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#if you ever get the chance to watch these movies seize it at once!
kpopnstarwars · 3 months
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Second Chance: Jeong Yunho x Reader
A/N: i honestly feel like i went through multiple divorces writing this (also i have never written a standalone fic this long, like this is double the longest fic i've ever written, but it's huge like yunho so what can i say)
tw: alcohol, swearing, HUGE angst, eventual fluff, people are drunk, there's a party (yes that deserves a warning), gets a little smutty at the end, mention of marriage (twice), could be kinda ooc near the beginning because i started writing this within a month of stanning
wc: 5.3k
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The second you step through the doorway, you're already regretting conceding so easily to Wooyoung. He's got his nagging technique perfected - you'd probably be curled up on your sofa binging your favourite movies, surrounded with snacks and fluffy blankets and the comforts of your own home if he wasn't nearly as persuasive as he is.
Instead, here you are, at a party you're not very... invested in, half sulking as San welcomes you in, wishing you were at home, watching the Star Wars prequels back to back with Seonghwa.
San is already half drunk. It's easy to tell; his face and the tips of his ears are blushed a rosy pink, and he's giggling at nothing in particular as he hangs off your shoulders, clinging onto your shirt as if he'll lose you in his own semi-crowded living room. You anticipate another five minutes of clingy San, punctuated by tipsy zoomies, before the alcohol he had (probably just a few shots, to be honest) kicks in, and he begins to feel sleepy. With practiced ease - yes, you've done this many times before - you steer him towards the sofa, grinning at Yeosang as you dump San next to him.
'Nooo...' San mumbles. 'Where are you... where...' You pat his shoulder. 'I'm not leaving yet, don't worry. Yeosang will look after you.'
Retreating into the small crowd before said man can protest at this forced role of caretaker, you wade your way over to Seonghwa and Hongjoong; greeting both, you have a quick exchange about the former's outfit - one he altered himself - before briefly summarising your wishes about watching Star Wars with the latter. In response, he nods sympathetically, but you can tell he's got his eyes fixed on a girl somewhere over your shoulder, so you move on quickly, searching for Wooyoung. Vaguely, you spot Mingi towering over almost everyone in the corner, but knowing that the one person you're trying to avoid today may be with him, you look away before your eyes seize the chance to find him.
'Look who showed up!' A voice crows behind you. You turn around, rolling your eyes. 'And whose fault is that, Woo?' 'He's looking out for you,' Jongho tells you, appearing beside Wooyoung. 'Maybe you needed to get out of the house and - ' 'And talk to you-know-who,' Wooyoung finishes. 'No,' you snap. 'Absolutely not.' He pats your head. 'Here, have a drink. Maybe after it you'll be more open to the idea.' Reluctantly, you take the cup from him. 'Thanks, I guess.'
Wooyoung and Jongho begin talking about some trend on TikTok that they're planning on roping Mingi into doing with them - in truth, it doesn't quite capure your attention as much as the tall, achingly familiar silhouette across the room does. Before you can stop it, your gaze snags on him, on the angles of his jaw and his elbows, on the curving slope of his shoulders. Inhaling sharply, you quickly look away.
And then you glance over at him again.
Just once, and just long enough to see if he's with anyone.
If he's with a girl.
You know he's perfectly capable of it. You know many people at this party who wouldn't say no to him, even if they knew it was just a rebound. You tell yourself you wouldn't really care, it wouldn't really bother you, but it would. Especially if it was her. Somewhere deep inside you, he's still yours; yours to covet, yours to touch and kiss and love.
But he's not, and he brought that upon himself.
'Hey,' Wooyoung says, waving a hand in front of your face. 'You in there?' You smack his hand away. 'I wish I wasn't.' Jongho raises his eyebrows. 'You should just talk to him, if it's bothering you that badly. It's almost been three weeks, you know.' 'Or if you don't want to talk, you can get as drunk as San,' Wooyoung adds helpfully. 'You would definitely forget everything. I don't think our Sannie even knows his own name right now.' You glance down at your cup, and your stomach twists. 'No thanks.'
Wooyoung wraps an arm around you and squeezes you tightly, smiling sadly. You know he just wants you to cheer up, and this realisation makes you painfully aware of the way you're ruining the mood, of the pity in your friends' eyes as they look at you, of the stifling press of bodies that aren't even that close to you. Handing your drink to Jongho, you tell them that you're heading to the toilet.
You take the long way around San's living room. It's partly to avoid the area that you know he is in, and partly because you can feel Mingi's eyes boring into the side of you head. Skirting around the sofa - which is somehow crammed with triple the amount of people it's designed to fit - you wave at Yeosang, who's glaring at you from where he's half squashed under San. In the bathroom, it's a lot quieter, the thumping bass from Hongjoong's playlist and the hum of voices muffled by the closed door. You glance at yourself at the mirror; you're confronted with your own slightly downturned mouth.
Well, you promised Wooyoung you'd come, not that you'd be happy about it.
After a few minutes, you deem it time for you to emerge again. Schooling your features into something a little more cheerful, you step out of the bathroom, only to be ambushed by the one and only Song Mingi. You sigh. You know what he's here to say, you know he's your friend and he means well, but still, you can't help but feel the beginnings of annoyance bubble up within you. Immediately, you push it down. None of it was Mingi's fault.
'Hi, Mingi,' you say, unable to erase the hint of tiredness in your tone. 'How are you?' He asks, concern bleeding into his features. 'I'm doing alright,' you reply, knowing he sees through you easily enough. 'Haven't been sleeping too well, though.' Scratching the back of his head, he looks at you apologetically. 'Look, you know what I'm going to say.' You sigh. 'Go on.' 'You're both my friends,' he sighs. 'It sucks to see you both sad. Yunho's been beating himself up about it for weeks, ever since it happened, and... I know you miss him too. Please, just give him a second chance.'
You blink. It's the first time someone's mentioned him by name tonight, and the pain wells up in you again, fresh and cutting, ripping away the hazy walls of apathy that you'd struggled so hard to build around yourself. Maybe it's fitting that Mingi is the one who causes them to crumble; before everything went to hell with Yunho, it was always you three who hung out together the most, who relied on each other and supported each other, no matter what. It was the closest thing to perfect you've had in your life.
Then Yunho had to ruin it.
He was too heavy handed when he had your heart in his grasp, he was too careless with the trust you'd put in him. Of course you miss him, of course it hurt when you tore him out from he'd been embedded in your life, nestled into the softest part of you heart. Of course you hate avoiding him, but you hate how you let him hurt you more. You refuse to let him in again, just to make the same mistake.
Slowly, you shake your head. Swallowing around the bitterness on your tongue, you look up at Mingi, a deep sadness springing up inside you at the despondency in his eyes. Your voice sounds disembodied, the words far away as you speak.
'I'm sorry, Mingi. I don't think I can do that.'
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After your talk with Mingi, you begin to see getting as drunk as San in a more favourable light. You let Wooyoung shove exactly two shots down your gullet before you realise that tonight, alcohol isn't going to help you; the shots are acrid in your throat, and the deep throb of the bass - which you normally enjoy - is beginning to give you a headache. Defeated and deflated like a rather morose balloon, you tell Jongho that you're going to get a glass of water.
You realise you've misplayed as soon as you step into the kitchen.
He's there.
Yunho.
Digging your nails into your palms, you jerk your head aprubtly to the side to avoid his eyes as they search for yours. There's no way you're backing out of the kitchen because he's here, there's no way you're so weak that you can't stand the sight of him. Determined, you turn your back to him, reaching into the cupboard to grab a glass, filling it up and sipping at the water. You can feel his eyes burning into your back, and this time you can't help yourself.
A glance over your shoulder is all it takes for the sudden onslaught of memories. Months of dates and years of friendship flash before you, tugging your heart this way and that. He stands there, propped against the counter, his brown eyes anchored on you, his lips half parted as if he's about to speak, and all you can see in him is scene after bittersweet scene: Yunho holding your waist in a crowd, Yunho dancing with you around the living room at two in the morning, Yunho making you laugh until you can't breathe, Yunho holding you tight as you cry, Yunho with his pretty lips on yours, Yunho with his beautiful hands on your body, Yunho telling you that he loves you, Yunho, Yunho, Yunho.
And then it's Yunho, bathed in morning light as he lies in bed beside you, his features serious and solemn and deceptively honest as he tells you the sweetest words you've ever heard in your life.
Finally, it's Yunho the traitor, seen across a crowded, badly lit club on the same day, Mingi beside him, disbelieving as he gapes at your boyfriend kissing a girl, a girl who is not you, who could not even be mistaken for you. You've replayed the scene many times in your head, the way he looked up, catching your eyes as you turned to walk away. He caught up with you in the street, and you had the worst arguement of your life in a seedy, dark alleyway, refusing to let him touch you as you cradled the broken pieces of your heart to your chest - it was no longer his to have.
Looking at him now, he looks different; like your Yunho, but tired. There are bags under his eyes - at least you aren't the only one losing sleep - and his hands clench and unclench at his sides, his jaw working as he searches for words. Carefully, you set your glass down on the counter, crossing your arms.
'I...' He starts, but trails off.
Something ignites in your chest as you watch him fumble over words, stumbling over unfinished sentences. Anger burns bright inside you, a potent mix of frustration and longing and bitter sorrow welling up like poison, making you want to hurt him like he hurt you, demanding retribution. All you can see his lips on hers, and it fucking stings.
'Why are you talking to me?' You ask lowly, voice frosty. Yunho takes a step closer. 'I - I'm sorry. I miss you - so fucking much. I want you back, I need you. I just wish I could make it right so we could - ' 'If you want me back so badly, why did you kiss her?' You hiss. 'Did you forget about me in that moment? Or did you just not care?' He sighs, raking a hand through his hair. 'I, I know I fucked up, badly, and - '
You scoff. You're too angry, too raw, to care about the anguish on his face. He doesn't understand: he doesn't understand that he broke your trust and your heart and you, he doesn't understand that his apology is too late - it was late the moment he touched that girl.
'Fucked up badly?' You snap, incredulous. 'Just badly? Do you remember what you said that morning, on the very same day, while we were still in bed? Do you remember what you told me? You said that you were really serious. You said that one day you were going to marry me. Do you know how happy I was, thinking that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me?' You throw your hands up in the air. 'Well, I guess it was all a shitty lie.'
Yunho staggers back as if you actually punched him. His eyes are wounded as they search yours, and he steadies himself against the counter, gripping it so hard his knuckles bleed white. Clenching his jaw, he stares at you, speechless, and you know that you succeeded in your mission to hurt him. It doesn't feel as good as you thought it would.
Then, the kitchen door swings open.
A swell of music spills inside, along with a very tipsy looking girl. Laughter floats through from the living room. Both you and Yunho just look at her, forgetting that you were arguing in San's kitchen, at a party, and she returns your gazes, bewildered as she looks between the two of you.
'Uh, sorry, I didn't know I was interrupting something. I'll, I'll come back later?' You force yourself to smile, despite it being the expression your features least want to make right now, your voice surprisingly steady. 'Don't worry, you're alright, come in. We should probably go somewhere else.' 'Yeah,' she mumbles, quickly retreating and firmly shutting the door despite your words.
You glance over to Yunho. His hands are shaking as he lifts them, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes, and all the fight leaves you at the sight. For all the years you've known him, he's cried maybe four or five times. Your stomach churns with guilt. You caused his tears.
'Hey,' you say softly. 'Do you want to go somewhere more private?' He nods, his voice thick when he speaks. 'Y - yeah, my car's two minutes away. It's in the multi-storey car park.' 'Okay,' you sigh. 'Let's go.'
He's silent as you rinse out your glass and put it on the dish rack, wiping your hands on your trousers. Ducking your head, you weave your way to the front door, slipping past Wooyoung and avoiding Yeosang and Mingi's eyes as they stare at you, surprise evident in their features as they spot Yunho trailing you. You don't want to consider what they must be thinking at the look on his face. There's no chance that they won't miss the pain in his expression, and you feel sick, burdened with the knowledge that you were petty enough to sharpen your words to deadly points and wield them like weapons.
You remain silent as you walk with him to the car park - he doesn't keep in step with you, instead hovering a few paces behind. The quiet swallows you whole, smothering any rage left in your system, and you hold the lift for him, retreating to the opposite corner as he reaches out to press the button for the top floor. Out of the corner of your eye, you study him in the scratched mirror. Although you don't dare look up at his face, you can feel his gaze, and a lump forms in the back of your throat, thinking of how many times you've been tucked under his arm in the lift to his apartment, his long fingers stroking down your side.
Harshly, you swallow, reminding yourself that you can't let him in.
You can't open your heart, just for it to be broken again.
Despite this, you find your gaze straying over his reflection. He must have left his jacket at San's, because all he has on is his black t-shirt and jeans, the former of which is slightly damp down the front - someone probably spilt their drink on him, and the fabric clings to his skin in a way that makes you yearn to press him against the wall and kiss him until you're both dizzy. One of his hands is shoved in his jeans pockets; you desperately wish that you could slip your fingers in with his, just to feel his warmth and his skin against yours. Even under the crappy lift lights, he's beautiful, as beautiful as ever. It's how you've always seen him, how you always will.
The top floor of the car park is open, and during the time you were in the lift, it's begun to rain. You begin shivering, and out of your peripheral, you see Yunho lift his hand before he pulls it back quickly, as if he was going to reach out to you and tug you close before he thought better of it. His car is the only one there, seeing as it's well into the night, and he unlocks it as you walk towards it. Hesitating with your fingers on the passenger door handle, you pause, debating with yourself - he hovers on the driver's side, watching as you deliberate before choosing the backseat.
You don't want to admit it, but you want to be closer to him.
Within seconds, you're sitting next to him in the back of his car, and you're faced with the looming need to pick up your disaster of a conversation where you left off; raising your eyes to find his, relief washes through you to find them steady, the emotions in them whirling and a total mess, but not too overwhelming. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath, bracing yourself to ask the question that's been on the tip of your tongue all night. You tell yourself that you can do this, that you can pretend this doesn't hurt as much as it does, but it's quickly proven a lie when your voice comes out weak and smaller than you'd like.
'Why - why did you do it?'
A haunted look enters his eyes as he scrubs a hand over his face.'I... I don't know. She pulled me down, and I just didn't move, I just let her, because it was nice to feel wanted - ' His voice cracks. ' - even though you had always given me so much more than that. You loved me and I fucked it up. I took you for granted and - '
Harshly, he swallows, cutting himself off. His words are rushed, tight, his hands fisted in his lap as he looks away for a second, breaking eye contact and staring out into the car park as he steels himself. You're reeling from his words, from the painful honesty that laces them, like poison on a blade. There's no doubt that, even with your walls up, you still love him, because his desperation is like a knife twisted in your heart - hesitantly, you reach out, wanting to touch him, to comfort him somehow. In response, he grabs your hand, almost crushing it in his grip.
'Please,' he whispers brokenly. 'I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I - I just need you to let me love you again. I never wanted to hurt you, I - ' 'But you did, Yunho,' you reply softly, grief making your voice thick and unsteady.
His face crumples. Bringing his trembling hands to his face, he turns away to hide the tears spilling down his face, and regret shoots through you like a bullet through the heart. Gripping his hand, you pull him to face you, but suddenly you can't stop, won't stop, tugging him closer until he's in your arms. It feels so right to share space with him, and you wonder why you ever tried to get over him and push him away when he's all you ever wanted, when he's your home. Sobs wrack his body, and you press your lips to his forehead, your own tears running down your cheeks into his hair as you tighten your arms around him.
'You hurt me, Yunho,' you choke out. 'I can't deny you hurt me. But it hurt because I loved you, and I love you now. I loved you when you kissed her, and I hated myself for it, but I guess my heart knew who it was made for, because I never stopped loving you.'
His chest heaves, a great shudder running through him, and he trembles, a giant felled by your sweet, healing words. He presses his lips against your shoulder, tasting the salt of his own tears in the wet material of your shirt; his fingers twine into your hair, and you can feel the effort it takes for him to get his words out between his rattling sobs in the strain of his voice, but he does.
'I - I missed you with every breath I took while you were gone,' he says. 'I lost the best part of me when you left. I love you, I'm a fucking fool, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry - '
Gently, you press a finger against his lips, making him look up at you. His words don't matter any more, not while he's in your arms and not while you know that you should have never let him go, that you should have never let either of you try to live without the other.
'I missed you too, Yunho,' you murmur. 'And I will never stop loving you.'
At your words, he goes completely still. He's frozen for a moment, his face inches from yours. A shiver runs down his back, and his eyes dart down to your lips.
'Can I - fuck - I need - '
He's taut as a bow string, thrumming with energy, and you can see the desperation on his face - he needs your lips on his as much as he needs to breathe. And yet, he still asks. You know then, with every fibre of your being, that he's what you want, that he's the only one you'll ever want, ever love.
'Yes,' you breathe. 'Yes.'
Cold moonlight limns his features as he leans in, but there's nothing cold about the look in his eyes. One hand cups your jaw, the other cupping the nape of your neck, his long fingers warm against your skin - his breath flutters softly against your lips before he closes the gap between you. The breath is knocked from you; he's never kissed you with this sort of aching tenderness, and you sink into his touch, eyes drifting shut.
You feel like you're falling again, the way you did the first time, when you'd rant to Mingi for hours about the smallest touch or moment you shared with Yunho, except this time, you lean into the tug of gravity with an eagerness you've never felt before. Like before, you teeter on the edge of a precipice, except, this time, you know what's at the bottom; you know the exhiliration of the fall, and the deep, aching love that awaits.
You jump, arms outstretched, knowing Yunho will catch you.
