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ironmandeficiency · 4 years ago

Text

beach please

pairing: rex / reader / cody

word count: 6166

summary: once the war ended, you retreated to scarif for much-needed time to recenter yourself. rex and cody worry when you don’t answer your comms for days and leave coruscant to find you, fearing the worst. turns out you’ve just been drinking and partying, now sporting two new tattoos.

a/n: the self-created duke of scarif is jimmy buffett & i was inspired by his song “margaritaville” & “beach please” by kevin fowler.

canon changes: everyone listened to fives abt the chips & palps was discovered to be a sith lord. the clones were given human rights, a generously low locked-in rent if they lived on coruscant, and as much back pay as the republic could afford (not much but better than nothing).

“master y/l/n, there’s still so much to be done-”

“and you can have someone else do it. you must not be capable of recognizing the importance of reevaluating the way we interpret the code, or else this conversation wouldn’t be occurring.”

obi-wan blanched at the barely tamed fury radiating from your force signature. this was the second time in less than a year that he felt something so raging from your force signature, the time before this meeting being the aftermath of umbara. before the nightmare that was the siege on the shadow planet, it had been decades since you were angry enough about something to raise your voice to the council. it took a very great transgression to ignite your anger into something scathing and this meeting was doing exactly that.

the council was meeting to discuss the senate’s plans to have the jedi spearhead efforts to repair the galaxy and quell the revolts in areas that still wanted to continue the war. palpatine was manipulating both sides and if it weren’t for fives and kix, the republic would have been none the wiser when chancellor palpatine executed the order to have the clones murder their jedi.

“how are we going to guide the galaxy through the changing times if we’re unable to reevaluate our own beliefs and how the war impacted them? so many of our padawans were raised in this war, far different than how they should have been brought up.” your mind drifted to ahsoka and late-night conversations spent trying to make sense of the reality of war and how she’d been nothing but a soldier since she left the temple at fourteen. “the senate is not our responsibility nor our lead authority. we were their pawns once and despite seeing the consequences on geonosis, we let ourselves get wrapped in politics. think of what we lost because of it.”

eeth koth was deeply disturbed by your entire demeanor as well as the words spilling from your lips. if there was ever a jedi that made you want to leave the order, he’d be it. douchebag. “our duty is to the galaxy, to maintain peace! you can’t expect us to sit back and do nothing when people are struggling!”

obi-wan shared your sentiment but strived for more unity than polarization within the meeting. “but aren’t we struggling just as much as the rest of the galaxy? time must be allotted for us to heal the wounds of war before we’ll be able to successfully help others that are suffering, if that’s what’s agreed upon.” a few jedi nodded their agreement, masters plo and gallia among them. shaak looks close to being convinced but seems to still be hesitant to comment on her opinion.

“in order to help the galaxy, we must help ourselves. our emotions must be looked into with more than just the intent to throw them away at a moment’s notice. knowing why we feel the things we do can help us with far more than just our connection to the force.”

this was an idea that obi-wan has spent many years struggling with but it took the end of the war to guide him into believing that emotions aren’t the enemy, it’s how they’re utilized that counts. he explained this concept to his fellow council members and it was a sentiment you agreed with immensely.

saese scoffs at the mere idea of doing more with emotions besides dispelling them into the force. “that sounds a lot like allowing your emotions to cloud your judgement, master kenobi, something your lineage is quite popular for-” oh he crossed the line. saese was not about to talk shit about your creche mate and closest friend or his lineage and get away with it.

“no need to pardon my language, master, but it sounds a lot like you’re allowing your own emotional shortcomings and the bantha fodder you call intelligence to cloud your judgement.”

even mace was stunned at the verbal jab that came from your seat. kit had been mid-drink and it took him several seconds to recover from the way he choked on his water. you were normally calm and collected, a voice of reason amid the chaos. this time, however, you were at your limit. this was your cue to leave.

mace spoke up as you neared the door. “y/l/n, where do you think you’re going?”

“i’m going to heal and allow myself to enjoy the peace we gave nearly everything to obtain. if you want to join me, feel free to let me know.”

your robes billowed out behind you as the council meeting dissolved into chaos. you were convinced that if your seat was close enough to master yoda’s that you’d be sporting a few new gimer stick bruises. thank the force for the little things.

later that evening, you boarded your personal ship and set the coordinates for scarif. that was the perfect place to go as a jedi that didn’t want to be found by anyone that they didn’t fully trust. who would think to find a monk on a planet filled with booze, sex, and other carnal pleasures? a few comms were sent telling the recipients that you were going on vacation and to call if you were needed, giving them a new private commlink and vague hints at where you’d be.

scarif, here i come.

“she hasn’t commed us in nearly a week! what reason is there to not worry?”

“rex, she would have called us if there was something wrong.”

“you know as well as i do that there are still radical seppies trying to keep the war going. the kidnapping of a jedi would surely be cause to fight!”

cody sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. he conceded that you ignoring their comms was highly unusual, yes, but you weren’t the type to throw yourself heedlessly into danger like some of the other jetti they knew (cough cough, skywalker and kenobi). “no one in their right mind is going to think to look for a jedi on scarif, the place is too carefree and without a permanent stuck up its shebs.”

rex knew there was a valid point to the statement. he vaguely recollects general kenobi’s mild yet humorous complaints about the “uncivilized, booze-blooded” inhabitants of the beach planet. general skywalker’s only problem with scarif, it seems, was the fact there was sand nearly everywhere, the drunks and constant parties posing no issue to the younger jedi. the reason for his disdain of sand was never expanded upon.

“i’m still going to look for her, feel free to come with.” they were free men who had no one to report to, no one telling them where they could go or when to eat and sleep, so of course rex was going to look for you. with this newfound freedom cody and rex moved into a middle-level apartment together, nothing too fancy but quite a contrast to their former living spaces under the gar.

rex chose to join the police force on coruscant and quickly climbed the ranks, excelling in every task thrown at him. he was a force to be reckoned with, crime rates dropping rapidly within his first month.

cody hasn’t made a new career choice yet, the commander still trying to find his own path. he had tried his hand on the police force but he quickly realized it wasn’t his cup of tea and left rex to it. he’s helping with groceries and other living costs with his back pay despite rex’s protests for him to put it to better use (what better use is there for credits than helping you survive day to day? that’s what they’re made for).

they were given a ship by general skywalker -anakin, rex’s mind supplied; he had corrected them many times about not using the rank- that the man had modified himself because he “wouldn’t want any friends of mine flying around the galaxy in a piece of junk.” apparently any sort of ship/speeder/droid/anything not built and/or modified by the man was inferior in nearly every imaginable way. it was a kind and meaningful gesture that anakin was willing to go to such lengths to protect them, no matter how unnecessary. the war was over after all, there was no need to have blaster attachments on their civilian speeder.

“like i’m gonna leave you to your own devices, di’kut. of course i’m going with.”

“you better hurry and pack, i’m planning on leaving no later than 1800.”

sitting in the reclined beach chair with two margaritas, you haven’t enjoyed yourself this much in a long time. the togrutan brother and sister you met soon after your arrival had become dear friends in your two months on scarif, the three of you becoming a trio commonly seen hitting the best parties all over the planet. miek wasn’t as much of a party animal in comparison to his sister briel who was known for her wild drunken antics.

you had been there and lived in your small ship for a total of two days before they offered you a place with them. no one lived alone on scarif, they said, and it would be wrong to let you continue to be deprived of the peace the waters brought when it was lulling you to sleep.

meeting the duke of scarif during your first week planetside was quite an exhilarating experience, to put it briefly. duke buffett was an older man with hair as white as the sands he loved to party on day and night, one hand perpetually occupied by a drink and a guitar strapped to his back. he was known to play and sing during the parties he attended, his carefree attitude evident in his voice.

although no one would have guessed by looking at him, he was a fierce conservationist who would either have his guards fight anyone caught littering or, if drunk enough, would fight them himself. you’ve held him back a time or two when he clearly wasn’t in shape to do said fighting and helped ease the situation back to a fun normal.

now you weren’t a heavy drinker by any means, but your tolerance was better than most because of your connection to the force. this made you a favorite drinking buddy to many of the planet’s permanent inhabitants and tourists. of these numbers was the duke himself whom you would sometimes humor by opening drinks with your lightsaber. it was a splendid game that won you diplomatic immunity (apparently he can do that) on the planet after two weeks of jedi party tricks and fight-preventing.

time had become even more of a social construct than you had believed it to be before the war. there were parties going on at all hours of the day and night and the concept of solitude was forgotten. everyone here extended a hand to each other, friend or not-yet friend (there were no strangers on scarif, just friends you haven’t made yet). what little pain felt was carried by all until it was so faint that it seemed to heal itself. the waters healed, you had no doubt in your mind.

the sun was high in the sky when the ship landed next to yours behind your current residence. you were, of course, not home to know where it landed but you did see said ship flying overhead as you relaxed on a blanket next to briel and miek. maybe they were lost, but you had confidence that someone on the island would help them in what they need. this was the way of scarif, after all.

you were distracted by the drinks in both of your hands, alternating sips between the two. you were outfitted in a flowy summer dress that had ridden up a smidge too high while you were lounging on a reclined beach chair. briel was rubbing - lotion? sunscreen? - something on your exposed thighs as you relaxed, enjoying the way the breeze felt on the moisturized skin.

this was the best decision you’ve ever made, coming to scarif. eventually you were going to leave, yeah, but that was a problem for future you. for now, you were going to enjoy the endless sunshine and copious amounts of alcohol that aided in your relaxation.

they had seen the docking bay protruding into the sky like a gundark among loth-cats and decided instantly that you weren’t going to be there. you had told them ages ago that the vibes (you used that word a lot to describe force things to them) that came from industrial buildings bothered you terribly. something along the lines of wearing on your psyche, if they remembered correctly. instead, they flew a little lower than they probably should have to search the ground for where you landed your ship.

it took longer than they would have liked it to, but your ship was eventually found behind a medium-sized hut not too far from one of the many beaches. cody found just the right angle to land next to it and not hurt either shuttle, not trusting rex to touch the controls (his vod was a terrible pilot).

both men decided that even if scarif was a peaceful planet, they still didn’t know what to expect, so they equipped themselves with their blasters and lower armor before leaving their ship. first order of business: check to see if you were in your ship. if you weren’t, they could cross that bridge when they got there.

just as they were beginning to open the ramp, a man emerged from the hut and began to storm their way. he was togrutan, with yellow skin and lavender stripes on his lekku and montrals.

“hey! you two! what’s your business with that shuttle?” he sounded like he was ready to fight them about the ship, which worried the brothers, but he slowed his advance when he noticed the two blasters pointed in his direction. good, this guy wasn’t a complete di’kut.

cody was the first to lower his weapon, quick to take the diplomatic approach. rex followed suit but didn’t soften the intimidating stare he threw at the man. there was a reason your ship was there and they were going to stop at nothing to find out why. “we’re looking for a friend of ours, she hasn’t answered our comms in over a week and we were worried, it isn’t like her to not reply. last we talked to her she was here on scarif.”

the togrutan paused for a moment, inspecting the appearances of the men (clones, his mind told him, the telltale armor and near identical faces hiding nothing) in front of him.

the blond had an air of confidence about him, an almost dangerous sort of confidence. his armor was painted with a shade of blue that was pleasantly similar to the waters he just returned from, pieces of it chipped from what he supposed were rough times in battle. his jaw was set, hand hovering above where he holstered his weapon seconds before.

he didn’t appear to be bloodthirsty, just protective; who he wanted to protect, however, was still a mystery. there was a passion in his eyes that wasn’t even mildly held back. he seemed to be skilled in channeling that passion into his every thought, every action. with a note to himself to not get on this man’s bad side, he switched his focus on the blond’s companion.

miek’s gaze shifted to the other clone and quickly decided that he liked this one better. there was an extremely intimidating scar along the side of his face, yet this one seemed far less willing to shoot him on sight. he still has a grit and presence about him that told miek that this one wouldn’t hesitate to fuck your shit up if need be, but he had tact (thank the stars one of the clones had a sense of discretion).

he could tell that this one had some sort of authority over the blond, clearly serving as a high percentage of the other’s common sense. miek’s mind, after analyzing the men thoroughly, gives names for the men before they introduce themselves. “you must be the famed rex and cody! come, i’ll take you to the shoreline!”

he gestured for them to follow him and was genuinely shocked when instead of doing as he suggested, he was tackled to the ground. miek spit away everything that had gotten into his mouth, unable to move when one of the men pinned him down. this was officially miek’s worst day in over a decade.

he caught a glimpse of marigold stripes on leg armor just over his shoulder, confirming the identity of the man on top of him as rex. “how do you know our names?!” rex’s voice sent a shiver down miek’s spine (the blaster against his back also helped in that), and the togrutan reaffirmed his choice in his favorite clone: not rex.

“i’ve heard stories about you two! from y/n! i’m assuming you’re here about y/n, right?” the blaster was removed from his back and a little bit of the weight was taken off him. he must be saying something right. “she’s been staying with my sister and i, and i promise you she’s perfectly safe!” rex moves his weight completely off him now, allowing miek to stand back up but not move more than a few feet away from him.

“where is she?” cody’s voice was hauntingly low, nothing about him betraying his tension except for the hard glare felt like lasers. he had the same desire, same yearning to protect someone - that someone miek now knew was you - and it burned brighter than a hundred suns.

“last i saw her was thirty minutes ago on the shore with briel, my sister. i can take you to them if you would kindly not threaten to shoot me again. my name is miek, and i would say it was a pleasure to meet you both but then i’d be making myself a liar.” he had no idea where that bit of snark at the end came from but it seemed to sway the clones to his favor. why it did, he had no clue, but at least he wasn’t getting shot.

they walked silently for a few minutes, the two troopers beginning to slightly admire the view while keeping eyes on miek. it was a beautiful planet, there was no denying that. you were surely enjoying yourself in the sunshine, always finding a little bit of time to bask in the nature of whatever planet you ended up on during the war.

it was strange to cody, not feeling eyes on him as he walked with rex on the beach. when he would accompany general ke- obi-wan on trips to the temple or into the streets of coruscant, he constantly felt the eyes of many on him. they would be expressing curiosity, shock, disdain, or something in between, and cody could feel every bit of it. here, it seemed, no one cared that he was a clone. no one was leering at him for walking too close to them or for just breathing the same air as them. cody was blissfully able to blend with the people here and he loved it.

he was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t notice when miek had come to a stop in front of a small cluster of reclinable chairs. a large umbrella provided the area with a patch of shade and a smidge of reprieve from the sun’s blistering heat.

“see? she’s perfectly fine.” miek’s voice broke their precious silence. “i’m assuming you both can find your own way back to your ship, so i’ll be headed off.” miek left them quite quickly and rex guessed (with a bit more amusement than was warranted) that it was because he nearly shot the man on more than one occasion minutes earlier.

“cody! rex! when did you two get here?”

a familiar voice drew their attention and it took them a second longer than it should have for them to realize that yes, you were the one lounging in front of them as if it’s all you’ve ever done in your life. you were extremely relaxed and your posture conveyed your state perfectly, two margaritas perched in loose hands, both half-empty. an ivory summer dress flowed loosely around you, the front hiked a bit too high for the men to keep their imaginations under control. that wasn’t even acknowledging the neckline of your dress (or lack thereof) that made their throats a bit dry and minds slip into the gutter.

rex and cody cleared their heads after indulging the images for a second, the latter clearing his throat before replying, “just a few minutes ago. you haven’t answered our comms in over a week. rex had the idea to come and visit to see how you were doing, so here we are.”

that was really sweet of them to check up on you, you thought with a smile. you felt a bit guilty about not answering their comms. normally you were careful to reply to theirs and every other message you received soon after getting it, but as stated earlier, time has become a social construct that didn’t really matter while on scarif. you gestured for them to sit, and they took the open chair to your left. they didn’t bother laying back, just sitting shoulder to shoulder in the same chair with their eyes on you.

offering them both half-drank margaritas was a subconscious action on your part that surprised you. what shocked you even more was the fact they accepted the drinks with soft, fond smiles. kriff you missed them, how you’ve been able to go this long without seeing them was beyond you.

you smiled warmly as you introduced your boys to briel, who was smirking a bit too widely than would be deemed safe (you didn’t notice this, seeing as you were too busy drinking in the sight of your boys and the way the sunlight made their eyes glow). her eyes drifted to your thighs as she put in very little effort to hide a laugh. dark clone trooper eyes decided to see what was so amusing to the togruta, and they choked on whatever words they were contemplating.

on your thighs were rex and cody, left and right respectively. or, more accurately, on your thighs were six-inch tattoos of rex and cody.

both men were in quite show-offy poses, appearing to have the intent to make them look like pin-ups. the lower half of their armor was equipped but they were shirtless, faint details of scars and sweat appearing to glisten in imaginary sunlight.

cody’s face was set in a smolder the likes of which would send half the women in the galaxy into puddles at the commander’s feet. his dc-15a was held aloft in his right hand while his left arm was holding his helmet in place in the crook of his hip. his left foot was stepping on a small heap of droids which brought his knee up a bit, and he was facing the inked rex on the opposite thigh.

rex’s wild smile could catch the soggiest piece of kindling alight with the allure and charm it held. his eyes were sparkling with a pleasant mirth not often seen in the man. both hands wielded his trusted dc-17’s, the right blaster pointed at the droids under cody’s foot while the left was pointed in the air, blaster bolts coming out of both. his helmet was under his right foot, jaig eyes almost peering into your soul and welding marks visible from his customization of the phase 2 helmet.

commander and captain are both beginning to flush at the art in front of them. they were flattered to see drawings of themselves look so dashing, and seeing it on your body roused feelings they had spent years repressing. their biggest question now was whether their likenesses on your body translated into something more on your end.

“nice to finally meet my friend’s muses,” briel quips, “it’s hard to get her to talk about something that isn’t you two when she’s plastered.” she pauses a moment, thinking of her next words and chuckling to herself. “she’s barely spent three consecutive days completely sober since she got here, which means that you two are almost all she talks about.”

this deepened the heat in their cheeks as you playfully swatted at briel’s shoulder. “that is not true!” a moment of silence. “wait, what day is it? that miiiight make a difference.”

rex chortles at the admission. “glad to see you enjoying yourself, cyare. but kix would be enraged to hear that you’ve been drinking nearly every day for two months, and we can’t exactly blame him.” he grinned as he took an experimental sip of the drink you gave him. it was stronger than he expected, but it had an underlying sweetness not often found in margaritas. he liked it.

sitting up, your dress covered your ink as you expertly drank from the margarita in cody’s hand while he still held it. the commander sent you a soft glare, wondering why you didn’t just get a new drink but enjoying the moment nonetheless. “kix shmix, his face isn’t on my thigh so i don’t really care what he has to say right now.” you lean toward cody and rex before whispering, “you didn’t bring him, did you?”

all three of them guffawed at the question, you joining their laughter solely because of how happy the joy radiating from your boys’ force signatures made you.

calling them your boys had become second nature after mere months of fighting beside them. you spent an inane amount of time with them during planning and actual combat, and were just as much their general as their actual generals were (despite you not carrying the honorific). any free time was spent with one or the other if available, but if they were both occupied you would make your way toward the barracks and join a few games of sabacc.

there were nights you’d spend in the barracks with either battalion (depends on which group you were assigned to at the time) and be welcomed there as if you were a fellow clone. they taught you to play sabacc and you enjoyed playing with them despite the fact you had the most rotten luck with the game.

winning didn’t carry any weight when you were able to spend time with rex and cody, shamelessly basking in the way they always seemed to have some sort of physical contact with you every moment possible. when rex and/or cody returned from whatever responsibilities held them earlier, the men were quick to relinquish them a seat next to you with a sly grin.

their vode noticed the affection shared for the jedi on sabacc night number two and didn’t hesitate to spread word of it around to the rest of their battalions and beyond. on the nights you accompanied them on trips to 79’s, men under rex and cody both (read: fives and boil) made sure that the rest of their brothers and the occasional civvie knew that you three were off-limits to anyone but each other. you were their jetti & they were your captain and commander, no one would get between that even if it wasn’t decided among those in question.

“nah, he’s kept his head in his work. he just got his civvie medical license, started his own private practice on naboo.” rex was extremely happy for his brother, although it was strange to not see him nearly every day. it took a while before he was used to the lack of vode around him at all moments, but cody has been a massive help with that transition.

cody nodded before adding onto his brother’s statement. “and besides, we’re not that cruel, cyar’ika.” you grinned at the endearing tone, choosing that moment to snag another drink from the glass in cody’s hand. he swatted at your hand gently but didn’t put up a fight otherwise, just smiling at how carefree you’d become.

during their comms you did sound at peace, and the times where you’d appear via hologram to him your posture was less rigid than it was during wartime. scarif was good for you, cody knew this. the knowledge of your happiness, however, couldn’t prevent selfish thoughts from returning to the front of his mind. thoughts of you leaving scarif with him and rex, lighting up their apartment better than the sun with nothing but a smile were pipe dreams he indulged in when nightmares of war caught up to him.

“y’know,” you began, “no one would ever tell me what that word really meant.” the men froze, trying to play it off. they were saved only by the fact you kept talking. “none of the men ever gave me a straight answer, just saying that it was something you say to someone you trusted. i even asked duchess satine about it when i was on mandalore. she asked who was using the word and when i told her it was you two, she just grinned like a tooka with a rat tail hanging from its mouth.”

duchess satine was most definitely going to be receiving a gift in the near future.

briel chose that moment to speak for the first time in a while, crossing her arms behind her head. “i’ve never been to mandalore nor heard a lick of what i’m guessing is its native language, but you’d have to be a fool to not guess its meaning by now.” her words were directed at you but they made the men sputter.

“what is that supposed to mean, brie?”

“seriously? please tell me you’re kidding.”

briel was absolutely incredulous. how could a member of the highly revered jedi order, known for the wisdom of its members, not read between the lines? they were giving her plenty to work with in terms of evidence of their affections that they weren’t hiding very well, how did you not know?!

silence followed her words and she came to the startling realization that you were, in fact, not kidding. “look at them, these two adore you! they followed you here like stray tookas when you didn’t comm them enough.” the men didn’t even bother looking offended as they were called out by the togruta. they were scared you’d be disgruntled at the blatant show of care for you but briel wasn’t done. “sithspit y/n, you got tattoos of them because you said you missed them so much!”

hold on, rewind, what did she just say?!

“you… missed us?” rex’s voice was softer than anyone had heard it be in a long time. part of him aches to throw his drink over his shoulder and take you into his arms with no regard to the outside world, yet he restrains himself. this could very well be a trap, an illusion or extremely detailed dream the likes of which he’s never experienced.

then again, how would that explain his mind creating a taste for something he’s never had before?

he concluded that this was indeed real, and he very well could do exactly as his heart desires if he let go for just a moment, just long enough for the contents of his glass to seep into the sand and his calloused hands to roam your exposed skin.

but he also remembers long talks with his ori’vod about their mutual affections for you. how selfish and uncaring it would be for him to try and keep you to himself after spending so many nights lamenting with cody about the way you made them both feel more human. the way you tethered them to sanity when the war threatened to dispose of what little control they had over themselves or their fates, the softness of your fingers intertwined with theirs whenever you had the chance. both men would contemplate the way you’d taste as you downed several shots at 79’s or cups of the contraband moonshine brewed by the men, wondering how much would be the alcohol and how much would be you and wishing that they could find out.

it would be a betrayal far greater and even more despicable than that of palpatine and the republic, and rex didn’t think he could handle losing the respect of his ori’vod no matter what was given in return. not even you.

the togruta woman officially lost the last speck of patience she held for the clueless, lovesick trio, groaning that she gave up as she left them to their own devices.

you were confused. why would you not miss them? did those years of fighting next to them and caring about them and loving them not translate to the idea of missing them when they were gone? yeah you were a little tipsy when you got your tattoos, but that didn’t change the facts as to why you got them: you wanted cody and rex by your side and moments spent without them were moments spent unhappy. they were your boys, the two reasons you kept fighting in that cursed war instead of returning to the temple with your tail between your legs at the first sign of combat.

cody downed his margarita with a solid gulp before taking your right hand in both of his, face twisted almost identically to his brother’s while processing the information you presented. he marveled in the familiar grooves and calluses from battle that were beginning to soften, thoroughly enjoying the fact he didn’t have to hide anything from you or the rest of the galaxy about the love - cody was sure now that this was indeed love - he held for you and you alone.

“is that true, cyar’ika?” cody’s voice was sickeningly hopeful. he’s never allowed himself to hope, knowing that diving too deep into desire could lead to consequences tantamount to death. hearing you stumble over your words as you admitted to loving him, loving him and rex both in the same capacity, cracked the last mask of stoicism he had in his reserves. his mouth was smiling but his eyes were wet, and anyone who didn’t know him would think the man was karking mad.

you weren’t as focused on your boys as you would have been any other moment, too busy trying to figure out what you said for cody to ask about and oh. holy shit, i said all of that out loud. then, a brief moment of clarity. i said every bit of that, but they’re not leaving. they’re instead moving closer, taking my hands in theirs and then- “have i ever lied to either of you?” your heart once again overpowered your brain, taking over your vocal chords and bringing voice to your thoughts.

rex nestled his glass into the sand before going to his knees in front of you, eyes sparkling from both the scarif sun and unshed tears. “you could never, ner’jetti.” he rested his chin on your knee not blocked by cody, his subconscious deciding to nuzzle his head into the hand that had come up to his face.

within seconds, the clunky armor had taken to the sand. they didn’t startle at the sudden exposure to just their bottom blacks because they could feel the soft humming of the force around them, knowing that it was merely you making them more comfortable. you were pulling them toward you and into your reclined chair, rex’s chin in one hand and cody’s hands in the other. they were quick to take a hint, immediately moving to either side of you to lay on their sides, facing their jetti with soft smiles.

rex made quick work of wrapping an arm around your waist, face burying itself into the crook of your neck as best he could. he inhaled your scent, the familiar ozone that came with the force mingling wonderfully with scarif’s ocean water and the tropical drinks you’ve been keeping yourself busy with.

cody tangled one hand into your hair, fingers softly moving as he rested his other arm slightly above his brother’s. the hand touching your waist softly stroked your side as he let his eyes drift closed, the force wrapped around him like a blanket of protection.

no one spoke of love in the hours you spent wrapped in each other’s arms in that uncomfortable-for-three-people chair. the admissions and conveyance of all the love held between the three of you was saved for the privacy of their ship. cody and rex worshiped you and you did the same for them, no one allowing there to be a single doubt as to where your hearts belong.

#star wars reader insert #star wars fanfic #star wars imagines #star wars the clone wars #star wars #captain rex #captain rex x reader #captain rex imagines #commander cody #commander cody x reader #commander cody imagine #captain rex x reader x commander cody #poly rex x reader x cody #commander cody x reader x captain rex #beach please #this is fluffy as hell #i refuse to ship him with qui-gon #ct-7567 #cc-2224

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lokidiabolus · 4 years ago

Text

Last Resort - chapter 1

Fandom: The Maze Runner

Pairing: Thomas x Newt

Warnings: ex boyfriends, AU

Summary: Three years after breaking up with Thomas, Newt finally thought the past of hating each other was behind them, until Thomas asked him for a favour - pretend they got back together for a week while staying at his parents' home. Because it was an absolutely dumb idea, Newt was inclined to refuse, but then found himself in the house he used to visit when he was in love and happy and the bitter reality of only pretending for people he always liked made him miserable. But it was nothing against dealing with Thomas himself for a week straight and trying not to fall back in love that hurt them both.

Or: Prompt ch. 192 with added spice. Or something. I just needed to write for a while :')

Can be found on Ao3.

Notes: Hi! I was really into writing something, like really, really hyped, but then couldn't find anything that would make me go "yaaas!". So I thought of just giving up, until I somehow vaguely recalled I wrote this small one shot about two exes falling back in love in parents' house, and just sort of thought: oh yeah. Angst, good. Could add some horny. Good. Let's try. So here we are. Trying. It's not exactly deep or anything. I just needed to get this out of my system :') And it's not like I can't write anything else but AUs... ha.

Unbetad!

Sometimes Newt felt like the world was against him in literally any kind of situation. Once he decided to commit to something, a sudden force worked against him immediately, completely ruining the plan, or at least derailing his confidence in it. For about a year he thought that maybe it was the Universe giving him signs, for another year it felt like a karmic backslash and this year he settled on the fact he was just being despised by whatever higher force was in charge.

Although last year wasn’t as bad, really, until November 12th on dot. If it was about to be documented anywhere, he was just getting out of his shower, quite sleepy already, in rather calm, peaceful mood, once his phone dinged with a new message and he, without knowing the consequences of reading it, opened it. Even though it had Thomas as a sender - he thought later it should have deterred him from ruining the night for himself. Yet, his stupid lizard brain just clicked on it, blissfully unaware.

ThomAss - [23:14] – This is a life-or-death matter, you HAVE TO help me out D:

Newt - [23:15] – HAVE TO even.

ThomAss - [23:16] – YES. Please. I’m ready to beg too, that’s how desperate I am!

Newt - [23:17] – Hmm. Tempting. On your knees?

ThomAss - [23:18] – It’s negotiable.

Newt - [23:19] – Might think about it. Go on.

ThomAss - [23:20] – I need you to come home with me. I mean to my parents’ home.

Newt - [23:21] – What…?

ThomAss - [23:22] – It’s an emergency. They’re being persistent, so I need to bring somebody over.

Newt - [23:24] – I don’t follow?

ThomAss - [23:25] – Somebody I’m dating, that is.

Newt - [23:26] – Yeah, no.

ThomAss - [23:27] – Pleaaaaaaaaaase! T^T

He refused to admit he was fuming when he tossed his phone on the mattress and ignored how it beeped several times with new messages. There was no bloody way he’d go all smiling into Thomas’ parent’s house and pretend they were dating when they broke up three years ago in bad blood and it took them over two years to recover enough to be able to at least talk in a civil way. Sure, these past few months were sort of… better than the rest, though Newt didn’t really know if there was a reason, or they just let go of the grudge.

Well, partially let go, at least Newt’s was still lightly festering sometimes, on bad days when he was stupid enough to let his guard down and remind himself of it.

His phone beeped three more times and then the silence of his flat got sliced to pieces by the obnoxious ringtone he put in spite to Thomas’ contact two years ago. They weren’t calling each other, so there was no way he’d hear it at any point back then, but now, when the sound filled his home, he had a fleeting thought of smashing the phone to pieces instead.

“I said no,” he answered anyway, cold enough for Thomas to definitely get shivers on the other side of the line.

“Newt, please, I beg you,” Thomas didn’t even bother with greetings and whined like a five-year-old. “You can’t possibly be that cruel, can you?”

“Minho,” Newt gritted out. “Why not him?”

“He’s in England! Drinking tea! He’d throw me off the Big Ben if I interrupted his super-secret-date-everybody-knows-about!” Thomas responded frantically and Newt pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

Fine, he had a point, probably, Minho would rage at him if he tried to drag him back shit like this. He planned the totally-not-a-date for months, never introduced the person and then disappeared. Everyone knew why, but they didn’t know to who.

“Teresa.” Another possibility, and Thomas’ groaned into the speaker.

Oh, so he already asked her, and she turned him down. Not to mention…

“Brenda?”

Another groan.

“For fuck’s sake,” Newt had to force himself not to throw the phone against the wall. “Have you literally asked everyone and I’m the bloody last resort?”

“Sort of?” Thomas piped and Newt refused to acknowledge how it stung weirdly.

Am I being hypocritical?

It wasn’t like he was willing to go anyway, but somehow his pride didn’t like it. And his pride was a bitch, he knew, and had the power to overwrite his common sense.

“Look, it’s just…” Thomas sighed into the phone. “…embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?” the blond repeated. He would say uncomfortable maybe, but embarrassing? “What is bloody embarrassing about it? I’ve heard you snore and fart and throw up and come, and you think this is embarrassing?”

“This is embarrassing!” Thomas whined like couldn’t hear the naked truth and Newt shook his head. They had their history, and it wasn’t just a week short fling. They lived together for three years and dated for seven, there honestly couldn’t be much of an embarrassment present anymore.

Although maybe yes, after three years of barely talking.

“You’re ridiculous,” he mumbled after, dropping a towel he was drying his hair with on the bed. “How’s this even a question, can you just tell them you’re single? Or. I don’t know, that the person you date had other business to attend to?”

“No,” Thomas answered immediately. “I can’t and I won’t. You act like you don’t know them, they’re onto me.”

“Cuz you’re a liar?” Newt tilted his head to the side and Thomas grumbled.

“Am not, okay.”

“So where’s your significant other that can’t attend?”

“On the phone right now, being difficult. Obviously,” Thomas delivered without ounce of shame and if he was standing right in front of Newt, he would have one in his face. “Look, I didn’t want to ask you, cuz of course it’s kinda weird, since my parents already know you and all.”

Of course he would rather bring Teresa or Brenda over, Newt thought and the bitterness surprised him.

“Well, at least they wouldn’t be as shocked,” he said in response, pushing the wave of reminiscing back down. “Imagine Minho, he would probably tear the place apart.”

“Yeah, but we didn’t break up with Minho,” Thomas reminded him, keeping the sombre tone despite Newt trying to lighten the situation.

“You don’t say,” he said instead. “And?”

“And they know we did,” Thomas continued. “So it’s gonna be awkward, you know.”

“Can imagine, yes,” Newt didn’t want to play dumb. “I already told you no though, so there’s no reason to torture yourself with the what if.”

“When did I ever want anything this important from you though!” The whine was back, and Newt sucked in a sharp breath.

“You want me to make you a list? Or would a text suffice.”

“I told you I’d beg on my knees, right? I will. I’m ready to go to your place right now and kneel for the whole night if that’d please you,” Thomas shot back, sounding too serious for Newt’s liking. His neighbours would hate him if Thomas spent the night in front of his door on his knees, serenading him just to make him cave in.

“For fuck’s sake, for how long am I going to be pretending I love your stupid face again then?” he growled unhappily and Thomas on the other side let out a small laugh.

“Well, mum said a weeklong vacation, but I’m sure like three days would be enough to sate her craving for whatever she actually craves when she forces me to do this,” he dropped like a week wasn’t a death sentence or could pose an actual problem with Newt’s remaining vacation days. Which was not. But Thomas didn’t know that.

“I know you have vacation days left, since you always hoard them,” Thomas immediately added like he could read his mind and Newt couldn’t stop the curse leaving his mouth. “It’s not so bad, right? Countryside, fresh air, great food and for free.”

“For the cost of my sanity, but sure, for free,” Newt grumbled and padded to the table to boot up his notebook. “When?”

“I’d pick you up on this Friday at 3? Work or home, your pick.” There was an obvious relief in Thomas’ voice and Newt kind of wanted to remind him they still broke up and barely talked to each other for two and half years, so it was not going to be a walk in a park at any point, but he kept his mouth shut.

“I work till 4,” he uttered while opening his e-mail and started to write a request for vacation. “So something past 4 in front of my workplace should be fine.”

“Four? Since when?” came a question and Newt rolled his eyes. “It used to be 3 max.”

“Three years ago, sure,” Newt decided to overlook Thomas’ weird habit of keeping shit like this memorized. “Things changed.”

“You work longer for the same pay?” Thomas guessed and Newt scoffed.

“I’m not an idiot, okay,” he commented sternly. “I got promoted. So I go to work a bit later, but work till later too.”

“Aaah,” Thomas voiced. “That’s pretty cool. Congratz.”

Year and half late, but I guess it’s the thought that counts. He just hummed.

“Then four it is,” Thomas got back on track easily. “Thanks, Newt. You’re a lifesaver.”

“You don’t know what it will cost ya yet, don’t be so happy about it,” Newt said grumpily. “I don’t work for free.”

“How’s pleasant company and free accommodation and full inclusive not enough for you? You spoiled little bitch,” Thomas faked an offended tone and Newt rolled his eyes.

“Pleasant company is questionable, since you’re going to be there,” he shot back, more out of habit than with an actual spiteful intent. “But I guess your family will do.”

“Oof, alright,” it didn’t take anything from the cheerful tone of his, “you can send me a bill after. Fucking high maintenance as always, aren’t you.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Newt chirped and hung up. The moment he sent the mail to his boss he immediately regretted it.

***

Friday came so fast Newt barely noticed the week whooshing past him, and suddenly it was 3:50, he was basically done with his workload for the day, his weeklong vacation got a green light and a bag with his things was sitting mockingly on his table, reminding him he was an idiot who just liked to make himself miserable.

Thomas was already texting him since morning to not forget to pack undies like he was a mastermind of great humour and Newt’s eyes lingered a bit too long on a kitchen knife when he was packing yesterday.

But then again, Thomas’ mum definitely had much better cutlery, so the variety of murder weapons just multiplied.

