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astringofmadhousefloozies · 3 years

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The Birthday Fic

Several months in the making. Started around Ruggie’s birthday (Which is why he’s the opener) completed long past my own birthday.

Content warning for coarse language, sexuality, mentions of illness and the medication needed for managing it, and getting wildly horny to a point that even I was impressed with myself.

As always, there’s more in my Twisted Wonderland Fanfiction tag, send me a message if you liked it! (I know what the birthday gifts were from most everyone, even if not mentioned in-fic.)

~*~*~*~

"I'm sorry dude, what did you say? You ears started going and I just tuned the fuck out."

"I said, 'when's it your turn to have the school-run birthday party?' It's got it be soon." Ruggie's intentionally twitching his damn ears, has to be, and you had to physically shield your eyes to be able to answer properly.

"I don't fucking know, man, I need to have a birthday for that."

"Everyone has a birthday."

"Yeah, but I don't know when mine is."

"Can't Crowley tell you? He's got all kind of magic."

You sighed. "He tried that, so I could remember my proper name. He can't even get a year fix."

"That fucking sucks, Yuu." Ruggie passed you a pop can before cracking open one himself. "You should get one of these, too."

"Ah, maybe Riddle will take pity and dedicate me a specific Unbirthday party." What was this, melon? Not bad.

"That's not the same because you won't get loot."

"Yeah, you wanna go through fifty boxes of chocolates to get rid of all the ones with potion-of-suck-your-dick? I'm good."

He scrunched his nose in disgust. "People still trying love spells on you?"

"Not as much, but I still get Mal to check them over for me. He's good about that."

"He just doesn't want to share."

"Shush."

"It's true!" He stopped for a moment. "Does he know you don't have a birthday?"

"He hasn't realized yet and you're not going to tell him."

~*~*~*~

"Yuu?"

"Trey?" You blinked up at him. You didn't talk as much as you'd like to, mostly because every time he showed up your mouth rapidly filled with whatever treat he'd just made.

"What do you like best for cake?"

"I will literally eat anything that you put in front of me if you make it, even if it's full of shit I hate."

He raised an eyebrow. "Okay, new angle. What don't you like?"

Oh boy, he better prepare himself. "Fondant tastes gross, modeling chocolate is white chocolate so I hate it, a cake should be cake and not mostly fucking icing and rice crispy treats, most icing's too heavy for me if it's not whipped cream- why are you writing this down."

He looked up from his notebook, blinking at you with his pleasing yellow eyes. "Because you always give thoughtful feedback to my baking and I want to make you something as a thank you."

"Oh. If that's it, I'd rather have cheesecake."

~*~*~*~

"Mon Trickster~"

"Rook, I'm trying to re-" You yelped as he squeezed your waist, and you swatted at him. "Fuck's gotten into you?"

"What, I cannot play with my sweet friend?" He'd dragged you from your seat in the library, and was now doing his damndest to twirl you around without ramming you through the tables.

"Not right now! I expect this shit from Floyd, not you." He's going to get you both kicked out of the library if he doesn't smarten up.

"Our dearest Malfeasant is playing with the Rose King right now. Besides, he lacks my talents." He stretched your arms out straight before twirling you around, your back pressed to his front.

"Is that getting away with being a shithead?" you ask as you pap the side of his face, too little force to be a slap but with a similar message of 'stop'.

"Amongst much else, my dear!" He managed to dip you low, bracing one of your legs in the air, and you wiggled out of his grasp with a thump to the floor.

"Ah, what an invitation, ma belle! But alas, I cannot. It could never be. I'll see you at lunch." And he left you there, baffled, on the floor.

You wound up getting kicked out of the library after you started shrieking in rage and kicking like a damned toddler. What the fuck was that about?

~*~*~*~

"People are being weird."

"Everyone's weird around you." If Idia's combo kept, this would be a perfect match. "You encourage it in people with your presence. It's a passive AOE. No fighting against it."

"More than normal."

"It's the curse of spring. If you aren't sneezing, you see pretty girls and get stupid." He got his perfect match, and went back to the lobby. "Even I'm not immune to simp fever and spring flowers."

"You sure? You only go outside so you don't die of Vitamin D deficiency."

He pouted at you. "Girlfriends are supposed to be nice to you, you know."

"If I stopped, you'd wonder what's wrong. Anyway, then you couldn't brag to your followers about a tsundere girlfriend."

"You're not even a tsundere! You genuinely like me even when you're mean." He leaned back and stared at the ceiling. "You're maybe sadodere."

"What's that one?"

"Sadistic yet affectionate."

You opened your mouth but genuinely couldn't argue. He was too fucking cute not to be mean to! What can you say? That pwease-no-buwwy aura he got when distressed was just too much.

"Yeah." He paused, a small smile creeping across his face. "Yuu."

"Yeah?"

"You really like stripes, don't you?"

You looked down, at his blue striped shirt you were wearing. It honestly fit you better than it did him. Further down was pinstriped socks, and if you remembered, the underwear had stripes too.

"What do you think."

~*~*~*~

"Mal?" "Yes?" "Why do you have all this even if you don't wear any of it?" "I do wear earrings now, thanks to you." He dropped another oversized ring onto your finger. "The rest, I simply don't bother with unless I must appear in an official capacity."

"So I'm a special occasion?"

He smiled at you, sweet and genuine. "Always."

"Then why am I your jewelry rack today?" So many necklaces. So many rings. There'd be a crown on your head, too, if the crowns for Draconias weren't essentially elabourate chains hanging off the horns.

"Perhaps I enjoy seeing you wearing my things. You wear Shroud's all the time." He was slowly going through a box of rings, trading them on and off your fingers after puzzling over them.

"Your clothes are tailored, and I'm too big around." You thought for a moment. "So, Mal."

"Yes?"

"Are you planning on something you aren't telling me?"

He blanched and immediately went shift eyed. "Of course not."

You took a breath. "I'm gonna say no."

"Yuu-"

"I'm pretty sure your grandmother would eat me alive if I said yes."

"No!" He made a shushing guesture. "I... am planning something. But not a proposal, my goodness, that would be too much pressure for you and would splinter the kingdom." He sighed. "Even if I would like it."

"I know you would. What are you planning."

"No."

"Yes, tell me."

"It's a surprise. You'll get it at some point in the future."

You thought back to some of the stranger events of the past few weeks. "... is it a birthday party, Malleus."

"Nnnnnnoooooooooooooo?" His face was a desperate, wide-eyed mask of please-believe-me.

"Yes it is."

"I didn't say that."

"You might as well have!"

"It's not." He wasn't even facing you anymore, knowing his face would betray him.

You took a deep breath.

"I can keep pretending I don't know. I mean, if you want to throw a surprise party, I can't really stop you. And anyway," you added, "If I don't have a set birthday, there's no way I can know exactly when it's coming."

He relaxed, slightly.

"Don't get me a ring, though."

He chuckled. "That does have implications, doesn't it."

"Don't it, though?"

"I was checking what colours were most flattering for you." He finally turned around, all warm smiles. "I should have known. They all look lovely, because you're the one wearing them."

"Stop." You could feel you cheeks reddening. "If it helps, gold doesn't make my ears act up."

~*~*~*~

When you walked to your dorm one warm day, after school, you simply could not see the building for the brambles grown up since you left this morning.

"Yuu?"

"Grim?"

He squinted at you, unimpressed. "Your prince boyfriend has lost his fucking mind. Why'd he do this?"

"I think I know." You looked in amongst the branches, which held no roses, but something better. You plucked off a blackberry and held it to your little shoulder monster.

"Ew, no. I want tuna."

"Suit yourself." There was a path, and if you got on tiptoes, a tent half-hidden behind the briar. "You ready for a party, Grim?"

"What? What party?"

You shifted him from your shoulder to your hip as you walked along, careful of your sore arm. "They decided I needed a surprise party because I don't have an actual birthday. Figured it out like two... three? weeks ago."

"Why didn't you tell me?" He stopped, looked away, and bristled. "Why didn't they tell me?!?"

"Because you can't keep a fucking secret?"

He yelled and scrambled to the ground. "Hey assholes why didn't you tell me I better be getting presents too-" He's already out of sight, and you can't stop laughing at him. It's better like this, when he's himself.

~*~*~*~

Why is Everyone here. There's a huge stack of presents, there's a buffet table, there's chairs, there's -

"Shrimpie's here!" And then everyone converged with enough words that it was just a wall of sound; mystery hands leading you to a chair, someone was trying to stick a hat on you -

"Wait!"

People only stepped off and quieted because your voice cracked. Idia, hiding in a corner, managed to raise sympathetic eyebrows before whispering something into Azul's ear.

"I gotta go inside for like, five minutes, I'll be right back." And off you went.

~*~*~*~

"You don't seem the type to do drugs."

You looked up and laughed. "Well, Vil, I gotta get through the day somehow." You shook out two pills and poured a glass of water.

"What are they for?" He leaned against the doorway, as though it wouldn't cover his clothes with splinters and dust.

"These," you said as you pointed to the two in your hands "are anti-nausea. They're new."

"How many of those do you take?" He nodded towards the other bottles on the counter. “I didn’t see them during training.”

"Well," you said, as you started to number them off on your fingers. "I started the first ones after Eliza, to help stabilize my organs, the second ones were immunity-boosting after my pneumonia, I started taking vitamins after that as well, I got sleeping pills for nightmares after Jamil blotted - they don't always work, but hey - and, well." You shook your current bottle. "Your curse vapours are pretty good, it turns out."

He blanched, and you backpedaled. "You weren't yourself, and I only have to take these before meals now. I had to get IVs in the morning for a few days, I couldn't keep... wait, wait, shit, no, I'm sorry, don't make that face -"

Vil crossed the distance, putting his face very close to yours. "You should have told me."

"Why make you feel even worse, man?"

"Because I could have formulated something better for the damage." He flicked your nose, more exasperation than malice. "Cures and poison go hand in hand. I can't fix what was done if I don't know."

"Taking care of my medical woes is not your job, Vil."

"You don't get to tell me what is and isn't my job." He squeezed you close with one arm. "You're just an exhausting little potato."

"I'm a delicious little sweet potato that you can't resist."

He sighed, exhausted. "Yes you are. Now take your pills and stop with secrets."

~*~*~*~

"What kept you?"

"Had to make sure there's room in the fridge for all your food, Trey." He hadn't chosen one cheesecake - he had at least two dozen varieties of bite sized miniatures, labeled by flavour and potential allergens. "You were busy."

"Well, I felt like experimenting. I hope you don't mind."

"You're the one doing me a favour." You looked around, everyone chatting idly with one another. "Where's Mal."

"..."

"I swear to fucking god if he didn't get an invitation to the party he helped organize-"

~*~*~*~

It turns out he'd left to fetch an obnoxiously large bouquet of flowers, the scent so overpowering you thought your chair might tip from the force of it.

"You do enjoy them?" Mal was so cute when unsure.

"Yes, dear." As long as people didn't crowd in again. Lately, you can only take so much sensation before your brain shorts out and you start yelling. "Set them on the table, I'll have to start on them later." Hairspray and an arid room would have those dried within the week.

"Which part of the celebration will we start with first?"

"I don't know. It's my party but you're the ones throwing it. Where's Grim?"

He pointed over to one of the set up tables, where Grim sat in a pile of wrapping paper, furiously kick-scratching at a wriggling toy fish as big as he was, while Cater filmed. "We realized a few days ago he'd be unhappy if he didn't get his own presents."

"Aww. Is there catnip in that?"

He leaned in conspiratorially. "We're not supposed to have any on campus because Kingscholar is susceptible to it."

You went right past normal laughter straight to wheezing.

~*~*~*~

So far, the highlights were: A mycological photobook from Jade big enough to crush someone's head with (that he cheerfully wrote as such on the inside flap), an enormous multipack of slipper socks from Ruggie (with a note saying it was a return on the doughnut-patterened ones you'd given him for his own birthday) and a parure set from Floyd, crafted from thousands of woven seed pearls with carved coral feature beads that was frankly obscene in the amount of money it must have cost. (He, of course, said it was worth it as long as you wore it for him, and simply laughed when you quipped that he meant with clothing right?)

The rest was fantastic, still - various books and movies, a pretty glass vase from Ace stuffed with wildflowers, fine silk dresses from Kalim and a simple belled bracelet tucked in, from Jamil. Currently, you were opening a basket from Vil.

"Oh, wow," you meant with sincerety as you pulled out a light, fragrant soap. "You make this yourself?"

"Yes. There's soaps, shampoo, conditioner, perfumes, lotions..."

You smiled at him sweetly. "You saying I stink, Shoenheit?"

He mirrored your smile right back at you. "Be sure to use them."

"... I'm going to kill you," you said, laughing, as you lobbed the wrapping paper at his face.

~*~*~*~

"Az?"

"Mm?" He was watching with amusement as you looked the jacket over, a lovingly tailored frock coat in periwinkle wool and shell toggles.

"Are you sure this'll fit?"

"Of course." He guestured down the table to Rook, who waved. "He checked your measurements."

"When did-" Ohhhhhh. Oh. Alright. "I'm surprised he couldn't tell by just looking."

"I could, mon ange! But that was more fun!"

~*~*~*~

Malleus barely hid his pout when sliding his box over to you, and it didn't take you long to guess why. "Floyd's jewels really show yours up, huh."

"Perhaps," he said, pointedly not looking at the boy currently playing with Grim.

"Yours are more special because they're from you." When unwrapped, the box was stunning; carved walnut with shell inlaid curlicues. "My god, how old is this?"

"Older than I am," he said with a smile.

"How old is that, Mal."

He just kept smiling, and you rolled your eyes and opened the box to reveal a piece far, far different than the frothy confection Floyd gave you. A single, sizable brooch of gilt and enamel, a tiny faerie woman staring up at you with imperious emerald eyes, she was so lovingly crafted you could see the tension of her muscles and the hair between her legs.

"This piece is only a hundred and fifty years old," he said mildly. "The artist lives in the Valley of Thorns, and created it in the image of her lover." His smile was fond, and sweet. "They're still together to this day. Even if we may not last so long, I hope that it can be as strong."

The sentiment was enough to make you tear up.

~*~*~*~

Several tissues and a bat-shaped blanket from Lilia later, Idia pulled out a large box. And another, and another.

"Uh, Idia."

He just turned red as he stacked another box.

"Dude, holy fuck. What did you do?"

"Looked at your wishlist on your shopping websites." He's flickering pink at the tips of his hair. "Couldn't decide."

"I told him to just get them all!" Ortho looked wildly proud of himself. "Some of them are from me."

You blinked several times. "I thought the sites broke." You started feeling faint. "Idia."

"Yes?" He finally brought out one last box, easily two thirds your height, and set it in front of you.

"Some of those dolls were... so much madol."

He was shifty-eyed. "Yeah."

"Some of the outfits were themselves more than some of the dolls on those wishlists."

Despite the redness, his face was still. "Yeah."

"Oh my god." You're already sitting down, but you need to lie down. "That's too much money."

"It's nothing, don't worry about it."

"Why do you have so much money one of those sites alone was at least a million madol's worth of-"

"Please just open the boxes," he said in a strained voice. "I don't want them all staring."

You take your shaking hands to start unwrapping, mentally trying to figure out which rooms in the building were sound enough to hold obscene amounts of porcelain, resin and plastic. By the time you were done, there were over forty of varying shapes and sizes with complete wardrobes for each; the last not even on any list - that was an art piece near as tall as you, a fine bone china girl with golden curls and knowing eyes from an artist whose work did not go for less than five million madol even firsthand. Your vision greyed at the sight of her, and when you came to your senses, everyone breathed a sigh of relief before spending the rest of the evening treating you as something at least as delicate and precious as her.

~*~*~*~

It's just past sunset, and guests are still milling about. You're not really looking at them, though - you're losing your little friend.

Grim's only himself in daylight, now. Once the night hits, he goes back to the strange, feral thing that laid your wrist open to eat a chunk of solid ink. He's gone twitchy, wordless, pacing with his now headless robot fish in his mouth, before finally tearing through the brambles to god-knows-where.

"... I don't know what to do about it. He doesn't come back at night anymore. What if he doesn't come back at all one night?"

"I won't let that happen." Idia was draped over the back of your chair, idly playing with the wrapping on your wrist. You couldn't see his face, but a curious tension was clear in his voice. "How many of those crystals has he eaten?"

"All of them, as far as I know." There may have been one on the camping trip that you were mercifully excluded from; thankfully your restraining order against Vargas meant that Grimm had been allowed to attend by himself. Good thing, too, your period had arrived weeks early. "Do you think it's like mercury poisoning? The effects get worse as more collects in his body?"

"Maybe. It's something to look into."

You snorted, lightly. "What do you know about it?"

"... Less than I'd like." Before you could ask, he leaned down to your ear to whisper, "I'd rather know you."

"What, now?" You looked around at the tables. "There's still people here-"

You barely stifled a cry when he nipped at your earlobe. "I put on something nice for you~" You could hear the smirk in his voice as he played every trick in his book to goad you. "Unwrap me and see~"

It took every ounce of self control in you to not throw him down on the table and take him right there, in front of God and every student in the school.

~*~*~*~

"I'm too late, I see."

"Close that damned door before everyone hears."

Malleus obediently shut the door to the balcony before setting his slotted pillow on the dresser. "They couldn't even if they had their ear to the door, I soundproofed all our rooms months ago."

"Aren't you clever. Did they buy the excuse?"

"I think that they would have believed that you were going to bed if you did not say it as soon as Shroud went inside looking very proud of himself."

You flopped back onto your pillows, eliciting a sleepy grunt from Idia. "Shit."

"And if you didn't trip on the stairs in your haste."

"Now you're making fun of me."

"Perhaps," he smiled, sitting at the foot of your bed and idly stroking your leg.

"So, why didn't you tail up after us?"

"I am, if I try very hard, capable of some discretion, even when it comes to you," he huffed. "And anyway, someone had to see everyone off, get everything put away, and bring the gifts inside."

Your face fell. "I'm sorry-"

He crept up to put a finger to your lips. "It was very simple. Now," he pressed himself against you and turned to look at Idia's drowsing form, "what is this?"

You snickered lightly to yourself. "I think he found my browsing history." All you'd left on him was a fine pair of silk stockings, with delicate stripes from thigh to toe. You'd never thought he'd even consider wearing something like that, but your pretty blue boy was so full of surprises.

Malleus hummed to himself as he reached out a hand, dragging a finger along one bruised hip. Idia only sighed and fluttered his lashes, and Mal let out a stuttering gasp.

"Do you think," he whispered, voice hoarse, "that if I took these off with my teeth, that he would still stay asleep?"

You felt faint at the thought. "I don't know, but let me watch you try."

~*~*~*~

You awoke, later, to Idia sitting with the blankets pooled around his waist, five of his blue screens open. You couldn't make much sense of them, too sleepy to make out the letters on their obnoxious brightness, so you reached out both hands to squeeze his waist.

He yelped and scowled at you. "Go to sleep."

"No, you." The screens weren't making any more sense, but there was, briefly, a picture of Grim. "What are you working on?"

"I'm almost done," he said, which was not an answer but you were too tired to notice, so you reached up his back to wind a few locks of hair around your hand - and pulled, which lead to another annoyed yelp as he quickly saved and closed his work. "Just say you're weak to light attacks instead of doing that."

"You know I am." When he finally laid back down beside you, you put your face to his chest, as much to block out the light from his hair as for warmth and comfort. No wonder he slept so poorly, he literally gave off blue light every hour of the day, that only dimmed once he was already asleep. "Tell me about it later, okay?"

"Later," he said, and you drifted off between your two boys, which was almost as nice as sleeping with Grim in your bed, but this would have to do until he got better.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fanfiction #malleus draconia #idia shroud #twst grim

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xxsmokeyy · 4 years

Note

ok so how about a story where (preferably bi) reader and levi both fall for petra and there's this competition between them as to who can win petras heart first but after petras death (or some other issue; your choice) they both mourn and bond with each other and realize that all those times they tried to outshine each other, they fell for each other instead

Levi x Petra x Bi! Reader (F) One Or The Other

genre: mild angst, fluff (healing)

summary: it’s a bit surprising that despite being rivals, both you and Levi have gotten through a lot together. before you know it, you’re already seeking refuge from one another.

tw: mentions of death

wc: 6,575

You know it’s a heck of a risk trying to aim for someone’s hand like Petra’s. She’s the entire definition of a dainty, lovely girl everybody admires, of course including you. Besides, you don’t even know if you stand a chance, not when there’s a tough guy your way.

Namely, Captain Levi.

Well, there’s another one named Oluo, but you don’t even think of him as a competition. Definitely not a threat as well.

“Hey,” you call the girl with strawberry blonde hair. She looks back at you with a smile and stands upright, wiping the sweat trickling down her neck. You watch as she tucks her hair behind both her ears to get rid of the stray fringes. Isn’t she just hot?

“Need help?” you ask, ready to give her a hand upon seeing her singlehandedly clean the stables.

“I don’t think Captain would allow that,” Petra says before petting the said man’s horse. “Am I right, big boy?” she talks to it, combing its black mane with her slender fingers. Adorable.

“One dick of a Captain we have, don’t you think?” you say, rolling your eyes heavenwards as the image of your superior passes by your mind. “Hmm, not really. I believe his austerity is right just the way it is,” she says in full decision. Of course. The one thing you don’t like about her is the way she worships the shitty Captain like some kind of noble man.

You let out a disappointed sigh, crossing your arms. “You have got to stop being a clean freak apologist, Petra. Unless you’re inlove with him or something,” you point out and take a step towards her, taking away the broomstick from her other hand.

She’s visibly spent to the bones, tending to the horses all by herself to meet the Captain’s regulations. He only always assigns one person per duty, saying soldiers should learn how to clean alone just as much as learning how to fight, which is an utterly dumb stance in your opinion.

When she blushes by your words, a small pang hits your heart. It’s just as you guessed.

Not that it’s not so achingly obvious enough these past few years, but it’s only gotten worse ever since the new 104th recruits joined the Scout Regiment. She keeps praising the dickhead in front of them whenever they ask about him, telling them a variety of stories stretching from way back, it’s ridiculous.

“I don’t!” She really doesn’t. She just idolizes him so much that it comes across as romance. People keep rubbing to her face that she’s inlove, though it’s definitely not what she feels.

Her denial nature and easily flustered reactions keep your spirits low, almost surmising with a conclusion that you had no chance at all if not for the fact that she never made romantic advances to him her whole stay in the army.

“You do,” you avert your gaze, not wanting her to notice the brewing jealousy in your eyes, else she might avoid you or act awkward if she finds out.

“I don’t!” she presses, accidentally pulling on the horse’s crest, forcing a neigh out of it. Petra apologizes to it like it can understand her. “If that isn’t definitely guilty, I don’t know what is,” you mumble under your breath, releasing another sigh as you start sweeping the scattered hay.

Once the Captain’s horse calms down, she faces you, hands on her waist, ready to explain her feelings in fine details. “Look—“

“Who said you can slack off?” Speak of the devil. Your conversation is given a good interruption when the dark haired man arrives.

Petra immediately fixes herself, fist slamming to her chest as acknowledgment of the Captain’s presence. “We weren’t, Captain! She just wanted to help me out,” Petra clarifies right away, voice firm and booming.

You feel the infamous pair of fierce eyes dart on you, and you briefly thank anything that first comes in mind for your current position, back facing the Captain so he can’t see your disgusted scowl.

You prep yourself and turn around, giving him a half-assed salute. “I just finished with the laundry. Thought I could give her a hand,” you say, tone almost holding no formality at all, “—sir,” you lazily add.

His brows twitch as he hears you out. Brat.

“I don’t recall telling everyone to work in pairs, neither of you understood that?” he pinpoints, staring you dead in the face. You’re not intimidated, though, not one bit. If you think I’m scared, you can kiss your own ass. “I insisted. In case you didn’t notice, she’s tired,” you inform, steadiness unwavering. What is even wrong with assisting someone? This merciless prick.

“Oh?” He walks toward you in strides, easily coming face-to-face with you in a span of seconds.

“Come to my office, Petra,” he orders without looking at her, and the woman gives you one last glance, then making off after giving him a polite yes. There it is. He’s about to show his true colors, you just know it.

“Cheap way to win her over,” Levi lowly spits at you, and you can feel his hot breath ghosting harshly over your face. “If you’re so kind, do it all over again,” he orders lastly, internally entertained by how your eyes shut close in fury, grip on the broomstick tightening.

As he finally steers to leave, you swear in your life you never wanted to hit someone so damn much it’d knock them out cold.

Levi heads back, footsteps fading into the background, and an exasperated groan leaves your mouth. You frustratedly throw the broom to the floor, startling his horse, which does nothing but make your blood boil stronger in your veins. Fuck him!

—

You lie down on the hard ground, even more deadbeat than the girl you opted to help. For shit’s sake, who knew this is what you get for volunteering to be of use? You can only imagine how the new cadets would have it hard once the Captain notices their mediocre cleaning skills.

It’s probably nearing curfew, you guess from the excessive appearance of stars in the skies, but your muscles are strained stiff you can’t come inside any time now. You were left with no choice but start from scratch. If you act up and not clean up to his standards, you’ll only get it way worse, so you decided not to push him further.

You sense someone approach you, and you strongly wish it isn’t Levi. He’s the last creature you’d like to see today.

Soft and familiar amber eyes greet yours from upside down, a petite body looming over you, and you couldn’t be anymore thankful. Petra gives you a sympathetic look before sitting down beside your laid form, keeping her hands behind her back.

“I told you,” she starts, “it’d be no good if Captain sees, but you insisted and he arrived! Now look at you, you’re absolutely exhausted, aren’t you?” she continues to scold, though it doesn’t strike you as a scolding. More of a concern, yes. A smile creeps up your lips.

“Just give me the bread,” you confidently say, and she sighs in defeat before revealing the pastry she had in hand. Your heart feels giddy as you sit up straight, taking the food she went out of her way to prepare. It’s like the tiredness just disappeared into thin air. What an angel.

Petra scrunches her nose as she watches you eat in speed. You cock a brow as you see her look at you like you’re— “Do I stink?” you frantically question and smell yourself all over. No way, you’ll definitely get points off now!

She giggles bubbly and shakes her head to dismiss your assumptions. “No, but you’re biting like you haven’t eaten in ages. That famished?” she asks once she’s calmed down.

You feel heat rise to your cheeks, unsure of what to think. She’s definitely an angel, especially when she smiles. You sigh for the nth time, “Obviously. Did you see how much of a bastard our Captain is? In all honesty, I’d prefer Hange as our squad leader,” you complain and resume to munching.

“I don’t know about that,” she says, gaze boring into yours. You tear your eyes off of her and stare at the horse stalls. “What did the old geezer make you do?”

“Nothing, just a bunch of paperwork,” she says truthfully. Oh, for all you know, he just wanted her all to himself. What an unfair move, using his authority to have her alone.

You angrily bite down on the bread, later realizing you’ve finished it. As she observes you, her eyes widen, suddenly remembering something. “I forgot your water!” she exclaims and rises to her feet, but you stop her before she can leave, grabbing her soft hand.

Your chest stutters involuntarily from the contact and you compose yourself right away. “It’s alright, I’ll get it myself. Go back to your room before Captain catches you,” you urgently say, not wanting her to get in trouble again. “Just help me up,” you ask to which she generously follows. You briefly wish the moment could last longer.

“You sure?” she quizzes when you finally stand up. Both of you heading inside, you nod and hum in agreement, “Thanks for the food.”

She gives you a smile as you both reach the halls, waving you goodbye before you part ways. Ahh, you feel all energetic now.

You walk to the mess hall, footsteps light and shallow. Judging from the dimly lit corridors, it must be a few minutes away from curfew. You just hope you don’t bump into some higher-ups. Hange’s fine, though.

As you push the door open, you regret it right away. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” you mutter unintelligibly. Aside from the raven haired man, the room is dead empty, a lone candle in a chamberstick providing dull light. Technically, he is the last creature you see tonight.

You have lost count of how many sighs you’ve released the whole day, all energy in your body draining once again. Steel eyes lock on you as you enter. There’s no turning back now. Well, at least Petra isn’t the one who found him here.