After you kiss Yunho for what seems like hours, running your hands up his back and burying them into his hair, pressing him closer to you and drinking him in, he drives you home. You're still drunk on his taste as you curl into him on your sofa, talking to him about nothing in particular, just soaking in the euphoria of being in his arms again; truly, you don't notice that your words become further and further apart, and that your eyes are drooping - you're too busy listening to the soft timbre of his voice. Nothing matters to you in this moment. It's just you and him, wonderfully relaxed against each other, not allowing an inch of space between you. Honestly, you're unsure where you end and Yunho begins.
Your heart is overflowing.
You're home.
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Yunho isn't quite aware what the words leaving his mouth mean. He's too busy studying the tilt of your neck and the way your lashes fall against your face, relearning the essence of you. A smile tugs at his lips when you finally succumb to sleep, head flopping against his chest. It reminds him of the many occurences when you'd fall asleep on him while watching movies: the times before he asked you out, when he'd carefully hold you, his heart pounding in his ears, and the times after, where he'd cradle you to him, peppering kisses all over your face.
Gently, he gathers you up in his arms and carries you to your bed, laying you down and tucking the blanket from the sofa over you - he knows you hate to get under the sheets without a shower and your so called 'outside clothes' off. Planning to quietly return to his car, Yunho straightens, but a small tug at the bottom of his shirt prevents him from standing up all the way. A glance down finds your fingers fisted in the hem of the black fabric; blearily, you blink your eyes at him, peeking out from beneath the blanket.
'Stay,' you mumble. 'Please.'
Yunho's heart flutters in his chest. You're beautiful, even with your hair a mess and your eyes and face still a little red from crying, and he could never resist you. He thinks he'd do anything for you, if you'd dare ask.
This time, he's determined that he's going to marry you. He wants to be yours forever - he wants to wake up by your side every morning, he wants to come home to you, he wants to tell you he loves you in your every waking moment.
Sitting down on the mattress beside you, he lets you clamber into his arms and snuggle into his chest.
'Whatever you say, my love.'
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When you wake up the next day, you're utterly relaxed. It's as if your body knows that you're in the safest place you could ever be - in Yunho's arms. His breathing is still deep, his hair a mess, the way it always is in the mornings. You don't think you've ever felt this comfortable; the mattress seems to cradle your back, the blankets a warm cocoon around you, and Yunho is draped over you, his long limbs tangled with yours. Smiling dumbly, you kiss his fluffed up hair, carding your fingers through it. A soft laugh leaves you when you realise his mouth is half open and that he's drooling on you, his cheek pressed against your shoulder.
Extracting one arm from beneath the blankets, you scrabble around your bedside for your phone. Yunho makes a soft sleepy noise, a frown digging into his forehead, and you hush him, rubbing his back soothingly; you're terribly relaxed right now, and you don't want to get up just yet.
In fact, you're pretty sure you want to stay like this forever.
Quickly, you snap a few pictures of him on your phone, unable to resist. Scrolling through your notifications from last night, you find a text from Mingi, asking how you are - he doesn't ask why you left the party with Yunho yesterday, or how it went, but his curiosity is still evident. You open the chat, a grin making its way onto your face.
Second chance granted, you type.
And then you throw your phone back onto your bedside table, ready to enjoy your morning with the man stirring in your arms. Yunho huffs quietly as he surfaces from his dreams, his long arms tightening around you; he buries his face into your neck, pressing a sweet kiss there, then another and another. Threading your fingers into his hair, your eyes close as he mouths at the hollow of your throat. He shifts so he's more comfortably situated between your legs, and you kiss his temple.
'Mm,' you hum contentedly. 'Morning.' 'Morning, love,' he replies.
His voice is raspy - deep and familiar as it always is in the morning. A memory comes to you: one of the many mornings you spent with him in bed, the sheets tangled around your legs with his skin on yours, and your stomach flips, warm longing bubbling up inside you. Gently, you tug at his hair, and he responds immediately, something that you suspect was already semi-hard nudging at your core before he shifts back quickly.
You frown as he pulls back a little. Searching his eyes, which have brightened a good deal since he first blinked them open, you examine them for any caution, but all you find is a deep seated fire.
'What's up?' You ask softly, cupping his face. He turns his head so he can kiss your palm. 'I - I want to... but I don't want to do anything too fast if you don't want it. I know I hurt you.' Leaning in, you press your forehead against his. 'Fuck going slow, Yunho. I love you. You know I do.'
It feels wonderful to say. The infatuation soaking the words is sweet on your tongue, magnificently domestic, something you missed saying to him every day, whispering it into his hair and against his lips like an oath. You feel like you're floating, a thrum of heat flushing through your body at the look in his eyes. He's tense, his muscles rock hard under your hands, his gaze transfixed on yours. Slowly, his lips part.
'Sweetheart,' he murmurs, leaning in to kiss your neck. 'You're driving me insane.' His touch travels to your cheek, his breath ghosting over your skin. 'I love you. More than you could ever know.'
He holds your gaze for a moment, and you find yourself mesmerised by him - his hair's a mess and his t-shirt is rumpled and emotions burn in his eyes, setting you on fire.
Fuck, he's glorious.
You grab his chin, fitting your lips to his. Yunho reciprocates like a man starved, his tongue licking into your mouth, hot and wet, his fingers curling around your waist and bringing your body snug against his - your head falls back against the pillows, eyes drifting closed when his hands trail teasingly up your body to cup your breasts, pushing up the hem of your shirt. Dipping his head, he nips at your skin, and you wouldn't stop the way your hips buck up into his even if you could.
A soft noise leaves your throat when his fingers ghost over your core, and he chuckles softly; you groan his name, nails scratching lightly at his shoulder, spurring him on as gently, he pushes your legs open, smoothly moving down the bed so that he's framed between your thighs. He keeps his gaze on yours as he slips your underwear off you, a smirk tugging at his lips when a shudder wracks your body at the first touch of his fingers on your slit, your back arching - you'd be embarrassed, but there's liquid fire in your veins, and all you can think of is him.
'Fuck, Yunho,' you choke out. 'Fuck.' 'You like that?' He teases, slipping a finger inside.
A whine rips from your chest. You clamp tightly around him, vice like, and he begins to pump his fingers in and out, his lower lip trapped under his teeth as he watches your face contort in pleasure. Wickedly, he curls his fingers inside you, sending bolts of pleasure shooting white hot through you, his carnal expression turning almost sadistic, as if he's studying the exact angle at which your eyes roll back.
On your bedside table, your phone dings once, then three times more in quick succession. You know it's Mingi.
You ignore it. There are more pressing matters at hand, slotted right between your legs and pressing feather light kisses to your thighs.
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candidapple · 2 years
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Ahhhh! You opened a tumblr. Found you through your writing on Ao3, (tweels fic) your an amazing writer!! May I request more tweel poly I���m a sucker for Jade and Floyd. Maybe them pursing an s/o that really likes and knows a lot about moray eels? Also, do you do commissions??
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a/n: hello and thank you, new friend! i'm still figuring out how i'd like to do commissions, but i'll let you know if/when i open them up. in the meantime, have a fic. divider by @/firefly-graphics.
jade & floyd leech x gn!reader. sfw.
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You’re almost certain you’re being followed.
You halt in your tracks and whip around to look behind you, the musty old book you meant to return clutched to your chest like a shield. The nape of your neck is still prickling from the persistent sense of being watched, but the aisle you’re in is empty, devoid of so much as a featureless shadow vanishing around the corner to validate your concerns. Even so, you know — or think you know — that you weren’t just imagining it.
The thing is, this isn’t the first time you’ve felt this way. You can’t pinpoint the exact moment it began, but sometime over the last few days, in between classes and Grim wrangling, you gradually became convinced that you were being… observed. Assessed, even, like a bug under a microscope. That feeling is especially strong whenever you’re alone, which is why you almost didn’t make your usual Saturday morning trek to the library. In the end, your stubborn commitment to finding a way home despite the growing odds against you won out.
But now, with the towering bookcases looming to either side of you and casting deep shadows where there should be light as you strain your eyes and ears for some indication that it isn’t all in your head, you are beginning to regret that decision.
Of course, you can only stand around looking at nothing for so long. When no one materializes from the shadows to leap on you like a horror movie monster, you slump and sigh in equal parts disappointment and relief and turn back in the direction you were headed. The book in your arms looked promising, but it ultimately failed to yield so much as a cryptic hint for how to go about inter-dimensional travel, so back on the shelf it goes. You find the gap in the shelf where it belongs and reach up to slot it into place, giving it a nudge when it initially refuses to slide all the way in. You sigh again. So much for that, huh?
With that taken care of you, you turn to leave — but you don’t make it very far. Two long shadows rise up in front of you, and you don’t even get a chance to react before your wrists are being seized and pinned to the shelves on either side of your head. You flinch away from your attackers — oh shit, oh shit, what the hell is going on — and realize too late that the back of your skull is on a collision course with the shelf. You are spared a concussion, however, when another hand slips neatly behind your head to cushion the blow. A gloved thumb slides down the nape of your neck, and the goosebumps from earlier return with a shivering vengeance. You look up.
Well. At least now you have a pretty good idea as to who’s been following you all this time.  
“Jade!” you blurt. Your eyes slide from Jade’s smiling face to his brother’s toothy grin. “Floyd. What are you guys doing?”
“Just saying hi,” Floyd says, like they just happened to spot you in the hall and haven’t pinned you to a bookcase of all things. “C’mon, Shrimpy, don’t tell me you’re not happy to see us.”
You squirm a little, testing their grip, but their fingers only tighten in response. Great. “I’d probably be happier if you two hadn’t jumped out of nowhere and grabbed me.” You frown at them, as if they’ve ever been the sort to be moved by righteous disapproval. “I wasn’t imagining it, was I? You’ve been following me.”
“Have we unnerved you, Prefect?” Jade asks. “If so, we do apologize. The last thing we want is to make you uncomfortable.”
Somehow — you test their hold on you once again to no avail — you very much doubt that. Jade’s left hand is wrapped around your wrist, and his right is cradling your jaw to cup your skull, palm cushioning your cheek. The tip of his thumb skirts the thin, vulnerable skin beneath your eye, and you can’t help but flinch.
“Yeah,” you huff, trying your damnedest to hang on to your bravado. “I’m sure. What’s the big idea, you two? What’ve you been following me around for?”
“Ah,” Jade says, “that.” Like it’s only just occurred to him to explain. God, why is everyone at this school such a weirdo? “Once again, we apologize for frightening you, but it’s in our nature to sit back and observe that which we find… interesting. To lie in wait, one might say.”
“It’s the moray way,” Floyd adds, giggling at the awkward rhyme.
You’re still stuck on something Jade said. Blinking slowly, you say, “You guys think… I’m… interesting?”
“You are a bit of an oddity, Prefect.” You grimace. “Apologies. I meant no offense. But you are rather unique, aren’t you? Certainly amongst our peers. It was inevitable that you’d catch our interest.”
“Yeah.” Floyd leans in closer, pressing your wrist back against the bookcase and forcing you to crane your neck to meet his heterochromatic eyes. “We wanna get to know you better.”
“What,” you say, “you guys want to be friends?”
Jade’s eyes glimmer, like he’s laughing at a joke you don’t understand. “Mmm, yes. I suppose you could say that.”
“I wouldn’t say it,” Floyd grumbles. Is he — is he pouting? Is he a college student or a preschooler?
You must give Floyd an odd look, because something you can’t quite interpret flickers across his face, and then his mood swings back the other way and his pout stretches into a grin. And keeps stretching, growing far wider than you think should be possible, until all of his serrated teeth are on display and his mouth is practically hanging open. You don’t mean to, but you gulp.
Floyd leans toward you, and you lean back — not very far, considering your current position. You can see the damp inner rims of his lips, the saliva gleaming on his teeth and tongue, even down his throat. For a moment, your unevolved hindbrain is convinced you’re about to be eaten alive.
But — hold on. Your undoubtedly panicked expression morphs into a thoughtful frown, and you actually lean closer to Floyd, squinting at him. Or rather, down his throat.
“Hey,” you say slowly, “is that — do you have a second set of jaws?”
Floyd’s mouth snaps shut with an audible click of teeth, and he rocks back on his heels to frown at you. Even Jade, unflappable as he is, looks mildly confused.
“What?” says Floyd.
Now you feel like the weirdo, but you wish he’d open his mouth again. “You guys are morays, right? You have pharyngeal jaws, don’t you? I saw.”
Jade and Floyd exchange a look. Floyd frowns again, and Jade arches an eyebrow. They turn back to you, and Floyd says, “You know about that?”
You nod eagerly — then stop. People aren’t always receptive to your enthusiasm for the topic, let alone your infodumping, and Floyd and Jade probably aren’t interested in hearing facts about themselves that they already know. “Um, yeah. Back home, I was really into marine biology. Especially eels. Especially, um…” You flush. “Moray eels.”
Floyd’s hand flexes around your wrist. You don’t know if that’s a good sign or a bad one. “You like moray eels?” He tilts his head, earring swaying gently. “You’re not scared of us?”
“I mean, it is pretty scary when someone grabs you and pins you to a bookshelf,” you say dryly. “So maybe don’t do that again? But I’m not scared of you because you’re mermen. I think that’s amazing. We don’t have people like that in my world.”
You bite your lip and fidget, expecting them to make fun of you now. But they don’t, which is especially unexpected coming from Jade. The twins exchange another look, and then Floyd leans down and opens his mouth wide, tongue hanging out. He even goes “aaah” like someone getting their tongue depressed at the doctor’s.
Part of you is afraid that this might be some kind of trap, like if you get too close Floyd’s gonna bite your nose off or something. But, well — you never had a chance to observe morays up close back home, and you can’t resist this opportunity now that it’s presented itself so agreeably. So you lean up and peer down Floyd’s throat, and there they are: a second set of sharp, deadly, gorgeous teeth.
You fall back on your heels, unable to stop grinning. “Oh, wow. I’ve never seen a pharyngeal jaw in person before, that’s — that’s just so cool.”
Floyd shuts his mouth and smiles at you, his eyes sparkling like your excitement is infectious. “You really think so?”
“Uh-huh.” You smile back at him, then hesitate. “I, um. Are you sure you don’t mind me asking these kinds of questions? I don’t wanna make you feel like animals at the zoo.” Or eels at the aquarium, as the case may be.
“No,” says Jade. “No, we don’t mind.” He smiles kindly at you, thumb caressing your cheek, and warmth flares from deep within your belly. Uh-oh.
“After all,” Jade goes on, “we can certainly empathize with the strength of your curiosity.”
Oh. Right. You suppose they can. “Speaking of.” You wiggle your fingers pointedly. “Would you mind letting me go now?”
Floyd gives you a suspicious look. “You’re not gonna run away if we do, are you?”
You actually laugh. “No, I’m not. I’ll even tell you more about me, since you’re so curious — so long as you tell me more about you. Fair?”
Because when it comes to Octavinelle students, you can’t get something for nothing. Jade seems to approve of your tactics, if his knowing smile is any indication. “It’s a deal,” he says, and lets you go. Floyd does too, after a moment. He sticks his hands in his pockets and tips his head at you.
“Well? What d’you wanna know, Shrimpy?”
“How many vertebrae do you have in your true forms?” you ask immediately. “Wait, no — do you engage in cooperative hunting? Wait, wait —”
Jade’s soft laughter seems to walk down your spine like tickling fingers, and you fight back a shiver. “Now, now. We’ve already assuaged some of that burning curiosity of yours, dear Prefect. It’s only fair that we get to ask the next question, don’t you think?”
Floyd takes your hand, and Jade presses his to the small of your back, urging you down the aisle toward the library’s rows of reading tables and carrel desks.
“Now, tell us.” Jade’s fingers curl in your school blazer, gently proprietary. “Are you free this evening?”
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thesmokingguns · 1 year
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Married At First Sight Chapter 7
A/n: everyone’s married! Did you expect the couples to be with who they’re with?
It’s all or nothing.
Tonight on Married at First sight our last two couples will be revealed. They will come together for the first time or maybe not the first time for every couple. Will everyone make it to their wedding reception or are old feelings too hard to overcome? Find out tonight on Married at First Sight.
The exhale of air, a deep breath. Nora was outside of the room she was going to get married in. Her heart thundering as she looked at producers, cameras rolling as they got ready to film her walking towards her future. Nora wasn’t nervous but she was already craving another cigarette as she thought about what sort of person she could be marrying. She hoped whoever she was going to be with loved traveling and dogs. It would be a huge bonus if they liked to hold hands and watch movies under blankets stolen from beds on a couch.
There was so much that she didn’t know going into this but she was really excited for the opportunity to meet her soulmate. This was what she was thinking to be her only chance for her happily ever after and she wanted to seize it after so many not happily ever afters.
Nora swished her dress, looking down at the dried pampas with sprigs of pink and soft lavender. She loved her bouquet, even though it wasn't fragrant like so many others. But it suited her and she was looking forward to having something she could save and look at. Maybe put it on her vanity table next to her perfumes and-.
Nora’s eyes widened, the realization hitting her as she gathered her skirts in her hands as she took off running. She had forgotten to put on the perfume, something that was a small detail but she wanted her groom to know she was the right person. She wanted him to smell the scent he had picked out for her as they stood together, ready to join in matrimony as man and wife.
What Nora didn’t know was as she had taken off sprinting, leaving behind a pair of heels where her feet had been, the doors had opened revealing just a swish of skirts as everyone gasped collectively at the runaway bride.
She dabbed her wrists together, swearing as she spritzed her neck, turning and rushing from the bridal suite and back towards where her shoes were. Noras was shoving her feet in them when she looked up, realizing that a bunch of startled expressions were facing her, including her grooms.