He pointedly ignored how his stomach lurched at the sight of Thomas at his car in casual clothes and unzipped jacket like it was spring (the -4 degrees disagreed with him, and especially with Newt’s complete lack of proper thermoregulation), actually having a pleasant expression on his face Newt last seen… well, long time ago. He took Newt’s bag and put it in the boot of the car with such nonchalance Newt almost believed his parents might be tricked into thinking they really got back together, how smooth and easy he made it look. Newt refused to ruin it with sarcasm, so he just got into the passenger seat and let Thomas get them on the road.

“You know Christmas is still a month away, right?” Thomas commented once Newt got rid of his coat and scarf, since the car was warm inside, and tossed it onto the back seat, before putting on the seatbelt.

“Yeah?” he raised an eyebrow at him and didn’t like the smile Thomas had on his lips. He was going to nag, for sure.

“Just that you’re wrapped like a present,” came an expected comeback. “How many layers you even have? You took all of your winter clothes on?”

“Stuff it,” the blond glared at him. “It’s cold outside.”

“It’s not that cold though?” Of course Thomas wouldn’t let it go.

“Just cuz you circulate lava and not blood doesn’t mean others do too,” Newt’s glare intensified. “Like it’s something bloody new I’m cold as fuck all the time.”

“Yeah, it’s really not,” his companion shrugged with self-satisfied smirk and Newt wanted to stomp on the brake and just get out of the car. Why did he agree again?

Prick.

What even made him so happy? Still didn’t realize how many faked smiles he’s going plaster on his face through the stay? Or he didn’t care?

“What are we going to tell them?” he asked instead to bring them closer to the problem, since the resolution was only three hours’ drive away. He wouldn’t admit it, but since he agreed to help with this clownery, he couldn’t stop thinking about what to tell the people he genuinely liked and didn’t want to lie to. He could almost forget how rare it was to stay alone with Thomas these days – or months – or years – without an urge to strangle the brunet every time he got close and opened his mouth, when they were sitting in the car so peacefully now.

It was calm but utterly bitter.

The bitterness, Newt thought, was probably still the remnant from three years ago. Maybe not as vicious, but still accompanying him after all these years, every time they saw each other. The first year was catastrophic, the second they both calmed down a bit, and the third they actually managed to lead a normal, reasonable conversation with minimum insults.

Newt wasn’t shy to admit he missed his ex during quiet moments of his life; somehow. He was especially prone to it during his birthday, somehow spending the passing years without Thomas’ company hurt, despite the bad parting. Talking with Thomas with more ease was nostalgic. But his brain always helpfully supplied it was not going to last because they were still the stupid, broken up them deep down.

Not to mention pretending to be lovers just to get Thomas’ parents off his back was lame as fuck. He had no idea why he agreed. Maybe he was lame too.

“I don’t know. We bumped into each other on a party and made out in a closet,” Thomas responded, the smile finally falling off, his eyes glued to the road before him. “And decided to try it again.”

“Ugh.”

“What, you have a better idea?” Thomas shot him a look and Newt snorted.

“We managed to talk normally again and realized we’re still in love with each other?” he offered, just to piss him off. “Since, you know, it happens to normal people?”

“What, sex in the closet does not?” There was that annoyance in Thomas’ voice again Newt knew so well. They usually talked to each other like that – annoyed, nagging, angry, and it wasn’t hard to fall back into it.

“Probably to you,” he averted his eyes from his companion and watched the passing scenery instead. “But I’m not that easy.”

“That’s true,” he heard Thomas whisper, more to himself, and rather buried himself lower into the seat. The fact their intimate life sucked the last month they were together hadn’t been a secret and Newt was very much aware it just sped up the fall of their relationship. But at that point it all felt wrong, and the last thing Newt had wanted was having angry sex, or sex out of obligation, or basically anything intimate without enjoying the other person’s company. Because they sure weren’t enjoying each other for some time already.

Thomas didn’t like it. And he was pretty open about not liking it. But then again, so was Newt.

And then they broke up. It was outside during Christmas, under the lit-up tree on the city square, and Newt still considered it the most unpleasant memory of his life. They were furious, both of them, and the breakup was inevitable, but when it finally came, it wasn’t an explosion full of shouting or accusing as he expected.

Nope, it was quiet, cold and devastating. Seven years down the drain, just like that.

“Let’s go with your version,” he heard Thomas saying roughly. “It happens.”

“Yeah,” he piped, closing his eyes.

In fairy tales.

***

“Oh my god, I knew it!”

It was the first thing that hit them both when the door to the house opened and Thomas’ mother ran out, shrieking like a siren while going straight to Newt and almost suffocated him in an embrace. “I knew you two would get back together, I knew it!”

“There goes the surprise,” Newt managed from the rest of his breath and when she finally released him just to run back to the house to tell the rest of the family the big news, he gasped like he was drowning.

“Good to know she’s as strong as ever,” he croaked, and Thomas hummed and took both of their bags to carry it inside. He had gotten visibly darker and grumpier the closer they got to his hometown and now he almost visibly carried a dark, raining cloud above his head, looking like he just arrived at his own funeral.

Newt followed him inside with surprising ease though, like returning to this place somewhat negated everything Thomas tried to spoil. He had only nice, pleasant memories of this house, and those people, so even if Thomas ought to be a dickhead, he could always enjoy himself here.

“Newt!” a roaring voice welcomed him next, and another crushing hug lifted him from the floor. Thomas’ father was a big, broad guy who could probably lift the house itself, and his jolly personality apparently remained untouched as well.

“Hi there,” the blond greeted him right the moment he got back to the ground, trying to withstand the bear pat that followed. “Haven’t seen you in forever.”

“Likewise!” the big guy cheerily replied. “Glad to see he came back to his senses! Was seriously afraid he’d bring that gloomy goth girl here, I don’t think we have enough black around for that.”

Teresa or Brenda.

“Nah, he still has a thing for blonds,” he replied with a smile and immediately heard Thomas’ scoffing from the living room. The fact that both Teresa and Brenda turned him down must have scarred his ego a lot.

The jab was worth it though.

***

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Anna (Thomas’ mum) patted his arm for about fourth time already since they arrived, her face fond and eyes happy, and it made Newt guilty as hell. They all gathered in the kitchen, which smelled like fantastic food and happy memories. “I swear the breakup was so shocking, we didn’t want to believe it. Tom took it so badly too, I-,”

“Mum,” Thomas’ voice sounded threatening from behind them. “Stop feeding him useless stuff. He just got off work and spent three hours in the car, let him breathe a little.”

She made a face at him but sent Newt an apologetic smile and gave him a muffin. Still tasted as he remembered, and he had to admit those small welcoming bits were the only brakes he had from running away. It wasn’t like Thomas was nasty towards him or anything – he wouldn’t dare since they’d call him out on it – but since they had the talk in the car Newt could feel the uncomfortable tension between them that always ended in an argument.

“You want coffee?” Newt realized Thomas was looking at him now, eyebrows raised, and he just nodded, not trusting himself to say anything.

“I’ll bring it to you, you can go sit with others,” Thomas added as if he couldn’t get rid of him fast enough and Newt didn’t argue with that logic. The moment he left the kitchen and sat between Thomas’ dad and sister, relief washed over him, and he could finally breathe a little easier.

“I thought you’d already be married to somebody decent,” Hannah (Thomas’ little sister) commented while she plastered herself against Newt’s side like she used to do when she was little. Newt haven’t seen her for about four years, give or take, and now she was 14 and apparently full of opinions. “And not wasting your time with him again.”

Him, pointedly looking at her brother who was sneering at her while entering the living room with Newt’s coffee, was seemingly normal occurrence lately, judging from zero reactions from the parents.

“I know, I’ll never learn,” Newt piped in anyway, which made Thomas sneer at him for a change, and almost spilling the coffee on him, not even trying to mask it as an accident.

“Do I have to be the target of your bad jokes?” he glared at them collectively and when Anna arrived after him with dinner, Newt felt nostalgic, like literally nothing changed, and he relaxed into it with more ease than he expected.

He was just glad Thomas was sitting further from him and didn’t need to force himself to act natural. When he reached for the coffee, his favourite taste of it surprised him, but he didn’t meet Thomas’ eyes.

***

“I have to say, you got even cuter,” Anna suddenly said once they were past dinner, Newt couldn’t eat or drink anymore or he would explode and decided to walk it out while helping her bringing dishes to the kitchen and putting them in a dishwasher.

“Anna,” he chuckled. “That’s not what a guy wants to hear.”

“I’m just saying,” she had a genuine smile on her face. “I feared I’d never get to see you here ever again. I know you don’t really want to talk about the breakup and all…”

She stopped for a second, her eyes searching, and Newt hated how strangely painful it made him feel. He sincerely hoped it didn’t show on his face.

“I just want you to know I’m happy you two got back together,” she concluded, which meant it definitely showed on Newt’s face and she saw it. “I know you must have your reasons back then and everything, but I’m just… so glad for you two. And I wish you’d visit more often as well.”

Newt’s chest tightened like he was about to have a heart-attack and he had to push the guilt back down with the power of his sheer will alone, right in front of her trusting, hopeful eyes, like he was disarming a ticking bomb with 10 seconds on the countdown. He expected maybe some initial awkwardness, or some of them poke fun at how they finally got their shit back together after three years, but this wasn’t the plan and he hated how he wanted to hide behind Thomas’ back and just push him to deal with this instead.

“Yeah,” he gulped down the rising agony. “We absolutely should.”

Liar.

“You were always such a great kid,” she pushed herself from the kitchen counter and pulled him into a tight, heartfelt hug. Tears almost spilled out of Newt’s eyes when she squeezed him with loving gentleness he didn’t want to feel again to know what he was missing. “We all love you so much. Thank you for coming back.”

He couldn’t stop the guilt anymore and quietly wept into her shoulder, praying to any higher power for her not to notice.

***

It wasn’t an escape. He did not run away like a coward the moment he could. He didn’t light up his cigarette outside on a porch with trembling hands because he couldn’t get his nerves under control. It just happened. He just felt like it. He just needed the fresh air, nothing else.

He thought, maybe if he kept telling himself that, the tears would eventually stop and he wouldn’t be sniffling anymore into the night, with sky sprinkled with stars and air cold enough to make his face feel like ice.

He heard the door opening only vaguely, his eyes stinging, until the automatic light flashed above him, signalizing a movement nearby. He noticed Thomas too late, he realized when he started pathetically wiping away tears into his sleeve.

“You okay?” Thomas asked a bit abundantly, seeing the state of his, but Newt had to admit there weren’t many other questions to ask anyway.

“Yeah,” Newt sniffled, trying to get his feelings under control, but failing miserably. “Sorry… just. Give me a few, I’ll be fine.”

Thomas took a step closer, and Newt hated how he flinched at that.

“Mum told you something?”

He had an unreadable face, Newt thought. Neutral and careful and Newt couldn’t say what he was thinking. He hated how the ability of reading this man just disappeared like the rest of their history.

“Nothing bad,” he shook his head and brought the cigarette to his lips, inhaling shortly. His hands still trembled but not as badly anymore. “Are they worried?”

“Not yet, I think,” Thomas replied quietly, glancing towards the door, then sighed. “I guess it’s… kind of painful.”

“Kind of,” Newt agreed softly. “But it reminds me how nice it was when it lasted.”

“Yeah,” Thomas finally glanced at him, his eyes a bit warmer. “It was amazing.”

Newt felt a lump in his throat forming, and the more Thomas was looking at him, the worse it got, until he couldn’t really stand it. So he offered a small, apologetic smile, put the cigarette out and returned back to the house with buzzing in his head and weird pressure in his chest.

The mischievous grins Thomas’ family gave him once he reappeared in the living room never felt so wrong.

***

Newt didn’t really plan on it, but since the night progressed and his company slowly started leaving for the night, he eventually fell asleep on the couch in the living room. He thought he heard somebody trying to wake him while softly saying his name, but he was too exhausted to rise to the challenge and just let his eyes close shut.

The last thing he noticed was sudden warmth engulfing him, like being hugged by a fluffy animal and then he was out like a light.

He dreamed of first loves and heartbreaks.

***

“You’re being 17 only once in your life, man, cheer up a little!”

Newt grumpily looked at the shot he was given with liquid of unknown origin and then back at Minho, who was grinning at him encouragingly, already drunk enough to be considered not the most reliable source of what fun is. Newt couldn’t say he liked the taste of any alcohol he tried so far, and even though Minho made it look like it’s the most delicious thing he ever had, every cup tasted like spirit and burned unpleasantly.

Sure, he was 17 today. Sure, he tried alcohol because everybody did to celebrate, but every time they looked away, he just poured the rest of his cup into something that could hold it (the cactus probably wasn’t happy about it and Newt mentally apologized to the plant when he disposed of the rest of his beer in its pot).

“Lemme take that from you,” a sudden movement on his side caused the small glass to be taken from his hand, and then a brown-haired boy downed the drink like it was water. Newt had no idea who he was, but since he saved him from possible vomit-inducing moments, he immediately liked him.

“My saviour,” he grinned once the boy tossed the empty glass back to Minho who barely caught it. The boy smiled back at him, his big, brown eyes warm and honestly really pretty.

“Thomas,” he introduced himself. “I take it you’re the birthday boy. Newt, right?”

“Right,” the blond nodded in agreement. “You here with Ben?”

It was just a guess, but he vaguely remembered Ben mentioned something about bringing friends over and Newt didn’t mind. The more people present, the easier would it be for him to disappear at some point to avoid being cornered with other alcoholic beverages.

“Yep,” Thomas nodded with a cute smile. Newt wondered if he was already at least a little drunk to be so easily charmed. “I know I should have brought a gift, since it’s your b-day and all, but I kinda came empty handed. Sorry about that.”

“Preposterous,” Newt faked a shock, hand on his chest and laughter bubbling in his throat, but Thomas was already fishing through his pockets as if he was searching for something to give, and that made him laugh for real. “It’s fine, Tommy. You saved me from alcohol poisoning, you have a free pass.”

“That’s lame though,” Thomas objected unhappily and then finally found his phone in his back pocket, looking at Newt expectantly. “Can I at least get your number? I swear I will make it up to you.”

Normally Newt would argue he didn’t need anything, for real, don’t sweat it, but the more he was looking into Thomas’ eyes, the more his common sense refused to work, and caving in was so, so easy.

“Sweet,” Thomas smiled happily when he saved the contact and then slung his arm around Newt’s shoulders, leaned close and took a quick photo of them both on his phone. “You won’t regret it.”

“I know I won’t,” Newt said, and he meant it.

***

He woke up with his head painfully pounding, like he slept too long or too short. In a moment of confusion of his whereabouts one glance across the empty but messy living room from yesterday’s festivities gave him the answer he sought – he was in hell and it smelled like pancakes.

He gingerly sat up, analysing the situation carefully, until his eyes stopped at the clock showing 12:04 and Newt refused to believe them. He couldn’t have possibly slept till noon, right? Thomas was playing a prank at him by rewinding the clock or something, there was simply no way. He usually woke up at 7, if he really had a deficit then 9 the latest and felt guilty about it. Twelve sounded like a bad joke.

Then again, his body was so sore it made sense. He had a crick in his neck, his legs felt wooden and stiff and there were creases from the couch everywhere on his naked skin. He had a soft, fluffy blanket draped around his body he didn’t remember even seeing yesterday but was grateful for anyway.

“Fuck,” he breathed out in mortification. “What am I even doing?”

“Having a zombie march, I’d say,” a voice interrupted his inner freak out mercilessly and he turned around too fast for his poor head to comprehend and world spun for a moment. “Thought you died or something, geez. Since when you sleep so long?”

Thomas was slowly walking towards him with a tray, trying to balance the cups with coffee on it, and once he successfully set it down, there was only a small puddle under one, so still a success. He brought pancakes and muffins Anna baked and Newt didn’t feel like his appetite was up to this.

“I dunno,” the blond rubbed his eyes sleepily. “I guess I wasn’t really sleeping as much these past few days…”

“Your back must hate you though,” Thomas glanced at the sofa pointedly. “Only sitting for too long on this torture device is painful.”

“Eh,” Newt shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”

“Well, you look like shit, so not much worse,” Thomas didn’t spare him, smirking at Newt’s apparently dishevelled appearance and he just flipped him off.

“Have a pancake, you’ll feel better,” Thomas pushed the tray closer.

“Maybe later,” Newt untangled himself from the blanked instead. “I need a bath.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

Newt mentally slapped Thomas so hard his face landed in the pancake cushion. In reality he just scoffed and wobbled out of the living room at the sound of his ex’ snickering.

***

Nobody really commented on Newt’s faux pas of passing out on the couch until it was time for lunch, but they did comment on his food habits (or better on having none). He barely ever ate breakfast in the morning, so he didn’t eat the fluffy pancakes, or the muffins Thomas brought him, but he did drink the coffee. Before he could even properly digest that Anna was already serving lunch and he had no way how to wiggle himself out of that one.

The rest of the day passed like a blur and when the evening came Anna was chasing him to the bed the first moment he yawned.

“You’re not going to ruin your back on this monstrosity!” she was pushing him up the stairs with Thomas behind her, laughing at them. “I don’t understand how we didn’t buy a new one yet, but now we have to, or you’d wreck yourself on it!”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Newt tried to argue, but she was having none of it and finally stopped in front of Thomas’ room, which… was an obvious choice, but Newt felt his blood running cold at the sight of the familiar area.

“I prepared clean towels and everything,” she pointed at a fluffy pile on Thomas’ desk. “Good night!”

“Yeah…” the blond barely got that out and she was already leaving, calling to others downstairs to help her choose a new couch so she could immediately order it online.

“Well, at least we’ll get rid of that relic,” Thomas commented while entering the bedroom as well, all smiles like he didn’t realize there was one bed, them broken up and Newt’s absolute horror.

“We’re not sleeping in the same bed, are we,” Newt ignored him with eyes fixed at the lodging in the room and Thomas crossed his arms on his chest, his lips in a wide grin.

“What, I clearly remember you saying there is nothing embarrassing about me anymore, since you heard me fart and all.”

“Oh god, shut up,” Newt wished his words were a spell and came true, but of course they didn’t work on Thomas, since he started laughing like a hyena. Anna naturally would let them both sleep in Thomas’ room, it was an obvious choice, but he sure hated it.

Thomas’ room was the same as Newt remembered it, but it made sense, since Thomas had his own place in the city for years. His family had no reason to change it, let it be the queen-sized bed, the blue-ish walls and sleek black furniture hugging the place. It had no sofa, which was the core of the problem for one of them and Newt’s regret of saying yes returned in full force.

“It’s not like it’s a small bed,” Thomas commented matter-of-factly once he had his fill of fun and sat at the edge of the incriminated furniture, obviously taunting him.

“It’s not like I care,” Newt bit out and circled the bed in disdain. “Sleep on the floor for what I care.”

“But it’s my bed,” Thomas argued with badly concealed glee. Newt guessed it was because now he could make fun of him now, which must have made him feel good after being a target of little quips from his family for two days. “If you don’t like me in it, you go sleep on the floor.”

“I’m a guest in here,” Newt crossed his arms on his chest. “Don’t you have any manners? Not to mention you owe me for coming here and playing your lying game.”

“It has nothing to do with manners or me owing you, you’re just being a stubborn ass as always,” Thomas corrected him and clearly didn’t feel like being merciful, especially when he just flopped onto the mattress and looked at Newt expectantly. “So, let’s calm down and get some sleep. I promise I won’t attack you until you’re awake again.”

“Shut up, jerk face,” Newt barked at him and grabbed the towel Anna left there, turning to leave for the bathroom, definitely not running away. “As if I’d bloody let you.”

“Mhmmm.” Thomas’ face was grinning, and Newt wanted to set his guts on fire.

Goddamn, fuck this all.

***

Of course Thomas already laid under the covers, one arm under his head, other holding his phone and leisurely scrolling through it. The room was bathing in darkness, outside of the small lamp on the bedside table. Newt still remember that lamp from years ago, and how they almost broke it when Newt accidentally knocked it over when they were having sex… here… okay, that particular memory really didn’t need to resurface right now.

“I know right,” Thomas suddenly spoke, looking at Newt pointedly. “I was surprised that thing still works too. Got banged so badly.”

“Hmm…”

“Not the only thing that got banged though,” of course the fucker had to add, and Newt tossed his shirt he was holding at him. Only got small laugh in response and then his shirt got dropped carelessly on the floor, left crumpled there like trash. Newt wanted to kick Thomas’ ass so bad he almost reached for his whole bag to hit him with it.

“Going to stand there whole night?” Thomas was acting smugly because he had an upper hand for now, the blond knew the tactics very well. Just milking the moment until one of them snap, he sure hadn’t changed. Newt seriously considered to just leave and sleep in the car if he had to.

“Are you going to be this insufferable the whole week?” he seethed, and Thomas shrugged.

“Define insufferable. Don’t feel like I am any of that.”

“Alright, then I’ll leave tomorrow,” Newt countered him, because he was honestly too tired already and couldn’t think of anything that would make Thomas to fall from his high horse for just one second. Or just show some understanding, because the moment they got in his room he made sure to make Newt as uncomfortable as possible. “You can tell your parents whatever you want, I don’t care.”

“Are you seriously throwing a tantrum over us sleeping in one bed?” Thomas sat up while putting his phone away and he had this old Star Wars shirt Newt got him for his 20th birthday and it was like a punch in his gut.

“Yes,” Newt just said and the warmth from the bath was slowly dissipating from his body, leaving him chilled and miserable.

“We slept together for 7 years,” Thomas objected with a small frown. “It’s not like you don’t know me. Or how I sleep.”

“It’s not like it matters in this situation.”

“I told you I won’t do anything,” another argument and Newt shook his head. He wasn’t even worried he would try anything; they were way past that phase anyway. It was just… so uncomfortable. “Jesus, Newt, please be reasonable. It’s cold, you’re shivering like a wet dog over there, I have perfectly normal, warm bed and we won’t even be touching. I don’t know what kind of block you have in your head, but can you just let it go for tonight and come here before you catch a cold and blame it on me too?”

“I-,” Newt couldn’t even start when a soft knock stopped him mid speech and the door opened few seconds later with Anna between them, smiling. Probably chaperoning, he would guess if he had a coherent thought.

“Just wanted to ask if you want chicken or steak for tomorrow lunch,” she chirped and Newt could almost see the loading screen in front of his eyes, for how much he couldn’t comprehend the sudden topic change.

“Go lie down, you’ll freeze out here,” she immediately noticed him standing there barefooted and pushed him gently towards the bed. “Do you want another blanket? I know you’re always cold. Thomas brought the fluffy one downstairs yesterday, should I fetch it?”

“It’s fine, I have two in here already,” Thomas interjected immediately and before Newt could react anyhow, Thomas reached for his hand and pulled him onto the mattress. “Will warm him up if that wouldn’t be enough.”

“Just try to be quiet, will you,” Anna seized them both in disapproving stare and Newt felt sick in his stomach. “So what. Chicken or steak?”

“I vote for steaks!” Thomas immediately shot out and Newt still didn’t understand what was even important about food in this situation, so he just nodded dumbly, and then Anna was leaving with good night and disappeared behind the door again, plunging the room into silence.

He could hear Thomas’ breathing close to his own and finally understood he lost this fight without much of a battle happening.

“Can we sleep now?” he heard Thomas ask, so he just slinked under covers and turned his back towards the man, feeling vulnerable and stupid at the same time.

***

They didn’t talk about the night. They didn’t really talk at all during the day, since when Newt woke up, Thomas was already gone, and Hannah mentioned something about him and his dad leaving early in the morning for whatever reason.

Newt hated how relieved he felt.

He spent most of the day with Anna making lunch and dodging questions about him and Thomas’ breakup and reconciliation. Anna didn’t pry as much as he feared she would, but she obviously wanted to know what happened three years ago and he had no nice answer for her, so he just kept it vague.

We stopped talking to each other properly.

We felt like we needed a break.

No, there was no bad blood between us, really. Absolutely no arguments that would cut too deep, I assure you. We just needed some time. We’re back together now after all, right.

The lies twisted so painfully on his tongue he was grateful when Thomas finally got back at 4PM and Anna’s attention turned to him instead. When the day progressed, Brian (Thomas’ dad) sat them all in the living room in the evening and opened his favourite bottle of whiskey he kept for special occasions.

They lit up fire in the fireplace and Anna brought over snacks, and just sitting there and chilling felt soothing to Newt’s guiltiness eating him up from within.

“We just sealed the deal with a new partner today,” Brian said in a booming voice when he was pouring a glass to Newt who was sincerely relieved his special occasion wasn’t Thomas and him dating again. Because that sure would send him out of the room quick, he could handle only that much before snapping.

“That’s fantastic,” he gingerly accepted the glass and watched Thomas doing to same when offered, wondering if he could somehow dump his own drink into his glass without being suspicious. They sat too wide apart though, with Thomas between his parents and Newt felt the gap deeply.

“That’s right! It means more work, but it’s going to be worth it!” Brian nodded happily and poured glass to Anna as well. When Hannah came with her own, he shooed at her to get juice instead, at which she pouted. “We were dealing with them on and off for about a year, so when they agreed to be a permanent supplier, it’s gonna make a difference.”

“You should invite the CEO for dinner,” Anna added to it and Brian immediately agreed. “But for now, cheers!”

Newt smiled and raised his glass as well, but his throat already hated it in advance. Once he sipped the wood-scented drink, he forced himself to remain passive and not make a disgusted face that was forcing its way up, grateful Anna and Brian were too busy planning what food to choose for the business dinner.

“Oh my god, can you stop shouting in my ear?” Thomas suddenly stood up when his dad leaned over him to his mum for umpteenth time. “Go sit next to her! Geez. I’m not a cushion you can bulldozer over.”

Brian laughed and pushed himself towards his wife on Thomas’ spot, which left Thomas to sit next to Newt with an unceremonious plop.

“I thought maybe cream cake for dessert?” Anna was brainstorming loudly in meantime. “Right, Newt? You always liked the cake.”

“Oh yeah, loved it,” Newt quickly switched his attention to her from Thomas’ sudden warmth next to him. “Think it’s a great idea for the dessert.”

“See!” Anna beamed at Brian happily and Newt flinched when his glass got bumped suddenly and he almost dropped it before he realized it was Thomas’ own glass touching it now.

“Pour some over,” he mumbled towards the blond quietly. “Before they notice and start pestering you about quality of well-aged alcohol.”

“Thanks…” he piped gratefully and hastily splashed most of his glass’ contents away. He noticed Hannah was looking at them, but she only rolled her eyes and started arguing with the parents that beef was no better than pork for the main dish.

“She’d drink it instead if she had a chance,” Thomas whispered towards him. “Going to be a fucking alcoholic before she reaches twenty.”

“Weren’t you the same though,” Newt objected automatically, and Thomas sipped his now almost full glass with a smirk.

“Never minded the taste, yeah,” he shrugged while licking his lips. Newt would believe from his expression the drink tasted good, if he didn’t know better. “I still like beer more though. This can easily knock me out of my socks if I’m not careful.”

“Mm.”

“You slept well?”

Newt stiffed at the question, as he expected he would if Thomas was going to breach it, and then forced his body to relax again while gripping his almost empty glass firmly.

“Fine,” he only uttered.

“Are we going to have a problem again tonight then or is it fine?” he heard Thomas asking in low voice and refused to meet his eyes. The night was alright, he slept more or less okay too, but that didn’t pose a problem in the first place, and Thomas knew it. Newt couldn’t say if it was Thomas’ way of being petty or getting revenge, but it sure bothered Newt like a thorn in his side.

“Can’t possibly kick you off, when your mum likes to check up on us,” he mumbled with a quick glance towards Anna, still in heated debate over food with the rest of the family. “So let’s pretend it’s fine.”

“I’m not pretending anything,” Thomas scoffed. “I don’t mind sharing a bed. It’s not like you’re a stranger.”

“Sure.”

“Hmm,” Thomas let out and then moved again, lifting his legs and deposited them rudely on Newt’s lap while leaning against the side of his dad who barely even noticed.

“Sure then,” he was grinning when Newt shot him a glare. “Love of my life.”

“I swear I’ll murder you,” Newt gritted through his teeth and refused to acknowledge how his heart thumped when Thomas smiled at him like he just said something overly sweet.

“Looking forward to it,” the brunet responded instead while sipping their shared drink and Newt twisted his big toe in revenge. Sadly, it didn’t have much of an effect.

***

“What the fuck happened to you over those years, jesus fuck!” If anybody asked, Newt didn’t sound like a naggy wife scolding her husband, no sir. “You can’t hold your liquor for shit!”

“Whaaa-,” Thomas’ attempt to sound offended interrupted a loud burp and then fit of laughter, all that when he was plastered over Newt’s back who was unceremoniously dragging him back to his room.

“If you throw up over my back, you’re dead,” he warned the drunkard coldly and Thomas let out hehehe but didn’t deny it. Newt suspected him he could walk just fine but wanted to be as obnoxious as possible, so Newt would have to take care of him in front of his amused parents who left them to it. Newt would be much happier if Thomas’ dad would toss his son to the bed one armed, because he definitely could, and wouldn’t leave Newt to fight with the deadweight all alone, but then again maybe it was for the best.

True enough, Thomas had in total of four and half glasses full of whiskey, even though Brian laughed at him to get drunk after three shots. Naturally didn’t know every time he poured Newt a fresh batch, even though Newt tried to tell him no thanks, he secretly dumped it into Thomas’ glass who drank it, just to get refilled from Brian again as well, and that went until the bottle was empty and Thomas started giggling.

Which led them to the situation at hand – with Newt dragging his ex up the stairs and to his room – their room – while swearing like a sailor, and then just dumping him onto the bed like a sack of potatoes where Thomas landed with soft oof.

“Why’s the room sp’nning…?” he heard the muffled question shortly after, looking at Thomas’ boneless form of a dead drunk with his face half buried in covers. “Make it stooop~.”

“You feel like barfing?” he asked instead of reacting to the drunk observation and Thomas groaned, then tried to push himself up, just to fail miserably. He tried two more times until he realized he really couldn’t get up because his arms wouldn’t support him, and just had to worm his way up to the pillow by crawling. Which was almost painful to watch, honestly.

“Neeeewt.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” the blond buried his face to his hands until another whine of his name came and he walked to the bed and pushed Thomas on his back instead. That got him a sloppy grin in return in a drunk haze.

“Hi,” the drunkard slurred. “How’re ya?”

“Sucky,” Newt answered while crossing his arms on his chest.

“Oh noooo…” another whine. “Whyyy?”

“Have to take care of one smashed idiot,” Newt nudged Thomas’ side with his knee, earning another giggle. He couldn’t say he had experience with drunk Thomas – or at least with this much drunk Thomas. If he ever got inebriated enough to be considered wasted, he just passed out, usually. But today’s drunk Thomas sure had some annoying stamina and kept himself awake for too long.

“I’ll protect you from ‘im,” Thomas managed to reach out with his hand, grabbing at Newt’s sweater. “C’me to the bed.”

“I think you need a bucket first,” Newt let him pawn his sweater with a sigh.

“Mkay.” The hand on his sweater stayed, grabbing randomly, until it dropped to Newt’s thigh where it lightly squeezed, and Thomas let an appraising hum. “You got thinner.”

“It’s just your imagination,” Newt pushed the hand away and it bounced back onto the mattress. “Get changed, I’ll be right back.”

“Nooo…”

He ignored the whine and left the bedroom with a lump in his throat. Drunk Thomas could be bad for his conscience.

***

He got back half an hour later, after a bath and finding a bucket he could deposit at the edge of the bed, in hope Thomas didn’t manage to throw up in meantime. He found him sleeping sprawled over the mattress, right in the middle, still in the same clothes and smelling like a liquor store. There was no barf anywhere at least.

“Sweet,” he sighed while putting the bucket near Thomas’ possible trajectory of his head if he felt like bending over and vomiting. “Glad we had this talk about sleeping together, huh.”

He slowly crawled onto the bed, careful not to wake Thomas up (though judging by his occasional snores it wasn’t happening) and slid under the blanket as much as Thomas’ weight allowed him.

In hindsight… there was no way he could be mad at him anyway, for today. No matter how drunk the man got, he still remembered how Newt didn’t like alcohol and Newt hated how it warmed his jaded heart.

He fell asleep eventually, dreaming of grabby hands and sad smiles.

***

“Your mum is going to hear us, you ass!”

“Don’t care.”

“Tommy!”

No response, only hot lips on his neck, licking and biting and pampering it with kisses and Newt just remained pinned against the door of Thomas’ room, taking the weight of his boyfriend against his body and roaming hands grabbing at his butt and then traveling to his thigh, hiking it up to settle against Thomas’s hip. His heart was beating so loud he couldn’t hear anything else, just thump thump thump of his blood roaring, and Thomas’s sweet nothings he was murmuring to Newt’s ear in a rough voice.

“I want you so much,” Thomas whispered when unbuckling Newt’s pants, sliding his hand under them against hot, naked skin, and Newt couldn’t hold back a moan, he just needed him closer, he needed to kiss him, to touch him, to get him inside-

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Thomas bit out, voice strained, and Newt let him to lift him up and carry him towards the bed, their lips meeting in a messy, frantic kiss. It was painful, it was rushed, but it was what Newt needed, the brutal strength of Thomas’ body pushing into him and his own breathy moans coming out when their lips parted, and he heard a dull thud at some point when he was trying to hold onto the bedpost once Thomas thrusted into him so strong it made him see stars, but he didn’t care about anything else but pleasure and pain and adoration he felt when he was with him-

Newt woke up with a start, his body hot and aroused, and he felt on fire and caged and painfully hard. He could barely catch a breath when he noticed arms slung possessively around his torso and waist pushing him insistently against warm body behind him, waking up all his senses one by one like Christmas lights.

It took him a moment, the initial confusion clearing like a fog from his mind, making him realize Thomas was cuddling him from behind, one of his hands got under Newt’s shirt and was spread across his naked belly possessively.

“Shit,” he couldn’t stop himself from cursing and attempted to disentangle, but it only made Thomas to clutch to him harder, like a defence mechanism, unwilling to let go. He tried to push away one of the arms holding him, but Thomas slung a leg over his hips in response, trapping him even more.

“Don’t leave,” a sleepy voice sliced the silence and Newt stiffened once he felt hot lips on the back of his neck, mouthing there persistently.

“Thomas-.” He tried to turn around but couldn’t move an inch and Thomas bit down slightly, sending shivers down Newt’s spine.

“Mmm…” he heard the hum, and then the tense weight relaxed once Thomas fell asleep again, and Newt didn’t dare to move anymore.

It was going to be a long night and Newt refused to acknowledge the little voice in the back of his head screaming for relief by Thomas’ hand.

#newtmas #tmr #the maze runner #Last Resort series #newmas

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ashestoashesjc · 4 years ago

Text

A Necromancer & His Zombie Boyfriend On A Couple's Retreat

Short Story 1/2/(3)/4/5/6/7/8/9/10

"RrRRrrrr... grrr? <Hey, uh, babe... seen my arm anywhere?>" rang Sett's voice throughout their cigar box of a house as he rummaged through closets, opened cabinets, overturned couch cushions.

Shutting and latching the front door behind him, Ulrick began flipping through the stack of envelopes clutched in his right hand. "Huh? Oh…”

“Okay, so… don’t get mad,” Ulrick began, as meekly and guilt-tinged as one can make a shout. “But... there was this huge, I mean HUGE silverfish…”

“GRrrr! Rrrrr. <Dude! Not cool,>” could be heard as Sett stomped his way to the foyer.

“I know! I’m sorry! I’m weak!” moaned Ulrick.

Sett sighed as he entered the cove and laid his single remaining hand on Ulrick’s left shoulder, the other sleeve draped flaccidly at his side. “Grrrr. <Well, yeah.>” he said. Ulrick snickered.

“You know, having your boyfriend kill a bug for you is exceedingly normal,” Ulrick said, separating the bills from the letters that weren’t bills. There were very few that weren’t bills. “Almost conventional.”

“Rrr. <True,>” Sett replied. “Rggrrrr. <Probably while the arm’s still attached, though.>”

“A mere quibble.”

“Rrrrgrrr? <So, where is it now?>” Sett asked.

“Ugh. Still getting cozy with the silverfish, I’d imagine,” Ulrick admitted, guilt creeping back into his voice. He covered his eyes with his free hand and shuddered. “In… the shower.”

Sett sucked air through his teeth in a compassion-filled cringe.

“Yeah,” Ulrick sighed, resigned to his trauma.

“Grrrr. <Don’t worry,>” said Sett. “Rraarr. <I got it.>”

Ulrick slid his hand down his face with a grateful groan. “God, I love you.” Sett pulled him forward by his collar and pecked his forehead.

Continuing to sort through the mail, Ulrick came to a red envelope and, seeing it addressed to Sett, handed it over. “Looks important.”

Confusion clouded Sett’s eyes for the first few, slow moments spent undoing the envelope’s seal flap, until suddenly, a surge of realization like lightning drove him to violently tear the crimson paper away.

