I did and I do and I want him.

Her mind kicked into overdrive, her touches got needier, more frantic. Kyle picked up on it and he stopped, tilting her chin, making her look him in the eye. Lust blown green eyes locked on him and she bit her lip, moving herself closer to him as Kyle smirked down at her and allowed it. His fingers brushed aside a drenched cotton barrier before ultimately deciding that barrier was just in his way and tearing them off, tossing them onto the floor and as soon as his fingers drifted lazily over her warmth he bit his lip and eyed her up, leaning into her heavily enough that she was almost laying back on the table. “Fuck.”

The sound of her cell phone ringing nearby didn’t fully register the first two or three times that it did. By the time it started to ring again, Kyle gave it a glare and muttered against her neck while burying his fingers deep into her heat, scissoring and massaging, “Answer the phone.”

Sophia met his firm gaze with a puzzled one of her own. Why the hell did he seem like he was encouraging her to answer a call from Mikey, who from this moment forward, she was referring to as her past? And then, she caught sight of the ambery glow in his eyes as he fixed them up on her. “Sophia.” his tone was firm again. Serious. Like he had something to prove. Like he was about to tease the hell out of her and give her even more to think about.

Kyle licked his lips, sinking down to his knees between her widely parted legs, an almost primal growl against her skin as he kissed up the inside of her thigh and his fingers continued to slowly fuck in and out of her dripping heat. “I said.. Answer the phone. I dare you, Sophia. C’mon.” his mouth migrated higher up her thighs.

For about two minutes, the phone stopped ringing.Sophia let out a ragged breath as his thick tongue worked slowly over her slit, circling her clit and then moving back down slowly, carefully before repeating the entire thing over again and sending shivers through her body. His fingers movements slowed drastically and his tongue ghosted between her folds, teasing at entry. The phone started to ring all over again and Kyle muttered hoarse against her cunt, “Go ahead, babe.. Answer the phone. Answer or I’ll stop.”

Sophia definitely didn’t want him to stop, so she reached out, removing her fingers from the edge of the table where she’d been gripping to do so, fumbling around until she found the damned irritation.

Just as she picked it up, breathless, to hear Mikey swearing on the other end about her not being at her place and demanding to know what was going on, Kyle’s tongue slipped deeper into her core, joining his fingers in their delicious slow and steady torment. “Fuck..”

“Sophia? What the fuck is going on?” Mikey glared at the phone in his hand as he paced the hallway outside Sophia’s apartment. He banged on the door again, but no answer. Surely she’s here, he thought to himself, she always comes straight home.

Kyle’s mouth curved upward in a smirk and he muttered against her pelvic mound, “Go on, babe.. Tell him what’s going on.” as his teeth scraped against her skin, raising goosebumps all over her body and making her moan all over again. Her other hand left the table and tangled in the crown of Kyle’s head, tugging.

“I’m.. Ah, fuck.. Kyle. Mmm..” Sophia whimpered as Kyle’s tongue rolled lazily and he reached up, tilting her hips, rocking them against his mouth, growling at the way her juices dripped just enough to give him a little bit of a taste already.

“What the fuck?” Mikey was angrier now, swearing. “What the fuck are you doing, huh? Is this because I was runnin late?”

Kyle heard the second her soon to be ex started to explode and rant and he chuckled against Sophia’s skin, muttering in a calm and firm tone, “I bet he couldn’t make you come undone like this. I bet he didn’t even try. You wanna let go for me so bad, don’t you? I know you’re close. I can taste you already. Not yet. Not until I tell you so.”  

“Shit.” Sophia was rocking her own hips against Kyle’s mouth now, eagerly, dangerously close to getting off. “Faster, Kyle… Please.” she begged breathlessly and when Kyle happily obliged for a few seconds, she tensed. She could feel her orgasm beginning to grow to an almost dizzying height. Her breath caught in her throat.

“I fuckin knew you and that Kyle guy were closer than friends.” Mikey was beyond livid now, Sophia could hear him punching at the wall in the background. Kyle muttered lazily against her cunt, “Go on, babe. Tell him. Tell him everything.” as his tongue and fingers slowed, allowing her to catch her breath and back away from the orgasm threatening to shatter through at any second. Sophia shivered and whined, trying to rock her hips against his mouth a little more, desperate for friction and she gave this soft little laugh. “I’d say you’re wrong but.. Fuck… Kyle, please… Oh yeah, right there.. Fuck.” she exhaled sharply, continuing to address Mikey, “You’re not wrong. At least Kyle bothers to get me off.”

“Okay, babe… You’ve earned it. You can let go for me now. C’mon.. I’m dying to really taste you. Fuck..” Kyle breathed against her skin, “I am going to enjoy licking you clean.” and Sophia’s orgasm shattered through, the phone in her hand dropping with a noisy thud against the hard wooden tabletop, her other hand tangling in Kyle’s hair even more as she rocked her hips harder and faster against his face at his urging. Kyle’s sloppy lapping sounds were enough to draw a chorus of needy moans from her and as she rode out her orgasm against his willing mouth, Kyle glanced up, watching her come undone the way she was, an almost animalistic growl coming at the sight of her breathless and almost sweating, her teeth clenching at her lip as she gripped at the table and anything else she could get her hands on.

The noise of dial tone had Kyle raising up from between her legs, leaning down to conquer her mouth in a heated kiss, his hands all over her as she went straight for his tee shirt. He lowered her hands, pulling it off for himself, tossing it onto the floor. When she glanced down, he tilted her chin to make her look back up.

“So.fucking. Beautiful.” he deepened the kiss as he tugged down his jeans and underwear, letting them hit the floor, kicking them free at the ankles. He leaned down, scooping her towards him, stepping away from the table and gently tossing her onto his sofa, following her body down, settling above her, positioned between her legs to keep them spread. He gazed down at her, a finger pressed to his lips and this almost wicked gleam in lust darkened brown eyes. “Mine now. All mine.” he growled into her mouth as he leaned down, greedily stealing another deep kiss and making her breath catch as he did so. She clung to his body, rubbing against him as she whimpered and whined and begged aloud for it, the sounds of her begging and their gasping panting breaths filling the room and lingering in the air.

“All yours, Kyle.” Sophia gasped out as she felt his length trailing right up her slit, the tip teasing at entry and she looked up at him, trying to pull him down against her and he obliged. As his cock sank in deeper, he went still, letting her get used to being filled up and stretched out.

“Are you good?” Kyle asked as he finished trailing lazy and slow kisses all over her face and neck before settling his lips against her mouth.

“Kyle, please. Now.” Sophia begged in a whimper, rocking her hips into him, only to pout when Kyle’s hands caught hold of her hips, holding them still. And then he started to fuck into her, slow and deep and hard, the snap of his hips as they connected with her body echoing off the other wise quiet room.

Her head fell back and she met each drive into her cunt with a euphoric thrust of her own hips and Kyle groaned, fingers digging into her hips as he groaned into her skin “You take me so well. Damn. I’m going to fucking love burying my cock deep inside you any time you want me. Fuck. I’m addicted.” and continued to slam into her with slow and deep and steady thrusts.

Sophia gasped as he bottomed out, tilted her hips and started to hit a spot that had her knees trembling and her breath catching in her throat. “Kyle, fuck, baby, please… Don’t stop.” she begged, clinging to his body as another orgasm started to build to an almost dizzying intensity, sending a dull throb racing through her sex because he’d been guiding her close to the edge only to drive her away from it all night.

It didn’t appear to be a pattern changing anytime soon because even now, at the feel of her body tensing and her walls vising his cock, Kyle was slowing to an almost stop, lips dragging over every patch of skin he could get them on, touching her all over, chuckling into her skin as he muttered quietly, “Not yet, babe.”

“Kyle, please… Need.. Fuck.” Sophia moaned against his chest as her nails dug lightly into his back. Kyle groaned, nipping hungrily at her collarbone, the feel of her nails against his skin driving him dangerously close to just pounding her.

“You need what, hm? Use your words. Tell me what you need, babe.” Kyle stared down at her, catching his breath. Words couldn’t even begin to express just how beautiful she was right now, all pinned beneath him, whimpering and moaning and clinging to him. He raised a hand, caressing her cheek and smoothing her hair back out of her eyes, brushing his lips right against her lips as he started all over again, fucking into her slowly. As deep as he could. Making sure she felt every single inch.

Sophia shivered and cried out, trying to speed up the pace. Kyle’s hand lowered, gripping her hips to hold them still. “I told you to use your words. Tell me what you need.”

“You.” Sophia moaned out, adding in a quieter whimper, “Harder and faster.” and Kyle chuckled, deepening the kiss. “See? Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“No.” the word lingered as Kyle started to fuck into her even harder and just a little faster. He trailed his tongue along the outer edge of her ear and mumbled against it, “Tell me something, babe?”

“Yeah?”

“Did he ever… even once… Ask you what you wanted?”

The shake of her head had him shaking his own and parting her lips with his tongue as he asked quietly, “Do you wanna cum? Because I fucking love the way you tighten around my cock, fuck.”

“Please?” Sophia managed to whimper as her lips latched onto his collarbone, sucking, leaving another big mark behind and making Kyle smirk as he stared down at the reddish purple mark on his skin when it formed and her mouth pulled away. “That’s it, babe. Mark me. Let me wear it with pride.”

The marks she left behind on him seemed to be just enough to push him; right over the edge he went, pounding away at her, harder and deeper. He sped up and Sophia’s whimpers and moans shattered the almost silence, making Kyle smirk down at her, nuzzling against her soft skin as he muttered quietly, “C’mon. You know what I want.”

Her orgasm shattered through her and Kyle’s fingers dug into her sides as he fucked her through it, groaning and growling aloud as he felt her absolutely coating him. “So wet. Mmm.” he muttered against her skin, the soft smack of little kisses peppered across it filling the air as she cried out his name. He had to slow down and he almost didn’t in time. Sophia’s legs clenched at his sides and she begged quietly, “Kyle, I want… Mmm.”