“Oh shit.” Once more she was picking up her skirts, rushing down the aisles as her friends all smirked. Of course Nora was late to her own wedding.
Nikki couldn’t help but smile as she ran toward him, her legs peeking out from her skirt as she rushed forward. He took a step to meet her, catching her as she made it to the altar, spinning her around as he smelled the ‘Love Story’ potion that he had made for her. The way she laughed as he twirled her onto the altar made Nikki’s heart flutter, setting her down he didn’t expect her to pull him in for a kiss.
Magic.
That was the word Nikki would use describing their first kiss. It changed everything about him. As soon as their lip touched this warm flow filled him and he could feel the way the tips of his fingers were made of electricity. His soon to be wife, her name still unknown to him, held his hair, keeping them connected as Nikki held her hips, pulling her closer to him as he thought with this girl by my side I can move mountains.
Someone cleared their throat and they pulled away from each other's lips but not from each other's embrace. She smiled up at him, pretty blue eyes with these golden green centers twinkling up at him.
“I’m Nora. I’m sorry I was late. Bad habit.” She shrugged her shoulders, eyes on NIkki’s green ones, heart thumping half out of her chest as she thought about kissing him again. Which she did because Nora had no impulse control.
Nikki was smiling against her lips, this magnetic pull of him towards his wife exceeding even the best dreams of his wedding day. His Nora. Nora and Nikki. Forever a hopeless romantic he was even surprised by how easy this was.
“I’m Nikki.” He finally said to her as they pulled away, looking at each other with easy smiles. Nora was the type of beauty that Nikki drooled over. Her dark hair and blue eyes, short enough he could rest his chin on. She had this aura around her that was positive but he could see in the shadows of her eyes that there was some darkness that laid in her soul.
His whole life this was what he wanted and he felt spoiled getting this much passion so soon. It felt like he had struck gold with his soon to be wife. Nora was nervous and when Nikki held her hand she bit her lip to hide a smile, such a small little motion and he was already thinking of kissing her again.
“Now that you two have skipped to the kissing part of the ceremony, are you ready to backtrack and get married?” joked the officiant. Nora scrunched up her nose and looked at Nikki, eyes twinkling in mischief.
“I mean, I’m not opposed to another kiss from…Nikki?” As soon as she said his name they were kissing again. Everyone laughed at the pair of them, their instant chemistry and ability to kiss like they had known each other for months instead of minutes. When he pulled away Nora nodded her head, “Okay, I think we’re ready now.”
The wedding ceremony was quick, neither of them seeming to be paying attention to the words as they looked at each other. Nora mouthed ‘hi’ and Nikki knew he had a crush on his wife at that point as he mouthed ‘hi’ back. They were both attracted to each other, it was plain as day to see that.
The officiant cleared their throat and Nikki and Nora turned from staring into each other's eyes to where they blinked looking at the officiant.
“I do” they both said at the same time, turning to give each other those dopey smiles. The officiant shook their head, the crowd all talking among themselves because they could feel what a good match the two were.
“Okay, we can skip all the words but can you two at least put rings on each other first.” Nikki didn't want to let go of Nora’s hand, even for a second to dig out the rings but she was letting go, reaching into her bodice, Nikki’s eyes following as she pulled out a silver band.
“It might be a bit warm.” she teased and Nikki smirked as she slid it on, raising it to her lips and kissing the spot where the ring was now. The small gesture had him reeling, realizing his almost wife was as sentimental as him.
The ring Nikki got was a thin band of diamonds and rubies. He had known it was a risk going with something that wasn’t traditional but as he slid it on Nora’s finger her eyes beamed and he could see the pleasure written across her face. He liked how expressional she was with her face, easy to read.
“How did you know my birthstone was a ruby?” she asked, watching Nikki bring her hand up and kissing the band just as she had done on his hand. It was a small gesture but romantic enough her heart fluttered.
“Intuition.” Nikki responded, wondering now if it was a soulmate intervention. Maybe everything about today had been fate. All his life leading up to this moment with his wife. It felt like it was the two of them alone in some private ceremony, he would talk to her about it later maybe tonight or their honeymoon. Wondering if she got the same feeling that he did where his vision blurred at the edges and only Nora was in focus.
“Okay, before you two go off the rails again.” the officiant made the guests laugh, Nikki hadn’t realized he had raised his hand to cup Nora’s face, her cheek leaning against him as she looked up at him. How did they match him with her? How did they know? “Introducing for the very first time Mr. and Mrs. Sixx.” Nora smiled with her teeth as everyone clapped, standing up to celebrate them, “You may-”
Nikki was already leaning in, kissing her as Nora wrapped her arms around him letting him deepen their kiss so their tongues danced against each other. Both of them, eyes closed clinging to the other person and ready to start their life together. People started to leave to head to the reception before the newly weds broke apart, slightly out of breath and giving the other a look as if they didn’t know if this could really be happening.
“I think we’re going to be very happy, Mrs. Sixx.” Nikki said as Nora laced their fingers together, heart thundering. She knew he was right.
Tommy bounced on his feet, the dress shoes he was wearing pinched his toes and he had a soft buzz of a headache from having drank too much with the boys. But he had made it to the aisle and to what was his soon to be bride.
This all was a bit shocking to Tommy. He had been surprised when he had interviewed with the experts the kind of questions that they had asked him. He knew this was a reality TV show and knew there had been moderate success in marriage with some couples but he had been actually shocked at how in depth the process was. Questions about his religious belief, his everyday life, what his bedroom life was like and what he expected or desired from a partner. He had joked around with Sixx that it was like therapy but Nikki had said it was so they were matched with people they were actually compatible with, which made sense. But inside the pit of his stomach Tommy worried he was unmatchable.
Even as he stood in his suit, waiting for his bride he felt like this was some cruel joke all his friends were on and he’d go home tonight and be the same bachelor who fell in love easily and fucked things up with the same effortless ease. His parents sat in the front row, unsure about this all but going along with it because they had a love story and knew the power that love had over people.
Tommy wanted a love like that. The everlasting, cuts through all the bullshit sort of love.
His eyes lifted as the doors opened, his bride wearing a tight dress, flared at the bottom and looking like a goddess as she moved down the aisle. He couldn’t see her face clearly under the veil but he smiled when he caught sight of the one lily that was in her bouquet. She had gotten the flowers that he had sent to her and had included part of it in their wedding day. Tommy was thankful she had liked them; he had been so unsure what to give a stranger for a gift.
Melody could barely see out of the veil she was wearing, wishing she hadn’t let her mother and Aunt talk her into the traditional garb. Her eyes were on her feet, praying she didn’t trip over the heavy bottom of her gown as she moved closer and closer to her husband. If she ever got married again it would be in a bikini in Hawaii, she decided right there. At least she could move her legs in that.
A hand reached out, helping her up the platform.
“Can I lift your veil?” Melody heard a muffled voice, her ears were red, the rush of blood to her head. But she nodded, feeling fingers on the gauze of material and the coolness of the air on her face as she faced her soon to be husband, “MELODY?” Tommy’s voice was loud and threw her off as she looked at her one night stand from almost a year ago in front of her.
All that dry heaving upstairs finally came up as Melody bent over, throwing up on Tommy’s shoes before falling backwards in a faint.
Tommy had changed his shoes into a pair of converses he had packed upstairs and was waiting for Melody who had recovered from her fainting spell to meet him on the balcony and talk about the fact that they were not going to be marrying a stranger; Tommy had gone on one date with Melody, a date that had gone exceeding well.
She had slept over at his house after they had gone to dinner together, they had made breakfast together after a shower the next morning. She had let him give her a ride to her car that she had left at the restaurant. But the call she had promised to give him as she kissed him goodbye in his car never came and when he had gone to call her number it was to a pizza place who had laughed at him and told him they couldn’t help him. Tommy had been played by this girl.
And now he was supposed to marry her.
Melody rounded the corner, nerves completely shot as she saw Tommy sitting down and smoking a cigarette. She was embarrassed and knew that he was mad at her for ghosting him and probably mad she just puked on him in front of their wedding guests. It was more uncomfortable that the cameras were there, filming their first real conversation since everything happened.
“I owe you an explanation.” Melody was twisting her hands. Tommy looked up at her, motioned for her to sit but she was too scared to do so.
“I know what happened.” Tommy said, looking at her with eyes that were full of kindness that she didn't feel like she deserved. “I could smell the booze on my shoes.” she reddened and he laughed, trying to show her that everything was in the past now. Trying to give her room to not bare her soul in front of the cameras if she didn’t want to.
But Melody did want to be strong and she needed to tell her story.
“You were the first date I went on in three years. I had been in a relationship and he was cheating on me with my boss. When I found out I lost my boyfriend, my apartment and my job in one clean swoop. I met you by chance at the dry cleaner and we went out that night and…I had nothing to give to you and I wasn't in a place to be with someone who, who I liked because I wasn’t good enough.” Melody was embarrassed admitting all of this but she had grown a lot in a year and knew she was in a different place in her life than when she met Tommy the first time, “But I know that this is supposed to be a stranger and we..well…aren’t so if you don’t want to go through with this I get it. Plus, I have a bad hangover and threw up on your shoes.” Tommy stood up, flicking his cigarette away as he looked at Melody.
“I want to marry you. I trust this process. And I trust you for sharing that with me. Are you ready to be Mrs. Lee and turn that hangover into a new buzz?” Tommy asked, watching the relief wash over her face as she nodded.
“So lets get married and do this fucking thing, honey.” At that point Melody thought he was going to high five her but instead Tommy was slapping her ass and grabbing her hand, dragging her back into the reception hall so that they could get married.
Nora and Nikki were finally alone, moving to the balcony after their reception and seeming to be able to keep their paws off each other for a second. They had to put a small table between them which Nikki was already walking around, reaching for his wife's hip to pull her closer into his body.
“I asked for sparkling water instead of champagne.” Nikki tensed at this, wondering if she knew about him, “I have a family history of problems with alcohol and when I was younger I, well…I choose not to drink now.” Nora was honest but she also felt very vulnerable and uncomfortable around Nikki for the first time.
It was less about feeling uncomfortable with him and more about the fact that she just shared something that was really personal with the world; the cameras were rolling and her secret was now out there for everyone to know. Nora didn’t talk to her family and knew that when they saw this it would just be hateful things that they would spew. She was the black sheep and they outed her from their inner circle, making her have to make it on her own.
“I don’t drink.” Nikki said. Nora looked up at him when he said this wondering if he was just trying to ease her discomfort or if he was being honest with her about this. “I overdosed on drugs a while ago, died for a minute there and then went to rehab.” She was staring at him, her eyes big as she suddenly wrapped her arms around him, holding him close to her as Nikki wrapped his arms around his wife.
“I’m glad it was you, Nikki. At the end of that altar, catching me as I ran to you. I’m so glad that it was you.” He felt so happy at that moment. His wife's pleasure with him, the way she was holding him, making him feel cared for and loved.
This was what Nikki had been missing in his life.
“Let's make a toast.” Nora was handing him a glass of the sparkling water, her eyes shining as she looked at Nikki, thankful she had been honest in their interviews because she was sure he was everything she wanted and needed in her life. “To us, the…what's our name again?” Nikki kissed her then, it had been too many minutes since he had done it.
But this kiss was tender. Warm. Different from the hurried passion that they had experienced moments before. This was the kiss that made Nora’s heart flutter and Nikki realized that no matter how this all turned out he was going to be a changed man.
“To us, Mr. and Mrs. Sixx, rewriting our family legacy and finding a lifetime of happiness.” Nikki toasted her glass, the soft clink making their water shake before they took a sip, happy to be together.
“You may now kiss your bride.” Tommy grabbed each side of Melody’s face, knowing what it was like to kiss her already but feeling like if he didn’t seize his chance now she would shy away from it.
She gasped, surprised, remembering now what it was like to kiss Tommy. The memories of their first date flooding back. The Mexican restaurant, skinny dipping in his pool, watching movies in the bathtub, cooking breakfast the next morning. Then the feeling of looking at his number, memorizing the digits as she thought about calling a dozen times and yet never being able to do it.
And now he was her husband.
Tommy was pulling her down the aisle, her dress so tight he got fed up with her slow pace and picked her up in his arms as he moved outside, spinning with her in his arms. Melody half afraid he was going to drop her, half afraid she had agreed to marry a complete lunatic.
The producers had followed them out, telling them that to keep on schedule they would need to go to do pictures instead of having a half of a second to let it sink in that they were really married to each other.
Tommy set her down on her feet, taking a hand in his as they followed behind the camera, slow enough that Melody could tell that he was trying to savor the couple minutes that they had to themselves. He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm as they made it to where they would be taking their first pictures as a married couple. Their first pictures as any sort of couple.
“Mel, honey.” she usually hated it when people shortened her name like that but coming from Tommy it fit him and she liked that he was trying to be close to her, even though her nerves were completely shot from the fact she had married the man she had ghosted. “Please, don’t runaway from me, again. If we can do anything in this marriage I want it to be being able to talk to each other about anything. And I know that’s hard because I’ll probably fuck stuff up but…” Tommy paused, looking at her in a way that made Melody know that he was serious about this, “We are strangers, honey. I know that but I want to be a good husband to you. I signed up for this whole circus because that morning we made eggs together and you told me I had been frying bacon wrong my whole life, I mean, that was something I never knew I needed until you showed me.” Melody was shaking and Tommy felt unsure of what to do.
Soft tears coming from the corners of her eyes she threw herself at Tommy, wrapping her arms around him as he held her to him.
“I’m so glad I’m getting a second chance with you.” she admitted, letting Tommy squeeze her as he lifted her slightly off her feet, “I couldn’t live with myself knowing you still didn’t know how to make eggs right.” he set her down, jaw dropping slightly at the way his wife had just teased him.
They say lightning doesn’t strike the same place twice but he was sure that was what Melody had done with him.
“Maybe you two can not kiss in every picture?” the photographer gently said as Nikki and Nora looked at him, their eyes soft and hooded from the pleasure of kissing each other. “How about you two hold hands, or do that.” The photographer watched Nikki wrap his arms around her, Nora facing the camera as they looked at each other, not having to even try with the emotions that they both had.
They liked their spouse a lot.
Nikki’s mouth came down kissing her shoulder as Nora watched him until his eyes were back on hers. He was a pro at this whole photography thing and was spinning her, Nora’s dress rising as she laughed. The sound made him smile. She turned to him and she was gathering her skirts up, running towards him as Nikki caught her in his arms again, holding his bride.
“You’re going to be a pro at catching me by the end of the night.” Nora teased. Nikki easing her down as he watched his bride, so happy and full of life. He was thankful for the ease she had, it made it less difficult for him. They could instantly be themselves around each other and there was nothing difficult about it.
“I’m going to be a pro at a lot of things by the morning.” there was something about the way Nikki said that which made Nora very aware that he had plans for their wedding night. With the instant attraction she felt for him she had been thinking a similar thing but hearing it aloud made it real.
“Why should we wait?” she asked, forgetting they were being photographed. Nikki was leaning down his lips against her ear as Nora closed her eyes as his breath tickled her, making her shiver in anticipation.
“That waiting makes it better.”
Tommy wasn’t into dancing. He could see that Melody was still uncomfortable. Even after meeting the families and cutting their cake. They had eaten dinner, if you could count the three bites that she had taken out of dinner but she still seemed a bit tense. The only thing that made Tommy relax a bit was how she reached out a few times, placing her hand on his thigh or grabbing his hand. She was reminding him it wasn’t him that made her nervous just everything going on around them
“And now, can we please welcome Mr. and Mrs. Lee out to the dance floor for their first dance?” their wedding Dj made them both look up. Tommy knowing they needed to do this, one of the last things they had to do before he got Melody back alone.
He remembered her differently. This vibrant girl who had this knack for having fun. She had let him feed her at the restaurant, had jumped into his pool sans clothes, held his hand as he flipped the omelet. She was reserved now and he wanted to know what happened to make her this way. Tommy was thankful he had met her before, his parents had also been thankful when he had confirmed they had a date a year ago. Feeling less like he was just jumping into trouble. Tommy usually didn't need details about the past from girls but he needed to know what had happened to her to make Mel ghost him like that and change so much in a short period of time.
“You didn’t ask what song I picked.” Melody’s voice brought Tommy back. He looked at her, knowing she was well aware that he was in a band and who his band was, “It’s going to start playing Home Sweet Home.” The look he gave her made Melody laugh. Even Tommy had to smirk, glad she was cracking jokes with him.
His hand was on her lower back as Jon Bon Jovi’s ‘I’ll Be There For You’ started to play and Tommy watched her shrug her shoulders at him, that playful smirk was still on her face as they started to shuffle, neither of them big dances.
Soft clinking, forks on glass made them look around, knowing what it meant and looking at each other in understanding. Tommy leaned down, kissing her surprised at how she was so open to kissing him back.
“I can’t wait for you to get me out of this dress.” the low, soft flirt had Tommy stunned. Maybe all he had to do was get his wife alone and he would find out more about her. He was looking for an exit sign, dancing them over them as she laughed, “We can’t just dance out of our wedding reception.” she teased him.
But Tommy didn’t play by the rules and was grabbing her hand and pulling her into a run as they rushed away from the chords of the Jon Bon Jovi songs in search of their room.
Nora was sitting on Nikki’s lap, feeding him bits of food and giving him kisses instead of water to wash it down with. The pair of them were enjoying their wedding, meeting each other's friends as they made rounds. Everyone was shocked at how easy the pair had fit together, not seeming to have any awkward bumps. They were similar in a lot of ways, that air of easiness and smooth smiles around them.
“We have a plan for our first dance, right?” Nora checked in as Nikki nodded, biting the strawberry that she was feeding him. His tongue darting out to lick the juices off her fingers, Nora appeasing him before moving her wet fingers to her own mouth.