Levi cocks a brow as he watches you proceed inside, seemingly heading to the water jug. You stay quiet and take a glass, then filling it with water. As much as possible, you don’t want to converse with him.

He seems like he won’t let you succeed with that. “Done with the stables?” he asks, sipping on his tea.

“Yeah,” you curtly answer, not up for some bantering.

“Some goody two shoes you are,” he scoffs, ticking you off, but you refuse to let it show. You face him and lean your back against the counter. “Like you’re any better with your assholish attitude,” you sass him out, drinking on your water all the while remaining eye contact. You’ll show him.

“And you complain like the little brat that you are,” he rebuts.

“You’re just threatened that she might go for me behind your back when I just wanted to help,” you answer with a shrug, taking a few steps closer to the table he’s seated.

“Women like you like to play dirty.”

“You don’t know a thing about women,” you snide with a condescending smile, belittling the man before you. He can’t be one to talk about women when he treats you like shit. If there’s someone Petra might end up with, you sure as heck wouldn’t want it to be this guy.

He throws you a glare, piqued by your words before standing on his feet and and walking his way to you. You stay steady, unfazed by the intimidation he’s giving off.

“After all these years, do you seriously think you stand a chance?” he deadpans, which strikes straight to your feelings. He doesn’t have to emphasize that, you already know it, memorized it even.

“I don’t know, but it’d be just as much as a loss if she chooses you,” you say, slamming the glass you’re holding onto the table. After giving him one last glare, you turn your back on him, having enough of the senseless arguments.

He hates how you only ever treat him as a Captain in the battlefield, but not when you’re at ease. You always looked at him like an arch nemesis of the sort, not afraid to answer back at him like he doesn’t deserve your respect. He stressfully closes his eyes and massages his temples as you leave.

—

You sit on the bench, just in front of the Captain, who is currently beside your beloved Petra. Look at him making his moves. You roll your eyes discreetly, sipping on your fresh tea.

“What are you, on a diet or some crap?” Levi asks, finding Petra’s plate empty, bowl of soup halfway finished.

“No, I gave it to the girl you made run laps,” she informs, “she almost passed out, you know.” Right? you wanted to agree but decide to sit still and listen.

Levi doesn’t answer, and instead puts his own loaf of bread on her vacant dish. “Eat. We have an upcoming expedition,” he only says and sips on the liquid left in his cup. Petra’s cheeks turn into a feminine shade of pink, and you so wanted to pull her away from him. She exclaims a yes and starts munching. Great, I should’ve done that first.

You’re not about to put up without a fight, though.

“Dear Captain has to eat as well, don’t you think?” you sarcastically chime in, transferring your unmoved bread onto his plate. “Can’t have him thinned to bones when the walls get breached again,” you add, innocent smile downright infuriating to Levi’s eyes.

You desperately try to keep in your barging laugh to yourself as you watch him look at his plate disgustedly.

What do you say, Petra? I’m just as kind as he is, right? That show off.

Petra hums in agreement and nudges the Captain to eat, a string of hearty giggles leaving her velvet lips, alluring about a total of three people from the same table. You heart skips a round of beats as you watch her flash her toothy grins. Talk about an appetizing view.

Her giggles boil down as realization hits her. She gives you a mixed look of confusion and thoughtfulness, opening her mouth to speak and stop you on your tracks.

“But—”

You wave her off before she can shove her worries to you and prop yourself up, momentarily stretching your limbs in relaxation to then pick up your dirtied china.

“Don’t worry, Petra, I’m already full,” confidence brimming in your tone, you tell her and take your leave. But not without giving the Captain one last glimpse. It was even more appetizing to see him pissed.

Your other comrades only watch in awe as they see the unnamed rivalry uncover ahead of their eyes, your victorious smile determining the whose triumph it is for today.

How about that?

—

When you finish with dish duty, you head to the dining area once more to check if the sconce candles are extinguished, only to find them still lit and burning, with a side of holy bastard, as you like to call him. Of all people.

“Here again? What is this, your lounge room or something?” you mockingly ask and take a seat in front of him, wiping your wet hands on your pants. He ignores you.

You purse your lips out of observation. He must be a tea addict, having another one after dinner. “Are you always here every night?” you ask again, initiating a genuine conversation.

He finally looks at you and sets his tea on the table, a bit surprised by your question. “I am,” he answers. You nod, about to ask another question but he beats you to it.

“I’m removing you from the flank,” he suddenly blurts, taking you aback. What? Your rested face visibly loses composure as your brows furrow together.

“What do you mean? Is it because I shitted on you earlier? Oh please, do you think I’ll hit on Petra while on a mission?” you continuously spurt in one go, hackles slowly raising.

“It’s not about her. Erwin specifically asked for you to join his group since you apparently answered him right,” he remarks, completely calm. You are smart, that’s already a given that he knows, it’s just that feelings can get over the best of you that he doesn’t find rational.

Your ragged breathing upon taking him the wrong way steadies as you listen. “The Commander?” you confirm and he grunts his response. “Alright then, you better watch over her in my stead.”

Levi takes a glance at you, steel grey eyes holding an unreadable expression, which you find amusing and triggers a laugh out of you. It’s like his answer should have been already staring you in the face. Naturally, he’ll do that without you ordering him.

He can be cute at times, can’t he? In a funny way of course, you inwardly clear out.

Meanwhile, he thinks you’re out of your mind as you humor yourself. He’d honestly like it if you just leave him alone right now, which you eventually did, waving him goodbye.

The night before the expedition, you pay Petra’s room a short visit.

She answers the door within three quiet knocks. “Hey,” you greet with a smile and she offers to let you in forthrightly. “No! It’s fine, I just need a few seconds,” you dismiss.

“What is it?” she curiously asks, now face to face with you as you stand in her doorway.

“I won’t be with you tomorrow, so you better take care. Stick with Gunther, or Oluo. If possible, not with the Captain,” you whisper the last bit jokingly, but she ignores it and only questions why you’re separated. You explain the situation to her, leaving out the confidential details.

Petra nods, stroking her chin. You notice she’s already in her nightwear and is probably prepared to sleep, so you decide to return to your own quarters.

“Take care, alright?” you remind, eyes boring into her borderline gold ones. They were pretty and gentle, a pair you always adored through the years.

Petra wishes you the same and then a good night, strongly wanting to unite with you safely after the mission you could feel it deep inside you.

As you look at her, you‘re certain that you haven’t met a more loving person your whole life. Will there ever come a time that you’d confess to her? Probably not. If you’re being frank, you don’t think what you feel for her is that deep a love that you’d go out of your way to initiate a romantic bond. If nothing else, it might only be admiration, an attachment at most. You like her, that goes without saying, but there isn’t any room for in depth involvement, especially not in this line of work, you think.

The door to her room finally closed, you spin to get your own shuteye, only to see a familiar figure from a little distance.

The candlelights on the halls define the highest points of the man’s face beautifully, and you identify him without a hitch, dull grey orbs meeting yours.

“Let her sleep, and get your rest,” he briefly says before making off. Your eyes slightly largen from the lack of interaction, as opposed to the reprimanding you expected. Was he supposed to say his regards to her as well?

In all fairness, he didn’t go for your neck this time. Well, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Morning comes quickly, along with the falling into formation as sketched, the deployment of operation, and the arrays of discoveries you found in the progress. Everything happened quickly, and before you know it, the expedition is given an official beat to retreat.

You stand on the same branch as the Commander, waiting for his signal to flee after fighting off the wave of titans to defend the target. Three pair of your blades are blunted down to nubs from the excessive charges, and you think for a moment if you should replace them with new ones.

Catching your breath, you wipe dry your dampened skin and clothes. You watch as he idly chat with the Captain, instructing him to refill his gases. For what? I thought it’s over?

Levi listens to what he’s told, perceivably on his guard. Why is he even here? Where are the others? When you’re just about to call Levi’s attention, Erwin catches sight of you and the confusion resounding from your aura. He then permits you to break away from his flank and reunite with your own squad, and you gladly follow.

You first help clean up with the immobilizing equipment used on the spy, telling Hange to prepare for withdrawal. She passes the message onto the other soldiers, commanding them to bestride their horses to then get going.

You still don’t know where to find your teammates, so you stick with the higher-ups a little longer.

Since you’ll travel by horse from here on, you decide not to meddle with your gears anymore. You hop on the saddle and lightly yank the reigns to start moving, and with everyone else, you ride through the woods, thousands of questions ready inside your head.

A few moments later, you hear Erwin converse with Hange regarding the spy, about how they must still be alive and how they must’ve blended in by now. You feel the tension rising as you listen to his assumptions, trying to register everything he’s trying to come across with, and it all makes sense when you hear two consecutive thundering of little intervals.

You quickly turn around and swerve, shifting your weight to guide your horse back to where the booming sound came from. It’s the alleged sound intelligent titans make when they transform, and you know push has come to shove if you hear two of them.

As far as you remember, the key weapon was situated together with your squad, you being the only one left out, so you’ll find them where Eren is. You let your horse gallop in great speed, heart thumping loudly in your chest it’s almost deafening. Please, be safe.

It feels like decades have already gone by when you arrive at the terrorizing scene of carnage.

You put your horse to an abrupt halt and jump off, cold sweat breaking without control as you stumble upon corpses and corpses you achingly recognize, the life in their eyes strenuously extracted. Gunther, Eld, Oluo… Petra.

An immense vertigo hits your head, your field of vision blurring upon seeing them drained of consciousness. You refuse to accept the view, shaking your head like a child in utmost declination. It seems you’ve only followed behind the Captain, finding him looking at the same plight.

“Levi…” you helplessly call as if seeking for refuge and saving. But it horrifies you the most when you meet his dead gaze deprived of rest, almost exactly looking like theirs, striking violently at your heart. No, not you, too…

Streams of tears shed endlessly from the corners of your eyes, and Levi doesn’t know what to do. He’s beyond pained, watching the only comrade he has left on his team slowly break down due to the shambles. He can’t afford to be frozen by the fathomless torment he’s currently trying to overcome, nor does he have the luxury to stay by your side and console you.

He has no choice but to keep moving.

“Call the others for assistance and put their bodies on a carriage,” are the last words he gives you before taking his leave, wires zipping and clutching into the surfaces of the tree barks as he skillfully maneuvers with his gear.

You think for a second, is he that used to losing people? but you completely miss out on how he slashes the giant enemy in great anger, expertly cutting flesh like he’s never done before as if it’s his only chance to momentarily pour out his emotions, all the while trying to stay objective.

Your whole body weakens and you fall to your knees, getting a closer look at the dead woman before your sight. Your hand acts on its own, stretching out to painstakingly tuck Petra’s locks behind her ear like how she always styled it. Your lips tremble as you attempt to fight your threatening sobs back.

She has slipped out from both your reaches.

Since then, you limited your interactions to those that were only really necessary, because for the first time in a while, you feel utterly alone. Years of having the sweet girl by your side all gone into the dust, along with the overwhelming loss of your whole squad, everything is weighing you down.

Flashes of memories come at the most misplaced time every now and then, and you can’t handle it when it triggers in public, causing you to lock yourself up in your room, weeping in secret.

You can’t be any more thankful to your Captain for letting you wallow in your own way of coping. Most importantly, though a small part of you still doesn’t want to admit, you’re more than grateful he stayed alive all throughout the last of the mission, coming back home with you.

You still remember the hurt in his eyes that no matter how hard he attempted to conceal, still peers out. It was visible when you had no choice but to throw the bodies out of the carriages, bringing not a single fallen soldier back. It was visible when Petra’s father asked the Captain for his daughter, even going as far as spilling his plans of arranging a marriage between the two young pair.

It’s haunting you so much, you haven’t had an hour of sleep after arriving back even if there’s an upcoming operation. Despite it being against your will, you frequently wonder how he’s doing.

One night, you find yourself walking through the halls, unable to force your mind to just shut down and rest without stressing out for the uncountable time.

You don’t know why you’re fully decisive of where to go and who to find. You don’t know why you feel calmer every step further. You don’t know why you’re so eager as you push on the wooden doors of the mess hall. You don’t know why you already expected to see him there.

“Oh, look at the old geezer drinking his tea in the dark. Do you know what time it is? It’s past curfew,” you inform sarcastically, voice also forging a front to sound normal. It’s not yet past curfew, you just want to tick him off.

“You’re only four years younger, and it’s not,” Levi answers as he lets his eyes land on yours. It’s obvious you’re only trying to clown around, the exhaustion in your face giving away your crestfallen state.

“What? How do you know that?” you ask, scandalized.

“I recognize the time.”

“I meant my age?”

“Because I am your Captain, woman. Don’t push me,” he hisses and brings his teacup into his mouth, the hot beverage staining on his tongue just the way he likes it. Even more so that it’s the only thing he can rely on at the moment. That’s what he thinks.

You scowl and sigh. Fair enough.

You take a seat in front of him and he gives you an unreadable look, as usual. Does he feel intruded? All of a sudden, you feel shy, hoping you’re not bothering him.

“What? I won’t mess with you, I’m tired,” you argue upon seeing him stare you down like something’s off with you.

Levi studies your expression, finding your face a bit similar to his in a not so positive way. With a shallow sigh, he decides to let you be and do what you want.

You prop your cheek on your elbow and maintain eye contact. “How’s your leg?” you quiz, genuinely curious of his current condition. The bastard brought home an injury as souvenir, rendering him downright useless for the plans the Scouts had right ahead.

“Not good,” he says, earning him a hum in response. The longer he lets his glance stay on yours, the more he notices the little details in the way you presented yourself.

Tonight, you spared no effort in fixing your hair, still a bit messy from the tossing and turning earlier in desperate hopes to fall asleep. Your lips were dry and chapped, he notes to call you out for it later. For all he knows, you might be dehydrated already. Your eyes? Unquestionably racked with pain.

You rest your face on top of your overlapped arms and settle to find a comfortable position.

“Go to your room if you want to sleep,” he orders, which you only ignore. Does he seriously think you’ve been able to sleep these days? Because you’re sure as heck he can’t with those dark under eyes of him. “Your neck will only get stiff in that position,” he adds.

Something about the company he generously, though not obviously, offers makes your eyelids fall shut in ease, his baritone voice helping your nerves compose themselves.

“I said I’m tired, give me a break…” you gradually lose volume as you speak, slowly drifting off without knowing.

Levi clicks his tongue when you finally succumb to drowsiness.

It’s not like he doesn’t have any options left, but he couldn’t do anything as he stays all night to watch over you. Surprisingly enough, the company felt comforting that he can’t bring himself to leave.

Couple hours later, he’s still up and reading a book when he hears a soft whimper escape your lips. Levi takes a glimpse at you and is a bit baffled to catch sight of a lone driblet trickling from your lids.

Sighing, he feels inclined to wipe it away with his thumb in sympathy and does as his subconscious says. The moment his calloused finger touches your skin, he realizes that you were undeniably warm. So much for a brat like you.

When you wake up, you feel a heavy cloth wrapped around your soldiers. You check the surroundings and remember falling asleep in the dining, later seeing that the fabric is a tan jacket, a uniform. The familiar scent enters your nostrils, and you name its owner right away.

An involuntary wave of heat rises to your cheeks and you’re uncertain why. It’s Captain Levi’s.

It makes you contemplate out of nowhere, was it wrong to treat him like a competition?

Thinking about it, you kind of regret not being casual with him. Without question, you’re not really in best terms with him, having an eye for the same person for a long time, that should be understood. He’s an outstanding soldier, that you can admit, but you can’t exactly put up with his strict ways at times, some of it coming off as irrational.

Maybe you should really just accept the fact that he’s a great Captain nevertheless. Because even though you viewed him like that all this time, he’s still being considerate in some ways.

A small smile forms on your lips. You definitely should start warming up to him. He’s the only team you’ve got left.

—

Tray in hand, you enter the Captain’s room, not bothering with a knock. To hell with that, I’ve got a handful, if he complains about his privacy or some crap, I’ll shove this damn food to his face.

Yes, you decided to bring him his lunch after the successful-fail raid in Stohess District. Honestly, you’re damn tired to the bones, but you take it upon yourself to give Levi a short visit.

He gives you an annoyed stare, obviously not expecting your company, and you only roll your eyes. “What’s that?” he asks.

“Food. What, is your old age getting to you? Need some glasses?” you talk back, not up for his dumb question.

Things aren’t going so well for the Survey Corps, political stances going against your brigade, comrades dying one by one you’re not entirely sure if their death was in vain or not. It’s only a miracle the Commander found a way to nullify the consequences about to come your way. That’s why Levi better not raise your hackles bad or your brain will completely explode in front of him.

He ignores your sardonic jest and eyes the tray, primarily looking for the tea, if you brought one. You did. But he keeps his hands to himself for a while.

“It’s too early for dinner, and I could’ve gone to get my own food.” An exasperated sigh escapes your throat, hearing his argument.

“This is your late lunch, sir,” you inform candidly, taking him by surprise. True enough, you didn’t mean to be so observant, but you saw him skip lunch earlier before the raid. Heck, this isn’t even the first time he deliberately missed it. You know he’s still unwell and at a loss just as much as you are—maybe even worse, and that’s preventing him from taking care of himself.

Of course, he’s still your Captain whom you’re willing to serve, wholeheartedly, at that. Hence, you’re going to take care of him if he’s not doing it himself, whether he likes it or not. If even this guy leaves you, then you’ll probably arrive at the end of your wits.

With an exasperated sigh, you set his meal on top of the nightstand right beside his bed. “Are you enjoying being a useless Captain?” you cross your arms and quiz, having enough of his prideful attempts for rejection.

“Tch, you know full well I’m not,” he answers and averts his glance, looking outside the window and the dimming skies.

“Then eat your food and stop complaining,” you lastly command, real bossy and assertive that he’s on the brink of cocking a brow in question.

He falls silent. You were right, he won’t get any better if he continues to mistreat himself. Besides, it’s already you who went out of your way to prepare him food, he shouldn’t just let that go to waste. Finally giving in, Levi first grabs the teacup by its mouth and takes a sip, nose immediately scrunching in repulsion upon tasting the beverage. You might be trying to poison him, after all.

“This tea is shit.”

“I said stop complaining.”

—

A whole different wave of hurdles and complications just got overcome after the wall breach alarm got deemed false, and three new intelligent titans were revealed. Seeming as though those weren’t even enough, humanity’s key weapon got kidnapped as well. Naturally, a rescue operation was deployed to action, losing a ton more soldiers in the process.

Everything is starting to become overwhelming, you’re both physically and mentally exhausted, and emotionally. Everything is beginning to feel like a pain in the neck, as if the Scout Regiment didn’t have that way from the start.

It’s actually just as you guessed. When you went outside without a full functioning team and a Captain to follow orders from, you felt lost and misplaced. The novel experience was depressing, to say the least, moving forward without the ones you’ve fought side by side with through the years.

You can’t help but find yourself looking for a familiarity, a middle ground of the sort. Feeling like a storm is building up inside you for trying to suppress your problems all by yourself.

On the low spirited trip back, you eventually realize you needed someone. And who else is there aside from him?

You ride your horse back to the walls, aching for his presence. Anything that has to do with him, you want to see and feel.

It’s almost like vexing decades have passed when you arrive and return to the headquarters. You hop off your horse, movements slow and back hunched, aura visibly despondent.

Your half lidded eyes desperately scan the fields to search for that one person, comforting satisfaction taking over your entire body as you find him standing a few meters away from your form.

Funnily enough, he was waiting for you just the same.

Levi couldn’t decipher what shitty smile you tried to give him, it was only plain pitiful in his eyes that his guts are telling him to walk over to you and give you a welcome. He didn’t have to do it, though.

Because maybe you did the first step. Maybe you took big strides or maybe you eagerly ran to his figure to feel his warmth against your body. But nothing else matters when you reach out both your trembling arms to him, now wrapped around his sturdy body, locking him in an embrace you never thought you’d feel your whole life.

You slowly descend to a sobbing mess, completely abandoning the idea of you looking like a mere crybaby in his eyes. He’ll surely bring this up some other time, but damn that. All you know is that you needed this, badly.

It’s shameful, being fully aware that you’re slowly eating your words. Whenever you think of how you put the tiny distance between you and him, you just want to slap your palm across your face. In reality, he isn’t so bad.

You want to thank him for letting you free yourself and let it all out, but your awfully shaky sobs are hindering you from doing so.

Levi senses your exhaustion, and a whole other variety of intense emotions. You’ve been keeping some burden to yourself, too. It’s amusing to him in a way that you’re both similar in a lot of things. Especially in the bad habit of bottling oneself up, assuming it’d do any better.

Deep down, he’s glad you let loose and opened your walls to him. He cares for you, after all.

As you weep against his chest, lungs stuttering and eyes turning bloodshot, Levi allows his hand to pat your back, lightly stroking it to make you calm down.

It is, indeed, wordlessly reassuring, telling you that he was there. You never imagined that of all people, he had the ability to offer the exact solace you’re looking for, just with the simple gesture.

For once, he lets it slide that you’re all bloody, sweaty, dirty, filthy—name it—when making contact with him. He just doesn’t know that needed this as well. In fact, the entire time you were away, his foot mindlessly tapped in full expectancy of your arrival, waiting with bated breath. Not like he’ll admit that.

“Don’t you dare speak,” you threaten amidst your shaky hiccups, and he almost finds it amusing how you can still manage to act so tough in front of him when you’re already breaking down against him.

He secretly heaves out a sigh, the expression of relief escaping your ears, “Brat.”

Both of you stand there underneath the twilight to dusk horizon, ignoring how some of your subordinates watch you in shock, or how you’re not halfway the trouble yet, still utterly clueless of what lies ahead. Because right now, you were still together. You had each other, someone to lean on in this wretched mess.

Without the two of you knowing precisely why, both your hearts feel a tad bit alive.

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acid-hydrangea · 3 years

Text

Three Years in Heaven

A few small glimpses at the winding, unending days of a certain boy.

(Includes post-story spoilers for both TWEWY games in their entireties, as this takes place between both periods.)

(AO3 Crosspost)

Night 1

It's dark.

So dark, he can hardly see his own hand in front of him.

He feels something.

Not by touch, no.

Someone silent

Yet that presence, their aura

It's so familiar,

It speaks one thousand words,

Nondescript, vague and cluttered,

Looping, repeating, silently, yet loudly,

Except for a few that ring out,

"How was your first Day back in the Underground, Neku?"

"... Josh?!"

Neku’s first cry, it's full of relief, shock, words caught in his throat finally let out of the cage in his throat,

"Josh... You..."

His voice rises, he clenches his fist, he's finally back on his two feet,

"Where the hell am I?! Why am I back in the UG again?! Did you..."

Neku crumbles, just a bit, hand over his chest, where his non-beating heart is,

"For the third time..."

"Did I kill you? Well, isn't that the question of the decade."

Neku yells once more, wishing for nothing more than to be heard, and for once, to have his questions answered,

"Don't fucking screw with me! Just give me an answer...!"

He seriously feels like he's at his last straw. Joshua's unconcerned nonchalance was going to be the death of him.

"... What a way to thank your savior." Joshua pouts. "That twisted Reaper had excruciating plans for you, you know."

"... Huh? That Reaper... Coco? What about her?"

"She killed you, sought to drag you to the Underground once more, to..."

Joshua held his arms out, gesturing to the absolute nothingness that surrounded them,

"Save the lost city of Shinjuku."

Neku doesn't even have time to process the fact that Coco killed him. It's not information he wanted to digest, right now.

"This is... Shinjuku? What the hell happened??"

"An Inversion." Joshua states, rather matter-of-factly.

Neku stutters, thoroughly confused. "A what, now...?"

"It's when the RG and UG collapse into each other, and cease to function entirely." Joshua sighs, twirling his hair curl between his fingers. "Much like if you were being choked. Your throat closes up, and you'd stop breathing. If prolonged, you could pass out, or die. It's like that, Neku."

Neku instinctively backed away, holding his hands over his neck, as if fearing Joshua would try to demonstrate.

It didn't help that Joshua was wearing the smallest of twisted smirks during the latter half of his explanation.

Perhaps Joshua just enjoys morbid discussions. That's none of Neku's business.

Joshua rolls his eyes, as if put off by how scared Neku is.

"... You should feel grateful I saved you, for the record. The job I have in store for you is a lot less painful."

Neku was still on the defensive. "...Oh, yeah? And what would that be?"

"To discover the very reason why an Inversion took place here."

"...You wanna tell me more, Private Dick Extraordinaire?"

"If I had more to say, I would have told you."

"I don't buy it."

"Well, isn't that a shame... Because you can't leave until you've figured it out."

If Neku addresses that, he knows he won't get meaningful answers. He doesn't even know if Joshua will stick around for long. He chooses his words carefully...

"I've seen what's left of Shinjuku. There's nothing here. How do you expect me to find any--"

"Make it work, Neku. We haven't got all day. How about you try to listen more closely?"

And just like that, the second Day begins.

Neku decides it's another day of endless wandering, once more, trying to listen to the absolute silence that he now knows is Shinjuku, Post-Inversion.

Night 7

It's been a whole week. 7 Days.

Joshua has yet to make another appearance, ever since that first Night.

Very little has changed, but Neku's grown a bit smarter. Learned a little more. Opening his mind to Shinjuku, bit by bit.

As his eyes close and the current Day ends, he has a familiar feeling he knows who to expect.

Joshua slowly claps, "I must say, you've really outdone yourself, Neku."

"Put a sock in it..." Neku crosses his arms. "I've barely picked up on anything."

"Care to share your discoveries with your beloved Partner?"

"What, you can't look around yourself?"

"I cannot so freely come and go from Shibuya like you, Neku." The look in Joshua's eyes turns a bit serious. "Even I have my harrowing responsibilities."

"... Is something happening in Shibuya?"

"Nothing for you to worry yourself over."

"Is something happening in Shibuya, or not?!" Neku steps towards him, three seconds away from grabbing the collar of his shirt, "Just because I'm not there doesn't mean I can't worry." There's a mix of anger and concern in Neku's tired eyes.

"How about an exchange of information, then?" Joshua twirls his pointed finger at Neku, pushing him out of his personal bubble. "Starting with that briefing you keep putting off."

"... Fine." Neku rubs the back of his head. "Like I said, it's barely anything... But I don't think the people of Shinjuku knew it was coming. It was like it surprised them all at once."

Joshua tilts his head. "... And?"

"That's it. I told you it wasn't much..." Neku reiterates, sincerely hoping Joshua doesn’t ask him for something he doesn’t have.

"No, I think..." Joshua rubs his chin, pondering. "That's enough, for now."

"Tell me about Shibuya, then. What's happening?"

"A handful of Shinjuku Reapers are taking refuge there. Our current Game Master has decided to allow them that mercy."

"... You seem bothered by the fact."

"My, my, you're getting much better at reading people, too." Joshua shoots him his trademark grin. "I have my suspicions that they partook in enacting their own city's downfall."

"Huh...?" Neku's bewilderment was apparent on his face. "Why would they want to tear down their own city?"

"Like I said, it's just a thought. How could it be that they are the only survivors, after all?"

Neku, too, began pondering this... Not that he really knew, though. This is Joshua he's talking to. Those Shinjuku Reapers could be totally innocent, and Neku wouldn't know,

“You’re the Composer, aren’t you? Why not kick them out if they pose a threat?” Despite his own thoughts, Neku figured Joshua would’ve taken more precaution--

“It’d be dangerous to let them out of my sight if they are responsible.”

Frankly, Neku had no argument against that. Joshua was right. Even so...

Neku's voice goes a bit quiet. "... Maybe something else caused the Inversion, though..."

"Hm, you think so?" Joshua snaps his fingers. "Go on, uncover more proof to back that theory up, then."

Neku's eyes shot open to the same, dreary sights as always.

It's sudden, but the eighth Day has begun.

Night 8

Neku had a very rare, very special, very horrific encounter against Noise.

He wasn't exactly prepared for a fight, but...

He had a few Pins on hand, luckily, it was enough to take it out.

He was surprised his psyches work as well as they do, given he's on his own. That's the least of his concerns right now, though.

