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lokidiabolus · 3 years

Text

Last Resort - Chapter 2

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: I think I never did so much rewriting like I did with this chapter. I'm still not satisfied with it, but I swear my brain just can't come up with anything else. Scrapped like 6 pages asdfjslfjslfjsdl. Now it's short :c

Anyway, guess I just wanted a bit of Thomas' insight for it. He's complicated lol. Or maybe not really, just trying to keep up. Don't we all though lol.

Oh and @izzymultifan (actually remembered)

Unbetad!

EDIT: (17. 5. 2021) I edited the ending with a lil continuation of the scene I previously deleted, because I thought it was unnecessary, but then I returned to it after few days and thought it should stay. It's not very long but I guess it's kinda important.

***

Thomas woke up disoriented, thirsty and definitely not rested enough, like when his alarm goes off on a workday and he only slept for four hours. But here was no alarm, no work, just him waking up with a flinch and realizing he wasn’t in his flat, and he wasn’t alone either.

The blond hair right in his face immediately pushed him into realization he was holding onto Newt like he was his lifeline, one hand under the shirt on his belly, other on his chest clutching the fabric, and an unmistakable morning hello tenting his pants, digging right into Newt’s backside. In retrospect there wasn’t much worse Thomas could have done to him, except maybe having a hand down his pants (which admittedly he used to do sometimes when they were together, but then again, that situation definitely didn’t scream murder like it would now).

In a sleepy confusion that hazed his just-woken-up-brain he searched the foggy memory on how this situation came to be, no matter how familiar it felt to him. Newt made himself pretty clear about sleeping together, so the sudden closeness – well, more like an absolute merge, unless he’d slip in – no, no dirty thoughts, bad Thomas, bad – didn’t make much sense.

The night came back to him embarrassingly slow – he got drunk because for some reason his dad decided to decimate his super precious whiskey, even though normally he hoarded it like a dragon his gold. He could only think of Newt being the incentive, drinking the whiskey so fast in his dad’s eyes, while Thomas downed it all to save him from barfing (Newt’s alcohol tolerance never existed in the first place, he disliked about any kind of it, and as far as Thomas remembered he got drunk only once with vodka mixed with orange juice on Aris’ wedding, because he could barely taste the vodka in it until it was too late). Then the world started spinning, Newt dragged him to his room somehow… which sounded farfetched, so maybe dad helped, he drew blank around that area honestly, probably because he stood up and all the alcohol began circulating faster. Then they talked… probably, and then Thomas fell asleep, since that’s all he could recall.

And now his hard-on was trying to get some, and he held Newt against himself with sheer ferocity of an obsessive hugger off his meds and the realization dawned on him like tons of bricks. Was he going to wake him up if he let go? Newt always woke up at the slightest noise before, there was no way of going to pee at night without getting back to the blond blinking owlishly at him, asking what happened. Was this Newt he barely knew anymore still the same? Still twitchy and light sleeper and grumpy and slow to rise when getting up?

Thomas didn’t have much choice anyway, did he. He just had to let go either way, and preferably remove his hips from Newt’s back and act like it was no biggie to be hard when in bed with his ex. He slowly untangled his hand from the front of Newt’s shirt and retreated from under the shirt as well with the other hand and managed to roll onto his back without Newt visibly stirring, which was a success. Unless he pretended to be asleep to avoid talking to Thomas about pushing into him like a horny teenager, which also worked.

Not like he hadn’t been doing that in the last month of their relationship anyway, just... ignoring the problem until it went away (a problem named Thomas) and well, ultimately it succeeded. It would work now too, and Thomas refused to poke the wasp nest this early in the morning – judging from the clock at 8:04 – and just went with the flow.

Need coffee, he thought unhappily when the headache set in. And water. Maybe some alone time in a bathroom first.

Newt didn’t stir until Thomas slinked out of the bedroom, which was a complete lie.

***

“Dad, just drop it,” Thomas repeated for fourth time when his dad couldn’t stop haggling him about his childlike alcohol tolerance the moment he appeared in the kitchen, asking for black coffee. He couldn’t tell him he drank Newt’s portions and without that argument nothing would sound plausible anyway, so he just dodged it with an increasing headache. Newt got up about half an hour later and didn’t speak a word to him – Thomas would even say he avoided his eyes several times, which meant he was absolutely awake in the morning to witness all of Thomas’ struggle to even exist around him peacefully. Which he couldn’t for years, really, so this only proved it.

It was fine. Thomas learned how to deal with it, despite taking him two years to come in terms of being hated by a person he loved since he was 17. Well, everything around the breakup took a lot from him, but he dealt with all eventually, right? He could finally look Newt in the eye without having all the incoherent anger and frustration pile up and he could talk to him fine as well unless they breached one of the thousand forbidden topics. Like them. Like family. Like love. Like sleeping. Like breathing, existing and fucking just trying to live.

Anyway. All dealt with, of course. No hard feelings.

(Lots of them.)

“You dealt with the drunkard just fine, right Newt?” his dad chattered towards the blond, patting him on his back and Newt forced a smile and a nod. Thomas saw this particular expression too often to not recognize it and huffed while sitting down at the counter with his own coffee.

He was used to being a bad guy anyway, no matter how much of the blame he genuinely deserved. They both knew he didn’t get drunk because he wanted to get wasted enough to drop unconscious on a spot and Newt would be a hypocrite to badmouth him when he was pouring all his whiskey to Thomas’ glass with thankful expression yesterday. But then again, not even he could tell Thomas’ dad about it, so they just had to have this unspoken oh yes, Thomas is a real piece of work as always.

Which sort of sucked. But Thomas couldn’t care less what his dad thought about his alcohol tolerance, it wasn’t like he threw up everywhere or broke mum’s precious bowls set (again). Not that he expected Newt to defend him anyhow, but he could at least say nooo, he was fine, he just fell asleep or something. Not that it surprised him he didn’t, but…

“He used to drink majority of guys from my work under the table and now look at him,” his dad delivered his fifth Thomas can’t drink for shit jab. He sure loved to milk that. “At least he has you to look after him, huh.”

Thomas stared at Newt’s back with mild annoyance the more the blond refused to elaborate on anything, just smiling at his dad while making himself a cup of coffee, and then Thomas’s eyes suddenly fell on the nape of Newt’s neck with a vicious, red mark near the hairline, and his whole body seized up like he got paralyzed.

A hickey? Since when? From who? What? Wait, was Newt already dating somebody else?

Saying already like three years were short amount of time… Thomas mentally scolded himself and his body raised up on its own volition, like being pulled in by some invisible force towards the blond. He had no clue if it were a twisted need for revenge or vindication or just him being unable to come in terms of not being told or warned, or maybe all of it together, he just couldn’t stop and plastered himself all over Newt’s back, trapping him between his body and the counter, circling his thin waist like a vine (he got thinner for sure).

“Of course I have you, don’t I,” he purred into Newt’s ear, loud enough for his dad to hear perfectly, and felt how Newt’s whole body froze, his hand mid-stir of the coffee. Thomas could see how his Adam’s apple bobbed when he gulped. “Looking after me when I get hammered into unconsciousness.”

“Yeah.” Newt’s voice sounded small, and Thomas wanted to bite down at that red, angry place on his nape like an animal. His dad probably wouldn’t appreciate it, but his ego sure would. He let his hands slide lower, to Newt’s hips, grabbing a handful, and the habitual movement made him restless. He did it zillion times during the time they were together. He did less, he did more, naked, clothed, lying, standing up, in whatever situation, touching Newt was his privilege.

And some fucking horny prick just took it?

Just marked his boyfriend – ex-boyfriend, Thomas, ex-boyfriend for three years, pull yourself together, you’re not 17 anymore – like a property and he didn’t even fucking notice?

Newt’s breath hitched and the spoon he was holding dropped into the coffee, splashing the black liquid around it, dribbling down the drawers under, making the blond curse under his breath.

“Sorry,” he immediately said towards Thomas’ dad who was handing him a cloth to wipe it with, and started squirming. “Thomas, leggo. Can’t reach.”

“Don’t wanna,” Thomas refused, squeezing Newt even tighter. “I’m hangover and miserable and you’re supposed to take care of me.”

Thomas’ dad snorted but took the hint and retreated while calling at his wife the boys are being rowdy again, Anna! And the kitchen fell back into silence, except of their breathing, with Thomas plastered against Newt’s back like he wanted to topple him over (he sort of did).

“Do you enjoy being a bloody prick?” Newt finally broke the spell, pawing at Thomas’ hands to get them off, his voice an angry whisper. “What’s your deal, for fuck’s sake!”

“Hangover,” Thomas huffed, not letting go and to be completely honest, Newt wasn’t really trying as much, just slapping his hands half-heartedly. “Could’ve at least said I didn’t give you any trouble, I covered for you the whole night.”

“You gave me loads of it!” Newt started wiggling, and Thomas had to fight the urge to just bite down, mark any piece of skin available, to make the restlessness go away. “You were heavy as fuck, I had to carry you all the way to your room!”

“Yeah, and?” Thomas grabbed him lower, and Newt pinched his hand in revenge, which finally made him let go with sharp breath.

“Fuck you,” the blond barked at him with fiery eyes. “I don’t know what you are trying to prove but groping me is not on the bloody table, get it?!”

“Mhm,” Thomas rubbed the place Newt pinched him at. “Sure. No fun allowed, got it.”

“Fuck off!”

Thomas hated how Newt turned away and the hickey was so visible it made his insides churn. He used to talk about his problems a lot these past few years, so he could finally let go of whatever was holding him in place, unable to forget, and he thought he reached that point, that he was free.

Looking at Newt marked by another man… no. He was not. Still stuck, still the same.

Still angry and miserable.

Still… there.

***

The fact Newt refused to talk to him completely was an understatement. Thomas blamed his unsteady approach on the alcohol, because what else he could blame it on – his own feelings? He sodealt with those already, there was nothing that would make him see red.

Except of a hickey on his ex-boyfriend’s neck, that would do it. Apparently.

But still – it was the hangover that made him stupid, right. If he’d be completely sober and not aching anywhere and his mind clear, he would just… shrug at it. It was Newt’s business who he slept with or not, or who he let bite his nape like a dog (some young fucking idiot who thought hickeys are still sexy? Stupid shit).

Not Thomas’. Not anymore.

The more he tried to push it away from his mind, the more his mind pushed back, just pointing it out loudly every time he glanced towards the blond sitting on the couch in the living room, bundled in a fluffy blanket, fiddling with his phone.

He was fiddling with his phone a lot actually. Texting somebody?

The guy who left the mark?

Thomas felt the irrational anger seep into his consciousness again and he forced it back down with a frown. He knew asking Newt to help him to get his parents off his back wasn’t exactly a great idea (asking ex to be your bf again for a show just screamed trouble), but at the same time asking anybody else just felt… wrong.