As he scanned the contents of the letter contained within, words failing to do his emotional state justice, Sett began to fist pump wildly, God help anyone in the flight path of his singular elbow. Ulrick looked on in entranced bewilderment.

“Was there itching powder in that envelope?” asked Ulrick.

Sett shoved the creased letter in Ulrick’s face, his manic energy not yet dissipated. Ulrick took it and held it out at arm’s length until his eyes brought the words into focus.

“A couple’s retreat?” he wondered aloud, lowering the paper enough to peer over the top at Sett.

“Grrgrrrr. <An all-expenses paid couple’s retreat.> Rrrrrr. <At a swanky resort.> GrrrrRr. <Complete with water skis.>”

“This is from a contest?” he asked, rotating and inspecting the sheet. “When did we enter a contest?”

“Rrggrrrr? <You know those entry slips we’re getting in the post all the time?>”

“The ones I’m always throwing away? I’m familiar.”

“RrrRrrrrr ggrrrr. <Well, your aim could use some work, because some of them wind up in the mailbox,>” said Sett, with a shrug.

The sound that next filled the room, colored with exasperated mirth, was one Sett was used to Ulrick making, though one that never stopped bringing a flush of heat to the place where his heart used to be.

He grabbed Ulrick by the hips and the two began to sway back and forth. “Rrrrrr. <Just imagine it,>” he purred dreamily. “GrrrRRrrrr rrrrRrrr grrr...arrrr? <Massages, rock-climbing, a luau. And… did I mention waterskiing?>”

Swaying still, Ulrick looked up with his head cocked. "I've... never heard you mention waterskiing before."

"GrrRrrrrrr. <I enjoy a lot of things I don't talk about.> Rgrrrrgrrr. <Like country music, or bad chick lit,>" Sett said before twirling and dipping Ulrick in a blur. "Rraarrrr. <I'm a multi-layered zombie.>"

Breaking clumsily away from the songless dance and squeezing the bridge of his nose, Ulrick set down the remainder of the mail on the side table by the entrance and looked his boyfriend over. “It’s totally free?”

“Grrarrr. <It’s totally free,>” confirmed Sett.

Ulrick raised an eyebrow. “No catch?”

“Rrr… <Well…>”

“And streeetch! That’s right! Streeetch!”

At the front of Meadow Grove Resort’s famed yoga studio balanced - one foot planted on the ground, the other hooked deftly behind her neck - Chrysanthemum Smith, a remarkably limber 60-year-old instructor, urging her out-of-shape contest winning students to achieve the same feats of flexibility.

All around Ulrick and Sett, a pretzel factory’s soon-to-be-discarded collection of heinous, gnarly undesirables had been given life in the form of sweaty middle Americans.

That pretzels went through a less agonizing process being baked at 500 degrees was a fact Ulrick was both confident in and envious of. His legs were angled in a way he was sure he’d feel for weeks to come.

Sett, on the other hand, had apparently been a contortionist in a past life, the way he bent himself into poses, well, a pretzel would gawk at, holding each position stoically before moving gracefully on to the next. It also helped that he couldn’t feel what would leave most tendons shredded rags.

Ulrick gave up the pursuit of dislocating his pelvis and instead went to poke Sett in the cheek. Through his mask, Sett made a chomping motion at the finger, though remained otherwise totally still. "Okay, but this kind of bites, right?" Ulrick signed.

"A little. And not in the fun way," Sett signed back.

On a pair of blue, rubber mats to their left were two women - one in a biker's jacket and tattered, patched jeans, short red hair tied into a haphazard ponytail; the other a dark woman donning a shaved head, flower-patterned maxi dress, and combat boots - the former of whom suddenly grabbed Ulrick's attention with a nod.

"You're telling me," she signed.

And in an instant, they were no longer alone in the hazy, secluded sphere that made their reality.

So taken aback was he that he blurted aloud, "You sign?"

The yoga instructor shushed him from her place at the head of the wide room, leading him to duck down sheepishly. With the forced inclusion of an overly casual air, he said more than asked, "You sign."

"Oh, yeah," the woman chuckled gruffly. "Mom's Deaf."

Taking a sudden interest in the conversation, Sett's head swiveled to the leather jacket-clad woman. "Shit yeah!" he signed with fervor, eliciting a harsh snort from the woman. The instructor's head whipped around to glare her way, but went ignored.

Sett's hands jumbled for a moment before he continued. "I mean, I'm sure that must have been very difficult for your family and--"

She gave a dismissive wave of the hand. "Nah, don't worry about it. She's capital 'D' Deaf. A congenital thing. Whole family's been signing forever."

Her wife - Jen, they later learned - chimed in with, "Di does it at home, too. She's taught me half the lyrics to Boys for Pele."

"Wow!" Ulrick said with teeth-clenching enthusiasm. "That's so great! Isn't that so great, Sett?"

The mask did nothing to conceal Sett's raised, beaming features. "That's so great!" he signed.

"I'm sorry!" bellowed the lithe yogi, shattering all delusions of serenity. "Am I boring you?"

Several overlapping voices came to the general consensus of "Christ, yes."

One of the husbands, portly and somewhat resembling the famously affable capybara, asked, somewhat less affably, why they were being stretched into taffy when they should be outside taking one-on-one lessons with the beach volleyball instructor. He was joined by a few surly “yeah!”s.

They were met with an unimpressed crossing of the arms. Though it should be noted Smith’s foot was still being held comfortably behind her head.

"I would suggest, in the future, that you more closely scrutinize contest entries," Yogi Smith advised in as calm a manner as it seemed she could now manage, though with an unmistakable edge to her voice. "In order to partake in our facility’s more... physically involved activities, you’ll first need to align and cleanse your mental, emotional, and spiritual energies.”

This provoked a studio-wide groan, with the exclusion of Jen, who seemed just eager enough to cancel out the cloud of grim impatience encircling her.

“Unless, of course,” Smith said, shifting poses to something favoring the letter ‘G’, “you’d prefer to construct your own schedules. In which case, a full price admission to Meadow Grove Resort remains available.”

She sleekly extended her right leg, pointing its foot pin-straight toward the sliding studio doors. “Don’t, as the masters of yore were wont to say, let the door hit ya.”

When no one moved and the room went quiet enough to hear an acupuncture needle drop, Smith resumed a standing position and bowed three times to each division of the studio. “Namaste. Namaste. Namaste.”

Chrysanthemum Smith had in no way undersold how ‘aligned and cleansed’ couple’s therapy and its airings of dirty laundry and subsequent ferocious dissolutions of decades of marriage; couple’s pottery, the same thing but with clay vases; and couple’s finger-painting, a bonding exercise in shared humiliation, would make their minds, emotions, and souls through sheer gut-rending hilarity.

Ulrick almost didn’t want to stop watching people who, hours ago, seemed all confidence and bravado, now being brought to tears by an instructor’s criticism of their macaroni art lacking ‘depth.’

But their confinement was over and they were free to roam the grounds as they saw fit and Sett, without even feigning to look for a map of the resort, made a beeline for the largest body of water (and the largest gathering of humans) he could sniff. Ulrick was still surprised at times by how agile Sett could be on his feet when on the hunt for blood - or recreational watersports - and struggled to keep up.

Their long-awaited waterskiing adventure began almost as soon as they arrived at the lakeside, the instructor needing a volunteer at that instant to man the skis while he lectured another guest on the controls of the boat. At nearly a head taller than anyone else present, Sett didn’t need much more than a raised hand to stand out.

Things were going great; Sett mounted on skis as long as he was tall, the boat revving greedily for take off. At Sett’s thumbs up, the runabout hammered off in a thunderous roar. And then, all at once, things were going wrong.

The envisioned majesty of skimming the motionless calm of the crystal river was halted abruptly with a leaden Sett stumbling mid-lake in his skis, trying and failing to correct himself, going feet-over-head, and sinking like an anchor to the agitated silt of the riverbed below.

Ulrick, though he jumped with concern at the first hint of a misstep, expected a brief swim back, perhaps slowed a bit - but not much - by Sett's stoney limbs. He’d been the star diver of his local swimming hole as a teen and still maintained some of the underwater dexterity, though nowadays tended to lurk the floors of bodies of water like a carnivorous bottom-feeder; eating habits included.

But then a few minutes passed, and nothing. A lifeguard and two of the more experienced swimmers among the guests plunged into the river and searched for fifteen minutes, cracking the surface now and again for a gulp of air, all to no avail. The water was too cloudy with sediment to see past a certain depth, and the orange-purples of dusk were beginning to settle in. They'd need to return in the morning with a diving team.

It'd now been forty-five minutes, and three of the resort’s other guests were consoling Ulrick, one herself on the verge of waterworks. They'd just witnessed a man - someone's significant other - torn tragically from life's teat, and in front of the man he loved, no less.

Ulrick, for his part, was positively miffed.

"When I get my hands on him..." Ulrick started, before one of the grievers tossed him a teary-eyed questioning look. "Er, that is... would that I could only put my hands on him... again..." he corrected.

Just as Ulrick had begun mentally reviewing the basics of the Arts of Throttling, a movement, barely noticeable, shook the surface of the lake. Then bubbles, then the full break of the water as a head rose into view. Then the screams of onlookers as, in the fading light, a ghastly lake monster began its murderous approach. Then screams of a different kind as people began to make the connection proper. Then there was weeping, fainting, more than one declaration of faith renewed. It was a miracle!

Later, after insistences for medical attention were politely but firmly refused and the religious stragglers begging for just a smell of Sett’s waterlogged clothes were shooed away, Ulrick asked why he waited so long to resurface, to which Sett said, "GrrrrRRrr. <Well, at first I was just sort of embarrassed.> RrrrrrrGrrrRrrr? <Then I thought, "How often do these people see miracles?>"

"Oh, sure," groaned Ulrick. "A man comes out of a lake after half an hour and it's a miracle. A man comes out of a grave after a few months and it's "Grab the torches and pitchforks, everyone!""

"Rrrr. <Babe.>"

Ulrick gave a pouty grumble. "I'm just saying. One's a little more miraculous, is all."

Sett pulled Ulrick's head into his chest and stroked his hair. "GrrrRrrrRrrr. <Shh, I know, dude, I know.>" His heavy, soaked clothes and lack of body heat didn't chill Ulrick as much as they should have, and though a fine coating of sand covering him from head to toe gritted against Ulrick's cheek, it only made Ulrick rub his face in rebelliously.

"Okay," Ulrick said, resting his fists on Sett's chest and gazing up into his eyes. "What's the next activity? I think we’re... due-au for a luau?" The moment the words left his lips, his face collapsed into disgusted regret.

“Rgrrr... <Actually…>” Sett said, wrenching off his mask and shaking the excess water from his hair, teasing a blush out of Ulrick. “GgrrrRrrrr? <Doesn’t watching the stars by the lake sound pretty relaxing?>”

Ulrick grinned and took a seat on the shoreline, running his hands through the tufts of ryegrass stretching out in waves around him. He tapped a spot to his right and Sett, half-cocked smile in tow, came lumbering over to take it.

Hours flurried past, changing nothing about the image of the intimately silent pair but the number of stark white pinpricks in the sky they beheld.

They threatened to sit silently basking in each other forever.

And then Sett said, “GRrrrrgrrr, rrgrrr, graargrr. <So, Diane and Jen gave me their number, and they want to plan an outing.>”

Unease shot through Ulrick’s veins, but he held his tongue in search of the correct words. “O-oh?”

“Grrr? Rrgrrrrr. <Isn’t that cool? People want to spend time with us,>” said Sett, ensorcelled with the twinkle of every new star. “Rrrrr. <With me.>”

“That might be…” began Ulrick, before noticing the glimmer in Sett’s eyes and faint lift at the corners of his mouth as he stared up towards a great unknown. He sighed. “It’s going to be great.”

Sett rested his hand on Ulrick’s, their fingers interlocking. He smiled, and the two gazed into an ever-darkening firmament, speckled with a thousand stars and a thousand futures.

#A Necromancer & His Zombie Boyfriend #short stories #supernatural #mlm #wlw #queer #series #A Necromance #original #fiction

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sombreboy · 4 years ago

Text

Love Maze »20

Previous » Next Series Masterlist ▎ 18+ ▎ pairing: Taehyung x Jungkook ▎ genre: School AU, crack humor, smut, angst, ETL, slow burn, fluff. ▎ word count: 11.9k ▎ ch.warnings: profanity, mentions of hospitals, side character yandere themes, graphic desc. of violence, mentions of blood, some angst :( , but also tooth rotting fluff, jealousy, smut, dom!tae, sub!koo, rimjob, fingering, oral/mouthfucking, wall fucking (LUBE IS IMPORTANT THIS IS JUST FICTION LMAO)

Co-writer: @velvetwicebang ♡♡♡

Jungkook had insisted on getting them a cab for the way home, and he was sure it took almost ten minutes of constant back and forth bantering between the two before he let Taehyung have his way of walking instead. He desperately needed the exercise, it seemed, so the younger eventually caved in, keeping a decently slow pace as he held his boyfriend's hand all the way home. More often than not, he'd glance over and catch Tae doing the same, only to be greeted by the boxy smile he knew too well. Fuck, the way Jungkook loves the guy...

"And we're home." Jungkook chimed as he closed the apartment door behind them before kicking off his shoes. He still held onto Tae's hand, letting the elder take the environment back in. It was the same as it had always been. But a bit messier... he honestly hadn't spent much time at his own apartment for the past weeks, as he would more often than not end up at Jisoo's.

Taehyung was instantly met with the comforting smell of Jungkook’s mild laundry detergent, his school bag carelessly littered on the ground, the bright sunlight peeking in through the windows... And, the vase of mismatched flowers..? He didn’t expect Jungkook to keep them— after everything that happened, that is. They’ve lost a significant amount of their bright color, yet they still managed to look beautiful. Just like his boyfriend, who had visibly lost a good amount of sleep. Now with the sun’s natural light, the faint eye bags were clear on the younger.... Had he thanked Kook for staying at the hospital until nearly three in the morning? “And we’re home.” Taehyung softly repeated, fingers having yet to part from the younger’s whilst he led them towards the couch. He urged Jungkook to sit down, only for him to take a seat on the latter’s lap. His arms circled around Kook’s neck, gaze twinkling with overpowering fondness as he stared down at him. “Hey, dumbass..” Taehyung smiled. “I love you. Thanks for waiting at the hospital until.. really late at night..” The elder shrugged his shoulders. “Dunno if I thanked you for that yet.” With the most gentle of touches, the pads of Tae’s warm thumbs brushed the delicate skin underneath Jungkook's eyes, wishing it could erase the obvious signs of fatigue.

Jungkook's hands settled to grasp Tae's slim waist, looking up at him with his dark, doe eyes. He hadn't stopped to really feel the exhaustion in his body until now. Because he hadn't felt like he could relax until he had his boyfriend in his own care-- the only care he trusted truly wanted nothing but the best. "I love you too." He felt his eyes sting a bit from the lack of sleep, leaning his cheek into the palm of Taehyung's hand before kissing it, eyes still admiring the view above. "I'm just happy you're okay...also, you're staying home tomorrow too. Doctors orders." Kook smiled. "but at least you have my PlayStation, and you can text me--" he paused to recollect his memories. "actually, I might need a new phone." He was pretty sure it broke, laying somewhere in the kitchen with a cracked screen.

A defeated, deep groan slipped past Taehyung, who childishly threw his head back in distaste. The elder didn’t know who the hell he was, but he suddenly missed school.. Maybe he simply missed his routine of waiting for Jungkook in the common room, or the taste of crappy breakfast with their friends. Either way, it was trippy. “Kook, I was trying to soften you up so you’d forget..” He pouted, resuming to look down into his boyfriend’s tired eyes. “Why would you need a new phone?” Like the whipped man he was, Taehyung began pressing a trail of innocent kisses all over Jungkook’s face, clueless of the reason.

Jungkook ignored the question, deliberately avoiding it by indulging in the kisses by pressing Tae down on his lap, "Just clumsy." he whispered as he chased the elders lips with his own until he managed to catch them in a sweet kiss, pressing their mouths together with a quiet, content hum. "Are you hungry? I have some delicious, unhealthy instant noodles with your name on it."

Jungkook didn’t need to ask Tae twice, the elder was already on his antsy feet. He’d been craving something other than a side of soggy noodles and rice. Hospital food wasn’t exactly the best, but he remained thankful. If it was up to him, Tae would’ve easily settled for a hefty granola bar. Extending out a hand, he helped pull Kook’s athletic body from off the couch, deeply refusing to admit that his boyfriend was getting a bit harder to carry around. The elder wondered how he’d built so much muscle.. He had to catch up, before Kook got too strong for his own good.

“You’re staring at me..” Taehyung mumbled through a mouthful, looking up from his bowl to stare back at the younger, questioning what he found so eye-catching.

Jungkook stirred his noodles mindlessly as his eyes had been fixed on his boyfriend. The other night, Taehyung's father had said things that kept replaying in his mind on a constant loop, unable to let it go... "The night your dad came to the hospital..." he paused to make sure Tae was keeping up, taking a breath himself as he brought the noodles to his lips, blowing on the steamy food to cool it down. "He said that you'd move away for college..." the thought alone had kook slowly losing his appetite, putting the bowl back down without taking that bite. "what's up with that?" He tried really hard to not sound upset, because he wasn't even sure it was true. There's no way it could be, because if it was.. his boyfriend would tell him, right?

Ah, that..

Taehyung mirrored Jungkook’s on edge pose of sitting, swallowing down his previous bite of food before tucking the bowl aside. Figuratively, not literally. If it was up to him, Tae wouldn’t be having this conversation right now. His boyfriend didn’t seem likely to let it go, however. “My dad wants me to follow in his footsteps, or whatever.” Taehyung sighed. “wants me to study business and work for his company.” The elder didn’t like the silence, where had their sweet moment gone? “There’s this prestigious college in America that he’s got his eyes on. And he’s set on getting me a spot..” Now that he thought about it, the time difference was bound to be a bitch. “I mean, it’s a possibility but nothing has been decided yet.” As much as he was reassuring Kook, he was reassuring himself.

Jungkook didn't know how to feel about this, the uncertainty in Taehyung's voice telling him that he didn't seem too into the idea either... But it was still a possibility. ''Do you want to go?'' Kook asked, the food forgotten as he scooted closer to Tae, their thighs pressing together. ''I..'' He wanted to say that he didn't want his boyfriend to go, but it would be selfish in a sense. Maybe Taehyung did want to. Hell, Koo's never asked what the hell the elder even dreamed of becoming.

“I don’t know what I want.” He was truthful with his response. Tae was in his late teens, he didn’t think anyone his age knew exactly what their sole purpose in life was. And if they did, they’d be glad to know Kim Taehyung envied them. Not knowing what to offer to the world oftentimes took a toll on him. Other than basketball, Tae didn’t think he was good at much else.. Once school turned into an old page, what the hell was he going to tackle next? A cashier at a store? A fast food worker? The elder needed needed some stability in his rollercoaster of a life.

“Maybe I was meant to be a businessman or some shit. I’ll never know if I don’t.. try, I guess.” Taehyung turned to look at his boyfriend, spotting the faint look of sadness in the younger’s expression. “Babe.. whatever happens, we’ll make it work, alright?” His hands cupped Jungkook’s face, craning his neck down to hopefully catch a glimpse of those doe eyes. “We still have time left before I get to really think about any of that.”

Jungkook's shoulders relax a bit at the reassurance, nodding as his cheeks are slightly squished. A faint smile pulled on his pouty lips, reaching to wrap his arms around Taehyung and pull him close, leaning forward to nuzzle his nose into the elders neck, breathing him in. ''Whatever you choose, we'll make it work.'' A selfish part of him hoped that he didn't have to watch his boyfriend leave, though. But that was still a future problem, he didn't need to worry now. Jungkook pulled back after a moment of simply enjoying Tae's touch, his doe eyes admiring how Taehyung already looked so much better than he did at the hospital. ''Sorry for bringing it up-- let's just finish dinner. I'm fucking spent..'' He chuckled, one hand moving up to swipe his thumb across Tae's jaw softly. ''I love you.''

“So I’ve heard..” Taehyung chuckled, leisurely leaning forward to engulf Jungkook’s lips in a slow, devoted kiss. His thumbs caressed over his boyfriend’s silk-like cheeks, noses brushing against one another as he deepened the shared, warm touch between their mouths. A second later, and Tae pulled away. “I love you too,” a big part of him wished he would’ve said it sooner, but Taehyung swore he’d make up for it by reminding Kook every chance he got.

After they finish eating their dinner, they indulge themselves in an anime— Jungkook’s pick. The night flew by with countless of questions on Taehyung’s end,

‘Why did he do that?’

‘What’s gonna happen next?’

‘This anime is making me wanna rip all my fucking hair out— that was a stupid move!’

Yeah, he was one of those people. Once the movie was done, it was time to sleep.

“I missed your bed just as much as I missed you.” The elder spread out his arms and legs on the comforter, laying with only his underwear intact.

"I missed having you in my bed." Jungkook coyly snickered as he sat down at the edge of the bed after discarding his pants, pulling his shirt over his head to carelessly throw it to the floor to join the other fabrics. "Haven't slept much since you weren't in it." He confessed quietly. And it was true. He'd never rocked eye bags the way he did until they were broken up, and he wasn't the usual chirpy morning person since then either. Kook crawled onto the bed, hovering on top of Taehyung to give his face several playful kisses, the muscles in his arms flexing as he was practically doing a pushup to kiss his boyfriend, heaving himself up just slightly out of care to not put his body weight on Tae. He still wasn't completely recovered after all, and hurting him on the first night back wouldn't be that smart.

Taehyung patted the empty spot next to him, waiting until Jungkook was situated by his side to pull the icy-cool covers over their warm bodies. The chilly touch only lasted for a couple of seconds, soon overtaken by the same warmth that kept them cozy in each other’s arms.

“I’m fucking tired..” Taehyung sluggishly mumbled into the crook of his boyfriend’s neck, prodding the tip of his nose against the skin. These days he enjoyed being the little spoon.. Maybe it was due to the fact he felt weaker than usual, but something about the way Kook’s chest rocked him to sleep, the way his arms protectively closed in around him; making him feel all the more small— it was intoxicating as hell. “G’night, Kook.” With one chaste kiss to his jaw, Tae’s cheek found its place in Jungkook's firm, yet soft pec, the comfortable heat drawing him into the gates of dreamland.

The next morning arrived too soon in Jungkook's opinion. As the alarm went off, a sleepy groan vibrated in his throat, reaching over to silence the clock by the nightstand before glancing down at the man sleeping soundly on his chest. He hadn't moved an inch since they fell asleep.

"Morning." Kook whispered softly as he embraced his boyfriend in his arms, pressing his nose into the elders hair to savor the moment before he had to force himself up for his traditional morning shower. Truth is, he hadn't slept this well in weeks, and even if he got the proper sleep he desperately needed; his morning energy was still yet to be found until he would step into the bathroom. "Ugh... I don't want to go to school.." he whined as he held Taehyung closer, tightening the hold as if the boy would disappear if he didn't hold on to him.

But he had to get up.

Carefully, Kook squirmed out of the bed to gently let Taehyung take the space he was previously in, the heated space he left behind keeping Tae warm. Kook got up on his feet, leaning down to press a soft kiss on his cheek before turning to rummage through his drawers for clean clothes, stripping off his boxers on the way.

Despite the loud interruption of the alarm clock he’d grown to hate, Taehyung’s eyes remained closed. He simply slurred over his groggy words, letting Jungkook know that he heard him— somewhat. “Go to school..” The elder immediately took over his boyfriend’s side of the bed, snuggling extra close to the remaining space of warmth as if it was Kook himself. Jungkook might’ve left him for the shower, but his distinct, pleasant scent had yet to leave the untidy sheets that embraced Taehyung’s lean body, streaming down his bare shoulders. T he muffled sound of the shower coming down like rain quickly soothed him back to sleep. Tae wanted to say ‘goodbye, have a nice day at school’ to his boyfriend before he left, but his body appeared to have other plans. Oh well.. he’ll see Jungkook afterwards. After all, they spent every waking second together.

Jungkook got dressed after his shower and headed back to the bedroom, ruffling his hair with the towel as he watched his boyfriend who had fallen back asleep. He didn't want to wake him, he needed the rest after all, so he opted to simply press a gentle kiss on his temple before grabbing his backpack and leaving. He wanted this day over with so he could go back home.

But things never go as planned for Jeon Jungkook...

Half of the day had gone by fairly smoothly, eating his lunch with his hyungs as they continuously asked about Taehyung.

''Is he okay?''

''Yeah,'' Jungkook smiled, ''He was discharged last night, so I took him home.''

''Oh my god!'' Jimin finally looked up from his phone to flash a wide squinted grin, ''So you're both really good this time?''

''Yeah, we are.'' Kook confirmed once more, feeling giddy about it himself. He just wanted to go home and kiss him right this second. His hyungs were happy for him, finally the tense drama seemed to have cooled down, now they just needed their last missing piece of the group to return.

Jungkook was heading to his next class, he was a bit late, when he spotted a, unfortunately, familiar face in the empty hallway that had his back facing him. But there's still no way he wouldn't recognize Ash from a mile away.

Why was he at school? Didn't the cops take care of him?

Ash had always been freakishly skillful at detecting every little glance— every single glimpse that was directed towards him. He fed off of the attention; his highly alert senses notified him whenever he had a pair of intrusive eyes on him. It caused the muscles in his back to twitch ever so slightly, the heaviness getting to be uncomfortable. It was no surprise when Ash turned around, surprisingly meeting Jungkook’s gaze. “Kookie..?” He whispered underneath his hitched breath, pleased they were alone in the vacant hallway. It was just the two of them, the way it should’ve been. The way it should always be.. Jungkook’s heart belonged to him, he knew it. The younger surely must’ve come back to his senses. Now that Taehyung wasn’t in the way, Jungkook could be his once again. The boy was still alive, what a fuckin’ shame. But it was now that counted, at least he got rid of him for the time being..

This time, Ash would hold onto Jungkook tight. Their love would make Tae wish he was dead.

The man was brave, taking a few steps towards Kook. A wicked smile stretched from ear to ear. He couldn't wait to get him back. “Jungkookie, long time no see. Did you miss me?”

Jungkook stood his ground, the fear he once had for the man lingering in the back of his head-- but it was drowning out with the fury that was pending, like a fuse slowly trailing towards a ticking time bomb. Not to mention, Kook was much stronger this time around. He was not the same boy that Ash had cornered in his own house. "Drop the bullshit. I know what you did." He hissed out his venomous words, the muscles in his torso flexing as he straightened his posture. "Why are you even allowed in school?" He asked, genuinely wondering why the hell he wasn't expelled for what he did.

"Tsk, Kookie." Ash clicked his tongue, seemingly unfazed by the younger. But in all honesty, he did feel the intimidating aura oozing off of the boy. It was frightening, and arousing all at once. Ash's father was a big name for a reason, getting the boy out of trouble whenever needed. This was no exception. A little money always solved everything. "Don't you see, I was only protecting you from getting hurt by Taehyung. He is no good for you. I hated that he kept making you sad." He simply stated as he took another step closer.

"You did nothing to help. You're a psycho." Jungkooks voice was laced with warning, clenching his fists. "He almost fucking died!"

‘But he didn’t, sadly.’ That’s what Ash wished he could’ve said, but even he knew better than to irk Jungkook at a moment like this. He’s never seen the younger look so distraught, everything about him screamed ‘angry’. Ash noticed the way Jungkook’s fists trembled at his sides, even then, he stayed put. It didn’t matter if the younger was irritated, Kook was talking to him. That’s all he wanted, to hear the boy’s honey voice once again.

“Taehyung’s not right for you, Kookie. Why can’t you see that?” Ash remained scarily calm, already used to the cutting hostility oozing from the younger. “Look at you— you’re feeling this way because of him!” He extended out a hand towards his past lover’s clenched fist, wanting to reassure him with the faintest of touches. “Forget about Taehyung, he’s not that special. All of us would’ve still lived on if he’d died.”

Those words were all that was needed to flick a switch inside of Jungkook, and his eyes darkened to nothing but a swirl of blank rage. His temperament had always been bad, but he's never felt this kind, the feeling was a mix between numbness and a series of explosions inside of his chest. His body moved on it's own, the clenched fist hurling forward until he drove his knuckles into Ash's jaw. The punch was so powerful that it immediately brought the man down on his ass, and before both of them knew it, Jungkook followed down on the floor to straddle the man's torso. "You." He snarled as another punch echoed in the hallway, "will never-" another crack of Ash's nose crushing, drawing blood that stained his face and Kooks knuckles, "even THINK about touching my boyfriend!" At this point, punches were growing frequent as Jungkook went into a blacked out frenzy, his dark, stringy curls sticking to the clammy skin of his forehead. He saw red, and he couldn't control how badly he wanted to hurt the person who tried to kill the only thing Jungkook truly loved. There was no mercy in the way he kept going, and going, and going until there was blood dribbling profusely from Ash's mouth and nose. Somebody had to stop him. The back of his mind screamed for him to--- but he couldn't. The anger in him had taken over, and it was as if all his pent up anger from everything he's been through was being released at this very moment.

The abrupt interruption of grunts and heavy punches arising from the otherwise silent hallway caught the attention of a few teachers. A few scurried over to the centre of the commotion, trying their hardest to pull a raging Jungkook off of Ash whilst the rest calmed down the prying students peeking out of the doorways, sneakily recording the aftermath of the fight. If they hadn’t broken up the younger’s punches when they did, Ash would have not been laying on the bloodied ground with an unsettling, weakened smile on his busted lips. Little Jungkookie was all grown up..

The teachers tried calming Jungkook down, but the boy was in too deep of a haze.

“Alright, put the phones down!” After harshly scolding the group of students, their attention was back on Kook. They had each one of the latter’s rigid arms in their tight grasp, preventing him from acting on the impulse of lunging at Ash; whom was receiving medical help from the school nurse. The view was one of a crime scene, there was blood shed everywhere— on Jungkook’s knuckles, clothes, floor, and now on the nurse’s hands as she led Ash to the health room. Meanwhile, Kook was headed towards the principal’s office. Whatever his motive was, it was unacceptable. There had to be consequences.

Jungkook was yet to come down from his rage until he was standing outside of the door to the principal's office. The teachers holding him didn't let him go, but opened the door to drag him inside towards the chair in front of the desk, where a very surprised principal was seated.

''Jeon?'' He said as he leaned forward in his chair, observing the mess that is one of his top students. He'd never ever been in this office for any reason whatsoever, so seeing this man... It wasn't the boy any of the staff recognized. ''What on earth happened?''

The teachers had finally let go of the young boy, standing behind the chair as they explained the recent events. Jungkook had severely harmed another student.

''This is not acceptable, Jeon..'' The principal was obviously upset and disappointed in him, ''Do you have anything to say?''

Jungkook's nostrils flared as he took deep breaths, eyes avoiding any of the adults, instead keeping his gaze fixed on his lap. ''He deserved it.'' he breathed out quietly, voice strained. His shoulders heaved up and down heavily as he finally noticed the blood on his hands, observing the bruised skin on his knuckles. He'd thrown punches so hard it scraped his own skin off.

The principal sighed, a hint of sadness in his eyes as he saw the pain and anger linger in Jungkook. But this wasn't something that could be justified by any means. ''Jeon Jungkook.. You're expelled from the school until further notice.''

Jungkook's eyes finally shot up to stare at the elder man, getting up on his feet so fast that the teachers behind him lunge forward to place a hand on each of his shoulders-- scared that he'd attack... Like he was some kind of animal.

''Wait, sir-- Let me explain!''

''Dismissed. Leave the premises immediately. I'm sorry Jeon.''

And yet, Ash never faced any consequences. Instead, Jungkook lost everything he'd been working his ass off for.

Fuck... What now?

Jungkook shrugged the hands away from his shoulders, hissing a 'Fine' before storming out the door. He didn't even notice the many looks and whispers coming his way as he headed down the hallways, and it wasn't until he was finally out on the street that everything slowly started to sink in.

''Fuck.... Fuck!'" he cursed, feeling his tears well up in his eyes. Wiping his cheek with his hand, he cursed once more as the blood on his hands smeared it-- but he couldn't bring himself to care. He just wanted to go home and take a shower, not a single thought on anything but crawling into his bed to process his previous meltdown. He didn't even want to face his hyungs, so he headed home. Slowly he made his way up the stairs to his apartment, fishing for the keys in his pocket. Another series of curses slipped through his lips as he dropped his keys too many times that he wanted to admit, his hands were aching, shaking... Finally, he managed to unlock the door and step inside, hoping that his boyfriend would still be asleep so he could take a quick shower and not look like he had been involved in a fight club.

“What the fuck! I fucking killed that guy, this is bullshit..” Taehyung shouted at the ‘Game Over’ displayed on the screen of the TV. They had to put it in bold letters, as if Tae wasn’t already feeling the discouraging ache in his chest— and hands. The thumbs that were previously working on the buttons of the controller were sore, their quick movements and utmost attention wasted. He’d woken up a few hours after Jungkook’s subtle departure, completely disoriented whilst he sat on his boyfriend’s bed, in his boyfriend’s room. However, his boyfriend was nowhere to be seen. It’d taken him a few too many seconds to remember, the common symptoms of a heavy sleep having yet to subdue from his mind. The rest of the day was far from eventful, especially without Jungkook by his side. Taehyung would’ve spammed the younger’s phone with borderline annoying text messages, but he’d been too busy playing video games to actually go through with it. In fact, his cellphone remained in the back pocket of his pants. Which remained on the floor of Jungkook’s bedroom.. Wanting to quench his sudden want for his boyfriend’s smell, Taehyung stole a change of the boy’s comfortable clothes. The shirt seemed way too big on him, but the sweatpants fit him okay. “Fuck.. let’s try again.” The elder heard the familiar chiming of keys, unaware of the time. It had to be after three, Kook was finally home. “Baby, hey. I’m playi— Jungkook-ah, what happened?” Taehyung might’ve not seen the younger leave for school, but he was sure Jungkook didn’t leave looking the way he did. The remote fell onto the couch, and Tae quickly shuffled on his feet. “Kook.. what— what the hell happened? Why are you all bloodied up?” Taehyung’s worried eyes inspected over the bruising on his inflamed knuckles, warm hands reaching outwards to cup his boyfriend’s solemn face. “You got in a fight? With who.. Jungkook, what the hell are you doing getting into fights?” His noticeable concern didn’t leave any room for answers, simply spitting out one question after the other.

Jungkook's eyes were glazed with an unnamed emotion, avoiding Tae's worried eyes as he looked to the side, then the other, before they finally landed back on his boyfriend. At least Taehyung was okay. He had Taehyung. Without a word, a shaky sigh pushed through his nostrils as he wrapped his arms around Taehyung's slim waist to pull him in for a hug, shrugging away from the hold on his face to bury his nose into the elders neck. "I'm sorry. I promised you not to..." Koo sighed again, this time feeling the remaining scatters of his anger mix with the sadness of the consequences he had to deal with, and it showed in the way his body was trembling with every word. "I just got so angry, everything blacked out, I... he.. fuck..." He didn't give any specifics, his mind too blurred by everything repeating itself in the back of his mind. The one thing keeping him grounded was the warmth of Taehyung.

If Taehyung wasn’t already taken aback by the unforeseen, soul-stirring embrace, Jungkook’s unsteady confession surely had him wide eyed.

‘He’...

The soft palm of his hand swept over Jungkook’s back, the other held on to the latter’s nape, thumb pressing circular motions over the taut skin.

Who was, ‘he’..

“You’re okay, angel.” Whatever it was that was bothering him, Tae wanted to get rid of it. “I’m here.”

‘I promised you not to...’

‘He’.

At that moment, it clicked. Jungkook was talking about Ash. The realization made Taehyung hug him even tighter, even closer. The younger needed him at this moment, so to blame him for acting on his impulses wouldn’t be the smartest idea.

“Deep breaths, Kook..”

Jungkook did as told, taking deep ragged breaths until they were steady enough for him to feel himself relax even the slightest. When he finally did, he still took another moment to just feel Taehyung's comfort-- as if everything happening around him wasn't his reality in this very moment. Just him and Tae.

"I'm sorry..." he murmured into the elders neck once more, tightening the hold around his waist, "I fucked everything up." And just like that, he felt himself crumble again, quiet sobs causing his shoulders to shake. He didn't regret beating Ash up, but being expelled? His scholarships went down the drain. His hard work wasted. He'd lost everything.

No basketball... No money. That idea of a part time job had to become a full time one at this point.