“Yeah, babe?” he hummed against her skin, staring at her, waiting on her to finish. “What do you want? Use your words.” he slowed down his thrusts, keeping them deep, bottoming out a time or two and making her whimper as she pulled his mouth against her own to mutter into it quietly, “Wanna feel you.”

“Oh you do, hm?” Kyle muttered, fixing lust blown brown eyes on Sophia as he started to pound away at her a little faster, biting his lip, focused on making sure that she absolutely felt every single inch. And the way she drove him crazy, how much he loved her and how he wanted to be her man. “If that’s what you want.” he breathed out against her mouth, the words swallowed up in a slow and deep and almost bruising needy kiss as she begged again to feel him.

Kyle’s orgasm shattered through him and he dug his fingers into her hips again, rocking them into him harder and faster, growling and groaning her name as he emptied inside her, pulling her into a kiss as he came undone and fucked through his orgasm. “Feels so good. So good.. Sophia.. Mmm.” he muttered as he started to slow down, dance his lips all over her bare skin and finally sank to the couch behind her, pulling her so that she was partially draped over him, his arms going around her and his nose pressing into the crown of her hair as he lie there, holding her. He tilted her chin up and she yawned, raising up to press her lips against his. “Not moving. Couldn’t if I wanted to.” she gave a tender and almost shy smile as he chuckled and asked quietly, “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“That was… Fuck… that was amazing. I’m not used to being this sore.”

“Get used to it.” Kyle muttered, trailing his tongue over her lips as he kissed her again and yawned himself. The sunlight was starting to peek through the living room window and he pressed a kiss against her forehead. “You wanna move this to bed? Maybe we can get some sleep..”

“If you’re carrying me. I truly meant it when I said I could not move, baby.” Sophia flirted, fixing an adoring gaze on Kyle as he rose to sit, pulling her into his lap, then standing, carrying her down the hall wrapped around his body….

[sunsetinmyvein]

I Know That I’ll Lose - Chapter Eleven - Might Stop (Me) You Bein’ Miserable

Her flight arrived at close to midnight a few days after they had chatted on the phone. Despite his usual hatred of airports, Matty felt like going to one this time was going to be worth it a lot more than all of those other times that he had been forced to be in one. So, he drove himself down, threw a beanie over his messy hair, pushed his way through the crowd, and waited patiently at the arrivals terminal. He could feel the excitement bubbling away in his brain. The rough plan was to see how things went in the first couple of days, then if it went well to take her on a proper date and tell her then. George had helped him a bit with what would probably be the best plan of action, as his first suggestion of ‘why can’t I just tell her as soon as she steps off the plane’ probably wasn’t exactly suitable. As soon as he saw her step out of the gate, he couldn’t help the grin that split across his face. All of his worrying over the last two weeks melted away. He had forgotten how much of a visceral reaction she had over him.

It was safe to say that as much as she was expecting to see Matty at the gate this time, she wasn’t expecting him to half-run over and pick her up in a hug when she was three steps into the terminal. It was strange after how evasive he had seemed only two weeks ago to see him now so clingy and open with how excited he was about her being in London with him. Not that she was complaining, she was just curious as to what had changed. He also seemed oddly jovial being in a place that he usually hated. It was also strange to see how tired Matty looked in the airport. The bags under his eyes seemed to rival the weight of her luggage, and it looked like he hadn’t shaved in a while.

“Are you doing all right?” She asked in concern after their initial greetings.

“Yeah, why do you ask?” He shot back over his shoulder as he ushered her back towards his car.

“You just…” It was hard for her to pinpoint what was off. He seemed entirely happy and like his usual self, but physically he looked run down. “You look like you’re pretty worn out.”

“I’ve never been better.” He grinned.

  On the way back to his place he talked about everything that had happened in the last couple of weeks, as well as everything that they were driving past (even though it wasn’t exactly easy to see these landmarks he was pointing out in the middle of the night) and also everything he was excited to show her while she was here. He didn’t get hyperactive like this super often, but it was endearing to see him so enthusiastic. They reached his front door, and she heard him take in a deep breath as he turned the key in the lock.

“This is my humble abode.” He stated proudly as he swung the door open. They took a few steps inside as she looked around.

“It doesn’t look very humble, Matty.” She noted, taking in the room. Everything was concrete. The floors, the walls, the ceilings, all of it. There were huge windows everywhere that she could only imagine let in a ridiculous amount of natural light during the day, the ceilings were very high with some exposed beams at the top, the decorating style was minimal but clearly to a certain refined and vintage sort of theme. “Minimalist maybe, but not humble.”

  As she stepped into the lounge room, the overwhelming smell of weed hit her nostrils. “Good lord, Matty. Are you trying to hotbox your house or something?”

He laughed loudly. “Sorry, I get used to it and forget other people aren’t.” He said as he opened a window. As the echo of pitter-pattering paws could be heard coming down the hallway, a massive smile found its way onto his face. “And this,” He started, turning in the direction of the sound. “is Allen!” He beamed as a large brown dog rounded the corner excitedly. After some love and praise from his owner, the bullmastiff came bounding up to her.

“How do you go about having a dog when you’re on tour all the time?” She questioned in between greeting the overzealous pooch.

“My mate Sam looks after him whenever I’m away. Which is most of the time, really.” He laughed honestly. “But it’s nice to be able to steal him back for a bit when I’m home.”

  Once Allen had calmed down about a new person being in the house, Matty continued his tour.  Despite that it definitely wasn’t a house she’d ever consider buying herself, objectively it was a very nice place. It was very… ‘Matty’, for lack of a better adjective. Eventually they arrived at his bedroom, which was literally just a bed, two small bedside tables and a guitar sitting in the corner. There was a slightly awkward pause in their tour as she was reminded of the bags in her hands.

“So… uh… where am I sleeping?” She asked hesitantly.

He gave a short chuckle. “Your room is down here.” He said as he motioned down the hall. The spare room looked much the same as his, just it didn’t have an ensuite attached. “It’s pretty late, so I’ll let you get settled and get some rest. Give me a shout if you need anything.” She nodded a bit as she hauled her bags into the room. “Oh, and,” He started, waiting until she turned back to him before he continued, “you know I always have an open-door policy in effect for you, love.” He added with a wink, only getting an eye roll in response. “G’night!”

  * * *

  In the light of day, his house was very bright and inviting. She had crashed pretty quickly after he left her to go to sleep, but was woken up at about eight once the sunlight started streaming in through the massive window opposite her bed. As she got up and padded around the house looking for her friend, she got a better look at the way he chose to surround himself when he was at home. The décor matched Matty to a tee, and it was nice to finally see things that he regularly mentioned like his favourite books and his vinyl. She was greeted by Allen first, before she finally found him sitting in his small courtyard, an open book sitting on his knee and a cup of tea in his hand. It reminded her of when she had been watching him in the studio a few weeks ago, he just seemed so peaceful and in his element. He glanced up as she approached the patio doorway.

“Oh, hey! I didn’t think you’d be up yet.” He smiled as he shut the book and put it on the table next to him. “I didn’t wanna wake you too early in case you were jetlagged.” He added as she took a seat next to him. The morning air was chilly, but sitting in the sun outside made it a lot more tolerable.

“Your house has too many windows for me to sleep in too much.” She chuckled. He nodded in understanding as he took a sip from his mug.

“I like it bright. Helps stop me from feeling overwhelmed about being cooped up and stuck inside when I’m at home for long periods.” He explained with a shrug.

  “So, what’s on the agenda for today?” She asked.

“I figured I could show you around a bit, and then I think the guys are wanting to come ‘round in the evening. They’re super keen to have you here, too.” He suggested, that eager smile returning that she had seen a lot last night. “Or if you weren’t up for that, we could just stay in and binge trashy TV shows.” He offered with a laugh.

“It’d be nice to see what Matthew Healy’s usual haunts are.” She replied.

He quirked an eyebrow at the use of his full name, but pressed on. “Sounds like a plan. If you wanna start getting ready, I’ll work out where we can hit up today.” He said as he pulled his phone out of his pocket to do some quick googling. It took a few minutes to find where the guest bathroom was located in his house given that pretty much every single room looked the same at first, and then quite a few more minutes to work out where the hell Matty kept any spare towels considering he had barely any cupboards anywhere, but eventually she was on the right track to being presentable after a long-haul flight. He’d stopped her before she’d gone to make herself any breakfast, suggesting they go to one particular location first that would tackle that issue for her.

  After locking up the house, they headed in the direction of stop number one. Everything about London was quite starkly different from anywhere else in the world that she had been. The architecture and history were fairly prominent everywhere you looked. It surprised her slightly that it was only after a couple of minutes walking that Matty motioned to a building, saying that this was where they had been heading. “I don’t drink a lot of it, but this is my favourite coffee shop.” He said as they stopped in front of a little hole-in-the-wall café. The only sign to alert someone that this place might serve hot beverages was a tiny plaque next to the doorway. “It’s a bit rubbish, really. But it’s quiet and I can get stuff done here if I’m not getting anythin’ done at home.” He shrugged with a laugh as he held the door open for her. It had a very homely feel inside. The lighting was warm and inviting, the shop smelled of fresh brewed coffee and baked goods, there was a couch by the door. It had all the signs of a good café. But he was right about it being quiet. There were only six tables in the narrow building and none of them were occupied. They sat down at the table furthest away from the door as she flipped through the simple menu that they had on offer. Once they worked out what they wanted from their limited options, they placed their orders - which were currently the only things being prepared and thus arrived at their table very quickly. Her growling stomach thoroughly approved of this.

  The food wasn’t bad at all, and the coffee itself was pretty damn good. Clearly Matty’s standards of a good coffee shop were a lot higher than her own. As they chipped away at their late breakfast, his overexcitable demeanour and sudden invitation for her to come out here played on Y/N/N’s mind. It felt like something had shifted. Not something major, but enough of a something to make Matty act slightly different than usual. And as much as Matty had said that he would see her soon whenever they’d finished up the tour, she knew full well that Matty said a lot of things he didn’t necessarily follow through with. So, she hadn’t really expected it to be this soon. Or at his house.