Thomas had to admit he’d be able to go along with this only with Minho, probably. Because Minho was a born actor, he’d be able to breeze though this with ease and Thomas’ parents would like him for sure, because, well, everybody liked Minho, honestly.

Asking Teresa or Brenda was just… desperate. Because other than them it would be Newt and getting back together with Newt… well. Thomas could tell from the moment he saw him getting into his car in front of Newt’s workplace it was going to be tough for both of them.

Not much of a surprise so far climbing Mt. Everest would be easier than keeping his chaotic feelings under control.

“You need some fresh air,” his vision of Newt got obstructed by his mum in a frilly apron she wore unironically and he looked up to her with half-lidded eyes.

“I think I need chicken soup, actually,” he offered in response, because dragging himself through the snow outside now sounded like a death penalty.

“Air first,” she insisted, adamant, and turned towards Newt like an executioner. “Right, Newt? A walk would do him good.”

Newt looked at Thomas and Thomas just knew. He was doomed. Newt was going to betray him like Scar did with Mufasa and he’d enjoy it, he could see the glint in his eyes, just shining there, spelling revenge in big, neon letters.

Please, he mouthed at the blond in desperation and Newt tilted his head to the side and then his mouth curled up.

“Sure, that’s a great idea, Anna,” he signed the death certificate without an ounce of shame and relished in it.

Fuck you, Thomas mouthed again, and Newt sent him a condescending smile. Fuck him especially.

***

“You’re unusually quiet,” his mum casually pointed out like she didn’t just drag him out to cold ass weather while holding a knife (butter one, but that’s what made it scarier), despite his very vocal (or vocal sort of, too loud and his brain wanted out of his skull) protests.

“Hungover,” he reminded her bitterly. The snow under their feet crunched sharply and the noise was tearing his brain to pieces, like walking on a broken glass and he had no idea how much longer he’d be able to act like it wasn’t killing him.

“Well, it was nice of you to cover for him,” Anna shrugged like she didn’t just blew their cover with a killer one liner and Thomas probably shouldn’t have been as surprised. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen him drink.”

“That’s cuz he can’t drink for shit,” he mumbled with a frown. “Did dad notice?”

“No,” she shook her head. “He was too busy boasting about the partnership. It’s been some time since I’ve seen him so happy, you know how he hoards the whiskey otherwise.”

“Yeah, cheapskate,” Thomas snorted, and the noise sliced his brain painfully, like an instant karma.

“Think he was happy about Newt being back too,” she hit the nail on the head a bit too close to home and Thomas hated how his stomach lurched at it. “Well, you know him.”

“Sure is happy for not getting any grandkids,” he just grumbled and Anna patted him on his back.

“We still have Hannah,” she reminded him sweetly. “Maybe one day she’ll feel like having kids and force you to babysit for her two times a week.”

“Me? You’re going to be the grandparents, it’s your obligation to babysit!” The idea of taking care of Hannah’s kids made him scared for life, and they didn’t even exist yet.

“Pretty sure Newt wouldn’t mind,” she chirped happily, and Thomas loathed how right she probably was. Newt never really showed any kind of real interest in having kids or anything, but he never minded babysit for his own sister, and generally all the kids liked him.

Not that thinking about that had any merit anyway, since they split up with a point of no return. Maybe Newt already planned kids with the new person who left the distasteful hickey on his nape, or the person who he kept texting, and the more Thomas thought about it, the more his chest burned.

“Cherish him a bit more, would you,” she poked his arm. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you have some beef between you. Had an argument before coming here?”

Why the fuck is she so perceptive?

“A bit,” he answered quietly. “No biggie.”

“Set things right,” she plainly ordered him like he was ten again and had do her bidding. “I don’t want another sad Christmas.”

There isn’t going to be any Christmas for us, he wanted to tell her, but kept his mouth shut. At this rate, there wasn’t going to be anything for them, at all.

I really need some sleep.

***

Not very often did the morning come so peacefully, like a gentle spring washing over tired soul, leaving it invigorated. Thomas basked in the pleasantness of it, a quiet, warm and relaxed moment where he slowly woke up from a dream into reality still welcoming and soft like he never left the fantasy realm.

He took a deep breath, stretching, slowly coming to realize of contours of another body pressed into him, and under his hands and around his legs and under his chin. The soft blond hair came to view when he opened his eyes, with Newt draped around him needily, and his heart melted.

The first night in their flat. Their home. A place that only belonged to them, these walls and floors, and small kitchen and big windows, for them together. It came true, finally, inevitably, for Thomas to have Newt all for himself, to share his mornings, his evenings, his life with him. Nothing else could make him happier.

“You already up?” came a sleepy rumble from Newt’s chest, the hands holding Thomas’ waist slowly moved up, to his back, pushing them even closer together.

“Just woke up,” Thomas kissed the top of the blond strands, his own hands traveling over Newt’s back, right onto his butt, kneading it.

“Mmmm.” Approving sound doubled his endeavour and then Newt was slowly grinding to him, lazily, his lips stretched in a smile, reaching to pamper Thomas’ neck with small kisses. “This sure is nice, huh.”

“Love it,” Thomas agreed with the sentiment while grabbing Newt’s thigh and hiking it up over his hip. The blond softly moaned at the contact and Thomas pushed more into it, completely awake and needy and allowed. There was nobody that could hear them, scold them or gasp in shock like a puritan at them making out – just them, two lovers in their home, free to make love any time they wanted.

And Thomas wanted too much.

***

He never stopped wanting.

He woke to his room bathing in shadows, with the blanket twisted between his legs, his headache still present, even though in weaker state than in the morning, and his body wasn’t any less sluggish. The walk with his mum didn’t help him much, just added to his misery with freezing cold and nagging reality he couldn’t play this game any longer, which made him feel empty and unhappy.

He didn’t feel this unhappy in a while, it usually only came back when he heard of Newt about a year after the breakup. Every time his ex came back to his life, even when somebody only mentioned him in a passing conversation, Thomas’ chest set off that painful pang in it, like a trigger just waiting to be pressed, and he fell back into hollow kind of depression.

He got rid of it, somehow. He built walls around himself, he locked all of his twisted personality traits and pushiness and hateful behaviour away, he spent years searching for more he could fix, for all that made Newt unhappy with him, what made him leave Thomas after seven years without really talking about it.

He thought he managed to become a better person. He believed he could change the way he acted. He hoped if he ever talked to Newt again, at any point of their lives, he would be at least able to show him he wasn’t that ungrateful, lousy boyfriend anymore, that they could at least be friends. Somehow. Just talk normally. Just… exist in the same room without… Newt making that anguished face, like it hurt him still.

Thomas tried. But failed. Maybe it was just recurring theme of his life – to touch something wonderful, to taste true happiness, just to fuck it all up and lose it.

Maybe he was just obsessive. Suffocating.

Maybe making mistakes were rooted too deep in him to get rid of.

Maybe… it was simply impossible.

***

Newt was playing games with Hannah in the living room when Thomas came back down. Hannah made fun of him for sleeping all day like an old guy and his mum said something about hoping he didn’t catch a cold and gave him a bowl of chicken soup.

The strange, unattached feeling stayed with him since he woke up, and only doubled when he saw Newt’s neck marked by some fucker on display. His stomach churned at the implication there was this unknown guy waiting for Newt to come back home, who kept impatiently sending him texts that made Newt frown and smile in turns, like he just slowly sunk back into the problem they never resolved. Thomas felt disgusted with himself, and angry, and, when it came to it, immensely tired.

“Oh, you have the whole week free?” his mum asked suddenly, breaking Thomas’ bubble of trying to eat the soup like a mental case of lobotomy, and he realized there had been a conversation going in meantime and he didn’t catch any of it. Newt wasn’t playing the game anymore, though Hannah still furiously pressed buttons on her controller, and instead of it sat on the couch, turned towards Thomas’ mum at the table.

“Yeah, thought getting out of the city might do me good,” he answered her with a soft smile and the idea of another week like this sent Thomas into desperate mode. Even though it was him who forced Newt to take whole week off, because… he only had bad ideas, obviously.

“But there’s bit of a rush now, right?” he entered the conversation impulsively and Newt glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. “At work. Christmas and all that being close.”

“Yeah, it’s… a bit hectic,” the blond admitted, making Thomas’ mum go aww. “There’s lots of people taking vacations they didn’t spend yet, so we usually work crunch time.”

“Yeah, kind of same,” Thomas added. It wasn’t really a lie. But not the truth either. “And I know I said a week, but I’ve got some texts from work already, thought of going back tomorrow instead.”

Newt stared at him with an evident confusion, but Thomas knew at this rate they were going to crash and burn again if they stayed, and he didn’t want that. He couldn’t even trust himself to keep it civil when his blood boiled like in a bull taunted with red flag.

Except the red flag was an unknown nobody on the other side of the line of Newt’s phone.

And bed.

“Uh,” came from the blond. “No, wait. What? You…”

“We can visit again during Christmas,” Thomas offered a big fat lie, he almost bit his tongue at it. Christmas were a taboo, he knew mentioning it were already risky, but it gave him an out with his mum, so that worked at least. “When it’s calmer.”

“When is what calmer?” Newt still stared, Thomas said almost disbelieving, and he just prayed for him to play along and not act like he knew nothing about it.

“Work,” he answered stiffly. Too stiffly, he realized, since Newt’s eyes narrowed.

“Uh oh,” he heard Hannah interject, which meant he already failed in the mission to make this believable. Fuck.

“I need a smoke,” the blond announced instead of reacting and stood up sharply. Then shot Thomas a badly masked glare. “Keep me company?”

He wanted to say no but couldn’t when his whole family watched them like during tennis match. So he just nodded and followed Newt outside of the house while feeling like slapping himself.

***

“Care to explain or am I supposed to guess.”

The cigarette was lit, its fiery tip shone bright in the darkness of the porch once the automatic light shut itself because they weren’t moving like they rooted in the wooden floor. Newt was wearing his coat and Thomas only stood there in the long-sleeved shirt, which in retrospect was probably a mistake.

“I did explain,” Thomas said. “Just thought about work-,”

“No, you didn’t,” Newt stopped him immediately while crossing one of his arms on his chest while other held the cigarette like a weapon. “You said a week, so I took a week off. I’m not bloody leaving now. It’s my vacation.”

“I also said three days would probably be enough,” Thomas asserted. “And they are. I thought you’d appreciate it.”

“Why?” the blond demanded. “It’s not like I suffer here. I like this place. What’s your problem?”

That kind of question had no easy answer and Thomas held Newt’s eyes only for few seconds, before looking away.

“Am I the problem?” came another question, even sharper. “You just can’t stand me anymore, so you want to leave?”

“You know that’s bullshit,” Thomas scoffed. “Since when did I ever-,”

“No, I don’t know!” Newt interrupted him with raised voice and Thomas flinched. “I don’t bloody know anything about you anymore! You brought me here and expected what? War? Did you want us to fail?”