Larger than most, it took all the longer to take down. Its attacks were also far more brutal, leaving every cut burning. After the Noise was felled, Neku felt revitalized,

but no, none of those were the concerning parts to be dealt with.

It almost felt like it was an amalgamation of human Soul and Noise matter that he was fighting.

Their thoughts were loud, so, so loud, forming words, sentences, phrases.

The cries, shouts, and whimpers it exuded all sounded incredibly human.

"No, don't hurt me! I mean no harm!"

"Go away! Get away from me!"

"What did I ever do to you...?"

"What... Where am I... What's happening?!"

"It hurts, it hurts!! Mama!!!"

"What are you doing to him?!"

Yet, they wouldn't stop.

They kept trying to hurt him.

Neku wasn't about to lay his life down, but...

He felt damn close to it.

The revitalizing energy that enveloped him after their defeat, it felt bittersweet.

He falls to his knees, collapsed, exhausted.

There are thoughts lingering, from all that it used to be. They sit there, as if waiting,

But Neku can't muster the will to do anything, right now.

His eyes shut on their own, refusing to perceive himself, or anything around him.

Neku wanted nothing more than to disappear, just like them.

The eighth Day is over.

Joshua looks forward, at the wisps of what once was a catastrophic bundle of Noise,

"Quite the curious entity that was, mm?"

Neku has no words. Nothing to say, to think, to... be.

The vacant, scared expression on his face... Joshua found it interesting, to say the least.

"...You okay, Neku?" Joshua tilts his head, as a few sparks of concern come through his usually sardonic demeanor.

Neku can barely get the words out, but he tries, "No... I'm not, actually." He's on the cusp of tears.

His voice could barely be heard by normal ears, but it's fine, because Joshua can hear him.

He always can.

"... Those thoughts aren't going anywhere," Joshua's tone has turned considerably sympathetic, far more gentle, possibly even genuine, "Let's just wait for a bit."

Joshua sits beside him, now.

Gently placing his hand on Neku's, he can feel it shaking, as it's clenched tight.

Neku feels the strange silence is comforting, simply because Joshua is here.

Neku, deep down, wanted nothing more than the company of someone else.

Especially right now.

Even if it was Joshua’s...

No, not ‘even’... He found comfort in Joshua’s knowing tone, and even in his kind gestures...

No matter how foreign it all was to Neku.

He didn’t feel like questioning it, right now. Joshua was the only other person here, the only one he could talk to.

Neku doesn’t want to take that for granted.

Neku tries to speak, once more, as tears blur his eyes, which he dared to open once more, too weak to look ahead, he stares at the ground below him,

at Joshua's hand, still tenderly holding his own.

"...Josh... Did I...", Neku gulps, trying to release the words tangled in his throat, "Kill those people...?"

"No, you didn't. They were already gone. You gave them mercy, if anything," Joshua brushes his thumb over Neku's hand, speaking calmly. "They can pass on peacefully, now."

"... You mean it...?"

"I do. They even left us their thoughts, it's something that can help us."

"... It can help us...?"

"Of course, Neku," Joshua gently brushes his shoulder against his, "Try to look forward, try to look at them."

As hesitant as he is, he trusts Joshua.

Joshua would take a chance like this to screw with him,

but he figured Joshua still has things for him to do.

And Neku knows he himself can't leave until he's done what he has to.

Whatever ulterior purpose Joshua has, refusing to listen to him would make things drag on.

He wasn't in the mood to deal with Joshua's ire.

... And who knows? Maybe Joshua actually was concerned.

Only if because Joshua wasn't his assailant, this time.

Neku looks forward.

There's naught but glowing wisps, a condensation of people's thoughts lingering in the air.

It almost seemed as though they were waiting.

"Try to read them, Neku." Joshua prompts him. "Read their thoughts, just like you've done before."

Joshua gently lifts his hand from Neku's, from which Neku tries to muster the energy to lift his arm... To try to understand the words waiting for him.

Neku feels weak, he hisses silently from a cut on his arm. It wasn't only because of the battle, no, but he hadn't noticed how tired he'd grown over the past week.

It's not like he was loitering around. He was trying his damndest to figure more information out, and find a way out of Shinjuku.

That last battle really cemented his exhaustion in--

Taking notice, Joshua helps, gently lifting Neku's arm up properly. He takes care to not worsen his injuries,

"There, just like that. Go on, Neku."

And so, Neku does.

Realigning himself with the thoughts before him...

He focuses...

He hears them.

"The pain, it's... Gone..."

"... It's okay now, right?"

"What was I doing before this...? Hmm..."

"That man, wearing a butterfly..."

"He looked vengeful, didn't he?"

"Mama, was there something wrong with him?"

Some of them pay Neku no head, some soon extend a silent thanks his way.

They don't speak to him, but he feels it, just before they all fade away.

A vague sense of gratitude.

Joshua lets go of Neku's arm, and Neku stands back on his own two feet, as does Joshua.

"I'd say that was worth it, no?" Joshua's snide tone returns.

Neku kicks at the ground, "... That battle sucked ass."

"You won though, didn't you?" Joshua winks.

Neku crosses his arms, "So what if I did..." Suddenly, Neku wonders, and his wounded arm falls to his side, being clutched by the other.

That battle... Still did a number on him, physically. It was difficult on all ends.

A concerned expression forms on Neku's face, "...Hey, I won't have to do that again, will I?"

"I can't say. You should prepare yourself for the worst, anyways." There's something different about the way he says that, Neku can't recognize Joshua's tone, but he rolls with it.

Neku is silent, his eyes pointed in Joshua's direction. He has better questions to ask.

"... Why are you here, anyways?"

"Why? Because I'm your Partner, Neku."

"Not what I meant. You're Shibuya's Composer. I didn't think you could do anything outside those boundaries."

Joshua chuckles, hand to hip, "You clearly underestimate my capabilities."

Neku rolls his eyes, "You were the one who said you can't come here yourself. Did you find some loophole?"

Joshua continues, this rare generous mood of his leading him to continue entertaining Neku with answers. "Oh, Neku... Neku, Neku, Neku... You are my loophole."

Neku realizes just how messed up his role as a messenger has become. He tried not to think about it before, because what could he do about it? Regardless, it still bothers him.

Neku sighs, "... You don't plan on letting me take a break, do you?"

Then, Joshua says something, that frankly, Neku didn't expect at all,

"Not my jurisdiction, that's all on you, Neku."

Neku's head is now fully turned towards Joshua, only to be met with his eyes staring back at him.

Neku tilts his head, curious, yet suspicious, "Is it, now?"

Joshua states, rather matter of factly, "You have a lot to learn before you can further deepen your understanding of what happened here."

Joshua grins with his eyes, yet his mischievous demeanor returns.

"By all means, take your time, Partner."

Neku opens his eyes.

It is now Day 9.

He's decided his fate is indeed in his own hands, and no one else's.

Neku spends the day trying to find peace of mind.

Night 21

“You don’t look too hot, Partner. Miss me that much?” Joshua asks.

Neku is silent, a strained expression on his face, eyes shut tight. Unresponsive.

It was like Neku barely heard him.

Joshua groans, wanting some kind of response from Neku. "If I didn't know better, I'd have assumed you went back on all of your changes, as a person. Are you back to hating everyone, Neku?"

Neither Neku nor Joshua look very well for wear, it’s been about two weeks since they last met. They've both been busy.

Neku’s sitting, hands pressed hard to his headphones, as if trying to listen to them like they’re broken conch shells.

Joshua sighs. “... Did you even realize the Day’s ended, Neku?”

Neku opens one eye, sulks, “I’m... Trying to find something...”, before shutting it, again.

Joshua tilts his head, “Would you mind enlightening me on what that is?”

Neku’s voice is quieter than usual, “... Their thoughts became muffled.” as if not wanting to speak over the City’s whispers.

“Hm... Isn’t that quite the predicament.”

Joshua sits in front of Neku, studying his face.

Looking from multiple angles, he notices Neku’s eyebags, seeing that sleep deprivation has set in, despite the mandated time that Days are supposed to end.

Maybe it was just his imagination, but Neku seemed a bit thinner, too. His arms, legs...

He’s definitely run into more Noise battles in the past two weeks, as well. Likely caught off guard for a good handful of them.

Wounds Neku poorly tried to hide and mend were incredibly obvious. A single healing Pin that needs time to reboot can only do so much.

Joshua has a lot on his mind, right now. A lot of priorities.

The Neku before him reminded him strongly of that.

“Maybe I can help. Take your hands off of those precious headphones of yours, Neku.”

Hesitant, yet stuck with no other answers, Neku complies.

“Guess it’s worth a shot, whatever you... Hey, wait--!”

Joshua swiftly robs Neku of his Headphones.

“There. Try it, now.” Joshua grins slightly, patting Neku’s headphones, as if reassuring him of their safety in his hands.

Grumbling, Neku thinks, ‘There’s no way it’s that easy...’

He tries to focus his mind once more, hands hovering over his ears, where his headphones used to be.

... He begins to hear things he once couldn’t.

His strained expression ebbs away slowly.

Joshua looks on, a silent giggle passes his lips.

Watching Neku’s expression relax, as he listens clearly to new thoughts floating in the air...

It made Joshua feel a fleeting sense of happiness, as he too felt rather worn-out.

Lowering his hands, opening his eyes, the exhaustion in his eyes faded out, even if just a little.

Neku whispers, quietly, “... Thanks, Josh.”

“Really, you were helpless without me, Neku...” Joshua jests, yet there's a hint of melancholy to his words, “You’re welcome, though.”

Joshua gives Neku his headphones back, placing them around his neck, then helps him back up on his feet.

“Try using that sixth sense of yours more, Neku.” Joshua's eyes fall to the side, “‘I’ve been quite busy lately.”

“Right... How’s Shibuya been?”, Neku asks... A slew of concerns rise up on his mind’s list of priorities.

Joshua crosses his arms, “Depends. Do you have anything new to report?”

Neku tries to think carefully about how to say this... He sighs, and decides to just be honest.

'... No. Not yet...”

Directing his eyes back to Neku, Joshua gives him a hard stare, for a few moments...

Joshua decides he’s had enough, for now, “... Since you seem to be having a hard time, I’ll forgive you this time, Partner.”

Neku releases a breath he held in anticipation, “Oh, cry me a river, why don’t you...”, He figured Joshua would stop being cooperative eventually, he’s just surprised it hasn’t happened yet.

Twirling his hair curl around his finger, Joshua continues, “In any case, the Shinjuku Reapers have basically taken over Shibuya’s Reaper Games,"Joshua tuts, rubbing the hair between his fingers casually, "The previous Game Master was unable to stop them.”

... Neku tries to not think about how that probably wouldn’t have happened if he didn’t off the previous Conductor.

Well, the Shibuya he knows and so dearly loves would be no more, but still... Part of his mind thinks, ‘at least there would have been one’...

Judging by Joshua mentioning only the Game Master... Did he even hire another Conductor, yet...?

... Neku didn’t feel like risking getting on Joshua’s bad side. Not to the extent that asking would bring about, anyways.

After a long pause, Neku replies. “... You say that like it’s not a huge deal.”

He knows better than to worry himself sick over things he can't control. If Joshua doesn't seem worried, chances are it's fine.

Joshua runs his hand through his hair, other hand in pocket, “Hah. Hard to say, really. If I’m being honest?” There's a slightly vicious look in Joshua’s eyes. “I’m kind of excited to see where they take it.”

... Neku takes it back. He forgot Joshua fakes his emotions for a living.

Neku crosses his arms, “Sounds like you’re lying through your teeth, Josh.”

Joshua realizes that he’s not the best at keeping up his facade when he himself is exhausted.

That, or Neku’s just gotten to know him that well. Joshua's little tics, stims, fidgets...

He kind of hates it, but he also kind of loves it. That wasn’t Neku’s business, though.

Joshua replies, brushing the hair out of his eyes, “It’s fine,” he rolls his eyes. “They’re not doing anything blasphemous, in any case.”

The silence is thoroughly awkward, between the two. It’s a wonder that the next Day hasn’t begun yet.

Joshua is just waiting, while Neku has other things on his mind...

Neku sighs, “... I get that you’re basically a God, and everything, but are you taking care of yourself?”

Joshua gives him an irritated look, “What, worried I can’t handle a bit of pressure from the opposition? You wound me, Neku.”

“Geez, is it wrong to be worried about my Partner?” Neku mumbles, rubbing the back of his head, “You just look... Tired.”

The more he cared, the more Joshua took offense to it, “You’re practically bleeding at every cut. You really have no place to be speaking to me like that.”

“Sorry, I haven’t exactly had time to rest,” Neku scoffs.

“That makes the both of us, then.”

“Guess it does.”

The two stare at each other for some time, arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed.

...

Neku sighs, letting go of the tension in his shoulders,

“Josh, I think we’re both tired as hell of all of this.”

Joshua tilts his head, unconvinced, “Your point being?”

“We need a long-term game plan.”

“You think I don’t have my own?”

“If you do have one, feel free to let me in on it.” Neku stands his ground. ”Just telling me to relay information to you isn’t exactly what I’d call a good plan.”

Day ???

"Well, well, if it isn't my splendiferous wonderful old friend, Nekkykins!"

"Hey, Coco."

Neku was given a brief explanation on what was going to happen, some time ago. He would return to Shibuya with the assistance of the Harrier Reaper Coco Atarashi, which included assisting her with something else, afterwards.

‘... And you’re telling me I have to wait a whole month before she gets here?’

‘That’s the deal, Partner. Don’t worry, it’ll all pay off in the end.... You trust me, don’t you?’

Said assistance would likely lead to more information about the Shinjuku Inversion being uncovered, as she has close ties with someone who was investigating, as well... That person in particular was in need of help.

"Since I’m here to pick you up, we should get going soon! Althooough... I also have something else for you!"

... Neku knew better than to let personal feelings get in the way, at this point, but he couldn’t help but feel somewhat bothered... Even so.

It's too much trouble to hold a grudge against someone for taking your life.

Even if it was isolating, horrifying, and downright made him feel like he didn't exist... For three, long, years...

It was fine. It ended up being for the greater good--

Coco cheered, “Here are some fresh new clothes for you!"

Neku’s response was delayed, as he’s deep in thought. "Huh...? Thanks, I guess."

"C'mon, c'mon, try it on, at least!" Coco prompts him, putting them in his hands. "Those old clothes must be so dingy and tight, by now!!"

"Alright, I get it... Give me a second."

It doesn't take too long for Neku to change, once he's found a place to do so.

Somehow, his old clothes never did shrink, if any part of his wardrobe did stay the same size through the years, it would probably be his old headphones and music player.

He was no longer in possession of either, though.

... The new clothes were pretty comfortable. Fits his style, too.

Coco claps her hands, "You look suuuper cute! Plaid really suits you, y'know!"

"Uh... Thanks.” Neku rubs the back of his head, somewhat bashfully. “Can we get to Shibuya, then?"

"Yes, yes! Buuut, before that... We should arrange for a place to meet up after you get there. It'll be alot easier to explain things!"

“I’ll be helping your friend out, right? Then she can tell us more about the Inversion that took place here.”

Coco nods. “Super-duper Splendiferous! You already know what you need to do!”

"Works for me. How about we meet up at Cat Street... Wildkat work for you?"

"Oh, you mean where it used to be?” Coco takes Neku by the arm. “Sure thing! Let's gooo!"

Not being given the time to process the implications of 'where it used to be', the two are already off to the races.

Things seem... Different, as Coco's dragging him along. He's not sure, but... Somehow, the inverted city of Shinjuku didn't seem as small or cramped, as the two approach it's border.

He didn’t even know there was a border, but if he guessed anyone would know about it, it would be a Reaper of Coco’s caliber... And not someone like himself.

While they're running at a brisk pace, Coco realizes something, and slows her pace. Letting go of Neku's wrist, she turns to him. Guilt apparent in her puppy-eyes, she bows before him,

"By the way... I'm ever so sorry for what I did three years ago!! I'm a whole new person now, I promise you!!!"

Neku can't shake the feeling that he can't trust or forgive Coco, no matter how close she thinks she is with him, and even if he's determined to help her friend.

It doesn't mean he can't try, at least. Neku gave the guy who killed him twice multiple chances to make it up to him, why wouldn't he do the same here?

... And for one thing, she actually apologized.

"... It's alright. That reminds me, though..."

"Oh? Do tell."

... It was fine to ask, wasn’t it? There was still one thing he was dying to know, for as long as he’s been dead.

"Why did you kill me, anyways, Coco?"

There's a vacant expression resting on his face, as he asks.

Any frustrations, tears, any sense of despair for his own death... It left him a long time ago.

He had the feeling death meant very, very little to Coco. Surely, it was just a small question to her.

"Ahh, about that... The truth is..."

Coco fiddled her thumbs, guilt written all over her face,

"IwantedyouandMisterMini-MotototeamupandsaveShinjukutogetherbutthenitwastoolate..!!!"

Coco takes a deep breath, having confessed in one fell swoop.

... It took Neku a second to process that.

Well. It was what it was.

"It's alright. Let by-gones be by-gones, and all that, I was just--"

Suddenly, a headache crashes through Neku's head,

"G-gh..." He clutches his head, staggering.

Coco exclaims, "Are you alright, Nekkykins?!"

It's another Vision. A Future Vision.

“Beat, are you okay?!”

“Don’t stop-- Keep goin’! I’mma stay here and keep him at bay.”

That's... It's Beat's voice.

“P-p-preposterous!”

“I can’t give y’all a speed boost right now... So I gotta slow him down instead. Ya feel?”

Something’s hurting him, someone’s hurting Beat--

“What’re ya waitin’ for? Go!”

“And leave you behind?!”

“I’m tryna buy y’all some time here, yo!”

“And what happens when you run out of time?!”

“We’ll see.”

What is he doing... What is Beat doing?!

“No, we won’t!”

“There’s no way we’re letting you face him all by yourself! You’re gonna get erased!”

Who?! Who are they facing--

... Erasure...?

“What-- you don’t think I can handle ‘im?”

“No, I don’t!!”

“Defeat is inevitable.”

“Y’all cold, yo!”

“And you’re hurt, Worms-For-Brains!!”

"Either we all escape together... Or we all fight together!"

Beat, you have to listen, BEAT--

"Look-- I’mma need you to chill for a sec. We all stay and fight, we all get erased."

“... B... Beat...? What are you doing...?”

Coco’s saying something, but Neku can’t hear her. He can’t hear anything except for--

"Ain’t nobody gonna be left to save Shibuya... I’ll catch up with you later, but for now, y’all gotta go.”

Is he... Is Beat planning to sacrifice himself...?

“Sorry, pal... Can’t let ya through.”

“Beat!!!”

That younger boy called out in fear, clutching a Pin desperately, a weakened Beat is holding back a rampaging Leo Cantus, there's no chance he’ll last long--

Before Neku even realized it, every second that Future Vision amped up, his legs were running for the Barrier of Shinjuku,

The vision ebbs away, but everything in it is burned into his mind,

‘He looks so different--'

any exhaustion Neku might have had was completely gone,

'He looks how I used to look, even with his own headphones--'

replaced with the urgent need to save one of his closest friends.

'He's throwing his life away to protect the others, the other Players in the visions I've been getting for the past three weeks--'

Neku's thoughts are burning inside his head, as the Vision keeps replaying in his head, he feels like he's about to combust,

‘Hang in there, Beat, hang in there!’

He doesn't even realize he's completely left Coco behind, but

There are tears streaming down Neku’s face,

his breathing's turned erratic,

his non-beating heart is beating, loudly in his chest,

Neku needs to get back to Shibuya,

Neku needs to save Beat,

Right now,

Before it's too late.

Before it's too late...

BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE--

#joshua #twewy #ntwewy #the world ends with you #neo: the world ends with you #yoshiya kiryu #sakuraba neku #coco atarashi #neo twewy spoilers #twewy spoilers

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greycappedjester · 3 years

Note

If it’s ok, could we get a small clip of the next chapter?

Sure!....which story?

Um, here’s one for all of them. It’s long (very, very long) so I’m putting it under “Read More”

(All story segments are not fully edited and may change)

Tooru Oikawa and the Triwizard Tournament

Yamaguchi squinted towards the other side of the Great Hall. “So have they….made up now?”

A few tables down, Kageyama and Hinata seemed to be in the middle of a very loud and very spirited argument on whether condiments could ever count as side dishes. Grievous insults to intelligence had been made and threats of murder were likewise issued.

“I think so.” Ennoshita didn’t sound confident.

Hinata attempted to tackle Kageyama off of his bench.

“But, they’re still not playing together for Quidditch,” Yamaguchi confirmed

Kageyama shoved an apple in Hinata’s face.

Asahi watched wide-eyed. “They said they couldn’t yet.”

A resulting debate over the term 'breakfast fruit’ emerged. It was somehow even more heated.

“But, they’re not fighting?” Yamaguchi had to confirm.

“Suga says they aren’t,” Daichi said.

They had now decided to share the apple. Yachi beamed from beside them. Lev booed.

Yamaguchi decided there and then. “I’m never going to understand their relationship.”

“They’re idiots,’ Tsukishima concluded.

And, thus, the most watched and highly contentious fight of the entire school year--Tournament included--finally came to its baffling end.

--------

After the Fall of Olympus

(Sorry, it’s a depressing one--partly because I can’t take out much from the chapter without giving away a really major spoiler that’s revealed in the first scene)

Dick and Donna have this thing they do.

It started maybe three years after the invasion, before Kory’s ship landed, and when everything was still raw but finally slowly trying to get better.

They’d been in the tower alone, both on monitor duty, when Donna had turned to him and out of the blue asked, “Dick, tell me about Wally West?”

“What,” Dick had asked, too surprised even to feel the pain that sharply.

“You and Roy mention him every now and then. He was your best friend, right? I want to know more about him.”

Dick had just stared. Stared until Donna had admitted in a too quiet voice. “I’m tired of not being able to talk about them.”

So Dick had talked. At the start, it wasn’t even about anything important. Just about what a huge chemistry nerd Wally was. How he flirted with girls non-stop. The time he’d tried to phase through a wall and got half way through before panicking. And then, slowly, Dick moved on to important things. When Dick first told him his secret identity. How Wally had wanted to grow up to be just like his uncle. What Dick had felt when he saw his body.

Donna talked, too. About her sister. About growing up with Diana, about the numb shock watching her death on the news, about wondering if her sister would be proud of her and the a million and one times she was scared of living up to the reputation.

It became a routine. Not every day. Not even every few months. But, now and again, one of them would seek the other out and Donna would talk about Diana or some of her other Amazonian teachers lost in the invasion and Dick would talk about Wally and M’gann and Artemis and Connor and Kaldur and….and Bruce. One time, Dick even talked about Superman.

They talked and the pain didn’t go away--not fully, not ever--but eased until they felt like they could breathe again, until they could remember a past that was colored by more than just the pain of their deaths.

-------

Walking With My Eyes Open

Gen wasn’t a kind man; he was pragmatic. And he’d long decided he’d do absolutely anything, sink to any kind of low, be however ruthless he needed if it meant saving Senkuu’s life.

So….

Decisions, decisions.

He shredded a petal under his nails and tossed it down.

“Gen?” A blonde head popped up beside him. “What are you doing?”

He smiled, making sure it was a soft one despite his mood. Because he absolutely believed in playing favorites and when it came to the village--to his entire life, actually--it wasn’t hard to guess the people that rested on top.

Suika smiled back, a glimpse of bright blue eyes shining through the shadows of her mask. Then, she tilted her head and lowered her voice. “Are you hiding from work?”

Gen laughed, pressing a finger to his lips. “Maybe a bit. Don’t tell on me, okay?” He winked. “Besides, I was considering some options. Thinking counts as work, too, doesn’t it?”

Suika nodded, glancing down at the growing pile of mangled petals then to the daisy Gen was still steadily demolishing. “And the flowers are helping you think?”

Actually, Gen had just been feeling murderous towards flowers lately. Call it enacting justice vicariously.

“Not particularly.” He picked up another flower from beside him and instead of shredding it, started to fold. “You’re right. I think there’s a better use for these.”

A few more quick movements and he wove a flower bracelet, just small enough to slip over Suika’s wrist.

Her grin brightened, looking at it like it was the next great marvel--so, at least Gen had accomplished one thing today.

“It’s so pretty,” Suika said, looking up to see it closer. “And the flowers are so close together. Can you teach me?”

“Sure, once we get some more flowers.” He picked up the last one, winding his fingers around the stem. “You know, now that you mention it. There is an old game about flowers and decisions. Want to hear it?”

Suika sat patiently in front of him, eyes fixed on the daisy because of course, she wanted to learn. What other village could this be?

“It’s very simple.” Gen counted off with one hand, flower in the other. “Two phrases, you pick a petal on each and the one you land on is your answer.” Gen picked a petal. “He loves me.” Another petal. “He loves me not….”

Suika gave a small gasp. “Flowers can tell you if someone’s in love?”

Gen didn’t laugh because he knew it would be bitter.

“No,” he said quietly. “It’s just a game. Back before--ah, before even me and Senkuu, that is--ladies would play it to see if their beloved would ever return their affections. It’s silly.”

“So…,” Suika thought a bit, “it’s like a wish, then?”

“I think I’m using it more as a hex,” Gen muttered as he got to the last petal and glared.

He loves me.

Well, fuck.

Gen supposed that’s what he deserved for trusting flowers.

He gave his largest, most theatrical sigh for Suika’s sake. “Ahhh, Suika-chan, look at that! It seems like I lost. More’s the pity for me!”

Suika grinned up at him, hopping to her feet and wrapping her arms around his hips. “It’s okay! I still love you.”

Gen patted her head, smiling despite himself.

“Maybe you were using the wrong flower,” Suika told him.

“Could be.”

“I’ll go get more,” Suika promised. “Then, you can find one that’ll work.”

“More flowers is a good idea,” Gen agreed. “But, I think I’m tired of this game. Why don’t I teach you how to make the best flower crowns in the entire stone world? Then, we’ll both have to be the most beloved people in the whole village, won’t we?”

Immediately, Suika ran off to the woods and Gen watched her go.

At least, flowers could do good somewhere.

He looked down at the mangled flowers. A daisy, purity and innocence.

With a shift of his heel, he ground them a little further into the ground..

Flowers were an awfully pointless thing to blame; but, Gen was petty and they were easier than the alternative.

Still. He taught Suika how to make flower crowns and when she pressed one last bloom into his hand, so excited to find the last one of the season, he took it like his heart hadn’t plunged to his feet.

It was hard to look at black nightshade and forget it was a poison.

-------

Call Me Your Home At Night

(Note: very, very subject to edit. Part of the reason this one has taken awhile is rewrites while I work on tone)

Atsumu was shouting--voice tinny over the phone speakers--and Hinata’s blender was doing its best impressions of death throes while Hinata frantically tried to keep both the chord at the one angle it worked and hold the blender’s lid down so the entire kitchen didn’t end up coated in a weird grey mix of protein shake and bananas. Again. For the fifth time.

In other words, it was a normal morning.

From the part of his mind that noticed these things, Hinata thought it was kinda funny that Atsumu had learned to time his complaining to coordinate with the aggressive disaster that was Hinata’s morning routine.

Like the world’s weirdest symphony, the opposite of harmonizing. A disharmony! That was it!

“Seriously, what the fuck is a ward court and how is it different than a family court? Why do we even need two courts for divorce? Huh? Why not just shove a paper at us and have it done!” Atsumu’s voice got increasingly petulant. “Shouyou, it’s like the entire country is trying to keep good, decent people married! Why does it hate us?”

It was a close call; but, in a competition between one aggravated setter on speaker phone and the relentless whirring of the cheapest blender Hinata could find on the internet, Atsumu still managed to fight his way through.

Hinata gave the phone a sympathetic look even if he knew Atsumu couldn’t see it. He turned off the defeated foe and mentally crowned Atsumu the winner of Disharmony 2016: Blender vs. Atsumu edition. Not that he had much doubt.

“Find anything you like with grounds for divorce?”

Atsumu grumbled which meant no.

Then, Atsumu huffed which meant no and the world wasn’t fair!