“How come you invited me out here?” She asked curiously as she took a sip of her coffee.

“Well, I’ve seen your place, it’s only fair you see mine.” He lied. This didn’t seem like the right time to blurt out ‘Hey, turns out I’ve actually been into you for a really fucking long time and just didn’t realise it. Surprise!’ He figured that could wait until later. “And it worked well with our downtime. I’d finished all the stuff I wanted to get done at home.” He added. At least that part wasn’t a lie. He couldn’t help but notice that she didn’t seem satisfied with that answer.

“Fair enough.” She nodded, deciding to drop it. For now, anyway.

“Are you enjoying it so far?” He asked, trying to keep his excitement about having her here from boiling over.

“I’ve been here for all of about nine hours, Matty.” She chuckled.

“Oh… Yes. That’s fair.” He said with a light laugh. 

  As soon as they had finished up, a waitress came over to clear away their dishes. She was surprised to see that no payment was exchanged before they left, until Matty explained that whenever he’s home, he just opens a tab with them and pays it off before he goes on tour again. “What’s next?” She asked.

“Allen’s favourite spot, c’mon.” He grinned, all but jumping out of his skin in excitement. They walked for about fifteen minutes before they approached a small, fenced in park. It wasn’t a huge amount of space, but for what it lacked in area it more than made up for in scenery. The dense foliage around the fence line made it seem a lot bigger than it actually was once you were inside, as it covered up the boundaries. There was a man-made creek in the middle of it that flowed from the higher side of the park down to the lower, with trees scattered along the edges. It had a couple of walking trails along the outside of the park that all met up in the middle, which had flower beds and benches intermittently placed along them. It was a very calming spot.

“This place is really beautiful.” She said in awe.

“I really love it. It’s so serene.” Matty chimed in, before being interrupted by a dog loudly barking on the other side of the park. “When there’s less dogs, anyway.” He added. “Allen loves to jump into that damn river and it’s so fucking muddy in there.” Matty laughed loudly. “Every time I take him here, I have to be prepared to bath him when we get home.” He said as he walked over to one of the benches and took a seat.

“Do you come here often without him?” She questioned.

“Sometimes.” He said with a shrug. “But I don’t often find the time to. Allen makes me find time.”

  They spent a bit of time in the park chatting. Matty mostly told stories of the many naughty things that Allen had done as a rebellious teenager in this park, which included hopping the fence numerous times. Their conversation pushed them through into the early afternoon.

“We probably have enough time for one more spot.” He said as he slid his phone back into his pocket after verifying the time.

“Sure, let’s get going then.” She grinned. So far, she was enjoying this short tour of Matty’s version of London. It felt like she was getting to know him a little better, and it was nice to feel like they were still close after how ignored she had felt at the tour after party. The last place on their list was back in the direction that they had originally come, but nearly half an hour’s walk away from the park. And she had to admit that when they got there, it was fairly underwhelming. “A studio? Really?” She asked with a roll of her eyes.

“It’s not on the list for the reasons you might think.” He challenged with a laugh as he unlocked the door and ushered her inside. It had a very similar layout to the studio that they had used while on tour, but she supposed designing something like this was probably a case of ‘if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.’ They walked through the building towards the back until they came to a staircase. After three flights, they finally reached a door. “You ready?” He asked as he started turning the doorknob, a look of childish glee on his features.

“I mean… I guess?” She was suddenly unsure about what she had agreed to. Ready for what?

  It turned out that the doorway lead through to the roof. From this spot, they had a pretty clear view across the city. She had to admit that it was just a tad impressive.

“If we’ve been here all day recording and end up going into the night, the view from up here is spectacular.” Matty explained with a nostalgic look in his eyes.

“I can only imagine.” She said with a nod, trying to take in the vast landscape.

“Coming up here also helps me clear my head if I’m stuck on something in the studio.” He continued. “It’s not quite as nice as the studios we’ve hired out in the countryside. Those are proper scenic. But this definitely gets the job done.” He finished with a chuckle. A few quiet minutes passed between them as they both took in the sights, before Matty’s constant need to fill the silence reared its head. “So?” He asked eventually, looking at her expectantly.

“What?” She asked back with a frown.

“Do my ‘usual haunts’ live up to the hype?” He elaborated, the morbid curiosity coming through in his voice.

“I guess they’re okay.” She shrugged, but the joking smile betrayed her nonchalance. “They’re really nice.” She admitted. “You seem to have some really good spots sorted out.”

A proud grin quickly found its way across his features. “You enjoyed your day, then?” He questioned.

“I would’ve enjoyed my day regardless of what we did.” She answered. For the first time, he was able to recognise the uncomfortable feeling in his chest at her comment and pin it down as not being a bad thing. Rather, it just spurred on his endless enthusiasm.

  Seeing Matty so open and vulnerable was starting to throw her a bit off balance. He was usually filled with a mix of arrogance, sarcasm, humour, suggestive comments and maybe just a little bit of honest emotion. But since she stepped off that plane it was a hell of a lot more of the latter compared to anything else. First, he invited her into his home, then he was constantly sincerely enthusiastic about her company, and now he was showing her his favourite spots in London. It wasn’t exactly a part of his usual demeanour around her to be so genuine. He’d said so himself that he liked that he didn’t have to be on his best behaviour in her company. As she stared out at the city laid before them, she had to wonder what the hell had happened to the Matty she spent the last six weeks with. She’d missed him like crazy over the last fortnight and now she was second-guessing if she really knew this man at all.

“I’d really like to show you more, if there was more time.” He added the last part of his sentence like it reminded him of something. The faraway look he got in his eyes when he said it made her want to ask him about it, but he kept talking before she got the chance. “But we’d better be getting back. The boys will be heading ‘round soon.” He huffed with purpose as he started heading back towards the door.

  They got back to his house shortly before the sun started setting. Which unfortunately didn’t leave them a huge amount of time between when they arrived and when the rest of the band were set to rock up. It wasn’t long at all before there was a knock at the door and Matty jumped up from the couch to answer it. When he came back, the crew were all together. It made her smile to see the four of them all in the same room again. The world felt a little bit more complete when they were together. But she didn’t have long to process that thought as she heard her name being called from every which direction by the three missing members of The 1975. They quickly poured into Matty’s lounge room and started wrapping her up in hugs.

“It’s only been a couple of weeks.” She pointed out, slightly surprised at how intense her welcome was turning out to be.

“Yeah, but it was weird not seeing you after seeing you every day for six weeks.” George said with a pout.

“There’s been nobody here to keep Matt in line. You have been sorely missed.” Ross laughed loudly.

“Hey, lay off.” Matty chuckled as he shoved the bassist’s shoulder playfully.

  Once a few quick greetings were given, and some money was exchanged between Ross, Adam and George for some reason, the alcohol and snacks were unloaded on Matty’s kitchen counter. Anyone would’ve assumed that they were throwing a party for two dozen people for how much stuff had been brought over. But Adam reassured her that they were very big on having options available. They decided that it would be a nice evening to sit outside in the courtyard and play cards, so once drinks were in hand, they all began making their way to the outdoor table. Matty and Y/N/N were the last to get their beverages, mostly because he just couldn’t decide what to pour. Eventually he settled on something worthy enough for his liver and made a drink, only to offer it to her first.

“Get drunk with me.” He said as he held the glass out to her.

“Sure, I’ll have a drink with you.” She shrugged as she reached out to take it. He pulled his hand back slightly.

“That’s not what I said.” He pointed out. She mulled over his words for a moment.

“You really want to get wasted on a Monday night?” She frowned with a light laugh.

“It’s not like we have any plans tomorrow.” He reasoned.

“I suppose…” She hummed thoughtfully, before deciding that there was really no reason not to. “All right, then.”

  After a few hours sat around Matty’s small outdoor table, their catch up was over and drinks were flowing nicely. A few drinking games had been played to try and keep everyone from feeling the bite in the air and to keep conversation alive. Y/N/N had passed the point of tipsy a little while ago, but the rest of the band still seemed a few steps behind her. Matty, true to his word of getting drunk together, was matching drink for drink but she supposed that maybe he just held his alcohol better than she did. The boys were playing some card game that she had long since lost interest in, so she had opted instead to watch something more interesting - Matty. She had rested her head across her arm on the table, partially to be able to stare at him uninterrupted, and also in part to try and help with the spinning in her brain. He had the stub of a joint sitting in between his fingers as he idly stared at the cards in his hand. Every now and again he took a drag on it and blew the smoke upwards, trying occasionally to make rings above him. He would watch them dissipate into the night sky before attempting again. His hair was half falling into his face despite his best attempts to keep it back. That fucking fluffy mop of hair. It was going to be the death of her. A little voice in the back of her brain felt like it would probably feel pretty pleasant to run a hand through it. Maybe that was why he did it so often. The rest of the band were still deep in conversation, to which he threw in the odd remark every now and again. She was enjoying just having the moment to study him. If she stared at him for this long when he was actually paying attention, he would’ve given her shit for it a good few minutes ago. His movements all seemed calculated as he played his cards and planned his replies, the expression in his dark brown eyes shifting from relaxed to concentrated whenever he had to do something.

  Everything about him was just constantly dragging her in, and it was safe to say that she had taken the bait. Hook, line and sinker. She’d been dying to see him after how they left things on tour. Especially after the fact that she had just been about to finally give him what he wanted. It was like she’d finally allowed herself the chance to be openly interested in him, only to have to cram her feelings back up again. His offer to come out here certainly hadn’t been unwelcome, it was just unexpected. That coupled with his sincerity since she arrived was both heart-warming and also mildly disconcerting as she couldn’t pinpoint where it was coming from. But at that moment, all she could think of was how happy she was right now. To be here with him, and their friends, in his house, after a day of being shown his favourite nooks and crannies of London. He seemed to be going out of his way to give her a good day. This was a Matty that she only ever saw glimpses of most of the time. As that thought crossed her mind, he glanced down at her to check that she was okay. Considering that he hadn’t heard anything from her in a little while he was slightly worried that she had passed out or something, but he was surprised to find her staring back up at him. He raised an eyebrow in curiosity, but she just continued watching him, now not looking away from his gaze.