“Hey, don’t talk down to yourself, alright? There’s nothing you should be sorry for..” Taehyung turned his head to stamp a kiss onto the younger’s temple. “We’re going to figure this out. Together.” Tae didn’t exactly know what happened, but he’d been invited to the principal’s office far too many times in the past. The older man was kind, yet extremely stern when it came down to it. A bloody fight in the halls of his school? Expulsion was deemed the best fit. Fuck.. Taehyung knew how seriously Jungkook took his studies. The news must’ve been equivalent to getting a bag of bricks thrown at his chest. “If you’re worried about money.. I’ll help you.” The elder pulled away to gaze into his glazed eyes. “Just— just tell me you want me to work and I’ll start looking for a job. This place feels like my own.”

Jungkook slowly loosened his grip around his boyfriend until he simply rested his hands on his hips, pulling back just enough to look at him. "Yeah?" A small smile tugged at his lips, when did Taehyung become so... sweet? He's become more and more domestic the more they were together, the boy nothing like the aggressive mess he used to be. Well, an enhanced, better version. But now... Kook started to feel like he's the one becoming a worse version of himself.

"Focus on school first." Kook hissed quietly when he felt the sting in his knuckles as he accidentally brushed them against the fabrics of Tae's shirt. "ouch.... man, I need a shower." But the thought of washing with his hands made him cringe a bit.

Gently, Tae’s fingers advanced downwards to wrap around Jungkook’s wrist, bringing the younger’s hand up to his face for closer inspection. A thin layer of skin had come loose from his knuckles, giving the blood more raw area to resurface. “No, what you need is a deep cleanup. Uh, let me get the..” It was then that Taehyung realized he didn’t know where to start. “The.. shit, how do you do this?” He masked it well, but in that very moment, Taehyung felt like he was deserving of the title for the shittiest boyfriend in the world. Kook needed him, yet he couldn’t care for him in the ways he was supposed to. “I’m sorry.” Tae rubbed a hand over his nape when suddenly someone else came to mind.. He wasn’t necessarily fond of this person, but if it meant that Jungkook wouldn’t be in pain anymore, he’d reach out to the devil himself. “We’re going to Jisoo’s, she’d know what to do.”

Jungkook inspected his knuckles as well, wincing at the sight of the skin. It stung really bad... He would be lying if he said he wasn't surprised that Tae suggested to visit Jisoo, however understanding by the fact that.. well, Tae was pretty clueless when it came to these things. ''Yeah, that's a good idea.'' Kook agreed mindlessly. Jisoo always knew what to do. And she'd be thrilled to see that Taehyung made it okay-- but... maybe not by the fact that Jungkook looked like he'd killed a person. ''Right now?'' He asked sheepishly, wiping his cheek with the palm of his hand to remove some of the dried blood.

Tae snuck an arm around Jungkook’s waist, partly to guide him outside, and the other to rub off their relationship in Jisoo’s face. Call him petty, he doesn’t give a fuck. “Yeah, right now.” He was glad the woman was simply a few steps to their left, arriving at her door in a matter of seconds.

It didn’t take long for Jisoo to appear after a couple knocks, her expression of relief when seeing Taehyung shifting into one of horror when her tired eyes fell on Jungkook. She didn’t know how to feel. “Uhm.. wha— what happened? Oh my goodness, come in, come in!” The woman shut the door behind them, urging Kook to sit down on the couch. Tae sat down next to him, one of his hands possessively placed on his boyfriend’s thigh. “Tell me what happened, you look like you killed a person..” Jisoo came back with a small box in her hold, pulling up a chair in front of Jungkook before reaching for the latter’s bleeding hand, worry evident in her face.

Jungkook felt vaguely trapped in between the two, one possessively squeezed to his side as the other was sitting straight in front of him. He was used to Jisoo's close proximity, none of it even making him blink twice when she picked up his hand, the touch all too familiar. He supposed he did almost kill a person, a part of him wondered what would've happened if nobody had stopped him. But obviously he wasn't going to mention that. ''Ah.. It's complicated.'' Jungkook tried to avoid the question, he didn't want her to worry about his temper, knowing she knows that it isn't his best quality. He hissed when she brought out the disinfectant, cautiously wiping his wounds clean to avoid any further swelling.

''I don't believe this is nothing,'' Jisoo pressed further, her eyes moving up to meet the youngers. It felt odd that the close proximity between the two didn't feel... well, odd.

''Got into a fight, that's all..'' A one sided fight, but Ash deserved it. Jungkook would do it all over again without any regret.

Jisoo hummed, still not believing him entirely. She had sharper eyes than you'd think, noting how only Jungkook's knuckles were the parts that were actually bruised, while the rest of him was simply just stained with blood. Most likely not his own. She also noted Taehyung's hand slowly moving up and down Jungkook's thigh as to soothe his pain, internally scolding herself for actually feeling a pang of jealousy.

''But..'' Jungkook sighed quietly, he did trust Jisoo with a lot of things. There's no way he could keep a big thing like this from her, however bad it sounds. ''I got expelled.''

The disinfecting of the cuts on his damaged skin took a small pause. Jisoo’s light brown eyes were nearly the size of a ping pong ball, staring up at Kook with utter shock.

Jungkook got expelled..? Her friend Jungkook?

“Oh. Damn, that’s.. that’s horrible.” The other hand that didn’t have the latter’s own bruised one on her lap reached out to smooth over Jungkook’s bicep, trying to soothe him with a simple touch. She didn’t mean anything flirtatious from it.. kind of. But Taehyung knew better. After catching them kissing, every glance from Jisoo felt wrong.. invasive. “If you need help with anything.. money, food— anything, just, reach out to me.”

“Don’t worry. He’s gonna be turning to me for any help.” Taehyung spoke for the first time since he stepped foot into her apartment. His tone of voice wasn’t spiteful, but it wasn’t kind either..

“Oh.. uhm, yeah. Yeah I mean, I get it. Sure.” The tension between the two couldn’t even be cut with a knife. The woman inhaled before continuing to mend for Jungkook’s wounds, trying her hardest to not be affected by the hostility in her own apartment. “Anyways.. Yuna keeps asking for you, Googie.” Jisoo flashed a quick smile, hoping to ease the uncomfortable tension in the room. Babies automatically made everything better.. right?

Jungkook was oblivious to the tension between the two, feeling the smile tug on his lips at the mention of little Yuna. ''Yeah? Where is she?'' He asked, momentarily forgetting about the problems that was his ban from school, and the future. He always felt weak for the little child and her pure joy. ''Maybe she wouldn't want to see me looking all messed up, though..'' He remembered, lifting his hand to look at how the irritation of his wounds had gone down significantly from the cleaning.

Jisoo seemed pleased that Kook was unaware, even more so that the mention of Yuna brought a smile to his face. He needed it.. “She’s taking a much needed nap. You know.. all that crying, pooping, and peeing is tiring.” The woman chuckled at her own joke, stealing a curious glance at Taehyung. He remained poker faced, the topic of babies not working on him. Jisoo softly cleared her throat, spreading the lukewarm gel over Jungkook’s prominent knuckles. “And she always wants to see you, by the way. She loves you, trust me.” It was true, Yuna’s never been more infatuated with a man in her life. She hadn’t experienced much of life yet, but the way her squeaky squeals grew in size at the sight of Kook was endearing.

Jungkook's toothy grin grew further at the thought of Yuna's little joyful squeals, a light chuckle emitting from his lips. That little girl had a piece of Kooks heart, that was for sure. "I'll have to come play with her soon, I bet she will go crazy if she can't mess up my hair soon." He loved children, and just thinking about it made his heart feel lighter.

A moment of silence followed, Jungkook was quietly looking at Jisoo as she did the same, the odd moment of having the two people who must care about him the most was both.. weird yet comforting. However, the younger was in dire need of a shower...

"Alright noona," he said as he placed his hands on his thighs to get ready to head out, "Were gonna go, I need to get out of these clo-.. well I need a shower." He didn't want to overshare like he usually would, especially not with his boyfriend around. Things were different again. "Thank you for taking care of me." The underlying meaning of his words were there, she always took care of him-- time and time again. He reached out to give her a soft squeeze on her hand before getting out of the couch, Taehyung quickly followed behind him like a puppy until they were at the door.

It was official, Taehyung was jealous. He admitted it hurt somewhere deep within to watch Jisoo and Jungkook interact. Not out loud, but internally counts.. The way they stared at one another prompted a powerful clench in his chest— and fists. Their shared inside jokes, ‘Googie’, how they didn’t seem uncomfortable when she unhesitantly rested Kook’s hand on her bare lap, as if it was a natural occurrence for them. I t made Tae wonder if they’ve gone further than a simple kiss. Just because it was something he didn’t wish to accept, it didn’t mean that it couldn’t have been a reality.. He was grateful for Jisoo in certain aspects. But when it came to flirting with his handsome boyfriend? She messed with the wrong guy. Taehyung wasn’t blind. He saw and cherished all of the younger’s attractive qualities. It made him cocky to know others couldn’t express their desire the way he could.. Oh and did he express it. Multiple times.

Once they’d made the short walk back to Jungkook’s apartment, Tae slammed the door behind him, walking closer to Kook until his hands comfortably rested on his hips. “Glad you’re feeling better.” Not a second longer, Taehyung attached his longing lips to his boyfriend’s neck, sucking on the skin like he’d never done before. The hands that rested on each hip snaked down to Jungkook’s ass, groping the plump flesh in between his long fingers. Bless whoever invented sweatpants.

“I caught you ‘n Jisoo kissing.” Tae squeezed harder, sucked rougher. It appeared as if he was talking about the weather, not putting much mind into it. Whatever happened, happened. “You have no fucking idea how jealous that makes me..” The elder growled into his ear. “did you fuck too? Hm?”

Jungkook groaned quietly at the sudden intimacy, immediately granting the elder more access to his neck by craning it to the side. Tae's hot breath fanned his ear, causing his ass muscles to tense up in his grasp. Wait, Taehyung saw them kissing? When? "Ah..." he whined as he placed his hands on his boyfriend's shoulders. "Mm....'m sorry.. it just.. " he paused to focus on another breath, overly responsive to the dominance Taehyung oozed-- it's been so long since Kook was on the receiving end of this. "It j-just kinda happened.."

Jungkook’s blatant response only fed into Taehyung’s jealousy, a hint of anger was thrown into the boiling mix. “It just kinda happened, huh..” Frustrated, he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, refusing to believe that was the best apology Kook had to offer. His indecisive hands slid upwards to grip onto Jungkook’s waist, keeping the latter on his feet whilst Taehyung’s teeth tugged at an abused patch on his thick, accessible neck. Curious, the elder glanced up at him through the microscopic openings in his dark eyelashes. His tipped jaw flexed with every bite, lick, and inch of attention he was putting into Jungkook, withdrawing his wet lips when pleased with the final product. Taehyung looked into his boyfriend’s doe eyes, noticeably determined as he spoke. “I’m gonna make rough love to you, and you’re gonna take every second of it.” This time, Taehyung wasn’t playing around. He had to show everyone whom Jungkook belonged to, otherwise they’d try to steal him. That just couldn’t happen. “Off to the bed, baby. I wanna shove my dick inside that tight little ass of yours— and soon.”

A breathy 'yes' was all Jungkook could muster to say as he immediately did as he was ordered to do, heading towards the bed. He stood by the edge, the back of his knees pressing against the foot of the bed as he kept his darkened, needy gaze on his boyfriend. He had missed this side of Taehyung, he had to admit. It reminded him of the strong, stubborn asshole he fell in love with. Without a word, he stripped his stained clothes off until he was wearing nothing at all, no patience left for what's to come. And besides, if he could read the elders eyes right, there was no patience left in him either. Just pure, jealous, possessive lust. Kook remained standing however, not daring to do anything else until told so.

“Fuck, I love it when you get desperate.” Taehyung took his time to closely examine every dip, rounded edge, and margin of Jungkook’s naked body. And goddamn, was it a sight to see... There came a time where he couldn’t handle seeing. Instead, he needed to feel. It’s been way too long. Part of him forgot about what made his boyfriend’s fleshy, warm insides so addicting.. Taehyung stepped closer to the younger, now able to make out the goosebumps running along his milky skin. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, you know that?” His lips ghosted over Jungkook’s, his neck, and ears. “Even the way you’re oozing precum is adorable.” Taehyung brushed the tip of their noses together, breathing onto his face. “You’re adorable, that’s all you are at the moment.” His bigger hands tightly squeezed onto Jungkook’s hips, sure to leave a mark. “But you know what should bring you shame? Fucking someone else behind my back.” He pressed their foreheads together, hungry eyes lusting over a quick taste of his boyfriend’s rosy lips. But he wouldn’t. Until Jungkook came out with a different, heartfelt apology, Taehyung would hold back. I n the blink of an eye, the elder’s pointer finger was pointed at the vacant bed. “On all fours, make sure you stick out that pretty little ass.”

Jungkook's hitched breath got caught in his throat in the form of a muffled whine from Taehyung's rough hands, the way he hisses his words out turned the younger on so fucking much. It surely was confusing as it mixed with his guilt for what he'd done while they were broken up. He didn't utter a word. And honestly, he probably wouldn't be able to even if he tried. Being so easily subdued by the elder, despite his larger and obviously more powerful frame, he crumbled into a little boy that just wanted to please as soon as Tae speaks. Jungkook turned on his heels to climb up on the bed on his knees, glancing over his shoulder through his dark locks at his boyfriend before slowly getting down on all fours, keeping his torso up with his elbows on leverage. It took him a few seconds too long to lower himself a bit further, arching his back just a tad bit to give his ass that extra bit of a plump look. A soft sigh escaped his lips, a bit embarrassed by how exposed he suddenly felt. He'd been like this in front of Taehyung several times previously, but this time felt different. Kook felt the heated stare laying heavy on his body.

The elder practically foamed at the mouth, entranced from the way Jungkook desperately clenched around nothingness. He imagined it were his raw cock that was getting squeezed in between his boyfriend’s sloppy walls, silently begging him to never leave his dripping chambers. “Such a pretty ass..” Taehyung licked over his lips, both hands smoothing over each cheek. He harshly squeezed the skin, watching it jut out from between his fingers. “And an even prettier little hole.” Without a heads up, Tae leaned down to slowly swipe his flattened tongue over the crack running along Jungkook’s back, initiating a bit of extra pressure on the latter’s puckered entrance. He paused to watch the way his boyfriend’s body quivered, only to do it again, and again. Taehyung parted Kook’s rosy cheeks even further, leaning back in to place kitten licks over the younger’s hole. The elder’s eyes remained closed, and a hue of red washed over his cheeks. He would’ve never thought he’d be eating out someone’s ass, but here he was.. Enjoying every fucking second of it. “So sweet.” Taehyung lowly mumbled against Jungkook’s sensitive spot, opening his eyes to stick his middle finger inside, continuing to press open mouthed kisses around the rim.

Kook whined out his boyfriend's name in quiet whimpers, pressing his cheek against the soft duvet. His breathing gradually grew heavier with every ounce of attention he was given, the warmth of the elders wet tongue a new sensation itself. "Oh..fuck..." his whines grew along with his heavy breaths, bordering on moans at this point when he felt Taehyung's long finger spread his tight hole open. He tried his best to relax his muscles, but everytime another praise was thrown his way he felt his body reacting on it's own. He couldn't control the instinctual response of his body trying to move closer to feel Taehyung's finger deeper, his neediness presenting itself in the way his skin was burning, precum dribbling down onto the sheets below him. And not to mention the pathetic sounds emitting from his throat. "More, please..."

“More?” Taehyung’s slick finger moved inside of him, but not as fast as Jungkook wanted. The elder wanted to be a tease, only thrusting the single digit in and out of his boyfriend at the speed he deemed acceptable. “Shit, you’re squeezing so fucking hard.” Tae’s free hand slowly slid up the prominent line cutting through the middle of Jungkook’s back, stopping at the latter’s raven hair to give it a harsh tug. His boyfriend’s curls were long enough where he could twirl his fingers within the strands, as if they became one. “So fucking warm ‘n tight..” Taehyung’s teeth harshly tugged at his bottom lip, feeling the room’s cool air clash against his dampened finger the second he unplugged it out of Jungkook, no longer embraced by the younger’s soft tunnels. With his lower body still fully clothed, Tae pressed the growing bulge prodding at his fabrics against Kook’s wet entrance. The other hand grasped onto the younger’s hip, feeling the accumulating sweat gradually build up on Jungkook’s skin whilst he held him in place. “Think you owe me a better apology, baby.” Tae began grinding his hips into his boyfriend. “Fuck.. I’m still angry.” Vividly picturing that he had his cock tucked deep inside of him, Taehyung’s pelvis roughly slammed against Kook’s ass. “Apologize.” Another thrust, and another, another.. “If I like it then maybe I’ll let you take off my clothes, pretty thing. You wanna be stuffed with my fat dick, don’t you?”

Jungkook turned his neck to get a glimpse of his boyfriend with his own large, needy eyes. "I'm s-sorr-ah!" His whiny voice was interrupted by a particularly hard thrust, his chest falling down on the sheets as he lost balance to keep himself up. His cheek rubbed against the soft fabrics, eyes welling up with tears due to the aching between his legs mixed with the constant tease against his hips, wishing it was Taehyung's cock spreading his ass open instead. "Please, Taehyung!" He put an effort into speaking this time, taking a shaky breath with the occasional gasp. "please, I'm sorry-- I don't want anybody else, all I could think of was how she wasn't you... please, please..." the sheet below the younger was stained with his precum, and the fat tears that slowly trickled down from his cheeks. "I need you, please, only you..."

“Damn right.” Taehyung’s fingers tugged harder at his boyfriend’s mess of hair, raspy moans of his own audible to the stuffed ears as he pressed himself harder against Jungkook’s mishandled opening, swiveling his hips mercilessly. He never would’ve thought seeing tears in Kook’s doe eyes would arouse him in any scenario, but here he was, hornier than ever knowing he was the reason for the younger’s crystal beads of water trickling down his face. The front of his bulge had a minor wet spot, and Tae could feel the dampness with every dry thrust against his boyfriend. He couldn’t take it anymore. “You got lucky,” He leaned down to whisper into his ear, “now, get up and undress me.”

Jungkook had to take a second to collect himself, using his strong but wobbly arms to push himself up to his knees and turn around to face his still fully clothed boyfriend. It felt quite weird in contrast, as he himself was fully naked, skin glistening with sweat and precum. Not to mention the tears still rolling down his damp cheeks. They weren't sad tears though.. just, needy, overwhelming emotions of want for his Taehyung. He reached out with both hands to tug the hem of the elders shirt, swiftly pulling it over his head to finally reveal his torso. Kook felt his mouth salivating already, his own greediness growing even further as he wasted no time in equalizing their amount of clothes, unbuttoning Tae's pants so quickly he almost ripped it with his strength. Finally, he peeled his pants down along with his underwear, doe eyes watching in admiration as his turgid cock springs up to taunt Jungkook. God, did he want a taste... Kooks eyes flickered up to meet Tae's, the whiny pitch in his voice something only this man got to hear from the younger. " Fuck my mouth, please... want you to. I'll take it all."

A deep, taunting chuckle emitted from the pit of Taehyung’s throat, one hand reaching outwards to cup the side of Jungkook’s tear-streaked face. “Good boy for saying please.” Tae stared down into his glassy eyes, the bulging head of his cock doing the same. “Of course you’ll take it all.” His thumb brushed away the string of salty water cascading down his rosy, glowing cheek. “Open up.” And just like that, he withdrew his gentle touch. There was a lesson to be taught. “A-ah.. fuck yeah..” The second the tip popped in past his boyfriend’s plush lips, Taehyung threw his head back with a moan. “Good boy.” His fingers held on to a handful of Jungkook’s hair yet again, this time he had a motive. Slowly, Tae thrusted into the boy’s warm mouth, wanting to start off easy. “So fucking good for me..”

Jungkook's jaw went slack to allow Taehyung's thick length to push into his warm mouth, drool already trickling down the corners of his lips. As he took it deeper, the restricted air flow forced him to focus on breathing through his nose, a faint groan vibrating in his chest at the tangy taste of Tae's precum coating his tongue. Kook put his palms flat on the bed, on all fours. It made him feel dirty, his body reacting so easily to every praise and harsh tug in his long locks, eyebrows gradually drawn together as he focuses on doing well to please his boyfriend.

The sinful sight from beneath him was the boost Taehyung needed to fuck harder into his boyfriend’s mouth, feeling Jungkook’s nose repeatedly prod his pelvis with every sloppy, squelching thrust. “Such a fuckin’ tight little mouth..” His long fingers curled tighter around the younger’s hair, harshly yanking him forward time and time again to meet his fast-moving hips, “My tight little mouth, ah fuck..” He could feel it. If he continued for a second longer, he’d burst his warm seed into his boyfriend’s mouth. The elder didn’t want that, the only place he wanted to spill himself into was Jungkook’s ass— at least for now.. “You did good, baby boy.” Ignoring the faint whines, Taehyung pulled out his soaked cock. Slobber ran down his rough length, as it did Kook’s chin. He found it adorable. Tae smirked down at his boyfriend. “Bet you’ll like this.” With one hand on his wet dick, he carefully smacked his length against the skin of Jungkook’s face, gently slapping it across his cheeks, nose, and chin. “You like that, huh. Your boyfriend’s fat cock all over your face..”

Kook flinched at the initial smack against his cheek, the wetness creating several strings of saliva and precum sticking to the skin of his face. He looked up at his boyfriend with a gaze filled with nothing but submission, like an innocent puppy obediently taking whatever he's given. And the truth is, he did love it. The slight degradation to it had his own cock aching as it remained untouched. ''I don't like it... I love it.'' He countered with a slight brattiness to his tone, but not too much as to where it would seem like he's putting up an attitude. He licked his plushy lips clean off of the juices staining them, eyes following Tae's rigid cock as it painted his skin in a layer of their juices, until his eyes fell back to meet Taehyung's. The teasing was riling the younger up so much that it made him impatient and whiny. If continued for too long, he might pick up an attitude after all. ''Please... more...'' He carefully asked, eyes still not averting Tae's, staring up at him with his doe eyes that were swirling with need and admiration. He wanted so much more, he'd missed feeling the very cock that was taunting him, he just wanted to have it shoved deep inside of him right now.

Truth was, Taehyung had been stripping himself of his own desires. He too wanted to stuff his cock inside of his boyfriend, fill him up to the brim with every droplet of his cum that shot out of him. It was harder than he’d thought, as if Tae was punishing himself in the midst of it. The stare of desperation Jungkook was giving him.. it drew him in like no other. It was as if Taehyung could see his own wants through the younger’s brown irises. He had to be inside of him, Jungkook wanted it just as much. “Get up.” He bossed the younger around, pumping himself a few times before stepping into Kook’s lewd bubble. With both hands placed on his boyfriend’s waist, Tae led them both to the wall. “Hope you love this just as much.” He swiftly leaned in to catch Jungkook’s glistening lips with his own, muffling his boyfriend’s squeaky moans. The moment Taehyung pulled away panting, he reached for the younger’s legs, picking him up without much effort. He made sure they were tightly secured around his flexed torso, adjusting Kook’s body with both hands on his bare ass. “Ah fucking hell..” Taehyung pushed his cock was all the way in, keeping still to get used to the familiar tightness. He pressed Jungkook’s back against the same wall, hiding his red face in the crook of his boyfriend’s neck as he slowly began to move. “The tightest I swear to fucking god.. you’re squeezing around my cock so well.”

Jungkook's muffled moans became clear as day the very moment the kiss was broken, a loud, raspy groan in pleasure and pain striking the room. "Fuck, it's big.. so big, ah.." he whines, the way Taehyungs girth stretched his ass was a mix of pain and bliss that rushed through his entire body when his boyfriend moved inside of him. Kook hooked his arms around Tae's neck, locking himself onto him as if he never wanted to let go. If he could stay this way forever he would. "Feels good... feels so fucking good.." the youngers mind quickly turned into a haze, vision blurred with his lust as he threw his head back against the wall. His eyes fluttered shut, mouth hanging open in breathy gasps for air. It was insane to him how weak he was for every single touch, praise, and even punishments that he was given.

“My cock’s big, hm?” Taehyung withdrew from his hiding spot on his boyfriend’s sweaty neck, relishing in the mix of whines and grunts that slipped past Jungkook’s agape lips. “Baby, ‘m gonna make you feel even better.” The elder pulled out all the way, giving himself a moment to catch his breath— to center himself, and then slammed his hips forward as hard as he could. “A-ahh..” He dragged out, loving the way Jungkook’s body shivered, how his ass tensed up in the palms of his hands. Tae’s whole body was slick with sweat, and the slide of his dick was fast and easy. Almost too easy. “I fucking love you..” He slammed deep inside of him a second time, close enough to taste the salty, dripping sweat on Jungkook’s neck. “Love fucking you.” Another harsh slap of his pelvis, the sound echoing throughout the room. “Fuck.. love—” The words couldn’t seem to come out, not with the way his boyfriend’s insides were pulling him in. Taehyung wouldn’t stop there, however. “Love kissing you so much.” He snapped into him, the mushroom tip rubbing against Jungkook’s prostate. “Love being your— f-fuck.. I love being your best friend and your boyfriend in one— ah..” Being so deep inside of the man he loved, it played with Tae’s emotions. He loved this man, and he wanted to remind him of that whilst he made love to him.

Jungkook's moans echoed in the apartment, louder with each thrust that perfectly rammed just the right spot inside of him to build up the heat that pooled in his lower stomach. ''G-god...yes-- fuck, I love you-uu!'' He cried out, unaware of the tears that had started to trickle down the corners of his eyes, still keeping them tightly shut. Kook held onto his boyfriend, digging his blunt nails into his shoulders. ''Taehyu-ung...'' Jungkook breathed out his lover's name in between whines that were grew more high pitched-- indicating that he was getting closer and closer to his own end. ''I'm gonna cum if you keep going, please, please don't stop... Haa....Harder...'' Kook's voice lowered as he almost growled out his words almost as a demand. Just.. Feeling his cock being rubbed between their slick bodies, and his ass constantly rammed into-- on top of the emotional praise.. It was too much. Kook was practically crying, begging for more to get rid of the aching that throbbed within his entire being.

As if he was a machine wired to satisfy all of Jungkook’s needs, Taehyung pushed aside the soreness building up in his flexed arms. His rounded nails sank into the reddened skin of his boyfriend’s plump ass, holding him tighter— fucking him harder until Tae felt his knees buckle up, legs slightly quivering underneath their weight. “Cum with me baby, ‘m close too..” His brows knitted closer together, and his face scrunched up into the same ugly expression, letting his boyfriend know that he was right there with him; barely hanging on to the edge. Nevertheless, the enthusiasm in Taehyung’s thrusts never faltered. “Fuuuck..!” The sound he made laid somewhere between a grunt and a moan, whatever it was— Tae was extremely close. “S-so good baby, shit-- good boy.” He spilled out barely coherent praises until all he could mutter was a long, strained moan. Taehyung spilled his cum into his boyfriend’s warm ass, painting Jungkook’s stretched walls with the dripping liquid. He continued to lazily slam into him, fucking his cum deeper into Kook until he just.. couldn’t. The energy he once possessed was spent into pleasing the younger, and damn was it worth it.. “I love you, dumbass..” Tae mumbled onto his neck, his heavy panting fanning at the skin. “That was fucking great. Ten out of ten would hit again.” The sound of his tired chuckles echoed throughout the room, replacing the sound of their moans.

Jungkook's orgasm hit him like a punch in the gut the exact moment he felt Tae's hot spurts of cum filling him up. His own cum painted their sweaty stomachs, rubbing the liquid together as his boyfriend kept lazily moving inside of him. When the sensitivity hit him further, his body started to shake and squirm in the elders hold, his out of breath voice was shaking. "I love..lo-ove..you-u too.. ah..." his hands moved to stroke his boyfriends hair, gently running his fingers through the messy curls, "so good, ten out of ten would let hit me again..." kook countered, his voice a bit less strained as he slowly collected himself. He unhooked his legs to place his feet on the floor, attempting to stand properly. Shit, he was gonna be sore tomorrow. E ven as he stood properly, his hands remained tangled into Taehyung's hair, looking at his just as fucked out and exhausted state. "I love you.... you're not.. still mad at me right?" He tilted his head, hands moving to cup Taes face, "About noona."

Taehyung shook his head, wrapping his arms around the younger’s waist to balance him, “I don’t think I was ever mad, more so.. jealous. I mean, we weren’t together during that time so..” He leaned forward to press a kiss onto Jungkook’s nose. “I’m still a little jealous, but I’ll survive.” Once sure that his boyfriend could stand on his own, Tae stretched his aching arms over his head. “Speaking of surviving, will you?” Along with a raise of his brow, the elder’s lips morphed into a sly smirk. “I went all out, and I’m not sorry.” His hand reached back to pat Jungkook’s ass, seeing bits of him cum dribble down the latter’s thighs.

Jungkook groaned as he stretched his own body. His legs lightly quivered when he carried his full weight on his own feet, knowing he's gonna rock a limp for the next day or so. Brings back memories for sure, from their first time that left Kook a limping idiot that barely could participate in basket practice. "Okay," kook sighs in relief, "I'll survive, just... I really need that shower now.." He really did, beating up Ash and getting thoroughly fucked was more than enough to make him feel like he needed to be boiled in water at this point to feel clean. On unstable legs, he still managed to keep himself steady enough to grab his boyfriends hand and lead the two of them to his bathroom, turning on the hot water of the familiar shower. Even the small squeak as he turned the water on was comforting in a sense. It was always there, and somehow he had never thought about it until now. Trivial things that just melt into your life.

Like Taehyung. He really couldn't imagine his life if the elder didn't exist in his life. "Taehyung.." Kook murmured out in the tiled room that slowly began to fog up with the heated water, reaching out to make sure it was just the temperature he wanted before stepping in. "you should move in with me." Technically, they already did kind of life together; but not officially. The elder still had most of his stuff at his own house, and kook wanted to change that. He wanted to make sure there was nothing that tied Tae to that shithole.

When the younger tiredly called out his name, Taehyung expected another‘I love you’ or a breathless kiss. What he didn’t see coming was the proposition Jungkook had thrown at him; the latter seemed sure, like he’d made up his mind ages ago. It wasn’t something light. No, his boyfriend was offering him a place to live. Permanently.

“Are you.. are you serious?” Taehyung didn’t quite know how to act, how to feel. Did Kook take pity on him? Was this a decision they were going to regret later down the road? No one knew. Apart from the occasional negative thoughts, the clouds parted, letting in the light. Far more positive views resurfaced, covering those that previously sent a tingle of anxiety down Taehyung’s spine. The hot stream of water never bothered him, but now that he was more aware of his senses— how he truly felt, Tae took a step back. Maybe that’s what he needed in his life, a new start, to be less.. stressed, anxious. And Jungkook was his, the fresh start that he’d been longing for all along. “I-I’d love to.” A wide, breathtaking smile shone brighter than the bruises on his skin. The elder’s eyes glazed over, and to try and cover up his emotions, Taehyung threw himself into his boyfriend’s arms. “Thank you.”

Jungkook's anxiety was immediately pushed away when he felt his boyfriend in his arms, the only few words he needed to hear. Tae suddenly felt so small in his arms, the duality of this man's personality was unbelievable. He hugged Taehyung for a while, feeling his own eyes tear up at the revelation. He was gonna live together with his boyfriend. Away from the abusive father. Closer to him. A deep sigh in relief had his shoulders sinking as he placed kisses on Tae's forehead, a wide toothy grin of his own to match the brightness he was given. "I'm so happy!" Koo chirped, "you make me happy." His smile softened as he slowly begun to guide them both underneath the stream of water, letting it rinse the sweat off their clammy skin.

Proving the unthinkable, Taehyung’s boxy grin grew in size, his eyes nearly disappearing into upside down smiles of their own. His whole body was beaming, the elder was the happiest he’s ever been in days. The night Jungkook asked him out remained his happiest memory, but at the moment; as they stood under the hot shower, this was definitely a close second. Both were giant leaps into their relationship, and Tae couldn’t be any prouder. “You make me happy too, Kook.” He pulled away just enough to look into his boyfriend’s tender eyes, their sore bodies still bundled together in an embrace. “Fuck.. I just, I still can’t believe it. I’m gonna be living with you,” Taehyung laughed in disbelief. “And don’t worry! I’ll start working soon for the both of us if you want me to. I-I’ll help you with the monthly rent, the bills, everything. This is our home, after all.” A safe place away from their shitty parents, and a place where they could be their disgustingly cheesy selfs, domestic; idiots in love. What more could Tae want? “Just, promise you won’t get tired of me?”

"As if I'd get tired of this? I can barely stand the moments where you're not with me." Jungkook added to the cheesy moment as he reached for the loofah to soap it up and begin to gently run it over Tae's skin. Kook loved taking care of him, whether it be to spoil him with his love, feed him, or just... wash his skin after making love. All of it was for him, their own private moments. "Don't worry about money, you have to finish school." Jungkook mused out loud, letting the loofah scrub across Taes chest and firm abdomen, "I'll be able to work more now."

Truth is, he wasn't entirely sure what he'd do now that he no longer could be in school; but he could figure it out. If he could make it this long by himself, he could definitely make it with the motivation of keeping Taehyung safe and happy. He'd be lying to himself if he'd say that it didn't absolutely suck that he was expelled, all his hard work thrown away for nothing. He knows if his father knew, he'd definitely shoot him a shit eating smirk followed by some disgusting comment blaming Taehyung for this.

The thought alone had Kook unknowingly clenching his jaw. This wasn't going to be easy, he knew this. But since when was anything easy for him? And with Taehyung by his side; he knew he would be okay.

#fic: Love maze #sombreboy #taekook smut #taekook series #taekook fic #vkook smut #taehyung x jungkook #mxm #bts mxm #bts smut

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reidingandwriting · 5 years ago

Text

10 Things I Hate About You (And 1 Thing I Love)

Word Count: ~2000 words

Ship: Peter Parker x Stark!Daughter, Avengers x Reader (platonic/family)

Warnings: Mild language, but that’s it!

A/N: This was so much fun to write honestly, we love fluffy chaos. It was originally going in a COMPLETELY different direction, but I decided to be nice and give you guys the fluffy version instead 😉 I attached the “10 things” list at the end in case you wanted it :)

You took a breath as you stood at the altar, hands interlocked with your fiancé Peter’s, and you began to speak.

“I hate your jokes, they’re so stupid.” Everyone in the room laughed, including Peter. “You’re the only person who could make such lame jokes funny. I especially hate that goofy laugh of yours that follows, that’s what makes the jokes tolerable. I hate that smile of yours, how it lights up the room. Seriously, it’s so bright, I need an Advil for my headache.” Peter let out a tearful laugh and your thumb brushed over his knuckles.

“I hate how hardworking you are. You built yourself up from nothing, you worked hard in everything you did. You overachiever, I look like a slacker. I hate how my family loves you and how they didn’t scare you off. Trust me, my dad tried.” Your dad called out a ‘hell yeah I did!’ which sent the small venue into laughter again. “My family’s all very guarded, but you smashed through those walls and you became like another member of the family. I hate how even my dog loves you, and he hates everyone. You can ask Dad, the day we took him off the street, he tried to bite him. He never liked anyone that I dated, until I met you.” Peter gave you a smile, which you gladly returned. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes, but you blinked them back.

“I hate how you always know how to make me laugh, you know I hate how my laugh sounds. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed this much until I met you. I hate how you always want to help everyone, even when struggling yourself. You could be out in the freezing cold, and you would give the shirt off your back to whoever needed it. You’re going to get sick or hurt doing that one day, you self sacrificing dork.”

“I hate how much you care about your friends. I won’t admit it again, but we truly are lucky to have you. Every endless day we spend with you is the best day. Except for our Harry Styles concert, nothing tops that. I hate how you’d lay down your life for your friends- you’d even do it for people who weren’t your friends. That’s just the person you are.” A few stray tears slid down your cheeks now.

“Even with all this complete and utter hatred I have for you,” your tone was playful and Peter was struggling not to cry at this point. You had told him your wedding vows would be a bit unconventional, he expected nothing less from you. You were Y/N Stark after all, being unconventional was a trademark Stark trait. “there’s one thing I love about you that cancels out all of that.”

“You made me feel like I belonged whenever so many people made me feel like I didn’t. From the second I started at Midtown, everyone treated me differently. Students and teachers were either terrified of me and what my dad could do, or they sucked up to me to get in my dad’s good graces. You treated me like I was just Y/N. Not Y/N Stark, daughter of Tony Stark, aka Iron Man. I was a regular teen with you, and I can’t thank you enough for that, Peter.” You wiped your eyes, smiling at the man you were about to marry. Your almost husband. “You introduced me to the best friends I could ever have, and you became the best boyfriend I could ever have. Boyfriend turned into fiancé, and now fiancé is about to turn into husband. These losers in the audience may be part of my family, but I can’t wait to start my own family with you. I love you, Peter Benjamin Parker.”