So, apparently, divorce was harder than it looked. Actually, a lot of things about this “being married” thing were more complicated than they thought and, in the month since they’d been technically married, Hinata had frequently and strongly fantasized about grabbing his past self by the shoulders and shaking him while screaming ‘WHY?!’ right at his face.

Like taxes!

Who knew how to do taxes? Who knew that taxes were apparently due this month? Including married people taxes which apparently were more complicated and had things like joint filing or separate and dependants and a bunch of other words that Hinata still didn’t understand completely. It wasn’t like he could ask his Mom for help after everything or even beg Yachi or Kenma like usual because that would bring up the whole marriage thing and, ugh, no, no, no, no.

Hinata was pretty sure he and Atsumu had figured it out. Enough, at least. Getting arrested for tax evasion seemed like something that only happened on the news so it was probably fine.

Uh, so, yeah, between the whole moving to Brazil thing and figuring out stuff like rent and utilities and meeting the indoor volleyball team he’d be working with plus some of the beach volleyball players and trying to get his new roommate Pedro to talk to him about things other than laundry and groceries and trying to remember the difference between bolo and bola and finding a job and Atsumu dealing with MSBY promotion stuff and interviews and getting ready for pro-volleyball next season and then them both having to deal with stuff like taxes and still being weirded out about all the accidental wedding stuff in general, they…..well, they hadn’t gotten much done about the whole divorce thing.

Okay, more like they’d gotten exactly one thing done and that was figuring out a time to freak out about all the things they hadn’t gotten done. The good news was that the exactly twelve hour time difference was sorta perfect since it meant Hinata got back from his morning jog about the same time Atsumu came home for dinner, which meant that quickly became their agreed time to call with updates.

….which usually tailed off into both of them talking about volleyball instead because volleyball was a whole lot more fun.

Hinata very carefully pushed aside the resulting mental montage of sand scraping along his arms on a missed receive and feet sinking into the ground and landing face first in burning sand that was happening way more than he’d expected.

Hinata shook his head, scraping the not-very-blended protein shake out of his blender. “I’ll try to look some stuff up this afternoon.”

“Isn’t your laptop still being screwy?”

“...Maybe.” It was more like Hinata’s ancient laptop had given a sudden death kneel--complete with hisses and the screen flashing--and Hinata was sorta scared he’d get electrocuted if he even touched it. “I’ll use my phone.”

“I could just buy you a laptop, you know,” Atsumu muttered. It wasn’t the first time; Hinata even knew his next line.

Hinata grinned. “That’s really sweet, Atsumu. Absolutely not, you’re already doing enough of the research anyway.”

“Shut up,” Atsumu grumbled. “I am not sweet, this is a trade. Your laptop’s a piece of crap, like actually the worst and I--like any normal human being--am doing my part in putting it out of its misery. Basic compassion right here.”

“But, I don’t need a new laptop,” Hinata insisted like he always did. “I’ve got my phone. That’ll work until I get a job.”

Which he was totally going to get. Soon, too. It was just a little harder than he thought when he didn’t really have a great grip on the language yet.

“Hinata, I’m begging you as a friend here, please don’t resort to selling your organs on the black market.”

Hinata rolled his eyes. “I would never do that. I need them for volleyball.”

“Is that seriously the only reason?”

“Think about how long surgery recovery would take,” Hinata teased. “I only have two years here.”

“I worry about you. Like fundamentally.”

Hinata tilted his head. “But what if I could get like super organs instead.”

“Like Terminator?”

“Yeah! I’m pretty sure I read a manga where that happened once.” He paused. “Oh my gosh, Atsumu, imagine how amazing volleyball would be with superpowers!”

“There’s no way the V.League would approve that.” Atsumu breathed in. “But, what if…”

“I’d get super speed,” Hinata broke in excitedly, “or maybe flying. Oh, or super strength! Imagine hitting a spike with super strength!”

“Awesome!” Atsumu’s voice was speeding up. “What if I had one of those specialty powers like super precision or something! It could get around so many blockers; Suna would be so pissed off! I could set the ball anywhere!”

Hinata huffed. “You already do that.”

Atsumu broke off, sounding pleased. “Really?”

“Of course,” Hinata said. “Hey, wait, how was practice? You got to meet the new libero, right?”

“Yeah, Inunaki--he’s pretty cool. He was mainly working with--” Atsumu cut off, “Fuck, Shou, I gotta tell you about this thing Barnes and I did!”

Atsumu started rambling--words choppy and quick as he got deeper into the retelling of practice in a way that had Hinata hanging off every word. In an abstract sense, Hinata knew that he himself was a people person; he’d always been good at making friends and deeply appreciated every single one he was able to hang onto.

He’d never had a friend like Atsumu.

-------

Shuffling the Deck

(Since it’s late, have an entire opening scene)

ooooooo- 30 Years Prior -ooooooo

Once there was a girl who grew up with her grandmother in a barely patched house, closed in by cliffs.

She was a quiet girl, a pretty face and delicate hands always kept clean despite the threadbare clothes that hung more like rags. The girl did not like to play with the other children which was fitting as they didn’t much like to play with her either.

Instead, she liked to read.

And, more than that, she liked to watch the garden.

Which is what she chose to do, one day at eight years old on the same morning a prominent merchant staggered in to see her grandmother--a terrible illness spreading through his veins and blood in his cough.

The girl was fine with blood but didn’t care for coughing so she stayed exactly where she was, laying on her stomach with head propped in hands while she took in the delicate threads of a spider web.

She always thought the webs were the prettiest part of the garden. They were so very thin and frail that one could barely notice them until they got up close. And, then, once they saw them, they could see the patterns and shapes so carefully woven as if by an artisan.

Sometimes, she even saw the spider.

Sometimes, she tried to get it to crawl to her hand.

It never did though. No matter what she did. The spider was too cautious, too scared of what it believed had power over it.

That was how spiders worked, really. They spun their masterpieces with so much care and precision and, then, they waited patiently for the art to be observed.

The girl was not the only one who found the spider web this morning.

A fly had come across the threads first--likely by accident but the girl liked to imagine that it was the beauty that had drawn the fly in the same as it had done her.

She wondered if the fly still appreciated the art of the web.

It was still alive.

She watched it struggle. Its wings beat uselessly, its many legs trapped in the delicate threads, and a buzzing cry sounding so frantic for such a small creature.

For a moment, she debated on saving it.

She could, of course.

But, that would mean tearing down the gorgeous web that she adored.

But, that would mean the spider may starve and there would be no new web tomorrow.

And, besides, why did she care about dirtying her hands for the sake of a dying fly.

The door of the cottage opened and the girl glanced up idly.

The merchant was stumbling out, gratitude and lavish promises on his breath and a healthy glow back in his cheeks. Her grandmother was smiling kindly, accepting the praise yet turning down the offers same as she always did until eventually the merchant went away.

The girl looked back to the web.

The fly was dead, quickly being wrapped up by the spider to save for later.

She turned back to her grandmother. “He was rich, you know? I heard the other kids talking about him in town. His shipping business goes all the way up to the wealthy islands in the north. If you let him do even half the things he offered, we could live in a mansion and you wouldn’t have to hurt your fingers so much mending clothes.” The tone wasn’t accusing, merely curious. “Why did you say no?”

“Oh, my dear,” Her grandmother leaned down to kiss her hair and the girl allowed it, “because our powers are a gift. They’re not meant to be hoarded and offered for a price. They’re meant to be shared. Besides,” the woman sighed as she watched the road, “what kind of price would that be? Who would I be to demand it? Those who are desperate--for their lives, for those they love--would pay anything. They’d do anything. Who could ever put a price on such a weight? It’s beyond human measure.”

She smiled down at her granddaughter. “Do you understand, my darling Mimi?”

Maemi frowned before nodding, looking down at the spider web.

“Yes, I understand.”

There was no way to know what would have happened if the old woman took up the merchant’s offer. Likely she never would have. She was not that type of person. All that there was to know is that the grandmother and the little girl remained at the patched up cottage, just like they had the girl’s whole life and her grandmother’s life before hers.

They were there six months later when the oceans swelled and brought the waves into shore.

They were not both there after.

Six months later, a man and a girl waded through water as they searched a broken down cottage for survivors.

Well, the man searched at least.

The girl had stopped beside a tree, tall and strong enough to survive a tsunami.

On the bottom branch, at the lowest hanging twig, was a spider’s web just barely managing not to be swept into the water.

The spider was still alive.

But, it wouldn’t be for long.

It struggled, trying to climb up faster even as the bottom of its beautiful web was destroyed by the current.

For a moment, she debated on saving it.

She could, of course.

So, she did.

She snapped a twig from another branch and held it out for the spider to crawl, too. It did willingly, anything to avoid the water below.

It had never crawled to her hand before.

Not like it did now when it was desperate for life.

Maemi watched her dear spider crawl into her open hand.

And, then, she plunged her hand into the water and watched her dear spider drown.

“Yes, grandmother, I understand completely.”

#hq at hogwarts #atfo #cards #walking with my eyes open #call me your home at night #shuffling the deck #triwizard tournament #hq #dcst #dc #atsuhina #wow #okay i think i'm finally done with tags

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sleepdeprivedheretic · 4 years

Text

O Captain, My Captain!

Notes: I have no excuse. Check out Taishispit on Tumblr, they’re good with requests and in general, and helped me realize that I needed some more sub! Mixed in with dom! Tai-chan :3

Setting: Male! reader as a fox hybrid, is entranced with Tai-chan, captain of the guard, thus sparking reader’s bright idea of courting the blonde. With a misunderstanding that could easily be avoided with words, said blonde surprises reader by breaking into his home to finally give him what they both want.

Warnings: Porn with some angst and hurt with comfort and fluffy plot. Mainly an excuse to try writing different things than my usual writing style <3

……….

You yipped in surprise on how easily he had lifted you, pinning your back against the wall as he grinded his dick against yours, kissing you rather roughly in fervor. You whined, locking your legs around his waist as his hands dug further into the cheeks of your ass, keeping you lifted and pinned as your tail swished.

A year. You’ve been wasting your time and efforts onto him for a whole year when you’ve first seen him. He was beautiful, large, round and buff, and having enough at being alone, you’ve decided that you wanted the captain of the guard, of all people, to be your mate.

“Is this what you’ve been wantin’? You desperate slut?” He growled out into your sensitive ear, and you couldn’t help but choke out a needy whine as your legs widened, letting him in closer to rough up your sensitive thighs and leaking cock. You weren’t expecting this, but yes, this is what you’ve been wanting.

You knew that instead of being flattered by your gifts of raw fish, berries, and other useful things, he was annoyed and baffled. You didn’t miss a day from your courting, making sure that he knew that you were available, and would provide the things that he could ever need or want. It wasn’t easy, at first. He would brush you off, make excuses to go elsewhere, and ignore you.

Oh, you would not have that at all, and were pretty determined. Not a day would you miss to hunt him down. You were generous with words, gifts, and let your tail brush up against him, having him smell like your scent, never failed in making your dick twitch with need in the late hours of the night in your home.

Brick by brick, you’ve carved your way towards him, loving and hurting by the chase. You were rewarded with your efforts, though. You’d start earning flustered blushes, constant looks, and even small pats of affection. He’d eventually opened up to you, breaking the wall of ice between the two of you. It made you so damned happy, that you tried to win him over, even harder.

Of course, the dam had to finally break. It took you a long time for you to realize, that he didn’t know that you were courting him. He just thought that you were an obsessive weirdo, your thoughts took towards a bleak turn. He didn’t return your feelings, he would probably be glad that his obsessive stalker had finally left.

So, one day, you just didn’t show up at the training grounds. Your usual, peppy presence wasn’t there to greet him or the guards, nor were you there to basically fawn over the Tsundere captain as he would blush furiously or snark at you. You’ve decided that finally, your heart can’t take enough of the pleasurable pain that it has been enduring for a whole year and some months, and you had decided to just keep to yourself. Maybe move away to another village and never think about your heartache ever again.

Imagine to your surprise, that the door to your little makeshift house had slammed open with a violent fervor. The person of your woes and dreams standing there, looking at you with such a heated and annoyed expression, that you couldn’t help but feel your dick begin to stir to life.

“So, ya had enough of me, is that it? Couldn’t get whattya wanted, n’ now you’re bored?” He all but hissed, and your eyes widened with surprise. Where did that come from? He cut the space between the both of you, leering down at you with a hurt and angry expression, and you opened your mouth to say something, but couldn’t, for he gripped the back of your head, and basically slammed it against his into a rough, dirty kiss.

So here you were now, him chucking off his and your clothes, rutting up against your own arousal with an angry, aroused fervor as he held you up against the wall. Although not entering you, he changed the position of his dick to where it was sliding against your hole, the hot head and precum stimulating your twitching entrance as he bucked his hips, gripping you tightly as he growled into your ears.

“Bet your greedy hole’ll suck me in, huh? That’s whattya wanted from the start, right? Have it fucked n’ filled?” You didn’t know if he was just talking dirty, but you found yourself half-caring, liking the way that he was finally getting the hint. Of course, you need to stress to him that you’re wanting just more than that.

“I-I want you to be my mate, as well! ‘S why I’ve been courting you.” You grunted, and he slowed, leaning his forehead against yours, as if reading your expression.

“You have, haven’t you? Right from the start. Kami, I’m such a dumbass. I’m gonna fuck you stupid. Ya like that idea?” He growled out, and you hastily nodded. He pushed you into his chest, fully carrying your weight as he searched for your bedroom. With some frantic ramblings on where it is, he put you down, only to turn you around, having your face and hands shoved against the wall, ass higher in the air instead of you on your actual bed.

“Ya have any oil?” He grunted out, liking the way your tail kept swishing wildly with want as you peeked up at him almost with shyness.

“There’s some herbal oil in the cupboard. It should work.” Was all you said before he left hastily, but not before a gruff “stay” as you complied. It didn’t take too long, much to your surprise. He was already back with the small round wooden jar. You admit, looking at the angry red erection that he was sporting, both scared and excited you.

“Ready?” He grunted out. You nodded, hugging close to the wall, while he spread your legs, opening the jar, and rubbing generous a generous amount of the oil onto his fingers, staring at your hole and leaking cock with want.

You let out a little yip of surprise as you felt a cool finger trace your entrance, swirling around the hole before finally entering with little resistance.

“Ya know,” He began talking as he massaged your tight insides gently. “why I’m so pissed?” You shuddered at his cool tone, shaking your head.

“Some work buddies said that a certain little fox was gettin’ bored, an’ was gonna find somebody to fuck ‘cause I wouldn’t do it to him. First I tried to brush it off,” He said, tone getting darker as he scissored you now with two fingers, slowly and yet gently opening you up, despite his scowl.

“then, images keep poppin’ in my head that you’re out fuckin’ getting stuffed with somebody else’s dick, n’ it just pissed me off to no end. So I came to a realization.” He continued as four fingers were opening you up nice and wide, his other hand cupping your balls, squeezing them gently. You jolted as his face pressed against your hole where his fingers were.

“W-what’s tha-O-oh!” You cried as a hot, wet warm tongue began to prod your entrance, along with his fingers.

“Tai-chan, that’s dirty!” You all but squealed, and he chuckled, ignoring you as he began tugging at your dick, your precum smearing all over his hand and dripping onto the floor as your arms tried their best to hold yourself up against the wall. Your knees felt weak at the gentle prodding that he was doting onto you, and you found your hips bucking along with his fingers as he finally had hit that special spot within you that made you see galaxies.

“T-Tai-chan! I’m gonna-!” You bucked into his tight grasp, keening as his pace sped up, your face pressed against the wall as you let him fuck you with his fingers and tongue as he was jerking you off in a rather fast pace. You stilled as you spurted all over your wall, leaving a trail of a white messy goop to clean up, afterwords. Right now, your head was in the clouds of your high, and you felt relieved, but still empty.

“You’re mine, and only mine.” He growled out after a few moments of silence, breaking away from your entrance as he stood up. You groaned at the loss of the contact, already missing the feeling of being full, and shuddered on how such words that you’ve been wanting to hear had impacted you.

You looked behind you, being greeted by the sight of him rubbing the oil on his dick as he stared at you with a feral, hungry expression. You swallowed thickly, unsure of how it will fit, and was the wall really a good idea?

“Don’t worry, Dumplin’, I’ll hold ya up so that you won’t fall.” He reassured you, and you relaxed a little.

“W-why can’t we just use the bed?” You stuttered.

“Ya wanna use the bed? Alright.” He pulled you up, your legs shaking from standing up for too long, and he gave you a mock sympathetic look that hardly masked his hunger and glinting pride.

“Poor thing. You’re not use to this, aren’t you?” He cooed as you flopped onto the bed, your shaking knees resting far apart while he crawled in between them.

“Shoulda realized shit, sooner, huh? Yer a handsome thing, so pretty n’ soft.” He murmured, his nicer behavior was sharply contrast against his rough, dominant one as he smoothed over one of your ears, and then brushing over your tail, liking the way the soft appendage waved at the attention. He wasn’t done, kissing your trembling thighs softly, sucking lightly on the soft flesh as you whimpered out, only for him to hum and smooth down your legs with his palm, kissing your knees gently, relaxing you further.

“Tai-chan.” You whimpered out.

“What is it, Sweetling?” He purred at your almost desperate look.

“Can I bite you? Claim you as my mate, now?”

“Oh? Is that how ya do it? I can’t bite ya back, not in the way you can, but I’ll mark up yer skin everyday. Yeah, go ahead. Make me yours.” He hummed as he exposed his neck. Sure, he didn’t have scent glands like your kind, did, and his teeth weren’t sharp enough to claim yours, but you’ll make it work. He’s your human, after all.

“I’ve never did this, you know. It lasts for life, are you okay with that?” You found yourself asking, and he looked at you with surprise, and then a dark, heavy look in which surprised you.

“So foxes mate fer life?”

“Yes?”

“Hm. So...this is your first experience?” He leered at you in such as way, you swallowed thickly.

“Shut up.” You growled out in annoyance, and he chuckled lowly, sending embers further down your spine.

“Fuck. Come here n’ bite me, ‘cause I’m gonna fuck you into yer mattress, soon.” He growled out, as he pulled you up onto his lap, exposing his neck. You weaved your fingers through his, squeezing gently as you licked at the exact spot in which you wanted to bite as a foreshadowing on what was about to come. Then, you bit him. He stilled with shock as your fangs pierced the skin, drawing blood as you hastily cleaned it up, trying to make it quick and as less messy as possible.

“I’m sorry, Taishiro.” You murmured out his name as your thumb rubbed against his palm apologetically. He hummed gently, pleased by your affections.

“Don’t worry about it, Handsome. So sweet to me, as always.” He purred, kissing your cheek, and then your lips gently as he leaned you back down.

“Are ya ready for the main course?” He asked. You nodded. Kissing you, he made sure that you had a pillow underneath your hips, as well as loosened before he added some extra oil onto his dick, eyeing your expression closely. You nodded, and he guided himself to your entrance. It was a slow process, him sliding into you gently, stilling whenever you tensed, him reminding you to relax as he kissed you softly. It was a whole other contrast from earlier, but you loved the softer side of him, too.

You felt so full and stretched, and noticed that his dick was resting on the spot in which drove you crazy. You felt so taken care of.

He leaned down, slotting himself against your own body, your own cock and nipples rubbing against his stomach and chest, as his forehead rested against yours, hands intertwined.

“Lemme take care of you, alright? You deserve this.” He murmured, kissing you softly as you couldn’t help but keen at the affection as your tail brushed up against him.

“I feel full.” You opted, instead, and he grinned, rocking his hips ever so slightly at your prostate, causing you to let out a choked sound.

“T-Taishiro~!” You couldn’t help it.

“Faster?”

“Fuck me into the mattress like you said.” You demanded, and hoisting your right leg over your shoulder, he sunken even deeper as he then complied. You couldn’t think, all you could do is feel and look at his face. Biting his lip, brows furrowed, he looked as if he was trying not to come inside of you, just yet, but you paid that no mind, you were feeling him just hit that spot over and over again as his hips snapped to meet yours in a desperate fervor. Your dick bobbed from the movements, leaking precum onto everything as you began panting out his name, feeling tears and drool frothing from you as your hips tried to meet his faster movements.

Your bedding shook violently at his movements as your brain went blank. You weren’t going to last, long, but neither was he. Taking the hint, his hand wrapped around your dick, jerking it off to the animistic thrusting of his hips.

“So! Fuckin’ tight!” He growled into your ear, nipping at the furred shell as your mind faltered.

“I’m gonna-! Taishiro!” You found yourself shouting out as white enveloped your vision, your body spasmed as you came onto his hand and the both of your chests and your hole tightened.

“Damn!” He as well called out your name, hips sloppily faltering as he shot his load inside of you. You groaned at the hot seed coating your raw insides, thighs tightening their grip around him as he stilled, back arched as he gripped your hands tightly. He rolled you on top of him, collapsing as the both of you breathed heavily, the aftershocks still coming into the both of you like waves. You groaned, realizing that he was lazily still rocking his hips, burying his seed deeper within you.

After what seemed to be a millennia, his dick softened as he gingerly pulled out of you, the both hissing at the loss of contact. You felt his essence leak out of you, and you honestly didn’t hate the strange feeling. He started kissing you gently, bringing you back to reality.

“Are you okay, Baby?” He hummed out the question as his hands smoothed over your ruffled ears, then sliding gently down to your back, rubbing soothing circles as he stared at you with a concerned look. You kissed him.

“You’re amazing. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Darlin’, but I don’t think we’re done, here.” He didn’t hesitate the words, and you crooned.

“What do you mean?”

“Your turn. You wanna fuck me, right?”

“Make love, actually.” Your heartbeat sped up at the thought, finally getting to have him underneath you. He kissed you.

“Sap. Get me ready, alright?” He smiled, and you grabbed the jar that he’d set aside, thrilled at the aspect.

You didn’t waste much time, giving him the same gentle treatment that he’d given you, returning the little kisses on the inside of his thigh and knees as he looked at up at you with such a soft expression.

“Always been so good to me, haven’t ya? Such a good mate.” He groaned out as your fingers hit his prostate, you mentally remembering where it was.

“Is this your first time, too?” You couldn’t help but ask. Your hand was on his dick, fingers stretching him out gently as his hole fluttered around them. He groaned.

“First time bottoming, yeah. Oooh~! Baby, do that again.” He demanded, rocking his hips sharply against your hands. You kissed his thigh, obliging to his demands. You wanted to take more time with him, as he did you. The both of your dicks heavy and erect, now, and you were getting a little tired and were a little sore from the first round. Yet, you wanted to please your mate.

“I love you, Taishiro.” You opted, instead, breaking away from you ministrations. He looked like the mess that you were, earlier. Hooded eyes greeted you as drool pooled down his chin, his face flushed.

“Love ya, too. Now fill me up, Buttercup.” He said, and you agreed. Copying his earlier administrations, you hissed as the cool oil slid down your dick, slimy and sticky, but it was perfect. You followed his example as you began to slide into him. Hot and tight heat gripped you as you looked at his reactions.

“Oh fuck, that feels good.” He growled out, and you were surprised. You weren’t all the way in, yet, and already he looked debauched. Taking your cue, you let yourself be consumed by the heat, liking the way his walls gripped you so tightly as he moaned out, trying to get you to move when you finally rested your balls against his ass. You were in the same position that he was, you flushed against his chest as your hands cupped his face.

“Let me take my time with you.” You murmured gently to him, and his expression softened at your own softness. He kissed you.

“Oh, Sweetlin’, please move.”

You complied, hitting the bundle of nerves within him as you gently moved against his bucking hips.

“Shit, I feel so full. Is this is what ya went through? I might fight ya just to bottom.” He whined out, and your hips stalled at the confession, only for him to grip them and pull them forwards. He was so tight, you didn’t want to cum before him. Tears of frustration pooled at his eyes as you tried your best not to snap your hips. You didn’t want him to suffer, but you were so close.

“Please cum inside, Honey. I’ll take it, just! Fuck!” He began rambling.

“I-I want you to come, first!” You stammered, and he gave you such a soft look as he kissed your forehead gingerly.

“Please. Ya can suck me off, kay? Yer such a good mate, you deserve to come inside me. Please?” He begged, and you found yourself picking up the pace at the prospect, and seeing him so vulnerable and adorable, did it for you. Your face hid in the crook of his neck as you came, and to your surprise, he followed afterwords, coating your hand and stomachs.

After coming down from your highs, you looked down at him.

“Dearest, did you just-From me cumming inside you?” You asked gingerly, and he laughed as he gave you a sloppy kiss.

“Damn right, I did, Sugarplum. Hm. Let’s get cleaned up, okay? I’m ready for some pillow talk.” He purred into your ear, and you nodded, happily.

After getting cleaned up, the both of you plopped down on the bed, completely worn out as he pulled your frame against his.

“’S so hot, seein’ my cum leak out of you like that. Maybe I should just get a plug?” He cooed at your flushed expression.

“Tai-chan!” You squeaked, and he laughed lowly.

“Anyway, it took me way too fuckin’ long to realize that I want you to always be ‘round me. Move in with me?” He looked at you hopefully, and you nodded happily as you kissed him.

“Of course! We’re basically married, after all.” You admitted shyly, but you were rewarded with a warm smile and a heartfelt kiss.

“Good. ‘M glad.” He admitted, rubbing his cheek against yours, and you sighed in content, letting a peaceful rest take over you.

……………..

:) I’m...I tried? It’s different, but Thank You for reading this <3

#Taishiro Toyomitsu #Fatgum #Fatgum x reader #Male! reader #They're in love #Not abo #Although he's a fox #I didn't add knotting #Woops #Smut

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castieltheavengerr · 3 years

Text

Wormhole - Part 2

Series Masterlist

Synopsis: Y/N wakes up in a place she doesn’t know of, with a man claiming to be a god by her side. Superheroes don’t exist, right? In time, she finds out things about herself that she never knew before, and even gets to live with a hot guy, who also happens to be a crime fighting superhero. Will Y/N ever be able to go back home, or has she found it already?

Warnings: Mentions of a panic attack, swearing, allusions to a car crash, a beer bottle mentioned

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: Oh my god i’m so sorry this took so long school has been super busy, i’m doing this with the little free time i have. anyway, here’s part 2 :)

You wait next to Thor in an open field. He mentioned something about some sort of guardians coming to pick him up, and he said that they’d likely bring you to America before they left. You’d asked who they are, where they’re from, but he wouldn’t tell you. It’s like he’s trying to surprise you.

Even though you still have almost no idea of what’s going on, you don’t want to leave Thor’s side. He was the first person you saw, he’s nice, and you trust him. Plus, he could easily protect you if it came to it. As you’re waiting, you hear a loud whooshing noise. Thor looks at you and smiles.

“Ah, that must be the morons. Up there,” he says, pointing to the sky. You expect a plane, but instead you’re met with a blue and orange craft that looks vaguely like it could have come from Star Wars. A large gust of wind hits you, and you fall on the ground. Thor laughs heartily, and starts to walk towards where the ship landed. You hop up, and apprehensively follow him. A ramp lowers to the ground from the ship, and the weirdest looking group of people and things walks out. Someone who you assume is human, dressed in a long red coat, a humanoid figure that is grey with red stripes, and the weirdest ones of all; a walking branch, who’s playing on a game console that looks similar to a Game Boy, another humanoid figure with antennae coming out of her head, and a fucking raccoon, who happens to be holding a gun.

They walk towards Thor, all smiling, except for the human, who looks a bit pissed off at the god. They then see you, sort of hiding behind Thor’s enormous body, and get confused. Then, the weirdest part of your day happens. The raccoon talks.

“Who the fuck is this, Thor? Did you find out you have a kid? That would be wonderful,” the raccoon says, looking you dead in the eye. You’re sure you look like an idiot, mouth open and eyes wide, but a fucking raccoon just talked to you. You think you have a right to be surprised. Thor laughs again.

“No, she isn’t my child. This is Y/N. We just have a bit of a problem, and I need to get her to America. I know some people who may be able to help her. Could you bring us there before we head out?” Thor asks, trying to be as vague as he can, which you are grateful for. Sure, they all look like freaks, but you sure as hell don’t want to be seen as one. The man in the red coat looks at you, seeming to consider it, before nodding his head.