“Why would I want us to fail?” Thomas’ eyes widened in a shock. “What kind of fucked up logic would that be?!”

“I don’t know!” Newt barked. The cigarette he was holding was slowly fading away, the ash falling everywhere how he moved his hand. “But something’s up since this morning, so obviously you’re lying about work and I want to know why!”

Well, finding out his ex-boyfriend had a lover, or a sex friend or whatever the other person was definitely served as a wake-up call. Thomas couldn’t overlook it – he thought he’d be fine with anything, it had been years, but one fucking hickey and some fleeting texts and he just had the rising urge to tear the walls he built down and get angry and make Newt inevitably miserable, which he despised.

He fucking loathed it. And himself. And everything around him.

“Why did you even agree to come here?” he couldn’t help but demand. “Why did you even bother playing this stupid game when you have somebody home? You trying to make him jealous or it’s just your thing?”

Accusing – stupid Thomas, fucking idiot, just talk normally, what’s wrong with you – as always.

“What?” Newt’s eyes shot up, wide in honest surprise. His cheeks were red from the cold, or maybe embarrassment, Thomas didn’t know. “What are you talking about?”

“About that hickey on your neck?” Thomas pointed towards the incriminated spot and Newt’s whole body went rigid.

“A hickey…?” Newt’s free hand was touching the place now, his voice shocked. “You… ugh.”

“Look, it’s not my business, clearly,” Thomas rubbed his eyes tiredly, desperately trying to make an excuse for his own consciousness why he couldn’t look at Newt. “But obviously it’s causing you trouble with him, so. As I said. Three days are fine, we can leave now. Go back home. Forget about this.”

And forget about me trying to corner you, and me getting hard in the bed with you this morning, and me sounding jealous and lame, and me… just for being me.

“Are you fucking with me?” Newt’s voice sounded disbelieving. “Are you bloody serious right now? A hickey from some random guy appeared over night here? That’s what you’re saying?”

Overnight…?

“Overnight?” he asked a little dumbly, which forced him to look Newt in the eyes, where he saw hell unleashed. It made his throat squeeze almost hard enough to suffocate him.

“You think I just popped back home for a quickie, then back to your bed in the morning like a bloody Cinderella?” the blond seethed, the cigarette in his hand morphing into a protentional weapon of choice. “Where did that even came for, for fuck’s sake? You’d been seeing me for two days, never noticed anything, and then suddenly your Esmeralda syndrome got cured or what?”

“But-,”

“You bloody drunk fucker,” Newt took a step towards him and Thomas found himself hitting the entrance door with his back, when he automatically tried to back out. “Should have known your bird brain won’t remember anything.”

The realization hit Thomas like tons of bricks right in his face, able to cause heavy concussion if it were real.

“I did this?!”

“No, the bloody sucker behind you, who the fuck do you think?!” Newt’s voice was harsh, but Thomas could only hear the bare fact he made a hickey of size of Texas on his ex-boyfriend’s nape while spending the next day being jealous… of himself.

“What the fuck,” he breathed out with an ugly relief flooding his veins, which was all sorts of wrong. Being relieved over attacking his ex at night definitely did not count as a good point in anybody’s book. “What the fuck.”

“Calmer now?” Newt sighed in exasperation and Thomas couldn’t say he was. It just opened door to another set of bad he had to deal with.

“I attacked you when drunk?” he asked quietly, and Newt blinked in surprise.

“Attacked?” he repeated and then barked out a laugh. “No, you really didn’t. You were drunk out of your mind, for fuck’s sake.”

“I see.”

“Didn’t think it left anything,” the blond sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as if in memory, which was kind of hot – no Thomas, it was not hot, but embarrassing, shut up -. “I mean you just munched on me a little, then fell back asleep. No harm done.”

“You made a fuss about us sleeping in one bed but it’s no biggie when I leave a hickey?” Thomas couldn’t help but laugh a little and Newt’s face showed signs of hesitation.

“Look…” he tried after a moment, the cigarette in his hand nearly gone. “I… don’t know, you were just sleeping while holding me, it doesn’t mean anything-,”

“And that’s fine with you?” It was Thomas’ turn to interrupt him, and Newt looked a little lost for a moment.

“I suppose that’s fine with me, yeah,” he admitted slowly.

Thomas looked at his shoes, taking in a deep breath. He couldn’t deny the knot forming in his belly over the day already started easing off, for purely selfish reasons he had, but at the same time his head became even a bigger mess than before.

“So what does it mean?” he asked after a while. “I’m trying to do the right thing here, I thought… you’d rather leave than stay with me longer, after today, but…”

“I want to stay,” Newt answered immediately. “Unless you really don’t want me here. Then no, of course. I had the same problem the first day, feeling all kinds of weird and jumpy. I guess I just sort of dealt with it. Stepped out of my comfort zone and all that.”

“Sorry you had to.”

It wasn’t like Thomas wanted Newt to change anyhow by doing this favour for him. But he’d also be a hypocrite if he didn’t admit he wished Newt to feel good here. With him. Selfishly, hopelessly. Like before, like they were okay. Like they still… liked each other. At least a little.

He knew that kind of hope was self-destructive and harmful, but he didn’t stop loving this man three years ago, after going through an immensely rough patch, so he wouldn’t stop loving him now for no reason either.

“No need to be sorry,” Newt interrupted his thoughts with much softer tone than Thomas expected. “I mean even despite it’s you, you didn’t really do anything bad yet.”

“Wow,” Thomas snorted. “Way to ruin the mood, boyfriend.”

“I try,” Newt grinned, and it seemed like the tense mood dissipated and they both relaxed enough to breathe easier. Thomas possibly wouldn’t even notice he had been so strung up until now, if the huge boulder of irrational fear of fucking up didn’t fall off his shoulders with a bang.

“And just for the record,” Newt added while finally inhaling the last puff from the already burned-out cigarette before stubbing it out in the ashtray. “I noticed you digging into me in the morning.”

“Of course you did…” Thomas banged the back of his head against door in utter shame. “Because universe hates me, and you had to fucking wake up.”

“Yeah, well,” Newt let out a small shrug. “I got hard at night, if it makes you feel any better. Let’s call it even.”

“What.”

“Had a real nice dream,” the blond casually announced like he was ordering pie with no filling and Thomas was a stupefied cashier at Costa Cafe. “Woke up with you being handsy with me. Tried to scramble away, cue for you to make the hickey and fall back asleep.”

“Uh.”

“1:1, right?” The sly smile Newt’s mouth produced did things to Thomas’ underbelly and before he even caught himself, he automatically reached out and grabbed Newt’s side.

Fuck.

“Pretty lousy score,” he just said – bad Thomas, stop making a pass at your ex -, “That’s no match whatsoever.”

Newt glanced at his hand resting on his waist and then back to Thomas with a thoughtful hum.

“I’m not that good at sports,” he just said, looking back into Thomas’ eyes. “But you might be onto something.”

Thomas took a deep breath and risked the second hand grabbing other side of Newt’s waist, pulling him closer. The layers of clothing made him dissatisfied, no matter how cold it was and how his skin already felt like ice, he just wanted to get under the coat and the sweater and the shirt and make Newt react somehow. The blond just silently watched him, let him do whatever he wanted, and somehow it felt like a test and Thomas was scared of failing it.

“That’s it?” Newt broke the tense silence around them when Thomas just stood there, holding him.

“Thinking,” the brunet mumbled with a frown.

“About?”

“How to touch you without it being classified as groping,” he moved his hands a little lower as an experiment, getting no reaction. “Since it’s off the table.”

“Pfff.”

He hesitated, then gingerly let go of one side and reached for the zipper lodged under Newt’s chin, keeping the coat closed like a fortress. His hand barely cooperated with how frozen it was, but Newt still didn’t stop him and that encouraged him unfairly.

“Newt.”

“Yeah?” the blond’s voice was quiet and close to his face.

“What’s with all the texting?” He kept holding the zippier between his fingers like he couldn’t decide, and Newt made a soft huh? noise in the back of his throat.

“You were on your phone the whole day,” Thomas lowered his voice to almost a whisper. “Is there somebody…?”

A sigh. Thomas let go of the zipper.

“That’s Alby,” came a reply and if Thomas wasn’t already propped against the door, he’d take a step back. There was nowhere to run now, so he just let go of the blond completely, nodding.

“He’s my partner,” another string of words Thomas comprehended but wished he didn’t. “A bit demanding one.”

“Sounds like it,” he just commented, staring at his feet until Newt’s shoes came into view as well when he stepped closer.

Seriously testing me. That’s-

“A bit cruel,” he breathed out with a puff of white smoke and Newt pushed further and pressed his mouth against Thomas’. His cold lips lingered for a moment before parting, their breaths mingling, and Thomas’ heart fought really hard to get out of his chest and run away. The proximity was non-existent, Newt stood so close their chests were touching, and his eyes were so dark, and pupils blown wide Thomas got easily lost in them.

He always did. Nothing had changed.

“You look cold,” Newt whispered to his lips, hovering so close their mouths gently touched when they took a breath.

“Freezing,” Thomas answered in daze, holding back only by a miracle. He wanted to reach out and pull the blond man flush against him, to grind into him, to kiss him so deep his toes would curl, and he’d buck up, he just wanted so much it made him suffer.

“Alby’s my colleague,” Newt dropped quietly. “Funnily… you weren’t wrong about work being in a rush now. He’s struggling a little. Wanted to know my opinion.”

A colleague. And nothing else?

“Nothing else,” Newt answered like he could read his mind and then sagged against Thomas’ body like the energy just left him, resting his head on Thomas’ shoulder.

“I thought I can handle being this close to you,” he heard him mumbling into his shirt. “But the more I am, the less I can fight it.”

“I thought I can handle you dating somebody else,” Thomas added to it while letting his head fall back against the door with a dull thud. “But obviously not. It’s scary. I don’t want to fuck it up again.”

“Yeah,” Newt agreed with him. “Me neither.”

He wasn’t sure if this had been some sort of consensus they reached, or just a fling that happened because they were both lonely, but Thomas didn’t want to let go – even though he should have, logically, to protect them both. The pain they caused to each other three years ago was still there and festering under their skins, but the more Newt was pressed into him, breathing softly, the more Thomas noticed his reason slowly creeped away, like a thief in the night disappearing with loot.

But he wanted. For fuck’s sake how he wanted to just hold him close and promise him love and eternal happiness, and the scary part was he couldn’t promise shit. His love was real, but not unconditional, happiness was fleeting and simply relying on both of them and the rest of the world deciding whatever to fuck them up or not.

But…

“I give up,” he mumbled, weary to the bone. At Newt’s soft hm? he just sighed. “It’s fucking cold.”