��I love you, Y/N Y/M/N Stark.” Peter smiled, a tear slipping down his cheek. “Now, if we’re doing the things I hate about you, let’s start with that god awful snoring.” The rest of the ceremony went on beautifully. Your dad wouldn’t admit it, but he totally cried whenever you and Peter said your “I do’s” and kissed. Meanwhile, Pepper wouldn’t let your dad forget it that he cried. Once the ceremony was finished, you moved the reception outside. Laura and Clint’s kids played with Scott’s daughter Cassie and your sister Morgan, while the adults continued the reception. The wedding was intimate, with your family of Avengers and Peter’s Aunt May and some friends of yours made up the guest list.

“I can’t believe Y/N’s married.” Natasha stood next to Tony, watching as you and Peter made your rounds with all the guests.

“Me neither.” Clint hummed in agreement, standing beside Natasha. “I remember the day I taught her to flip off the paparazzi.” Tony laughed at the memory, Pepper sending a playful glare to the archer. Tony still had the magazine in his office, the picture of you showing the camera your middle finger on the cover. You were only nine or ten at the time, you were all grown up now. You still liked to give the paparazzi your signature pose.

“How about the time she programmed FRIDAY to play that horrible Rebecca Black song every time we tried to use FRIDAY?” It was Steve’s turn to speak, and he groaned as he got the song stuck in his head again.

“Or that time she got FRIDAY to play that Black Widow song every time I entered the room?” Natasha’s face morphed into one of annoyance, but there was no real irritation behind it.

“What about the time Lady Y/N came to Asgard and made friends with Loki?” Thor remembered on your fourteenth birthday how you visited Asgard. It took endless tears and begging for your parents to agree. They finally agreed after you made a ten minute presentation, and Thor had promised to keep you safe. You loved Asgard and the people you met loved you- even Loki was fond of the young Stark. During your weekend in Asgard, you had spent equal time with the brothers. Thor gave you tours of Asgard and the castle, while Loki showed you some important spots from his childhood. You hated having to leave, but you came back every time you could. You even convinced Loki to spend more time on Earth (Midgard as he preferred to call it).

“I can’t forget about the time Tony brought in Y/N to the medbay when her hand was broken, he was hysterical. And you remember how she broke it?” Bruce looked at Tony, who rolled his eyes with a faint smirk.

“By punching that Flash kid in the face and breaking his nose.” Pepper shook her head at the memory, looking at the now grown up kids she loves. “They’ve always had each other’s backs. Now they’ve got each other forever. And they’ve got all of us.” Tony smiled as his older daughter walked over, Peter talking to his aunt. You gave everyone a hug, thanking them for coming.

“Sorry to interrupt, but it’s time for our dance, Dad.” Your dad nodded, pressing a kiss to his own wife’s cheek before walking to you.

“Let’s dance.” You lead your dad to the dance floor, your arm linked with his. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and Tony’s wrapped around your waist as you began to dance.

“I can’t believe my little girl is married now.” Tony spoke softly as you two danced, your dress sparkling under the lights as you moved. “Seems like just yesterday I held you in my arms for the first time.”

“It doesn’t feel real yet.” You hummed in agreement, looking up at your dad. “It still feels like I should be at home, having tea parties with Morgan, and giving you heart attacks with Peter.” Tony rolled his eyes, remembering how mere months ago, Tony was making a cup of coffee. You and Peter came to the lake house for Christmas, and you two were spending time with Morgan in your room.

Tony smiled as he heard the sound of laughter through the halls, until he heard a loud crash and Peter yell “shit!” which Morgan replied “that’s Mom’s word!” Tony ran to the sound, stopping at the sight. Morgan, holding your phone, stood beside Peter, who was doubled over laughing. Then he saw you, sprawled across the floor, roller skates on your feet. Pieces of shattered ceramic, dirt, flowers were surrounding you, which Tony recognized as the vase of flowers Morgan set up last week. You raised your head, looking at Morgan.

“Did you get that on video?!” You fist pumped the air as Morgan nodded, carefully getting back up. You froze when you saw your dad and looked at your fiancé and sister. “Retreat, retreat!!” You skated past your dad, Morgan and Peter following you as they laughed.

“Y/N, Morgan, and Peter! Get your asses back here and clean this up!”

“You see all these gray hairs? You caused them.” You laughed, giving your dad an award winning smile.

“We add excitement to your life.” Tony laughed, twirling you.

“And I can’t be happier that I have you two hooligans in my life.” You smiled as the song paused and everyone looked around. A familiar song started playing over the speakers, and your dad grinned. The slow song had been replaced by Mr. Brightside, one of yours and your dad’s favorite songs. The rest of the guests came to the dance floor, dancing and singing (yelling) the lyrics. The rest of the night was filled with singing, dancing, and laughter.

You stood beside Peter at the end of the night, swaying slightly as you held your sleeping sister. She was older now, but she never missed a chance for you to hold her. Your eyes traveled the room, taking in the sights around you. The rest of the kids were off by themselves, eating leftover wedding cake and drinking soda out of the champagne flutes. Ned and MJ had taken over the music, playing everything from throwbacks to today’s music, jumping around (as they’d call it, dancing) and laughing. The team of heroes were all broken out into their own groups, everyone getting along fine.

“I can’t believe this is our life.” You spoke after a minute of silence. “I remember when it was just me, my dad, and Happy. I never would’ve thought my family would grow from that group of three to all of us now.” Your eyes landed on your dad, who was laughing with the original Avengers team.

“If you would have told me in the start of high school that I was going to become an Avenger, fall in love with Tony Stark’s daughter, and join the family of the Earth’s mightiest heroes, I would think I was in a dream. And now it’s my reality. I’ve always wanted a big, happy family like this. And you gave it to me.” Peter smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. Your eyes closed, savoring the moment.

“Our family’s about to expand by one more, too.” You whispered and Peter’s jaw dropped as it clicked.

“We’re having a baby?” You nodded with a smile, laughing as Peter hugged you tight, being careful not to disturb Morgan.

“We’re having a baby. Don’t tell my dad you know, he wanted to be the first to know.” You rested your head on his shoulder and Peter’s arm made its way around your waist.

“Our child really is going to have the best family to grow up in.” As you looked at your husband, you smiled to yourself.

‘Yeah.’ You thought. ‘They really will.’

1. Your stupid jokes

2. Your laugh

3. Your smile

4. How hardworking you are

5. How much my family loves you

6. Even my dog loves you, and he doesn’t like anyone

7. How you always know how to make me laugh

8. How you always want to help everyone

9. How much you care about your friends

10. And how you’d lay down your life for them

11. And how you made me feel normal

Taglist: @daughter-of-stark @agent-barnes40 @spideygirl2003 @ditttiii 💖 Taglist is OPEN, please let me know if you’d like to be added. Requests are also OPEN, feel free to make requests :)

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 4 years ago

Text

The Table is Prepared for You

Luke’s spent too much time alone and knows he shouldn’t let anyone get too close. However, Dinah’s the one time that Luke lets his guard down--and he knows he can’t do it again.

Vampire!Luke. Black!OC. Here it is, 14k words!

CW: Death/Near Death.

Enjoy my masterlist.

You can support me on kofi

Shout out to @notinthesameguey for this moodboard (below), well before any of this was finished.

(Dinah’s hair is curly like in the first board, in case there’s any confusion!)

Inspired by: Godspeed James Blake’s Cover and Kill My Time by 5 Seconds of Summer

_______________________________________

The snow is wet under his boots and he almost wishes he could feel just how cold it is cutting beneath the leather jacket. Instead, he feels nothing but the slight crisp wisp of wind against his nose. If his body still pumped warm, he’s sure the tip of his nose would be bright red. Quickly, Luke tucks the curls whipping in the wind behind his ear and keeps his gaze trained on the constantly lapping sea the people--folks crossing the streets, cars blaring by, people brushing past him as they carry on from their subway rides back to the surface.

“Hey!” Luke’s learned from spending time in this city, in all its evolution, just to keep walking. Whoever’s attention needs to be grabbed will either be grabbed or be missed. “Seriously, excuse me!”

Fingers brush over Luke’s jacket and though initially he wants to bristle at the touch, Luke reminds himself it’s dead of winter. No one’s going to be alarmed. Turning, Luke walks himself to the edge of the sidewalk, mostly out of the way. “Me?” he asks.

The young man in front of him is doubled down in the puffy winter coat--down to his knees-- and a gray beanie. Posed in the ungloved fingers is a camera. The boy lifts up the camera, as if that will explain everything. “I-I’m working on my portfolio. I was wondering if I could shoot you right quick. Right here, doesn’t have to be somewhere fancy.”

Luke shakes his head and before he can speak, the young man continues. “I swear, I’m a photography student. I’m so close to down, deadlines right before break. Please, man. You’d be perfect. The whole thing’s about ordinary people. I shoot a few pictures. A quick five minute interview and then, you go on your merry way. Ain’t looking for trouble.”

It’s the backpack, the earnest and pleading look that pulls down the younger man’s brows. His nose is pink, fingers and hands ducking quickly into his coat pockets. “I don’t think you’re looking for trouble. I just--I don’t think I photograph well,” Luke returns, squinting his eyes at the reflection of the sun off the fresh snow.

“Dude, take it from me, you’ve got looks. And all it would take is just the right angles, right about light exposure. Today’s a little hit or miss.”

The sky’s pretty cloudy but every so often there’s a fleck of a sunshine and Luke does his best to avoid it. The snow clouds will be leaving soon and that means Luke should be too. And it’s probably dumb to say that leaving New York is hard, the memories that are linked here. But it almost feels like home--if he could remember what home really feels like.

Luke bites down onto his lip, head still shaking. Maybe the shaking will loosen the memories and bring them back to the surface. Maybe the shake will deter the young man’s insistence. Luke doesn’t really know how he photographs, don’t remember the last time he’s seen himself, as whole, as fully a being. Besides, Luke shouldn’t be photographed. No one’s seen him in a couple hundred years and Luke needs it to say that way, needs to continue under the radar. Not that anyone that would have a vendetta against him wouldn’t be able to find him away. The world’s really only so big in the grand scheme of things--there are only so many continents and so many countries, and so many corners to hide in the world.

Looking over the streets, Luke almost laughs at how he picked one of the busiest and most densely populated places to hang out for a while. Maybe it’s because with so many people around there’s no way anyone would pick him out of a crowd. Until now, until some kid stopped him on the fucking street.

“Just for your class?” Luke asks, flicking his squinted gaze back to the man. The wind’s picked up again and he’s facing into it, harshly. It’s nearly drying his eyes out.

“Yeah, just for my class. Look,” he says, pulling out his phone. His fingers look an unhealthy color, like they’re tittering on too pink to be okay.

“How long you been out here?” It’s a soft question that nearly gets swept up into the gust of wind that passes.

“Couple of hours. Class starts around 1 and I need this last shoot as soon as possible.” He holds out the phone. Luke takes it, scrolling through the webpage. It’s a sleek design, each photoshoot highlighted by one picture. When Luke tapes onto it, it takes a second to load and then more pop up. There’s a quick paragraph, maybe two, and the rest of the photos.

“Where should I pose?” Luke asks, handing the phone back over. Luke will be gone soon anyway and they can’t really stand to be out in the cold for much longer anyway.

“Wait, seriously?”

With a nod, Luke tucks more hair back and is quick to place his fingers back into his pockets. “Yeah, just tell me where.”

The young man looks around for a second, the backpack hitting the pole of the street sign. Luke winches, hoping there’s no expensive equipment in the bag. “Over here,” he says with a nod over to the corner. He starts to push through the stream and Luke follows behind him. They pause under some stairs, most likely the fire escape for an apartment complex. “Look over your shoulder for me right quick.”

Luke keeps his body pointed to the man and then looks over his shoulder for a second. “Like this?”

“Perfect. How long have you lived in the city?”

Luke shrugs, turning his attention back to the man. He inhales with a hiss, trying to think. “Couple years? Maybe three. Feels so long and it’s really not.” Luke chuckles, ducking his head for a moment. “God, my memory’s shit.” Luke thinks he hears the shutter go off but he’s not sure.

“No, I feel you on that. I moved back for school and somehow time doesn’t feel quite the same here in the city. You in the city for modeling?”

Luke feels the shock raising his brows. “Me? Modeling?” A small laugh escapes him, mostly in sarcasm. “No, no, just have some family here. Moved from Delaware. Just seeing where life takes me, I guess.” Luke combs his fingers through his hair, pushing it all back. What he needs is a haircut, and to probably get a move on that whole finishing his trek up north. Life’s taken him plenty of places before and now it feels less like living and more like visiting. It’s going back to all those places from before and wondering how long could a life actually feel.

“So you just float? Taking you wherever the wind blows?”

It’s only at the question that Luke realizes he hasn’t dropped his hands from his hair. “Yeah, yeah,” he says, dropping his hands. “It’s just easier. In some ways. Like I don’t really have to think too much--just find a job that pays well enough, experience what there is to experience and then, when it’s all said and done, just move on.”

“Guess you’ve learned to pack light, huh?”

Luke grins, a bit of laughter escaping him. “You could say that.” It’s not even light. It’s like having nothing. There’s the essentials of course, some special pieces that have been accrued along the way, but nothing with real weight besides memories. And even those fade eventually. He remembers certain things, important things. Like his mother’s face, or the way his brother would tease him sometimes. But he can’t remember where he grew up, not completely, just hazy rewatchings when he closes his eyes for a moment's rest.

“What about you?” Luke asks, absentmindedly reaching up to the bottom of the stairs above his head. “You said you moved back here?”

“Yeah, I was born here. Family moved to Virginia and then I moved back. Missed it here.” There’s another shutter of the camera. “So you taking stuffy office jobs? Chasing a passion? You’re a traveler, nonetheless.”

“Odd jobs--mostly night shifts. This city never sleeps and it’s almost better to be awake when mostly everyone else is asleep. Feel less judged.” Right now he was working in the hospital. And though, it wasn’t always easy on him, he enjoyed it.

“I don’t think anyone’s judging you too harshly. Probably most likely out of envy.”

“Thanks,” Luke says with an awkward chuckle. “Guess I’m still awkward. Unsure of myself.” And it’s easy to be unsure when you’ve seen nearly 150 years on the earth, like what else can you do? What else is there to do besides just float?

“I’ve wondered if it’ll ever go away,” the young man says, pulling down the camera from his face. “Will we ever be sure of ourselves?”

Luke nods, pondering the thought. “The one thing I’m sure of is that every choice I’ve made, I made for a reason. Like even if it doesn’t make sense to anyone else, I had a reason. And I hope you-you feel that way eventually. Every choice made had a reason behind it.”

“That’s kind of comforting. Like, I’m not making choices on guess, I’ve got a reason for it.”

“Yeah.” There’s a small lull and Luke looks back to the sky. The clouds look like they’re about to part. “Are-are we good? Got what you need?”

The man nods. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks. What’s your name by the way?”

“Luke. Yours?”

“Andrew. Um--” There’s a moment's pause and Andrew reaches into his pockets again. He pulls out a piece of paper and finds a pen from the pocket of his bag. “I’ll write down the name of the site. The pictures will be up by the end of the week.”

Luke takes the paper with a nod. “I look forward to seeing them.” He pockets the note and says goodbye. He’s quick in his strides to correct course back to the subway entrance and bounces down the stairs. He winds down the tunnel and finds his yellow card in his wallet. The swipe is quick as the light turns green for him to pass through.

It’s only as his boots click against the concrete and they echo, that Luke looks at the murals, the way the eyes follow his journey. It’s not regret that settles into his gut. He doesn’t regret stopping to help Andrew. Luke hopes that Andrew is somewhere warm or on his way to somewhere warm in all honesty. But maybe what bugs Luke is that he has plans. He had plans to linger in New York for at least another six months before moving again. His last visit in Delaware had lasted nearly two years and in all truth, it was nice to settle in somewhere. But Luke knew if he got too settled in, he was going to run the risk of getting comfortable. There was a guy he had started talking to. They guy always come in late to the gym and they’d talk for a while as Luke wiped down the gym equipment. That was Luke’s sign to get out of dodge, to try and start over.

Sure, Luke had his degrees. He had done the whole career thing. The only thing about that is building a legacy--having a face plastered somewhere so he did his ten years or so and then slipped from the grid. Went back to school, took classes in a smattering of things that weren’t related but interested him. Sure there were better things to do than work nights at gyms, or do the late shift at a theater, or wipe down dorms at colleges, but it kept him anonymous.

Now Luke would mostly likely not be anonymous for much longer. Who knows what could happen once those pictures get posted. And Luke really couldn’t risk staying in town too much longer to find out either. So the eyes follow him, but he won’t be around for a long while. Luke hopes that they remember well. He’s sure the next time he comes back around those murals will look different, there will be more other faces to watch him click his boots to the train.

The eyes do eventually become real. Sitting in the hospital, listening to the constant keep of the heart monitors, Luke knows almost immediately people are watching him. “Going a different route than the scrubs, Hemmings.”

Luke looks up from his cup of coffee, brows pulling into each other. It’s one of the pediatric nurses, Lucy. “I’m sorry?” he laughs.

She holds out her phone. The night is chilly and both of them should be wearing jackets. But there’s no use anyway. Luke knows he’s got to get back to the second floor and help get some rooms ready. Lucy could be paged at any second. “When I was grabbing my nutritious honey bun, your face popped up on my timeline.”

Luke takes the device and sees his photos, hand buried his hair as he’s posed underneath the stairwells. It is a great photo if Luke’s going to be honest. The exposure is just right even if it was a little cloudy that day and a quick skim through the paraphy tells him Andrew got a lot more from Luke than just an awkward conversation with lines like, There’s an uncertainty, an air of hyper self awareness to him. But through it all, there’s a caring heart and the want to settle--maybe that’s what we all share, a yearning for something, no matter what it is. We are wanting people. I don’t know what Luke wants; I can’t even fathom a guess. But I do know that I want him to know that he’s compassion doesn’t go unnoticed and even though it didn’t seem like I would get this project finished, I appreciate his willingness to help a stranger.

“Andrew--he needed some help with his portfolio for photography school.”

“I keep telling you with a heart of gold and looks to kill you shouldn’t be changing bed sheets and dumping stool,” Lucy says, taking her phone back. The air’s cut by the crinkle of her plastic wrapping, her teeth sink into the icing and sweet dough.

“It’s not all bad,” he counters, sipping his cup once again. “Last week, the older woman on floor 5, that kept saying she was going to bake for everyone--you hear about her?” Lucy nods, a soft hum coming from her. “She sent me flowers. Said I had the neatest sheet tuck she had ever seen. It’s not all bad.” Luke omits the times he sat up with her, fetching her water when her kids had to leave or when she just wanted a chat later in the evenings, he stopped to chat with her.

“You getting sweet with the older woman, I see? Tell me, trying to get into a will?”

Barely managing to keep the sip of coffee in his mouth, Luke covers his mouth with a hand. His amusement wrinkles his nose and as the sip goes down, he lets his laughter erupt from him in the squeaks. “No, not at all.”

Lucy shrugs, her ponytail starting to fall just a little. “Look all I’m saying is you got in good with an older woman--she’d get you straight. No more sheet tucking for you.”

Luke takes her snack so she can readjust the hair tie. “When I start to really struggle, I’ll consider it,” the sentence falls with the tail end of some giggles. Silence settles back around them cut by the sips and crinkles and inevitably a pager, Lucy’s signal to twirl back into her Wonder Woman suit.

“One of these days, I’ll be able to finish a snack. Want the rest?”

“No thanks. Gotta keep my figure now,” Luke teases.

The half honeybun lands into the trash with an echoing thud and Lucy rushes back through the side doors but not before throwing over her shoulder, “You’re figure is fine. The older woman would kill to plumpen you up anyway.” Luke doesn’t doubt that. His own mother would also heap his plates with seconds, even if he didn’t ever ask for them.

The morning sky hasn’t fully cracked open yet when Luke finally gets to leave, his own jacket tucking away the seafoam green color of his scrubs. There’s usually not too much life happening as he’s leaving. The end of this shit doesn’t feel much different than the others. However, in the ten minute shuffle to the subway, Luke doesn’t miss the lingering glances. Even as his body jostles with the not completely steady rattle of the train, he can feel eyes on him.

He keeps his head down. If he doesn’t give in, the stares aren’t real. But one less stop from his neighborhood, he risks a glance up. A few heads turn away, but a couple people continue to gaze at him. He wonders if it’s the dirty blonde of his hair, or his pointed nose that seems to be holding their attention. The train lurches to a stop, doors hissing as they open. Only a handful of people step onto the train and their presence cuts the tension of recognition for a moment. Though Luke fears that that tension will haunt him.

The sun cuts through the skies just as Luke fetches his keys from his pocket and scurries inside his complex. Waiting for the tiny apartment’s elevator to open, Luke knows he has to get out of town and soon while he’s at it. His job can replace him. He can tell them anything, and be gone within the day. As the elevator takes him up, Luke’s already drafting the email to his landlord about his unfortunate rushed exit.

By the setting of the sun, Luke’s apartment is packed up into his two suitcases and duffle bag. He rolls his bags behind him as his boots click on the concrete. The murals watch him traveling down their corridors and Luke’s hoping they memorize the way he looks, because this is their last meeting. As the walls of concrete whizz by, Luke keeps his eyes trained to the ground. He’s not entirely sure where he’s going from here. Luke had planned to continue up and cross the border into Canada. But that plan relied on a little bit more time, smuggling his belongings across the lines well before he planned on jetting.

It’s okay though. In the night, he can still get across. As the train comes to its stop, Luke thinks he has to get off eventually. And this stop is as good as any. So he climbs to the surface. He’s not too far from the bus terminals and he knows the airports not too far either. But he can’t fly, or he shouldn’t fly. It’s only as he gazes over the neon lights lighting up the darkening sky, that the craving hits him.

Coffee, as well as tea, are one of the few things from his previous life that Luke still craves. It’s much more about the taste that soothes him. That and it’s easy to fake being warm with a piping hot cup of coffee or tea in his hands. Luke notices a small diner, just as two people exit from it. He’s heard about the place, hasn’t gone in just yet but maybe he ought to now and buy himself some time on his next move--he needs a paper trail, even if it goes cold.

Inside the diner is bright, a little cramped in the way of seating. “Booth or counter?” the hostess asks.

“Booth,” Luke returns and follows as she waves for him. The red accents do a number to date the place but it’s well kept for how long it seems to have been around. Sinking into the squeaky leather, Luke thanks the hostess for the menu.

“Anything I can start you with?”

“Coffee. Cream and sugar.”

She nods. “Water too?”

“Uh, yeah, thanks.” The menu reminds Luke that he wishes, deeply, that his appetite hadn’t left him. He can eat food and does, time to time, but on the whole, nothing is quite as satisfying anymore. It’s the plate of fries that Luke keeps eyes, even as the mug and glass are placed.

“Need more time with that menu?”

“Yes, please.” Then it’s just Luke once again, eying that plate of fries and knowing that even if he does get it, he won’t get more than a few down before his stomach clenches.

“Let me guess.” Luke knows that voice. Though, it’s been nearly sixty years since he’s heard it. “It wasn’t me, it was you.”

“Dinah,” Luke breathes out, unsure if his eyes are actually seeing what he thinks they are taking in.

She grins, hair just as curly and large as it was the last time he saw her. And the more Luke gazes at her, the more he notices, not much has changed about her. Her skin is still tanned. Her eyes still crinkle just a little in the smile. “It’s been, a long time,” Luke starts, unsure of how to phrase the question.

“Got space for one more?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” Luke waves to the seat opposite of him and she slips into the booth, the leather squeaking underneath her weight too. Luke’s looking for any sign of the time’s that past--a wrinkle, bags under the eyes, anything. But all he sees is Dinah, when she was 28. It’s the same Dinah that would get up during karaoke and belt out songs like she was the one recording it in a studio. It’s the same Dinah that he walked back to her place after an impromptu meeting, and though coffee at her place sounded innocuous, he knew then what that twinkle in her eye meant.

“Shocked to see you here. Coming or going?”

“Leaving, actually.”

“Funny how life works.”

Luke furrows his brow, head cocking to the side. “What do you mean?”

“Just got into town. Thought it would be nice to have a familiar face to show me around.” Her gaze, behind the dark brown eyes, is heavy. Her fingers play at the corner of the napkin box.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. Wait--did you know I was here?”

“The internet is quite literally the world wide web,” Dinah chuckles.

The photos. She must’ve seen them. And even if she had seen then, how did she get to New York so fast? Why would she even be looking for him? “That it is,” Luke agrees, carefully stirring the steaming drink in front of him. He can’t get over how she hasn’t aged at all. There’s nothing. She doesn’t even seem to be walking with a limp or have difficulty sitting down. As if she had somehow frozen herself in time.

There was no way though. Who would’ve turned her? It hadn’t been him. And Luke hadn’t heard anything about attacks on human in a long time. Was Dinah not even human when they met? Was she something else? Before Luke can think of his next question, the waitress comes back. “How’s that menu looking?”

“Great,” Dinah returns. “Just a plate of fries.” There’s not even a blink of shock at the order and soon, it’s just Luke and Dinah again.

“So, how--what have you been up to?”

Dinah shrugs. “Not much. Still singing, making ends meet. What about you?”

“Just making it really.”

“Still bouncing around, huh?”

Luke nods. “Yeah, you know me. Can’t stay in one place too long.”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember.” The sentence comes out heavy, the end of it tilting up just a little in anger, maybe it’s resentment.

Luke knew he shouldn’t have gone in for coffee. He knew what Dinah was looking for, what she was hoping to get. Luke liked to blame it on the fact that he hasn’t properly eaten in a while. He blamed that for his clouded judgement. The truth of the matter is that Luke wanted more out of it too. He wanted to sip on their mugs, at the dining room table. He wanted to move to the couch too. He wanted to give in. But he knew he couldn’t. The moment she got in too close, the moment he didn’t have that mug warming his hands--it would be all over for him.

“It wasn’t because of you,” Luke counters. “My leaving wasn’t because of something you did.”

Dinah exhales, but nods. The plate of fries is placed between them and they smile up at the hostess, watching her disappear towards the counter to wrap more silverware. Dinah picks up a fry and munches on it, eyes lifted up and away.

“You know,” she says after swallowing the bite. Her hands stretch out across the table. Instinctively, Luke pulls his hands back, attempting to duck them under the table. But she’s just as fast, if not faster and before Luke can get his hands safely out of her each, her fingers are pressed into his skin. “I always wondered what that would’ve felt like.”

She should be seeping warmth into him. She should be pulling her hand back and hissing at how cold his skin is, but instead, all Luke can feel is the weight of her fingers. How she’s pressing into his forearms and there’s actual pressure to it. “No,” Luke whispers, snapping his head up to look at her.

Dinah’s eyes are locked in on how her hands looked wrapped around the leather jacket. Luke curls his hands around her exposed wrists. “A lot’s happened since the last time we met, if I’m honest,” she says. It’s only as they lock gazes that Luke knows. Even if she doesn’t ever say the word--Luke knows the truth.

“Are you close by?” Luke asks.

“All I have right now is my car. But I was looking to book a room for the night.” Dinah finishes the sentences with another handful of fries. It’s not enough of a dent to be believable, so Luke goes in for a handful too and the second the salt hits his tongue, his throat wants to close up, wants to tell him that this is not the thing it wanted. But he knows he can get it down.

They split the cost of the ticket and then Luke follows her towards her car. He can’t shake the feel of how she was actually able to press into his skin and it felt like something. It didn’t hurt, but it was real. When he left her that night, sixty years ago, she was warm. Her blood pumped in her veins and Luke had to swallow down every urge to run his tongue over her neck, let his teeth graze her skin just to feel the quickened pulse.

Dinah’s trunk is full with her own bags. However, Luke is able to squeeze in the bigger suitcase into the trunk before he slips the last two into the backseat. Before Dinah can even turn the key over in the ignition, Luke’s grabbing her hands again. She doesn’t pull back. Doesn’t hiss. “Either I’m insane or I’ve finally croaked.”

Dinah chuckles, slipping her hands from his. “Last time I checked, it took a hell of a lot to kill a vampire.”

Luke stares at her profile, if he had a heart to race it would be right now. Who changed her? What had Dinah gotten herself into to wind up like him? Luke runs the tips of his fingers along her jaw and then down to her neck. And there’s nothing. Much like him. No steady thrum just below the surface of the skin, no blood pumping in their veins. He presses down, nails into her skin and he’s met with some resistance. “Holy shit.”

Luke’s only ever run into other vampires in hunts, or when new floaters happen to cross into the town he’s lingering about in. Most of the time, they only pass each other with a nod of recognition. It’s a simple act, let’s them both know there’s no trouble and keeps the number of enemies low. Luke’s never had many of those. Once or twice a vampire would come down after him about territory and he’s never really fought anyone about that. There was always a way to hang out and not cross any lines. Though, Luke hadn’t run across anyone else like him in at least 45 years. It had always been a lonely existence, but it was made exceptionally isolating when Luke felt like he was the only one on the fucking planet like this. Part of him is happy that Dinah found him. He’s relieved to know that he doesn’t walk about the living as the only living dead.

“What happened?”

“Now ain’t that the million dollar question.” The car finally rumbles to life and the radio plays softly, an old school jazz station. “First, though, where are we headed? You know New York better than I do.”

Luke nods, exhaling. If she doesn’t want to talk about it right now, then he won’t push it. He glances out of the window and rattles off directions to a hotel that isn’t too far from them. And not too far from that is a motel just in case the first option doesn’t work. Dinah’s silent the rest of the drive. It wouldn’t be so bad if the drive took the five minutes it was supposed to take in theory. However, the lights catch them often and they sit idle, in silence, knowing something brews beneath the surface but never acknowledging it fully.

Could have Dinah been looking for him long? Considering she hadn’t seemed to age past what she looked like sixty years ago, she definitely had to have been turned soon after Luke left. The questions all build on his tongue but he only directs her down the blocks, only lets keep straight, or make this right escape his mouth. When they pull up to the hotel, and see it bustling with folks, Luke thinks about Dinah. Had she built up a tolerance to being around humans yet? She’s still relatively young in the life span of a vampire and Luke wondered if this many people around would be setting her up for failure.

“We can go somewhere else,” Luke suggests. “I can check us in and you can just wait in the car until I get the keys.”

“I’m okay,” Dinah returns, brows pulled together. “Are you comfortable?”

“No, I was-I was just thinking about you that’s all.”

Dinah shrugs, grabbing a backpack from back behind the driver seat and Luke pulls out his own duffle bag. Dinah’s gait is a little fast, not too fast that it looks completely unnatural. But seeing her still learning, or relearning everything she once was so good at, makes Luke smile. The learning curve isn’t a smooth turn. There are a lot of mistakes. Not blinking enough, having to make sure you’re seen eating, or something, keeping as warm as you can. Luke’s learned some tricks, hand warmers in his pockets, holding onto thermos with hot tea. Being seen in the day just enough that no one suspects anything but not bouncing about in sunlight for too long.

It’s only in the elevator, as a few more people climb in and Luke and Dinah scoot closer together, hands brushing again that Luke thinks about what she said in the diner. I’ve always wondered what that would’ve felt like. How did she know Luke was like her? The elevator stops and a family gets off. Luke reaches forward and hits for the top floor. Dinah looks up to him, brows furrowing together.

He shouldn’t have given into her so easily back at the diner. He should’ve stayed their longer and asked her more questions. He should’ve investigated more about what she was doing in New York. He shouldn’t have thought about they way she felt, gently brushing up against his shoulder on their walk up to her place. He shouldn’t have thought about the way she looked at him. Memories were deadly. He found Dinah at a bar. He was playing with a band at the time. Nothing too big, just enough to pay his rent in LA. But back then, it was about the love of the thing and not how much money could be attained. She was performing at the open mic night. It was just her and her ukulele but she played it so well, her heavy voice echoing around the bar. She has vocals too big, too bright, too smooth to be captured into four walls. Luke went up to compliment her, just to let her know that he recognized her talent. He wasn’t often one to go up to people. But by then he had spent almost a hundred years on the planet and hiding away in forests was getting exhausting. Luke took his venturing out to the humans slow and steady before finding his comfort level.

And it doesn’t even help now that he’s remembering the way she called him just to talk and how they walked the beach late that night before she drove both of them back to her place. Her hair blew in the breeze off the salt water and she smelt like strawberries with a hint of something else, that at the time he hadn’t been able to place, but found it out to be a kind of hair grease. He can smell it now, as she stands next to him.

The level their room is on finally comes up but neither one of them steps off. Instead they let the doors close and carry up to the top. Once on the top floor, they take a step off and Dinah waits. If they wanted to get onto the roof they’d have to find a staircase and fast before someone just sees them standing about and not heading to a room. Luke peels off the left and she follows, pushing her back up higher on her shoulder. She is silent as she follows and thankfully, at the right turn at the end of the hallway they’re met the stairs. Up they go, and even the locked door, it does not remain locked. The night looks different up this high--they’re closer to the stars, or what would be stars but are more than likely just the lights reflecting off the city below.

“Who sent you? And what do they want?”

“No one sent me, Luke. What’s going on?”

“No one knows. I haven’t told a soul what I am. But you know. I didn’t leave you a note when I left. So how do you know? Are they using you as a lure to get to me?”

Dinah stares up to the sky, trying to keep the tears at bay. Her throat seizes for a moment. “You left. And I went looking, hanging out at the bars we used to go. I couldn’t find you. So I asked a couple folks around. And I fucking asked the wrong questions, I guess. Or maybe I was asking the wrong folks.”

Wrong questions? What wrong questions could she have been asking? Luke didn’t keep close to anyone. Or he tried not to at least. He wasn’t always good at it. Seeing as Dinah’s standing in front of him right now. Luke wants to take a step forward. He wants to give into her. Her gaze hasn’t dropped from the skies and he can see the way her throat constantly works, as if tears are produced in the throat, as if that will keep her from crying. “Who were you talking to? What are you talking about? You sure it’s not the council?”

Dinah shakes her head. “No one’s after you Luke. But me. I could’ve given you up. I could’ve let you be, but I couldn’t. Not after what happened.”

“That’s the thing, nothing happened Dinah. As much as I wanted to, as much as I thought about it, nothing happened that night.”

She shakes her head, lips pushed together into a tight line. “No, you left and I thought it was weird and I wanted to be angry with you. But most of all, I was confused. I wanted to know why had left. And damn, it wasn’t like you left that night and I ran into two weeks later. You completely disappeared. No one at the bar knew where you went. I talked to the guys that were in your band. Two of them had not a clue where you had gone and they were pissed, but they moved on. Mike talked to me later, told me I should just let the whole thing go. He kept saying I was eventually going to bark up the wrong tree at the right time.”

“Mike?” Luke questions. Mike was always a little out there, that was undeniable. He was deep into his history and deep into the supernatural. But not in any sort of way that made Luke super suspicious of him.

Dinah nods. “Yeah, he left before I really as him what he was going on about and when I called him the next day, I got no answer. Didn’t shock me. But then the rest of the band noticed Mike had just turned up missing. Mike and I--we started hanging out more. Even though I thought it was a little strange at first, he was definitely still sweet. That didn’t sit well with me. I waited for a little bit, then made a police report. And I don’t know. Maybe that’s what tipped the scales. Or maybe the scales were tipped from the start. I’m leaving the bar one night after a show, the rest of my group’s left already. But I hung back to watch the last few people play. And these two guys keep buying me drinks. I took the first one, just to be polite and they were kinda cute.

“One drinks turns into two. Two drinks turns into them approaching me. They ask me about my music; it all seems fine. We have good conversation. They leave the bar before me. They fucking left! That’s what will never fail to get me. They fucking left and halfway to my place. I get the feeling that I’m being followed. I don’t see anyone behind me. But I’ve always trusted my gut. So I start picking up the pace a little and I round the corner. Run into the same two guys before the bar. We chat for just a little bit longer. I keep fidgeting because I can’t see if anyone’s behind me. Everyone seems not suspicious. They offer to walk me home.”

“They were following you,” Luke deduces. “And they cut you off after they realized you were picking up on them to make it seem like a big whole coincidence.”

“Yeah. We walked and they asked me some questions about who I knew out in L.A. They were new in town and were trying to get their footing. So I was telling them about my band, and I mentioned Mike and your band. Never mentioned your name. Didn’t even want to utter it, or think about it. But just that small connection was the tiny piece. We got to my place and I was getting ready to tell them goodnight when one of them hauled me inside. He was really cold to the touch. I tried to fight back but, it wasn’t even like anything I did affected them. They kept asking me about you and if I knew. I didn’t know what they were on about. I was like, the guy up and left me and his friends, don’t know anymore than that.

“They kept saying I had to know something Mike knew a lot, gave it all up very quickly. The other one kept smelling my hair and neck and I could feel how sharp his teeth were. I told them I didn’t want to die. I would give them anything they wanted, I just didn’t want to die.” She can see the sinister gleam to their eyes, even now. They way they looked at each other, sharing the same thought. All Dinah knew is that she’d do whatever not to die.