“Yeah, sure, as long as it doesn’t take long. I don’t like this stupid planet, and want to get out of here as soon as possible.” You think, and consider the fact that given the looks of these people, and the weirdness of this new place, aliens are definitely real, so his words make sense. Thor smiles and claps his hands together.

“Great! Shall we be on our way then?” The group turns towards their ship and starts walking, and you and Thor follow suit. You walk inside the ship, and are disgusted by the nastiness of it. There’s garbage everywhere, and a T-shirt with some white subst- oh god. You just turn your head away, trying not to think about it. Thor turns to you and starts to introduce the Guardians. “That there is the captain, Peter Quill. He’s from Midgard, just like you,” he says, but then sees the look of confusion on your face. “Midgard is what we call Earth on Asgard, where I’m from.” You nod your head, just going along with it. “The rabbit there is Rocket,” Thor says, but then the raccoon pipes up.

“I’m not a rabbit asshole!” You just stare ahead, still not wanting to comprehend the fact that apparently raccoons can talk. Thor smiles and continues.

“Whatever you say rabbit. The tree over there is Groot.” The tree looks at you and waves, before it starts to talk. If you hadn’t already witnessed crazier things, you’d say you’d accidentally had some hallucinogenic drugs.

“I am Groot,” the tree says, and you nod slowly.

“I’m Y/N?” you apprehensively say, not sure how to respond. This time, it’s the raccoon that laughs.

“No, those are the only three words he can say. It takes a while to learn how to speak it.” You just give the raccoon, who you remember is Rocket, a small thumbs-up. Thor continues.

“The woman over there is Mantis,” he says, and she smiles sheepishly at you, her antennae bobbing up and down. You try to smile back, but you’re sure it comes out as a kind of grimace.

“And that over there is Drax.” The weird looking dude gives you a small wave, and turns back to whatever he was doing. You still have your arms crossed defensively over your chest, and as you take a look around, you get overwhelmed.

“Guess this is what I get for wishing for a more exciting life,” you think, regretting the thought even crossing your mind. Rocket walks over to you and pokes your leg.

“So what’s the deal here, huh Thor? Random chick that needs to get someplace? Seems fishy to me,” he says, giving you a side-eye. Thor looks over at you, as if asking for permission to tell them what he knows, and you give him a little nod.

“No, not at all. Y/N popped up in the middle of the street in New Asgard, not conscious, so I brought her to a bed. She woke up and freaked out, understandably so. She knows nothing about myself, the Avengers, or the Snap. She was afraid of me, and somehow sent a bottle at my head. I’ve called some old friends with SHIELD to help out,” Thor tells them, and they all eye you weirdly, especially at the whole ‘snap’ part.

The one named Peter shakes his head and waves his hands in front of himself. “Wait, you mean to tell me you don’t know about the Snap?” He gave you a look like you were the stupidest person in the world.

“Uh, well, if what you’re referring to is the fact that half of the fucking universe just turned to ash out of nowhere, then yeah, that never happened,” you defensively say, not wanting to deal with this douchebag’s shit. He raises his eyebrows at you.

“Aren’t you like, 10?” he says, mocking you. You give him the bird, and everyone else laughs.

“I’m 16, asshole,” you say, having heard that phrase one too many times. The Drax dude laughs loudly, and points at Peter.

“The small girl is feisty! I like her!” he loudly says, doubling over in laughter. You just scowl. Thor claps his hands, and tries to change the subject.

“Alright! Quill, how far away are we from the compound?” Thor asks in his booming voice. Peter walks over to the front of the ship to check something, at which point you realize that no one is flying the ship. You figure it must be on autopilot.

“We should be there in about 30 minutes,” Quill says, taking a seat. Thor smiles and claps your back a bit too hard, and you stumble forward. Before you can fall, he catches you by your shoulder, and pulls you back up. You turn to him, frowning. He smiles sheepishly.

“Sorry, I’m used to doing that with my friends. They’re quite built.” You let out a small smile, and move to sit on the floor. Thor moves to talk to the raccoon, and you’re left all alone. You put your head in your hands, wondering how this could have happened to you. Did you get teleported to an alternate universe, or did something else happen? A small sob escapes your mouth, and then when you feel a small hand on your back, you look up. The tree named Groot is standing next to you, giving you a small smile. You smile back, glad to have him care, even if he is just a branch.

“I am Groot,” he says, almost sympathetically. While you have no idea what he’s trying to say, you appreciate the gesture.

“Even though I have no idea what that means, thanks. I just don’t know what to do. Nothing makes sense, there’s gods now, and raccoons and trees can talk.” You put your head back in your hands, overwhelmed by the absurdity of it all. Then, you feel him poke your arm, you slowly look up, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes. Groot holds out his Game Boy to you. You reach out and gingerly take it, looking at the game he’s playing. It looks like a game your parents would have played when they were kids. It’s called Arcade Defender. You press a button, and the screen starts up. You smile and start shooting the fuck out of those aliens.

For the next thirty minutes, you and a talking tree sit next to each other, taking turns playing a game from the ‘80s, while riding in a spaceship with a literal god, a talking raccoon, two aliens, and an asshole human. You’re just actually starting to enjoy yourself when Thor walks over to you two, a smile on his face at seeing you having some form of fun.

“Sorry, Y/N, but we’re almost to the compound. It’s better to stand and hold something while landing,” he says, feeling bad to have to disrupt your enjoyment. You nod and stand up with Groot, and hand him the Game Boy. Just as you stand up, the ship moves considerably, and you nearly fall over, but Groot catches you.

“Thanks,” you say, smiling at the tree. You lean on the wall until the ship lands, trying your best not to fall. You notice Quill staring at you, a weird look on his face. He probably thinks you’re just an idiot for not knowing how to stand on a landing spaceship. Dick.

“Ok, everyone, we’re here,” Quill says. He looks over at you and Thor. “You guys can head on out, we’ll be here when you’re ready to leave, Thor.” All eyes turn to you, and you just want to shrivel up and die, but not before screaming, “I didn’t ask for this! I’m not some spectacle to look at! I’m a normal human being!” But you keep your mouth shut. You don’t want to draw any more attention to yourself that you already have.

Thor turns to you before walking towards the ramp, which has lowered itself to the ground. You follow him, wrapping your arms around your midsection. You slowly walk down the ramp, the sunlight blinding your eyes. You put your hand above them to be able to see, and are met with a sight to behold.

Before you stand two people, a man and a woman. The woman is normal enough looking, with her brown hair up in a bun. However, the man is the one that catches you off guard. He’s wearing a long black coat, almost like the one the Quill dude was wearing- actually, everything he’s wearing is black. He’s also wearing an eyepatch over his left eye.

“This the one Thor?” the man asks, with a voice deep and loud enough to make you jump. He eyes you quite aggressively, and you shrink into yourself.

“Yes, this is Y/N L/N. Thought it would be best to bring her to you since you have, ah, expertise in this area.”

The man side eyes you. “You could say that,” he says, looking you right in the eye. You shift your legs uncomfortably, not sure how to read this man. He clears his throat. “I’m Director Fury of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Logistics and Enforcement Division, more commonly known as SHIELD,” he says to you in greeting, but does not extend his hand. “This is Agent Hill,” he says, gesturing towards the woman besides him. She gives you a tight lipped smile. “Ms. L/N, if you would follow me please,” Fury asks, but you don’t really think you have a choice. He and Hill start to walk towards the building, and you follow suit, but you notice a lack of presence beside you. You turn around, and notice Thor just standing there, not walking with you.

You stop, and look at him quizzically. He gives you a small smile.

“Aren’t you coming?” you ask, your voice coming out small and scared. Fury and Hill stop walking behind you. Thor shakes his head sadly, looking at you with something you can’t pinpoint in his eyes. Even though you may have only met a few hours ago, he’s the one person you trust (besides Groot), and he seems to have grown quite fond of you as well.

“I must attend to my duties with the Guardians. I really am sorry that I can’t stay with you Y/N, but I trust Fury and Hill very much. I have no doubt they will help you with your problems.” You know Thor truly means what he says, but you’re scared. You start to feel your lungs constrict, and it’s getting hard to breathe. You hear Thor trying to talk to you, but you can’t tell what he’s saying. Then you hear Fury’s booming voice yelling at you.

“Ms. L/N, you need to calm down. Please come with us,” he says, an edge of wariness in his voice. You shake your head, the world still spinning around you, your lungs betraying you. Why is he leaving you? You have no one left from your life, and now the one person whom you trust is leaving too?

You have no sense of your surroundings until you feel someone grab your wrist. However gently they grabbed it, you still freak out, and feel a wave of energy move through you. The next thing you know, you see Fury flying across the lawn, and Hill is yelling into something in her hand. Everyone is yelling and you can’t handle it. You start screaming yourself, sobs wracking your body.

You hear loud footsteps running towards you, and a hand grabs your upper arm harshly. You wrench yourself out of the iron grip, screaming at the person.

“Don’t touch me! Don’t fucking touch me!” you scream, and are vaguely aware of another large, muscled man flying through the air. Everyone is yelling, and you’re overwhelmed. You put your hands over your ears, wanting to block out the noise, but it does next to nothing. You continue to sob, your chest heaving from your hyperventilating and continued wails.

With everything going on around you, you fail to notice the bodies coming from behind you, grabbing your arms and shoulders stringently. You try to fight them off, but before the energy makes its way through you, you feel a blinding pain in the small of your back, concurrent with the loud sound of electricity crackling. You scream and fall to your knees, and the hands force you down. A sharp prick is felt on your neck, and even in seconds, you already feel yourself drifting away. The hands turn you over, and before you slip into unconsciousness, you hear Thor’s voice.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. You’ll be alright.”

————————————————————————————————

Taglist:

@eridanuswave

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged!

#reader x peter parker #peter parker x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #marvel #thor odinson #nick fury #maria hill #reader x spiderman #spider man x reader #spiderman #spiderman ffh #the avengers #avengers endgame #avengers fanfiction #avengers fic

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bellakitse · 4 years

Text

searching for a trail to follow again

How many life decisions did you make today?

Just one more.

Before TK talks to his team, he and Carlos have a conversation at the hospital and come to a decision about their relationship.

*Spoilers for the finale*

They finish stitching him up, and the nurse leaves but not before giving him a lecture about being more careful. She doesn’t seem impressed that he popped his stitches trying to save someone’s life. Though she does take pity on him enough to find him a spare t-shirt, getting rid of his ruin one.

It hurts to lift his arm with the fresh stitches, and the day’s events are catching up with him. He’s struggling with the top when he hears footsteps. Looking towards the door, he’s both surprised and not surprised to see who’s there, his heart giving a jerk at who it is.

“Hey,” he starts, not sure what else to add as he looks at Carlos. He watches him as he gives him a quick once over, no doubt checking to see how hurt he is, his shoulders losing some of their tension as he concludes that he’s all right.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” Carlos says softly as he walks into the room. “I would have come with you earlier but –“

“You had to keep helping,” he finishes for him with a half-smile. Of course, Carlos stayed behind to help; it doesn’t matter that he’s not on the clock or that he’s in street clothes. It’s obvious that Carlos was made to help people; it’s in his blood the way it’s in his dad’s. Carlos’ thoughtfulness and compassion leaps out of him in everything he does.

Even now, after their less than awesome date, which ended with them breaking up – can you even break up if you weren’t really together? And if they weren’t together, why does TK ache right now looking at him – even now Carlos is proving how kind he is by being here.

“Are you okay?” Carlos asks as he comes to stand in front of where he sits.

TK holds on to the shirt he’s been trying to put on, twisting it in his hands. He shifts nervously, and the paper on the exam table underneath him crinkles loudly. “Yeah,” he licks his lips anxiously as he bobs his head. “I’m okay. I checked on the woman from the bus, Ellen, and then had them fix my stitches,” he tries to smile, but it feels stiff on his face. “Then the nurse yelled at me for being reckless.”

Carlos smiles back at him gently. “You should have told her you were being a hero.”

TK chuckles, some of the tension he feels disappearing. That’s the thing about Carlos, he’s seen him in bad shape, acting at his worse, but he still finds a way to make TK feel good and comfortable, while all TK seems to do is disappoint him.

“Do you need help with your shirt?” Carlos questions, giving it a look. “It looked like you were struggling.”

TK stares at him, taking in Carlos’ kind eyes, patient the way he always is with him, and it hurts how much he wants to keep him. Even while knowing he doesn’t deserve it.

“May I?” he holds out his hand for TK to hand him the shirt, flashing him a smile when he does.

“We’ll go slow,” Carlos assures him as he slips the shirt over his head. “Now, the good side.”

TK does as he’s told, wincing when they get to the hurt side of his body, the stitches on his chest pull as he lifts his arm. “Shit,” he says, letting out a small groan.

Carlos makes a sympathetic noise, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze as he helps TK put his arm through the opening. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs, not realizing how the endearment makes TK’s heart skip. He runs a hand down TK’s side, smoothing the shirt out. “There, we’re done.”

“Why are you here?” he blurts out, feeling like an absolute dick at the hurt look that flashes across Carlos’ face.

Carlos takes a breath, and his expression settles into something more neutral, carefully blank. It reminds TK of the night at the police station. Of Carlos telling him he’s used to crazy. It’s the most closed-off TK has ever seen Carlos be with him, and he hated it. He hates it now too.

“I wanted to see if you were okay,” he repeats after a moment.

“Why?” he asks, the plea loud for both of them to hear. “After today at the juice bar, after how we ended things, why Carlos?”

Carlos frowns at him, but he doesn’t look mad. Instead, he seems worried, and TK can only imagine the look on his face right now, how desperate he must look. “I care about you, TK,” Carlos starts, his words hitting TK hard. “You not wanting to be with me doesn’t change that. I care about you, and I’m going to keep doing so, even if we’re never together.”

“You shouldn’t,” TK gets out, feeling his eyes sting, and he has to bite down on his lip to keep from giving in to the urge to cry. “I’m not worth it.”

Carlos’ eyes go hard, and now TK starts to see some anger. “That’s for me to decide, Tyler,” he says sternly. “Not you.”

TK shakes his head, frustration making him all but vibrate.

“I’ll hurt you,” he promises, pushing forward when he sees Carlos open his mouth to argue. “You said you felt some strong feelings when you saw me in that hospital bed. Well, this isn’t the first time this year that’s happened. It’s not the first time I’ve almost died.”

“TK –“

“I OD’d back in New York,” he rushes to get out, the words feeling like bile at his throat. He watches as Carlos gets a stricken look on his face. It hurts TK to hurt him, but better he know now, rather than later. “I got my heartbroken, and instead of handling it, I scored some pills and OD’d. My dad found me passed out, and my heart had stopped,” he finishes, his voice breaking.

He can’t help the tears that fall now, and he hates that there are tears on Carlos’ face too. “That’s who I am, Carlos, now tell me I’m still worth caring for.”

TK watches as Carlos struggles for a moment as he looks away from him, he takes in the way he’s trying to get his breath under control, the tear tracks down his face, and the shake in his left hand. His body looks like a tight coil ready to spring.

When he looks back at TK, there is a resolve in his expression that makes TK’s breath catch.

“Yes, you are.”

TK shakes his head, feeling his lungs tighten as he fights for a breath. “No.”

“Yes, Tyler,” Carlos answers, his tone tells TK he’s firm in his conviction, and TK finds himself crying, it’s selfish of him, but he’s relieved, and he knows he can’t hide it.

“Carlos – “ he gets out, not even knowing what he wants to say.

Carlos closes the gap between them. His hands tenderly cradle TK’s face, bringing another wave of tears as he’s touched with such care. “Listen to me,” he starts, his voice is gentle in that way that seems to be for him alone. “You can tell me that you don’t want this, that you don’t have feelings for me. I can handle that. It would suck, but I’m a big boy, and you aren’t my first rejection. You can tell me that you aren’t ready for anything more, and you just want me to be your friend. You can even tell me that you never want to see me again, and to get lost.”

TK lets out a huff as he rolls his eyes. That’s the last thing he wants, everything would be so much easier if that were the case.

Carlos gives him a small smile in return.

“But you can’t tell me not to care about you,” Carlos raises his eyebrows at him, making sure he’s listening. He is, he’s listening even as his heart pounds loudly in his ears. “Because that’s not going to happen. I will always care about you, and you telling me about your OD, doesn’t change that. If anything, it makes me care and admire you more.”

“You’re crazy,” TK jokes faintly, affection spreading through his body for the man holding him. It’s such a bad idea, but he can’t help but want for Carlos to keep doing it, and he wants to hold him back.

He wraps his hands around Carlos’ wrists, pulling his hands off his face. Carlos moves to take a step back, but TK tightens his hold, keeping him in place. Waiting him out, Carlos raises an eyebrow at him.

TK realizes with a stumble of his heart that it’s his move to make. Tugging him forward, he lets out a breath when Carlos steps in closer.

“I’m a mess,” he warns him, looking at Carlos seriously. He needs him to understand what he’s getting into with him. “I’m probably going to be a mess for a while.”

Carlos answers him with a soft smile. “I’m not perfect either, TK.”

“I might hurt you,” he counters, swallowing when Carlos nods.

“I might hurt you too,” he says softly. TK doesn’t tell him that he already knows that. Given a chance, he knows he’ll give Carlos his whole heart, and with it the power to crush it.

Carlos sees this, and TK lets out a trembling breath as Carlos leans in, touching his forehead against his. “I’ll try very hard not to though,” he whispers, his breath like a touch against TK’s mouth.

“Me too,” TK whispers in return.

Carlos pulls back, the beginnings of a smile on his face. He’s beautiful, and TK’s crazy heart gives out yet another erratic thump. “What does that mean?”

TK closes his eyes, a reluctant smile making its way to his face. “You said we could go slow,” he says, pointing at the shirt Carlos just carefully helped him put on. He thinks if there is anyone who would be careful with his heart, it’s Carlos.

“You set the speed,” he tells him, his eyes bright with joy, it makes TK feel warm and cared for.

“Yeah?” TK asks, needing to be sure.

Carlos nods. “Yes, TK,” he answers tenderly. He raises a hand again to touch TK’s face, his thumb caressing his cheek.

TK leans into the touch, grabbing at Carlos’ shirt to pull him even closer. He touches the back of Carlos’ neck and pushes himself up from the exam table to brush his lips against his.

He keeps the kiss light, the barest touch of their mouths, but it’s been weeks since he’s kissed Carlos, and it’s more than enough to make every part of TK’s body hum.

“Then can we, be a ‘we’ now?” he asks quietly, his heart buzzing with hopefulness.

The smile Carlos gives him when he says yes, is the gentlest anyone outside his father has ever given him, and as he feels it against his mouth when they kiss again, something inside him slowly starts to mend.

#911 lone star #tarlos fic #tarlos #911 lone star fic #tk x carlos #my writing

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mikkomacko · 4 years

Text

In The Shadows 4

The bacon on the stove cackles lowly, spitting out a spark of hot grease and y/n is grateful that she's not standing in front of the pan. She hums, flipping her hash browns as the creak of the front door opening and closing flows through downstairs. The sound of a duffel bag dropping, and light shoes on the floor makes her smile. She moves over to flip the bacon, lowering the flame under the pan.

"They upstairs?"

Y/n turns, rolling her lips into her mouth to keep from smiling too much. Harry's on the other side of the counter, tiny hair clip holding his rouge curls back, and he's dressed like he just came from practice. She nods, stomach fluttering when his dimples sink into his rosy cheeks.

"Sleeping or getting ready?"

It takes her a moment to peel her focus off of him enough to answer. "Jess is in the shower, Jo went for a run, and Tia should still be sleeping."

Harry's smile deepens, and he quickly maneuvers around the counter, crowding her back into the corner and cupping her face. His lips are like a cool shower after a hot day, or coffee early in the morning, or the sun rising after a night of rain.

The bacon pops again, and Harry jumps away from her. "Fuckin'-" he furiously rubs his arm where a red splotch has grown, pouting like a baby at the mark.

Y/n giggles, flipping the meat again. "You okay?" She asks, moving the finished hash browns to a serving plate and working on scrambling eggs.

"I guess so," Harry mutters, leaning his hip against the counter top. He crosses his arms over his chest, glaring at the pan of bacon. "fucking cock blocking bacon."

She giggles again, leaning over to peck his cheek just because she can. After all this time she can finally kiss him. Well, as long as Jess isn't around. But it's worth it, it's so worth it, and judging by the smug grin on Harry's lips, he believes it too.

The sound of that bedroom door opening upstairs pops the bubble around them, sending Harry two steps further from the stove and y/n staring intently at her eggs. Not wanting to seem awkward or different in front of whoever's coming downstairs, y/n strikes up conversation. "How was practice?"

Harry groans, throwing his head back and pouting. Y/n has to try really hard to not smile like a puppy being handed a bone. "Exhausting. Don't have a game this week so we're conditioning."

"I'm assuming it's a lot of running?"

"You've no idea." He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest, "Made me glad I didn't eat breakfast this morning or it would've been-"

"Why are you here so early and why are taking about gross things?"

Her shoulders deflate at the sound of Jess's voice, disappointed that she's not really gonna be able to speak to him much now. Jess always has to be the one talking.

"Didn't even say anything gross!" Harry defends, eyebrows scrunching.

"You would've if I hadn't stopped you!"

Y/n continues cooking, the siblings arguing fading into background noise as she sneaks gazes at Harry. It's odd to look at him now and know he's more than Jess' brother, more than a friend. He's her boyfriend. Her very hot, yet adorable, captain of the soccer team boyfriend. Her stomach flutters. Harry's turned her into a mushy fangirl fonding over her favorite heartthrob. She supposes he's always been her favorite heartthrob though, so she shouldn't be too surprised.

"Stop bitching at me and go suck Tina's dick or something."

The snip in Harry's voice snaps y/n out of her thoughts, eyes widening as Jess gasps. She turns to her best friend, wincing when she sees her angry squint. If this were a cartoon, her head would be red and smoke would pour out of her ears.

"Stop annoying my friend and go tap another keg!"

Harry snorts, rolling his eyes. "Good comeback, m'such a stupid frat lad aren't I?"

Jess slams her hands on the counter, screaming in frustration before taking off out of the room, stomping all the way upstairs. The kitchen is now uncomfortably silent, a disembodied ring filling the air alongside Harry's obvious annoyance. He slumps back against the counter, head falling forward as he huffs to himself.

It's not the first fight she's ever seen between the two siblings, not even close, but it is the first fight in which Harry's hers and Jess only wants her when it's convenient. Like for arguments, or help studying, or someone to make her breakfast. With that thought up front in her mind, she tip toes to Harry, hands behind her back nervously. Usually when him and Jess fight, she's giving him a sympathetic smile and following after the younger of the two.

She gently butts her forehead into his shoulder, muttering, "Hi." She's not sure what else to say.

Harry peeks at her out of the corner of his eye, only pausing for a brief second before his teeth are releasing his bottom lip and he's grinning. "Hey,"

"Do you want toast?"

Chuckling lowly, so manly in his chest yet so cute on his mouth, Harry drops his arms and wiggles her into his chest and caging her in with hands steady on her back. "I'd love some toast."

"Yeah?"

He pecks her nose and her stomach swoops. "Yeah."

"Only if you shower right after breakfast."

Harry's mouth parts in offence, eyebrows pinching together. "Are you saying I'm stinky?"

"Not explicitly." Y/n giggles quietly, fingers tightening on his shirt where they rest on his abdomen.

"She's not gonna let me use her shower peanut." Harry shrugs, as if there's no other way for him to possibly clean himself in a house with four showers and a spout out front. Not that she'd spray him down with a hose, but still.

"You can use mine. S'probably cleaner than hers anyway." Both her and Harry giggle at that. Jess and Harry are known for being quite messy, and y/n is known for being the one following behind to clean up the mess.

"Thank you."

"Of course," she lets her lips ghost over his in a teasing kiss. "now let me finish breakfast before you start fermenting."

"What happened when we all got home? Did you stay at the house?"

The courtyard is empty, everyone most likely back in their rooms getting ready for the football game tonight. Which is convenient for Y/n and Zoe because they haven't seen each other since Saturday and they need a safe, low-key place to talk about what happened with Harry. Zoe told her that her and a couple of the girls saw them kiss, but most of the crowd was clearing out already and probably missed it so they were safe there. As for the team, Harry's already asked them to not say anything, wanting to keep their relationship quiet for now.

"He just walked me home. I didn't even think about staying with him if I'm being honest."

Zoe rolls her eyes at y/n, giggling, "you can stay with him without being hunted down by the church ya know?"

Blushing, y/n wraps her arms around her chest and elbows her friend. "I know that! It just didn't come up, like he didn't invite me and I'm not going to invite myself."

A whistle blows from the direction of the soccer field, hopefully coach calling the end of practice. Usually she's goes home right after class, but Zoe texted her and asked if they wanted to hang out before the game. Apparently part of "hanging out" is waiting for Niall and Harry to get out of practice, not that she minds. She loves hanging out with Zoe, and she loves the warmth that bubbles in her veins when she thinks of Harry now.

"I mean, that'll probably be the spot for you two now, right? It's not like you can be all relationship-y at your house with his sister around." Zoe makes a face at the mention of Jess, greatly disliking the girl after seeing how careless she is with her friends. She's probably heard some stories from Harry as well.

Y/n shrugs. She hasn't thought about it much, too excited by the fact that Harry actually likes her the way she likes him. They both decided to not tell anyone who could potentially let Jess know, wanting to see how they work as a couple before causing a disaster with Jess. It sucks to think that she can't share this part of her life with her best friend. This is her first boyfriend, her first college relationship, and she should be giggling and complaining about him to Jess like normal friends. But Jess has made it very clear how she'd feel about Harry dating any of her friends, let alone y/n. A part of her is flattered that Jess is so selfish over her, but deep down she knows it's not that way. If Jess loved her so much, why is she always dropped for Tina?

"No one at the house would do anything to fuck this up for you, ya know?" Zoe bumps their shoulders together, offering her a reassuring smile. "The boys all love Harry so much, and the fact that you're like the first girl he's ever been interested in is a huge deal. They wouldn't chase you away or spread rumors. You're safe there."

Y/n leans closer to her friend, conveying her gratefulness for Zoe through the simple action. "All the guys there are nice, it's just weird still. Like I've never actually dated someone so to have my first relationship around that many people is kinda scary."

A soft chatter comes from the soccer field, and then a couple players are passing them to head towards the dorms. Y/n notices them wincing as they walk and frowns, knowing Harry's going to be just as sore from conditioning too. "Maybe it's a good thing, ya know? Going out of your comfort zone a bit. Could make your relationship even stronger in the long run."

Silence takes over, Zoe turning towards the field at the sound of more footsteps undoubtedly hoping it's Niall and Harry, while y/n tries not to well up with tears. She's going to have thank Harry for introducing her to a real friend. A friend that doesn't only talk about their problems, or try to control her.

Zoe pulls y/n up from the bench, tugging her towards the incoming group of soccer boys, and she notices Harry and Niall trailing behind them. They pass the group, that's all walking with similar limps, and Zoe launches herself at Niall as if they'd been apart for decades. Niall winces, stumbling on his tired legs but squeezes his girlfriend back.

"Why hello peanut," Harry greets, flushed cheeks sinking into two dimples, "what are you doing out here? Surrounded by all these boys?"

She blushes -for reasons unknown to her-and gently steps into his chest. "Waiting for you to walk me home, of course."

Harry slinks his arms around her, pressing a quick and chaste kiss to her mouth. Her blush deepens. "Yeah? Need your knight in shining armor to keep you safe from the harassment of smelly soccer bastards?"

"You do know that you're the 'smelly soccer bastard' that has been harassing me, right?"

Niall and Zoe both snicker making her grin proudly. Harry's smirk never falters, if anything it widens, and he gently butts his forehead against hers.

"Don't you forget it."

Eleanor sputters out water as Asteria finishes her story of the time Zayn let her pierce his ear, and Zoe and y/n burst into stronger giggles. Eleanor frantically grabs for a paper towel, face going red as she dabs at the drink spilt down her chin.

"Did Harry bring his stupid fr-oh."