“What?” He eventually asked.

“I’m super into you.” She answered honestly.

  For a brief moment, he was fairly certain that the planet physically stopped spinning and that time stood still. He let out a short laugh in disbelief at her blunt response to try and cover up his rapidly increasing pulse. The alcohol had been intended to loosen up his own tongue about internalised feelings, not hers. “Really?” He asked, grabbing his phone off of the table and holding it towards her. “Can you just say that again into this recording device so that I can play it back to you when you’re sober?”

“Sober me knows it too.” She said with a nod. The wave of relief that washed over him at hearing those words was unparalleled. He choked back his feelings for a minute to continue his train of thought.

“Then why doesn’t sober you ever fucking admit it?” He asked as he reached out and tapped her forehead.

“You have a big enough ego as it is.” She said as she waved her hand dismissively in his direction. He couldn’t deny that was a solid argument. “And also admitting it means having difficult conversationsssss.” She added, slurring her words slightly.

He frowned at that. “I mean, it doesn’t have to.”

“It does. It does for me.” She said with a nod. “I’m gonna get another drink.” She declared as she stood up and walked inside. Matty watched her carefully, noticing the slight stumble in her step. He threw his cards face up onto the table, following her into the house.

“Guess he’s not coming back.” Ross chuckled.

“I’m taking his chips.” George said quickly before anybody could stop him.

  “Conversations like what?” Matty asked as he pulled the glass door shut behind him and followed her into the kitchen.

“Like where we end up after I say that.” She explained as she glanced over all of the bottles of liquor spread across the counter.

Fuck. That was pretty much Matty’s number one worry as well. But he wasn’t about to let that stop him from at least trying. “Why do we have to think ten steps ahead?” He asked, racking his brain for an actual end game plan. “Can’t we just… start with step one?” He offered, seeing her go for the bottle of vodka and moving to grab the coke for her.

“Step one is a slippery slope to step ten.” She shot back with a pointed look.

“I promise I’ll slam on the breaks at step five.” She gave a light laugh at his joke as she poured her drink. “Really though, would it be so bad to see where it takes us?” He questioned, leaning against the counter.

She sighed as she put the coke back into the fridge. “But you still don’t have any idea where that might be, Matty.”

“Why’s it up to me?” He huffed as he pulled a hand through his hair. Why did he have to be the one making the big calls all the time?

“Because you’re the one in the world-famous band who has to work and travel all the time.” She had a valid point. “You need a plan about how to make that work.”

  She started heading back towards the door to continue chatting with the rest of the boys, only to feel Matty’s hand catch her wrist and pull her back towards him.

“Wait, I-” He started, feeling like he had more to say before this conversation was left to drunken half-memories. But for a man who was usually so eloquent with his words, his mouth was running dry now. And as the seconds ticked by in silence the tension in the air just continued to grow. He glanced down at his hand still on her wrist, wanting to find the solution to all of this that would instantly fix his problems and stop this burning feeling in his chest. It was almost definitely the alcohol talking but she was finally fucking over waiting and dealing with the constant flirting. So, she leaned in to kiss him, thinking now was at last the time to just give in. Just get it over with. Let herself be into him. Let herself act on it. Only to feel his hand on her shoulder holding her back. As much as he had been dying for this - her, it hadn’t exactly been his intention to make a move when she had just made it clear that she was waiting on him. He couldn’t let her throw herself under the bus like that, not after he knew how much she had already had to drink. He flashed her an apologetic look. “Sorry, love. That wasn’t…” Fuck, why couldn’t he just get the words out? “Not right now.”

“Why?” She frowned, eventually finding herself laughing. “It’s you who’s been pushing this for the last six months.” 

“We are definitely not on the same level of inebriation right now.” He said with a small chuckle. “Another time.” He promised.

  As soon as they stepped back outside, George could feel the awkward atmosphere that wafted out with them. He hadn’t quite heard what they’d been saying at the table before they went inside, but knowing Matty’s intentions when he invited her out here, it was probably safe to assume the topic. As opposed to letting his two friends stew over whatever had just transpired George got to quick work on changing the topic and including them in the conversation to get their minds off of it. Within a few minutes the vibe in the room had gone back to what it was at the start of the night. Drinks continued into the early morning before one by one people started putting themselves to bed. The rest of the band decided to crash at Matty’s place to save themselves trying to get home while they were shitfaced. Ross passed out on the lounge, Adam managed to make his way to the empty spare room, George found somewhere or other to rest his head. Which left just Y/N/N and Matty sat outside finishing off their last drinks. Their conversation earlier in the night wasn’t playing on their minds as much as it would be if they were sober, but it still sat somewhere in the back of their brains, waiting to be addressed. Matty decided that would be best left until tomorrow.

  He took the last sip of his drink before setting the glass on the table. “Ready to call it a night?” He asked, stifling a yawn.

“Mmm… sure.” She muttered with a shrug. “You gotta carry me, though.”

He gave an incredulous laugh in response. “I have to what?”

“Carry me.” She repeated.

“Why on earth would I do that?” He asked as he stood up from his chair, feeling his head spin for a moment before he felt sure of his feet. That last joint probably wasn’t wise.

“Because I’m too drunk to navigate your treacherous staircase back to my room.” She explained with a pout. He looked down at her, feeling his resolve quickly crumble around him.

“I’ll help you; I’m not carrying you.” He offered as he held his hand out to her to help her up.

“Fiiiiiine.” She huffed as she took his hand. He wrapped an arm around her and tried his best to manage not one, but now two drunk people getting up his concrete stairs. After much laughter and stumbling, they managed to make it to the first floor of his house.

  He led her back to the spare room that she was set up in, making sure that she was safely on the bed before pulling his arm away.

“Let me know if you need anything.” He said as she kicked her shoes off and crawled into bed.

“Where are you going?” She asked when he started making his way out.

“My room?” He answered with a confused frown.

“Why?” She questioned as she rolled over. He didn’t really know how to answer that. “You should just stay here.” She mumbled with her face half in the pillow. Fucking hell. First the kiss and now this? It was taking every ounce of his self-restraint and sense of standards to not just say yes. Was this what she had felt like whenever he pulled shit like this on tour?

“Not tonight.” He chuckled as he switched the light off. “Sleep well.”

Last Chapter

Next Chapter

[pcychedelic]

Lost Angels

Written for NoHappyEnding’s #NHEIV.

GIF by angel-in-slow-motion.

Relationship(s): Byun Baekhyun/Doh Kyungsoo

Tags: Hollywood AU, Flashbacks; Heavy Angst, Smut

Rating: Explicit (explicit themes, strong language, some violence, explicit sex, depictions of alcohol and drugs)

Content Warning(s): Substance abuse, implied suicide attempt, major character death

Words: 15.3k

Synopsis: A funeral brings Kyungsoo back to LA.

Present Day

Calle Larios is already packed with people at 10 a.m. on a Wednesday morning. Málagueños — or Spaniards, in general — aren’t known for being early risers, but everyone’s up and about this early on a weekday to do some last-minute shopping before the New Year rolls in.

Kyungsoo doesn’t mind the crowd. Living in Málaga for the past five years has desensitized him from hordes of people as the region of Costa del Sol attracts millions of tourists and expats each year. An expat himself, Kyungsoo is no stranger to people flocking to someplace else to get away from wherever they came from, whether it be for good or for a short vacation. As a matter of fact, that’s why he’s here in the first place.

Kyungsoo takes Chanyeol by the hand, weaving themselves through the crowd until they reach the end of the street and into Plaza de la Constitucion where their favorite coffee shop sits. Chanyeol goes on to order their usual: a sombra for him and a nube for Kyungsoo.

This is what a typical day in Málaga is like for them, a day they feel like they’ve lived for the hundredth time.

That is, until the shrill sound of Kyungsoo’s ringtone cuts through the noise of the plaza. The caller ID bears the name of someone Kyungsoo hasn’t heard from for quite some time.

“Hello?” Kyungsoo says as he brings the phone to his ear, gauging whether he should feel happy or worried that an old friend has called after so long. He immediately settles on the latter when he realizes that this phone call wouldn’t be happening if everything was alright. Kyungsoo glances at his wristwatch and makes a quick calculation to account for the time difference between him and the person at the other end of the line. “It’s almost 2 a.m. there. What’s wrong?”

A sigh resonates through the speaker. “You need to come home.”

* * *

The rest of the day passes by in a haze.

Kyungsoo still feels like his heart has been stepped on hours after hearing the news. If he’s going to be completely honest, going back to Los Angeles is something that hasn’t left his mind since he left — it’s like a rancid itch in his subconscious that just wouldn’t go away, but he had never imagined that it would be under these circumstances.

Kyungsoo has spoken very few words since the phone call this morning, but, as always, Chanyeol doesn’t try to force him to talk about it.

Chanyeol doesn’t let go of Kyungsoo’s hand even as he drives, even giving Kyungsoo small, reassuring smiles from time to time. But as much as Kyungsoo loves Chanyeol, the gestures do little to make him feel better.

But it isn’t Chanyeol’s fault. Grief doesn’t have a cure-all.

Soon, the city dissolves behind them and the airport comes into view. But as they inch closer and closer to the departure gates, a nagging thought at the back of Kyungsoo’s mind is telling him to turn around and sit this one out.

“Hey, are you okay?” Chanyeol asks.

Having realized just now that they’re already stopped, Kyungsoo nods weakly. “Yeah. I’m good. I’m just… scared.”

“Of coming back home?”

But that’s the thing: Kyungsoo doesn’t consider Los Angeles as home anymore.

Sure, that’s where he grew up in, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss it, but it’s also possible for one to miss something without wanting to go back to it. Los Angeles has been painful for the most part, and Kyungsoo’s afraid of reliving that pain when he sets foot there again.

But Kyungsoo can’t say any of those things, so he just gives Chanyeol a faint smile before stepping out of the car where he’s greeted by the cold winter air. Chanyeol follows suit and goes on to haul Kyungsoo’s luggage out of the trunk.