The doors burst open and they looked over at Tommy and Melody standing in their reception hall. Tommy looked around wildly and Nikki smirked, helping Nora to her feet as Tommy rushed over. Nora moved over to hug Melody, the two girls chatting as Tommy and Nikki started talking a mile a minute.
“We should all take a picture together.” Nora suggested making Nikki reach for her, pulling her close to him as Tommy watched, slightly jealous by how easy they seemed to be getting along with each other. But Melody could sense his unease and reached for him, weaving her hand on his arm, resting her head on Tommy’s bicep.
“You’re Nikki, right? You’re in Motley Crue with Tommy?” Melody asked. Nora’s nose wrinkled, looking up at Nikki who hadn’t talked to her about what his job was yet. Nora knew that they were a big band, she didn’t really listen to them but she knew they were a big deal.
“I’m Nikki. The other half of the terror twins.” he joked and Nora felt like she was outside of the joke, “This is Nora, my wife.” he was trying to bring her into the conversation, this being the quietest she had been all night.
Everyone was introduced and they got a few pictures before it was time for Nikki and Nora to dance. And Nora was quiet as they walked to the dance floor, her mind reeling with the news that he was in a band. She didn’t want to be married to someone who was in a band, a famous band at that. All sorts of insecurities were rising in her stomach and she felt unsure as Nikki grabbed her hand, trying to make eye contact with his wife.
But the song started and they were moving together, Nora in his arms before she fell back whipping her hair. Nikki smirked, when she had told him that she had picked Time of my Life and asked if he could do the dance with her he was sure he could not. But it mattered to her so he asked her to explain some moves and decided to try. Nora’s back was to him and he lifted her chin to kiss her as she looked at him, those blue eyes slightly scared, something Nikki never wanted his wife to be worried.
He’d do this damn dance. Hoping that it would bring back her smile.
Spinning her away and back to him he started to dance, definitely not as good as Patrick Swayze but who could compete with that guy? Nora knew the dance by heart, she had seen Dirty Dancing too many times and had warned Nikki about it. But when she said pick her up he did, watching her do a split in the air and watching her flushed face, the excitement coming back as her first dance started going well. He couldn’t do the jumping off the stage solo like Patrick Swayze either but he danced with her during the part, feeling her smile against his neck. He spun her away from him, the big move coming.
Everyone had seen Dirty Dancing and they watched Nora twirl to the edge of the dance floor, standing in front of Tommy who was trying to figure out how they managed to coordinate their first dance when he was sure they never met.
She went running across the floor, Nikki reaching for her and lifting her up off the ground as everyone burst into applause. Nikki slid her down his chest, looking at his wife, who was now all smiles.
“No one puts Mrs. Sixx in a corner.”
Next time on Married at First Sight. Our six couples have made it through their wedding day but what is going to happen on their wedding night? Will sparks fly or will backs break from sleeping on the floor? Find out next time on Married at First Sight.
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sundove88 · 3 years
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10 Underrated Animated Movies Everyone NEEDS to watch!
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1. Legend of The Guardians: The Owls of Ga’Hoole (93/100)
If you like owls, watch this!
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2. Cats Don’t Dance (88/100)
It’s Sing, but BETTER!
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3. Atlantis: The Lost Empire (80/100)
An adventure movie that should be more appreciated.
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4. Titan AE (80/100)
Same description as Atlantis.
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5. Thumbelina (85/100)
Surprisingly faithful to the original story!
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6. The Last Unicorn (93/100)
A TRULY underrated fantasy!
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7. Quest For Camelot (90/100)
It’s not everyday you see Arthurian Legend in animation!
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8. The Emperor’s New Groove (100/100)
Trust me, you’ll laugh every ten seconds!
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9. Big Fish and Begonia (93/100)
A wonderful adaption of The Little Mermaid.
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10. All Cartoon Saloon Movies (100/100)
The Irish Ghibli. No other words.
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I Was A Bet, You Were A Distraction (K.SJ/M.YG)
Warnings : swearing, drinking, betting on feelings
Word Count : 4941
Synopsis : a relationship started on a bet, a classic trope, but with a twist.
I knew the rumours that circulated about me. I knew what everyone thought of me, but it never bothered me. Being an ice queen and keeping everyone at an arms length keeps my heart safe. Guys still tried to break me, wanting to be known as the person who broke the ice queen, but I’ve never cracked.
           “Another rejection?” My best friend, Park Jimin, pouted as he sat across from me. “You really should give someone a chance. You’re obviously not going to make a move on library guy.”
           “His name is Min Yoongi.” I cut him off, a playful smile on my face as he rolled his eyes. “Besides, that guy was gross. He literally told me he could show me a fun time if I just showed him a pretty smile.”
           “Okay, gross.” Jimin chuckled. “But please, if a non-gross guy asks you out, just give it a shot. They could surprise you.” I rolled my eyes, reluctantly agreeing to the only guy I’ve ever had a soft spot for.
           “Hey, Y/N.” Someone said as Jimin and I were getting ready to leave the café and grab dinner. When I turned around, I met the eyes of the infamous Kim Seokjin, standing there with a nervous smile on his face. “I was wondering if you wanted to get dinner with me sometime?” His eyes looked hopeful, but it didn’t phase me. I heard the rumours; heard the stories of the many girls he’s been with. I refused to be another notch in his belt. But before I could reject him, Jimin jumped in.
           “She’d love to!” Seokjin looked over to my best friend who had thrown his arm across my shoulders, and then looked at me for confirmation.
           “Sure, Kim Seokjin.” I didn’t bother faking a smile. I’m sure he’d heard the rumours about me. I’m sure he just wants to be the one to crack me. He’s always enjoyed a challenge.
           “Great! Uh, here’s my number. Text me.” He handed me a piece of paper ripped from a notebook with his number scrawled on it. I took it from him, telling him I’d text him later, and walked away as fast as I could.
           “I thought you said non-gross guy, Jimin!” I hit him lightly as we walked away from the café. “Kim Seokjin is one of the grossest!”
           “Yes, but he’s got money, babe. I did you a favour.” He lightly shoved me with his shoulder, and I couldn’t help but laugh and roll my eyes. I suppose one date couldn’t hurt. I’ll get some good food out of it at the very least.
*
         “Here, drink some water.” Yoongi looked up at me from his textbooks with wide eyes. He quietly thanked me as I took my usual seat across from him. I took quick glances up at him every once in a while as I studied, thinking about the first day I took the seat across from him.
           I used to study at the café as I waited for Jimin to get out of dance. But random guys would always interrupt me, and I found myself barely getting any studying done. So I decided to study at the library for a couple hours before heading to the café to meet Jimin per our tradition.
           Min Yoongi, known as the ice king, would always sit alone. Sitting with him was my best bet in getting any work done, knowing he wouldn’t bother me. He seemed annoyed when I first sat down, but when he saw it was me, didn’t say a word. No one dared bothered us when we were together.
           It didn’t take a genius to see how handsome Min Yoongi was. I always found myself sneaking glances at him while we studied, unable to keep my eyes off of him. We spoke a few words to each other over these last few months, and that was enough for me to give into my growing crush.
           “Hey, Y/N?” He softly asked as I began packing up. I seized my movements, looking up at the gorgeous man I can’t stop thinking about. “I heard you were the best at this, would you mind tutoring me sometime? I’ve been having a hard time grasping it.” He pointed to a homework booklet he was given that was still completely blank save for his name in the top right corner.
           “I got to go meet up with a friend, but,” I ripped a corner off from one of my notebooks and quickly scrawled my number on it, sliding it across from him. “Text me and we can figure something out.” He looked up at me with a small smile on his face, and I could swear time stopped. I quickly shook myself out of the trance his smile put me in and packed up the rest of my books before walking to the café, a lovesick smile on my face.
*
         I was dressed in my best dress, my hair and makeup done to the best of my abilities, and I couldn’t help but smile at myself in the mirror. “Who knew my best friend was so hot.” Jimin joked over Facetime, a playful smile on his face.
           “I can’t believe you convinced me to actually go on a date with Kim Seokjin.” I grumbled, collapsing on my couch as I waited for him.
           “It didn’t take much convincing. I know apart of you is excited to live the rich life for one night.” I giggled, but we both knew he was right. When the doorbell rang, I said my goodbyes to Jimin and went to answer it, surprised to see Seokjin standing there in a tailored suit holding a bouquet of flowers.
           “Wow, you look, wow.” I chuckled, taking the flowers he was holding out for me. Quickly, I filled a vase with water and placed them inside before sliding on a pair of heels and grabbing my purse.
           “You know you could have just texted that you were here.” I pointed out as he opened the car door for me.
           “How am I supposed to sweep you off your feet if I do that?” He smiled before closing the door and rushing to his side.
           As much as I hate to admit it, I actually enjoyed the time I spent with Jin. He was a complete gentleman right up to the end. And there wasn’t any awkward silence; conversation seemed to flow easily. I found myself laughing at his jokes and his stories. Time just seemed to fly by while I was with him as he wasn’t dropping me off until after midnight. “You certainly surprised me tonight, Kim Seokjin.” I smiled.
           “Does that mean you’ll go on a second date with me?” I found myself agreeing before I could stop myself. Maybe this is exactly what I needed to get over my one-sided crush on Min Yoongi. He’d be a good distraction.
*
         “I hear our resident Ice Queen got a boyfriend.” Yoongi teased as I sat across from him. Ever since our first date, Jin and I have been spending more time together. I still keep up my regular schedule of studying with Yoongi until I have to leave to meet up with Jimin, but Jin and his friends have decided to join us. It’s been 2 months since my first date with Jin, and 1 month since we’ve made it official.
           “Now it’s time for our resident Ice King to get a girlfriend.” I teased back, taking a sip of the coffee Yoongi bought me. He’s made it a daily thing, buying my favourite coffee before I come, and I bring us water since we’re usually here for a couple hours together.
           “Unlikely.” He chuckled. My heart started to pound as I looked up at his smiling face. “The girl I like doesn’t like me back.” He added before taking a sip of his own coffee.
           “Oh my god! The Min Yoongi has a crush!” I quietly exclaimed, a wide smile on my face as I wrapped a hand around his wrist, begging him to tell me about the girl he likes.
           “She’s beautiful.” He says, blush rising to his cheeks. “But I can tell she doesn’t believe she is. And she’s so smart, so kind. There really isn’t a better girl.” I thought dating Jin would help my one-sided crush on Yoongi, but as I sit across from him as he tells me about this girl he likes, I can feel my heart breaking, knowing it’ll never be me.
*
         I stood in the kitchen while the party raged on around me. Since dating Jin, Jimin and I have been invited to a lot more parties, parties I keep getting dragged to. I watched as Jimin drank and made new friends, enjoying himself, and I couldn’t be happier for him. I watched as Jin and his friends played some games, laughing and drinking the night away. They’ve always been the life of the party, and though I don’t like parties, I wasn’t going to stop my boyfriend from enjoying himself. So I stood in the kitchen, watching as everyone enjoys themselves, silently wishing I took Yoongi up on his offer to see a movie tonight.
           “Now don’t tell me this beautiful girl is here alone.” I looked up and met a stranger’s eyes as he smirked at me. “All alone, standing in my kitchen, must be fate.” He continued, draping an arm across my shoulders.
           “Actually I’m here with my boyfriend.” I smiled, turning towards where Jin last was, and seeing that him and his friends disappeared. My heart dropped to my stomach when I couldn’t see them anywhere.
           “No need to lie to me.” He teased, removing his arm from my shoulders, and instead wrapping it around my waist, pulling me closer to him as I tried to move away from him. “I’m sure I can show the Ice Queen a good time.”
           “What are you doing, Minho?” The familiar voice eases my nerves but seems to do the opposite to Minho. His arm immediately drops from my waist as his eyes widen, meeting Yoongi’s eyes filled with anger. If I didn’t know Yoongi the way I do, I’d be terrified. When Yoongi raised his brow, Minho left the kitchen without another word. “Sorry about him. I’m still training him.” He chuckled. “Where’s Jin?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked around for my boyfriend.
           “What are you doing here?” I asked, ignoring his question. “I didn’t know Mr. Min Yoongi partied.” I teased, a smile making its way to my lips.
           “I’m actually, unfortunately, apart of this frat. My dad actually started this frat with his friends, so I had no choice.” He explained, chuckling at my shocked face. “I really do apologize for Minho. I hope he didn’t make you too uncomfortable.”
           “It’s okay, Yoongs. Thank you for saving me though. I don’t know where any of the guys went.” I took a quick look around, trying to see if I could any of the 6 guys I came with. “If you see any of them, can you let them know I went home? Parties really aren’t my thing.” I chuckled.
           “I’ll take you home.” He said, setting the cup he was holding down on the counter. “Just text one of them to let them know you’re safe.” I nodded, closely following Yoongi as the two of us made our way through the dense crowd of people and out the front door. As we walked, I sent a quick text to both Jimin and Jin, letting them know Yoongi was walking me home.
           “You know, you didn’t have to walk me home.” I spoke up after some silence. “It is technically your party; shouldn’t you be there?”
           “Honestly, I try not to be home when there’s a party. It’s why I asked you to a movie tonight. Well that, and I like spending time with you.” My heart fluttered at his words. My head began spinning with theories as to what he meant. Would I be reading too far into it by thinking he has feelings for me too?
*
         Monday afternoon, Yoongi was sitting at our regular table in the library, two coffees in front of him as per usual. “How’d your test go?” I asked, placing a bottle of water in front of him before taking my seat. He looked up at me as I sat down, a smile on his face when he met my eyes. So different than how things used to be.
           “I won’t get the results until the end of the week, but I think I aced it!” He exclaimed. I remember the days we would study silently across from each other, not knowing anything about each other besides the rumours that circulated.
           “Of course! You have the best tutor.” I joked, a wide smile on my face as he just smiled back at me, chuckling slightly, and shaking his head. I used to know absolutely nothing about him, besides the small things I heard from others, and the things I picked up on while silently crushing on him.
           Now I know his smile. I know it so well I could probably draw it from memory. I know that his older brother would always cook for him. I know he’s not as close to his family as he wished he was. I know he struggles in his classes. I know he prefers iced coffee over hot coffee, and that he always forgets to drink water. He hates parties and spends most weekends at a diner, studying and trying to keep his grades up. I know he’s so far from being an Ice King. He’s so caring, so kind. And I know that I’m falling in love with him.
*
         “I think it’s time we call it.” I overheard as I walked into the café I meet Jimin at everyday. I looked over to the tables Jin and his friends push together so the 7 of us can sit together, and saw the 5 of them sitting together, serious looks on all their faces.
           “I love hanging out with her and Jimin.” Taehyung spoke, and I quickly sat at a nearby table, wanting to hear what they have to say. “You need to tell her about the bet.”
           “A bet?! Seriously Jackson?” He stumbled over his words, trying to come up with a good excuse, but there wasn’t one. “Glad I could help you win. Don’t contact me again.” I pushed passed him as he called after me, but there wasn’t anything else that needed to be said. 2 years. I wasted 2 years of my life thinking we were in love, but it was all a bet. It was never love.
           Jimin sat in front of me, snapping me out of my memories. He opened his mouth to say something, but I shushed him and pointed over to the guys.
           “She’s so awesome. I feel so bad.” Jungkook added to the conversation. “She doesn’t deserve to have her feelings played with like this.”
           “We can tell her everything and apologize. Hopefully, she’ll forgive us.” Jimin looked at me with confusion on his eyes as I struggled to breathe. It’s like high school all over again. When Jackson came into my life, stole my heart, and then destroyed me. Telling me he loved me, and planning our future, all the while laughing with his friends about how gullible I was. Jimin was the one to pull me out of my slump, but I put my walls up and I promised myself I’d never let them crumble. I’d never be so naïve again.
           “I doubt she’d even care.” Jin scoffed. “She’s the Ice Queen for a reason.” Yet here I was, repeating it all over again.
           “Just because she’s an Ice Queen doesn’t mean she doesn’t have feelings, hyung.” Hoseok spoke up, shaking his head. I’ll admit that the reason I started dating Jin wasn’t the best, but I found myself enjoying his company. Everything felt real, like he really cared about me. My feelings for Yoongi have always been stronger, but sometimes I felt myself falling for Jin’s charms. He’s not the school playboy for nothing. He really knows how to make a girl feel special. He knows how to knock down any wall someone has put up to protect themselves.
           “Whatever. You guys can tell her about the bet then. While you’re at it, you can tell her we’re over. I have things to do.” He stood up from the table, and that’s when they all noticed Jimin and I sitting at a nearby table. Jin’s eyes widened when he saw us.
           “You guys are all fucking disgusting.” Jimin exclaimed, standing up from the table. “You’re damn right she doesn’t deserve this. No one does! Y/N, let’s go.” His voice softened when he looked over at me, tears welling up in my eyes as I looked up at the man who bet on my heart. “They don’t deserve your tears, angel.” He whispered, wiping away my tears before grabbing my hand and dragging me out of the café.
           “Talk about déjà vu.” I chuckled as we walked towards my apartment.
           “Guys are the worst.” Jimin mumbled, shaking his head as the two of us walked hand in hand. I laced our fingers and walked closer beside him, swinging our arms causing him to chuckle at me.
           “You’ve always been the exception to that statement, Min.” I smiled up at my best friend. I wasn’t in love with Jin the way I was with Jackson, but it doesn’t hurt any less. The crush that was forming on the handsome man quickly faded as the reality set in. Once again I was a bet. And I just wished people would stop making bets on my feelings.
*
         “Don’t you usually leave by now?” Yoongi asked as the two of us studied together the next day. “The boyfriend is probably waiting for you.” He chuckled.