Jess pauses in the entryway of the kitchen, lips pursing as she takes in the four girls sat around the island sharing a bag of Doritos. After meeting up with the boys, y/n and Zoe decided to get ready for the football game together at her place, inviting Asteria and Eleanor along too. They've all been invited to the party after, courtesy of their boyfriends-the word still makes y/n squeal-and figured they'd might as well hang out for a bit while the boys get washed up from practice.

"Harry's not here." Y/n says awkwardly, nervous under Jess' observing glare. Luckily, the other three girls aren't intimidated, heads high as they glare back.

"Okay," Jess looks at y/n, hands on her hips. "are you going to the game?"

She nods, noticing that Jess is dressed more for a day of shopping rather than a football game. She's wearing pristine white jeans with heels, a lacy top tucked into her bottoms, and her hair perfectly straight. "A-are you?"

"Yes, but I'm sitting with the girls so you should probably sit with them." Jess waves her hands at the girls behind y/n.

"She was planning on it honey." Asteria scoffs, making Eleanor and Zoe both giggle. Y/n is able to hold in her laugh, but she still smiles. Real friends. They're nice.

"Then I guess I'll see you tonight." Jess huffs, turning on her heel and clacking all the way to the front door. They wait for the sound of it closing to bust into giggles again. Zoe hunches over, clutching her stomach as she laughs and she knocks her knee into the counter. Her high pitched yelp makes them all laugh more, and y/n realizes this is the first time she's ever had one of those laughs with friends where you're really laughing just because they are. They're so distracted by giggles that they don't hear the front door open, nor the sound of four boys moving into the kitchen. Until Eleanor shoves herself off the counter, tripping on Asteria's stool.

"Louis!" She laughs again, falling in a heap at his feet. The girls manage to calm their hysterical laughs, y/n's side aching from the exertion.

"What's got you lot so worked up?" Louis chuckles, helping his girlfriend to her feet. She giggles, no shame present as she shares a kiss with him.

"We're just really fucking funny." Asteria smirks, flipping her black hair off her shoulder. Zayn slinks an arm over her shoulder, their hands linking together by her chest. Y/n hasn't officially met Zayn, but he seems nice for always being the quiet one of the frat house.

"We want to laugh." Harry whines with a pout, draping himself over her back. She's forced to hunch over under his weight, holding them both up with her elbows on the countertop.

"Well you missed it." Zoe teases, poking her tongue out at Harry. Y/n giggles at the wounded noise that leaves him, and he lifts himself off of her.

"Maybe next time you'll be here in time to see us embarrass your bitchy sister again." Asteria giggles, leaning further back into Zayn's chest. He smirks proudly at her, pressing his lips to the side of her head. Y/n thinks it's sweet how a boy as frightening as him can treat his girl so softly.

Harry's hands slip around y/n's stomach, leaning over her shoulder with a furrow between his eyebrows. "Was she giving you a hard time?" His warm breath tickles her ear, making her shy away with a giggle.

"Nothing she hasn't done before."

Harry's frown deepens at that. He knows that Jess has always taken y/n for granted. She could have the prettiest, smartest, funniest, most amazing girl as her best friend. Instead she chooses to make sure y/n is kept in her shell, always around to cater to Jess. He had never wanted to step in between them, hoping y/n would see for herself but after that day she was crying over book group, he couldn't take it.

"Doesn't make it right." Zoe reminds her, reaching past Harry's face to pat her cheek lovingly.

"I know," y/n assures, trying not to smile to widely. "that's why I've made better friends." By the way the other three girls smile, they know she means them. Harry thinks he could melt right then and there, seeing her laugh and smile and be rambunctious. She's turning into the person he always knew she could be, and all it took was one soccer game.

Glad that they're in the safety of their friends, he grips her chin and tilts her head unit he captures her lips in a kiss. He can't believe he survived so long without knowing what it felt like to have his mouth on hers. He swears he'll never forget it.

Y/n is drunk. Really drunk. And so is Harry, judging by the way they're practically carrying each other around the backyard. Harry finally convinced her to play a game of beer pong, and it turns out she's got pretty good aim. They won and decided to celebrate with a shot of tequila each because Harry swears it's his favorite drink.

They somehow get pulled into another game, this time against Zoe and Niall. Music blares from the speakers in the living room, flowing out into the backyard where groups have gathered to dance and drink. The beer pong table is set up in the far corner, hidden in a place y/n thought would be safe from Jess, Tina, and the little minions. She doesn't want to see her friend, doesn't want to be reminded that it feels like her high school years were wasted with such a bland friend. But apparently she's a magnet for the Styles DNA because Jess somehow struts out in the backyard just in time to see y/n and Harry win their second game of beer pong.

The group that has gathered around them cheers and hollers, the loudest being Louis and Eleanor, and Harry immediately tackles y/n into a hug. He lifts her up, the both of them giggling stupidly as he jumps in a group with his friends. Y/n wiggles out of his arms, stumbling into his side just as someone passes Harry a congratulatory drink. The cup gets bumped, it's contents spilling down her and Harry's shirt.

"I'm sorry Harry!" She gasps, pulling the wet fabric off his chest and squeezing the liquid out of it. Harry shivers but giggles, swatting her hand away.

"S'okay Peanut, m'fine." He promises, backing her away from the group with two hands on her waist. The party continues to move around them, y/n feeling dopey at his glossy eyes and flushed cheeks. "You're more messy than me. Gotta get you-"

"Y/n what are you doing?"

Harry's head snaps up at the sound of Jess' voice, y/n whirling around in his hold. Jess and her new friends have all moved to the porch, gathered around the fire pit. She notices they're all dressed similar, and they're sharing a bottle of champagne. Where did they get champagne from at a frat party?

"Hiya Jess!" Y/n giggles, Harry's warm hands tickling her sides now that her brain has actually registered their presence. Jess looks her up and down, eyes narrowing at the spill on her maroon shirt.

"Are you seriously drunk again?"

Harry jumps in before y/n can. "Are you seriously drinking champagne out of flutes? Where the fuck did ya get those?"

Jess shoots Harry an annoyed glare, but ignores his slurred comment. She takes a small step away from Tina, nose scrunching in disgust when she smells the alcohol on y/n. "Beer pong? You're not some raging frat guy y/n."

Y/n huffs, heart still registering her friend's harsh words despite how foggy her brain feels. "Who are you to tell me what I am? You meet Tina and now you're a fucking Popsicle."

Harry snorts from behind her, swaying on his feet and pushing her a step closer to Jess. The younger sibling rolls her eyes, blowing off y/n's insult. "And you're an embarrassment! You're a mess and you're acting stupid! This is why I can never take you anywhere or let you meet anyone worth a damn!"

Y/n stumbles back, feeling as if she's just been slapped. An embarrassment? Is that what Jess thinks she is? Who's the one wearing white jeans to a party? Who's carrying around a flute of champagne when this is clearly a cheap booze kind of place? Who's the one acting like a wannabe rich housewife? If anyone's the embarrassment it's Jess! But y/n can't say that. Because that's still her best friend. The girl she's shared so many years and so many memories with. The girl that kept her company through school and let her borrow her earrings. The girl that's always been like a sister to her.

"Jess that's enough!" Harry snaps, suddenly sounding more sober than he's been since they got back from the game. Jess opens her mouth, ready to sass Harry back but he's pushing y/n up the porch steps and shoving his sister out of the way. "I don't care how entitled you think you are, I won't let you be a bitch to y/n any longer."

Harry's always been good at pissing Jess off, but he's never spoken to her so harshly that she's been stunned into silence. Y/n feels dizzy as Harry leads through the house and up the staircase. An embarrassment? She didn't even do anything? She was just having fun? Why would Jess ever say that?

The second level of the house is a lot quieter than downstairs, the main noise being the muffled party sounds from below. Harry guides her down the hall. Throughout her friendship with Jess, y/n has always been the other. It's always Jess and y/n, not y/n and Jess. And she was fine with that because she had Jess. Yeah she could be a little mean sometimes, always bossing y/n around but it was good. They balanced each other out. But now...now she's just mean. It's like she doesn't even care about y/n.

"Aww peanut," Harry huffs, kicking his bedroom door shut behind him and locking it. After stumbling into his room after his first party to find a couple going at it on his desk, he always locks the door. "please don't cry."

Y/n sniffles, not even realizing she was crying until Harry said it. His words are like a nail in a cracked dam, y/n breaking into sobs and burrowing into his shoulder in embarrassment. Harry tightens his hold on her, not carrying that they're both covered in beer.

"I didn't mean to be embarrassing." She whimpers, crying even more when Harry shushes her. He strokes his fingers through her hair.

"You're not embarrassing peanut." He says firmly. "You're cute and you're funny and I was having so much fun with ya."

"I was having fun too!"

"I know, I know," he assures, pressing a tender kiss against her hairline. He lets her cry herself out, holding her tightly until she's nothing but puffy eyes and hiccups. "Lets get you clean clothes, hm?"

Y/n nods, peeling away from Harry's chest. She moves to sit on the bed but he stops her with two hands on her cheeks, thumbs swiping under her eyes. Her heart thumps loudly with the way he's looking at her, eyes gleaming with something she can't identify. It's like he's staring into her soul, everything she is, and not minding one bit of what he sees. Tears well up in her eyes again, this time for an entirely different reason.

"Even crying you're so beautiful." Harry whispers, lips quirking up when he sees a blush rise on her cheekbones. With a peck between her eyebrows, he nudges her to sit down and starts digging through his dresser.

Headache budding behind her eyes and body suddenly exhausted, y/n peels off her shoes as Harry gathers a shirt and sweatpants for her. "Can go change in there peanut." He coos, nodding towards the attached bathroom. She takes the clothes from him, closing the door. By the time she's changed and washed her face, Harry's changed into a pair of athletic shorts and a new shirt as well.

Her shirt gets tossed in Harry's wicker hamper, her jeans folded and placed on top of the stack of books on his desk. "Wanna stay the night?" Harry mumbles shyly, setting up Disney+ on his laptop. Y/n nods, a smile taking over her face as she knees her way into his unmade bed. Harry doesn't comment as he watches her arrange the pillows and straighten the blankets, but he does smile like a fool.

The intro of Lady and the Tramp starts playing, Harry shutting off his light as he slips into bed next to her. Y/n gladly snuggles into his side, head resting on his ribs as he runs his fingers up and down her spine. Not even five minutes in does she feel her eyes starting to droop, lazily looking around the room. She freezes when she spots a familiar poster hung up on the wall, the glitter on his name glinting in the moonlight coming from the window.

"You hung my poster up." Y/n mumbles sleepily, chest flooding with warmth. Harry doesn't skip a beat.

"Of course I did. My favorite person made it for me."

Now it's her smiling like a fool, finally letting her eyes slip shut. Half way to unconsciousness, she decides that she never wants to speak to Jess again.

#in the shadows #harry styles #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #one direction #harry styles au #frat boy harry styles #soccer harry #best friend's brother #forbidden love #college harry

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damfinofanfiction · 3 years

Text

Chapter 14: Hollywood or Bust...er.

Here’s the full and a update to the latest chapter! Just to let you know, having outlined the story for a while, things will get romantic in chapter 16 and will get naughty in chapter 20!!! I don't know if Chapter 14′s good enough but I did my best. Enjoy!

Another note is at the end of the chapter.

As stated in the article of a Local Paper; Five people hurt in a car crash. Two women and three men were involved in a low-rate car crash when they were driving from the Biltmore Hotel for the party in honor of Mack Sennett. There were no fatalities but there were some minor bruises and concussions. Ralph F. Staub, the driver of a T- Ford who suffered a broken nose, blamed the incident on bit player and former Sennett Bathing Beauty Gayle Anders for distracted driving. As a result of the impact, Miss Anders was reported to have injured her arm. While the others had slightly recovered and have been sent home, Anders will be on the mend for weeks following a release from the Good Samaritan Hospital this morning. Her recent project is Harold Lloyd’s upcoming film, The Freshman, due to be out this September. She remains hopeful to be back in the movies after her arm is fully recovered.

Having read this in his office, Buster shook his head in pity, with a notion that she might be unable to work with him. “Oh, Gail.”

**************************

Just as the evening began, Sally ran out of the Bungalow with the burning Trout on the casserole dish. Gail aired out the smoke by opening the windows. As a last resort, she threw the fish from the dish on the ground and used the gravel dug from the area to extinguish the small flames.

“Damn it,” Sally said examining the crisp charred remains after putting it out. She turned to her friend, “Sorry Bae, guess I underestimated the baking time.”

Gail added disappointedly, "And it was a nice fish."

Since Gail came home from the hospital, it wasn’t easy for her to live with a broken humerus. Sally offered to help on the days it doesn’t intervene with her job. Not only the blonde did it out of loyalty but also as a amend to what happened last month.

Upon going inside, Sally threw away the ruined casserole dish and comforted Gail who hunched in despair, “Buck up, We’ll still have dinner. If only Auntie isn’t out playing bridge and Bertha didn’t take a day off.” Bertha, that she referred to was her and Lenore’s Maid.

When the Friends decided on take-out, Sally left to pick up the food while Gail stayed behind because she didn't feel comfortable going out in her state. As the table was already set in advance, the dark-haired woman was left to retreat to her couch and wrapped herself in a blanket because she felt a breeze from the open window.

Gail wasn't feeling herself after the accident in the past week. It was like grief. She barely slept the night, has a small appetite, doesn't smile much, and doesn't say much. Although she has endured a series of unfortunate events for the last few months, breaking her arm was difficult to cope with. Gail tried to sob and cry to let it out of her system, but couldn't do it. That didn't stop her from trying again while she was alone.

Her attempts to release her emotions were interrupted when she noticed a shadow passing by from the front window, "Sal?" she called.

A male baritone voice replied, “Close enough.”

She sat up straight when he swayed to the window, revealing his familiar face, “Buster!”

He chuckled while resting his arms on the windowsill, “Good seeing you too. You seem well.”

Gail would ask him how did he found her site but remembered she had sent him an updated resume with a change of address recently. She nervously said, "I didn't expect you to show up."

He sighed, “I know, I should have told you I was coming, but work was finished early and I thought you could go for a surprise.” Gail found it funny that the last time she had seen him was when he rode with her so she could get home safely and now he was at her window unannounced. He asked, “So are you going to let me in or should I climb through the window?”

“Oh!” She hastily sat up and opened the door and let Keaton in to avoid being mistaken for a break-in if he had entered through the window. After having received flowers and get-well cards from friends and family, she was grateful for a visitor. When she opened the door, he was wearing a hazel suit with a white buttoned shirt underneath and a grey flat cap. He coughed in response to the smoke when he was in a kitchen area.

“Sorry, Sally burnt our dinner.” She explained while closing the door and the window curtains, “She had doused the fire out on the yard.”

“That explains the black mark out on the yard,” he pulled out a handkerchief from his shirt pocket to cover his mouth.

Gail retreated to her bedroom where she traded the blanket for her light blue buttoned sweater while Buster looked around. She called to him, “I guess you must have read about the accident in the papers?”

He responded, “Yes, though they didn’t get your name right.”

Gail intended to write a note to Buster about what happened to her but didn’t have any idea what to say as evidence of the trash bin full of the crumpled-up papers by her bed. “Well, the reporter was in a rush and didn’t have time to correct my name anyhow.”

Then Gail checked herself in the mirror. Her sleeveless day dress was alright. The curls on her locks were uneven, but she didn't mind because he had seen her unkempt hair on the train. Her makeup wasn’t too bad either, grateful that Sally had helped her earlier that day, otherwise, she couldn't do it with one arm. She only reapplied her lipstick before returning to the comedian.

“So this must be your new home,” Buster said as he sat on the armchair while she returned to her couch.

“I came across it in a newspaper. I found the name of the street familiar because I used to go around looking for a part in the pictures.”

“Had the others moved here as well?” he asked.

“No, just me. Sally’s only a helper. She tried her best and I’m grateful for that." Gail turned to the door, “Now I'm worried how she'll react to you once she gets back.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

She leaned towards him, “No no no, unless you have to go home.”

“No, I could stay for a bit at least before your other friend arrives.” it was then Gail noticed that her sling and cast were exposed from her opened sweater and tugged it back in due to her insecurity. From the look on Buster's face, it was obvious he had seen it before, no doubt from peeping at her while she was in the other room, “How long until your arm gets better?”

She was nervous to tell him but does so anyway, “If healed properly, the cast will be removed in a month. I may still wear a sling in addition to physical therapy."

“I’m awfully sorry that happened to you. At least it isn't the ankle.”

“Oh yeah, it happened to you.” Gail had almost forgotten of his injury some years ago before he brought it up.

“How could I forget?” He rested his foot to his knee to massage that very ankle, “There’s a scene from The Electric House where I ran on the moving staircase. That one step caught my slap shoe and before the stagehands could turn off the switch, my foot was dragged to the top, and the next thing I knew, my ankle was fractured.”

“That’s sounded awful,” Her voice was sympathetic.

“Yes, it was. I thought I was going to lose my foot, but thankfully I haven’t. Had to be out of commission for several weeks. They put me on bed rest, at least you can still move around. So anyway, long after my ankle is healed, we threw out the footage and started over.”

“When do you start filming?” What Gail knew from what he wrote to her weeks ago was that the production of Battling Butler was delayed until the end of the year and will be making an original story instead. Also, he’ll be working with a cow to which she thought was too ridiculous, if it wasn't a western.

He explained, “When we find a location for shooting and get everything ready, hopefully in June.”

Gail felt relieved, “Then, do I have a chance to be your co-star?”

He uncrossed his legs, “Well, About that.” Seeing his sullen look, Gail’s heart began to sink as it might be another case of the bad news.

It seemed he couldn’t find the words when he told her, “My boss Joe didn’t want me to hire you.” He sighed, “And he recommended me an actress from Dick Turpin, Kathleen Myers.” He assured her after she turned her face away from him, “It had nothing to do with your injury. It’s just that he preferred someone with experience as a leading lady.”

Gail felt sadness welling up in her throat and clenched her fist, “No, It’s definitely something to do with my arm!” She attempted to retreat to her bedroom, but being blinded by her tears caused her to collapse to her knees, and then she wept heavily. Her sobs made it impossible for her to hear Buster come up to her before he aided her to the dining table. She exclaimed, not making eye contact with the stone face, “I knew it, I knew it! I should’ve left home years ago, but I waited and waited for a chance to take me away like a chump I am!”

“You’re not a chump!”

“You don’t know that! I promised myself I would work with you, but I failed!” There were whimpers in her voice, “I couldn’t get cast in a cast!”

Keaton defended her, “It was only an accident.”

A teardrop ran across her cheek, “Which should I have prevented! This wouldn’t have happened if I was more careful.”

Her body shook as she cried again. Initially, Gail expected Buster to leave her to mourn, then she felt his hand rub on her back, then his arm wrapped around her, enabling her to huddle in for an embrace. With a scent of his cologne coming from between his shoulder and neck, her sobs became softer before they’re diminished. He patted her back a bit. She heard him say, “Gail, I wanted to work with you, I really have. Things aren’t always simple in Hollywood.”

She faced him again. He gave her his handkerchief when she began to rub her eyes. He brought her a glass of water from the dining table which he just filled up.

“Look at me”, he continued, “It took me three years in the film business before I started leading and directing comedies. How long you’ve been working on screen?”

She answered, “A year and a half.”

“That doesn’t seem so bad,” he placed his hand onto her cheek. “I’m sure things will turn out alright as soon as your arm heals. There’s still hope for us to work together once Schenck sees what you can do.”

With a sniff, she added, “And there’s still Battling Butler.”

“Yup that too.” he gave her a slight grin.

As she finished wiping her tears, Gail noticed the black smudges on his handkerchief “Have I messed up my makeup?” He responded with another nod. “Excuse me”, she got up to the countertop and brought out the bottle of olive oil, a remedy for running mascara.

He told her with the cloth in his hand, “Allow me”

He added a dab of oil to his handkerchief and rubbed it onto her cheeks until they were clear.

“I might have unraveled your hair.” She pointed to the wavy part of his hair “Probably right there” she rose her right hand by his forehead, having her twirl the curl with her finger, “Perfect.” she said after stopping. Their eyes were fixated on each other. It was like that until they heard the key going in followed by the doorknob turning, the two then raced back to their respective seats.

Sally announced while opening the door and holding the big brown bag, “Hey Bae, took me longer to reach that take-out place, better to chow down while the food’s still hot.”

Gail was in her upright posture like nothing had happened, “Sal there’s a visitor.”

The blonde turned to Keaton who had just finished combing his hair, “Oh, shi-” She exclaimed, almost dropping the contents of the bag. Gail stood up to explain that the visit was a surprise to her as well and they were just talking in a professional matter. Buster also got up just to notify them he had to get home since it was almost six o'clock.

he turned to Gail, “One thing before I go, have you seen The Iron Mule?”

“No”

“My pal Roscoe actually directed it with a different name. It features someone I worked with back in the day and also watch out for that Indian.” he pointed to her, “You might find him familiar.”

she smiled, “Thank you for the visit.”

When he turned the doorknob and opened the door she just remembered something, "Wait!," She pulled out a notepad from the side table, wrote down her phone number, and tore it out to hand to Keaton. “No surprise visits next time. Okay?”

Buster nodded once, “Take care” he put on his hat and left her home as she waved.

Sally shrugged at her friend, “How the hell did he know where you live?”

She helped her unpack the take-out containers from the bag, “I’ll tell you over dinner and you owe me a dish.”

Gail was herself again, though embarrassed that she vented her emotions to her favorite comedian. What made her feel better wasn't the crying, but finding comfort in the object of her affection.

(sorry, I posted to my other account. I deleted it though.)

Note: I have to thank @trainrideswithbuster for giving me the idea that buster visits Gail while on the mend!

#buster keaton fanfiction #buster #Buster Keaton #busterkeaton #buster fic #buster keaton fandom #actor RPF #silent comedy

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calumcest · 4 years

Text

taking the long way home

[ao3]

“May we have your attention for flight BA8227,” the tinny voice of the announcement says, and Ashton’s stomach sinks. They never announce anything he wants to hear; there’s never any we’ve upgraded hardworking and broke session drummer Ashton Irwin to first class, he’s also been given unlimited air miles and a refund on his overpriced tuna melt. “We are sorry to announce that this flight is delayed by approximately seven hours. This is due to unforeseen adverse weather conditions. I repeat-”

aka their flight is delayed au

Ashton Irwin does not, repeat not, like flying.

He thinks it’s a perfectly rational thing to dislike. He’s not afraid, by any means – it’s just such an inefficient way of getting anywhere. He’ll spend an hour getting to the airport in order to be two hours early for his three hour flight, and then spend another hour on the other end getting to wherever he actually needed to go because airports are never anywhere convenient. Not to mention the patting down he inevitably gets at security, the fifteen minute wait for them to check whether or not the dark shadow in his bag is a tube of lip balm or a stick of dynamite, and the ridiculous price of the lunch he’s forced to buy in Duty Free. All of that would perhaps, perhaps, be just about tolerable, if his flights were ever on fucking time.

So far, however, Ashton’s day is running fairly smoothly. He’d not even been ‘randomly selected’ at security for a pat down, and the lady in Costa had taken pity on him when he was fumbling with his coins (seriously, why the fuck are five-pence coins so small?) and given him his tuna melt panini for ten pence less than he owed. He’d even made it to his gate an hour before departure time, picking the most strategically placed seat so he can jump up and join the queue as soon as boarding is announced. All in all, Ashton’s having the most bearable day he could possibly have in an airport.

The universe, however, seems to have other plans. Despite it being January, despite the weather forecast saying it might snow, as soon as a single snowflake hits the runway, the entire fucking airport loses its shit. Flight after flight gets cancelled, delayed until the morning, and the airport is suddenly filling up as people aren’t getting on their flights. Ashton’s flight makes it all the way until half an hour before boarding is supposed to start, keeping Ashton’s hopes high, when-

Great. Fucking great. Not like Ashton has places to be, people to see, a life to live, a home he would like to get back to before the age of ninety. It’s already eleven p.m.; if Ashton’s rudimentary maths is accurate, his flight won’t be departing until nine a.m., if at all (he adds a few hours onto the delay, because he knows better than to trust airlines).

Groaning, he drags himself out of his well-selected seat and over to the information desk, where a small crowd is starting to gather, jostling impatiently to try and hear what the one harassed-looking employee is saying to the man at the front of the queue.

“Can you fucking believe this?” the guy behind Ashton grumbles. He’s got a familiar Aussie twang, but Ashton doesn’t even turn around to bond with him – testament to how bad of a mood he’s in.

“Yes,” Ashton says darkly. “It’s a fucking airline.”

“Fair point,” the guy says. “Reckon they’ll have any hotel rooms left? We must be the ninetieth flight delayed because of adverse weather conditions.”

“I’d rather take the extra compensation money and sleep on my suitcase,” Ashton says. The guy behind him laughs.

“Need the money?” he says, sympathetically. “I’ve been there, mate. What do you do?”

“I drum,” Ashton says. “Session musician.”

“Sweet,” the guy says. “I play guitar. Session musician, too, but my band’s trying to make it.”

“Oh?” Ashton says, interest finally piqued enough to turn around and get a good look at the guy. He’s about Ashton’s age, maybe a little younger, with a long, sweeping blonde fringe that Ashton’s impressed managed to cling on through to the 2020s.

“Yeah,” the guy says. “Heading out to LA to record. You?”

“I was here to record,” Ashton says, and then they’re interrupted by a tall guy rushing up, clutching a duffel bag in his arms.

“Sorry, Mike,” the guy says, slightly breathless. “The toilet’s a fucking mile away, and possibly in another dimension.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the fringe-owner (Mike?) says, rolling his eyes. “Hey, I’ve made a friend. He’s Australian and a session musician too. I’m considering replacing you with him.”

“Ashton,” Ashton says, nodding at both Mike and New Guy. He does a (subtle) double-take when he properly looks at New Guy, because Christ, he is fucking gorgeous. He’s got blonde hair that curls beautifully in the way that Ashton’s never managed to get own hair to, baby-blue eyes that blink at him from under dark, inky lashes, and a dimple on one side of the lips he’s currently biting.

Well. Consider Ashton fucked.

“Michael,” Mike says, nodding back. “And this is Luke.”

“Hi,” Luke says. “Sorry, I swear I’m not queue-jumping.”

“Wouldn’t matter to me if you were,” Ashton says. “You’re behind me.”

“You’re not very principled,” Luke says. Ashton shrugs.

“Never claimed to be,” he says.

“Ashton wants to sleep on his suitcase,” Michael informs Luke.

“I said the same thing,” Luke says. “I need the money.”

“I want a bed,” Michael says.

“You just want somewhere without me to call Calum,” Luke says accusingly.

“Can you blame me?” Michael says. “I’ve got to spend an extra seven hours with you now. Hey, maybe Ashton’ll take you off my hands.”

“No can do,” Ashton says, although his dick very much thinks yes, please, it would be my honour. “I need my beauty sleep.” Luke frowns.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” he says, slightly petulantly. Michael pats him on the shoulder.

“Of course not, babe,” he says patronisingly. “Hey, Ashton, you’re next.” Ashton turns around, surprised at how fast the queue has moved, to see he is indeed the next person in the queue.

“Good evening, sir,” the lady says, tiredly, when Ashton slaps his ticket down on the counter. Ashton feels a stab of pity for her. It’s not her fault that airlines are determined to suck the joy out of life.

“I want the compensation money,” he says, figuring it’s best to cut to the chase.

“Thank goodness,” the lady says, scanning his ticket, “because we don’t have any hotel rooms left.

“Hear that?” Ashton hears Luke say to Michael.

“Yeah, Luke, I’m stood just as far away as you,” Michael tells Luke.

“Right,” Ashton says. “Is the flight actually going to leave tomorrow?”

“Not a clue,” the lady says, tapping away on her keyboard. “The money will be in your account in three business days, Mr Irwin.”

“Thanks,” Ashton says, picking up his suitcase and ticket and moving to the side to put his ticket and passport away.

(And yeah, maybe he fiddles a little more than strictly necessary with his suitcase, zipping and unzipping it a few times for no reason, until Luke and Michael finish with the customer service lady. It doesn’t mean anything.)