“You know, you don’t have to go alone,” Chanyeol says softly as he hands Kyungsoo his bags. “I have my passport with me. I can—”

“No, Yeol. You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” Chanyeol whispers, taking Kyungsoo’s hands into his. “But you said you were scared. You don’t have to force yourself to go alone if you don’t want to.”

“I haven’t been to LA since I left, so of course I’m scared,” Kyungsoo says. A half-hearted chuckle falls from his lips. “But this is something I have to do on my own. I think I owe him that much, at least.”

Chanyeol purses his lips. Kyungsoo expects him to say something along the lines of how he doesn’t owe anyone anything, but instead, Chanyeol simply nods. “Okay,” Chanyeol says after a while. “Kinda sucks how I won’t have my New Year’s kiss this year, though.”

Kyungsoo laughs, the first genuine one he’s allowed himself all day, and for a brief moment, his chest doesn’t feel like it’s carrying the world. He kisses Chanyeol, letting it linger for a couple of seconds before pulling away, and says, “There. It’s two days early, but you’ll take it, won’t you?”

Chanyeol smiles and touches the tip of his nose to Kyungsoo’s. “When have I ever said no to you?”

* * *

Kyungsoo hates nothing more than long-haul flights.

His body aches in places he didn’t know it could, and when he finally lands on LAX, he feels like he’s going to pass out at any moment. The fact that it’s 7 a.m. and already way too bright in Los Angeles isn’t helping his case because his body’s still running on Spanish time.

He sees Junmyeon outside the arrival gate almost immediately, holding a Starbucks cup in one hand and a poorly-handwritten sign that says ‘MY FAVORITE CLIENT’ in the other.

“I haven’t seen you in five years and the first thing you do is lie to me,” Kyungsoo comments flatly. “I wasn’t your favorite client.”

His former agent rolls his eyes and hands him the coffee. “Nice to see you too,” Junmyeon says. “You look like shit, by the way.”

Kyungsoo eagerly accepts the caffeine. His body sorely needs energy right now after that horrendous eighteen-hour flight. He doesn’t even try to rebut Junmyeon’s statement because he does feel like shit. Physically and mentally.

“Thanks for the coffee,” Kyungsoo says when they get inside Junmyeon’s car.

“I knew you’d be needing it,” Junmyeon shrugs. “I know how much you hate flying. But you’ll probably get sick of coffee by the weekend. That’s all we have at the funeral.”

Kyungsoo’s stomach roils at that last word. A painful reminder of what he’s really here for.

Suddenly the coffee tastes unbearably bitter on his tongue. He puts it back in the cup holder and looks out the window as the city passes by in flashes of relatively low-rise buildings, quaint cafés, and people rushing to where they needed to be.

Los Angeles hasn’t changed much, that’s for sure. But the people living in it have, and there’s one less of them.

“How did it happen?”

Junmyeon heaves a deep breath as he merges onto the 134. “The coroner said his breathing continuously slowed down until it just stopped. Bad way to go, I guess.”

Kyungsoo can’t imagine how terrible that must’ve felt like — feeling like drowning when you’re nowhere near water, with no one to hear you screaming for help because you don’t have enough air in your lungs to blow the words out.

“Heroin?”

Junmyeon shakes his head. “Vicodin. And vodka, I think.” When Kyungsoo doesn’t say anything, he continues, “Jongdae found him. He called me in the middle of the night and told me he had a hunch that something was wrong. When he got there, the poor kid was on his couch and not breathing. Paramedics couldn’t do anything.”

Threats of tears sting Kyungsoo’s eyes, but he holds it together. “I thought… He was clean, wasn’t he? He told me that in his last letter.”

“He sent that four years ago, Soo,” Junmyeon replies quietly, his voice almost a whisper. “But yeah, we thought so too. I don’t blame him, though. He’s human. We’re all human. It’s not easy to stay on the right track all of the time.”

They turn right onto Sunset Strip after a few miles; a cold wave of nostalgia washes over Kyungsoo. He still remembers the nights they hopped from one nightclub to another like it was yesterday, how they walked through this very boulevard while the world was spinning in their minds, how Junmyeon would pick them up when they’re too wasted to even stand.

It reminds him of his youth — of his hopefulness, but also of his carelessness. Los Angeles is the kind of place that chews you up and spits you out, and he’s afraid that coming back here means that he’ll be eaten up again.

Every corner of this city reeks of memories, some more than others. But Kyungsoo can trace all of these memories back to the club on the corner of Sunset and Larrabee, its all-black exterior sticking out like a sore thumb in the multicolored boulevard.

“I heard Viper was sold,” Kyungsoo remarks as they drive by the nightclub.

“Yeah,” Junmyeon confirms. “There’s this rumor that’s been going around for about two years now. They say it’s gonna be demolished to make way for a hotel.”

Kyungsoo doesn’t take his eyes off the club until after they’ve completely passed by it. “Like House of Blues. They closed that one down just a little after I left, right?”

“They did. They demolished it two years after that. People were pissed, naturally. But they got over it since they didn’t have a choice. I’m sure that’ll happen too when Viper closes for good,” Junmyeon says.

It sucks, Kyungsoo thinks, when something that’s been there for the whole time just disappears — like House of Blues, like Viper. It disrupts the comfort of knowing it exists, that it’s there at arm’s length, like deleting a photo from a very special day. There’s nothing else to remember it by, no evidence that it really did happen.

Kyungsoo probably hates cliches the most next to long-haul flights, but that cheesy sentiment of realizing that you took something for granted only when it’s no longer there has never hit closer to home than it did before. People take things for granted because they always thought it wasn’t going anywhere.

“That’s where you first met him, right?” Junmyeon asks. “During one of my birthday parties?”

A warm feeling springs from Kyungsoo’s chest, and he welcomes it with a faint smile. “Yes,” he answers, and the years melt away as he remembers that night. 

May 2014

“Scotch on the rocks,” Kyungsoo says to the bartender.

The bartender smiles and nods, whipping out a glass with some ice and then filling it halfway with Chivas 12. “First time here?” he asks.

Kyungsoo shakes his head. He picks up the glass and takes a generous swig from it. “I’ve been here before. I just don’t come often.”

The Viper Room’s secret whiskey bar isn’t exactly a secret anymore, at least for locals. The staircase leading to it is just past the cashier, but it’s easy to miss if you don’t know that it exists. It’s where locals come to take it slow if they aren’t in the mood to party upstairs.

“Ah, figures,” the bartender shrugs. “Haven’t seen you before in Junmyeon’s parties. How do you know him?”

Kyungsoo downs the rest of his drink, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. “He’s my agent. I signed with him just a few weeks ago.” He slides his glass back to the bartender, asking him to pour another one. “How do you know Junmyeon?”

“He always rents the bar on his birthday,” the bartender explains. This time he pours from a different bottle. Kyungsoo catches the familiar logo, but isn’t quite sure which kind it is.

“That looks expensive,” he says. “Should you be giving that to me so generously?”

The bartender chuckles. “It’s a congratulatory drink, for signing with one of the best agents in Hollywood. On the house, of course.”

Kyungsoo shrugs. He takes back the drink wordlessly because it’s difficult to argue with free premium booze. He takes a small sip of the golden liquid, letting out a low whistle as soon as he’s tasted it. “Damn. What is this?”

“Thirty year-old Walker. Master Blender, 1880,” the bartender says, a smirk playing on his lips. He pours one for himself and then brings his glass up to Kyungsoo’s. “A toast. For your career. LA’s a shark tank, but I’m sure Junmyeon will take care of you.”

They both laugh, finishing their drinks in one clean swig.

“Should you be drinking on duty, Minseok?” a voice asks from behind Kyungsoo.

The stranger takes the seat on the bar next to Kyungsoo, and Kyungsoo can’t help but shy away from the sudden encroachment. He looks familiar, Kyungsoo thinks.

The bartender, whose name is Minseok, apparently, lets out an easy laugh. “I tend the bar, Minho. It takes more than half a glass of scotch to get me drunk.”

A lightbulb goes off in Kyungsoo’s mind. Choi Minho. That’s why he looked familiar.

Someone calls Minseok from the far end of the bar, leaving Kyungsoo with the newcomer. But Kyungsoo doesn’t pay him any attention. He takes a newfound interest in his drink, swirling the liquid in the glass until the ice cubes melt.

“Man, Minseok flirts with everyone who asks for a drink from him,” Minho says, breaking the silence.

Kyungsoo takes another sip without sparing him a glance. “He wasn’t flirting. He was making conversation,” he replies indifferently.

“O-oh. Yeah. I was just kidding,” Minho stammers as he lets out a nervous laugh. “I’m Choi Minho, by the way.”

Minho extends his hand out for Kyungsoo to shake, but Kyungsoo just stares at him blankly. “I know who you are. I’m not interested.”

“What?” Minho laughs, but again, it comes out shaky, like he’s embarrassed. “Jeez, I was just introducing myself. No need—”

A chuckle coming from Kyungsoo’s left interrupts whatever pathetic excuse Minho was about to come up with.

Kyungsoo turns his head to the source of laughter, his eyes falling on the man sitting a few stools away from him. Mild amusement dances on the man’s face with his lips curled into a mischievous smile. He’s beautiful, Kyungsoo thinks, but that isn’t the most striking thing about him — it’s his hair, dyed silver-gray, which looks luminescent even in the dim lighting of the bar.

“The kid said he’s not interested, Minho,” the man says. “Better leave him alone before a sexual harassment lawsuit that you can’t bribe yourself out of flies your way.”

Minho leaves without another word, his hands balling into fists on his side.

Kyungsoo looks at the silver-haired man once again. A satisfied smirk is playing on the man’s lips, obviously pleased with himself for saving someone from the likes of Choi Minho.

“Thanks,” Kyungsoo says. His face feels unusually warm, and he isn’t sure whether it’s because of the scotch or because of the man sitting just a few feet away from him.

“Don’t mention it,” he replies, taking a swig out of his beer. “Smart of you to turn him away without giving him your name.”