           “We actually broke up.” His smile quickly fell as he spit out an apology. “It’s fine. The relationship was all a bet anyway.” I shrugged, trying my best not to let my feelings show. Trying to seem as unbothered as possible. “People love trying to break the Ice Queen.” Little do they know, the reason for my smiles wasn’t Kim Seokjin, but Min Yoongi, the Ice King himself.
           “That’s so fucked. Guys are the worst.” He scoffed causing me to chuckle.
           “That’s exactly what Jimin said.” I smiled.
           “Talking about me?” Jimin joked, taking a seat beside me. “I hope you don’t mind if I intrude from now on.” The statement was directed towards Yoongi who shook his head. “Good, because if I see any of those guys, I will be throwing hands.”
           “Please, Jungkook could beat you with just his pinky.” I teased, shoving him lightly. Yoongi was watching us with a fondness in his eyes I haven’t seen before. And I couldn’t stop the pounding of my heart, no matter how hard I tried.
*
         Jimin continued meeting Yoongi and I at the library everyday after getting out of dance. At first I thought Yoongi would hate it as Jimin isn’t known for quietly studying like Yoongi and I are. But he quickly warmed up to my best friend, and 3 of us spent weekends going to movies and to the diner Yoongi loves to much. We avoided all the parties we were once invited to, and the café we were regulars at for so long, hoping never to cross paths with the guys we once considered friends.
           My feelings for Yoongi only continued to grow as spent nearly everyday together. Days quickly turned into weeks, and before I knew it, it had been a month since Jin and I broke up. With Jimin and Yoongi with me everyday, I barely had time to feel the hurt I felt when it happened with Jackson. “Y/N.” 1 month since I found out about the bet. 1 month since I’ve seen any of the guys. 1 month and now Jin is standing in front of me. I moved to push passed him and get to the library, but he wrapped his hand around my arm, effectively stopping me. “It’s been a month; can I please just say something?”
           “What more is there to say? I was a bet, and honestly speaking Kim Seokjin, you were a distraction.” His hand fell from my arm, dropping back to his side. “It was fun, though. But that doesn’t mean my feelings aren’t hurt. And you didn’t seem to give a fuck. Telling your boys to tell me and break up with me for you. So why now? Don’t tell me some cliché shit that you realized you had feelings for me and that you miss me, because we both know that’s bullshit.” He stayed silent. “Good talk, Kim Seokjin.” I pushed open the doors to the library and made my way to my regular table, Yoongi already there, two coffees in front of him. “I feel like getting drunk.” I said, plopping in my regular seat.
           “Rough day?” Yoongi chuckled, sliding my coffee across the table towards me.
           “Let’s just say Seokjin wanted to talk.” Yoongi closed his text book and smiled up at me.
           “Soju and ice cream?” He asked as he quickly packed up.
           “I’ll text Jimin to meet us at my apartment. Let’s get drunk!” I exclaimed, grabbing my coffee, and leaving the library with Yoongi by my side. We were both chuckling as he opened the door, allowing me to walk out first. I wasn’t paying attention as I walked out the door, turning my head to look at Yoongi, and bumped into someone. “Sorry … Namjoon?” He smiled down at me as I quickly took a step back. Yoongi looked up at him before wrapping an arm around me, pulling me closer to him.
           “You didn’t let Jin talk, so I figured I’d try.” He smiled, rubbing the back of his neck.
           “There’s nothing to talk about.” Yoongi spoke up. “You guys got caught; deal with the consequences of your actions.” The two of us tried to walk passed him, but unlike Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon was persistent.
           “You act like you don’t make mistakes.” He called after us, stopping us in our tracks. “Jin told me you said he was just a distraction.” I turned to face Namjoon causing Yoongi’s arm to fall back to his side.
           “When I agreed to the first date, I agreed hoping for a distraction from my one-sided crush. But when I agreed to the second date, it was because I liked his company. When I said yes to being his girlfriend, it was because I had real feelings for him. And that’s the difference between me and him, Kim Namjoon. Everything on my end was 100% real, where as on his end it was all fake. He pretended to have feelings for me.” Namjoon stared at me, obviously not expecting my blow up. “What else needs to be said, Namjoon?” I asked, my voice cracking. Yoongi slid his hand into mine, lacing our fingers together and giving my hand a reassuring squeeze.
           “We’re sorry. We never got to apologize, and we want to.” I shook my head.
           “I don’t want your apology. You don’t deserve my forgiveness.” He didn’t stop us as we walked away this time. “I really need a drink.” I whispered causing Yoongi to chuckle.
         “Consider it done, princess.”
*
         Jimin was angrily pacing around my living room after Yoongi and I told him what happened. “Hoseok approached me today, too. They waited an entire month to try to apologize. What a joke.” He took a swig of his drink. “I can’t believe they did exactly what Jackson and his friends did in high school! Like, we’re in fucking college now.”
           “Wait, this happened to you before?” Yoongi jumped in as Jimin continued to mumble to himself between taking swigs of his drink.
           “It’s not a big deal.” I shrugged, really not wanting to explain what happened in high school. But Jimin had other plans.
           “No big deal?! You switched schools! Wouldn’t eat unless I forced you to! Jackson is the whole reason you’re known as the Ice Queen in the first place.” Yoongi looked between the two of us. “You spent 2 years believing he was the great love of your life, just to find out it was all a bet and he never loved you. That’s a big deal!”
           “2 years?” Yoongi asked and all I could do was nod. “God, guys fucking suck.” He exclaimed, leaning back on the couch as he took another sip of his drink.
           “That’s what I’m saying!” Jimin added, plopping himself down on a chair.
           “You two are the only guys I need.” I smiled, cuddling up to Yoongi, who happily wrapped his arms around me and placed a kiss on top of my head.
           “I never should have told you to go on that date.” Jimin mumbled as he watched Yoongi and I.
           “You didn’t know it would end up like this.” I told him; my words muffled by Yoongi’s shirt as my head rested on his chest. The three of us continued to drink, trying to forget all the angst of the day and have a good night.
*
         “Hey! Now that Suck-Jin is gone, you can make your move!” Jimin exclaimed some hours later, all of us considerably more drunk than we expected to be.
           “Oh yeah! You were saying you had a crush on someone!” Yoongi jumped in, poking my arm with a teasing smile on his face. “You’re beautiful! You should just go for it.” I laughed, shaking my head. “Come on, Y/N!” Yoongi whined. “I want to see you happy.”
           “Yeah, Y/N! What was his name again?” I couldn’t help but laugh at how Jimin hasn’t changed. He still forgets everything when he’s drunk. “Yoongi!” He yelled, causing Yoongi to look over at him.
           “You don’t have to yell, I’m right here!” Yoongi yelled back. Jimin’s eyes widened.
           “Y/N! Now’s your chance! He’s right there.” He loudly whispered, cupping his hands around his mouth as if that would stop Yoongi from hearing him.
           “Shut up, Jimin!” I said as I threw a pillow towards him, missing by a lot due to the alcohol in my system. “He has a crush on some girl!” I exclaimed with a pout on my face.
           “Dammit Yoongi!” Jimin exclaimed. “How can you not like Y/N?!” He leaned forward in his chair, causing him to fall to the ground. I burst out laughing, completely forgetting the conversation that was happening seconds previous.
           “Idiot! You’re always falling off chairs.” I laughed, but Yoongi was silent, seeming to have quickly sobered up. “Yah!” I slapped Yoongi’s arm. “What’s with that face?” I pouted.
           “You like me?” My eyes widened as my jaw dropped.
           “Who told you?” I whispered. “You weren’t supposed to know!” Yoongi chuckled, shaking his head at me.
           “I think it’s bed time for you.” He stood up, holding a hand out for me to take so he could help me up. “Jimin,” he turned to saying something, but Jimin was passed out on the floor. “Okay then.” He chuckled before helping me to my room.
           “Stay.” I pouted as I patted the empty space beside me. He shook his head as he tucked me in and turned to leave. “Yoongs!” I whined. “I want cuddles.” He chuckled, standing in my doorway contemplating whether he should stay or leave. “Please.”
           “Always my weakness.” He mumbled to himself before crawling into bed with me and pulling me into his arms. I fell asleep quickly while listening to his heartbeat.
*
         I woke up still wrapped in Yoongi’s arms, and the events of the previous night hit me like a truck. “Fuck.” I whispered to myself, trying to wriggle out of his arms without waking him up.
           “You wanted cuddles; you live with the consequences.” He mumbled; his eyes still closed.
           “Yah, if you’re awake, let me go.” I whined, trying to pull his arms off of me, but his grip only tightened. “What are you doing?” I asked, eventually giving up on getting out of his arms. He mumbled something I couldn’t understand before pressing a soft kiss to the top of my head. “Wow, who would have known the Ice King was actually the biggest softie.” I joked.
           “Says miss Ice Queen pouting until I cuddled her.” I let out a small giggle, the memory coming back to me slowly. “You and Jimin are really funny when you’re drunk.” Before I could ask, he continued. “You accidentally confessed to me last night.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but I heard him loud and clear. “Before you panic,” He was moving so he could look at me, but his arms were still around me. “I like you too.” I couldn’t help the smile the overtook my face when he said that. “So if we can shake the third wheel, I’d like to take you out today.” I giggled, but promised I’d find a way for it to be just us. “Okay, then I’m going to go home and get ready. I’ll see you in a couple hours.” He pressed a soft kiss to my temple before getting out of my bed and leaving.
           My two previous relationships may have failed miserably, but I know things are different this time. Third times a charm, as they say.
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tokoyamisstuff · 3 years
Text
Tender Ch. 2 - Loki x Mute! Reader
Summary: Winning the favour of the God of Mischief is not an easy task - even if he has already fallen for you.
Warnings: None.
Words: ~1600
A/N: Since I am writing several Series at once, together with Oneshots in between, the chapters are gonna be a bit shorter so I keep no one waiting. Hope that is alright!
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[Story Masterlist] [All of my Works]
Taglist: @austynparksandpizza​ @queenariesofnarnia​​ @commonintrest​​ @buckylokisimp​ @just-someone-who-likes-to-write @lxdyred @frostay​​​​
The first weeks after your arrival at the Avengers Compound passed by rather uneventful.
Due to the fact that you neither had a family you could be attached to, nor many belongings ever since HYDRA had kidnapped you and destroyed your home, Tony insisted on you living at the tower - like many of the other members as well.
Everything was just so new and exciting, not even Loki’s gleeful mockery could bring you down from that high.
Little did you know that all of his pep talks about those ‘inferior heros’, the ‘illusion of power’ or how no one was ever truly good or evil had a completely different reason:
An attempt to get you to leave, for your own good. After everything that had happened to you, the god was worried how another fight would affect you.
Anyway, it was a luxurious life compared to your old one, with so many kind persons and new perspectives. And you were sure to return that favor once you’d learn to control your powers!
So until then, you would train as hard as possible and care for your new friends through little acts of service. Caring for others came quite natural to you, may it be listening to their problems or simply complimenting them to see their faces brighten up.
And for some reason, that particular character trait was the one thing Loki found the most annoying.
How could a person so naive and pure think they could actually join in battles against evil? You’ll only end up getting yourself killed - and to be honest, Loki thought this to be a waste.
And even though he’d never admit it, but jealousy was starting to get the better of him the more he observed you getting along with everyone.
They adored you - and they were very right in doing so!
But that would mean that you were just nice to everyone, not especially to him, right?
Every time you’d help Bucky through a panic attack, braided Thor’s hair or helped Banner in the laboratory, Loki only wished you’d be with him instead - and if he had to burn this whole place to the ground for this to happen.
Yet his pride kept him from voicing that desire.
For you on the other hand, it was frustratingly hard to get through to the God of Mischief. In comparison to how he treated the other Avengers, he was always reserved and courteous towards you, yet also unreachable distanced.
Only on a weekend where the other Avengers were on a mission, the two of you found a way to actually bond with each other, if only a little.
Loki had once again read every book he borrowed from Stark’s library, now having a reason to leave his room again. At least those subhumans won’t be there to drain on his nerves...
When he crossed the living room on his way to the elevator, he blinked heavily as he saw you plainly chilling on the sofa. He was just about to turn around and leave, when you hectically gestured for him to stay.
“Hey, Loki! 😊” you wrote on a notepad, holding it up for him to read.
“Greetings...” he spoke between gritted teeth, but your smile wouldn’t falter, so he stood rooted in the middle of the room.
“Do you want to watch a movie together?” How blunt could you be to ask a literal god directly, just like that?!
“Actually, I-” When your eyes met, Loki cut himself off, the words being caught in his throat. “Well, if you’re in dire need of my sublime company...”
You were quick to sit up straight, offering a bowl with popcorn to the Odinson which he curiously accepted. When he answered your question about what sweets they eat on Asgard, he wouldn’t understand why you’d laugh. Apparently ‘nuts and grapes’ are not considered treats on earth. Got it.
Yet that little huff you blew out of your nose instead of making an actual laughing sound came somewhat endearing to him, especially in contrast to your other noisy companions. “Adorable...”
Without even asking first, you’d wrap the other half of the blanket around Loki, effectively closing the gap between you two.
“Wha- I’m not cold!” he blurted out, visibly overchallenged by the sudden closeness. “I’m a Jotun, hel!”
What was he even so worked up about? Geeze...
“But the weather on Asgard is rather humid, right?” you wrote down, with him nodding approvingly. "It allows all kinds of flowers to blossom, other than this metal brick” he explained, your excited look not failing to keep him talking. “You should see it some time.”
Loki’s eyes were now locked on the screen, and you could basically grasp his homesicknes, very well aware that a failure and war criminal like him would never be tolerated in those holy grounds ever again.
Great...now you had achieved the exact opposite of what you wanted.
You tugged on his arm so he’d shift your attention to you again, quickly writing something with a barely there sulk on your face:
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make you sad.”
Tears were already forming on the rim of your eyes, making Loki’s insides churn. “So sensitive...gods. Keep yourself together, would you.”
The Odinson instinctively wrapped an arm around you, his free hand petting your head as he pulled it to his chest. He was awfully warm for a frost giant, and his heart was hammering against his chest in a fastened pace - maybe just your imagination, though.
“Well, it’s winter...” he uttered, acting as if he actually cared about the plot of the movie. “I may not freeze, but you seemed cold. That’s all.”
You let your hand run across his collarbone, making him look down to you once again. He bit his lip as his icy glare met your warm one, eyes shimmering with earnest affection while you formed silent words with your lips:
“T-h-a-n-k y-o-u.”
“N-no need to thank me.” Just now Loki wondered what kind of spell you were using on him, being reduced to a shaking and stuttering mess.
No curse, no beauty ever before had bewitched him so much that he would lose his cool, let anyone peek under his confident mask, after all.
Not so long ago, when he was still considered the handsome Prince of Asgard, he would bed a different lover on each night, though never settling for anyone.
And after the revelation of his true heritage, even those fleeting encounters to ease his loneliness would falter - all that’s left was certainty that the theory he had ever since his childhood had proven to be true: 
That everyone had always secretly despised him, the failure of the family and disgrace to all of Asgard. Only through his Jotun blood they had found a reason to not play along with the royal courtesy anymore, showing their resentment up in the open.
But you...you looked at him with completely different eyes than anyone ever did.
Maybe he had become softer, weaker over time - or simply more mature. His mother once told him to seize the moment when someone truly special would cross his way, and to never let them go.
“We could do this more often.” You shoved the notepad in his line of sight, and just now he noticed that two hours had sure passed in an incredible speed.
Just the two of you, cuddled up on the sofa, enjoying each other’s presence instead of dealing with the troublesome past.
“Well...” Loki clawed into your upper arm softly, no intention of letting you out of his grasp already. “I am sure your other companions are more fun to be around. As you most likely already noticed, I am known for ruining the mood.”
Loki had a habit of talking ill about himself, and letting himself down as well. Yet as he saw you eagerly scribble on the notepad, he knit his brows together, impatient to what you’d say next.
“But I want to see you.” The word ‘you’ was written in a thicker font, underlined several times.
“Why?”, that was the first and only thing crossing his mind. And yet there you sat, shoving the notepad into his face with a stern look on your face.
Loki was rooted on spot as you put the notepad on the table, instead laying your hands on his cheeks and softly tugging on the edge of his lips. “S-m-i-l-e!”
“E-enough!” he carefully pushed your hands away, afraid you’d detect the mild blush on his face. “Then it shall be. What did you have in mind?”
“Whatever you want.”
Loki finally arrived at the library to return his books, even though with a few hours delay. Realizing just how much he had enjoyed that spontaneous meeting with you, he began to panic.
Was it really a good idea to repeat this?
He was almost 100% certain that it would only end in him ruining your trust in anyone completely, if he’d ever allow you to come close to his core.
Due to him having saved you back then, you probably see him as something better than he actually was - and gods, how disappointed you’ll be once you’d find out what he really is like...
It was probably for the best if this would never happen, with him just keeping on to admire you from afar...
After a while of just staring into the void, mentally debating about your offer, he couldn’t help the fact that he was already looking forwards to meeting you again.
Uncertain how to approach the matter, Loki was at least eager to show you his goodwill.
For you have been the first person who - despite everything he had done - was willing to give him another chance.
"Greetings. I need every available book about sign language.”
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Text
after the credits
to thirteen years of cas and of the greatest love story ever told...an empty rescue fic for y’all :) 2.3k,  read on ao3 here
--------------
After a while, Castiel gets tired of watching. He’s practically dreaming all the time, but he’s so tired.
Eternal sleep is not restful.