“…might not even be into guys, Mike, oh my God, fucking stop, stop,” he hears Luke hiss, sounding like he’s pleading, and he looks up from his suitcase to see Michael heading towards him with Luke trailing behind.

“Well?” Michael prompts, when they get to Ashton. Ashton looks at him questioningly, wondering whether he was supposed to overhear and comment on whatever Luke was talking about. “You’re going to spend the night with us, right? Us Aussies have to stick together. I can’t leave you on your own with British people in good conscience. Plus, I want to call my boyfriend, and I need someone to look after Luke.”

“I’m fucking twenty-three,” Luke says. “I can look after myself.”

“You left your passport in the hotel,” Michael says.

“Yeah, and then I remembered that I forgot it,” Luke says.

“Once you got to the airport.”

“So? Our flight’s got a seven hour delay,” Luke says. Michael rolls his eyes.

“I’m going to call Calum,” he says. “You two find somewhere nice and cosy for us to sleep tonight. Pick the best chairs.” Without waiting for a response, he strides off, phone already in his hand.

Great. Now Ashton’s stuck with possibly the most gorgeous man he’s ever seen, and he’s in a terrible mood so he can’t even flirt.

“Sorry about him,” Luke says, and he does actually sound sorry. He’s worrying the bottom corner of his lip with his teeth, and Ashton wonders absent-mindedly whether there’s a cause behind that particular nervous tic. “You don’t have to stay with me. I mean, like, obviously not, you don’t even know me. Michael’s just…like that.”

“Don’t worry,” Ashton assures him, because something in his gut is screaming that he really, really does want to stay with Luke. “I could use the company.”

“I thought you wanted to sleep…?” Luke trails off.

“Who ever gets what they fucking want in an airport?” Ashton says, and Luke laughs, laughs, and Ashton’s stomach flips in a way that’s nearly pleasant and almost-probably isn’t to do with the tuna melt he ate earlier. He resolves to try and make Luke laugh as much as possible for the next seven-plus hours. “Let’s find some good seats to hog before the rest of the flights tonight get cancelled.” Luke nods, biting his lip again, and grabs his and Michael’s bags, following in Ashton’s wake.

Ashton, for all of his hatred of airports, is a master at finding the perfect seats, so it’s really no surprise when he spots a secluded little square of seats tucked away behind a wall that looks like it’s a dead end but isn’t. He’s kind of proud, though, when Luke makes a noise of surprise and approval, and tries not to let it go to his head.

(He doesn’t succeed.)

“Mike’ll be gone for, like, three hours at the very least,” Luke says apologetically. Good, Ashton wants to say. Get you all to myself. Sounds a bit serial-killer, though, when he thinks about it, so he doesn’t.

“His boyfriend?” he enquires, hoping it’s coming off very much as I, too, am interested in having a boyfriend and not a man with a boyfriend? What is the world coming to? Luke nods, so Ashton reckons he got close enough.

“Yeah,” Luke says, a small smile forming on his lips. “Calum. They’ve been together as long as I’ve known them.”

“How long’s that?” Ashton asks, curious.

“Ten years? Something like,” Luke says. Ashton whistles.

“That’s a long time for someone your age,” he says. Luke makes a small noise of outrage.

“My age?” Luke says indignantly. “You’re what, like, twenty-six?”

“Twenty-five,” Ashton corrects. “See? I said I needed my beauty sleep.” Luke scowls, but it’s good-natured.

They busy themselves with getting comfortable for a few minutes. Ashton leaves the seats by the window that’ll get draughty in the morning for Michael (first come first served, he thinks) and picks the row opposite Luke to stretch out on, kicking off his shoes and using his backpack as a pillow. From the corner of his eye, he sees Luke take a travel pillow and thin blanket out of his duffel bag, and for some reason Ashton’s heart decides that’s the cutest thing Luke’s done so far tonight.

“So, where in Australia are you from?” Luke asks, fluffing up the tiny pillow as best he can.

“Sydney,” Ashton says. “You?”

“No way,” Luke says, turning around to face Ashton. “Me too!” He sounds so excited that Ashton doesn’t have the heart to point out that it’s not that surprising, given Sydney has a fifth of Australia’s population.

“Whereabouts?” Ashton asks, hoping it’s not coming off as stalker-esque.

“Western Sydney,” Luke says, swinging his legs up and lying down on his row of seats. “Like, Oakville kind of area?”

“No way,” Ashton says, because that is a little bit more exciting than simply being from the same massive city. “I’m from Richmond.”

“That’s so weird,” Luke says happily. “What are the odds of bumping into someone else from western Sydney in Heathrow Airport?”

“Well, you’re here with Michael, aren’t you?” Ashton says, lying down and arranging his coat over himself.

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t be bumping into him,” Luke says. Then, as though the thought’s just struck him, he adds- “Hey, he said you play?” Ashton nods.

“Yeah, drums,” he says. “I can play guitar and a little bit of piano, too, but drums are my main love.” Luke grins, eyes crinkling around the corners, making Ashton’s stomach swoop.

“That’s fucking sick,” Luke tells him, and he sounds so earnest that Ashton actually believes that this random guy thinks Ashton’s ability to hit a drum with a stick is cool. “Our band needs a drummer, actually. I bet Michael’ll try and recruit you.”

“I don’t know,” Ashton says, pretending to muse. “My going rate is pretty high.”

“Oh?” Luke says. “Will ten pounds and a can of coke do?”

“I’ll do it for just the can of coke,” Ashton says, and Luke grins again. Ashton thinks it’s pretty unfair of the universe to present him with such a beautiful, out-of-his-league man when he’s tired and grumpy, so not up to his best conversation. If this were any other situation, Ashton would be wooing Luke so hard he’d put Romeo to shame.

“I’m going to try and sleep,” Ashton says. I want to try and be in a better mood tomorrow morning so I can flirt with you and possibly suck your dick, he adds mentally, just in case Luke can read minds. Luke just nods solemnly.

“Good luck,” he says.

“I’m going to need it,” Ashton tells him, flashing him a quick smile before closing his eyes. He hears Luke sigh, shuffle a little under his thin blanket, and peeks out of one eye to see him stretching. His phone, clutched in his left hand, clatters to the floor.

“Oops,” Luke says, blushing slightly as he twists around to pick it up and inspect it for damage. His shirt rides up a little, just enough for Ashton to see a sliver of smooth, pale skin on his hip. Ashton squeezes his eyes shut again.

God. He is so fucked.

-------

Ashton actually manages to drift off into an uneasy sleep, much to his surprise. When he’s pulled back into consciousness, far too soon for his liking, it’s to the low sound of people talking quietly.

“…number,” someone’s saying.

“I’m not doing that, Michael!” someone else says, voice almost squeaky with indignance.

“Why not?” the first person (Michael, Ashton’s sleepy brain supplies), says.

“Because!” the second person (Luke, Ashton thinks) says.

“What are you, four?” Michael scoffs. “That’s not a valid reason. I’ll give it to him.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Luke says.

“C’mon, Luke, what’ve you got to lose?” Michael says. “You’re never going to see him again.”

“My dignity,” Luke says pointedly. “Not that you’d know what that is.”

“You’re right,” Michael says agreeably, “so I’ll give it to him.”

“No!” Luke squawks, and it’s loud enough that Ashton opens his eyes. Both Michael and Luke, sat upright on their rows of seats, turn to look at him, Luke with a guilty look on his face, Michael unreadable.

“Morning,” Michael says.

“Time’s it?” Ashton mumbles. It’s still dark outside.

“Four,” Michael says, and Ashton groans, letting his eyes fall shut again.

“Fuck,” he says.

“Hey, at least you slept,” Michael says.

“Did you not?” Ashton asks.

“Luke did,” Michael says, nodding at Luke, who smiles bashfully back at him. “And now he’s hungry.”

“I can speak for myself, y’know,” Luke informs Michael, before turning to Ashton. “I am hungry, though.”

“Want to spend your entire life savings on a disappointing sandwich?” Ashton offers. “I’ll join.”

“Sure,” Luke says. “Mikey…?” Michael throws him a meaningful look, and shakes his head.

“Nah,” he says. “I’ll stay here, guard your precious little pillow.”

“Hey,” Luke says, pointing at Michael. “My little pillow helped me sleep.”

“Ashton slept without one,” Michael says.

“I don’t think my neck appreciated it, though,” Ashton says, sitting up and cracking his neck from side to side, making Luke wince.

“D’you want anything?” Luke asks Michael.

“A chocolate brownie, if you find anywhere that sells them,” Michael says. “And for you to-”

“Alright,” Luke says loudly, sounding slightly panicked.

“-fuck off,” Michael finishes, throwing Luke another indecipherable look.

“Chocolate brownie,” Luke repeats. “Got it.” Ashton swings his legs out from under his coat, feeling the sudden loss of heat, and shrugs his coat back over his shoulders.

“C’mon,” he says. “Let’s see where we can waste our money at three in the morning.”

-------

They scour the entire terminal, but the only place that seems to be open and worth going to is Caffè Nero.

“Yet another overpriced panini,” Ashton mutters, staring at their selection in distaste.

“Not necessarily,” Luke points out. “You could go for an overpriced toastie.”

“Or treat myself to an overpriced salad,” Ashton agrees.

“I’m getting paid soon, so I’m going for a toastie,” Luke says, grabbing a ham and cheese toastie from the fridge.

“I just fucking love tuna,” Ashton says, grabbing another tuna melt. “Is it too early for a coffee? I’ll be wired for the whole flight and crash as soon as I land.”

“Too early for a coffee,” Luke tells him. “Get some chocolate instead.”

“What about a coffee and chocolate?” Ashton probes. Luke shakes his head.

“Chocolate,” he says firmly. Ashton mock-scowls, sighs dramatically, and goes up to order. He gets a hot chocolate, which is hot like coffee but chocolate like Luke told him, and a bag of crisps to wash down his tuna melt.

“Eat in or take away?” the guy taking his order asks. Ashton throws a glance at Luke.

“Take away,” Luke says. “Cheaper.”

“Good point,” Ashton says, turning back to the guy at the till. “Take away.”

“We can find somewhere to sit without Michael,” Luke says. “He hates the smell of tuna.” Ashton tries to ignore the way his stomach flips at the easy we, and the fact that Luke’s willing to sit with Ashton, a total stranger, rather than going back to his friend of a decade.

(He fails miserably.)

Luke gets two chocolate brownies, the fancy hot chocolate that Ashton wanted but his bank account didn’t, a can of coke and a bag of crisps on top of his ham and cheese toastie. They make idle chat while waiting for their food, and then find a little corner of the deserted terminal to sit down and start eating.

“God, I forgot how good a simple toastie can be,” Luke says, eyes fluttering shut in bliss as he takes his first bite. Ashton’s dick’s interest is piqued.

“Who’d’ve known that heating up ham, cheese and bread can make such a difference?” Ashton muses, taking a bite out of his own tuna melt. Not as good as Costa, he thinks, but better than Pret.

“We’ve got a toastie maker at home, but we never use it,” Luke says, and Ashton’s heart sinks. We. Of course Luke’s taken; how the fuck could he not be? He’s possibly a demi-god, that’s how attractive he is – there’s no way someone like that stays single.

“Oh?” Ashton says, trying not to let the disappointment leak into his voice. “Your girlfriend want more adult food than toasties?” Luke looks at him, startled.

“Girlfriend?” he says. Yeah, Ashton’s not exactly subtle when he’s tired.

“Well, I-” Luke cuts him off with a small, shy smile.

“I don’t, uh, really swing that way?” Luke says, as though it’s a question, and Ashton’s stomach uncurls a little.

“Oh,” he says. “Good. I mean. Me either.”

“Oh,” Luke says, smile getting bigger. “And, just for the record, I don’t, um, have a boyfriend, either. Not that I’m- I’m not trying to- like, I live with Michael and Calum, so.” He shrugs, looking away, and Ashton sees a fierce blush creeping up his cheeks. He desperately wants to kiss Luke.

“Wow,” Ashton says, when he remembers to respond. “That can’t be fun.”

“Fucking isn’t,” Luke mumbles around his toastie. He swallows, clears his throat, and then adds: “Well, mostly it’s great. Until they start fucking.” Ashton chokes on his bite of tuna melt, and through his splutters he sees a coquettish look on Luke’s face.

“You don’t have to listen, you know,” Ashton says, when he recovers.

“I don’t,” Luke assures him, finishing off his toastie and starting on his crisps. “I cycle very loudly through a playlist called Worst Songs To Have Sex To.”

“What’s on it?” Ashton asks, curious.

“Oh, you know,” Luke says, grinning. “Cotton Eye Joe, What Does The Fox Say, nursery rhymes, that sort of thing.” Ashton snorts.

“Fucking hell,” he says. “I don’t think I’d be able to have sex through that.”

“Well, either Cal and Mike are into some weird shit, or the walls are thicker on their end than mine,” Luke says. Ashton doesn’t have the heart to point out that that doesn’t make sense.

“You should play the same songs every time,” Ashton suggests. “Pavlov them into getting hard whenever they hear Row, Row, Row Your Boat.” Luke bursts out laughing.

“Fuck,” he says, through giggles. “I’m absolutely going to do that.” Ashton grins, a warmth growing in the pit of his stomach at the fact that he’s made Luke laugh like that.

“Or just have really loud sex back,” he says, and Luke’s giggles still.

“Well,” he says awkwardly. “I, like. Don’t really get to do a lot of that.” He’s blushing again, and Ashton cocks his head.

“Really?” he says.

“Really,” Luke says.

“You must have people throwing themselves at you,” Ashton says, and Luke bites his lip, shakes his head. “You’re fucking lying, Luke. Come on, look at you. Not getting laid, I get, no shame, that’s your choice, but not having the opportunity? I’m not buying that.” Luke shakes his head again, almost shy.

“Not really a lot of people’s type,” he says, and it sounds kind of sad. Ashton wants to kiss Luke, hold him in his arms, and also fucking kill whoever’s made Luke think that way.

“You’re kidding,” Ashton says flatly. “Luke, you’re the most-” he cuts himself off, because most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen in my entire twenty-five years of life is probably coming on a bit too strong. “You’re fucking stunning, Luke. You’re stunning, and you’re funny, and you’re cute. What’s not to like?”

“I don’t know,” Luke mumbles into his hot chocolate. “Maybe it’s because I’m shy. Guys like confident men.”

“Not all guys. I don’t,” Ashton says, without thinking. Luke looks up at him, blue eyes unreadable under his inky eyelashes.

“Yeah?” Luke says, quiet, and definitely shy.

“Yeah,” Ashton says boldly, thinking fuck it, why the fuck not? If this goes badly, he’s never going to see Luke again, is he? You miss a hundred percent of the shots you miss, or whatever that saying is. “Luke, you’re, like. The cutest guy I’ve ever seen. I’d date you in a heartbeat.”

“You would?” Luke asks.

“I would,” Ashton says. A small smile creeps onto Luke’s face.

“Oh,” he says.

“Yeah,” Ashton says, feeling a little awkward now. “So, like. Yeah.” Luke smiles at him, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Well, we’re both going to be in LA, aren’t we?” he says, sounding nervous. Ashton opens his mouth to respond – yes, that tends to be what happens when two people both get on a flight to LA – before his brain catches up with him, realises what Luke may potentially be hinting at.

But surely not, right? Not with Ashton.

“Are you asking me out?” Ashton asks. Luke looks away.

“Not really,” he says. “I’m- I might be, uh, asking you to ask me out, though.”

God. Ashton’s never met anyone so endearing in his fucking life.

“Let me take you to dinner,” Ashton says, finally, when it’s sunk in enough that Luke, Luke, the six-foot-three deity of pure, unadulterated sex and charm wants Ashton to ask him out. “Well, maybe not dinner, unless it’s in, like, two weeks, when I get paid. Maybe, like, a coffee. Or I could cook you dinner at my flat. I’m a good cook, and I promise I’m not a murderer.” Luke laughs again.

“Dinner at yours sounds good,” he says, grinning.

“Well,” Ashton says, finishing off the last of his hot chocolate. “I never thought I’d say this, but thank fucking God my flight got delayed.”

Luke’s answering smile makes Ashton feel slightly giddy.

-------

When they get back to Michael about an hour later, the sky is starting to brighten, and Michael’s fast asleep, having stolen Luke’s pillow.

“The bastard,” Luke says in a low voice, pointing it out to Ashton as he sets the brownie down carefully next to Michael. “What if I wanted to sleep?”

“Given that our flight’s leaving in, like, two hours, I think you’re a bit fucked on that front,” Ashton says.

“Don’t underestimate me,” Luke says. “I can fall asleep anywhere.”

“Perks of living such an extravagant, jetsetting lifestyle,” Ashton says solemnly, and Luke snorts.

“There have to be some perks in commuting from London to LA,” he says. “I’ll have to sleep on the flight.”

“Ooh, no,” Ashton says, wincing. “You can’t sleep on the flight. You’ll wake up after an hour and a half of unsatisfying sleep with a bad taste in your mouth and a stiff neck.”

“True,” Luke says, “but we’re supposed to have band practice today.”

“You practice out there?” Ashton asks.

“Yeah,” Luke says. “Cal’s already out there – he’s been recording bass for some ska band – so Michael and I are meeting up with him this afternoon for practice.”

“How do you practice without a drummer?” Ashton wants to know.

“GarageBand,” Luke says, and Ashton winces.

“Oh, no,” he says, emphatically. “I can’t be having my beloved instrument reduced to GarageBand.”

“Hey,” Luke says, mock-affronted. “GarageBand comes a lot cheaper than drummers.”

“Cheaper than a can of coke?” Ashton asks, grinning. Luke grins back, and then looks like he’s suddenly been struck by inspiration.

“Hey, wait-” he fumbles around in his bag for a few seconds, and then tosses the can of coke he’d bought earlier at Ashton.

“You’re in the band now,” he says. “I hope you’re good.” Ashton laughs.

“I might only be worth a diet coke,” he tells Luke, pocketing the coke.

“Hey,” another voice says sleepily – Michael. “Where’m I?”

“Airport, Mike,” Luke says patiently.

“Oh,” Michael says, rubbing his eyes. “Where’s Cal?”

“In LA,” Luke says.

“Oh,” Michael says, sounding a little sad.

“That’s where we’re heading,” Luke reassures him.

“Oh,” Michael says, a little happier, dragging himself into a seated position. He rubs his eyes, again, and then blinks at them blearily. “You’re Ashton,” he says to Ashton.

“I am,” Ashton says.

“You’re a drummer,” Michael says.

“I am,” Ashton says.

“You should join our band,” Michael says.

“I have,” Ashton says.

“What?” Michael says. Ashton holds up the can of coke.

“My payment,” he explains. “Meet the new drummer of-”

“5 Seconds of Summer,” Luke supplies.

“-5 Seconds of Summer,” Ashton finishes.

“I don’t even know your last name,” Michael says.

“I don’t know yours either,” Ashton says.

“Clifford,” Michael says.

“Irwin,” Ashton says.

“Like Steve Irwin?” Ashton groans.

“Yes, like Steve Irwin, no, I’m not his son, not at all related, don’t even like animals that much,” he says.

“Are you good?” Michael asks, disregarding Ashton entirely.

“I mean, I’m a session drummer,” Ashton says. “Draw your own conclusions.”

“Great,” Michael says happily. “We have practice this afternoon.”

“I already told him,” Luke says, and turns to Ashton. “Three p.m. I’ll pick you up.” Ashton grins at him, butterflies in his stomach.

“You’re going to have to give him your number, then, Ashton,” Michael says, watching the interaction between the two of them.

“I probably should,” Ashton agrees, holding his hand out for Luke’s phone. Luke passes it to him, and Ashton types in his number, saving himself as Better Drummer Than Garageband.

“Thank fuck,” Michael says, “because he’s been wanting to give it to you all evening. He thinks you’re cute.”

“You’re behind the times, Mikey,” Luke says. “We’re going on a date.”

“I’m cooking him dinner,” Ashton tells Michael.

“What the fuck?” Michael demands. “When was this decided?”

“When you were sleeping,” Luke says. “On my pillow, by the way.”

“It’s so fucking small,” Michael says, chucking it at Luke, before rounding on Ashton. “I can’t believe I missed you asking Luke on a date. I’m never sleeping again.” Ashton’s saved from answering by an announcement cutting through loudly on the speakers.

“May I have your attention for flight BA8227,” a lady says. “This flight is now ready for boarding for rows twenty through thirty-one.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” Ashton says, shoving his things haphazardly into his backpack. “Where are you guys sat?”

“Uh, row twenty-one,” Luke says, stopping his packing to check his ticket. “You?”

“Thirty-nine,” Ashton says. “But I’m running to the queue as soon as they let me.”

“I’m going to the toilet, Luke,” Michael says. “Save me a space in the queue.”

“Take your fucking bag!” Luke shouts after him, and Michael flips him off as he speedwalks off to the toilets. Luke rolls his eyes, and turns back to Ashton.

“Want a hand carrying Michael’s things?” Ashton offers.

“Would you?” Luke says. “Thanks, Ashton.” Ashton permits himself a private smile at the way his name sounds in Luke’s voice.

They shove everything in their bags as quickly as possible and jog over to the queue, which is already at least fifteen people deep, but is moving, which is something.

“Hey,” Michael says, strolling over to them. “Thanks for bringing my stuff.”

“Bastard,” Luke tells him, and Michael grins.

“You love me,” he says. “You’re not boarding with us, are you, Ashton?” Ashton shakes his head.

“Just providing a bag-carrying service,” he says.

“Luke’ll give you your tip,” Michael says, kicking his bag forward as the queue moves. Luke doesn’t move, though, and neither does Ashton.

“See you in LA, then,” Ashton says to Luke, and Luke grins.

“See you,” he echoes, and Ashton, who’s had approximately three-and-a-half hours sleep, can’t help himself – he leans in, tiptoes slightly, and presses a soft kiss to the corner of Luke’s lips.

“See you at practice,” Ashton says, leaning back, and relishing the flush on Luke’s cheeks. He desperately wants to lean in again, kiss Luke for real, but he stops himself. He only met the guy, like, eight hours ago, and he’s already joined his band and invited him over for a dinner date. “Text me.” Luke holds his phone up.

“I will,” he says. “I’ll text you as soon as we land.”

“Good,” Ashton says. “Now go, get on the plane.” Luke nods, throws Ashton one last smile, and steps forward to join Michael, who’s clearly been listening to their conversation.

“See you later, Michael,” Ashton calls, as he walks away.

“Don’t be late for practice!” Michael shouts back, and Ashton grins, and shakes his head.

-------

Half an hour later, Ashton’s finally on the plane. His backpack’s underneath the seat in front of him, his headphones are in, and he’s going to be home in just under twelve hours. And, perhaps even better than all of that, he’s going on a date with the hottest man alive.

As if on cue, his phone interrupts his music with a ding, and Ashton fishes it out of his pocket.

+447568392881 I know I said I’d text as soon as we landed, but I saw this really hot guy boarding the plane and I just had to tell you about him

Ashton grins.

Me Oh?

Luke Yeah, he’s got this curly hair, gorgeous hazel eyes, about six foot, in incredible shape? You can’t miss him.

Me You could see his eyes from the plane? What are you, Hawkeye?

Luke Way to ruin the moment

Me Well, I’m just thinking – curly hair, gorgeous eyes, six foot (definitely a bit of a lowball estimate), in incredible shape – I saw a guy just like that earlier, only he had blue eyes.

Luke You’ll have to point him out to me when we land.

Me I will – I’ll be thinking about him for the whole flight.

It takes a while for the next message to come through, and the plane’s already gearing up to take off when his phone finally dings again.

Luke He’ll be thinking about you too.

#lashton #5sos fic #also a bit of #malum #but background

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kricketwritesstories · 4 years

Text

Title: Pack Your Bags Cause We’re Getting Married

Fandom: Avengers

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Characters: Bucky, Reader, Steve, Natasha, Sam, and Tony

Summary: Bucky finally gets up the courage to confess his love for the Reader...but she's already engaged?

Bucky felt positively giddy as he left his apartment this morning. After a long bro to bro talk with Steve that lasted until the wee hours of the morning, it was decided.

Today was the day he asked Y/N to be his girlfriend.

From the moment they met, Bucky knew she was the one. It was like he was compelled to tell her everything; he couldn't help but open up to her. Her smile lit up his world and her laugh made his heart soar. For the past six months he'd been trying to get the courage to ask her to be his. Every single time he'd try his mouth would go dry, his hands would sweat, and he ended up asking her, "How about that local sports team?"

He'd done this so many times that Y/N had taken to answering him, "I hear they eat their young."

Rubbing the back of his neck and blushing furiously at his cowardice, she would laugh and so would he because dammit that laughter was infectious!

He took a deep breath as he approached her door. It took him by surprise to find the door open. Stealthily he positioned himself in the doorway. Y/N was sprawled out on her bed curled on her side facing the door. She took no notice of Bucky's presence because her eyes were focused on her phone. Her face was tinged pink and she was grinning like an idiot. Bucky sighed and leaned in the doorway watching her. It was a dreamlike moment until he heard a Scottish voice on the other end of the phone proclaim, "Pack your bags, cause we're getting married!"

Y/N squealed and rolled on to her back, her eyes never leaving her phone. Bucky felt his heart shatter into a billion pieces.

"If he doesn't think you're the right size because your thighs touch or your curves aren't in the 'right places' fuck that! You're a champion! You're amazing the way you are, and remember size doesn't matter if 90% of your dick is your personality," he continued.

Bucky couldn't stand to hear anymore. He stumbled down the hallway towards the elevator. When he reached the common living room he threw himself on the couch and turned on the TV, Sam, Steve, and Nat stopped talking.

"Buck," Steve said carefully, "how -"

"CAN'T A GUY WATCH," he paused and took a good look at the TV, "JAKE AND THE NEVERLAND PIRATES IN PEACE?!"

"Shit," he thought to himself, "of course it's still on the channel we had on last night while we babysat Clint's kids."

He stared at the TV as he thought back to the night before. For some reason, outside of Nat, Clint's kids loved having Y/N and Bucky babysit them. He let Lila braid his hair while Y/N played pirates Cooper. The ended the night all piled on the couch watching Disney Junior. His heart ached remembering the sight of baby Nathaniel cradled in Y/N's arms. He dared himself to imagine briefly that this was their family, and now all those hopes were obliterated.

Sam leaned over and whispered to his fellow Avengers, "Is Snow Miser seriously watching Disney Junior?"

"Maybe he really doesn't like Captain Hook, that sneaky snook," Natasha joked.

"Something must've went wrong when he tried to," Steve started to muse before he realized he was talking out loud.

His face went beat red and he prayed the other two didn't hear him. Well, his prayers weren't heard but his words sure were.

"Oh my God, did he try and ask Y/N out again," Nat said hopefully.

"Please, I'm pretty sure his balls froze off from all the years in cryo - he's been trying for months and he just can't do it," Sam mocked.

"Come on guys, cut him some slack," Steve pleaded.

"Steve. He's a grown ass man watching Jake and the Neverland Pirates intensely - like he's going to miss a plot point," Sam pointed out.

"Good afternoon everyone," Y/N greeted cheerfully.

"Good woah," Sam stuttered.

Typically Y/N wore oversized fandom t-shirts with zip-up hoodies, ripped up jeans, and a pair of beat up converse. Everyone knew she had confidence issues when it came to her body. It didn't matter that everyone called her 'cute' and 'adorable,' she wanted to be sexy and she didn't think she could be with the body she had.

Today, her confidence was through the roof. She wore a maroon off the shoulder lace top that hugged her curves, a black skater skirt, and open toed heals. Her make up, while usually natural, was done a touch more dramatic. Her E/C eyes were practically glittering with happiness.

Bucky refused to look from the TV, even despite Sam's reaction. He could feel bitterness tighten in his chest.

"Well, well, well," Nat said impressed, "what's the occasion Y/N?"

"Didn't she tell you," Bucky said bitterly unable to control the words that spewed from his mouth, "she's engaged."

Steve spit out the coffee he was drinking, drenching Sam in the process.

"Nice," Sam said curtly as he stood up to go clean himself off.