“It’s a small industry. You hear things one way or another.”

The silver-haired man laughs, putting his perfect teeth on display. Kyungsoo swears his heart skipped a beat, and he hates how he felt it; he should be used to beautiful people by now. He is in Tinseltown, after all.

And yet here he is blushing, all because some actor has thrown him a dazzling smile.

“You’re Junmyeon’s new kid, right?” the man asks.

“If by kid you mean a client and not like a boy toy or something, then yes,” Kyungsoo says. He stands up from his seat and moves closer to his new acquaintance, offering his hand. “Doh Kyungsoo.”

The man chuckles and accepts the handshake. “Ah, so you’re the kid from that play in Bootleg Theater Junmyeon’s been raving about. He must’ve been over the moon when you finally signed onto him.”

“Well, it wasn’t a hard choice to begin with. He has a good track record.” Kyungsoo scratches the back of his neck. He’s never been used to being at the receiving end of compliments, especially when they’re about his acting.

“So, what do you think about the script?”

Kyungsoo freezes, his drink stopping in midair. “What script?”

“Ah, he hasn’t told you yet…” the man smiles knowingly. “I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise, but let’s just say we’re about to see more of each other.” He stands up from his seat, straightening out the blazer over his white shirt. “Byun Baekhyun,” the silver-haired man finally introduces himself.

But Kyungsoo already knows who he is.

Read the rest of the chapters here.

Listen to this fic’s playlist here.

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

A Silent Refuge

Summary: While having a 'spider-sense' can come in handy, it can also be a hindrance. Especially when the constant hum keeps you awake at night. Peter learns that there is one place he can go that feels safe enough to silence his heightened awareness and it's where Tony is.

Warnings: none

Tags: Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark and May Parker Co-Parenting Peter Parker, Tired Peter Parker, Fluff ... ...

Word Count: 3653

Link to Post on AO3: A Silent Refuge- happyaspie

    Tony woke up entirely too early in the morning to his phone instantly vibrating on the table beside his bed.  When it finally went quiet he sighed and tried to go back to sleep only to have it start up again immediately after.  With a groan, he haphazardly felt around on the table until he had the offending device in his hand and then fumbled to answer it without ever looking to see who was calling.  There was only a short list of people who could reach him through the one line that didn't go through FRIDAY and if they felt the need to call him twice in rapid succession, then he figured it must be at least somewhat important.  "What's up?"

  "Is Peter with you?", the voice on the other line asked and it took Tony longer than it should have to figure out who was talking to him.  In fact, he had to pull the phone away from his ear and glance down at the name before it clicked and his sleep-rattled brain slowly started to work things out.  It was May and she was asking him about the kid.  Pete.  Peter.  She thought Peter was with him?

  "No.  Why would be he be with me?", he asked with confusion.  It was way too early on a... whatever day it was for the kid to be with him.

  "I don't know!", May clipped and Tony was suddenly awake enough to register how distressed she sounded.  "I went into his room this morning to make sure he was getting up for school and he wasn't there.  There's no note, he's not answering his phone and he's not with Ned, so I was hoping that you had him.", she asked, her voice sounding more and more perturbed the longer she spoke.

  "May... I would never come to collect your kid in the middle of the night without saying something.  I'm not that irresponsible.", Tony said as he sat up and tried to wipe the sleep from his eyes.  Then he remembered that at one time he's lied to the woman and hauled her nephew out of the country without her knowledge and gave in a little.   "Okay, maybe I am but I didn't.  He's not with me.  Let me pull up the suit stats.  Maybe he got up before you and went out for an early morning swing.", he said with an exhausted sigh but May didn't seem to think that was the case being as she was once again huffing in his ear.

  "You don't understand.  He's not answering his phone, Tony.  Oh, god what if he's hurt?", she said with growing anxiety that was starting to send ripples of worry through Tony as well.  Especially when the console he used to monitor the Spider-suit came up blank.

  "The suits not active.", he stated not quite masking his own concern.  "Jesus.  Okay.", he started as he ran his hands down his face and let out a deep breath.  "Okay, I'm going to have FRIDAY track his last location and check the surveillance.  I'll let you know when I find something.  You just hang tight in case he returns home."  

  "Please, just find my kid.", May returned without missing a beat.

  "I'll find him.", Tony assured ahead of abruptly ending the call.  A thousand thoughts were running through his mind as he stepped into a pair of sweat pants.  It was times like these that he was thankful for his AI assistant.  He didn't have to waste any time.  She could get started while he finished throwing a shirt over his head and made his way to the lab.  "FRIDAY?  Pull up the Spider-suit's tracker and pinpoint its last coordinates for me, will you dear?"

  Not even two seconds passed before the AI was dutifully responding with the information that he'd requested  "The last known location was recorded at one-thirty-two in the morning.  I'm sending you the coordinates to you now."

  Tony felt his watch twitch and looked down at the location expecting to see it somewhere in Queens.  Maybe even in the kid's closet but that wasn't the case and he brought his brows together with perplexity.  "That's a block from the Tower.  What on Earth was he doing there?", he rhetorically questioned but the AI responded anyway.

  "I believe he was using the suit as a means of transportation.", FRIDAY replied and Tony rolled his eyes.

  "He usually does.", Tony said with mild frustration as he too tried to dial Peter's number only to be sent straight to voicemail.  The kid never had his phone turned off and that sent his lingering worry over the edge causing unfavorable thoughts to flow endlessly through his head.  "I swear, if it wasn't frowned upon by every single government agency on the planet, I would put a tracker in back of the kid's neck.", he said through his teeth.

  "That would be a human rights violation at best, Boss.", the AI chimed in, only adding to Tony's annoyance.

  "Thanks, dear but I'd already figured that out for myself.", he acknowledged while simultaneously opening up all of the screens in front of him.  "Pull up the surveillance footage and let's see if we can figure out what our resident spiderling was up to.  Hopefully not getting kidnapped because it is way too early in the morning to deal with anything like that.", he said in an attempt to keep things light but in reality that was his number one fear at the moment.  That the kid had snuck off and then gotten captured.   There were people out there that would love to get their hands on Spider-man.  Then just as he was starting to spiral, FRIDAY spoke up and eased the panic.

  "Mr. Parker was not kidnapped.", the AI informed causing Tony's nack to snap up from where he's been staring at the floor.  FRIDAY wasn't programmed to lie under any circumstances and that meant that she'd already been able to deduce something he just didn't know what and even though no more than half a second had passed he was already beyond aggravated at the lack of instant explanation.

  "Is there something you're not telling me because I'm starting to get a little anxious here.", he snapped.  "If you know something that I don't, now would be an excellent time for you to fill me in."

  "Mr. Parker entered the building at one-forty-two via the furthermost window of your private lab and has been asleep on the couch in the corner ever since.  Would you like me to wake him?"

  Tony's brain completely stalled at the information.  He felt swindled.  Outraged.  The kid was currently occupying the very room he was sitting in.  Granted it was a large room and the couch was in the furthest corner but the fact that he'd not been informed was maddening.  "I'm sorry, Did you just tell me that the kid has been back there for the last...", He glanced down at his watch, "...six and a half hours and you just now decided to tell me?"

  "Mr. Parker has full access to your private lab and requested that I not--", FRIDAY began to designate but Tony wasn't interested in the AI's miscalculated reasoning.  Just because the kid had access to the lab didn't mean he wanted him to come and go without notice.  JARVIS would have inferred that on his own.  He was intuitive, could practically read his mind and-- he didn't have time to think about that as another notion invaded his thought process.

  "--Wait, he's not hurt is he?", he asked, his heart beginning to palpitate in his chest as he awaited the answer.

  "No injuries or illnesses were detected upon his arrival.  Other than some minor sleep deprivation, Mr. Parker seems to be in excellent health.", FRIDAY said and Tony ran his hands through his hair and took several deep breaths.  Once his heart had gone back to a more normal rhythm he stood up and began to weave through the various machines as he made his way towards the far end of the sprawling workshop where, sure enough, Peter was laying there completely knocked out.

  For several seconds, Tony watched the boy's chest rise and fall in a soothing manner.  He had one arm tucked under his head as a pillow and the other dangling over the side, his fingers brushing the floor while both knees were pulled up towards his chest.  It didn't look overly comfortable but the kid's slack features seemed to say otherwise.  He almost hated to wake him.  Then he felt his phone buzz in his pocket.  It was May.  A quick text to inform her that her nephew was alive, well and in his care, he leaned over to shake Peter awake.  "Time to rise and shine, Spiderling.", he said just loud enough to cause the teenager to stir.

  "Mr. Stark?", Peter slurred as he opened his eyes. 

  "In the flesh.", Tony returned with a fond smile.  Even with a little bit of drool on the corner of his mouth, the kid looked sort of cute, laying there with his hair sticking up as it was.  "What are you doing here, kiddo?  Not that I don't enjoy your company but it's a school day and your aunt was kind of freaking out.", he said making the teenager shoot up into a sitting position so fast that it made his own head swim.

  "Shoot!  I overslept.  I need to call her!", Peter said as he hurriedly pulled his phone out of his pocket only to realize that it was dead.  "Shoot! She's going to kill me."

  Smiling at the early morning dramatics, Tony sat himself down beside the stressed-out looking teenager and patted him on the knee.  "I've already let her know that your safe and with me.", he and then paused as the softness he'd been feeling started to fade into minor irritation.  Mostly because his pocket was still buzzing with was no doubt, numerous questions form May.  Questions he couldn't yet answer.  "You know, after adamantly insisting that you weren't with me when she called this morning.  So, how about we backtrack to my first question.  What are you doing here?"

  "Sleeping?", Peter apprehensively responded.  

  "Okay...", Tony said with a quirk of his eyebrow.  "Is there something wrong with your own bed?"

  "No, but...", Peter began to but then found himself unable to locate the words necessary to explain any further.  Partially because he wasn't sure he wanted to.  Being caught had not been a part of his plan but Tony was looking at him with rapt anticipation and he knew he had to say something. "It's kind of hard to explain?"