He can’t leave the Empty, but he manages to mold it, with his mind, into a theater. He went to one once, with Dean, and there are probably nicer theaters, like those for plays and operas, but this movie theater is right for him. If he concentrates, he can almost smell burnt, buttery popcorn and spilled soda and old carpet, and Dean right next to him, aftershave and car oil and whiskey.
Almost.
The scenes unfold in a memorable order, because they’re Cas’s own memories. At first, he tried to jump in, alter the scene, but he’s powerless. So, like clockwork, he watches. He’s saving Dean in hell. He’s being stabbed in the chest by the same man he raised. He’s asking Dean to get answers from Alastair and then almost getting the grace pressed out of him. He’s slamming his palm onto a bloody sigil. He’s--
Everything, all of his twelve years on earth, pass by, over and over and over again.
Right now, it’s an early scene, not far into the cycle. It’s not one of his favorites, because he can see the expression on his face, remembers exactly how he felt. Remembers that he he was feeling at all.
“That was a pretty awkward kiss, huh?”
Cas turns sharply at the sound of Dean’s voice. Of course, Dean does talk in this scene, before he kisses Anna. But this Dean is sitting next to him, frowning at the screen.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” Cas says.
“I know.”
Chances are this is just the Empty trying to mess with him. Last week a random trashcan showed up in his theater. Or maybe it was last year, or a millenia ago, or five minutes from now. Time is weird.
They keep watching in silence. On the screen, in the memory, Cas’s head jerks away from the sight of Dean and Anna kissing. The scene flips then, to a park at night, Anna right in front of Cas, no Dean in sight.
“For the first time, I feel...” Memory-Cas says.
“It gets worse,” Anna warns.
“So your first feeling….” Dean starts.
“It was something.” Cas can’t look at him. The scene on-screen changes.
Dean, to his merit, doesn’t press.
The memories progress through the year they spent trying to stop the apocalypse, the year that ended with Sam diving into the pit and Dean going off to Lisa’s. Then through Cas starting to work with Crowley, a conversation that happened right behind Dean without his knowledge.
On-screen, Cas is watching Dean rake leaves. The expression on his face is nearly mournful. After a moment, Crowley steps into view.
“Ah, Castiel. Angel of Thursday. Just not your day, is it?” Crowley says.
“What are you doing here?” Memory-Cas asks.
“I want you to help me help ourselves.”
“Speak plain.”
Crowley smirks. “I want to discuss a simple business transaction. That’s all.”
“You want to make a deal? With me? I’m an Angel, you ass. ”
The scene flips again.
“Is there a way to pause this?” Dean asks.
Cas shakes his head. “It just does this, on a loop. I can’t sleep. The Empty won’t let me.” He puts a hand on the armrest between them. “I forced the theater up, to make it better.”
“It looks a lot like that theater we went to once.”
“I know.” Cas stares at Dean for a moment, looks away.
Many of these scenes are things Dean knows of. Cas works with Crowley, gets locked in a ring of fire, feels his chest seize up as Dean looks back for a moment. Watches the Leviathans lead him to a lake. They meet again on porch steps, Cas unable to remember who he is but still able to figure out that Dean is important. Cas gets his memories back, takes on Sam’s hell trauma. They go to Purgatory, Cas stays behind. It’s like clockwork.
Until.
“I don’t remember that,” Dean says slowly, watching himself die on the screen. “You never--you’ve never killed me.”
“Yes and no.” Cas knows what’s coming next--he’s going to kill Dean thousands of times. Each one is the same, with Cas in tears as these copies, mock-ups of Dean struggle, beg and plead, tell him not to. Each time, Naomi makes him do it again.
Until, finally, he doesn’t hesitate.
And she says he’s ready.
As they watch that scene in the crypt unfold, with the real Dean at Cas’s mercy, Dean leans forward, putting his elbows on his thighs and propping his chin in his hands. “You lied.”
“Hm?”
“You said you didn’t know what broke the connection.” Dean twists his head to look at Cas. “But you did.”
“I did,” Cas assents.
They watch Cas ride cross-country on a bus, pulling out his phone and almost calling Dean over and over again.
“Is there a way that we can see some of my memories?” Dean asks.
“You’re not supposed to be here.”.
Dean shrugs. “Well, I am here, and you figured out how to make a friggin movie theater, so I think I can do it.”
The image on the screen shudders, coalesces, breaks into a million pieces and then reforms. Dean is standing on the edge of a lake, picking up Cas’s coat, still covered in Leviathan goo. “You dumb son of a bitch,” Memory-Dean mutters, wrapping up the coat in his arms.
The scene flickers again--the coat in those same hands, moving from car to car to car, and then being passed to Cas. “I always knew you’d come back ,” Memory-Dean says. It’s a soft scene, almost, but then it flips to Dean seizing a monster’s collar in purgatory. He’s covered in blood and grime as he shoves the monster up against a tree, practically growling, “Where’s the angel?”
Even after the monster answers, Dean guts him.
It’s a cycle. The memory blurs through sleepless nights, through Dean stepping into streams to pray, prayers Cas knows well. It pushes past Cas letting go of Dean’s arm in the portal, and here’s something else new: Dean sees Cas on the side of the road, sees him outside the window while it pours down rain, sitting bolt upright at the phantom sight of Cas’s face.
“Why are you here?” Cas finally asks. This must really be Dean, after all. The Empty wouldn’t know these things, wouldn’t be able to dream them up. They’re too good, too honest.
“To bring you home.” Dean kicks the back of the seat in front of him, leans back in his own chair.
“I can’t go home.”
“You should.” The scene on screen rapidly changes--it’s Dean as he looks now, carrying a little boy on his back. The little boy is blonde, round-faced, holding onto Dean’s neck for dear life, laughing as Dean swings around.
“Is that--” No, it can’t be.
“Yep. He’s four, you know.” Dean clears his throat. “He misses you.”
“I wish I could have gotten to say good-bye.” Cas trails off.
“Come home. Then you never have to say it.”
Cas shakes his head. On the screen, Dean is reading to Jack, Jack following the words with a chubby finger. “It would be...awkward.”
“How?” Dean raises an eyebrow. “We’re family, dude. Jack misses you, Sam misses you, and Eileen’s been hanging around, and me…” Dean clamps his mouth shut.
That’s why.
“Things aren’t going to be the same. Not after…” Cas takes a deep breath. “What I said. We won’t be able to ignore it.”
“Then we won’t.”
“Dean--”
“You don’t know?” Dean’s eyebrows furrow. “You don’t know. Okay. I, uh…” The screen turns black.
“You what?” Cas is almost afraid to know.
“I didn’t want you to see this.”
The blackness unfurls into Billie’s library, Dean standing in front of her. They’re clearly in the middle of a conversation.
“What do you want me to say?” Memory-Dean asks. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t matter. ”
“Don’t you?” Billie replies.
“I couldn’t save Mom. I couldn’t save Cas. I can’t even save a scared little kid. Sam keeps trying to fix it, but I just keep dragging him down. So I’m not going to beg. Okay, if it’s my time, it’s my time.”
“Dean--” Cas starts, but Dean just looks at the floor, like he’s trying to avoid this.
“You really believe that,” Billie says. “You wanna die.”
“When was this?” Cas asks, speaking over the rest of Billie’s statement.
“It was...right before we, uh, got the call from you. That you were back.” Dean leans his head all the way up, looks at what would be the movie theater’s ceiling, if it wasn’t in the void. “I had a bad time. I…I would show it to you. But I don’t want you to see me like that. I held it together enough to wrap your body and burn it…”
“Hunter’s funeral.”
“Only kind I know how to do.” Dean swallows, audibly. “I’m doing what I can now. Having Jack to take care of, and Eileen around, too, helps. But it’s…” He finally looks at Cas again. “Please let me take you home. Please come home with me.”
Cas would do anything for Dean Winchester. He has done anything for him before. So he will grant him this, at least the illusion, because Cas knows he can’t leave the Empty. He’s trapped here for eternity.
He takes Dean’s hand.
-----------------------------------------
There is a little boy crawling on him.
“Daddy,” the boy says, poking his face, “I know you’re awake.”
“Jack,” Dean says, from somewhere up above, “Cas is still sleeping.”
Cas blinks rapidly. “‘M not.”
“Shouldn’t’ve said that.” Dean releases Jack, and Jack fully clambers onto Cas.
“I missed you,” Jack says.
“I missed you too.” Cas holds onto him, tight. He’s so small, like he’s supposed to be. A kid. Safe.
Cas thinks he might be in Dean’s bed.
The bunker, he discovers, looks much the same. He was gone for four months, in which time Dean and Sam took care of Chuck, Jack became a kid, and Eileen became a permanent fixture. When Dean and Sam aren’t looking, she signs to Cas, “He already looks better.”
“Who, Dean?” Cas signs back.
Eileen nods. “He had a pretty bad time.”
Dean turns around then, and Eileen presses a finger to her lips.
There’s not a quiet moment for the rest of the day. Sam explains what happened--”You might be human now,” he says, and Cas replies, “I’m not tired yet.”--and Jack wants Cas to read to him and play Barbies and racecars and puppets (apparently Dean built Jack’s little puppet theater, which--).
After dinner (spaghetti and meatballs, and Dean has a Coke instead of beer, Cas notices), everyone goes off to bed, and Cas realizes he is tired, which is something to think about.
He starts to head to the room he typically stays in, but Dean seizes the top of his arm. “Nope, you’re coming with me.” Dean drags Cas down the hall towards his room.
Cas hadn’t gotten a good luck at it earlier, what with Jack climbing all over him, but he sees it now. Dean’s bed unmade, scraps of random paper littered across the dresser, a picture Cas recognizes because he and Dean are wearing cowboy hats, and now he knows how Dean was really doing right before that case in Dodge City--
There’s also a dent in the wall. That’s new.
Dean follows Cas’s gaze. “I chucked a whiskey bottle at it. Sam took the rest of my stash the next day.” Dean steps over, brushing the drywall’s cracks with his fingers. “I didn’t fix it up so I wouldn’t forget.”
I couldn’t save Cas. I can’t even save a scared little kid. Sam keeps trying to fix it, but I just keep dragging him down. So I’m not going to beg. Okay, if it’s my time, it’s my time.
“Dean,” Cas says, “Tell me in words.”
“What?” Dean turns away from the wall. “Tell you what?”
“You know.”
Dean swallows, licks his lips. “I’d say don’t ever do that again on the whole dying thing, but I said that to you once and you didn’t listen. And maybe if I say it the right way now, you’ll stay, but…” Dean slumps, sits on the bed. “You can’t leave again.”
Cas touches the wall himself before sitting next to Dean on the bed. “I’m not going to.” He isn’t sure if he’s allowed to touch Dean.
Dean touches him instead, leaning into Cas, finding one of Cas’s hands, holding it tight. He’s crying, Cas realizes. “I love you,” Dean says into their joined hands, then his chest wracks with a sob. “I was always so sure that if--” another sob, “If I said it, you’d leave. Get taken away from me.”
“I’m not going to leave,” Cas repeats.
He isn’t sure how long they sit like that, but Dean finally straightens up, lets go of Cas’s hand, wipes his eyes with the back of his own. “Pajamas,” Dean says, standing and crossing to the dresser. “We gotta get you some of your own, but…” He digs a pair of sweats out of the drawer and tosses them to Cas. “These’ll do for tonight.”
Cas doesn’t ask if he can stay. Dean doesn’t ask him to leave.
With the lights out, it’s pitch black, almost as inky as the Empty, but Cas can hear Dean breathing, so close to him. The bed is almost too small for both of them, so they’re nearly chest-to-chest. Hardly ever have they been this close. Never did Cas dare to dream it.
In the dark, under the covers, the world outside of this room, Dean kisses him. It’s flat, soft, a brush of lips, the barest ghost, but it’s enough. More than enough.
Cas is home.
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imhereformr · 2 years
Text
It had been years since he’d had to sneak in somewhere. Riven’s position as captain in the Magix Elite Force granted him easy access to just about anywhere he needed or wanted so long as he could justify his reason for being there. But this, he had no valid reason. It would result in his suspension, if not complete dismissal, from the force. He didn’t think he’d get caught – you couldn’t teach an old dog new tricks, but that doesn’t mean they forgot old ones – but even if he did, he knew he had to take the risk.
Nabu had been the one to tell him. About the relationship; the engagement; and the – in Riven’s opinion – far too rushed wedding. He wanted her to be happy, even if it wasn’t with him. He did. He also knew he should just let her go, let her marry whatever the fuck his name was, but he couldn’t not try. She needed to know how he felt even if he was years too late.  
Musa had been the one to break it off. It had nearly broken him; he’d refused to leave his room in his and Timmy’s apartment for weeks afterwards. Ultimately, she’d been right, though. They were becoming different people – growing apart – and it was better to break up now than wait until their different paths became too much and they grew to resent each other.  
Musa had released her first album a year before they’d broken up. Her tour had been hard, with him having to stay in Magix for work and her being everywhere, but he’d thought they could survive it. Their relationship had already survived so much. Musa’s star, though, had only begun to shine. Over the years after the breakup, she only became more and more successful. Every bit of which she deserved, and every bit of which Riven had followed from afar.
She’d offered for them to stay friends once the wounds had healed but Riven had declined. All the news he got of her was from the guys or magazines. His therapist – he'd gone to see a therapist; Musa would have been so proud – agreed that it was best to cut her off entirely. Beyond the whole listening to her music thing, Riven thought he’d done pretty well at that. It had only taken him a year to stop looking her up borderline obsessively, he’d dated other people, he’d even had a serious relationship or two. His only problem was that none of the others were Musa. No matter how hard he tried, he always seemed to come back to her.
So here he was, the day of her wedding, climbing a tree on the side of the hotel she was getting married at, praying that he’d be able to find the room she was getting ready in before the ceremony started. And that she’d be willing to hear him out. 
Riven managed to find an open window that led into the end of a hallway. He made his way through the navy halls, stopping to listen for her voice behind every single oversized door. Nabu, after some bribery and threats, had told him that Musa and the girls would be getting ready on the fourth floor. He’d begged Riven to think through his actions and not do anything stupid, but Riven was also certain that Nabu was on board with whatever his plan was. From his description of Musa’s fiancé, he hadn’t sounded too fond of the guy.  
The sound of footsteps put Riven on high alert. He managed to duck into a broom closet just in time to see Stella turn the corner. Jackpot. The blonde swung her long, gently curled hair over her shoulder and punched in a code on the door pad opposite his hiding spot. From the door, he heard a sound he would recognise anywhere: Musa’s voice. Double jackpot. Now he just had to pray that the girls would leave Musa alone for at least a minute at some point before the ceremony started.  
He stood in that closet, watching her door for close to half an hour when his saving grace arrived in the form of an older woman with greying brown hair piled high on her head and a clipboard in her hand. She punched in the code to the door – which Riven paid much closer attention to this time – and exited three minutes later with the five bridesmaids in tow.  
And no bride. This was turning out to be much easier than he’d anticipated.
Riven seized his opportunity the minute the woman he assumed was the wedding planner and Musa’s friends were out of sight. The light on the lock turned green on the first try and he slunk into the room as quietly as possible. Musa was turned away from him, staring at herself in mirror. Lucky too because it wouldn’t have made for a very good winning-her-back moment for her to see his jaw drop and his mind go entirely blank.  
Musa wore a minimalistic, figure-flattering white dress with spaghetti straps, a deep V and a low back. She wore very little jewelry: a pair of diamond earrings, her engagement ring and her mother’s necklace – the one she never took off that he’d recovered in Black Mud Swamp the year they first met. Her long, dark hair was curled softly, like she was a movie star right out of the 1950s. He missed her hair; missed running his hands through it; missed the way he could bury his face in it when they hugged so that the smell of her shampoo could envelop him entirely; missed the way she would play with her pigtails when she was nervous; missed the way her hair would fall into his face when she leaned over to kiss him before they went to bed every night. More than anything, he missed her.  
“Riven?” He stumbled out of his memories and into present day at the sound of her voice. She’d turned to face him, the train of her dress bunching at her feet as she spun. It had been so long since he’d heard her say his name. He’d forgotten how nice it sounded. “What are you doing here?”
“You look beautiful” he whispered thoughtlessly. Musa lowered her eyes, her face flushing like it had whenever he’d looked at her in the early days of their relationship. She ran her hands along the sides of her wedding dress – the dress she should be wearing for him – smoothing out non-existent creases in the fabric. It made him smile to know he could still make her blush like that.  
“What are you doing here?” she asked again, bringing her hands together to fiddle with her engagement ring.  
“I...” Fuck. How did he do this?  “...Should have written something down.” Yes, that would’ve been a good idea. He wasn’t Helia; words didn’t come naturally to him. The old Riven would have turned around and walked away, wouldn’t have even given it a shot. He wasn’t the old Riven anymore, and he wasn’t leaving this room without Musa knowing how he felt. He’d have to wing it. “Don’t marry him.”
“Riven, I-”
“Please. Just hear me out.” Her objections ceased, and she lowered the hand she’d put out in a stop motion. “I love you. I have never stopped loving you. I have thought about you every single day for the last seven years, four months and twenty-one days. Since the day you left. And every single one of those days, I have kicked myself for letting you go; for not fighting harder for you. For us.”
Riven approached her. With every step, he felt his heart beat harder, coming to a brutal halt when he stepped in front of her. Her eyes, for the first time since he’d complimented her, met his. She was inches from him; so close that the smallest movement would bring them together. The heels she was wearing made her taller – brought the top of her head to his lip instead of his shoulder. Had his mind been anywhere other than desperately wanting her to come back to him, he would have commented that she hated heels with a passion, and he’d always thought she’d wear sneakers with her wedding dress even if Stella gave her a headache about it.  
He caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers, not missing the way she leaned into his touch. Her heart longed for his just as much as his did for hers. “You belong with me, Muse. You know you do. We belong together.” His hand cupped her chin, pulling her into a kiss. Never had anything felt more right than his lips on hers. The second they connected; he knew everything would work out. He could beat the worst monsters, defeat his darkest demons, save the most helpless and conquer the universe as long as he had Musa by his side.  
Musa’s hands came to rest on his chest, balling her manicured fingers into his thin white t-shirt and dragging him into her as they lost themselves in the kiss. The longer it went, the more certain he was that she would leave with him right then if he asked her to. He would have too, if the planner hadn’t punched in the door code and announced her presence through the heavy door.
“Gimme a second” Musa managed to shout, mere inches from Riven’s face, before the woman had entered the room. The planner shut the door, informing Musa that she would be right outside and that the ceremony was ready to begin.  
Musa stepped back and Riven had to wrap his arms around her to keep her near him. “I have to go” she whispered.  
“Please, please don’t marry him.” Teenage Riven would be mortified to hear his voice crack as he begged Musa not to choose someone else, but adult Riven couldn’t care less. He would beg and plead and grovel if it meant that she’d stay with him.  
“It’s too late. I’m sorry.” She laid her hands on his chest and pushed their bodies apart. He watched, heart shattering, as she stepped away from him. Her voice broke, tears pooled in the corners of her eyes and her lower lip quivered, but ever his fierce Musa, she stayed strong. He wished, just this once, that she would break. Musa stepped away from him and turned towards the door, gathering the train of her dress in her hand as she walked away. She wiped her eyes quickly before grabbing the door handle.  
“Musa,” he heard himself say before she had the chance to turn the knob. A deep sigh and she turned to him. He’d never been good at reading people, but Musa he knew. She wanted him to fight for her, she always had, and, for the most part, he always had. He always would. He’d just fucked up that one time when it mattered most. “I’ll be out front. If you change your mind.”
She didn’t answer, merely shook her head and then she was gone, whisked away through the door and down the hall by the planner. Riven sat himself onto the nearest piece of furniture – a fancy-looking emerald green couch in the corner of the hotel suite sitting room – and dropped his head in the palms of his hands trying to stop himself from crying and shaking.  
He hadn’t felt pain like this in years, hadn’t felt anything like this in years. He hadn’t been numb – he’d known numb before and that wasn’t what the last few years had been – but life had been significantly less vivid. Everything always felt so much more with her. The lows could be soul-crushing agony, but the highs were pure ecstasy and worth every second of pain. He would willingly suffer through millennia of agony for just one hour of ecstasy with her again.  
***
Musa’s mind buzzed as she followed Christina, the planner, through the hall and into the elevator, down to the main floor. The woman – an absolute godsend in the madness that was planning a wedding and a tour in the same four months – babbled on about how adorably nervous Liam – her fiancé – was.  
She’d met Liam three years ago on a talk show. He was an actor �� had started off as a child on a sitcom and managed to make the incredibly difficult transition from child star to serious adult actor. He’d been sweet and charming during the pre-interview and through the whole taping. They’d run into each other again a year later at a movie premiere – she'd sung the main theme and he was close friends with the star. He’d asked her out at the end of the night. He was cute – tall with broad shoulders and sharp features, just her type – so she’d said yes. It turned out that he was also funny and incredibly witty.  
She loved him.  
Christina led her out of the elevator and into one of the back hallways. At the end of the hall, Musa knew she’d find her friends and father waiting patiently for the ceremony to start. Musa knew what would happen: Christina would put them in order, then cue her assistant to tell the violinist to start playing – Riven had always loved hearing her play the violin, they’d talked about having one if ever they got married. Musa couldn’t let that detail go. Once the music started, the double doors would open onto the ceremony room. Hundreds of guests would be seated in the room, surrounded by thousands of dollars' worth of flowers and floating candles.  
Much sooner than she’d anticipated, it was Tecna’s turn. The purple-haired fairy – her maid of honour – turned out of the waiting area and moved up to the double doors at exactly the speed Christina had indicated; not too fast like Flora had or too slow like Stella – who, realistically, had been enjoying the moment of spotlight – had. Musa’s father turned to her, a genuine smile on his face, to ask if she was ready. Musa smiled and nodded.  
Her arm looped through her father’s and Christina handed her the bouquet of exquisite flowers – arranged by Flora, of course. The woman moved behind her to spread out her train. As she neared the door, the guests stood for her. Her father nodded to a few at the back that he recognised, but Musa’s focus was at the front.  
Liam stood with his arms folded behind him. Riven would always stand with his hands in his pockets or his arms crossed. Liam’s smile widened when he saw her. Riven only smiled when he saw her. Liam mouthed the words I love you and Musa felt a pang. She’d just heard those words in a different voice, and they’d had so much more impact. Musa smiled at him, repeating the mantra in her head.
She loved him.
She loved him.
She loved him.
She was at the altar. Her father was hugging her and whispering that he loved her and wished her nothing but happiness. Musa was stepping up to the altar. Liam was shaking her father’s hand. The photographer’s assistant was adjusting her train for the photos. Liam was smiling at her. Tecna was taking the bouquet out of her hands. Liam was reaching out for her hands.  
Musa snapped out of her haze. Her hands were in Liam’s and the officiant was welcoming the guests. Please turn your phones off. Don’t take any pictures. It’s not every day you meet someone that touches your soul. All the cheesy shit people said at weddings. Musa ignored the man they’d hired as she played the scene with Riven over in her mind.
He still loves her.  
And she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t compared every boyfriend to him. Including Liam. She’d also be lying if she said that she didn’t think about him when she was alone. When she was lonely. When she wanted someone to hold her. When she touched herself. When she cried. When she laughed. When she had news to share. When she wrote a song she really loved.  
It was always him.  
Pressure on her hand brought her back to present day. Liam was saying his I do. He was giving her that smile that, up until fifteen minutes ago, she thought she’d be happy enough to see every day.  
Happy enough.
Was that really enough?  
“...Take Liam Lukas Caffrey, here present, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, until death do you part?”
“I...” Hundreds of eyes stared at her expectantly. She had two words to say. I do. It wasn’t that fucking hard. Musa looked up at Liam. At those pretty dark green eyes of his watching her with all the love in the world. “I...”
It wasn’t enough.
No one would ever be enough if they weren’t Riven. She’d tried to deny it, but it was true. And he was right. She belonged with him.  
“No” she sighed. The love in Liam’s eyes turned to confusion. Behind her, Stella mumbled out a what. “I can’t... I’m sorry.”
Musa picked up the skirt of her dress as much as she could and walked away. She picked up speed with every step, desperate to get away from the prying eyes. Desperate to get to Riven. I’ll be out front. If you change your mind. Had he meant it? She rushed through the double doors, past Christina and through the lobby. In the corner of her vision, she saw the doorman standing to open the front doors for her, but she got there before him.  
Lights flashed in her eyes as she pushed through the doors and onto the front steps. Her name was being shouted and paparazzi cameras popped at every angle, but she registered none of it. Musa searched the sidewalk for that telltale flash of magenta, trying to control her already heavy breathing and not appear as panicked as she felt.  
He wasn’t sure why he’d even waited. It’s too late. That should be an obvious clue that she didn’t want to be with him. Still, he waited. He’d sat in her suite for two minutes trying to compose himself before sneaking out of the room and down to the lobby. He’d gotten there just in time to hear the music start. Part of him contemplated waiting, running into the ceremony when the officiant did the speak now or forever hold your peace thing (did they even do that in real life? It hadn’t been done at Flora and Helia or Stella and Brandon’s wedding). Ultimately, he decided not to. He’d told Musa what he had to say. All he could do now was wait.
Riven took a seat on a bench in the park across the street. He absentmindedly watched park-goers walk by, blissfully unaware that he was falling to pieces as the seconds ticked by. It took all his self-control not to think about Musa marrying someone else; to stop himself from physically and mentally falling apart. Old demons tried to claw their way to the forefront of his mind, to tell him that she wouldn’t want him, that his efforts were futile, but Riven refused to listen to them. He wasn’t that sixteen-year-old kid anymore, and he knew, he knew that he and Musa were meant to be.  
Finally, after searching for what felt like an eternity, she spotted the telltale magenta hair forcing its way through the crowd. The joy that swelled in her was unlike any happiness she’d ever felt. He’d waited. Musa kicked off her heels and took off running towards him. He made it to the front of the crowd just in time for her to throw herself into his arms and pull him into a kiss.  
It was heaven to feel his lips on hers, to feel his arms wrapped around her. Musa never wanted to lose this feeling. He laughed into the kiss and Musa swore it was the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard. Riven shuffled forward, lowering her onto one of the hotel steps as they finally pulled apart. The smile on his face could put the suns of Solaria to shame, but, as much as she loved his smile, Musa was only focused on his eyes. She loved his eyes; loved the way they shone every time he looked at her.  
Riven rested his forehead against Musa’s. Those magnificent blue eyes looked up at him so lovingly, just the way he’d longed for her to look at him for all those years. Riven swore then and there, he would move mountains to never lose that look. He was so happy he didn’t even care that all the paparazzi were watching them. Let them watch.  
“I’m so sorry. I was so stupid... I-” Musa started.  
“It doesn’t matter. You’re here now.”
“Now and forever. I love you, Riven.” Musa pulled him into another kiss. Camera flashes went off around them but Riven only saw the stars that shone in his head every time she kissed him. He pulled away from her just enough to whisper I love you too, Musa before kissing her with all the love he could muster.  
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owletstarlet · 3 years
Text
the grand deeds of great men, the smallest of gestures
"My hero."
An (extremely late) request of sorts from @taizi for some solid nishi content, involving Tanuma putting those childhood karate lessons to good use. Established tanunatsu.
Ao3 link in the notes. 
“Your boyfriend,” Satoru announces without preamble, dragging Tanuma by their joined hands through the hotel room door, “is a badass.”
Natsume looks up sharply from where he and Atsushi are huddled over a pile of rumpled travel pamphlets on the bed. But it’s Taki who’s on her feet first, closing the distance to the door with a pinched look and taking the shopping bag out of Tanuma’s hand.
Satoru’s grinning. Tanuma is very much not.
But they’re both shaking.
Satoru doesn’t let go of Tanuma’s hand until Natsume’s there to take it. Atsushi’s there to grab Satoru by the shoulders, and the five of them shuffle back as one towards the beds.
Natsume doesn’t press for the explanation until they’re all seated, he and Taki pressed up against either side of Tanuma, their knees bumping up against Atsushi’s and Satoru’s in the narrow space between the two beds. The muttered question is probably more directed at Satoru than at Tanuma, because Tanuma’s gray-faced in the lamplight, gaze a little too wide, breaths coming a little too fast. Both Natsume’s hands are wrapped around Tanuma’s slack one, and on his other side Taki’s hands are gentle where they rub his back, but her keen eyes keep darting over to Satoru, expression tight with all the same concern. Satoru, for his part, is practically vibrating where he sits tucked against Atsushi’s side, from nerves or exhilaration or both, Atsushi can’t quite tell.
“He flipped a guy!” Satoru declares, with a wide one-handed swoop of a gesture at Tanuma, sounding positively giddy about it.
Well. Whatever Atsushi was expecting to hear, it wasn’t that.
“What,” Natsume says, blankly, at the same time that Taki says, “…wait.”
And then they’re all looking at Tanuma. Who very much looks like he’d rather not be looked at.
“It was the actual best thing I have ever seen,” Satoru says, nudging Tanuma’s knee with his own, and there’s something fierce and warm in his eyes. “And he thinks he’s gonna go to jail or something for it, which he’s not, because the guy deserved it, so that would be dumb.”
“What happened?” Atsushi blurts, now well and truly alarmed.
And he tells them.
They’re in Osaka for a long weekend, because Natori had invited them all along for some premiere of a new period piece that Satoru had been gushing about for months. Natsume’s not exactly ecstatic about attending the event itself, but he’s clearly happy that Satoru’s happy—Atsushi gathers that that’s whole point of this—and even if Natori himself is all booked up with press events for the majority of the weekend, it’s a chance for them all to explore the unfamiliar city together.
Not thirty minutes ago, Satoru and Tanuma had volunteered to make a combini run for snacks, only about two blocks from the hotel. But once they’d finished and were through the door, bags in hand, Tanuma had realized he’d forgotten to get the ice cream Taki had asked for. He’d gone back in to get it, while Satoru stayed out front to sip at the cocoa he’d bought. They hadn’t really paid any mind to the group milling about out front. Salarymen, by the looks of them, three or four younger guys in tidy suits with raucous voices and beers in hand. Satoru had been making his way to the bench near the entrance to wait, not quite looking where he was going, and he’d bumped into one of them, causing some of his beer to slosh over the lip of the can and onto the guy’s blazer sleeve. From his place in line Tanuma had heard it, the sharp “Oy!” and the rumbles of displeasure from man’s friends. Tanuma’s not sure what became of the ice cream he’d been holding—maybe he dropped it, maybe he shoved it into the hands of the customer beside him—but the next thing he knew he was out the door, wedging himself firmly between Satoru and the man who now had him by the arm.
“And then he just…bam!” Satoru mimes the motion, as though he’s grabbing something heavy with both hands from behind, and twisting it downwards in front of him. “Like. Grabbed him. And just. Flipped him! Guy went down beer and all, and he looked super confused about being on the ground all of a sudden. And it was amazing, and I had no idea he took karate before.”
And with that, three sets of startled eyes all land squarely on Tanuma. Natsume taps his knee, like he’s trying to break him away from whatever’s got its grip on him behind his own glassy gaze.
“Karate?” Taki looks, at first, gobsmacked by this piece of information. But it morphs into something like slow-breaking delight across her features.
Tanuma’s nod is a single, tight bob of the head. “Just, um.” It’s the first time he’s spoken since walking through the door, and his voice is a ghost of a thing, like it might get swallowed up by the stale air of the room. “Until I was twelve. On and off. I don’t remember much.”
“You remembered plenty,” Satoru tells him, tone banking no argument, before clasping his hands together dramatically. “My hero.” His grin is so wide and irresistibly cheesy that Tanuma looks up, just for a moment, with the barest twitch of his lips before his gaze drops back down towards the stretch of flowery pink carpet beneath their toes. Natsume shoots Satoru a grateful look, even as Atsushi finds himself doing the same to Tanuma. Somewhere, during the course of the story, he’d found himself squashed up impossibly close against Satoru, arm tucked firmly around his shoulders. He seems genuinely excited, not distressed, but against Atsushi’s side he still feels wound up tight as a coiled spring. It’s definitely not lost on Natsume, either, judging by the glance he gives Atsushi. Atsushi nudges Natsume’s foot—he’s okay, I got him—and Natsume nods, once, though his gaze lingers a moment longer on Satoru’s flushed, still-beaming face.
“So you’re afraid someone saw?” Atsushi asks, while Taki fishes out a tea bottle from the shopping bag, uncaps it and presses it into Tanuma’s hand.
Tanuma doesn’t answer, but that touch of a grin from before has twisted itself into something distinctly nauseated.
“If anyone did see, they’d know the dude was fine.” Satoru shrugs. “Also that he deserved it, remember. We ran, anyways.”
Natsume blinks. “You ran here?”
And Atsushi can’t help but see the comedy in that being what Natsume seizes on, considering the truly impressive amount of times Atsushi’s seen him tearing through town apropos of nothing like he’s got a swarm of invisible hornets on his tail.
“Yup,” Satoru says, brightly, tapping Tanuma’s knee. “Felt like an action movie.” A pause, before he tacks on, not unkindly, “Y’know, if you’re not gonna drink that tea, then I will.”
Tanuma blinks down at the tea bottle, which had tilted enough in his hand to nearly spill onto the scratchy comforter as though forgotten about. He manages a couple measured sips before letting Taki take it back and cap it.
Natsume squeezes Tanuma’s fingers in his own, looking unsettled. Taki looks thoughtful, idly tapping the bottle in her hands.
“Were you thinking they had a security camera out front or something?” she asks.
Tanuma says nothing.
Taki leans into his side. “You know, even if anyone watched the footage, it’s like Nishimura said. All they’d see is that man getting exactly what was coming to him,” she says, fervently.
“And you being cool as hell,” Satoru adds. “Seriously, they teach twelve-year-olds how to do that?”
The way his shoulders loosen, just a fraction, feels like a win. “I don’t…actually know?” he starts, squinting like he’s trying to recall. “I was in this class for high-schoolers at the time, because there were nothing else available in the town I lived in.” A shrug, a sheepish glance up and away. “Usually I was just partnered up with my teacher.”
“That actually sounds kind of brutal, though,” Atsushi says, curious now. “Did the teacher demonstrate take-downs and stuff on you?”
“She did, but. Really slowly,” Tanuma replies, and it’s as though the warmth of Natsume’s and Taki’s shoulders pressed up against his has started, though incrementally, to seep into his voice, his eyes. “And I never really got the hang of doing any of it back to her. I’m surprised that worked, earlier.”
Precisely none of this explanation seems to have made Satoru look any less starstruck. Atsushi has to hold back his snort. “You should totally pick it up again,” Satoru’s saying now, around a mouth full of the lemon ice pop Natsume had fished out of the shopping bag for him. “What color belt did you get up to?”
“Um.”
Just that half-second’s hesitation is long enough to put a loaded look into Natsume’s eyes, for him to slot their fingers together properly and squeeze.
Tanuma lets out a breath, and there’s something years-old and lonely clinging to the edges of his smile. Atsushi doubts he’s aware of it. “None.” He shrugs. “I didn’t pass the one exam I took. I got pneumonia that year and had to quit after that, so.”
He looks faintly embarrassed, now, and Satoru opens his mouth as though ready to nip that right in the bud, but Taki beats him to it.