The blond barked out a laugh, but nodded and let go of him, immediately taking all the warmth away.

“Then shall we assure them we’re not breaking up again?” he nodded towards the door and without waiting for Thomas’ reply he already reached for the handle. “Or not leaving tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” the brunet conceded. “Hannah’s going to be milking this for the rest of the week…”

“Serves you right,” Newt laughed quietly while opening the door and Thomas kept the answer to himself.

We’re not breaking up again rang in his head like a bell, deafening his reason even further. Newt didn’t protest when he reached for his hand on their way inside, and he wondered if his heart was ready for another trial.

He ignored the uncertainty and took a leap of faith.

#newtmas #tmr #the last resort series #the maze runner #izzymultifan #edit 17. 5. 2021

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howaboutalittlehelpneos · 4 years

Text

YGO! Questionnaire

Tagged by @cipher-wise

Pleasantly surprised to be in one of these, so let’s go

Favorite series: *Gestures to icon* Is it any surprise I’ll be picking GX? I love GX with all my heart and soul. The story’s pacing is very good and never feels like it’s dragging its feet to get to where it’s going, most duels are over in less than a full episode with the longest one being three, there are so many good characters to get invested in, and this boy right here is your protagonist.

Look at him blow kisses to the audience after beating Crowler, how could anyone not love Jaden Yuki? I care him so much. Even the filler episodes in GX are pretty fun to watch most of the time, and it’s the good kind of filler that may not advance the plot much or at all, but it’ll give you plenty of good memories to take with you. Who could possibly forget the eggwich thief? Not to mention the soundtrack fucking slaps.

Favorite protagonist: I mean...

Yeah it’s Jaden. GX hooked me immediately when I started watching it because of how much I loved this boy. He’s that perfect mix of cocky and sweet when it comes to dueling because he’s confident in his own abilities, but he never stops having fun and being amazed at what his opponent can do, he cares about all of his friends and does his best to help them with their problems, he’s kind to strangers, and he has exactly half a brain cell.

I feel the gif speaks for itself, but Jaden’s dialogue when he turns around here is “I’m such a sucker for things like this! I’ll help you, ma’am!” Dorothy says “No, you’ll be late... Don’t you have a test today?” And Jaden replies with “Who cares if I’m late? I couldn’t leave a lady in trouble!” Jaden Yuki is my absolute favorite protagonist.

Favorite rival: Oh man is that a tough one. Am I allowed to pick two? It’s a hard call to make between this dumb edgy bitch-

And this dumb gay bitch

Honestly they’re tied for favorite rival in my book. I absolutely loved Chazz when I watched GX, and I thought his arc about breaking through his inferiority/superiority complex and learning to accept loss as a part of life without letting it define him was wonderfully written, and seeing him grow as a person throughout the show just made me feel happy for him. Shark... I really thought I wasn’t going to end up liking Shark at first, but god he just gets so much better as Zexal goes on, starting out as this mean spirited middle school bully in episode one, and slowly ending up as Yuma’s boyfriend closest friend. It’s incredible to look back at how Shark acts when he’s first introduced and compare it to... season 3, I think it was, where just hearing the words “Yuma’s in danger” is enough to send him running to his rival’s side. Chazz and Shark. They are my favorites.

Favorite BFF: Him

Crow Hogan is an absolute treasure and he was my favorite part about watching 5Ds. This little bird man first gets introduced by stealing cards for his kids and clowning on Sector Security, and he’s a source of so much good throughout the show. Excellent best friend (technically brother but I’m counting him), wonderful father, 10/10 person all around. Plus the fact that the only thing stopping him from berating his bitchass brother even more was Yusei having to literally pick him up and pull him away is definitely extra points in my book. What a powerful little bird. His only weakness is people that are taller than him, which is unfortunately most people.

Favorite GFF:

Yuzu. Have I actually watched Arc V yet? No, but I’m still picking Yuzu for my number one here. Tea and Tori are just awful characters, I’m neutral towards Alexis, and Akiza... Did have potential to be something interesting on her own, despite how uncomfortable she made me in seasons 1-2 of 5Ds, but her relevance is alllll downhill from there. I’ve seen one clip of Yuzu yelling at a man eating pie and calling him a 100th rate duelist, and that was all I needed to know she would be my favorite. (Clip here)

Favorite villain: Oh boy

The fuckin carrot is my favorite villain, and I say this as someone who fully believes he didn’t deserve to be in the last episode. Vector did some fucked up shit in his day, and he only continued to do fucked up shit in Yuma’s day, but I have to say he was pretty effective when it came down to his goals. He got things done and went right for what he wanted by taking direct action to seize Don Thousand’s power, and he manipulated Yuma perfectly by preying on his kind nature and love for Astral to use him to further his goals.

...Plus I mean just look at his subbed dialogue God he’s such a slut. Evil slutty alien.

Tl;dr Vector was a horrible horrible person, but he was a good villain, and he was so entertaining whenever he was on screen that it was impossible not to like him. Still kinda wish he got what he deserved though, and what he deserved definitely wasn’t another chance.

Speaking of Don Thousand though, can we talk about how unfairly pretty he is? If I had to pick a runner up villain in terms of looks alone, it would definitely be him.

God it was not fair how pretty the big bad of Zexal was. He’s fucking gorgeous, and in my opinion, the best looking villain at the very least.

Favorite card: *Sweats in Duel Links* Favorite? There’s so many cards out there to pick from, but since I’ve already broken the rules with my two favorite rivals, I’ll be picking two of each card type: Spells, traps, and monsters. One for the aesthetic, and one for how often I make use of it.

First up, the Aesthetics group

What can I say, Vampiric Koala is such a cutie, Dwimmered Path has some really pretty card art, and Rainbow Life is an eternal flex on any heteros I may encounter while playing Duel Links. Nothing better than a gay trap card.

Now for usability

Dragon Knight of Creation is suuuper helpful in any dragon themed deck and has a permanent slot in my decks for Mokuba and Kaiba, PoG is always a fun way to boost up weak monsters to ridiculous heights, and Dark Bribe just lets you block your opponent like “Okay I know you wanna hurt me but I will let you draw another card if you do not do that thing”, and they can’t refuse you.

Favorite episode: I’ll be copying cipher’s format here and picking one for each series, but this will still only total out to five for me since I’ve yet to watch past Zexal ^^; Soon I’ll get to Arc V! One day...

Season 0: Episode 16: Turnabout by a Hair's Breadth - The White-Robed Crisis I’m a sucker for my son Joey, and this was a good Joey episode about him and his sister, plus it was nice seeing that doctor get what he deserved :) Duel Monsters: Season 5, episode 12-14: The Deciding Match for Duel King - Yugi vs. Leon/Golden Castle of Stromberg/KC Grand Prix Ends Probably a weird batch of episodes to pick, I know, but a lot of DM was kinda forgettable to me, and these are some of the few episodes I do recall. I just... really felt for Leon’s situation, and I wanted good things for that boy. I care him. GX: Season 3, episode 34: Dark Fusion! Inferno Wing!! Jim. Jim Jim Jimmmmm. This was the episode that finally made me understand why saviorshipping was a thing because it hits you with all these memories Jim has of Jaden and shows how they bonded before all this Dark World shit happened, and the whole thing was very emotional. 5Ds: Season 4, episode 2-3: Recollections, Entrusted with a Friend's Dying Wish God Crow, my precious bird son. I really liked the backstory they gave him, despite how much it hurt. It was probably the best character development he got in the whole of 5Ds, and let you see a side to him you probably wouldn’t expect. I loved watching him get his justice. Zexal II: Season 2, episode 5-6: Alito the Silent Fighter - Reunion of the Passionate Duelists!/ Be Revived! The Duelist Soul That Transcends Life!! I picked these episodes for Nistro and Nistro alone. He was one of my absolute favorites in Zexal, and seeing how well he and Dextra were doing was good for the soul. Just look at this good lion man right here.

Look at him!!!

Favorite decks to use: Elemental Heroes, Aromages, Red Eyes, Six Samurai, and Crystal Beasts.

Fusion, Ritual, Synchro, Xyz, Pendulum, or Link: I’m a simple girl, I love fusion/tributes for how easy they are, but synchro can be pretty fun, too

Years in fandom: ??? Even I don’t know the answer to this one, friends. I used to be in the fandom when I was in middle school, wrote/read a few fanfics here and there, but then I fell out of it for... Well I’m 22 now and only got back into things 6 months ago? I started rewatching the abridged series of Duel Monsters in March, and from there I just wanted to consume actual Yugioh content and never went back.

Who am I tagging: @finding-fallen-petals @dizziedaikonn @chazzaroo Go wild y’all

#ygo tag meme #ygo dm #ygo gx #ygo 5ds #ygo zexal #jaden yuki #judai yuki #chazz princeton #jun manjoume #shark kastle #ryoga kamishiro #crow hogan #yuzu hiiragi #ygo zexal vector #ygo zexal nistro #gauche #probably the longest post ive ever made on this blog jesus christ

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diazevan · 5 years

Text

ii. explosion

Morgan is a runner.

Peter learned that on the day they met. Well, he was warned. She’s fast on her feet and is gone in the blink of an eye. Whenever he came over to play, she’d wear him out, with all her constant moving, from corner to corner, room to room. She was antsy, unable to stay in one place too long, and there was no way to distract her with a game, or a movie. She’d be up on her feet within a minute, looking for something else to do. Peter was built to chase after Morgan, according to Tony and Pepper, he was born to run after her. He was the only one who could catch up with her, and understand what she wanted to do next. He didn’t care if she wanted to play one-thousand different games in a single afternoon, he was more than happy to follow her anywhere, he had almost five years to catch up on, after all. However, going out for the day? That was a whole new task. Tony had, spontaneously, decided to take Morgan and Peter out for breakfast, while Pepper and May spent some quality ‘Mum’ time together, whatever that meant. Peter, being the paranoid older brother he was destined to be, started drawing up plans and solutions for every possible situation Morgan could run into. “Five minutes, twenty-two seconds….” Tony laughed, as they watched Morgan run off, towards a Florist, “That’s gotta be a new record.” Peter chuckled under his breath, he nudged Tony’s shoulder as he skipped forward, “You get our Pretzels....” He sped ahead, “I’ll get her.” “On it!” Tony called after him, with no argument. Tony was playing this off with his usual nonchalant bravado, but Peter knew that inside it killed him to see his daughter run, and know he’s not fast enough to catch up with her, not like before. Tony was adapting to life with a prosthetic arm, and still recovering from the fallout of using the stones. Peter had seen what Spider-Man was doing to him. Tony was reluctantly off-duty - he had to wait another four months before he could even think of stepping foot in an Iron Man suit again. If Peter got hurt on patrol, Tony had to rely on other people to help. Of course, they were the people Tony trusted the most; Happy, Rhodey, and Pepper. It didn’t matter who helped though, it tore Tony apart - not being able to help his kids. “Petey, look at these ones!” Morgan pointed up at a red and blue arrangement of flowers, “They’re Spider-Man flowers.” Peter’s eyebrows shot up, he pressed a finger to his lips, he shook his head as he knelt down in front of her. He loved that Morgan knew, it made life easier for them, but sometimes, it was hard to ask a four-year-old to keep a secret, especially one that big. His shoulders deflated, when he noticed that she was right because next to the flowers, was a small plaque that read, 'The Spider-Man Bouquet.’ Peter caught Morgan’s frailing hand as he stood back up to study the bouquet, his wasn’t the only one. There were arrangements for every Avenger. “Do you like them?” Morgan asked as she swung back and forth, using his arm as a monkey bar. Peter hummed as he looked down at her, “I love them...maybe, we…” His words died in his throat as a sharp pain shot up his spine and the hairs on the back of his arms stood on end; a warning he was all-too-familiar with. His Spidey Sense - commonly referred to as his Peter Tingle, thanks to May - was not reliable, but Peter knew that something was about to happen. Something big. He hadn’t felt dread like this, not since the final battle, when Tony snapped his fingers and almost lost his life, saving the universe. Tony. Logically, in Peter’s confusion, that’s where his mind went first. He clutched onto Morgan’s hand as tightly as he could, not wanting to lose sight of her. He snapped his head back, searching for Tony, he was on the other side of the street, talking to the Pretzel stand worker, wearing his signature ear-to-ear grin. He was safe. Reality hit Peter when he didn’t have long left to react to the coming danger. Tony was safe. They were not. Peter’s first priority was Morgan. Now, and forever.