  "Well, I'm going to need you to give it the good ole college try because you showing up in my lab unannounced before dawn is worrisome.", Tony countered with seriousness and gave a curt nod of his head.  "Which reminds me.  FRIDAY?  New rule.  Anytime the kid enters or exits the building I want a heads up.  Every time.  No matter what. We'll call it the Baby Gate Protocol.", he added with a smirk, fully aware of how much the kid would hate the diminutive name. 

  With a deep sigh, Peter looked down at the floor where he'd kicked his shoes off upon his arrival. He was already resigning himself to the fact that he would never be able to stealthily enter the building by any means ever again  FRIDAY would no longer comply with his request to remain unattended.  "That's not really necessary, Mr. Stark.", he tried.

  "Apparently it is considering I spent the last fifteen minutes tracking your location only to find out that, surprise!...  you were literally across the room from me the whole time.", Tony said in exasperation.  "Inept and uninformed is not a good look on me.  So, forgive me for preventing it from happening again... and for the third time.", he pressed, "Why are you here?"

  "I can't sleep at home.", Peter answered in defeat.  "I mean I can but it's, it's hard and I was so tired and my spider-sense wouldn't shut up so, so I came here.", he quietly explained.

  Tony looked at the kid beside him with a wrinkle of concern etched across his brow.  "Doesn't your spider-ESP usually warn you that you're in danger", he asked because it made no sense that the kid would never leave May at risk.  He would protect her with his life.

  "Yes but no.", Peter said with a shrug of his shoulders and another sigh.  He legitimately didn't know how to expound on the subject.  Even he wasn't one-hundred percent clear on how his spider-sense worked sometimes. "It does the thing where it makes my hairs stand on end when there's an immediate threat but it's also just always there in the back of my skull.  Except it's more of a constant, quiet hum.  Just enough to keep me alert.  During the day it's fine.  I only really notice it at night anymore but sometimes there are nights where its more annoying than others and I just... can't sleep."

  Tony made sure to maintain eye contact to show that he was listening.  He had no experience with spider-induced anxiety but he certainly knew a thing or two about insomnia.  "So... you thought you would come by and mess around in the lab by yourself?", he asked dubiously by virtue of the fact that he was still unclear as to how the sleep-deprived teenager ended up on his couch.

  "No, Mr. Stark.  Just sleep.", Peter said as he chewed on his bottom. "Like do you remember last week when you had to wake me up after I fell asleep with my head on your desk?", he asked and waited for him mentor to say that he did.  "Well, I realized that day that my spider-sense is quiet when I'm here.  Like super, quiet and I think it's because it just feels really, really safe when I'm here.", he adamantly replied before wavering slightly as he weighed his next words. "I think, I think it has to do with you.  ...because when you're around, I can sleep without having to force myself to ignore that buzz.  It's like my DNA knows that you have the ability to take care of me while I rest.", he said and almost felt bad about it.  He knew May would always try to protect him too but the fact of the matter was that she was vulnerable and Tony... he was Iron Man.

  Smiling fondly, Tony wrapped his arm around the boy's shoulders.  He wholly understood the levity that came with that admission.  "I'm glad you feel safe with me, Buddy.", he gently replied and after that, things grew quiet with thought.  He'd met the kid months ago and at that time the teenager had said that he'd acquired his abilities six months prior.  He wondered if something had changed or if the kid had honestly gone that long without a good night's sleep.  "You've had your powers for a while now.  How have you been dealing with that all this time?"

  "Well, that's why I would patrol so late at night.  If I exerted enough energy to become exhausted, it made it easier to sleep and I guess I just sort of got used to not getting a full night's sleep.  Then when Aunt May found out about everything and gave me a curfew it made things more difficult.  Sometimes, I'm so tired I can't think straight but all I can do is stare at the ceiling.  I knew if I came here I could sleep and I thought I set an alarm on my phone so that I could get home before your or May found out but I guess my battery died.  I didn't mean to make everyone worry.  I'm so sorry, Mr. Stark.", Peter shot back all in one continuous ramble, taking a sharp intake of air at the end.

  "Calm down, kiddo.  We know you're safe now and that's what matters the most.  We're going to have to come up with a better plan for you to get some sleep though.  I can't have you sneaking in through my windows at all hours and you should be sleeping in an actual bed and not on an old worn-out couch.", Tony said as he pulled the kid into his side could feel him instantly relax against him and sighed contentedly.  He had Pepper, Rhodey and Happy but even still, it had been an exceptionally long time since anyone had told him that they trusted him so extensively and it felt good to have someone else by his side.  "We'll talk to your Aunt.  Maybe you can stay here overnight sometimes.  At least on the weekends.", he said before thoughtfully adding, "Of course, by here, I mean in the bedroom I'm going to set up for you in the penthouse."

  "You don't have to do that, Mr. Stark.  I mean I would really appreciate being allowed to sleep there sometimes but I don't need you to give me a room or anything.  The couch is fine, I promise.", Peter replied but he couldn't entirely stop himself from smiling at the man's offer.  Being invited to spend some nights there was amazing enough without the added grandeur of knowing he would have a space set aside just for him.

  "No, It's not fine.  You need a room with a bed and I'm going to do that for you.  Now, from what I can figure, you're already late for school so, you may as well come upstairs with me while I call your aunt.  I'll make you some breakfast and then you can take a nap.", Tony said as he tried to formulate a plan for exactly how he was going to relay all of this newly acquired information to May.  Although, his thoughts were interrupted sooner than they had the chance to flow.

  "--I can't just skip school, Mr. Stark!", Peter squawked despite the fact that he had to have already missed at least one period.  

  Tony chuckled and gave the boy's shoulders a firm squeeze.  "Pete, you just sat there and told me that you haven't had a good night's sleep in months so I'm afraid that I'm going to have to insist.  I'm sure May will agree once I explain everything to her.  I'll even write you an excuse.  How about that?", he asked with a smile, though his tone didn't no margin for argument.

  Suddenly realizing how tired he still was, Peter nodded his head and yawned so wide that his eyes watered. 

  Giving an approving nod, Tony led them both upstairs where he took to the stove to make an omelet while Peter made use of the bathroom.  Then, once he had the kid settled at the kitchen table he disappeared to talk to May in the privacy of his office. It took very little persuasion to get her to agree to allow her nephew to spend a few nights a week at the tower.  Especially if it meant that he wouldn't allow himself to get so exhausted that he felt the need to sneak off in the middle of the night again and Tony couldn't have been happier with the new arrangement.  He'd not realized exactly how close he'd actually gotten to the kid until he was being faced with a near panic attack at the prospect of him having gone missing.  Consequently, he was still smiling to himself as he reentered the kitchen.

  "Everything's all set.  Your curfew had officially been extended by half an hour and May agreed that you need a day off.  She also agreed that from now on you can spend your weekends with me.", Tony said with an unwavering grin. "If you want to of course."

  "I would love that, sir.  If you're sure it's okay, I mean.", Peter said with a smile of his own, soon after hopping up to place his dishes neatly into the sink.

  "It's fine.  Better than fine, it's great.  Means I'll have you around to do all the heavy lifting in the lab those days.  My back can only take so much and the Iron Man armor isn't as comfortable as you would think.  This is an absolute win for me.", Tony flippantly replied and then gestured for the boy to follow him up the stairs. "This is my room", he said as he lay his hand on the closed door at the front of the wide hall before turning to open the door that was adjacent to it.  "...and this is going to be your room", he pointed out while watching the kid's eyes light up at the sight.  "We'll have to get you some stuff to keep here and redecorate so that it suits you but there's a bathroom, a walk-in closet and the bed should be comfortable enough."

  "This is amazing.  Thank you, Mr. Stark.", Peter replied all starry-eyed and grateful.

  "You're welcome, kid.", Tony said, chuckling at the way the teenager dramatically fall backward onto the mattress.  "Now you go ahead and get some rest.  I'll have FRIDAY will tell me when you're up and then I can drive you home.", said with some remorse.  He would have loved to have had to kid stay there for the whole day but his aunt had insisted that he needed to get home.  Though he was already looking forward to the weekend.  

  "Thank you for letting me stay, Mr. Stark.", Peter said as he peeled back the duvet and climbed under the sheet. 

  "You're more than welcome.", Tony returned as he gave in to the urge to run his fingers through the boy's hair, smiling when the kid leaned into his touch.  "Good-night, Buddy.", he whispered and then quietly slipped out of the bedroom.

[harryandmolly]

Complicit // Introduction

summary: Shawn is under more pressure than he’s ever known. He craves release and comfort, the simplicity of sex. He gets more than he bargained for.

warnings: language, allusion to sexual content, perhaps the Most Extra OC I’ve written to date

WC: 2.2k

----------

Penny closes one eye and scrunches up her face, digging through her S/S 2018 monogrammed Louis Vuitton tote for her work phone. It buzzes hard, rattling against her Oliver Peoples sunglasses, until she can fling some chestnut hair from her face and answer it.

“Caught me just before we’re leaving for the airport,” she says breezily, squinting out the bay window of the whitewashed St. Lucia suite looking over the lapis ocean, “What’s up?”

“I have such a treat for you,” chuckles Silver.

A familiar thrill shoots down Penny’s spine. She swallows and casts a glance around the room for her vacation companion. He’s nowhere to be seen.

“Who is it?”

Silver, being Silver, pauses for dramatic effect.

“It’s Shawn Mendes.”

A pause. Penny’s well kept brow furrows.

“Who?”

+

Niall first realized something was really wrong when Shawn didn’t want to go to 40 Love. In fact, he didn’t want to go anywhere. Niall had to go to him, to his house in Beachwood Canyon, just to see his old friend.

He eyes him warily, watching Shawn stare out the window overlooking the Hills. He’s got a guitar pick in the pocket of his sweats. His fingers fumble with it while he thinks.

“So… things are bad,” Niall guesses.

Shawn takes too long to shrug and angle his head back at Niall. “Not… bad. Just weird.”