"I didn't think you were even seeing anyone," Natasha said as she looked cautiously between Bucky and Y/N.

Before Y/N could answer Bucky, still staring at the TV, started ranting, "Oh well it's because it's some Scottish guy she's seeing on her phone with that head seeing thing."

He was silent for just a few moments, but Y/N just couldn't get her words out she was so taken aback.

"Also I'll have you know," he shouted causing everyone to freeze, "that I've always thought your curves are sexy and beautiful. I've never thought they weren't in the right places. Your body, your face, your personality - it's all perfect to me."

Y/N couldn't will herself to breathe let alone move a muscle. Even Sam was stock still with paper towels bunched in his hands, he still hadn't made a move to clean the coffee off of himself.

"And another thing," Bucky shouted louder, his voice cracking, "I'll have you know that my dick is huge - and none of it has to do with my personality - and that it was that size even BEFORE the super soldier serum!"

"What fresh hell," Tony said confused as he walked into the awkward scene, "why is Terminator talking about his gun size?"

"James," Y/N said with a cautious yet amused tone, "were you at my door this morning?"

"I may have been walking by," Bucky admitted grumpily.

"So you heard Daniel -," Y/N started.

"What kind of fucking punk ass name is Daniel," he snapped, voice dripping with jealousy.

"Who the hell is Daniel," Tony said confused.

"Y/N's Scottish fiancé," Bucky spat bitterly.

"Daniel Euan Henderson," Y/N said in a strained voice.

"Y/N Henderson, huh," he said curtly, "well I hope you two are very happy together. I'm sure we'll miss you on the team."

"Y/N's leaving the team," Tony questioned in horror.

"- is a YouTuber," Y/N attempted once again to continue.

"Wow...what an exciting job," Bucky taunted, "someone who films themselves talking about shit is so much better than one of earth's mightiest heroes."

"Y/N is marrying a YouTuber," Tony asked as his confusion kept climbing.

"- who films himself talking to girls," Y/N tried yet again.

"Hmm he sounds real faithful there, good pick," Bucky said stubbornly while his eyes were still glued to Jake.

"- to help encourage them about their body image," Y/N explained as she finally was able to move herself forward.

"Well clearly it's working for you, sweet cheeks," Tony noted winking as he took in Y/N's appearance.

"I've been watching him for months now," Y/N continued ignoring Tony's comment.

"Oh wow," Bucky said hurt, "you've been seeing him for months?"

"Watching," Y/N corrected, "to try and boost my confidence -"

"Well he proposed so I guess it worked," Bucky said sadly.

"So Y/N is getting married," Tony asked.

"OH MY GOD I AM NOT ENGAGED! I AM NOT SEEING ANYONE! I'VE BEEN WATCHING HIS VIDEOS TO GAIN CONFIDENCE SO I CAN DO THIS," Y/N screamed exasperated.

She stalked over to the TV, turned it off, and faced James Buchanan Barnes. The moment he finally looked at her, he couldn't breathe. All jealousy and animosity flew from his mind and all he could think was how exceptionally beautiful Y/N was.

Steeling her nerves Y/N walked over to the couch. In one swift movement, before she lost her nerve, Y/N straddled Bucky's lap, placed her hands on his face, and kissed him for all he was worth.

Bucky's hands flew, one to hold the back of her neck and one to hold her waist, as he kissed Y/N back with abandon.

Y/N pulled back panting, and leaned her forehead against his. "So," she breathed, "how about that local sports team?"

Bucky's smile threatened to take over his whole face it was so big. "I hear they eat their young," he responded before kissing her again.

Natasha, Steve, and a still coffee soaked Sam all sighed dreamily as they watched the scene play out.

"What sports team eats their young and why do they have young in the first place," Tony cried out in horror, breaking the silence.

Bucky and Y/N broke their kiss because they couldn't stop laughing. They fell sideways onto the couch, still holding onto one another.

"To be clear," Y/N said seriously, "you're mine now, and I'm yours."

Bucky's eyes darkened at her words. "Also to be clear, I meant everything I said earlier," he said huskily as he glanced downward.

Y/N blushed furiously and buried her head in his neck to whisper, "I can't wait to find out myself."

In a split second, Bucky was on his feet and he threw Y/N over his shoulder. She squealed in delight as he carried her out of the room.

"You may want to invest in some noise cancelling headphones, Stevie," Bucky called back to his best friend and fellow floor mate.

Steve groaned, but couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face. "Well at least my ship has sailed," he sighed.

Sam gasped, "Look at you grandpa, using that young people lingo like a boss!"

"What the actual fuck just happened," Tony shouted as his eyes went wide and his hands shot out as if he was trying to keep his balance.

Nat walked over to him and patted his head sympathetically and promised, "I'll tell you when you're older."

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #reader insert #mutual pining #love confessions #jealous bucky #confused tony #misunderstanding #steve is a good bro

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spideyrights · 5 years

Text

Partners (Series) - Detective Loki x Reader

II. ACQUAINTANCES

series masterlist

"I can’t thank you enough but I thought this might suffice.” you grinned, setting down the officer’s coat on his desk alongside a cup of coffee and two muffins you had baked freshly that morning. The pleasant surprise on his face which quickly morphed into pure delight was enough to cheer you up after a rough night. “Detective, you really are just walking sunshine, aren’t you?”

“I try my best.” you giggled, readjusting your coat in your arms, ready to step away from his desk and make your way to your cubicle when the officer’s voice stops you. “Your partner’s been here all morning you know. I don’t even know if he went home in the first place.”

You nodded slowly, standing on your tiptoes to catch sight of Loki in his cubicle. Sure enough he was there, clicking around on his computer, hard at work. He was freshly showered, wearing a new outfit that, admittedly, looked great on him and his hair was cleanly slicked back but you also had the inkling he hadn’t gone home. It would be easy enough with the showers downstairs in the changing rooms and the clothes you knew he kept in the lockers there too. Something about that made your heart feel a little heavy. You knew Loki wasn’t one for company, fair enough, you couldn’t really be either in a new town with friends or family, but if he didn’t even have any downtime to himself? That doesn’t seem wise.

“Well thanks again, officer.” you smiled, approaching your shared cubicle with Loki. He glanced back towards you hearing the sound of you settling into your desk. “Morning.”

“Yeah.” Charming as ever, you thought, shaking your head with a small smile. Every time you thought you made progress you seemed to regress just the next day.

He stood, pulling on his coat, tucking his chair in and grabbing his phone and car keys. You expected him to say something about where he was going but he moved passed you wordlessly making you furrow your brows in confusion. “Um, Detective Loki,” you stood, pacing quickly to catch up with him. “Where are you going?”

“I’m gonna go speak to the families. Can you just...work on that press release? Thanks.” he feigns politeness before turning on his heel sharply again, walking faster this time as if to get away from you. You clench your fists feeling an unfamiliar feeling wash over you, almost like...rage?

“Detective Loki!” you shouted, stopping him in his tracks. He turned with somewhat wide eyes and the other detectives in the area also subtly raised their eyes to observe the situation they all knew had been bubbling. “With all due respect, Sir, I have been working on that press release for four days already and I sent it out last night. I feel like I should inform you that my skill set does actually extend beyond press releases and if you would get your head out of your ass for a quick second you might realise that. Like how you might realise that my interrogation last night was perfectly fine and how you might realise that I’m perfectly capable of visiting the families with you so stop sidelining me and actually give me a chance to be a real detective!”

Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you realised how breathless your rant had made you. Silence fell upon the entire floor as everyone watched the two of you intently. Your gaze remained fixed on Loki and his on yours. He seemed speechless, his mouth agape but not even a sound escaping it. “Be in my car in three minutes or I leave you behind.” And with that he leaves, his long coat flapping from the momentum of his pace. You look around the room, sending an apologetic smile to everyone as you return to the cubicle for your coat and phone before hurriedly making your way out of the building, knowing Loki wasn’t kidding.

You feel relief when you see Loki’s car still parked outside and him sitting, obviously impatient, inside on the drivers side. You clamber into the passenger side seat, shutting the door and he sets off immediately, clearly wasting no time and you just about manage to clip your seatbelt in before you hit the main road.

You shuffle uncomfortably in your seat, your knee bouncing up and down as you feel the awkward tension strongly between the two of you. “I’m sorry about all of that.” you remark, eyes still trained on the view out of the window.

“Don’t apologise. I was being a dick and you stood up to me. Might just be the first cop style thing I’ve seen you do.” Your mouth falls open in disbelief as if to ask ‘Is he seriously already being like this after I just shouted at him?’ but after looking to Loki’s expression, a smile or as close as he might get to one, you realise he's teasing and your face breaks out into an alike smile.

“It might take me a little while to warm up to that sense of humour, Detective.” you joke. You’d be lying if you didn't say you were pleased to see that something in Loki had changed as a result of your outburst, even if it wasn't much.

“You don’t need to call me Detective. As you’ve established we’re both detectives here.”

“Then what do I call you? Loki? David?”

“Do not call me David. We’re not there yet.”

“Loki it is.” You sat in silence a few moments longer. It wasn't hard to figure out he was no conversationalist, you imagined he liked the silence. But you didn't like to think about what he was thinking of. You couldn't imagine the man having a single light-hearted thought when a case like this was going on. You hated that. “It’s just that...I’m not normally the type to shout at...anyone.”

“I know, it’s not exactly hard to tell.” he said frankly. You responded with an inquisitive look, beckoning him to elaborate. “I’ve never seen the boys warm up to anyone as much as they have to you. Cops are seriously grumpy people, I haven’t seen half these guys crack a smile at work but you come along with your fucking baked goods and stupid jokes and they’re toast.”

You’re stunned into silence, stumbling over an assortment of noises that you can only assume is your brain trying to form a word or two rather unsuccessfully. “Do you have a problem with my baked goods or my stupid jokes?” you ask semi-jokingly.

“Not exactly. Just not used to anyone being that happy around the precinct...or anywhere.”

“I-”

“We’re here.” he interrupted, pulling over by the Dover household. You nodded, stepping out of the car with him, approaching the household. A piece of your heart broke when you opened the door to one very sad, very tired and very clearly distraught Mrs Dover. She let you in and even courteously offered you a drink which you declined on behalf of you and Loki who was paying her no attention, distracted by his phone. She let you know her husband would be down momentarily and in the meantime she sat on the couch alongside Loki and you sat in front of her, uncomfortably perched on the edge of her table.

“Did we pass?” she asks, looking to Detective Loki though he’s still so absorbed in the texts he’s received that he doesn't seem to hear her. “Yes, you did, Mrs Dover, we appreciate your cooperation.” She nods solemnly, a faint smile of appreciation on her face.

“It’s embarrassing, all this fuss. Everyone’s going to think we’re crazy when those two come out from wherever they’re hiding.” This piqued Loki’s interest and he finally put his phone away, looking to her inquisitively. “Do you have some reason to think they ran away?”

“No, they were happy, but they must have run away, right?” she looks between the two of you expectantly and you both nod, Loki even offers her a comforting smile. When she looks back down the two of you look to each other with unsure gazes.

“Your police captain told me you’ve solved every case you’ve ever been assigned, is that right?” Even you didn’t know this so you match her gaze at Loki waiting for him to answer. His response is minute, maybe not even noticeable as he averts his eyes from us both, sending Mrs Dover into a state of tears. You reach your arm out sympathetically to grasp hers and she holds it gratefully, squeezing it as though she needs the physical contact desperately.

“I’m so sorry,” she pauses, trying to gather herself. “Do you...have children, Detectives?” You know Loki won’t respond but you notice how he straightens his back, somewhat uncomfortable.

“No,” you begin. “But I’ve always wanted kids. A daughter actually.” Both Mrs Dover and Loki’s eyes are trained on you now and for the first time Mrs Dover cracks a genuine smile, admittedly making you feel somewhat accomplished. “The day you have one will change your life, Detective, I tell you that.”

“You should know this case means a lot to me, Mrs Dover. I just wanted you to know that I am going to do everything-” “I’m gonna find your daughter.” Loki interrupts with a kind of certainty you didn’t expect from him. You flinch at his use of ‘I’m’ as opposed to ‘we’ but brush it off instantaneously. She looks like she wants to believe it but hardly can, accepting the comfort nonetheless. “We think the girls came back here after they left you at the Birches’ yesterday”

“They were looking for Anna’s red whistle” comes a voice from the doorway who you soon recognise to be Mr Keller Dover’s. You and Loki both stand. “Right, I read your statement.” Loki clarifies.

“I’m Detective Loki and this is Detective (Y/L/N),” you both offer him your hands and he shakes yours, returning the small smile you send him. “We’re heading up the investigation into your daughter’s disappearance. Please sit down.” Keller, however, remains standing, taking no notice of Loki’s request. His wife clings to his arm desperately and the sight of the ruined family only makes your heart ache more.

“My son already told you the guy was inside the RV, just watching them.” Keller states, clearly confused as to the ruling out of Alex Jones as a suspect. “We haven’t found any physical evidence in the RV, or his aunt’s house where he lives.” Loki clarifies somewhat regretfully, looking to you to suggest you state your discovery.

“Nothing?” Keller is clearly stunned. “We discovered that Alex Jones unfortunately has the IQ of a ten year old. There’s no way someone with the IQ of a ten year old would have been able to abduct two girls in broad daylight and then...somehow make them disappear.”

“Well...how can he drive an RV? If, you know, if he can’t answer a question?” Keller asks, looking between the two of you. “Well he has a legal Pennsylvania licence.” Loki shrugs.

“And he ran right? They said he tried to run away. Why, uh, why would he run?”

“Mr Dover, we’ve spent a collective 10 hours questioning this boy and we wouldn’t come to you with this stuff unless we were certain of it.” you spoke as politely as you could muster though he remained unimpressed. “You give him a lie detector?”

“Sir, I understand what you’re asking me, yes we did give him a lie detector. There’s no way of,” Loki pauses to scoff. “A lie detector doesn’t work if you don’t understand the questions.”

You observed Keller’s expression and it was evident he was growing increasingly antagonised by the constant dead ends his questions were facing. I guess he was getting a taste of what your job was like. “Well, maybe he wasn’t alone. How did he drive an RV if he had the IQ of a ten year old?”

“Mr Dover, we’re considering all possibilities.” you spoke softly trying to ease the tension. “No I don't think you are considering all possibilities.” Loki now chose to step in, recognising Keller’s rising temper and its direction towards you.

“I hear-I hear what you’re saying-”

“No, you listen to me, just shut the fuck up for a fucking second.” His voice escalated into an uncontrolled shout, making his wife whimper and the room fall silent. You jumped, slightly uncomfortable and Loki, having noticed, stepped in once again from preventing you from having to. “This is what I’m going to need you to do for me, you need to calm down.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry but please listen to me for a second.” Loki went on to speak clearly drawing Keller’s patience thin again but Keller soon got his words in. “I don’t understand what any of this means, they said he ran, they said he tried to get away. I don’t understand why he would tried to run away.”

For the first time in a while a few beats of silence fell upon the room and you found yourself eager to make eye contact with Loki as some weird sort of comforting presence. You, standing slightly ahead of him, shifted your body in his direction, both of your eyes briefly flitting to each other as Loki continued.

“We’re considering all possibilities, Mr Dover. I hear what you're saying. I’m not crossing anybody off my list just,” His eyes briefly moved back to yours lingering for a moment before you both returned to look at Keller. “Let us do our job.”

Following a few more remarks, the two of you left side by side and you found yourself actually looking forward to the much less tense drive back with Loki, something you never thought you’d say. As the two of you were halfway to the car you were stopped by the return of Keller’s voice. “Shit.” Loki mumbled though you caught it, only letting amusement wash over your face for a second before it was gone as you turned back to Keller.

“He stays in custody until my daughter is found, right?”

“Sir, we can only hold him in custody for 48 hours unless we charge him which means he’ll be out tomorrow.” you informed and Loki sent him a sharp nod to indicate you were right. “Detectives, two little girls gotta be worth whatever rules you have to break to keep that asshole in custody. I know you can’t promise me anything, I’m just asking you to be sure.” The two of you stood there wordlessly, you knew you couldn’t promise Keller this but maybe it was worth a shot with the Captain.

As Keller leaves, you and Loki continue across their lawn to his care. “I’m trying to help you when I say this but you can't do that,” You wait for him to elaborate. “...firm personal bonds. Like with Mrs Dover. It makes it too personal for you, it makes you too emotional and you'll feel a hundred times worse when you disappoint them. You live like that and this shit will fuck you up.” You let silence pass for a few moments, contemplating his comment. He's not wrong. It might just be the first time he’s said something to you that might just make you a better detective.

You open his passenger side door, about to slide in but you notice he’s lingered at his door, looking at you over the hood, hesitating as though unsure whether to say something. “This isn’t the job for that, you know.”

“Hmm?” “If you want kids I mean, this isn’t a job that will accommodate that.” He seems nervous. It makes you smile. “Nothing to apologise for. That life is long behind me now, Detective Loki.”

#jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal x reader #jake gyllenhaal x you #jake gyllenhaal imagine #jake gyllenhaal one shot #detective loki #detective loki x reader #detective loki fic #david loki #david loki x reader #david loki fic #partner series

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yetanotherbuffyblog · 4 years

Text

Everyone knows now!

So that happened. Cat’s finally out of the bag.

Anya’s back as a vengeance demon, hoping to make Xander suffer for leaving her at the altar. Which, uh, fair. But the problem is that a vengeance demon helps other people achieve their wishes; she can’t do it herself, even though she tries her darndest, especially when Xander, though he wants to get back together, still doesn’t want to be married. So Anya goes around to all of Xander’s friends in order to try to convince one of them to wish for Xander’s demise. But none of them hate Xander that much. Sure, they’re disappointed in how things turned out, and a couple of them are upset about what he did to Anya, they don’t want him dead. So she storms off.

Buffy and Xander discover a garden gnome in the yard of the Summers house, which she didn’t put there, and it turns out that it’s a secret camera. Xander initially suggests Spike put it there, but when Buffy confronts Spike she’s convinced it wasn’t him. So Willow hacks the camera. While that’s going on, Spike goes to the magic shop because he wants some potion to numb his emotional pain. Anya gives him booze, they get drunk, and start making out. And just when things get heavy, Willow hacks into the camera’s full network, seeing where else the Trio (because OF COURSE it’s the Trio you dumb-dumbs) planted cameras, including one in the magic shop, so Willow, Buffy, Xander and Dawn all get to see Spike and Anya having sex.

Oops.

Dawn works out that Buffy and Spike were A Thing from Buffy’s reaction, and asks her why she didn’t tell about it, which prompts Buffy to admit that she didn’t want to admit it to herself. Xander, on the other hand, is FURIOUS, and grabs Buffy’s axe with the intention of murdering Spike. Buffy stops him from going that far, but during the ensuing argument Spike tells Xander that he and Buffy used to fondue, and Xander walks off disgusted.

But Willow and Tara got back together, so yay?

Notes!

-This truth had to come out sooner or later, and of course it did in the worst way possible. At the beginning of the episode, Buffy tells Spike that she doesn’t think that her friends would really care; after all, she tried to kill them last week, and they forgave her instantly. But I think that this, combined with that, would have more repercussions.

-I’m unclear if Willow knows about Spike and Buffy; I wouldn’t be surprised if she did, also pulling from Buffy’s reaction.

-The Trio is up to SOMETHING, but I don’t know what; they have some kind of spell that Jonathan performs, and it points to a place on the map. Also worthy of note: Andrew and Warren are plotting to backstab Jonathan? I don’t know why. Warren’s an evil son of a gun who is easily irritable, but I can’t imagine why he finds Jonathan more annoying than Andrew.

-I keep forgetting that Anya’s full name is Anyanka.

-I like that while the show portrays Xander sympathetically, it’s not too sympathetic towards him; after all, he did something pretty terrible to Anya. And his attempts to fix it aren’t good, guys. He basically wants things to go back to how they were, without the marriage or him leaving, and that’s not what Anya wanted. She was so looking forward to their relationship moving forward, and Xander’s basically just scared of committing to anything more than just a live-in girlfriend.

And Anya’s not right in wanting to have revenge on Xander, but she’s also not wrong to be upset as she is. She got dumped in the most humiliating way possible, by a guy who still doesn’t understand her emotional needs, and even though Buffy’s take on this, that her pain is legitimate and she needs some space to work this out, is probably the healthiest it’s not something that she wants to hear right now. Understandably so.

No, her sleeping with Spike isn’t good, in any sense, but it’s understandable from the character’s point of view, because she’s hurting, drunk, and Spike is playing on those feelings of rejection because he ALSO has a lot of those emotional beats in his own psyche and so they make this terrible decision.

-And Spike’s pretty emotionally messed up if his reaction to Buffy rejecting him is “I need magic to make this bad feeling go away!” Because that’s his intent when he walks into the magic shop.

-Would Giles have made things better if he were here?

-I know that Xander hates Spike, and we needed the Drama for the Plot to work, but how did he leap to the assumption that Spike put the camera there? This screams the MO of the Trio, three guys who are explicitly good with technology. It seems as if they worked it out by the time Willow’s hacking the doohickey, but they act as if it isn’t completely obvious.

-Buffy and Dawn’s interactions this episode: I like it. Keep it up.

-TV Tropes points out that while Spike says he’d never hurt Buffy, and she agrees with that, the plain fact of it is that he has TOTALLY hurt her, both physically and emotionally, even after realizing that he’s in love with her. Sometimes it’s him being a dick, but there have definitely been actual fights too.

-We’re almost at the end of the season! What’s going to happen? I don’t know! Are the Trio really our Big Bad? I hope not, but we don’t have that much time to introduce another.

#6x18 #Anya #BtVS #Xander Harris #Spike #Buffy Summers #Dawn Summers

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we-stan-bruce-ban · 5 years

Note

Freshly divorced Peter B invites his long time friend and part time partner(in crime of course) Wade Wilson to bring pizza to come cheer him up(maybe confess his feelings)

Hi!! It’s been like months since I got this ask!!!! I’m really sorry lol, this took me forever because I got into an extremely bad writer’s block and I just. Couldn’t finish it. I finally worked through it though and this kind of turned out more angsty towards the end than I intended, but I still think it’s really cute and I love how it turned out!! Thank you for your patience and, again, I’m sorry it took me so long. Nonetheless, enjoy!

-O-

“I’m going to preface this with please don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m already not listening anymore.”

“I got divorced.”

Wade paused and softened. He hadn’t heard from Peter in a while. A month or two, maybe. Well, that was kind of a lie. He saw Spiderman in the news, or swinging around town, and he was sure that Peter had seen Deadpool around. But it wasn’t the same as actually talking to the guy. And now...well, shit. That was a lot to just put out there like that.

“I...fuck. I’m sorry, man,” Wade said gently.

“You’re…” Peter sounded a little surprised. After all, he outright expressed that he wasn’t expecting Wade to be sympathetic.

“When did this happen?” Wade continued.

“Yesterday,” Peter choked. “I mean, yesterday officially. In court, and--look, I--I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Then...why’d you call me?”

“Come over. Please. To distract me. I’m sad, and hungry, and I just want a--a pizza, and to not think about this please.”

Wade nodded, forgetting that Peter couldn’t see him. “On it. Half pepperoni. Half bacon. Extra cheese.”

“Yeah. You know it. I’ll, um...I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

“I’ll be over in twenty minutes.” Wade hung up before Peter could say “bye”.

It was hard to find a pizza place that was open this late at night, but Wade got the pie and a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and was over at Peter’s apartment within a half-hour.

“Hey, Webs,” he called as he opened the door. “Got pizza and drinks.”

There was no reply.

“Pete?” Wade called, taking his hood off and looking around. The apartment was very obviously lived in. Plates covered the sink counter and coffee table in front of the TV, there were some dirty clothes and jackets strewn about here and there, and the whole place could just use a cleaning in general. Wade couldn’t judge. If it weren’t for Al, his own place would probably look the same.

In the silence of Peter not answering him, Wade could hear the shower running. He set down the pizza box and bottle on one of the only relatively empty surfaces and headed towards the bathroom. Wade pressed an ear against the door.

“Dude? You in there?”

“Y--yeah…”

Finally.

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah…”

Wade turned the knob and peeked into the bathroom. The shower curtain was open, and Peter was sitting in the tub, fully clothed in his Spidey-suit, letting the water run down his back. Even though he had his mask on, Wade could tell that some of the water streaming down his face was probably tears.

“Webs,” he sighed, folding his arms. “What...what are you doing, man?”

“I--I don’t know,” he mumbled.

“Okay, look. I know you’re sad. You have an extremely valid reason to be, okay? Trust me, I understand. But at this point, you’re just wasting water and your bill’s going up. So let’s just…” He reached over to the faucet. “Turn the water off and you can dry off. Put on some comfy clothes. Then come eat this pizza and watch Lego Batman with me.”

Peter sniffled, but nodded a little. He took off the mask and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. Wade’s mouth twitched. He hated seeing Peter so sad. He was used to sarcasm and sass from his friend. Maybe irritation. Definitely not this. But...he got it. Wade was no stranger to relationship issues.

As Peter slowly started to get out of the tub, Wade was quick to run to the bedroom and find him some sweatpants and a t-shirt to wear. One towel-dry and a couple tissues later, they were both sitting on the couch. Peter was quietly eating as he stared at the floor. His glazed eyes told Wade he wasn’t really watching the movie.

“It wasn’t an angry divorce,” Peter said suddenly.

“What?” Wade turned the volume down and looked at him.

“We…” Peter sighed heavily. “She wants kids. I’m not ready for that yet. And I...guess she didn’t wanna wait, because she said she wanted to take a break and we should both think about some things. And I did. And...fuck, dude. I was the worst.”

“What?” he repeated. “No way. You’re fucking Spiderman.”

“That’s the problem. I couldn’t ever spend time with her, or pay attention to her, and--” Peter stopped and took a swig from his glass. “And I missed so many important things. MJ deserves so much better. So...fucking much. I think the--the kids thing was just the icing on the cake.”

“...Oh.” Although he wasn’t a hero, Wade was more than familiar with sudden scheduling getting in the way of other important things. He supposed heroes had it worse, since they were constantly on defense. Mercs typically had a single job, and then they were done for the week. “I’m sorry.”

“I just...don’t wanna be alone. Y’know? No one could...I can’t have relationships.”

“Not unless they’re with other heroes.” Which you aren’t, a voice told him.

“Yeah, and who do you suppose I date, huh?” Peter forced a laugh. “Captain America? Thor himself?”

“Hey.” Wade took a bit of his pizza slice. “Don’t knock it ‘till you try.”

“You’ve dated Thor,” he deadpanned.

“Tried to. Not the point. I’m just saying that no one knows how tough hero life is more than hero life itself. Maybe he’d--um, they--would be more understanding. Right?”

“Right,” he huffed. “I guess…”

“Look, just...try not to think about it right now. I know that’s like kicking you in the gonads and then telling you to ignore the pain, but try to focus on yourself for a while. Don’t worry about relationships. Self care and all that shit.”

“Yeah,” he said softly.

“And if you ever need a guy to bring you beer and pizza, you know I’m here. Always.”

“You’re being really nice right now.” Peter cracked a weak smile. “Are you sure you’re Deadpool? Like, the Deadpool?”

“Who else would have this gross-ass skin?”

“Don’t call it gross.” Peter rolled his eyes and flipped Wade’s hood back. “You look fine.”

“Yeah, okay,” Wade scoffed.

“I mean it. Skin is here to protect muscles and bones and all the squishy stuff. And your skin does that. So it still works, more than other people’s, probably.”

“God, if only the world worked like you do.” Wade smirked. “Then I’d be named this year’s America’s Sexiest Man.”

“How do you even survive with all that hot air in your head?”

Wade’s chest swelled as he heard Peter laugh, genuinely laugh, for what was probably the first time in a while. And, God, that smile...that adorable smile. Wade stretched his hand out to touch Peter’s, then recoiled. Dude, he just divorced his wife. Lay off.

Instead of making a move, Wade looked back at the screen. Robin was explaining how all the kids at the orphanage called him ‘Dick’ instead of Richard. Wade snorted--it was still his favorite joke from this movie--but he didn’t really feel like laughing.

Whatever. At least I made him happy for the night.

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