He didn’t have his web-shooters, and they had no time left to run. So, he hoisted her up into his arms. Morgan didn’t need an explanation as she tightened her arms around his back, it was almost second nature for her to be in her brother’s arms. She was understandably protective of Peter because, for the first four years of her life, he was a bedtime story. When they first met, she hated letting go; she was afraid that they would lose him again. Peter tangled his fingers in her hair, to cradle her head; he threw himself onto the ground and he pulled her as close as he possibly could, acting as her shield. Peter was blinded by an explosion, and he felt the ground underneath him slip away. He locked his arms around Morgan as they were thrown around. He didn’t remember passing out, but he woke to the sound of Morgan, sobbing. “Petey! Petey, wake up…” He smacked his lips together as he tried to answer her, but his throat seized, he turned his head to his side as his reflexes kicked in, and began to dry heave, when his stomach failed to bring anything up, he erupted in a series of violent coughs; he bit down on his lip to conceal his hurt. Morgan was already scared, he didn’t need to add to that. “Stop it, Petey…” Morgan hiccuped, “Stop it!” Peter’s coughs came to an end. He wanted to open his eyes and reassure her that everything was going to be alright, but he could feel the darkness, wrapping its cold fingers around his ankles, trying to drag him back down. His body was on fire. Something metal and heavy was pressing down on his leg. The entire right side of his body was numb; he couldn’t even move that arm, he didn’t know if it was because of how he landed or if it was an injury sustained during the blast. This wasn’t like when the Vulture trapped him. This time, he’d taken every possible precaution to protect Morgan, so he took the full force of the explosion. He wouldn’t take it back, he saved his sister, and that was the most important thing. All he regretted was the fact that he couldn’t help her get out. He weakly brushed his left hand against the ground, and Morgan grabbed hold of it, as she cried out his name. “It’s…It’s ok..ay.” “Petey…?” Peter deflated, as he rolled his head to the side. He was overwhelmed by a repetitive buzzing in his ears, every noise sounded like it was thousands of miles away. It felt like he was about to drown, but he was able to stay afloat because Morgan was holding his hand. “Morgan!” Tony? That sounded like Tony. “Daddy? Daddy!” “Hey, sweetheart... I’m over here.” “Daddy! Petey is sleeping!” No, Peter thought, I’m not sleeping...just...resting…He tried to move, but he was paralysed; he could only tighten his hand around Morgan’s. “Okay, okay, honey…” Tony breathed, “Can you be really grown up for me?” “Hm-hm.” “Can you see if Petey’s breathing? Is his chest going up and down?” I’m okay...just...just... “Yeah, it is!” “That’s good. I’m gonna get you both out, okay?” “Okay…” “Morguna...baby, I need you to crawl to me…” “No.” “Honey, you can do it, I know you can.” “I can’t leave Petey!” She pulled on Peter’s hand. “I know it’s scary…” “No!” Peter fought against the looming darkness to open his eyes, he couldn’t let Morgan put her life on the line, and he knew that she’d listen to him, “Hey…” Morgan’s lower lip trembled as she looked at him, tears rolling down her cheeks as she yanked on his arm, trying to get him to move, “Go…” She shook her head, “....Go.” “Morguna, I’m gonna get your brother out, I promise…” Tony coaxed, “Right, kid?” Peter couldn’t see Tony from where he was, but he could imagine the fear etched across his face, “Yeah...” Morgan looked back at Tony, “You promise, three-thousand?” “….Yes…Yes, I do!” “Okay....” Morgan let her hand fall out of his, and she turned as she crawled over towards Tony. Morgan was Peter’s anchor, and she let go. So, he let himself sink to the ocean floor. Morgan was safe, and that’s all that mattered.

________________________

Peter knew where he was. He didn’t even need to open his eyes. The distance sound of Tony’s Alpaca enjoying his afternoon snack was the confirmation he needed. He was in his bed, at the Stark lakehouse.

Peter felt fingers brush against his hand, “Kid, you with me?”

“Hey…” He locked his fingers around Tony’s hand.

“Hey.”

The clogs turned slowly, and as soon as Peter caught up with what had happened, he bolted upright, screaming out Morgan’s name in a blind panic. The head rush made him regret sitting up so hastily but he needed to know where she was.

“Hey, hey...” Tony caught Peter’s arms and held them, “Look at me...” Tony knelt down on the mattress, “Morgan’s downstairs, she’s got a few scratches and bruises, but she’s going to be fine…”

Peter relaxed, and leaned his forehead against Tony’s shoulder, “...Yeah?”

Tony lay his chin on Peter’s head, “Yeah, I promise, bud. She’s okay.”

“That’s…Good.”

Tony leaned back, and cupped Peter’s cheek with his hand, “You... scared us, bud.” His throat cracked, as he pushed his hand back through Peter’s hair, “If you didn’t have your powers…”

Peter swallowed the lump in his throat, “But...I do.” He’d passed out after Morgan got out. Meaning, he’d been unconscious when Tony got to him, he couldn’t imagine how fucking terrifying that must have been. Tony had only just got Peter back, so seeing him like that, couldn’t have been easy.

“Yeah.” Tony bent down, pressing a kiss against Peter’s temple, “Yeah, you do.” He gently nudged Peter’s chin up, and his mouth twitched into a smile, “You ready to be lovingly tackled by your sister?”

“Always.”

You can follow this month of scheduled Iron Dad Angst on AO3!

#liberty's writing #whumptober2019 #no.2 #explosion #irondad & spideyson #tony stark #morgan stark #peter parker #irondad fanfiction #iron dad fanfiction #tony lives au #endgame au #iron dad #irondad #tw swearing #iron siblings #spidey son #peter & morgan

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boogiewrites · 4 years

Text

Never Break the Chain Pt. 4

Part 4 of 5

Characters: Javier Peña x OFC

Summary: Esme is left with the harsh reality of her feelings with Javi and what loving him means. Lead by her heart and her gut she leaps into action to try to secure her hopes of having a future with him. But in their line of work, things can take a turn for the worse in a second.

Warnings/Tags: Injury. Canon Typical Violence. Life or Death.

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.) Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT!

To hold herself together in times of distress Esme had to fall apart from time to time when she was alone. Tonight was going to be one of those times. She secluded away in her small hideaway in the mountains. She had always enjoyed her own company, knowing the difference between being alone and being lonely, but the latter was heavy on her back as she sat red-eyed on the bed, looking out the plantation shuttered double doors in her bedroom.

Her mind couldn’t decide if talking to Javi had been a mistake or not. She felt every buried emotion in a rush that left her a sloppy, blotchy mess. There was no one around for kilometers to hear her, so she let it all out. The rosary she’d mentioned to Javi was occupying her hands as she bounced her legs, full of anxious energy.

Before, the consequences of knowing Javi were something she could deflect, although the coincidence of knowing a cop from over four thousand km away from her childhood would be a hard sell, she hadn’t worried drastically about it. The more intricate reality of how she felt about him was what she was wrestling with. The fact that she had seen him, touched him, talked to him were no longer what ifs’ or fantasies but hard facts. The fact she was struggling with most intensely was that she was still very much in love with him. Before he was a memory, a myth, a story to be told over drinks. He was now the man in the next town over, sharing her same sentiment in both love and life. They weren’t kids anymore, he’d been right about that. Which meant seeing their lives for what they were in the harsh light of day and not through rose-colored glasses. Where they had wanted to be was no longer a thing to strive for, it’d become a prison of their own making.

She didn’t know if it was her body getting worn or the years of repressed emotions that made her feel so damned exhausted. The thought of going back into the den of the same men that wanted her one love dead suddenly wasn’t as easy to sit with. There were real consequences now. For both of them.

Perhaps it was paranoia, but it’s kept her alive this long. She had her bug-out bag by the bed, rosary wrapped around her wrist, and slept with her shoes on. She rubbed the wooden beads like a worry stone; even though she hadn’t been sure what she believed in for many years. Especially not after the things she’d seen, or the things she’d done. There was a strange comfort knowing Javi had a similar sort of experience. Even if she wouldn’t have wished it on anyone. Maybe he would understand. Maybe he was just as tired as she was. Maybe… she had some hope for a future. She had to talk to him again. This time with a purpose, to ask him to leave with her instead of abandoning him again.

———

As she had following every breakdown, she’d dusted herself off and got back to it the next morning.

In a dress and heels that said, ‘Don't fucking question me.’ She walked into the stone-columned entryway in a powerful man's home. It was a nice morning, not a trace of her collapse the night before remained on her face. She sat poised, with understated jewels glinting in the sun. Yet, her favorite accessories were hidden in places the sun wouldn’t hit, those were her weapons.

She had been establishing herself to get to this client, networking, and performing feats to gain trust in a trust-less circle. Playing it cool, she kept her face set into a lovely neutral but curious. It was a grand promise of cash. She found herself in the right spot for the rule as old as time; supply and demand. If she could seize the articles that had been taken from their owners, she would be compensated with a bigger payday than she’d ever encountered. The sentimentality of the pieces, the danger in the retraction, and the previous failures of those that had come before her secured the pay to be something someone like her could not resist.

“They were in my family... generations ago… before their family decided to fuck over mine we were joined by marriage, then by blood. We have not been able to get them through legal or... other means. But you, Estelle, I believe you have a chance to be successful.”