Niall leans forward, propping his elbows up on his knees and holding his beer bottle aloft, examining the shedding label.

“I get it. It’s a weird situation. Honestly, I… I was pretty surprised.”

Shawn bobs his head and feels his jaw tighten against his will. “I think a lot of people are.”

Niall is quiet for almost a full minute. He shakes a hand through his coarse brown hair. “I get it, though. I mean, you know I do, mate. Going from teenager to adult in this business is somethin’ most people don’t even get to do. But doin’ it… it’s hard. So I get it, why this thing makes sense for ya.”

Shawn is silent, fidgeting in front of the window.

Niall lifts a shoulder, looking to lighten the mood. “Least she’s not a nightmare.”

It gets a short, rough chuckle from Shawn, which Niall considers progress. Shawn finally turns looking worse for wear as he shuffles to sit in the armchair across from the couch, shoulders hunched, legs spread.

“I don’t think I would’ve agreed to a publicity stunt relationship with someone I hate,” He pauses and chews on the inside of his lip, “I dunno, maybe I would’ve at this point.”

Niall lowers his gaze. He recognizes the old, faded remnants of Catholic guilt in his gut and does what he can to tamp them down. His progression from teen heartthrob of One Direction fame to singer-songwriter hasn’t been easy in comparison to Shawn’s. Hell, he’ll always be one of the 1D boys -- there’s really no changing that. He’s made his peace with it.

His young friend, 21 now and in the industry since he was 15, has to do the same. Niall’s been paying attention. Shawn Mendes has been stratospheric for a while. His third album was a massive success. He sold out arenas on a world tour that even One Direction’s *cough* ambitious management wouldn’t sniff at. But the Armani smart watch ads and even the Calvin Klein campaign haven’t saved him from being a “prince of pop.”

It’s not the worst thing you can be called, Shawn and Niall both know. But it’s diminutive, it’s a little condescending, it’s sweet. Shawn has always been sweet. He is the ultimate nice Canadian boy, the antidote to Bieber’s downfall.

But he’s growing the fuck up and the rest of it -- the music, the tours, the image -- it has to grow, too.

It was Shawn and Bex’s shared publicist who first mentioned the idea. Bex, single name, like Madonna, is an old friend. She’s a Nickelodeon star-turned-pop singer who came up around the same time Shawn was sitting in a computer chair posting to Vine and YouTube. He likes Bex, she’s cool. They’ve written together and yeah, they’ve fucked a couple times when they were drunk and needed distractions from their own lives for various reasons. But he doesn’t get that feeling about Bex. He knows the feeling is out there. But that’s not what this thing with her is for.

“It’s a proven effective way to age you up in the public’s eyes,” Emily advised him, doing that thing where she dips her chin a little toward her chest and widens her eyes, the ‘you really should listen to me’ face, “And aging you up is the only way to get you where you really want to go. The teenage girls can get you places. Fuck, they can even make you a legend. But they can’t get you the world’s respect.”

Shawn thought it was insane at first. Lie about a relationship? Isn’t that kind of seedy? Won’t people see right through it?

He shifts uncomfortably in the chair. He still wonders these things sometimes. But the righteous indignation he felt last year when it came up is an ancient memory. He picks moodily at his own beer bottle sitting on the arm of the chair.

“You see someone, right? Like a therapist?” Niall verifies. Shawn nods absently.

Niall goes silent again for longer than usual. Shawn looks up to see his friend pensive.

“What?”

Niall shrugs and lifts his eyes to Shawn’s carefully. “Not the only thing you could be doing to manage this. The stress, ya know? And anxiety.”

Shawn bristles the way he does whenever someone suggests he’s not doing enough of something. Before he can open his mouth, Niall steps on his own words.

“I mean, ya know, there’s someone else ya can be seein’.”

Shawn’s face is blank. Niall’s going to have to explain the idea as painfully and awkwardly as it was explained to him by a friend a couple years ago.

“I’ve been seein’ a girl on and off for three years. Not always the same one, I mean. For stress relief.”

Shawn, as sweet and doe-eyed as he doesn’t want to be, isn’t picking up what Niall’s putting down.

“What, like a chiropractor?” Shawn guesses, his brow creasing.

Niall slugs back the last slurp of his beer. “No, like a domme.”

+

Penny waits until she’s back in her three bedroom Studio City home, quiet and removed in the hills just like she likes, to call Silver back.

Gus, her favorite agency driver, picked her up from the Santa Monica airport after she kissed one of her favorite clients, Victor Calhoun, goodbye and hauled in all her luggage from a week in St. Lucia. For barely needing to be dressed at all for a week, she brought a ton of shit with her. She makes a mental note to rethink that for next time, but she also thinks Victor likes that she’s high maintenance. Or seemingly high maintenance, she thinks with a smile as she pads barefoot around her cottage in panties and an old t-shirt, bag of popcorn in hand.

She drops onto her couch while the phone rings on speaker in her lap. She stretches out her slender legs, admiring her robust tan.

“Hey, bitch.”

“Hi, sweetheart,” Penny laughs, dropping some popped kernels into her mouth, “Been holding down the fort ok?”

“Yes, believe it or not, I survived a week without you. How was St. Lucia? Was Victor a very good boy?”

Penny smirks. “Always. So good, in fact, I’ve been taking low doses of muscle relaxants for three days to keep myself from getting lockjaw.”

Silver snorts. “That man loves a blow job.”

Penny sifts through some burnt kernels, locating an extra buttery looking piece toward the bottom of the bag and eyeing it like treasure.

“So,” she begins, crunching indelicately into the phone, “Tell me about Shawn Mendes. Who referred him?”

“Niall Horan.”

“Oh, he’s been seeing Karina, right?”

“Yep, she keeps him very much in line. He’s quiet about La Splendeur -- he’s not the guy telling all his friends about how much he’s paying to get dommed by a call girl. He’s selective with his referrals.”

Penny lifts an eyebrow and shrugs. “Those are usually our favorite kind of clients, I guess.”

Silver snorts. “Less messy, certainly. Anyway, Karina adores him, so that bodes well.”

“Who, Shawn?”

“No, actually, as far as I can tell, he’s new. None of my contacts have a history of him seeing anyone.”

Now Penny is really intrigued. It’s not that often she gets a client that has never seen a call girl before. Being a courtesan, the elitest of the elite escorts, clients generally work their way up the food chain to her.

But he’s new. Fresh, untouched, curious. Silver’s right. This is a special treat.

“Well, I downloaded his music, so I’ll have a listen. I recognize a few of the tracks. Anything else I should know?”

“Well, babe, no client history means you start from scratch, research-wise. I’d say be prepared for anything. He seems like your usual sweet, pretty boy, which as you know, can mean anything goes.”

Penny bobs her head thoughtfully, already mentally scanning wardrobe options and toys.

“When?”

“Thursday at 8, Chateau. Give you some time to recover from your potential lockjaw.”

Penny’s laugh is loud and sizzling, one she rarely uses in front of clients, but she and Silver have known each other a long time.

“Good. Plus, I like a few days of anticipation for new guys. Gets ‘em all worked up before I even get in the door.”

“And that is why you’re worth every Penny.”

Penny rolls her eyes and hangs up on the millionth time Silver has made that same adorably stupid joke.

+

Penny’s always liked the Chateau Marmont. It was the site of her first appointment. She remembers being nauseous with nerves walking through the doors that night, sure she’d be arrested just for stepping foot inside. She felt like she had the word “NEFARIOUS” stamped across her pretty forehead.

But she held her head high and focused on the rhythm of her Jimmy Choos, purchased especially for the occasion, on the fine marble floor. As instructed, she didn’t even spare a glance for the front desk. She strode in, not too fast, not too slow, and headed straight for the elevators. The concierge would recognize her from a picture passed along by her madam, Silver, and let her by without a problem. That’s one of Silver’s treasured trade secrets -- most working girls choose lower key locations for dates. Hiding in plain sight, especially at tourist attractions, heavily reduces suspicion, hence why Silver struck up a deal with the Chateau’s concierge years ago. Her girls get a pass, he gets a cut.

The booking is made under the name of the driver who arrives early to check in and drop off Penny’s suitcase while she window shops nearby or grabs a glass of wine at the bar. When the client arrives and is OK’d by the driver for security reasons, Penny gets a text and makes her entrance. Before the driver excuses himself to the car, he checks in with Silver to make sure the client’s wire transfer is complete. Once those initial checkpoints are crossed, the night is Penny’s.

Tonight is no different, really, Penny tells herself as she steps out of the Bentley, offered a hand by the Chateau’s valet. She sneaks him a sultry smile just because getting men squirming for her before she even meets her client feels like a good way to hype up.

But it feels different, somehow. The Hollywood evening’s breeze is especially pleasant, the hotel is especially quiet, and the night especially charged as she heads inside hugged in tastefully cut black satin and wearing her favorite black Roger Viviers. She ignores the way the hair on the back of her smooth olive neck stands on end when the elevator dings upon arrival to the specified floor.

Gus, standing outside the door in a dark suit with his arms crossed, gives her a nod, indicating all is set and well. She rises on her toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. She knows by now she can’t make Gus squirm, so she doesn’t try. He stands aside and opens the door.

He’s sitting on the couch, facing the windows on the opposite wall. His posture is hunched and she can see his shoulders are broad. She tries not to lick her lips.

He turns slightly, looking over his shoulder. His profile catches the orange lamplight. It’s even more magnificent in person. Penny feels a jolt from her squished toes up her very straight spine. She smiles.

He stands, one hand limp by his side, the other clutching a sweating glass of bourbon. Penny can’t wait to taste it on his pretty lips.

Facing her, his jaw tightens, muscles flexing, and his eyes darken just a shade, or maybe she imagines it because she bets hers do the same.

“Penny?”

His voice is a croak. He notices -- he goes magenta moments later. The familiar animal that lives in her stirs, stretching, limbering up.

“Hi, Shawn.”

-------

Ooooh it’s that time again! Ya girl has a new solo series to sink her teeth into. If you’re happy and you know it, buy me a Ko-fi (link on main page)!

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