“They were from counsel? The two guys?”

“Don’t really know for certain. I haven’t seen them since, though I went looking. They tortured me. Small bits along my arms and legs, saying that I would tell them everything I knew. And they warned me that others that caught wind of my explorations wouldn’t be so generous. But all I really remember is just how my body felt like it was going cold but also every nerve ending felt like it was being stabbed, over and over and over again. I think I blacked out once or twice from the pain. I remember small bits of them arguing and then I woke up later in a shallow grave.”

“They buried you?”

“Guess so. I’m not really sure what happened but I think I was carried when I heard them bickering. And when I came too, my arms were crossed over my chest. I could feel things crawling on me. First thought was I was in a sewer or something, but then things felt kinda loose. Stuff was in my nose and it smelled earthy. I panicked at first but it didn’t take me too much longer before I clawed my way out, realizing I had been buried.”

“So what did they want with you that had to do with me? Do you know who council is or what it is?”

Dinah nods. “I know who they are.”

It’s a fact, cold as it falls from her lips. Luke gazes at her, the way she blinks rapidly. His body is carrying his forward. One step, then another and soon, he’s closed the gap between them. He takes her hand, thumb stroking at her knuckles. “Hey, it’s alright.”

A harsh exhale leaves her, a scoff--it carries all the pain she’s yet to utter. Luke hears how heavy it is. Dinah finally brings her gaze to Luke’s face. The piercing blue eyes and button nose. It shocked her initially. When she saw his picture pop up on her social media. He hadn’t aged a day, it was as if someone had found a way into her memory of Luke and perfectly recreate it.

Dinah holds a steady gaze as she talks. “Council were the ones that found me. I stayed out in the woods. I didn’t know what had happened to me, but I knew it wasn’t good. And I wanted to cry, but it hurt too damn much. Being in the sun hurt. I was in pain, and I couldn’t tell what would ease it. In the day, I had to find ways to hide, tucked into trees, finding tiny caves or places to hide. Some hikers came by. I smelled them. And I knew, or at least I figured what it might be, what I might’ve turned into.

“Council found me. Apparently, there aren’t many of us hanging around the parts of LA. They were coming into town anyway to see how the rest of us were holding up, behaving. They caught the two that tortured and turned me. They were trackers of the council. Only sent out to sniff out the town. They found Mike, tracked him down. They found me. Apparently, they had actually killed Mike, but not me.”

Luke always knew those guys were getting older and possibly dead. He tried not to linger too much in the past. He didn’t read obituaries. He didn’t even halfway have social media. Luke liked to think that they would always be able to grow old though. That they would always have the one experience he did not, they could live a life. They could settle down. They could see children grow up and have grandchildren, even great grandchildren. Luke was stuck, permanently.

“Fuck, not Mike.” Mike--well, he was Mike. In all his eccenteries, he was still a good guy, he had been planning on asking this girl that he had been seeing to take a step up in their relationship. Or that’s what Luke last remembers. Luke pictured Mike married, a house full of dogs, maybe a couple kids. That idea suited Mike, who liked the calmer things in life. It still guts Luke though, shoulders sagging. He turns away, looking out over the city. God, Mike dead such a horrific death--terrified and unsure of what was happening to him or why he was the one targeted. And if Luke had just kept to himself, if Luke hadn’t been so fucking cursed to be lonely.

“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news,” Dinah says.

Luke shakes his head. “No, don’t be sorry. I’m-I’m the one’s that sorry.” There’s a silent pause. “Fuck,” he exhales again. “I-I didn’t mean for any of that to happen. Not you and not Mike either.” He can feel his own fingers starting to tremble now. He should’ve stuck around in town. He could’ve intercepted the trackers and told them that Dinah and Mike weren’t aware of anything, that they were just people living lives in all it’s boringness sometimes.

“God,” Luke croaks. “I am so fucking sorry. I should’ve stuck around. I could-I could’ve saved Mike and you.”

Dinah grabs onto his shoulders, though she’s always been a good head shorter than Luke, she does her best. It’s more shoulder blade and back than shoulder. She wants to tell him she doesn’t blame him. Well, at least not now. Before she did. Before she was angry. Before she dreamed of being able to confront Luke and rip him a new asshole. She wanted to know why he left and because he left, it left her like this--not dead but not alive either.

And sure, there’s still some anger. Sure, Dinah wants answers. Most of all, she just wants connection. She has spent the last sixty years, in and out of jobs, mostly holed up, always bouncing from town to town. She was terrified to get too close. But loneliness is heavy. It made her shoulders ache and if she could lay in bed and sleep days, months, years away, she would. Because it was better than walking through this life, if that’s the word to use, alone.

Luke escaped her house, exiting through her own front doors as she went to the restroom and vanished. Dinah hadn’t always planned on tracking Luke down. The council took her in for a couple of decades. She learned the rules and the laws of this new version of herself. But council wasn’t the greatest company. They were too busy giving into every desire, too busy attempting to rule people, and at the time she was merely a servant role. She listened in on meetings, waiting for one of them to ask for a refill of their glass or to fetch a live drinking fountain, as they liked to call humans. And Dinah knew she couldn’t stay there forever. They let her go with ease, surprisingly. Though she has to check in every once and a while. They told her that they were family, and family always checked in on each other.

It didn’t feel like family, but it was something and almost every decade or so, Dinah would think about going back. When she first got back out into the world, she had to figure out how to lay low, make some money to get by in the world, but not stick around for too long that suspicion would be raised. That’s when Luke came back to her, that’s when she realized all the things she wanted previously, the house and the husband, and the kids were something she’d never be able to achieve.

“I was angry for a long time,” Dinah says. “And I don’t know. Call it stubbornness and stupidity, call it having all the time in the fucking world, but I knew I’d find you. I knew I could finally get some answers.”

There’s nothing malicious in her touch. It’s a soft presence, even as she slides her down his back and then it’s gone. They’re standing side by side. “I’ll answer any questions you have.” It’s the least he can do, after everything that has happened. It won’t feel like enough. Even as Luke lets the promise cross his lips, it’s not enough for the amount of years she’s spent hurt and confused, and angry.

“We did pay for a room, so no sense in not using it, don’t you think?” Dinah offers. If she’s honest, she still doesn’t trust the night all too much. Some nights, ones that are too pretty and too serene, make her tense. She knows it’s fear—it’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. She still watches over her shoulder. The thing that she can only really be herself in is the same thing that strikes fear into her.

They climb back through the stairs and into the elevator in silence. It’s a little tense, Luke can feel it pressing onto him through the jacket. What questions does she have? Surely, waking up realizing that you’re not dead but not who you used to be is not an easy thing to discover. And surely, there’s part of terror that won’t be leaving her anytime soon. What counselor would be prepared for that either? Luke thought about seeing one. But it never seemed to be a fruitful thought.

The light on the door lights up green as Dinah holds the card to the reader and the gears click. All Luke notices though is the tight line her shoulders are in and the way she’s fast to click the lights on. The door closes with a heavy thud, gears clicking back into place. “What do you want to know?” Luke asks, letting his bag dropping on the left side of the bed.

Dinah takes a seat at the chair in front of the desk. “When you left that night, did you know? About the trackers, about council coming into town?”

Luke shakes his head. “Didn’t have a clue.”

Then it crosses her face, the piece of the puzzle that’s just never click for her. If Luke did know about the trackers and did leave to be avoided, it would make sense. If Luke was attempting to cover his own ass, and Dinah just happened to be in the crosshairs, it would suck, it wouldn’t make her happy, but it would finally make everything make sense. “So why the hell did you leave?”

Luke sighs, staring at the gray and green in the carpet of the floor. His brain’s telling him to say, had to. “I couldn’t stay in town.”

“But you just said that you didn’t know about the trackers!” Dinah pops up from the chair. Even though it’s a good six feet between them, she covers them before Luke can look up from the floor. Her finger pressed into his chest. “You just said that.”

Luke nods. “I-I know. I mean--” Is he about to tell her the truth? Won’t it sound silly now? Won’t it make him sound like a fucking coward?

“Luke,” she warns. The finger presses in deeper.

“You were human, or I assumed. I was always this,” Luke gestures to himself, as if trying to brush away something, but all he’s done is reveal himself. “We were getting too close. I was letting you get too close.”

“So, so you left.”

“Yes. To be fair, normally, my past doesn’t come back around. I’m the only one that ever remains. You know, though. You know when you invited me inside that it wasn’t a friendly chat. I knew it. I wanted to give in. I mean, fuck, you’re,” the words are failing him. Because all he can see in her eyes are just how dark they are, just how much they don’t want to let light in, but have always shone brightly. “I found you really attractive. Find? Found? Fuck, I don’t know anymore. But I couldn’t give in. You’d know something was different. You’d know I was different.”

“Because you run cold?”

“It’s not-not just that. That’s a give away for sure. But, we-- we don’t always feel a hundred percent human. And sure, I could’ve explained away that, and the fangs, and literally anything physical. But if I let myself give in that night, I’d have to let himself give in every night after that.”

Dinah furrows her brows. “Did-did you like me?” She won’t ask if he still does. That was so many decades ago. By now, Luke has surely run into someone new. He had to have moved on.

“Like feels much too simple. But yeah, I did like you, Dinah. I had spent a lot of time hiding before you met me. I was lonely and then I met the guys in the band. And then I met you and for those hours at night, when we played shows or hung out drinking, I almost remembered what it was like to be human. It was a lot easier to leave before anything happened.”

Her gut feels like a storm. She’s angry--that Luke left, that she got attacked, that Mike died. But she’s also heavy with sadness, all those feelings she thought she had buried are resurfacing. She liked Luke too. She thought maybe she had found someone that was finally going to see her for who she was, not what she looked like, not the color of her skin. And sure LA at the time wasn’t the worst place but it still had it’s issues. Her palms press into his chest and she pushes Luke. It’s hard, more so than what she intended. It sends up backward, with just enough time to stop himself from slamming into the wall, if not through it into the other room. “I thought-I thought for a long time something bad had happened to you. I went around asking about you! I worried myself beyond belief. No one could get a hold of you! You were a fucking ghost.”

Luke catches the lamp as it teeters on the edge of the stand. It’s light flickers before remaining steadily on. “I-I’m sorry.” But sorry really doesn’t fix it, he knows. Because if Luke hadn’t left in the night, then maybe, Dinah wouldn’t have asked around. And maybe the trackers wouldn’t have singled her or Mike out.

“You know, I almost wish you had known about the trackers. I wish I was just caught at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“If I knew trackers were coming, I would’ve stuck around. I would’ve shown them that you and Mike weren’t a threat. But I didn’t. I didn’t have a clue. And I’m so sorry about what happened to you. And I wish I could’ve done something.” The rest of the thought stops on the tip of his tongue, but I can’t.

“I hate the night,” she confesses softly. The words sound like they barely want to leave her throat. “I hate it because it’s halfway the only time I can be me, I’m not under a thousand layers. And I hate it because that’s when you left. And I hate it because even though the council killed those two trackers, I still feel them watching me.”

“You didn’t deserve that. You don’t deserve to carry that anxiety either.” Luke finally pushes up off the wall, praying there’s no real damage. He doesn’t dare check now though.

Dinah’s just watching him, attempting to keep the shakes in her hands at a minimum. She can’t tell if she fully blames Luke or not. She can’t know for certain that if Luke hadn't left that she would’ve never been changed. She can’t know for certain that if Luke didn’t leave that the trackers could’ve been stopped, or that they wouldn’t come back. “If you had stayed, wouldn’t you have left eventually? Isn’t that what you’re doing now leaving?”

Luke knows he would’ve left eventually. Even if he didn’t stay around longer, even if he hadn’t run away that night, he would’ve eventually left. It’s all he’s good at--leaving. “I could’ve stayed there forever, no. Eventually, I would’ve left you. But I wouldn’t have left you like I did. I would’ve told you something easy to handle. A bear attack that was terrible. Maybe I tell you I’m leaving to go back home to my family for an emergency and I get on a train and for whatever reason, I don’t make it to the destination I told you I was going. And a letter comes in the mail a few weeks later, telling you what happened because your address is written down on a piece of paper in the pocket of the pants I’m wearing. And that lie would’ve hurt, whichever lie I choose, but it’s much better than just disappearing into thin air. I know that now. I didn’t know that then.

“And I was scared too. I keep moving because I don’t want to get too close. I don’t pursue careers anymore. I take jobs no one wants. I hide because it’s so much easier. Dinah, you terrified me because you reminded me just how human I fucking was at one point. How much I still am some days. I bounce around because I’ve been on this fucking earth for 150 years and it’s only been me. I don’t have a group, I don’t have anyone else. And I could’ve had you--I wanted to have you.”

The night Luke disappeared Dinah left to go to the bathroom and she was using it mostly as an excuse. She wanted to freshen up, rid her breath of some of the tequila she had in her drink. But mostly, she wanted just a moment to think what her next steps were going to be. Luke and her were hanging out pretty consistently, mostly at night, after gigs. She drove around town, across county lines to watch him and his band perform. He traveled for her shows too. That night, they hadn’t made official plans to meet up, but they knew each other well enough to know where to find the other.

It was the walk back, as she stared up at the cut of his jaw and the watched the way he smiled that she felt bold enough to invite him into her place. And coffee sounded better than come inside, hang out with me until I decide if I’ll have the guts to ask if this can go up the ladder, if they could take this a bit more seriously. And sure, they flirted. And sure, Dinah knew she couldn’t have that kind of conversation after sex, but she wanted to know the harm in letting herself go. For all the free spirit she is, Dinah didn’t like jumping into bed with someone that she wasn’t attempting to get serious with. Things were going well, better than she had ever considered to go. And sure there were stares and murmurs about them hanging out. And sure, Dinah worried about her safety at that time too, less so because Luke is white and surely, he wouldn’t turn up in a river.

But when she finally came back from the bathroom, Luke was gone. All that was left behind was a note, on a napkin that said Sorry. And Luke was gone. Dinah hadn’t even heard the door closing behind him on his departure. How could he just leave if he wanted her so bad though?

“Was it just what we are? Did you leave just because you weren’t like me then?”

“It’s not like council gives you a slap on the wrist for getting involved with a human. If they found out, I knew what consequences were at play. I didn’t want and I don’t want this for you. I left because they’d kill me, change you, or kill the both of us. I left because there was no way I could give you a normal life, and that’s what I wanted for you. I saw the looks people gave you hanging around me. I saw what was happening.”

Dinah’s never been the one that got away to Luke. She’s always been the one that Luke let go. She’s the one that if Luke could go back, and tell himself not to leave like he did, he would. If Luke could go back, he’d burn that note, that sorry ass apology. Tucked away, hidden beneath all the fear, is a tiny piece of hope that Luke did run into her again. That she had lived the life he wanted for her, and that she had grandkids and then maybe, they could meet in secret again. That she hadn’t forgotten about him. Truth be told, Luke always had a table prepared for her, a tiny piece of his heart that always remembered the way she laughed and the way purple lights and red lights on stage dazzled against her skin.

“That wasn’t your call. That was mine,” Dinah returns. There’s still a gap between them, from when she shoved him. It feels too wide, too far to close.

“I-I can’t say I was trying to protect without sounding like a fucking idiot, after what happened. But honest to whatever fucking being exists out there, I left because I was scared. I left because I didn’t want you to get hurt. I left because I thought it was the best thing to do. And I know I hurt you regardless. And I know shitty things happened despite my best efforts. But please believe me, Dinah, I didn’t think this would happen. I couldn’t have thought it up in my wildest dreams.”

The lights in the ceiling of the room are bright against the white. Dinah doens’t even blink at the harshness. Luke watches the way she swallows, head shaking side to side. He takes a step, just one and she snaps her attention to him at the movement. His keeps his hands raised. “Di, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t.” It’s one word. It’s hardly audible. No one’s called her that since Luke left. She makes sure no ones calls her that. He called her that all the time when she called, or after she sang him a new song she was working on. His eyes would always be so bright and he’d smile at her like she was the sun, like she was somehow unbelievable and not real, but somehow still in front of her. “You don’t get to call me that anymore,” she whispers, taking a step back.

Luke inches a little closer. “You gotta believe me. When I say I’m sorry.”

“I don’t have to believe anything. I don’t have to do anything.” But the truth is, she does want to believe him. She does want him to call her ‘Di’ again like he used too. She wants to know that even though it’s been sixty years and even though she’s still angry a little bit, she hadn’t forgotten how easy it was around him.

Luke steps forward again and Dinah doesn’t back away. Though, he does note how close she is to the closet. “Do you remember when we stayed up late, jamming to a new song you were working on? I don’t even know how you managed to do it. But we stayed up almost until sunrise--laughing at everything, even if it wasn’t funny. And I pressed your clothes while you got two hours of sleep. I made you pancakes and you got pissed because I didn’t add chocolate chips to them. And you always put chocolate chips into your pancakes. And you told me to take it to the grave that you thought my pancakes were better than your mother’s. I told you that had to be a lie because I was shit cook, but I didn’t want you going to work on an empty stomach.”

“Of course I remember. And when I got back home, you left a note with the recipe and I don’t know what you did, but I wasn’t able to replicate them.”

“And I had the pancakes that your mom made, you made them for me that next night. And I will say, I have never had better pancakes.”

“Why? Why you bringing that up?”

“Because that night was the first time I gave into you. That was the first night in decades for me that I wasn’t worried. I wasn’t thinking about making sure I didn’t get too close. That was the first night where I thought about what a normal life might look like for me. I watched you sleep and I thought about if that could be normal for us. And it was the first time I was scared shitless in a long time. I was scared when my family died and I couldn’t even be there. I was angry too. And after their funerals, I figured I wouldn’t find that kind of bond again--I would make myself not get too close. And then we stayed up almost until sunrise and I pressed your clothes because you wouldn’t stand for going into work with a wrinkle in that blouse.”

“I’ll have you know it won’t easy getting an office job at that time. I had been a cook or running food for plenty of years prior to that. And I wasn’t going to mess up a good opportunity like that job showing up in a wrinkled blouse.”

Luke laughs, softly, reaching out for her hands. Dinah hadn’t even noticed him creeping in closer to her. “I’m sure it wasn’t easy. What can I do? What can I do now to show you I really mean it? That I’m so sorry for what happened. I’d do whatever it was to make it up to you.”

“I-I don’t think there’s anything you can do. Not right now at least. I need time, Luke. I just--I don’t know what to do right now.”

“We got plenty of that,” Luke counters, brushing his fingers down her jaw. She doesn’t duck out of the touch. She still doesn’t quite feel real under his touch, in front of him. Luke’s sure he’s conjured her up. That he’s going to come to and be sitting in the cafeteria of the hospital and have daydreamed the whole thing up. “There’s plenty of time.”

Dinah can see it, the lean in and she shakes her head. That storm hasn’t gone away in her gut. She still hasn’t figured out if she wants to give into Luke or not. She does want to forgive him. She wants to move on now that she has her answers. “That’s a lot of years, a lot of hurt left.”

Luke nods, dropping his hand from her cheek and takes a small step back. “I understand.” He clears his throat, tucking some of his hair behind his ear. A few curls still fall down in front of his face. “I-I don’t need the bed,” he offers, stepping out of the way.

It’s an out. And Dinah doesn’t take it. “I don’t need the bed either.”

“I-I haven’t gotten used to that, clearly.”

Dinah watches the way Luke works his teeth over his bottom lip. His gaze turned down to the floor. She takes his head, threading her fingers through his. “Thanks. For understanding. For answering, honestly. I believe you, about everything. I just need to sort out my own feelings. Because those feelings haven’t gone away, from all our nights together. I just need to figure out what to do with them.”

Luke doesn’t miss the dark brown on her nails, the way it contrast against her skin but isn’t that much darker than the color of her tanned skin. He looks at the chipping red on his nails, the gel that’s grown out. He almost forgot the manicure. It was self administered, but kind of unevenly applied. “We can just talk then, about whatever, about nothing. I’ve missed a lot.”

“It’s not all that glamorous. Much of it is probably like you know, lonely.”

“Surely you’ve had some adventures though. You worked for council--that must’ve been something in and of itself.”

“They’re old and boring. The better story is me at Mardi Gras for the first time.”

“I’d love to hear it,” Luke smiles. He remembers the first time he stumbled across Mardi Gras, how the music almost never ceased and ate more human food than he ever had in a long time. But it all smelt so good and everyone kept handing him drinks and plates ane he couldn’t say no.

“I’m--I just want to shower first.”

“Okay.” It’s soft and Luke’s slow to remove his hand. He’s forgotten what it feels like to hold someone else’s hand, without fear. She grabs her bag and the bathroom door clicks closed softly behind her. Luke stands there for a moment, watching the handle for the slightest movement, listening to see if the shower starts up. Once the pitter of water hitting the basin starts to echo, he surveys the room.

The wall’s thankfully not damaged in any significant way. The lamp’s in good shape too. Those it’s clear on the rug where Luke skid back just a little. He runs a hand over it, to get rid of the harsh line and finally opens up his own bag. He peels himself out of the leather jacket, draping it over the back of the desk chair. It’s easy to pull out a plain white t-shirt and some shorts for him to change into.

The air unit rumbles and the water from the shower echoes, long after Luke’s changed out of the jeans. He keeps the volume low on the TV and almost goes to turn the overhead lights off, but opts to keep them on remembering the way Dinah talked about the night and how tense she seemed to be walking into a dark room. The mattress gives easily under Luke’s weight. He pushes the pillows all the way up against the headboard and reclines into it. There’s nothing to do right now but wait.

Part of Luke does worry that all Dinah wanted out of him were answers. That she’d manage to slip out some kind of way and she’ll always just be a fragment of Luke’s life, a piece that he would always hunger after but never be able to satiate. However, the bathroom door cracks open and a tiny bit of steam escapes out in the air not occupied by Dinah. It’s just a tank top and leggings but Luke’s quick to turn his attention back to TV. It’s definitely not the gown she used to sleep in all those years ago. But even then, that felt scandalous too. And maybe it’s not even the clothes themselves, it’s just Dinah and the attraction that Luke never lost.

Dinah settles next to Luke on the bed, watching first just the TV screen. “So Mardi Gras was the first time I realized that because I didn’t have hardly any blood in me, getting drunk takes a lot more than it used to.”

Luke tries to hold back his laughter, one hand covering his mouth. “Do not tell me that you were just slamming back drinks and suddenly realized folks were looking at you crazy for not being drunk.”

“No, of course not. I was absolutely told that in order to feel the same affects from alcohol before I required a lot more than before. No, no one told me. Though, my stomach at the time was use a pretty blood heavy diet, so eating and drinking human food made me queasy. So when I vomited shortly after, folks stopped staring so much afterwards.” Luke lets the giggles escape him, shoulders shaking as he holds onto the remote. “I did however, keep that in mind when I went to Carnival.”

Luke quirks an eyebrow. “Are we talking like, a carnival cruise ship?”

Dinah shakes her head, no, laughing. “No, definitely not the cruise ship. Trinidad Carnival. I heard from some other girls about it. They invited me to go with them. I looked good that trip.”

“Was this during the day?”

Dinah waves a hand. “Details, details.” Though they can withstand some sun, they can’t handle a lot of it. And in Trinidad, Luke can only assume there’s a lot of sun. Now, if Dinah knew about the fact that they can handle more sun if they’ve previously had some blood. It’s not a significant increase on the amount of time they can be out in the sun, but it is a decent bump up. “I kept to the night mostly, but I did hunt a little so I could go out during the day.”

Luke nods. It could be from her time with council or it could be just trail and error on her learning. He doesn't push on the details though. “Speaking of hunting, what’s your prefered diet?”

“It’s not polite to ask a woman about her weight you know.” It almost sounds serious until Luke sees the smile lifting her cheeks.

“Pardon me then.”

Dinah shakes her head, a small tuft of laughter trailing off. “I go mostly for animals. But I have had human blood. It’s a treat? Which is not something I thought I’d ever say in my lifetime.”

“It’s wild times for sure.”

“You?”

“Considering I’ve been living in plain sight for the last hundred plus years, I don’t give into human blood much. Was kind of hard when working in a hospital.”

“You worked in a hospital?”

“I changed sheets and cleaned up waste. It wasn’t glamorous.”

Dinah thinks back to when she ran into Luke. At that time, he was working in the local grocery store. Rumor had it before he disappeared he was lined up to take over as manager. Dinah wonders if that was considered as getting too close. “Is Luke your-”

“It is,” Luke answers. “It is my real name. I change the last name now most often. I’ve used aliases for my full name before too.”

“The tricks we all have to learn in order to survive,” Dinah comments.

Luke hums in agreement. “I stopped using first name aliaser a while ago. Luke’s a pretty common name. No one really cares.”

“When you say a while ago, I hope you don’t mind after me.”

Luke shrugs, giving neither a here nor there answer. Though, she’ll know the truth. It didn’t feel like lying before. It felt like survival. It felt like the smart thing to do, to bury who he was and become whomever he needed to be at the time. But after Dinah that all changed. A lot changed after her, but he doesn’t offer that up. He swallows that thought back down and flicks his gaze back to the TV in front of them.

“What’s up next for you?” Dinah knows she shouldn’t ask. She shouldn’t have so much hope in her voice.

“Take a bus somewhere, anywhere really. I’ve learned to travel light and just go wherever feels right.”

“So where feels right to you?”

“North,” Luke answers, turning his head to look at her. She’s picking at her nails, head hanging low on her neck. “What about you?”

At first it’s just a shrug. “I’m kind of tired of moving around. And I feel silly saying that to you. You’ve been dealing with this shit for a lot longer.”

“The only thing that kept you going before was probably the hope of running into me. So it makes sense. Now you’ve gotta recalibrate. Figure out what you want next.”

“I want to settle down. I know I won’t ever have the normal life or the kids, or grandkids that I wanted. But I’ve bounced from a few covens that were nice enough to let me stay and I guess I’ve always been a sucker for the found family idea.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, settling down. Just requires some money and the right place.”

Dinah nods at Luke’s comment. She was a little screwed on the money part. She didn’t have much before her change and in the time she had left the council, a lot of what she made went towards her car and the ventures to find Luke. Now, she had to figure out where she could settle down and what work she could get to help her save up. The conversation turns into a small lull, both of them watching the show on the TV.

Luke didn’t want to lose Dinah a second time. But there was no way he could just ask to join her. Not after she told him that she had to sort of her own feelings. It’s easy to see though. It’s easy to feel how things feel like they’re almost picking back up from when they last met. But it’s not an edge to it, a bit of tension. So Luke lets the question linger on the back of his tongue but doesn’t voice it. The conversation takes a turn to a story about how Dinah’s saved quite a few cats from trees and Luke shares a few stories about his time at the hospital, the older woman that hit on him.

Before they even realize, the sun’s peeking in from the curtains of the room. And even sooner than that, the sun starts to caress the horizons again. Luke doesn’t know where he’s going to wind up, what he’s going to be doing tomorrow let alone what will happen in a couple of weeks. He scribbles down his email though onto the hotel stationary. He makes sure to tuck into the palm of her hand at the entrance of the bus station. “Do you remember the address of the bar we met at?” Luke asks.

Dinah nods. “Yeah I do. It’s not a bar anymore. It’s part of some shopping center now or it was the last time I checked.”

Luke nods, it was a shopping center when he last went by it too. “Meet me there. When you get those feelings sorted out.”

Dinah almost tells him that he should join her. He should stop running and finally settle down. Though, that could be her projecting more than it is what he actually wants. Dinah glances at the paper at the email address scribbled across it. “I can do that.”

“Reach out. Anytime. If that changes, I’ll let you know well in advance.”

“Who’s leaving who?” Dinah asks. It feels stupid to ask right now. If she really didn’t want Luke to go, she had every chance last night and during the day.

“Maybe this isn’t leaving.” Luke needs it to be leaving. He wants to invite himself along. He wants to join along because it’s Dinah. Because he’s got a second shot with her. But he’s not sure if settling down is smart, right now. If it’s what he needs to do. “Maybe it’s just ‘see you around’ like an until next time. Now you don’t have to track me down. “

*********

Luke’s sitting at the bar, a towel thrown over his shoulder. The night’s yet to begin really. It’s early and a Friday night. There’s no doubt in his mind thought that in another couple of hours the entire place will be packed with a flood of people. A new patron wanders in and slides up to the bar. Luke greets them with a smile, taking in the dark curls on their head but he knows it’s not Dinah. He keeps hoping. He keeps praying, but so far in the month and a half he’s been here, she’s yet to show up.

They’ve talked extensively over the last couple of months. Luke went north for a little bit, but ultimately his gut told him to head south and go west. So he did. He landed back just north of where he lived last time out in LA. He had a gut feeling, something that itched the back of his brain and told him that Dinah would just randomly show up in LA. She wouldn’t wait to make a date and time to meet. Luke wanted to beat her to the punch.

“Cider please,” the woman asks, listing off the house brand. Luke checks the ID before reaching for a clean glass and pulls the level for the tap.

“Opening or closing?” he asks.

“Just the one,” they return, handing over the card. It’s a few more seconds before the receipt prints off for them to sign and they disappear to the floor, off to a booth. Half an hour later, more people filter in and head towards their booth.

Luke hangs back, making sure all his bottles are full and ready for the night, that there are no messes on the spill mats though soon he knows there will be the inevitable spill from him. His phone vibrates in his pocket and he steals a moment to look at it. A notification for a new email. On instinct, he’s quick to open it and a brand new email sits in his inbox. The subject sends him into a frenzy.

Meet me downtown. At the dive bar.

Just as Luke goes to reply, not bothering with the body of the email, a voice calls out to him from the bar. “What should a girl drink around here?”

When Luke lifts his gaze from his phone, he laughs. Dinah’s dressed in her old school signature red jumpsuit, those it’s definitely been revamped since the last time he’s seen it. Her hair’s braid back into a mohawk. But it’s still Dinah. “What are you looking for? Something sweet? Something to knock you off your ass?”

“Little bit of both.”

Luke starts to make her a drink, remembering from all their adventures what she’s always been partial to a little tequila. “How’d you find me? This isn’t our meeting spot.”

Dinah shakes her head. “You told me where you got a job. Or did you forget?”

The orange drink settles in front of her and Luke tilts his head to the side. “I don’t remember telling you.”

There’s a snort that cuts through the chatter and music of the bar. “Well, you did. Which is why I’m here.”

A group walks up to the bar and Luke excuses himself for just a second to help them. It’s a minute between setting up shots and drinks, but Luke watches Dinah from the corner of her eye. She stays perched at the bar counter, sipping at the tequila sunrise. Luke winks at her, pulling the last bit of sprite into the drink and sets it onto the counter. The group opens a tab and starts on their way back towards the dancefloor.

Luke’s sure he probably did tell her where he’s working. He’s sure that he wanted to be explicitly clear that he was waiting on her. Maybe it was just his own brain playing tricks on him. Even though he was around forever, didn’t mean he wasn’t exempt from the occasional brain fart. “So, if you’re here,” Luke starts, wiping his hands on the towel, “I hope that means feelings have been sorted.”

“Yes,” Dinah laughs. “Yes they have been. But I don’t want to impede on your job.”

“Told you it was only a matter of time. My shift ends at 2. If you don’t want to hang around, I get it. Just meet me back here and we can go and talk and I’ll make you chocolate chip pancakes.”

“Or I could sit here all night, staring at you, and then we leave for your place for chocolate chip pancakes.”

“Both of those work,” Luke laughs. Briefly, he runs a hand over hers. She’s real and she’s here. From wherever she’s been, Dinah’s sitting across the bar from Luke right now. “We’ve got a lot to catch up on. If you ever found that place to settle down at.”

Dinah squeezes his hand, unsure of what she can say, of what words convey how relieved she’s here, sitting across from him. “We do have a lot to catch up on. But thank God we’ve got plenty of time, right?”

She’s not insinuating what he thinks she is. Luke’s sure he’s standing there with his mouth agape, big enough for any number of insects or birds to make a nice home. Dinah’s laughter cuts above the throaty croak of the bass. “You’re not saying what I think you’re saying,” Luke whispers, leaning across the wooden counter to her.

“Maybe I am,” she grins, hands cupping his chin and the slight scruff decorating it now.

It’s quick. Fast enough that Luke swears he can hardly register it, but slow enough that it definitely makes me crave more. Her lips seal over his in a kiss. One he wishes he could’ve had earlier. But nevertheless, the feeling of her lips against his is something that he won’t ever be able to get over; it’ll be implanted into his memory for the rest of his existence.

“One more,” Luke whispers against her lips, feeling her drawing away. “Wasn’t long enough.”

Dinah laughs, but kisses Luke again. A little longer, a little firmer, a little deeper than the first, But she wheels it in, “You’re on the clock, you know?”

“I can very quickly be off it too.”

“Luke!” she reprimands, pushing lightly at his shoulder. “I am going to take this drink, which, here,” she slides cash across the counter, “definitely need to pay for and I’m going far far away from the bar so I’m not a distraction.”

“No, stay. Want you close. And you do not need to pay.” Luke straights up, sliding the bill back towards her.

“A tip. For you and your amazing customer service,” Dinah urges. And whether Luke likes it or not, he obliges before getting back to work. Dinah knew about two weeks after he dropped Luke off at the New York bus station that she was going to find him again. And when she did find him again, she wouldn’t have questions and she wouldn’t have so much hostility. First, she needed to work through all that. The calls helped; they opted not to email too much but the conversations along the way helped alleviate the residual confusion. Contact was often and thorough and when she needed space, Luke didn’t cross it.

She looked for a place to settle down at and she concluded on a place up in Canada. It was nice, mostly tucked away, but still close to a city that she could still get necessities. She hadn’t told Luke about it yet. He hadn’t made any clear indications that he was looking to settle down but it shocked her when he mentioned moving to LA and finding local work. She was under the impression that they would meet again, in LA, when both of them were ready. However, maybe this was an indication that Luke was ready already.

The night goes by fast. Or maybe it just feels fast because this is Dinah’s day. After last round, Dinah lets Luke know that she’ll be waiting outside, in the front lot. The Uber’s and taxis pull away, after picking up their respective groups and leave Dinah in the almost dark. But there’s so much light around from other signs and bars and restaurants, that it’s almost impossible to be in the dark for too long.

“My car’s over here,” Luke states, well in advance, to warn Dinah. She turns to find his throwing his thumb over his shoulder. “Where did you park?”

Dinah points her keys in his direct and her car beeps to life. “Few spaces from you.”

“Should’ve known. We can take your car. Mine will be fine overnight.”

“You sure?”

Luke nods, reaching out for her hand. “I’m sure. You’ll just have to give a ride to work--that’s all.”

“Something tells me I think I’d be okay with that.”

“Good, I’m glad,” he laughs, brushing his thumb over her skin. “So, you gotta let me in on what’s been happening with you?”

“You know me. Singing to make ends meet,” Dinah teases. Luke bumps her arm and she knows he wants the truth. She knows that he wants to know about the settling down and the feelings. And she can give all that to him. She can give him all the truth.

Tagging @5-secondsofcolor for morning reads

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5-seconds-of-bucky · 5 years ago

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All The Kisses

A/N: I really like this one.

Summary: All the types of kisses you share with Shawn throughout your relationship

Word Count: 2.2k+

Warnings: Some swearing and brief mentions of an anxiety attack. Very, very fluffy.

The First Kiss

You were just sitting next to each other on the ground and doing homework. Music was playing softly from your laptop and not much was said as you both worked on your Chemistry labs.

“Can you check this equation for me?” Shawn asked, pushing his notebook towards you. He smiled when you looked up from your notebook with big eyes, having not heard what he asked.

“What?” You brushed a loose strand from your ponytail back. He swore you had never looked cuter.

“Equation. Check,” he chuckled.

“Oh, sure.” You scanned over the numbers, erasing a two he had placed in front of Hydrogen, “Hydrogen has a subscript of two when it’s alone, so you don’t need the two in front.”

“Thanks.” His smile was soft and you swore you could have kissed him right then.

Last First Kiss started playing and you sang along quietly, when Shawn asked you, “Y/N, have you had your first kiss yet?”

“Shawn, you’re my best friend. Trust me, you’d be the first to know if I did.” You weren’t really fazed by the question, but Shawn seemed somewhat shocked by your answer.

“Have you been on a date?”

“Nope.” You rolled your eyes and let out a playful sigh. “Oh, I am such a poor, lonely soul.” You placed your hand to your heart and made a dramatic frown. Shawn laughed.

“I could be your last first kiss, “ he stated with a glint in his eyes.

“Stop plagiarizing One Direction. Write your own songs.”

“I have!”

“Exactly! Use them!” You both laughed. Shawn watched you as your face returned to a more restful expression. The hair that fell in front of your face did little to block the small smile still resting on your face. “What are you staring at?”

“Just how beautiful you are.” You blushed profusely. Your best friend who you happened to have a decent sized crush on just called you cute? No way.

“What are you talking about?” You tried to brush off the comment, but every thought of it made you blush even more.