It was flattering but she was already decided by her motives. Enough money to run. And far. Not to mention a comfortable life on the other side when she sold what she’d accumulated over the years and combined with her savings. She’d played it smart the last few years and pulled the plug on the extravagant lifestyle that had beckoned her to this sort of work in the first place. She saw it as a sign, a dazzling neon one directing her to do it. So with a smile and a handshake, she did.

These people she operated with were not the cartel, but that did not make them just as dangerous. They had their hands in every sort of money stream and political influence. They couldn’t go into this location she was to infiltrate guns blazing, they had to have more finesse and mystery. Which is why they hired out. No connections made for less chance of blowback and made it easier to deny the job was them. And by the time they had to worry about such things, she’d be long gone.

She was being personable, enjoying a cocktail by a sapphire-blue pool and eavesdropping on the conversations around her. While ignoring the guy trying to impress her that had perched next to her she was tuned in to the young man that had a two-way radio by the stone fence that enclosed the pool.

They spoke English from time to time which she found unusual. But if they were looking to not be understood it wasn’t the worst approach. The staff here wouldn’t be able to understand them. Most of the men presumably wouldn’t recognize it either. Esme however spoke fluent English. She was raised by a Mexican mother who pushed her to speak English to fit in in Texas. At home, she was one person, a fluent tongue, and outside she was the brown girl that was berated with “HABLA ENGLAISH?” By every white woman she ran into. It had saved her more than once; when she was younger and especially now.

“The pigs are out today.” A statement she knew wasn’t about the animal was caught.

“Pigs are out every day.”

“They think they’re up to something.”

Esme knew that the people that were being referred to were the drug runners. These mining types didn’t pay much mind to cops, they paid them off when they needed and they were mostly left alone. When you have the foresight to build a public image with legal means of income, it’s easier to hide the sketchy shit.

“The gringo is asking questions.”

One of the white boys must have been trying to gather intel in the force. It could be Javier's partner but she couldn’t know for sure.

“Boss? Do we need to let the boys in town know? Is there going to be anything we don’t want them getting mixed up in?”

He thinks for a moment, Esme seeing him out of the corner of her eye, a squint down the mountain and onto the sprawling city below. “Our boys are in the east today, yes?” a pause and a nod of acknowledgment. “Tell them to come home.”

With that order, her jaw tightens. Esme knew something was going to happen. These men might not be narco’s but they certainly knew them, and ordinarily, they would tip the other off to trouble. Business going as usual was best for all involved. Normally she’d head back to her hideaway, let it all play out. But she knew if there was some trap that Javi’s partner might be falling into, that meant trouble for Javi. She couldn’t stand by idly and wait with that knowledge.

She remained composed, finishing her drink before a schmoozy goodbye, a promise to catch up as soon as plans were made. She acted nonchalant until she was past all the checkpoints, she knew better than to act in any sort of rush. Her little cabana was tucked away out of sight from the road between the deeply nooked mountain homes of powerful men and the city. She tried calling into town, a risk she was willing to take while she scurried to change her clothes and add a gun to her ensemble. She asked for Pena first. When she was informed he was not there she asked for his partner, and the same answer found her. She hung up swiftly, heavily armed but light on information. She knew the east side of the city would be the smallest area she could narrow it down to. She hoped her mind didn’t fail her at calculating where to go.

On her motorbike she darted about the streets, eyes peeled, heading by Javi’s place and finding his car gone, and the oil spots now dry, in its wake. He hadn’t been home in a while. Was it the smartest idea to break into an officer’s apartment? No. But was she? Yes. Javi had always been a researcher, if they were going to be zeroing in on a place, he would’ve been to it already. He was an active learner, not passive. He’d never be satisfied with being told what to do, he had to get in and see, touch, taste, and smell for his own opinion to be formed. She took a quick loop around, finding nothing out of the ordinary and circling back to the front door. The place was nicer than she’d expected, it did smell like liquor and cigarettes but so did he off hours. A little mirror and a catch-all basket by the door on a small table was her target, and inside were matchbooks, places she’d watched him go before buried beneath but one she wasn’t as familiar with on top. A pool hall, which wasn’t Javier’s style, sat like a sore thumb. She took the hint, this must’ve been the place they were headed, or at least close to it. She pulled her hair back and looked at herself once in the mirror before a nod to reassure herself and once again she was back out among the busy streets.

She pulled up and parked by a small marketplace, a casual place to leave her bike while she set off on foot, eyes behind her glasses ready to pick up any little nuance. Sadly seeing a guy with an automatic rifle wasn’t automatically a tell for narco behavior, this part of town was rough, you had to defend yourself. The uptick in the number of guys sauntering in the streets with them did however raise a red flag. She took to the rooftops with light feet, sneaking about and hopping from ledge to tin roof, shimmying up pipes and broken walls to scan. Not many were out on their rooftops, making it easy for her to cover lots of space fast, but that was also a bad sign. Like before a natural disaster happens, the animals clear out. The sentiment was the same.

She found a nice place to camp out, shaded by the sun and out of sight of the street on a corner near the pool hall. She could hear the static of a two-way radio a few buildings over from time to time, each time it made her jolt and she was growing impatient. The only thing that kept her calm was that she hadn’t heard any gunshots, and even that was grasping at straws. She eyes a few streets down, higher-end vehicles in red and blue, one after another. This meant one of two things, narcos or cops. She leaves the safety of her cubbyhole and crawls about to find a way to move quickly. She wasn’t being the most stealthy, leaping from ledges, but she had to follow the cars. Her instincts had been right.

Men in and out of uniform pile out, talking quietly, moving swiftly. Now she had to worry about staying out of sight as she got closer. She saw men on the rooftops she hadn’t noticed before, with sights on their guns and she would bet itchy trigger fingers. The static of a distant radio blurts out, a hushed voice in Spanish says “They’re here. Moving into position.”

It was a trap. The situation made her stomach drop and her pulse quicken. She wanted to be close, to warn them… well, to warn Javi. She was about to insert herself into the narco’s game and that would put a huge target on her back. It would potentially ruin her chances of booking this career-ending job she’d landed. She pulls out her gun, switching the safety off, and lowering herself with burning thighs as she used all her slyness. She could get away with it if she was smart about it... and killed all the witnesses.

She knew between the choices of standing by and watching Javi die, or intervening and getting ousted, she could only live with herself in one of those situations. Better to go out fighting for someone she loved than to be a coward and die with regrets. She jumps ahead, closer to where they seemed to be funneling to, various bursts of static around her as she studies to keep a close eye on not coming across anyone lurking.

She sees that shiny, coiffed head of black hair she’d wanted to run her hands through just days before, the lean build and tight jeans wrapped up in a bulletproof vest. His head was on a swivel, she knew he could look after himself but wasn’t about to take chances. She finds a man on his stomach, gun through a small slot in the wall, and aimed in their direction. She takes her moment patiently, padding foot over foot closer and closer with her gun drawn and her knife at the ready in the other hand. He wore no identifying markings, he wasn’t one of them, he might’ve heard her if he was. He was too zeroed in, potentially coked up so she had to act discreetly. She paused until that coke nose of his itched, hand off the trigger for only a few seconds before she latched and covered his mouth, head back and stabbing in deep to keep him making any sounds. It’s not that she wanted to kill him, she just saw no other way for this interaction to go down.

From here she had a better vantage point and was trying hard to look away from Javi and keep her eyes on every alley and rooftop. She lines up her eye with the scope, seeing it was aimed right at the group, she notices a man across from her, just a slight bit of an angle, an accomplice she assumed. The group moved forward, inching closer to being in between the two guns' direct line of sight. There wasn’t even a need for the sights at this point, a spray could take most of them out in a few seconds. These were calculated kills.

“Dibs on the gringo.” a crackle over the radio in Spanish, then another, “Which? There’s so many.” a hiss of laughter and she hears it from the other side of a half wall. They must’ve had multiple men camped out, she knew they intended to kill as many as possible. She couldn’t scream out, she couldn’t shoot them, she had to find that millisecond between when they would shoot and let their position be known. “When they get to the cars. Wait. Then fire.”

“What if I don’t fuckin’ want to? I want to shoot this smug look off this mother fucker’s face.”

“We won’t get them all if you don’t wait.”

She had pieces of information and tried to see the whole picture. She believed in the car there was a remote bomb being held by one of these sicarios. It’d take a good piece of them out and render them blind. It was a plan that had worked many times, but this time she’d be happy to fuck up a well-laid plan.

“Get the white boy, he’s been snooping. I got the mustache. Asshole fucked my sister.” If this had been any other situation it would’ve made her laugh, or at least crack a smile. But now it gave her a target, a plan of action.

“Maybe if your sister wasn’t a whore.” one laughs then a hiss follows throughout the rooftops among the static.

“Fuck you, man. Shut up or I’ll make sure you get shot today too.”

She moved as quickly as she could, having to backtrack to not be seen and climb over the wall to sneak up on the boy who was claiming Javi as a prize. She hunched over him, taking a chance at being seen, but since she couldn’t make out the placements of any of the other voices, she took her chances. A tension-filled hush fell across the street, no one but the cops out now. She waited for the man to readjust his arm, a sure sign of pulling the trigger shortly. They were holding their breath for the bomb, and she was assuming it was the double-parked cars, waiting for the group to get between them and hit them from all angles.

He swallowed, then popped his neck, settling down, face away from the hole he aimed out of and she took only a second to make up her mind. She shot him in the head as he braced himself.

“TRAP!” she screamed with all the force she could manage, tasting blood as she hit the ground, the cops now on high alert to the rooftops, and the guns fired. She’d given them enough time to duck for cover, having to take out the gunfire from one side of the street herself. She heard the bullets whizzing by as she hunched and ran down to the street, an alleyway where Javi had huddled down a moment before she saw the men barrel down the stairs opposite them. They’d had the same idea. “JAVI!” she screams, gun out and trying to peak from behind a dumpster.

His eyes were wild for the second he met hers. Confusion is all that read on his face, unable to answer under the gunfire.

“FOLLOW ME!” she shouted, firing off rounds to cover him as she motioned him towards her.

“You wanna explain-?” He’s caught off by the bombs in the street going off, knocking him back.

“SHUT UP AND RUN!” she shouts, shoving him forward, “You’re surrounded. Head West!” it’s all they needed, him hitting the pavement as hard as he could and her grabbing him by the vest to jerk him the way she needed. She hoisted him up against walls, all while hearing the men shouting and the stray spray of bullets hitting the corners they’d just passed. She knew they weren’t concentrated west, the men would instinctively run east towards the station, towards the backup, but she knew better.

She raced ahead, a small blocked-off space high up is what she yanks him down into. They don’t speak for a moment, catching their breath and her pushing him down to look out to see if anyone had been able to keep up with them.

“Now can I ask a fucking question?!” he rasps out.

“I got wind of something going down in the east today. So I came. And you should be kissing my ass for saving yours!”

“We were about to-”

“About to get blown the fuck up. Whatever you thought that was, it was a trap.”

“How did you know?” his eyes narrowed at her accusingly.

“I know that look and no, I’m not working with the narcos. I overheard some cronies at my meeting this morning. I narrowed down the options, ran across town and scoped it out, took out two guys, and then...lit the keg and ran.”

He blinks rapidly in response, processing the information.

“Yeah, you’re welcome. They wanted to kill you and your partner pretty bad.”

“Doesn’t surprise me.”

“Apparently you fucked one of their sisters?”

"I stand by my response.”

She smiles at him, something he doesn’t expect. He doesn’t have time to react until a few stray bullets hit something near them causing them to hunker down again.

“You could’ve gotten killed you know.”

“I’ve done it before.”

“Not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.” she rolls her eyes.

“I’m serious.” he grabs her wrist. “I have to deal with you being with these other... assholes and not the ones I deal with. Don’t make me worry twice about you.”

“I’m a big girl. I can handle it. I promise. I wasn’t about to let you walk into an ambush.” she states defensively.

“I’ve made it out before.” he huffs defensively.

“You will until one day you won’t.” when she meets his eyes again, after seeing his soot-covered knuckles wrapped around her wrist, she adds “If I can keep your ungrateful ass around long enough to make up for all the shit I put you through I’m gonna do it.”

He looks her up and down, but not how he had countless times with women, but biding his time to figure out what about that statement he wanted to ask her first. “What do you want me around for if you’re not gonna be there?” It was direct and hurtful, but also a fair point.

She stops looking out and meets his dark eyes to hers, she looked almost offended. “I want to be around,” she says softly. “I just wasn’t sure how.”

“Stay with me. Stop running. I’ll keep you safe.” he moves his hand from her wrist to interlock his fingers into hers.

“Over 20 years and you still haven’t come up with anything else?” she jokes and squeezes his hand. “I did want to talk to you about it. About… us...” she spoke softly and paused, ears perked up to the movement outside.

“What do y-”

“Shh.” a quick and low serious squeeze of his hand. “Someone’s close.”

“Where the fuck are you Javi?” blares out over his radio on his chest. Not a second later, bullets are coming through the back of their hiding spot, scrambling to get out, despite her fighting him, he covers her.

“Rooftop. West.” is grunted out as he and Esme wrestle to be the one to shoot the perpetrator.

She hits his chest and then right in the head, falling in a slump before she notices Javi is no longer hovering and trying to keep her down. A quick turn, intaking the rest of the space, knowing more would be on their way soon, and whether they were cops or sicarios she couldn’t let them find her. In her rush she hasn’t noticed Javi on the ground, she sees his face for only a second, slightly confused before looking at up her the moment she sees his side and hands covered in blood.

“Oh fuck, Javi... no.” She spits out and immediately ducks over him

“S’not... good news sweetheart.” He gives her a smirk, one she’d seen a thousand times on a younger version of his face. She knew with that expression alone it was indeed not good.

She doesn’t get time to react, to even breathe before more shots make her go into survival mode. She covers him, dragging him to a nearby brick wall to at least be safe from one side while she covered the others.

“Can you watch behind me while I look at this?”

“Yeah.” A pause while he holds his gun out. “I can try.”

“Was that your partner on the radio?”

“Yeah should be here soon.”

“Let’s hope so.” She grits her teeth and can’t tell if the shot went straight through, which meant he would probably be okay if it hit in and was now embedded in his stomach. Either way, this wasn’t ideal, to say the least.

“There’s-“

Before he gets it out she’s turned and shooting more men trying to get on the roof, none having the foreign blonde hair and pale skin of his partner.

“You should get out of here... y’know. They’ll ask questions.”

“I’m not leaving you.” She applies pressure to his side and he lets his head fall back to the wall with a heavy breath.

“Now is a hell of a time to start.”

She gives him a hard brow but would normally laugh because he had a point. “I never... ugh.” She grunts in frustration, shooting another man a few rooftops over. “I never wanted to leave you.” She continues trying to figure out the best way to slow the bleeding down. “It's the last thing I wanted to do. You know that right?” She asks to receive no response.

She sees he’s lost consciousness. Now it was proving to be worse than she had hoped. Cursing under her breathe, fighting back tears, the burning making a splitting headache form in her forehead, she uses the only thing in sight she can, taking her shirt off and ripping it tie a makeshift tourniquet around him.

She hears a bark from a man that sounds almost familiar and a dead giveaway as a cop. His partner was almost there. “You’ll be fine Javi.” She whispers, not knowing if she believed it or if he could even hear her. She kisses his cheek and holds his head close for a moment. A few seconds of kissing his hair, trying to forge a deep memory from a rushed moment. Just in case.

“JAVI?!” She hears shouted.

“UP HERE!” she shouts, knowing she had to get away but wasn’t going to leave him until she had to. She was soon not given a choice when orders were barked at her on sight.

She used her savvy, knowing how to get away, even if it was a stretch. “He’s shot.” She says backing away with her hands up to the edge of the roof. “Murphy, please don’t let him die.” She begs as the man’s face softens for a moment, she recognized he must have understood who she was.

The man coming up behind him however didn’t. He fires off a shot, hitting her and forcing her to make an abrupt jump from the rooftop.

“SHIT!” Murphy barks again and shoves the other man’s gun to aim down at the ground. “Don’t shoot HER!” He shouts in the man’s face. “She was helping him! Can’t you see that?!” He runs to the edge, looking down and seeing nothing but a dumpster and a few drops of blood on the pavement. Javi had been right. She was good.

@jaegeeeeer @likedovesinthewnd @inkededucatednnerdy @biharryjames @ladamari68 @past-romantic @weliketomoveit @shikin83

#Javier Pena #Javier Pena Fanfic #javier pena x reader #javier pena fic #javier pena fan fic

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runner5ive · 4 years

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Five and Sam

Right. Y’all spoke and I heard you. This is heavily inspired by @littlelionmay‘s posts about how she pictures her Five/Sam (which are adorable and you should def check them out: 1,2,3)

I’ve also referenced certain scenes I’ve drawn so I’ve included links to them if anyone cares :’)

Background/head canon-y stuff on Sam and Five below the cut:

I've attempted to avoid spoilers but there may be a few references to certain missions throughout.

Five is a Hardened Grouchy Baby when they first meet Sam and they're not exactly expecting to stay in Abel for long so they don't really attempt to get to know him or anyone else for that matter.

Sam's the only one who can speak BSL in Abel (until he reaches everyone else) so that sort of forces them to become a little closer. Even if it's begrudgingly.

Five's always glad Sam can barely see their face on runs because they're always grinning at his stupid comments.

After a few missions, Five realised they're starting to warm to Sam, which doesn't sit right with them at all because they've always moved around and never had much of a chance for friends in the past.

(When they first meet the other runners, Five has a moment of thinking Simon was hella attractive until he opened his mouth and spoke and they were like 'lmao never mind'. Jody was never on the cards because she is a precious bean who needs protecting at all costs.)

The morning of zr season 1 mission 6 (no spoilers) Five finds themself sat with him at lunch, even laughing with him, and it unsettled them how friendly they're both becoming. They throw their defences back up suddenly and decide that it's enough, they'll avoid Sam unless they're on a mission together.

SPOILERS FOR ZR S1M7: because who can avoid writing about A Voice in the Dark? Sam is forced to report that Five is missing in action to Mullins. When he comes on the comms, the exact moment Five decides they're going to live and make it home is when he calls them their friend for the first time. As they stagger through the gates they race straight to him.

(Some spoilers for same episode ??) The next day, when they're released from quarantine, they sit and stare at the missing in action report for the longest time knowing that fixing it would mean they could be pulled back to Mullins at any point. Sam gently suggests that they don't amend it, and Five considers it for a long while. They shut off the computer without sending the report and signs 'Abel is my home' for the first time.

After S1M7, Sam organises for them to get their own bunk. He decorates it so it's all nice and homely for them.

Sam and Five only get closer after this. They're still a little Awkward around him and the other runners, not exactly used to being so friendly with others, but with a bit of encouragement their goofy goblin side starts to show.

Honestly Sam was such a bad influence on them much to Janine's dismay (she actually thought for a while thats she had a stoic, serious soldier working for her).

Five probably has a moment when Sam and Maxine sends them for board games when they think 'oh my god I love my dorks' and they mean it completely platonically but it's like fucking whiplash for them because they're Their dorks!

Five fondness for Sam keeps growing. He's talking to them one day about a game of Demons and Darkness and Five is just smittened by how dorky he is. They realise how nice it is just being there with him is the warmest and most comfortable they've felt... well, ever.

So they just stand up, grab his hoody, and yank him into a kiss.

There’s no romantic declaration of love. Hell, they don't even think they're in love with him at that point. But they make their affections shown.

It’s very much a moment of ‘This boy. I want him.’

Sam for the first time is speechless as he watches them walk away, smirk on their face.

They both sort of silently come to a decision not to mention that kiss to anyone or even each other.

But it's the start of something.

If Five gets back from a mission where Sam somehow saves their life, you can bet that they'll head straight to the comms shack after their decontamination shower to seize him into a kiss again.

Sam has no idea what's going on but he is not complaining. Heck, probably the best part of the missions.

Jody and Maxine catch them in the act one time and grab a photo for Simon.

When Jody asks how long they'd been in a relationship, Sam says something like "Five and I aren't in a relationship??? What kiss???" and somehow the photo has disappeared (and Five is just stood by as Jody searches wildly for it like 😏). Jody is FURIOUS about this.

This is why it's never mentioned in missions because they are 100% not in a relationship nope not at all they just really enjoy being around each other and put each other before anything else and get to kiss occasionally

It is Hot Gossip for one hot minute but neither of them are particularly into public displays of affection so after a while it's sort of forgotten by most of Abel. Especially without Jody's evidence.

Though the people they work with tease them for it becuase it’s clearn there’s SOMETHING but they also warn new people not to even consider pursuing one of them.

Maxine is the one who decides that this whole thing is Not Healthy and threatens to lock them in a room together until they discuss their feelings for each other.

Sam is the one who convinces her otherwise. He tells her that don't talk about it and have never needed to talk about it, but they are very much aware of how they feel for each other.

Plus, keeping it as a 'non-relationship' takes the pressure off because they're both superstitious as heck and believe that making it 'official' will equal certain death for one or both of them because apocalypses have a tendency to tear away any happiness as soon as it appears so it's their way of sort of protecting each other.

Maxine is Sceptical but she guessed it makes sense. And if they're happy then who is she to complain.

Happy is definitely the right word. Both of them are the happiest they’ve been in ages. And the fact it’s a non-relationship means theres no awkward transition period. They’re the exact same, goofballs who get excited over D and D or dorky finds only with a few extra benefits.