“You’re so pretty. I have no idea how you haven’t had your first kiss or even been on a date, but I’m gonna change that.” Before you could respond, his lips were on yours. It was short and sweet, but it left you breathless.

Shawn started at your shocked expression, worried he had done something wrong. “I’m so sorry, I should have asked-” He was cut off by you cupping his cheeks and pulling him in again. He smiled. Nothing could beat this moment.

Top of the Head Kisses

“I don’t know how I failed it,” You exclaimed through tears. You were leaning against your car, a hand covering your tearstained face. “I worked so hard.”

“I know baby. I know,” Shawn said softly as he pulled you into his chest. His right hand went around your waist while his left held your head to his chest. He had seen you study for a whole week. You had gone to the teacher every day after school, having to cancel some of your plans with him. It didn’t make sense that you had spent all this time trying and failed anyways.

“I hate history,” You mumbled, wrapping your arms around him and pressing you head further into his chest, as if it would keep you safe from the tortuous grade.

“It’s alright babe. It’s just one grade. It won’t kill you.” “It dropped my grade four points.”

“It’s all going to work out. We can figure out where you went wrong so you can prepare for the next one, alright?”

“Okay.”

You stayed there for a few more minutes, enjoying the company of your boyfriend. He placed his head on top of yours and you smiled.

“You’re the best boyfriend ever. You know that right?”

“Yeah.” His smile reached the side of his face when he heard you laugh. “You’re the best girlfriend.” He put his lips on the top of your head, staying there for a second before kissing it. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

“Y/N, can you come over here?” Shawn asked from the doorway that lead outside. You were at your parents house and there was a campfire set up outside, waiting for everyone to gather around.

“Yeah, just let us finish this round,” you said dismissively. You and your brothers were playing Mario Carts and you were about to win when you got hit by someone’s power up. “Who did that?”

Both of your brothers laughed and you sent a glare in their direction. “You’ve got to be kidding me! How did you win that one?” one of them asked.

“Skills, baby.”

“One more round.”

“You’re on.”

“Y/N,” Shawn chuckled from the doorway, walking towards your place on the couch.

“What, babe?”

“There’s a fire outside. Come on, let’s go.” The hand he had stuck in his pocket fumbled with the case he had been carrying around for a while. “I have something important to ask.”

“You can just ask me here.” Your eyes never left the screen in front of you as you talked to him.

“You have to come outside.”

“It’s gonna have to wait then.”

Shawn shook his head. It was going to take a lot to get you outside. “You’re crazy,” was all he mumbled before leaving a kiss on the top of your head. You leaned slightly into him and he wrapped an arm around you. “Love you babe.” He pressed another kiss to your head and walked outside, looking at the perfect proposal scene in front of him.

Wedding Kisses

He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. From the moment you walked down the aisle to the moment he was told he could kiss the bride, Shawn’s eyes were on you.

“You may kiss the bride,” Shawn didn’t wait a second, wrapping his arms around you and dipping you before crashing his lips on yours. You were both in fits of giggles afterwards, you telling him that you thought you were going to fall over with how clumsy he was.

“I would never drop you, my dear,” was the only response he had. It seemed like he couldn’t get enough of you all night either, kissing you every chance he got.

It took all his willpower not to kiss you during your first dance. It was all he wanted to do, yet he realized that he had all the time in the world to do it. With your head on his shoulder and his head resting on top of yours, he was able to sneak in a few to your temple. He could feel you smile on his shoulder every time he did, and nothing had ever given him a better feeling.

All too soon, the night was over, but he kept kissing you everywhere he could reach.

“I’m never going to get tired of this,” he mumbled as you swayed together in your apartment. You were holding each other close, swaying to the music playing from your phone.

“Me either.”

Last First Kiss came on, and you both burst into a fit of giggles.

“Can you believe this is where it started?” you asked, lifting your face from his chest to get a full look at his face. “Six whole years ago.”

“You were so cute back then.” His head fell back in laughter when you swatted his arm with a fake frown.

“I was. Too bad I’m so beautiful now.”

“All the better, my dear. Everything about you is magnificent.” He dipped you and leaned down to kiss you again, smiling as he realized this is how he got to spend the rest of his life.

Forehead Kisses

“Alright, three, two, one!” He shouted from three rows back. You were at one of the areas Shawn was performing in that night. You thought it would be cool if you jumped off the stage and struck a pose in the air. The stage wasn’t too far off the ground. What could go wrong?

You jumped as high as you could, sticking both your arms in the air and making a silly face. Everything was fine until you landed. Your feet gave out from under you and you landed hard on your left knee. “Fuck!”

“Babe,” Shawn ran towards you kneeling down next to you and trying to get you to sit back. “Are you okay? What hurts?”

“My knee.” You voice came out strained and you hugged it close to your chest. “Holy shit.”

“It’s alright babe, I’ve got ya.” He carefully picked you up bridal style and carried you backstage to get you checked out. He sat down and laid you across his lap, allowing you back to rest on the armrest of the couch.

Your face was still contorted in pain, grimacing more when you knee was being inspected.

“It’s gonna be alright, babe,” Shawn whispered, pressing his lips to your forehead and letting them linger for a second. You curled up closer to him, signifying that you wanted to stay like that. He smiled in adoration and put his lips back to your forehead, staying like that until you were able to stand up and get back to his dressing room.

“Breath with me, baby,” you whispered as you held him close. You took deep breaths, trying to get him to sync with you. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” Soon enough, his breathing became more regulated and you were able to pull back slightly to get a better look at his face.

He was a mess. His anxiety had been through the roof the past few weeks and tonight was his breaking point. Luckily, you had been there when he needed you and you were able to calm him down.

“You’re okay,” You said softly, running your fingers through his hair and pushing you lips to his hairline. You left a few pecks there before pulling him down to lay on your chest.

“You are so strong,” your lips were still pressed to his forehead, “and I am so proud of you.”

Belly Kisses

“Shawn, he’s kicking!” you shouted from the bedroom, placing your hands on your stomach as you felt the flutters.

Shawn all but ran to the room, dropping to his knees and placing his hands on your belly to feel. “Oh my gosh. He’s kicking.” His smile reached his ears as he looked up at you. “That’s our kid.”

“That’s our kid,” you confirmed, placing your hands on top of his.

“I love our little bub. I love you,” He stated simply, closing his eyes and resting his forehead on you belly, taking in the moment. After a few seconds he picked his head up and started blowing raspberries on your belly, causing you to shake with laughter.

“Shawn!” He was mesmerized by the sight. His beautiful wife, pregnant with their child, laughing like he had just told the funniest joke in the world. He placed a quick kiss to your belly before standing up and cupping your cheeks, kissing you like the night of your wedding.

Temple Kisses

“Shh, Jack. It’s okay, mommy’s got you.” You said as you rocked your two week old son in his room. It was one in the morning and you were beyond exhausted, but Shawn needed to rest. He had a long day of interviews coming up that day and you didn’t want him to be tired. Of course, Jack had other plans.

His cries seemed to be intensifying by the minute, leaving you to hope that he wouldn’t disturb Shawn. You felt like you had tried everything. You had fed and changed him. You even went as far to change his pyjamas, hoping that maybe he just didn’t like the material. Nothing seemed to be working. Sometimes, you knew, he just needed his dad. You were hoping that wasn’t the case tonight.

Your hopes were crushed when you heard soft footsteps coming down the hallway and the door opening slowly.

“Sorry. I was trying to let you sleep but he won’t stop crying and I don’t know why.” You were close to tears and Shawn could tell that you were frustrated.

“No, no, it’s okay. Let me try.” He took the wailing baby from your arms and started bouncing to soothe him. It took a few minutes for it to stop, but Jack eventually started to calm down, falling asleep on Shawn’s shoulder. “There we go.” Shawn carefully placed his son back in his crib and turned to look at you. “He just need his daddy tonight.”

You were almost asleep standing up and Shawn smiled to himself. His perfect little family all in one room. You jumped slightly when you felt his arms wrap around you.

“You’re such an amazing mom. I hope you know that,” he mumbled into your shoulder.

“You’re an even better dad.” You turned your head to kiss him on the temple, sliding your head down afterwards to rest on his shoulder.

He pulled his head up to kiss your temple in return before saying, “I am so lucky to have you two.” You looked up and smiled tiredly, allowing him to see the dark circles under your eyes from multiple nights of interrupted sleep. “Let’s get you to bed, pretty mama. You need some sleep.”

#Shawn Mendes #Shawn Mendes fic #Shawn Mendes fanficiton #Shawn Mendes imagine #Shawn Mendes one shot #Shawn Mendes writing #Dad!Shawn #husband!shawn #boyfriend!Shawn #soft!shawn #Shawn Mendes x reader #Shawn Mendes x Y/N #Y/N #Shawn Mendes fluff #Anna writes

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ofwolvesandbutterflies · 5 years ago

Text

the constant

Pairing: Nakamoto Yuta x Reader

Genre: suggestive fluff

Tags: gang!au, partnersincrime!au

Warnings: brief mentions of violence, mature content... the whole works

day 15 of 30 days with NCT

Synopsis: in which you and yuta have a love/hate relationship in the way that yes, there are times you’d stop at nothing to rip his throat out... but you’d still kill anyone who’d try to kill him.

// tryin’ to be with you is crazy // (x)

[23:44]

Out of all the things that were supposed to happen today, you would have never expected to be at yet another lavish party, posing as Yuta’s arm candy in an effort to catch any piece of information that could help total the yakuza your group had been having trouble with for years. On top of that, nor did you expect to have his hands teasing the edges of your thin party dress up little by little, sloppy, open mouthed kisses coaxing moan after moan from your glossed lips.

Today was supposed to be your day off. No guns, no violence, no blood, no sex, and no Yuta. Forget the perfectly tailored leather pants that hugged you in all the right ways and concealed so many dangerous gadgets, the hidden knives up your sleeves, and the eternally loaded gun always ready in your holster. Today was all about comfy sweatpants, oversized long sleeves, and all the unhealthy food you fasted from during the work week at the 127 syndicate.

The aroma of slow baked chocolate and the tiniest hint of vanilla wafted through the air, bringing a genuinely happy smile to your watering mouth. Nothing could ruin this afternoon. And then, your phone lit up, vibrated against the wood grain of the table you sat against with a ring you wished meant something - someone - else. You stuffed a piece of brownie in your mouth before pulling the device up to your ear.

"Where you at, baby girl?" Yuta's relaxed voice floated through the phone speakers like honey; smooth, sickeningly sweet, and so very easy to get addicted to. Yuta was cocky, he was confident. You supposed it was part of his charm as the infamous womanizer of the gang. Nevertheless, having to hear that almost every hour of every minute of the week was definitely part of the reason hearing his ring tone never hesitated to spark irritation in the very depths of your being. He continued. “Just thought I’d let you know I missed seeing your ass this morning at the 07:00 meeting.” Your lips curled back into a sneer, swallowing the rest of the brownie chunk you had just stuffed into your mouth.

"How nice of you to call in on my day off, sweet cheeks." Shoving the freshly baked plate of brownies back onto the counter, you hissed at your partner, not even bothering to cover the annoyance in your tone. "Thought you had another - what was it you rather me call them again? Oh right - another rendezvous this afternoon.

"Oh, that’s right. I did have something planned. If I remember correctly, it was with this hot piece of multi-million dollar eye candy, Bae Joohyun. And I was looking forward to it, too. Would’ve been an easy couple thousand.” An over exaggerated sigh pushed its way out of your partner’s infuriatingly soft lips. Had the handsome blond been right beside you, a sure smirk would have appeared on his face, challenging you, taunting you. “Too bad it got cancelled. Jealous, babe?"

"Never in a million years, dickhead,” the scoff elicited a sigh from his end of the call. “Now what do you want?"

His answer was quick, sharp and you could practically see the shit-eating grin seeping into his voice.

"Jaehyun said to be back within the hour. He and ‘Yong have a thing for us to do sometime soon. And by 'sometime soon' I mean by the end of today." Good thing you had put the brownies away a few minutes ago, the news surely would have shocked you into choking on a piece of chocolate-y heaven. Your eyes widened and your back stiffened. This must have been important. Jaehyun and Taeyong never called you or any other member in on a day off unless it was imperative to the success of the crime syndicate. “Y/N? You still on?”

"Wha- wait, Yuta, what’s going on?” Adjusting the phone so that it was in speaker mode, you quickly pulled your hair up into a sleek ponytail and ran about your studio apartment in a rush to get your work-outfit on. Pressed button down? Check. Sexy pants? Check. Dark shoes, sunglasses, and mask? Check. “Why today? Wh- I mean, what details are we working with here? What type of stuff do I need?"

“They didn’t give me much to work off of, babe, just told me to tell you to get your ass up and over to the company in 15 minutes.” The pet name flew over your head to go completely unnoticed as you stripped down to change. Gone was the playful banter the two of you shared on the daily. Yuta’s work voice was on which meant he was serious. You bit back a groan, hopping around on one foot as you tried to stuff your other foot into the pant leg.

“You said within the hour. Fifteen minutes?! Really?"

"The sooner the better, Princess. You know Jae doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Grumbled complaints fell upon deaf ears and you stuffed your company wallet and ID into your purse. “Fine. I’ll see you in fifteen.”

“Make that ten.”

“Oh my fucking- Yuta!”

Getting to the party had been no problem. Slipping in unnoticed hadn’t been a problem, either. Hell, even convincing everyone you were another escort and that Yuta was part of a new development in one of their small eastern groups was easy money. However, getting the information… had been posing a problem.

The rough prints Taeyong had provided the two of you with said the meeting room was more centrally located in the house. While the information you were going off of was limited, the moment the two of you wandered past the crowds of low ranking footmen and into barren hallways where only a few, higher class gang members stood guarding a door, you knew you had found what you were looking for.

A surge of confidence welled up within you and you started toward the group of men over in front of the door. You could take these pansies. However, a hand, warm and calloused from years of fighting, tugged you back into a familiar chest before you could do anything. Within seconds, his lips were on your neck, kissing and sucking dark bruises into your skin with leisure. Albeit a little taken aback, you followed your partner’s lead and tilted your neck to grant him more access.

“Ahh… Yuta…” Leaning back into his body, you crained your neck so you could shoot a hooded glare up at your partner. “As much as I love how needy you are at the most inconvenient of times-”

“Easy, princess,” Yuta murmured, smile evident in the way his voice lowered, deep and sensual against the shell of your ear. You suppressed a delicious shiver at the sensation of his hands sliding up and down your arms. “Sorry about the sudden contact, there are just a couple of guys to my five o’ clock that were looking. But those goons over there? There’s three of them, two of us. We can’t rush them like this.”

“Gr… Fine.” All of a sudden, he paused to spin you around and slam you up against the wall of the hallway, only loud enough to garner the little bit more of needed attention to the two of you. With his hands on either side of your head and his teeth teasing the flesh of your neck, you couldn’t decide whether to glare at him or kiss the dumb grin off his lips when he wedged his knee between your legs.

“How about a little... distraction?” Your eyelids fluttered when kissed you again, immediately understanding what he meant. You knew well this was all a part of the job, rolling your core up into the evident arousal forming in your partner’s pants, biting back a moan when he bent down slowly, eyes flickering over your shoulder to check on your audience... But damn, the way his clothed hips met yours had you moaning your partner’s name louder than you originally meant to.

“Oh my go- Yuta, oh fuck…” One last kiss and he pulled away, sparing you a knowing smirk before turning towards the sound of footsteps near your position. All three men surrounded the two of you, eyes trained solely on your partner.

“HEY.” A giggle threatened to slip from your mouth when you heard how high one of the guy’s voices was.

“‘Sup, man?” Yuta cocked his head, running a finger over your lips playfully before grinning up at the frowning male glaring at him, the shorter one. “Need something? Another drink? You need a light? Oh shit, have you tried any of the girls over here-”

“Cap it, dickwad,” another guy growled. You noticed Yuta’s smile drop ever so slightly and your blood began to boil. No one called Yuta ‘dickwad’ except for you. “You got 10 seconds to find another hallway to fuck this bitch in before I-”

“She’s not a ‘bitch’,” your partner grumbled before the other idiot could finish his sentence. The other man stopped and glanced at his friends in disbelief, as if he couldn’t believe a ‘low-ranking foot soldier’ dared talk back to him. You fought the urge to go for your knife when he grabbed Yuta’s collar, sneering.

“Care to repeat that, dumbass?”

“Sure, old man,” Yuta growled, eyes narrowing as he squared his shoulders in front of you. “Don’t. Call. Her. A. Bitch.”

“Why you little fuck-” he didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence, though. Because Yuta had already kicked him in the gut and threw a well-squared punch straight into his jaw, knocking him out cold. The other two rushed at him, dark eyes glowing with something dangerous - but they, too, were on the floor, unconscious within seconds.

“Come on,” he called, stepping carelessly over the unconscious bodies and towards the door. “Door’s open.” For a moment, all you could do was stare with your mouth agape at your partner. You had worked with him for the past 4 years and while so much of your time together was spent arguing, bickering over trivial things… There were moments like these that reminded you he still cared in his own way. Releasing a breath, Yuta’s shoulders visibly relaxed and he pulled the recording device out of his suit jacket.

“Wait- Yuta!” you spoke, hurrying over to your partner’s side. He turned and paused mid-stride, eyes refusing to meet yours just like the way they did every other time he did something for you. “What the fuck- I mean, what was that- I mean, wait. No. T-thank you. You… You didn’t need to beat them up.”

“Pfft, who said I was doing it for you,” he shrugged, voice back to being cocky, slinging an arm around your waist to pull you closer to the door, still avoiding your gaze. “Those guys- they were just assholes in general, they don’t know how much shit you put up with. They deserved that.”

“But still…” You trailed off, knowing he wasn’t just going to take a compliment like this. So instead, you turned towards him, cupped his chin and pressed a sweet kiss to the frown disfiguring his beautiful features. And he stopped, grabbing your waist to pull you to him once more, soft lips caressed yours. It was all part of the job, that much you knew. Playing coy, acting dumb, kicking ass, skipping days off, and kissing random strangers.

But the one constant you could always count on was Yuta. Your annoying partner who would always, always have your back.

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floralguccistyles · 5 years ago

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six: imperial death march

I had always found the bright yellow walls of Doctor Thorne’s office comforting.

My first appointment with Doctor Thorne, the walls had been the first thing I noticed. I had never been to a therapist before, although I probably should have when I was younger. Doctor Thorne wasn’t an intimidating woman by any means, but I think the idea of having to see a therapist was daunting enough for me to be terrified walking into her office on that first day. I had been expecting clinical and sleek. Instead, the walls were yellow, she had colorful art littered around the room, and the chair I sat in was velvet and blue.

I was sitting in that chair now, ankles crossed and body sat up straight to assure her I was listening.

“Has he tried to contact you since?”

Right. The topic of conversation had, inevitably, strayed to Harry. Just as I had gotten over talking about the trauma he caused me in secondary school, he had appeared back into my life, seemingly intent on proving that he had changed. Doctor Thorne didn’t mind. But I did. I felt like I was allowing him to invade into my thoughts. Last session, we had talked about my small bout of insecurity when I had run into Jeff and Glenne, and now we were discussing how I felt when Harry contacted me about the Lord of the Rings books, which had been about two weeks ago.

“No.”

“Do you think you’ll respond if he does?”

I didn’t know the answer to that. Honestly, I think it would depend on my mood. If I was having a good day, I might have replied. It would have been short and not very communicative, but I had told him on his birthday that I hated holding onto this anger and hurt and I had meant it. But I also hadn’t forgotten the many nights I had spent crying over him and his friends. I told Doctor Thorne as much. “I don’t know, honestly. I want to get over this, but...it’s difficult.”

“I’m not expecting you to find it easy. Ultimately, the choice is up to you, Petra. If you decide it’s best for your mental health that you want Harry out of your life, you get to make that choice. If he’s changed, like he said he has, he’ll understand.”

Doctor Thorne was right, as always. Lately, we had been working hard on putting myself first without feeling like it was selfish for me to do so. It was taking some work, but I think with Melody and Doctor Thorne, I was getting better at it.

I left Doctor Thorne’s office with the promise of seeing her two weeks from today. Her office was fifteen minutes from the yoga place Melody and I usually attended, so I usually took the tube there. I would be going to yoga alone today. Melody usually joined me, since she had the time slot right before me at Doctor Thorne’s office, but she had to rush out and get back to work because Trennan had, like usual, messed something up and needed her help. That meant it was me, the tube, and the small cereal bar I had in my purse in for the long haul.

When I walked into 360 Yoga Fitness Center and Spa about twenty minutes later, the woman behind the front desk smiled at me. She was used to me coming every time I had a therapy appointment. She signed me in easily and I made my way into the usual yoga room, setting my mat down on the floor and taking the time before class started to stretch. Melody had texted her apologies for not being able to make it earlier, but I honestly didn’t mind doing yoga alone. I would have preferred having her here with me, but there was something relaxing about it just being me alone with my thoughts.

My phone buzzed quietly from my bag. As there were only a couple people in the room and the instructor wasn’t in yet, I figured it was okay to check it really quickly. Pulling it out of my bag (and remembering to silence the alert vibration while I was at it), I spotted the message from Harry easily enough.

harrystyles: What are you doing today?

He must have had burning ears. I stared at the message for a second, crinkling my nose in distaste. I hadn’t been lying to Doctor Thorne when I had mentioned Harry hadn’t tried to get in contact with me since those messages about Lord of the Rings, but to be completely honest, I didn't expect him to try it again. I had hoped my running into Harry and his new friends might have been a part of my life that was slowly coming to a close, but alas, I guessed wrong.

Not bothering to respond, I tossed my phone back into my bag as the instructor walked in. Hopefully Harry would get the hint that I didn’t exactly want to talk to him.

“Good morning everyone!” My instructor said, much too peppy for my taste but that was because Melody usually made everything a little more palatable. “We’re going to start nice and easy today. Let’s go ahead and do some basic stretches first.”

I was happy that none of the poses during the hour long class were too difficult, like some of them had been in the past. Once the session was over, I packed up my stuff, sweating from every pore I could ever imagine on my body, and pulled out my phone to text Melody that I was on my way to my flat in case she wanted to come over after fixing whatever Trennan had managed to muck up.

harrystyles: It’s important, promise.

I rolled my eyes. Nothing could be more important than the hour-long shower I was going to take when I returned to my flat. The passengers on the tube looked at me with wrinkled noses because I was sure I smelled less than pleasant, but I didn’t care. Once the twenty-three minute ride was done, I hopped out and immediately beelined for my shower, waving quickly to Ms. Wilcox as I passed.

Shedding my clothes almost immediately, I hopped into my shower and started scrubbing my skin vigorously. Melody had a key to the flat, so I wasn’t worried about her not being able to get in if she came around, so I decided to take my time and maybe shave my legs. It had, admittedly, been a while since the task had been done. I had long since been out of actual shaving cream, so I just lathered my generic body wash onto my leg, the smell of vanilla overpowering my senses. My razor was in my hand, dragging up my leg when I heard the knock on the door.

It made me jump, and consequently, cut my leg. It started bleeding almost immediately, and I threw the razor onto my soap dish and started cursing at it. The water cascaded over the cut, providing a little stinging sensation but not nearly enough for it to be super painful.

“Coming!” I shouted, turning off the shower. I wrapped my hair in a towel and threw on my bathrobe. My plasters were in my kitchen cabinet, so my leg would bleed until I could get the door and hobble to the cabinet. “Shit,” I groaned when I stepped out of the shower, nearly slipping on the water that had sloshed onto my floor in my haste to get out.

I made it to my front door with minimal injuries, despite the fact that blood was now dripping down my leg at an alarming rate. When I pulled the door open, I can honestly say that seeing Harry Styles with two iced coffees in his hand was the last thing I expected to see.

“Hi, sorry, I know you probably don’t want to see me, but—” he cut himself off, eyes actually zeroing in on what I was wearing. “What are you doing?”

I narrowed my eyes. “What the bloody hell does it look like I’m doing? I was mid-shower, you asshole.”

“You’re bleeding,” he announced stupidly, his eyes locked on the blood on my leg. It was really unfair how much blood came out of a razor cut. I didn’t even feel the sting of it anymore, but the amount of blood it was producing was as if someone had taken a hammer to it. “What happened?”

“Christ, just come in.” I grabbed his wrist, the one holding the iced coffee with the least amount of liquid in it, and pulled him roughly inside my flat, closing the door behind him. While he stood dumbfounded in my foyer, I made my way to the kitchen and grabbed a plaster. “Why are you here, Harry? And how did you even get my address?” Lifting my leg onto the counter, I wiped the blood away with a wet paper towel.

“You weren’t answering my messages. I asked Bailey for your address.” He appeared in my kitchen suddenly, setting the coffees on the counter. “Is your leg okay?”

And then, with a delicateness I wasn’t aware he would even possess, he gently put his hand on the back of my knee, inspecting the cut. It was starting to turn red with blood again, so he reached out his hand to grab the plaster between my fingers. “Stay still,” he ordered, tongue poking out a little in concentration. He folded back the plastic on the plaster and methodically stuck it to the cut on my shin, patting it with his finger once he was done. “There.”

I didn’t bother saying thanks, due to the fact that I still didn’t know why he was here and I briefly had lost my breath.

“I’m sorry for interrupting your shower, but you weren’t responding and I knew you’d hate me forever if I didn’t tell you. John Williams is at the studio I normally record at, and he wants to meet me.”

It took me a few seconds to process what Harry had said. My thoughts were still on the gentleness in which he had applied the plaster to my cut. When his words did catch up to my brain, my eyes widened. “John Williams is in your studio?”

He nodded enthusiastically. “Jeff’s with him now. But he’s only going to be there for another thirty minutes, so we’ve got to go.”

“John Williams,” I repeated, just to confirm, “as in the guy who did the musical scores for Jaws, Indiana Jones, and the entire Star Wars series?”

“Yes, Petra. So get clothes on and let’s go!”

Normally, I would never voluntarily put myself in a car with Harry Styles. It was setting myself up for nothing but negative emotions and feeling bad about myself. But this was John Williams he was talking about. The guy who single-handedly made some of my favorite movies awesome because of his incredible music scores.

Which is the only reasonable explanation that I shouted “OH MY GOD!” in Harry’s face before making a beeline towards my room.

My hair still had conditioner in it, my legs were only half shaved, and I was pretty sure I hadn’t rinsed all the soap off my arms, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me.

I threw the towel on my head somewhere on the floor of my room and slammed the door shut so I could strip off my bathrobe. I figured with my hair still wet and me generally looking like a wet rat, there would be no problem with wearing casual clothes. Plus, Harry had been in jeans, a graphic shirt, and Vans. Hurriedly drying my legs off so they wouldn’t stick when I tried to slip into jeans, I slid them up and over my thighs with only minimal stomping around. I briefly debated on wearing a Star Wars shirt, but figured that was maybe a little too “crazy fangirl” so I settled on a striped shirt with a bralette under it.

“Petra, we’ve go to go!”

“I haven’t brushed my teeth! I can’t meet John Williams without having brushed my teeth!”

“I have Listerine strips in my car!”

Figuring that was the best I was going to get, I slipped my feet into Vans without even bothering to put socks on (which I would scold myself for later, but John Williams was waiting) and ran into the living room, where Harry was staring at the picture on my little shelf.

It was when my grandmother had come to visit. She had her arms wrapped around me so tightly that I thought I was going to pass out, but I hadn’t ever wanted her to let go. She was a beautiful woman, with dark hair and eyes so brown they almost looked black. “Is that your grandmother?” he asked, touching the corner of the frame reverently, like it was a piece of artwork he needed to preserve.

“Yeah.” I swallowed roughly. I never really looked closely at the picture because it always made my eyes fill with tears. It reminded me that I’d probably never see her again, or see Cuba in my lifetime. “Her name’s Yelina.”

“You look like her.”

I wasn’t emotionally ready to unpack that statement, especially with Harry. “Let’s go.”

Harry drove an ostentatious and expensive looking Mercedes Benz. I couldn’t decide if the color was a very light gray or light blue, but I didn’t pause to debate over it too much before I was yanking the door open and plopping myself down into his passenger seat. He made his way to the driver’s side way too slowly for my taste, but he eventually wiggled into the driver’s seat and handed me the iced coffee he had gotten for me. “I didn’t know what you usually drink, so I just got you the same thing I get.”

It was coffee, but I could taste lots of caramel and vanilla in it as well. It was a little too sweet for my taste, but it would do. Also, the more I drank it, the less I had to talk to Harry. That was a win-win for me.

Harry looked over at me and grinned. “Your hair is still dripping.”

“I look terrible and I’m about to meet John Williams,” I commented, letting out a nervous laugh and taking another long sip of the coffee.

“You look beautiful, Petra.”

I looked over to him and snorted. His mouth turned down at the corners when he heard the sound. “Harry Styles calling me beautiful? Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Yeah, well I was an asshole when I was younger. You’ve always been beautiful.”

The lump in my throat made it hard to talk. So I didn’t try. I simply leaned back in my seat and stared out the window, avoiding Harry’s gaze and the tension that sat between us. His hands gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles were white, and I wondered if he was thinking about all the shit he had said to me when we were younger.

Harry’s studio was about ten minutes away driving, which left us about twenty minutes to meet John. When Harry pulled into the parking lot, I had to restrain myself from throwing the door open before he’d come to a full and complete stop. He handed me a Listerine package and I took two, barely even noticing the stinging taste of the alcohol as I ran my tongue back and forth over them to get them to dissolve faster. Then we were out of the car and walking towards the building, Harry slipping shades on over his face despite the fact that it wasn’t sunny out. I wondered if he knew that putting sunglasses on did nothing to hide his identity.

Jeff was standing in the lobby of the recording studio, standing next to an older gentleman with white hair, a matching white beard, and glasses perched on the tip of his nose. I felt myself stop breathing (and stop walking) and only remembered to inhale when Harry put his hand on my back and pushed me forward slightly. “Jeff,” Harry said, and the two men turned to look at him, “sorry I’m late. You must be John.”

“The man of the hour,” John replied, giving Harry a twinkling smile. I wanted to cry, but figured that would be a bit unprofessional. “I just listened to your solo album. It’s incredible, son. My great-granddaughter is obsessed.”

“It’s an honor to hear you say that, sir,” Harry said, shaking John’s hand. I saw the moment John’s eyes flitted over in my direction and think my soul might have ascended. “This is my friend, Petra. She’s a fan of your work and I knew she’d want to meet you.”

John smiled at me, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Pleasure to meet you, Petra. Are you in the music industry too?”

“I...I run a podcast, actually,” I managed to stutter out.

“How interesting. What about?”

“Various things. Mostly I have guests that worked on big franchise movies or books.”

I didn’t realize Harry hadn’t taken his hand off my back until I felt him squeeze my shoulder reassuringly. I wondered if he could feel me shaking. “Petra’s writing a book herself. Her podcast is absolutely incredible to listen to.”

“I’ll have to listen sometime. You ever talk about Star Wars?”

“We’ve discussed Star Wars a lot. We actually had one of the costume designers on once. It was incredible.”

“Next time I’m here in London I’ll have to drop by. My grandkids listen to podcasts and they’re always trying to get me into new ones.”

“We’d love to have you,” I assured. Inside, I was trying to keep myself from doing something embarrassing.

John and Harry chatted for a little while longer, but it came time for John to leave for the airport to catch his flight back home to America. He shook Harry and Jeff’s hand and even gave me a hug. Harry rolled his eyes behind John’s back when he saw the tears gathering in my eyes, but gave me a smile to assure me that he was just joking about it. Then, John left and the three of us stood in the lobby of Harry’s recording studio in silence for approximately five seconds.

And then I burst into tears.

Jeff looked horrified. If he had grown up with me, he might have known how incredible that moment was for me. As he hadn’t grown up with me, he probably was wondering what the hell was wrong. Harry didn’t hesitate for a single second to grab tissues and press them into my hand so I could wipe away my tears.

“I’m sorry,” I said, directed more towards Jeff since he probably thought I was absolutely crazy.

“You don’t have to be sorry, Petra. It’s overwhelming, I know,” Harry said, rubbing my arm comfortingly.

I hated crying in front of Harry. There was a prickling to my skin, like I was hyper aware he was watching me geek out and be an emotional nerd. He had seen me cry over things when we were younger, and back then he had given me shit about it. Now, he just stared at me and gave me soft smiles. I didn’t know which one was worse. Because at least I expected his taunts. The smiles I didn’t really know what to do with.

“Sorry,” I said again to Jeff after I finished crying. I was sure I looked a sight, with my wet hair and tear-streaked cheeks, but Jeff just smiled.

“S’alright, Petra. You okay?”

I nodded, unable to speak.

“Thanks for inviting us, man. I’m gonna take her home.”

Jeff waved us goodbye and Harry and I left, walking to his car in silence. My coffee was still in there, though it was so cold that none of the ice had melted. I buckled my seatbelt in silence, still feeling like an idiot for crying in front of him but also feeling elated because I had just met John Williams. Harry handed me another tissue that he kept in his middle console and I took it without speaking.

The drive back to my flat was incredibly awkward.

He pulled up to my flat parking structure in record time, but he didn’t make a move to get out of his car. He simply turned off the engine and sat for a little while, giving me time to gather my thoughts. “You okay?” he whispered.

I nodded. “It was...really nice of you to think of me. I appreciate it.”

“Then why do you look like I just told you I was gonna kill your dog?”

I snorted. “I don’t have a dog.”

“You know what I mean, Petra.”

I was embarrassed to tell him, but I knew that after the massive favor he had done for me today, he deserved the truth. “I was embarrassed to cry in front of you, especially about something like that. It just reminded me…”

“Of when you cried reading the last Harry Potter book and I made fun of you,” he answered when I trailed off. “Shit,” he mumbled out, his body slumping into his seat. He threw his hand over the bridge of his nose, pinching it with his index finger and thumb. We sat in silence for a little while longer. “I...I feel so fucking ashamed. How is it that I’ve managed to fuck over someone so completely that they’re afraid to show any emotion?”

“I don’t know,” I whispered, unable to refute his words.

“I’m so fucking sorry. I don’t even know why you came with me today. If I were you I would have given up on me a long time ago.”

I wanted to. I wanted to be angry with him, to stomp out of his car and slam his door shut and never speak to him again. I wanted to talk to Melody and call him a raging twat and curse the ground he walked on. But I thought of today, of how he had gone out of his way to introduce me to John Williams. I thought of him sitting alone in his house, watching the Lord of the Rings trilogy and I thought of him sending me those flowers after my disastrous date with Peter.

“I want to,” I decided to tell him. He deserved honesty. “But...I think deep down, I do know you’ve changed. It’s just going to take a long time to get over the past. I’ve been talking about it with my therapist.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. We’ve been discussing ways to help with my self-esteem and confidence. We're trying to work on forgiveness too. She says that I should only let you back into my life if I’m sure that it’s a good idea.”

“She sounds like a smart lady.”

“She’s the best.” I looked over to him, finding his eyes already on me. “It’s taking me time, Harry. It’s as much me as it is you. I’ve got to feel confident enough to let go of the past. But...I really appreciate today. And I appreciate you trying.”

He nodded. “I’m proud of you, going to therapy and all that.”

“Thanks. I just need to work on being proud of myself.”

I unlocked the door and opened it up, grabbing my iced coffee cup so I wouldn’t leave the trash in his car. “Thanks for thinking of me today. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“See you soon, Petra.”

Once I shut the door, he started the car back up and backed out of my flat complex. I stupidly watched his car drive away before I walked away.

When Melody had first told me about Cassandra and Vera, I had thought she was exaggerating. I figured no roommate could really be as awful as Melody was making them out to be. The first time I had met them, I was optimistic that they would prove Melody was just being picky about friends.

She hadn’t been.

I had only been to Melody’s flat a handful of times, due to the fact that mostly, we spent our time at my place. Her flat was more grandiose than mine, with three big rooms and two bathrooms, but it was cramped with Cassandra and Vera’s things. I couldn’t even see a touch of Melody in the foyer of the flat, which was where I was standing because when Vera had lazily answered the door, she had given me the barest of greetings before gesturing me inside and retreating back to her room. I could hear Cassandra prattling around in the kitchen, but couldn’t see her because I hadn’t actually been invited inside and unlike Melody being comfortable at my place, I wasn’t comfortable at hers.

“Melody’s coming,” Vera said, appearing almost out of thin air. In the two minutes she’d been done, she’d changed into leggings and a workout tank, but her eyes still looked sleepy, like she’d much rather go back to bed. “Cassandra’s making smoothies if you want some.” Before I could express my gratitude and politely decline, Vera whispered, “They’re shit. She puts kale in them.”

“Oh.”

Melody came out of her room and I don’t think I’d ever been so grateful to see someone in my life. I hated talking to Vera and Cassandra. At least Derek, Vera’s creepy boyfriend, wasn’t here to stare at my boobs. “We’re headed out. Please don’t set the flat on fire.”

Vera sneered, an ugly expression on a rather pretty girl. She had pretty auburn hair that verged more on brown than red until she was in the sun (which was rare in London). She had moved from Canada to go to school in London because her boyfriend had already completed his first year of uni. She was taller than me but shorter than Cassandra and had hazel eyes. “I’m not a child, Melody,” Vera snapped.

“Who’s there?” I heard Cassandra ask from the kitchen. She trailed into view, clad in nothing but tiny pajama shorts and a tank top that had a strap falling off her shoulder. Cassandra could have been a supermodel if she’d wanted to be. She was toned from playing volleyball since she could walk and had long blonde hair. The second her eyes landed on me, her mouth dropped open. “Oh my God, Petra! Is it true?”

“What?” I asked dumbly.

Cassandra rushed over to me with the speed only she and Usain Bolt could possess. “Is it true you’re dating Harry Styles?” she screeched. I think I may have lost hearing in my ear. “You’re everywhere! People got pictures of you in his car yesterday. Everyone’s trying to find out who Harry’s new mystery girl is, but the second I saw the photo, I knew it was you.”

“You were with the raging twat yesterday?” Melody asked, raising an eyebrow.

Cassandra tried to say “he’s not a raging twat!” at the same time Vera snorted out a laugh. Meanwhile, I was processing what Cassandra was saying.

There were pictures of me with Harry. I knew logically there were probably paparazzi that followed him around everywhere because of his career, but I hadn’t even thought of the possibility that we had been photographed. “Can you show me the pictures?” I asked Cassandra, who eagerly nodded and pulled out her phone, scrolling through twitter. #HarryStylesMysteryGirl was trending.

“Christ, Petra,” Melody mumbled under her breath as we scrolled through the Twitter tag. “Do you know how many people have to be tweeting about that to get it trending?”

I didn’t want to know.

Melody seemed to sense I was either going to pass out or throw Cassandra’s phone across the room, so she gently pried it out of my fingers and handed it back to her roommate. “Right, well, we’ve got to head out. See you later,” Melody told her two roommates, grabbing me by the elbow and tugging me towards the door.

“Say hi to Harry for me, will you? And if you could get his autograph, that would be ace!” Cassandra called before the door to Melody’s flat shut behind her.

“You see what I have to deal with?” Melody asked, pinching the bridge of her nose. We stood there in silence for a couple of seconds before she eventually let out a deep breath. “Okay. Want to start at the beginning?”

That’s what I loved about Melody. She let me explain things at my own pace. I told her about the events leading up to the pictures that had apparently been taken of us, on our way to meet John Williams. I told her about the weird moment Harry had bandaged my cut and how he knew my grandmother’s name was Yelina. I also told her about our (technically second) hesitant truce with one another before he had driven off.

She listened quietly. And then, she sighed. “I know it seems like he’s trying, Petra. And maybe he really is. But you’ve got to be careful, okay? The things he and his friends said about you...those aren’t things someone easily comes back from. If his fans knew about some of the stuff he’d allowed that dick Nathan to say, they’d burn him alive. And now there’s pictures of you out there and fans are nasty.”

“I promise I’m being careful.”

“That’s all I can ask for. Also, don’t go on Twitter for a while. At least until the hashtag dies down. I don’t want you to see anything negative.”

Another thing I hadn’t thought about. If fans saw the picture of me with Harry, I knew most of them would be supportive even if there was absolutely nothing going on and there would never be anything going on. But some fans would be nasty and make fun of me simply because they were jealous. This was a promise I could easily make to Melody. “I won’t.”

“Good. Now can we go get food? I’m starving.”

We stared at each other for a moment before we started laughing. It was always nice to know Melody and I were usually on the same wavelength.

My phone beeping woke me up.

I had been folding laundry on my couch while the old Wonder Woman show played on the telly. I guess mid-fold I had fallen asleep on my couch, which would explain why the piles of clothes I had worked so hard on now looked like clumpy messes. The telly was still on, but it was some other show now and my phone was lit up on the table in front of me. I blearily glanced at the time, cursing when I realized I had fallen asleep around seven and therefore probably wouldn’t be going back to sleep anytime soon, since it was already one in the morning.

harrystyles: I’m so sorry Petra.

Blinking, I tried to go over in my head what he had to be sorry for (besides the obvious). Why? I typed back, still feeling a little sleepy and more than a little confused.

harrystyles: They got pictures of us and found out your name. You’re all over Twitter.

I had known they had pictures of me, but last I checked I was still the “mystery girl.” Despite the promise to Melody, I opened up Twitter and saw my name was trending. I didn’t dare click on it for fear that I would find nasty tweets that I didn’t need to see.

harrystyles: I totally understand if you’re upset.

Not your fault, I typed back. I figured if he was feeling bad enough to message me about it at one in the morning, I should at least cut him a little slack. Plus, my message was true. It wasn’t his fault. He had been in such a rush to get me to John that he had forgotten, for a moment, who he was and what the consequences of that were.

harrystyles: Still. You okay?

I’m fine, I replied. Don’t worry about it.

harrystyles: I just don’t want this to ruin our chances of ever being friends.

For Christ’s sake, Styles, stop blaming yourself. Don’t you have better things to do at one in the morning?

He never responded, but I assumed he had fallen asleep. As for me, I decided to finish up the laundry, fixing up my piles that had been crushed underneath my back. It was a rare night when Melody wasn’t staying at my place, so the flat felt quiet without her there. Once I finished up with my piles, I walked them down to my room, glancing down at my phone when it beeped again.

harrystyles: I’m outside.

Outside where?

harrystyles: Your place, obviously.

Sure enough, I heard a knock on my door fifteen seconds later. When I looked out my window, there was a different car in the lot than the Mercedes. I guess it made sense that he would have more than one, but seeing another expensive car made me wonder just how much money Harry made doing his music. I padded my way over to my front door, opening it up. I was sure I looked a mess, with my glasses askew on my nose and my hair in a terrible messy bun that resembled a rat’s nest more than hair, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. It wasn’t like I was bombarding someone at one in the morning.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

“I wanted to make sure you really weren’t mad at me.” He had one hand slung in the pocket of his joggers and was wearing a black sweatshirt that actually looked really comfortable. His other hand was behind his back.

“You couldn’t have done that at a normal time of day?”

“I figured we were both up. I brought you something.”

Raising a brow, I waited until he pulled his hand out from behind his back. Once he did, my tired eyes widened. In his hands was a tiny little potted succulent, a pretty green flower that also looked like a cactus. He shoved it into my hands like he was a nervous teenage boy, the hand that was holding it immediately retreating back into his pocket.

“I know you liked the other flowers and this one is harder to kill,” he explained.

“I didn’t kill the other one!” I was slightly offended. Did he think I just went around killing plants? “I’m a great plant mum.”

His small dimple appeared when he lifted the corner of his mouth in a grin. “Well I didn’t know that and I didn’t want it dying on you.” I moved to put the little succulent on the table near my front door. “You’re really okay with the Twitter thing?”

“It’s not ideal,” I said, shrugging my shoulders, “but there’s nothing we can do about it now.”

“I know your own Instagram’s on private, but try not to post anything too personal to the Alien Crossing account. Don’t look on Twitter. I don’t know if you already have or not, but sometimes people say nasty things.”

“Harry, believe it or not, I’ve got practice with people saying shitty things about me in regards to you.”

I said the sentence without really thinking about it. I think I had meant it offhandedly, like a kind of last minute joke or something, but I knew the second it left my mouth that it was the wrong thing to say. His shoulders slumped, like he was a helium balloon that someone was slowly draining, and the grin dropped from his face almost immediately. “Right,” he said in a cold voice. “I’d better go. Just wanted to check in.”

Even with our small truce, we still found a way to fuck things up. His reaction made me annoyed. What right did he have to that kind of reaction? He was the one who had said the shitty things about me. He didn’t deserve to feel chagrined when I tried to make a joke out of it. “Probably,” I said stiffly, my voice a couple of degrees colder.

He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but thought better of it. Without so much as another blink in my direction, he turned on his heel and walked back to his car.

I had to remind myself to unclench my jaw as I closed my front door. I don’t know why his reaction had made me so angry, but it was just a reminder that Harry Styles, at his core, was selfish. He only cared about himself and how my actions made him feel. How I made him uncomfortable when I brought up how awful he had been. My steps were heavy with anger when I marched back to my room, opening up my laptop with a little more force than necessary.

Here’s something one should know about me. When I felt like I was being attacked or I had made someone upset, instead of trying to cheer myself up, I wanted to know all the nasty things people were thinking about me. Doctor Thorne called this “bad validation.” Like if Harry thought I was being mean for making that joke, suddenly I had to see someone else saying my voice sounded annoying on AC. It was like this terrible reassurance that I so badly didn’t want to seek out, but I couldn’t help it.

Which was why I opened Twitter.

My name was the first trending hashtag.

I had never once Googled myself. Googling myself felt weird. Also, I had never really had a reason to. While AC was popular, it wasn’t so popular that I could walk in the street and be recognized. Mostly, it was my voice that people recognized. This meant that I had never really seen people commenting on my appearance, which was why most of my self-confidence issues were about my actions and personality.

Until now.

She looks way too plain to be seen with him. Please tell me they aren’t dating.

Gross. She looks like a drowned dog.

Who the fuck is this bitch? And why does she go out in public looking like that?

I slammed my computer shut.

My room was silent, save for my angry breathing and the beating of my heart. Standing stiffly from my desk chair, I walked back out into my living room and to my couch, where I still had some piles of clothes that needed to be put away.

The echeveria plant stared back at me when I looked up at it.

I didn’t like the fact that my heart stuttered a little when I looked at it. It just reminded me that he had come, at one in the morning, to make sure I was okay. And then everything had gone wrong, like everything in my life inevitably did. Forcing myself to walk over to it, I picked up the tiny white pot it was in and set it next to my shelf, where I had the picture of my grandmother.

And then I sat on my couch and tried not to cry as I folded the rest of my laundry.

#ac #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles ou #1dff

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ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 5 years ago

Note

I'm sorry you've had a rotten day D:! If it's not too much to ask could you do Fireman Tony losing a bet and having to pose for a calendar set to raise money for a charity (perhaps Peter is the photographer and in charge of said charity)???

do the thing - send in all the prompts.

That’s very sweet of you, nonnie! This was the perfect way to cheer me up, so thank you for that, too! It got a little porny - I hope you don’t mind :P

warnings: NSFW blowies and firefighter Tony goodness

Around the firehouse, frat rules applied. Which meant that toilet seats were never safe and bets were ongoing and made frequently. As the Chief of the station, Tony got to be the facilitator of many of the things that went on around the firehouse. When he set up the calendar photo shoot to benefit the local children’s home, he never figured he’d be actively participating – but that’s what he got for being a hot head and betting on something he never should have.

It all started when Bucky brought UNO in during one of their lull shifts. It took a lot of convincing, because most guys hadn’t played the game in years – but once it got started, things got nasty very quickly. Give men the ability to get competitive and it’s fucking on. They were playing last man standing rules – so everyone with cards in their hands kept playing until there was an ultimate loser.

The round that Tony decided to sit in on was one of the biggest yet. They jammed together six decks of cards and let the game goes at it might. Steve had already bet Bucky that he wouldn’t give the crew a show on the pole, and Clint stood in his boxers for the rest of the night. Aside from all the laughs and the sore stomach muscles, Tony was starting to get a little worried. He’d been hit with three ‘draw four’ cards in a row, and the lack of organization of the cards in his hand made it hard to play quickly – or intelligently for that matter. He held so many cards, it was a wonder that most of them were total shit.

One by one, the guys checked out until it was Rhodey and Tony left – the two leaders of the station going head to head. There were shouts and cheers all over the place, both men starting to lose their cards quickly now that there were only two people and the deck was pretty small. “What’s the bet?” Tony heard when there were only four cards left between them. Looking up, Tony blushed when he saw the look in Rhodey’s eyes – the four years of college they spent together reminding him that his best friend could be ruthless when he wanted to.

Finally, Rhodey filled in the rest of the class – the room going quite when he lowered the deck and looked straight at Tony. “Loser poses for all twelve months of the charity calendar,” Rhodey said, a smirk on his lips. The two of them spent a couple hours planning out the poses just days ago – there were some a couple of very questionable ones that he all of the sudden regretted choosing. Sucking in a breath, Tony did the only thing he could and accepted, his head already hanging in defeat – he was sitting on two yellow 7’s.

It didn’t matter that Bucky slipped Rhodey a ‘draw four’ card in the end, Tony already figured he was doomed to his fate. The men broke into applause when Rhodey slammed down his last card – a triumphant look on his face. “I can’t wait to see this,” he exclaimed, his smile reaching the shit eating territory pretty fast.

Which is why, a week later, Tony found himself being fitted into the outfit and put into a chair that would inevitably lead to him being made up into a shiner, more glistening version of himself. Though he felt resigned to his fate, it would have been nice to be on the other side of this situation, laughing at the fool getting his picture taken – instead of being the one getting laughed at. Either way, he spent a little extra time in the gym over the last week, so he and his body were more than ready.

Walking out into the mostly cleared out station in just his suit and nothing else on underneath, Tony felt himself flush – there were less people in the room than he figured and the whole thing seemed way more natural than some of the other shoots that went down in the firehouse over the years. There weren’t any fancy lights or loud assistants bullying him into this position or that – simply a man, a camera, and the computer the images would manifest on.

For the first time, Tony noticed the younger man – and he was obviously younger, the shine of youth still diligently clinging to molten brown eyes. He was a bit on the shorter side and very lean – though he could immediately recognize the bulge of a bicep when he raised his hand in greeting.

His hands were big – like they were made to be wrapped around the priceless piece of equipment he was holding (or other things – but now wasn’t the time for those sorts of thoughts.) The most important thing for Tony was his smile, though – when it broke, his lips spread until they were practically touching his ears – and his cheeks colored, that fire engine red so beautiful; a swift reminder of the thing he loved the most.

“Hey, Chief Stark,” the photographer started, long legs carrying him over until they were standing face to face. “I’m Peter Parker – I’ll be doing your photos today.” He stuck a hand out between them, that smile on his face spreading a little bit more when Tony finally caught his eye. He carried an air of confidence that not a lot of people his age could even think to achieve, let alone project.

Taking his hand, Tony felt himself smile, too – his customary resting bitch face slipping for just a second. “Nice to meet you, Pete – I hope you’re planning on making me look pretty,” Tony replied, his brow quirking, the smile on his face shifting from soft to playful. He even let himself chuckle when Peter’s blush deepened – the red taking on more of a maroon tint to it now.

“I don’t think you need any help from me,” Peter remarked without thought, his own eyebrows raising in challenge. And who was he to fight with such a thought like that? Especially when it was being delivered from that of an beautiful individual. Nodding in answer, Tony let his thumbs slip under the suspenders of the fire suit, his eyes wide.

“Good answer, Peter Parker – good answer.” He shook his head, turning it after a second to give himself a visual break. It was going to be hard to focus on looking at the camera with anything other than hunger, this kid was too gorgeous for his own good. “So, where do you want me?”

The next hour flew by without Tony noticing much of anything other than the softly spoken cues and explanations of the poses that Peter wanted him to go through. He wet himself with the hose and leaned against the 141 engine, he climbed the ladder with one of the suspenders slid off his shoulder and his suit dragging down until it was almost too obscene – he even let Rhodey throw a bucket of sudsy water on him. Despite some of the humiliating catcalls he got from some of the guys, Tony enjoyed every single second of it.

At the end of it all, Peter finally came up for air, his eyes no longer seemingly like a secondary attachment to the camera in his hand. The kid was talented – there was no doubt about that. Tony didn’t need to see the photos to know just how good they were going to turn out. The natural way he took in the light and allowed Tony to be himself spoke of experience and understanding.

He caught a smile from the young photographer and saw his hand beckoning him over – the kid’s eyes wide with what seemed liked excitement. “You’ve got to check a couple of these out,” Peter proclaimed, his fingers already clicking through the digital roll on the computer. Tony watched them all pass across the screen in hyper speed – the poses moving from one to the next like a flip book. He settled on one and turned the computer so Tony could see it more fully.

Tony immediately recognized the moment – the water was just splashed on his face and he raised a hand to get it out of his eyes – his fingers were tangled in his hair and the water was flinging back off the strands, his face completely lit up from the shock and excitement of the moment. His jaw dropped a little – in all of his time participating in something like this, he never encountered a picture of himself he liked so much. His instincts were absolutely correct – Peter Parker was immensely talented.

“Damn, I look amazing,” Tony couldn’t stop himself from mumbling. Peter’s answering giggle had him turning his head, his cheeks on fire. Peter was looking at him funnily, a hand over his mouth to stop the further chuckles from falling out, probably.

“You’re the hottest person I’ve ever taken photos of, Chief,” Peter whispered. His hand moved from his mouth into his hair, the strands standing on their end after fingers were dragged through them. His bright eyes were mostly pupil and if Tony were reading the room right – it appeared that Peter Parker did in fact like what he saw.

Looking around, Tony noticed that most of the guys were occupied – half of the crew out on a call and the other outside in the gym or playing pick up on the court. He wet his lips and went for it – what could it hurt? “You’re smooth, I’ll give you that, Parker. Want to see the rest of the station? I can show you where the five-time fire station chili cooking championship winning chili was cooked, if you’re interested.”

Peter took the offer for what it was and followed Tony further into the station – the older man pointing out the couple things of interest on his way through the bunks into his office. There was no time for Tony to formulate his next move because his back was hitting the door – the force of impact closing it the rest of the way. Tony smirked when fingers gripped the still wet suspenders, Peter’s eyes totally taken over by the blown pupil now – the invitingly warm brown completely gone. He managed to drag in a chocked off breath before lips were descending upon his own.

How Tony ended up pressed against his office door with the photographer on his knees in front of him, he never would have guessed. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he didn’t spend too much time worrying about it, either. His fingers were tangled in the thick curls of Peter’s hair, his hips doing their best not to give in and thrust into the delicious suction. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t keep the moans from slipping from his lips – Peter’s attention on him too damn good.

The younger man’s hand was wrapped around the base of his cock, his fingers tight in their grip. His mouth slid down until his lips were bumping against the fingers there, his cheeks hollowing out to smoothly suck as Peter pulled his head back up and lavished the tip of his cock with his tongue. He would pull off every couple of passes and let the flat of his tongue run from root to tip, Peter careful to spend several agonizing seconds lapping at the ridge right at the head.

There was drool dripping from his chin onto the floor below them – the whole sight absolutely indecent. Tony let his head rest against the heavy oak of the door, his eyes squeezing shut tightly. “Pete – you have the dirtiest little mouth,” Tony babbled, his hips finally giving in to the temptation to press forward into the last couple inches of Peter’s throat. The slight gag had a bead of precum dripping from his length – the feeling a glorious prelude to the lewd pulse of orgasm. Peter moaned around him, the vibrations adding to the deliciousness.

“You were meant to choke on a cock, weren’t you? You look pretty doing it – your eyes a little watery, drool dribbling down your chin. It’s fucking filthy – wonderfully salacious. And you like that, don’t you? Dropping to your knees like this, letting me gag you with my cock.” Tony emphasized the words with a change in the grip of Peter’s hair and a sharp thrust of his hips.

At that point, Tony could do nothing other than hold on for the ride, his body moving on autopilot – mind so strung out from the suddenness of having his brain sucked out through his cock and the severely pornographic sight of Peter unzipping his pants and fisting his own raging erection. A part of him wanted to draw away and spend a little time watching the scene – but he was too far gone, his balls already drawing up with his impending orgasm.

“Fuck, Pete- I’m close. So close,” Tony panted out, his hips coming to a stuttering stop when Peter took him all the way down his throat and swallowed around him. Pulse after pulse of warm cum slide down the boy’s throat – the tension of Peter’s constricting throat muscles pulling even more from him.

Through the haze of his afterglow, Tony watched Peter pull back and gasp, his hand flying over his cock. Watching him cum all over himself and the floor had Tony’s belly clenching with renewed arousal – everything about what was in front of him absolute perfection. Leaning heavily against the door, Tony loosened the grip of his hand in Peter’s hair – his fingers moving until they were resting lightly against the back of his head, instead. “Fuck,” he muttered again, his entire body on the verge of falling over from too much stimulus and a whole lot of fatigue.

After a few minutes, Peter looked up at him, eyes shining – “Will you fuck me against the truck next?”

Suddenly, thoughts of sleep were the furthest from his mind.

#starker #peter parker/tony stark #tony stark/peter parker #peter parker x tony stark #tony stark x peter parker #firefighter tony stark #photographer peter parker #ironspider #ask prompts #bobbie writes #nonnie #anonymous

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peteywillproceed · 5 years ago

Text

Hot Mess

Author’s Note: I really don’t know what this is, but I had fun writing it! If you’ve heard Hot Mess by Cobra Starship you will know EXACTLY where this came from! I’d just like to say thank you for everyone’s lovely comments, you guys really are so so sweet! Anyway, hope you enjoy! x

Summary: A party you never expected to attend turns into more than you could’ve believed.

Word Count: 3,612

You peaked through the slats in the blinds, glancing up the street as the familiar roar of the engine rumbled in your ears. Electric blue streaked towards your house, the speed totally inappropriate for your tiny road, but the face behind the wheel was set with a shit eating grin and it sent shivers down your spine.

Tom made it look so effortless, one hand carelessly on the wheel, the other running through his mass of brown curls. He was chewing something today, drawing your eye to the way his tongue ran deliciously over his lips, and you stared mesmerised as he swung into a gap in the street and pulled out his phone.

Your pocket buzzed, and you disappeared from the window, knowing exactly what the text said.

Running your hands one last time over your dress, you fled down the stairs and out onto the street, barely remembering to lock up behind you. The car door slammed somewhere across your road and you spun on your heel, stuffing the keys into your pocket, and catching sight of Tom leaning against the open passenger seat.

“Well, hello darling,” he drawled, and you felt heat creep into your cheeks.

“Hello yourself, Thomas,” you winked, walking towards him and pointing at the open door “How polite of you.”

“Wouldn’t get used to it, mum told me to be nice today.”

“How sweet, still doing what mummy dearest tells you.”

You laughed as he clicked his teeth, sliding onto the expensive leather and spreading your skirt across your legs. He’d left the air con on and goosebumps rose on your arms whilst he shut the door behind you and crossed round to the other side. You took a moment to run your eyes over him, privately enjoying the way the crisp, white shirt stretched across his chest, his fingers fiddling with the cuff links as he moved. He was wearing the navy suit you’d only seen him wear at weddings, and you wondered what could be so important he had to drag his ex-girlfriend out of bed at eight o’clock on a Sunday night.

Plenty of people had asked how you knew Tom, especially when they saw he was still your phone background. Mostly, you played it off as simply knowing him through school, and very few people actually knew the truth. For about two years whilst Tom had been filming Homecoming, you’d been seeing him privately, neither of you wanting to make a big deal out of it considering the circumstances. It had ended mutually enough, although you still wished you hadn’t spent those three weeks crying, and you’d been friends for a good three years by this point.

Never, though, had he asked to see you so urgently.

“So you gonna tell me what’s so important I have to curl my hair, Tommy?” You arched your eyebrow as he climbed into the car and threw you a look.

“Y/n, since when have you called me Tommy?”

“Since I want to know why I’m not in bed!”

He sighed, gunning the engine and shoving the car in reverse. Slamming his foot on the accelerator, you shot out of the space and down the road, swinging round corners and passing red lights like road rules meant nothing. Yeah, you hadn’t missed his driving.

“It’s a stupid party my mum’s organising, I couldn’t think of anyone else to bring.”

“You? Multi-millionaire ladies’ man Tom Holland didn’t know who to bring?” You scoffed as he hit your leg.

“Hey! When you’re hot shit you’ve got choice!” he protested.

“More like hot mess,” you pointed out, and he pursed his lips.

“You liked it enough when we were dating.”

“And that’s precisely why we are no longer dating.”

He laughed, glancing over to you as the city lights raced by. Truth was, you might have been the one to end things, but you’d never lost what you felt. Anytime you saw him on the cover of some glossy magazine, posing for the next promotional poster, you felt the familiar tug on your heart strings, the constant sting of the reminder of what you’d given up. But then he said stuff like that, and you wondered why you’d even cared in the first place.

“God, I wish we could do anything else right now,” Tom groaned, throwing his head back against the head rest as he brought the car to a halt at a red light. You gulped, tracing your eyes over the rippling skin, and tore your eyes away before they betrayed you.

“Well, what’s stopping us?” You shrugged, reaching over for the radio and turning the knob. “God, what is this shit?”

“That’s good music I’ll have you know,” Tom slapped your hand away and the car shot forward. You grabbed your seat, watching nervously as the speedometer climbed slowly past the sixties, into the seventies, until it was just a blur of small, white numbers, and Tom was laughing in your ear.

“I forgot you hate my driving, darling.”

When you didn’t respond, he simply smirked and pushed his foot further on the accelerator, rock music blaring louder in the background, and you wondered if that would be the soundtrack to your death. “If you’re going to crash, please put the tree through your half of the window.”

“I’m not sure I can control physics, darling.”

“Call me darling one more time and I’ll prove to you I can.”

Tom laughed at that one, and a warm, fuzzy feeling you hadn’t felt in a long time crept through your veins. It was slow, but it felt like you were vibrating against the seat, and you could barely focus as he turned the car onto a mountain road and you started climbing into the sky.

“What’s this party even for, anyway?” you murmured, long nails digging into your palms to distract you from the way he bit his lip.

“The Brother’s Trust, we’re trying to get new donations for a hospital, there’s only a couple of grand to go.”

That stopped you, confusion hitting you like a truck. “What?”

“Darling, you spent two years with me, I’m not that much of a selfish bastard y’know.”

You nodded, processing the information. This dude, this annoying, frustrating, uptight dude had helped to raise enough money for a hospital, and you had simply missed it. The warm fuzzy feeling was back, and you almost groaned at how much your body ached to stand next to him, inexplicably drawn to the way his fingers curved around the steering wheel. You were still blitzing down a narrow road, but the scenery had faded until you were only focused on him, and nothing else. Maybe you were going crazy after all.

After what felt like an age, Tom swung into a bay in front of a brightly lit restaurant with people streaming in through the front doors. You’d spent the rest of the trip mostly in silence, until Tom had asked you to pass him his phone, and you’d laid into him about the dangers.

“Ready, darling?” he appeared on your side, arm held out to help you out of the car, and you couldn’t help the roll of your eyes.

“Still trying, Thomas?”

“Always.”

Loud, vibrant music pulsed through the glass doors, urging your body to move to the beat the minute you stepped into the room. Hundreds of people littered the dance floor, dressed in evening gowns of all shapes and colours, and you suddenly felt underdressed, your simple, white outfit feeling too boring.

“You look beautiful,” Tom whispered against your ear, sending shivers across your body.

“Am I even going to know anyone here?” you asked, trying to push the thoughts that were running wild in your mind to one side.

“Sam, Harry, Paddy, my parents maybe. I think some of the cast might be here somewhere…” he trailed off, casting his eyes round the room when you were suddenly grabbed by the elbow and let out a small shriek.

“You must be Y/n!” a face you placed instantly appearing in front of you. “I’m Zendaya, Tom has told me so much about you!”

She pulled you in tightly for a hug, and you let out a strangled chuckle and glanced nervously at Tom. “He has?”

“Oh yeah, tonnes!” she beamed, and now you were really confused. Who talked about their ex-girlfriend voluntarily?

Behind you, Tom cleared his throat, and a jolt of surprise ran through you to see the blush evident on his cheeks. “Daya,” he greeted, kissing her on the cheek “Do you have to be taller than me every time I see you?”

“Grow then!” she replied, turning back to you with a grin “I’m far more interested in Y/n!”

“You are?” you asked, but before the actress could reply you were interrupted by two familiar, boyish faces, and the exasperated sigh of the one trying to shepherd them.

“Y/n!” Harry yelled, nearly jumping on you in excitement “I didn’t know it was you Thomas was bringing!”

“Neither did I until yesterday,” you laughed, embracing them in turn. “Nicki, it’s so good to see you!”

“You too, Y/n,” she smiled, although she sounded confused as she shot Tom a wary glance. “I think we’re all surprised to see you! I told Tom to bring a date!”

“Mum!” Tom hissed, and you laughed nervously.

“It’s fine, I’m just here to support Tom. I had no idea you guys had raised so much money!”

“Well it’s mostly due to Thomas,” Sam shrugged, punching his brother in the shoulder “not all of us have twenty three million women running after us.”

“And men, don’t forget them,” Tom winked, and everyone burst into laughter.

“Speaking of, is Jacob here tonight?” Zendaya cut in, and you suppressed a giggle as Harry turned to gawp at her.

“Err…some…somewhere,” he stuttered, and you nudged Tom with a smirk. He seemed to have clocked it too, narrowing his eyes at the exchange as Zendaya remained blissfully unaware.

“Great, imma go find him and make sure he’s not drunk off his arse yet,” she grinned, waving as she raced away across the dance floor, pulling Nicki with her.

“If you’re going to try and sleep with my co-workers, mate, I’m gonna need a few more drinks,” Tom look pointedly at Harry, who was still staring after Zendaya’s fading back.

“I wasn’t!” Harry protested, and you shook you head.

“Yeah right!”

“Oi, shush you! Just because Tom’s totally into you again does not give you the right to rat me out!”

You started laughing at first, not realising what he’d said, but the stunned silence quickly had you trailing off as you ran the words back through your head and it hit you like a tonne of bricks. “What did you say?”

“Oh, nothing,” Harry backtracked, thrusting a clear liquid into Tom’s hand and backing away. “Enjoy the party you two!”

You turned to Tom, arms folded across your chest as the boys disappeared, seeing embarrassment written across his face. “What did you tell them, Tom?”

“Nothing, I swear!” he gulped down the liquid and tossed the cup in the bin. “They’re just idiots.”

You frowned, surprised at the disappointment that coursed through your veins. When Harry had said it, you couldn’t deny the spark of hope that had lit in your chest. But before it could spark into a fire, Tom quenched it with just a few words, and you suddenly felt deflated.

“Well can I at least get a vodka and coke then? If I’m gonna deal with that bullshit all night, I wanna be at least a little drunk.”

Maybe, if you let the alcohol take over, you’d forget about the tingles that shot through you every time Tom smiled at you.

***

You lost track of time pretty quickly after that, spending most of the evening wrapped round Zendaya’s arm. You were sure it was early morning, but you’d thrown back too many shots to care, and now you were on the dancefloor whilst some pop song blared in the background and you shook your body to the beat.

“You seriously can’t dance!” Zendaya yelled over the music, and you threw your head back with laughter.

“Tom says that toooooooooo!”

She raised an eyebrow, smirking dangerously. “I thought you two were broken up?”

“Oh we are!” you giggled, too drunk to notice the implication in her voice. “But we’re still friends!”

“Babe, that’s what they all say.”

The song was slowly fading out into something much sultrier and darker, and you froze, feeling eyes on you from somewhere in the room. You spun around wildly to see Tom watching you from across the bar, hair splattering across your face and sticking against your slightly damp forehead.

You waved happily whilst Zendaya laughed next to you, but Tom’s eyes were still fixed on you, and a wave of cockiness washed over you. It was the way he looked in that God damned suit, clean lines off set by his mess of curls, and you couldn’t help but imagine the way you’d move against him if he were right next to you. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe the feeling had always been there, but now you were running your hands over your dress and trying to lose yourself in the music, hoping he’d take the hint.

The lights had dimmed and you were sure nobody could see, but so what if they did? You couldn’t keep denying how you felt about Tom, and it was about time you let your hair down. So when the warm hands wrapped around your waist, you sank back into his chest and gave in to the feeling that was so familiar yet completely alien.

“Thomas,” you whispered, gently moving your waist against his grip.

“Y/n,” he replied, bending down till he was whispering in your ear. “Just exactly how much have you had to drink?”

You giggled, not sure whether you were drunk on Tom’s whispers or the alcohol. “Not a loooottttt.”

“You mean to tell me you were eye-fucking me from over here whilst completely sober?”

You knew you couldn’t answer him without giving away just how fast your heart was beating right now, and instead you spun to face him, looping your arms around his neck, and taking pride in the look of shock that passed over his face. You pressed your forehead against his, wondering just how much you’d regret this come morning, and let out a breathy sigh.

“Cat got your tongue?” he whispered, but it came out more like a stutter. You moved your hips in time to the music, casting a quick glance over your shoulder to make sure nobody was looking over at you.

“Just want a little dance,” you winked, moving his hands so they cupped your hips.

Silence stretched between you, neither one of you breaking the eye contact, determined not to be the first one to give in. You trailed your hand down Tom’s chest, hearing him suck in a breath as you moved lower, and you smirked, suddenly remembering why.

“I forgot you were ticklish, Tommy.”

“I suggest you don’t go there, I’d rather not make a scene.”

You bit your lip, looking up through your eyelashes and held Tom’s gaze. You tried not to get distracted by the pools of brown or the smug smirk that stretched across his face, instead focusing on the way he moved against you. You felt sparks of electricity race through you, lighting little fires that burnt every fibre of you skin. Hot desire spread like wildfire to your toes and back, finally falling into place in the little pit you tried desperately to forget about. But when his hands slid below your waist and squeezed your butt, you were a gonner.

Suddenly, your lips collided with his, and for a moment you couldn’t tell who was kissing who. You were tangled together, moving like it was your last few days on the Earth, and you clung to him like he was your oxygen. It was intense yet familiar all at once, and you wondered why you had ever let this, him, go. You were breathless and desperate, barely fighting him as he backed you up against the wall and pressed his body further against yours.

“Is this okay?” he whispered, and you glanced nervously over his shoulder.

“Can they see us?”

It was dark in the corner, and you were pretty sure nobody would notice two bodies tangled together in the dusty nooks of a random restaurant. But even with your heart beating out of your chest and your brain alight with a thousand naughty thoughts, you knew you needed to be careful. There was a reason you’d ended it in the first place; you didn’t need to end up in the papers now.

“I don’t think so,” he dropped his voice, but he seemed to think better of kissing you again. Instead, he grabbed your hand and tugged you towards an open door, pushing you inside and locking it behind him.

Before you could think, he’d gathered you in his arms again and pinned you against the door, his hands wandering across your body. You didn’t fight it, giving in to the familiar touch and hot breath against your cheeks; you wondered how red you were, suddenly grateful for the lightless cupboard you’d stumbled into. You let your hands fall to his trousers, fumbling with his belt until he grabbed your wrist and jerked back.

“Wait.”

The look in his eyes was urgent, and you felt foolish, feeling heat flare across your body. “Sorry, I, uh, I thought, uh, actually I don’t know what I thought.”

“No, no, it’s not that I don’t want to,” his words came out in a rush, and you stifled a laugh. Even now, three years older but still a complete idiot, he’d always be a dork. “It’s just…you ended things because of this. You didn’t want to be public. Why now?”

You were tempted to say it was the alcohol messing with your head, that by morning this would all be over, neither of you would remember anything, and you’d go about your business like normal. Except he was staring at you like a man possessed, and you couldn’t deny the desperation you saw there. And what about you? You couldn’t just forget about the way he made you feel, the small sparks he set you alight with anytime his skin touched yours. And kissing him just then had felt like you were floating so high you wouldn’t come back down. Giving all that up, all over again, felt like way too much.

At least if you told him now, there was chance.

“I’m still in love with you,” you blurted, and you could swear his eyes lit up. And then, much quieter “I don’t think I ever stopped.”

He was quiet for a moment, until he brought his lips to yours and placed the lightest, sweetest kiss you’d ever felt against your skin. He gripped your chin, fingers gently holding you in place, and pulled back so your noses touched, and your fingers were interlocked.

“Well that’s good then,” he nodded, and you practically melted under his touch. “Because neither did I.”

Then his lips were back on yours and you were kissing once more, fire scorching your nerves and the feeling in your core sending forks of lightning through your back. You were completely and utterly lost in the feeling of him, caught in his headlights as the taste of vanilla and mint filled your body.

As he started tugging at your dress and his lips moved to your mouth, you knew you were done in, and if this moment meant you gave your heart away, then so be it. His smell was so intoxicating you were melting with every stroke, every kiss, and you wondered if this was what it felt like to be high.

Slowly, as you sank to the floor, you ran your hand through your hair and wondered how you’d let this all become so fucked up, when it had always been so simple. You knew how you looked right now, and you didn’t care; this was what you’d wanted, and there was no way you were letting this go.

“You’re a mess, y/l/n,” Tom whispered, fingers slipping over smooth fabric, and it was almost too good an opportunity to miss. With a sultry smile, you leant forward, choking back a moan as you placed your mouth near his ear.

“A hot mess, actually Holland,” you hummed.

Then you were lost, falling completely into him as you made the choice that would change everything.

And you just didn’t care.

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@zabdisamor @jinxfanfics

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