There's still slip ups though: "That's MY Runner Five!"

They don't do 'good luck kisses' at all because that feels very ominous. Like a goodbye.

Instead they do 'well done kisses' which they share after most missions because that means Five HAS to survive and get back home.

Basically their whole situation is based around superstitious nonsense but it makes sense to them even if no one else understands.

Five insists that Sam puts Abel before them every time. He begrudgingly agrees, but insists that when everyone else is safe, then he'll do what he can to save them too.

You can bet your ass that if bad guys threaten one of them then the other is ready to throw fists.

Some missions have to be kept secret from Five/Sam because as soon as they realise that the other is in danger then they rage.

“UM EXCUSE ME WHY IS MY OPERATOR OUTSIDE OF ABEL AND WHO THE HELL AUTHORISED IT I JUST WANT TO TALK"

#zr #zombies run #zr 5am #5am zr #sam yao #five #runner five #runner 5 #5am

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freezinginacozyfoxhole · 5 years

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Multifaceted

Female!Sniper reader X Bill ‘Hoosier’ Smith

Synopsis: First time drinking can have serious consequences. You experience it on your skin when Hoosier has to put up with your shift of attitude.

Disclaimers: This story is based strictly on the actor portrayals of the characters. I respect the real people and their heroic deeds. Also, English is not my native language and my English level is somewhere around B2 so I’m sorry in advance for my poor language choice. Enjoy!

Melbourne during wartime was lovely, you thought as you downed another drink in the wild hollers of the boys. In fact, it was even better than home. You could have a proper hot bath in the house of a stranger who then pampered you like their own child. You could enter a shop and be assaulted with questions from young boys and discrete glances from their mothers. You could talk to your father after two months and found out that Lew's sister was having a baby boy and that she would have hoped to have you by her side at the christening. The number of things that were happening around you and to you was overwhelming.

You were living the time of your life; you told yourself, a broad smile spreading across your face. You had a bed with a proper mattress, the opportunity to eat out every evening, and to jog around the parks in the morning. It was not even at home that you felt so peaceful, so self-accomplished.

Although, there was still a war raging on and the fact that you were to be deployed back in the Pacific in two days was no sweet reminder. A bitter thought. But as you were waiting for a refill, you let your eyes wander around the crowded bar. Barely wincing at the heavy cigarette smoke which you've eventually grown accustomed to, you briefly saw Chuckler making out with some Australian girl, Runner trying to hit on one and then Sidney, sweet and reserved Sidney, in deep conversation with his Australian companion you knew as Gwen. She was exquisite, you stared at her, without realizing that you, in fact, were comparing yourself to her. A perfect little doll face with an elegant posture and a shiny blonde hair with curls that embraced her flower-patterned dress. Glancing down at your army-issued trousers, you couldn't help but shrug and remember how a dress used to feel from the time you used to wear them back home. As another pint of beer was passed by the barman, he flashed a smile at you and leaned closer:

'Ain't enjoying the night out, miss?'

You gave him a reluctant look, knowing that he was hitting on you. Everyone loved the uniform.

'I'm fine, thank you,' you smiled politely at him, declining the drink. 'Although some bourbon would be nice -do you happen to have some?'

He leaned even closer so that there were only a few inches between your face and his. Winking at you, he let out a low whistle:

'Missin' the American flavor, missie? 'Cause, you know, the Australian taste is also unforgettable -if you know what I mean!'

Feeling a warm blush creeping in your cheeks, you stood up and did what seemed perfectly rational at that moment: you slapped him right across his freshly shaven cheek. With a shocked but amused expression, he looked up at you with a mischievous sneer that scared you a little. No one but the two of you seemed to notice the sudden interaction, which made you aware of how drunk everyone in the room was. Including yourself.

'Guess the missie likes it the hard way!' he kept on with his shit-eating grin as he began to seize you with a hungry glance that made you feel literally naked. 'How about I show you my-'

With your breath fastening at each of his words, you got up on your legs and hurtled out of the room. Your father may have tried to prepare you for this kind of uncomfortable situations. Still, he failed to mention the cockiness or the sheer lust etched across their face -or your drunk mind was unable to remember everything with accuracy.

You stumbled to the door, tears forming in the corner of your eyes. That's how always things went -everything was great for a while, something unexpected happened, and everything fell apart. And you were right in the middle of it, a fool and innocent girl in a world of men. You fought to be a part of it, had to prove yourself to remain in it, and now all you wanted was to get the heck out of everything and cuddle with your blanket in your bed.

'Hey, Y/N! Was actually looking for ya!'

A joyous shout came from the other side of the street and you hastily turned your head in the sound's direction, trying to wipe the anxiety off your face. Hoosier stopped in his traces to wave at you, and you tried to wave back, but you unceremoniously broke down in tears. A rush of relief surged through your veins, and the next thing you knew was that you were clinging to Bill's body for dear life, with tears streaming down across your face.

'Slow down, slow down. What happened?' he asked with a worried voice, his hands slowly brushing the hair out of your face. 'Did someone do something to you?' his tone suddenly raised as you looked up to him.

'I want to get out of here' you blurted the words out, unaware of how drunk you were until you tried to take another step and ended up in Bill's arms. 'Some guy tried hitting on me, I asked him for some bourbon, and then he began saying something about the Australian flavor and -OH MY GOD, just get me out of here, please!' you pleaded as the words just kept coming out of your mouth.

'And just how much did you drink before asking for the bourbon?' he felt compelled to ask as he had also drunk a few shots beforehand.

'Just enough to end up like this,' you smiled bitterly contemplating your state. 'I'm miserable, Bill, that's what I am. And you know what?' you asked him as you felt a sudden pang of hope. 'I'm so miserable that I am going to embark on the ship right now and sleep until they force me to land on another God-forgotten island! Yes, that's it, no one is going to stop me from-'

'Yes, you drank enough.' he stated for himself as he was looking at you blabbering and making plans with that drunk determination on your face. 'Wait, is this your first time getting drunk?' he asked you on a slightly high-pitched tone that betrayed his sloppiness. 'You look rather cute, actually...'

'You think so?' You suddenly asked with a small smile on your face. 'You know Sid's girl, Gwen? I think she's gorgeous with her gleaming long hair and her flawless silhouette. You should go and find your Gwen too, Hoos!' you suddenly exclaimed, giving him a serious pat on the shoulder.

A corner of his mouth lifted while watching your forehead creasing from all the connections you wanted to make with your drunk mind. You were so innocent and unaware of the fact that he'd been looking for you so he could confess his feelings before being deployed once again. But considering the pretty shaken up state he'd found you into, he couldn't make any move on you -he cared too much for you to see you being overwhelmed by too many feelings.

'Go ahead, lover boy! I'll be waiting for you right here!' you promptly stated as you sat down on the ledge of the alley.

You looked at him with your tired and naïve eyes, your reserved smile revealing your actual condition: a first-time drunk girl who was just sick of being among strangers and wanted to go home. But for the fact that home was an ocean away. His brows furrowed at the distressing sight, and he lowered down on his knees, bringing his face closer to yours.

'How about I take you somewhere quiet and cozy?' he asked you gently, taking your cold hands in this. 'I think I know just the place.'

Blinking slightly confused at his way too gentle attitude, you shot him a suspicious look. Ever since you came here, he either spent his time sleeping or hanging around with you- you got closer during Guadalcanal, but you'd expected him to act like all the other guys did and find himself a nice Australian gal to waste his time with. Yet there he was, enduring your drunk self who kept saying things that made no sense in your head -what was holding him back?

'Come on. Up on your feet!' He slid a hand around your waist, trying to get you back up despite your quiet protests.

Eventually, you stood up and tried again to take a few steps by yourself until it proved a little too difficult, and you crashed ungraciously against a wall and let out a muffled pain sound as Bill hurried to catch you.

'Well, fuck.' You plainly stated, unaware that you just said a terrible word. 'I'm giving up!' You eventually shouted as you rested your head against Bill's body.

He had wrongly assessed your state until that point. Even then he did not understand what kind of drunk you were -because your actions seemed to be a mix-up between the sad drunk and the sleepy drunk, but then again you had moments when you were highly realistic-

A faint snore interrupted his train of thoughts, and he glanced down to realize that you had fallen asleep, clinging on to his shirt. He laughed to himself as he gently stroked your ponytail, enthralled by the vague smell of roses that it still bore.

The sudden sound of shattered glass came from across the street and made him rise his glance in that direction, deciding that it's time he took you to a quieter place. Moving as silent as he could, he managed to place you on his back so that your hands we're barely brushing his chest as your regular breath tickled his left cheek.

As the night moved around you two, he slowly carried you through the quiet streets of the Australian city, the stars and the moon quietly watching over you both.

He may not have been able to tell you what he was feeling like, but as you lazily wrapped your arms around his chest, leaving out a content moan, he couldn't imagine a better way to spend his last evening in Melbourne.

#the pacific #the pacific imagine #hoosier imagine #bill hoosier smith #the pacific hoosier #hoosier x reader

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roman-catholic-mass-readings · 4 years

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29th June >> Mass Readings (Europe, Africa, New Zealand, Australia & Canada)

Solemnity of Saints Peter and Paul, Apostles

Monday, Thirteenth Week in Ordinary Time.

Solemnity of Saints Peter and Paul, Apostles

(Liturgical Colour: Red)

First Reading

Acts of the Apostles 12:1-11

'Now I know the Lord really did save me from Herod'

King Herod started persecuting certain members of the Church. He beheaded James the brother of John, and when he saw that this pleased the Jews he decided to arrest Peter as well. This was during the days of Unleavened Bread, and he put Peter in prison, assigning four squads of four soldiers each to guard him in turns. Herod meant to try Peter in public after the end of Passover week. All the time Peter was under guard the Church prayed to God for him unremittingly.

On the night before Herod was to try him, Peter was sleeping between two soldiers, fastened with double chains, while guards kept watch at the main entrance to the prison. Then suddenly the angel of the Lord stood there, and the cell was filled with light. He tapped Peter on the side and woke him. ‘Get up!’ he said ‘Hurry!’ – and the chains fell from his hands. The angel then said, ‘Put on your belt and sandals.’ After he had done this, the angel next said, ‘Wrap your cloak round you and follow me.’ Peter followed him, but had no idea that what the angel did was all happening in reality; he thought he was seeing a vision. They passed through two guard posts one after the other, and reached the iron gate leading to the city. This opened of its own accord; they went through it and had walked the whole length of one street when suddenly the angel left him. It was only then that Peter came to himself. ‘Now I know it is all true’ he said. ‘The Lord really did send his angel and has saved me from Herod and from all that the Jewish people were so certain would happen to me.’

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 33(34):2-9

R/ From all my terrors the Lord set me free.