“Tanuma,” she says, solemnly, turning around to face him. “You have got to teach me how you did that.”
***
By the time the polite-yet-firm call arrives from the front desk, indicating a noise complaint from their neighbors in the next room and forcing them all to call it a night, things are better.
By then, Tanuma had been goaded into demonstrating some unwieldy modified version the maneuver behind his earlier takedown, executed on a poor unsuspecting hotel pillow because the entire room had immediately nixed Satoru’s offer to be the human test dummy.
Now, Satoru and Taki are a boneless, lightly snoring tangle of limbs on the far bed, one of Satoru’s arms thrown over Natsume’s whale shark plushie. (A surprise gift from all of them, Taki’s idea, after they’d caught him eyeing it more than once in the aquarium gift shop yesterday. If he’d walked out of the aquarium clutching it to his chest just like he might’ve done with his fat cat, currently hundreds of kilometers away, none of them said a word about it.)
Natsume himself is dozing in the other bed, but he lies facing Satoru—and Satoru’s fine, he’s unharmed and happy and completely safe, he is. But for some reason the longer the night’s worn on, Atsushi’s had to remind himself of these facts more, not less. He knows the dark cast to Satoru’s slack wrist is the lamplight-shadow of his sweatshirt sleeve, knows because he checked.
Still.
Tanuma’s in the bath, now. And he seems, well. Better than he was, certainly. But Atsushi had seen the taut-lipped glances he’d stolen at Satoru, and he looks about the same way Atsushi feels. At least the unwelcome scenarios and possibilities unspooling in his own mind have got to be more vague than whatever Tanuma’s imagination was serving up. Tanuma had seen it. Had stopped it.
Let Satoru wave it off, insist ‘til he’s blue in the face that it was fine, all fine, that he hadn’t been in any real danger. If it would put his friends at ease, he’d have said the same with a smile on his face even if he’d just been robbed at knifepoint.
Atsushi really needs to stop thinking about this.
He’d heard Natsume earlier, voice whisper-gentle through the bathroom door after he’d led Tanuma in by the hand behind him. Satoru and Taki had drifted off by then. Atsushi couldn’t make out the words, and heard nothing at all from Tanuma, aside from a few isolated, stuttering breaths. Tanuma had re-emerged dazed, red-eyed, but calmer than Atsushi had seen him all evening.
When the door opens now, Tanuma steps out in a halo of steam, wet-haired and barefoot in an old t-shirt. Atsushi’s on his feet and halfway across the room before he’s even really aware of it, the change of clothes for his own bath forgotten at the foot of the bed.
Tanuma goes still, when Atsushi pulls him close. Atsushi almost lets go, but then he feels the tentative hands come up to rest on his back.
“Thank you,” Atsushi mutters into his shoulder.
“I—“
“No. Listen.” Atsushi pulls back, hands shifting to rest on his upper arms. And god but Tanuma looks exhausted. “You kept him safe,” Atsushi says. “And don’t try to tell me you didn’t, because you did. Thank you.”
Tanuma opens his mouth, closes it again, swallows. He says nothing for a long moment, but he doesn’t look away. Finally, “…sorry for freaking out.” He smiles as he says it, but his voice snags on the words. He swallows again.
“Hey.” Atsushi waits until Tanuma’s now-dropped gaze returns to him. “You don’t ever have to be sorry for that, okay? Not with us.”
A sound like an inhale, somehow sharp and shaky all at once, and then it’s Tanuma that’s pulling them together again. A steadying breath, in-out-in that ruffles Atsushi’s hair. Stillness.
“Okay,” he whispers.
***
If he does go to jail, it's Natori who'll have to bail him out :)
Sensei didn't come along because I like to think Hiiragi, Sasago and Urihime have been taking turns watching over Natsume, which is more than sufficient, except for when it's *not* Natsume himself who's getting into trouble--
Fun fact, according to the most current iteration of canon, Tanuma's taken judo in the past as well as karate, but the bulk of this was written before that chapter came out.
All credit to taizi for the nice hug idea--
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mrwinterr · 3 years
Text
All For You
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Pairing: David Budd x Female Reader
Summary: After the incident on the train that night, David returns to the apartment replaying different scenarios in his head had things gone wrong; specifically, one with you involved.
Warnings: Smut 18+ (consensual and unprotected sex, snuggle-fuck, vaginal penetration and fingering, breath play, some roughness and dirty talk). Infidelity. Language. Sad vibes.
Disclaimer: Bodyguard (2018) TV series spoilers. This may effectively spoil episode one if you haven’t watched the show. This is set towards the beginning of the episode, but before the rest of the series plays out.  
Title Inspiration: “All For You” by Night Riots
A/N: 1) The song mentioned above is beautiful. Please give it a listen. It sets the mood for this piece. 2) Here’s to our fragile babe.
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It was late when David made it back to the apartment. The room was dark, all the lights were shut off, but there’s a considerable amount that shone out from the window of the city, illuminating his path around, and there was a faint smell of food that filled his nostrils from the half empty box of cold pizza laid out on the coffee table in front of the television.
The small details sent a warm feeling throughout his body. Countless memories scrolled in his head as he looked over at the empty couch, thinking back to all the times he’d watch you eat food there while your favorite show that season was on, him joining you to cheer on your hometown sports team, the both of you falling asleep during a movie. He swore y’all dined more at that coffee table than the table in the kitchen.
He lifted the lid of the box and thought if he was really hungry or not. It had his favorite toppings on it, but no matter how appealing the dish was, tonight’s events were too fresh and powerful to brush aside.
He had successfully foiled a terrorist attack on the train taking him and his kids back home. David had been through a lot during his term in Afghanistan, but he’d never been more scared in his life than when he thought about all the things he’d be robbed of had Nadia pushed the button on the trigger of the bomb strapped around her.
Ella and Charlie always came first in his life. His children meant the entire world to him. As much as David loved the time he had with them even if it was the dreading moments of having to send them back to their mother, he cherished every single second. The weekend the three of them spent at his mother’s was what he needed to help him clear his head. It’s insane to think just how quickly life can turn around.
After properly storing the food into the refrigerator, he shrugs his jacket off and sets his footwear against the wall and out of the way before heading towards his room except he never goes inside. He looks over to the room across and he can see you tucked and in bed from the slit of your opened door.
So many thoughts run through David’s mind, he feels like he could explode at any minute. The world was a mess enough as it is. The war didn’t do or leave him any favors. His unpredictable moods left him and his wife Vicky estranged. He couldn’t be there all the time for Ella and Charlie as they had to bounce back and forth between each parent. The only light in all of this was knocked out in the next room.
Aside from his comrades, not a lot of people stuck around long enough to tolerate the new version of himself that returned from the war. The relationship between David and you was something that never reached its potential. It was one of those never in the right moment sort of things. You met during your days at University. You had loved another before him and when studying abroad proved a long-distance relationship wasn’t possible, by the time you came back to graduate David was in love with someone else.
Soon enough, he was married with two children. You held no distaste for Vicky at all. You felt for her when she divulged to you about David’s episodes. The pair of you still communicated and you often found yourself watching over Ella and Charlie while she or David were busy with work.
When David’s PTSD started to get really serious and he profusely refused to get help, Vicky no longer felt safe with him in the house, she had no choice but to kick him out. You knew she was only doing it for the sake of Ella and Charlie, but secretly you already knew she was moving on.
You welcomed David into your apartment and let him stay for as long as he needed granted you had a spare room he could occupy. There was no sense in denying you always loved him and would support whatever his heart desired whether that meant helping him repair his relationship with Vicky or not.
It doesn’t go without saying that there have been casual slip-ups. You had both kissed before, felt one another, and even satisfied the other, but all that still didn’t define the relationship. He was still legally married to Vicky. The topic of their relationship was almost forbidden. You knew David held a high amount of respect for you and you couldn’t blame him for not knowing where his heart stood.
It hurt to see how much torment he got left with from trying to defend his country and you’d experienced first-hand those very episodes Vicky talked about and more. Time after time, there’d be arguments enough to deduce you to tears from his booming voice and ill words when the proposition of him seeking professional help arose. Then other times he’d break down right in front of you.
Grateful he hadn’t exhibited any violent behavior yet, as much care as you could offer to him, you knew that you still had to watch out for yourself too. Again, you’d always love David, whatever version of him. The same one you fell in love with was still in there. Your heart had ached for David’s well-being. If you could heal him with just your touch, you’d do it. Everything you did was all for David.
The room that offered him a preview of you compelled him enough to slip through the crack. It wasn’t uncommon for either of you to slide into the other's bed at this point. He removes his shirt and jeans, setting them on a nearby chair, and gently sits down at the end of your bed.
Given the events of the past 24 hours, the last thing he wanted was to be alone. If things had gone wrong, you would be alone.
The only sounds that could be heard were of the bustling city outside and if he paid close enough attention, which he did, your soft sighs of slumber were also audible. He leaned his elbows on top of his knees and stared straight into his reflection in the mirror of your vanity that was set in front of him.
David couldn’t help but think of all the possible outcomes that might’ve happened had he not been able to stop the attack.
First, he thought about Ella and Charlie and their safety foremost. At only ten and eight years old, they had so much to live for. If they were taken with him and the other passengers, he hated to imagine how Vicky would feel.
Vicky was another thought and how broken beyond repair they were at. He had felt so stupid thinking he could try and make a move on her hours ago. She was already adjusting to her new life without him. He also felt guilty and ashamed because he felt as if by that advance he was betraying you.  
You were a thought in of itself. The second his life was in danger and he came face-to-face with the suicide bomber, he knew he was going to leave this world without ever setting things straight between you two. All the things he shared with Vicky, their wedding, their honeymoon, the birth of their children - all of those life moments he once dreamed of sharing with you, without him, you’d end up sharing with someone else.
There’s nothing stopping you from doing that right now with him alive actually. He could lose you regardless of the outcome on the train, but when life flashes in front of your eyes and the main source of your survival and happiness are at the forefront of your attention, you want nothing more than to seize opportunities at the second chance you’re given. It was a wakeup call.  
David diverts his eyes from himself and over to your sleeping figure. He studied the peaceful aura you radiated, with the rise and fall of your body and soft breathing, you were quiet in a world so full of noise. While he held so much admiration for you, he also envied you. You had your life under control, at least enough to let you rest at night. However, David couldn’t hold that against you because you tried tirelessly to help him.
By some miracle, he was able to coax Nadia into trusting him and surrender. He lived to see another day and perhaps this was the world telling him this was his chance with you. Aside from his doomed relationship with Vicky, there was really nothing in the way of you two being together this time. He survived a war and tonight...and you were right there. Could he really live a life without him proclaiming his love for you? And that was it for David. He’d had enough.
He moves over to the space behind you, your back facing him. He carefully draws the blanket draped over your body up so he could get under them with you. The covers settle in their new spot on the lower halves of your bodies, just barely above the hips, and David starts to run his hand on the smooth skin of your exposed arm.
The contact stirs you awake, but your eyelids weigh too heavy to open them in your tired state. You’d fought for as long as your body could allow you to, waiting for David, before succumbing to sleep. You revel in his tender touch, the warmth of his body transferring onto yours, and not realizing your body starts to rub up against his until you feel the puffs of his hot breath behind your ear along with a string of small incoherent noises.
By now, the front of his body is flushed and parallel behind yours, his legs tangled with your legs. The hand that was previously caressing your arm had snaked its way around your midsection resting on your abdomen, cheekingly on the patch of skin that wasn’t covered by the ridden-up camisole. You reach down and grab that hand to bring it up and place it at your breastbone, allowing him to feel the beat of your heart, with your fingers interlocked. Never had either one of you felt perfectly fit with another than with each other.
Featherweight kisses are stamped all around the back and crook of your neck, causing a shiver to run down your spine, creating a domino effect that rippled through your body as your legs, still weaved in his, start to tousle with one another. The top of his thighs occasionally brushing the underside of your panties increasing the friction and your grip on his hand grows tighter. When his tongue licks along the shell of your ear, you let out a breathy response from being caught off guard by his actions.
You’re not in control of your body anymore as your hips buck backwards and grind rough up against his groin on their own. You loved to hear him, whether it be his ragged breathing or the sultry moans or the filthy words that spewed out of his luscious lips - whatever because it was you that caused it.
The hand that was held hostage by yours against your sternum, trapped between each breast, broke free. Now in control, it snuck underneath the thin clothing material, and back to its previous position in front of your breasts before grabbing a handful of flesh. Your shirt twisted and stretched from the movements, and all your hand could do was go along for the ride as he kneaded your breasts.
When he had his fill, his hand wandered all over your body, abandoning yours, as it ran along your ribs, your curves, your hips and then slithered into the front of your panties. The palm of his hand ignites a tingle in your lower region until his fingers glide along the slit of your pussy, and in an up-and-down motion gathering some of your arousal. Once his digits are wet enough, he settles them on your clit and begins rubbing small, delicate circles. Your breathing increases and your free hand reaches out to grab a hold of the bed sheets due to the pressure he applied every now and then.
He switches up the routine by taking turns rubbing your clit and teasing the entrance of your opening, to gradually and expertly slipping in and giving a curl or two inside of you.
“You feel that?” He asks, his finger hooking inside, “I can feel you,” he says before extending the digit to dive in deeper.  David comments huskily in your ear, “so wet,” then teasingly nibbling on it, “so warm...and ready for me.”
Your arousal overflowing, slicking your thighs and staining the bed. His fingers were beginning to move faster, running off course, and just begging for the dam to break. The lewd wet noises mixed in with the moans, you choke out a gasp, no longer able to keep hold of the reservoir as you come from his handy work. His wet hand grips your waist in an attempt to hold you still all while you’re drowning in the pleasure.
You mumble swears into the side of the pillow while also trying to wipe the sweat that had built up around your forehead on the fabric. You’re not sure what brought that on, but who were you to complain? His release is your pleasure. Whatever he needed to work out, you were more than willing to be at his disposal.
Shuffling noises could be heard behind you, but you’re still recovering from the first orgasm. It’s not until the crotch of your panties are being pushed to the side and you feel the tip of his bare cock, the velvety skin rubbing harshly between your folds, when he pushes in your eyes snap open. There’s a slight sting at the intrusion with every inch of his thick cock sinking in deeper and deeper, stretching you out. He’s got almost a death grip on your hips as he basks in the warmth of your walls. His hand loosens its hold only to hoist your leg up, as it now rests on the bed, giving him more room to properly fuck you. All you can hear is his jagged and warm breaths pounding at your eardrum.
The force of his thrusts pushes you little by little away from him, he has to wrap his arms around you to keep you in place. Now unable to escape his embrace, you hold onto his forearms tightly as hip hips continue to collide into yours.
“Oh-oh my...God,” you can barely muster up a full sentence, “Fuck! Dav-...you’re-...it feels so good, David,” and it sounds as if the words are being knocked out of your mouth with each thrust. He liked hearing his name spill from your lips and as if you read his mind you give him that until your throat is dry and the intensity of his actions render you unable to do so.
Your hands itching to grab a hold of any part of him, you release your death grip on the bed sheets and reach behind you, over your head, and fist a handful of his short dark hair. It’s hot and sweaty, but you don’t care because the noise you pull out from deep in his throat ignites a new spark in the pit of your stomach and your walls to involuntarily squeeze his length.
He reluctantly pulls out of you and presses your body down to lie flat on your back. The fervor coursing through his veins causes him to pull your underwear all the way down your legs, a light snap could be heard from the rough tug indicating the damage done. After he peels off the sweat stained top off of your body and rids himself completely of his boxers, David settles in between your legs, braces one hand on the side of your head to support himself as the other cradles it.
David brushes the matted hair away from your face. It’s still considerably dark and only the moonlight that peaks through the slit of the drawn curtains help his eyes settle on you and take in the vulnerable look on your face; both bare open for the other. You can feel the ridge of the head of his cock glide against your clit and you wonder why he’s taking so long to finish what he started.
“David, please,” you plead softly. Your hand had come up to trace the outline of his jaw, the first signs of an early stubble pricking the skin on the palm of your hand.
He nods in response and slowly slides his body down a few inches to glide right back in. Your back arches and presses up against his, your hardened nipples poke into the soft faint tresses of hair on his chest. David’s hips ground into yours in wavelike motions, hitting deeper and deeper. He dips his head down closer to you, your mouth hung open in ecstasy, allowing him to tug your bottom lip with his teeth then sucking on the full muscle. David runs his tongue along it to soothe the swollenness before dipping in the cavern of your mouth.
Your tongues instantly collide with one another’s. Your eyes shut tightly, wetness pooling at the corners from the ardent passion radiating from both you and David’s actions. He felt so damn good. You wished you could have this, be like this with him, for the rest of your days, but the reality of it all wasn’t going to just hand it to you so easily. His children, Vicky, his profession, his PTSD - despite all those, you’d go through it all. All for David.
You pull your mouth off his for some air. You open your eyes to see him staring right into you. The bright blue eyes turned a deeper shade, almost black in the night and from want, but you could still make out the sadness behind them. The tears that had run down the side of your face for him burn your ears. Now more than anything you wanted to make him feel good, even if it was only temporary. He needed this release.
“It’s okay,” you’re still struggling to communicate, trying to block the pleasure so you can speak properly, “it’s okay, David...you can use me,” finding one of his hands in yours and finally giving him permission.
David stills, eyes never leaving yours, he’s looking for confirmation that he heard you right. Why would you want him to do that to you? His heart swelled at the notion that you trusted him, but he couldn’t trust himself. He didn’t want to hurt you.
You see his mouth open and close, but nothing audible comes out, so you take the initiative and grab the hand that wasn’t supporting him over your frame. You crane your head back, baring yourself to him, and then place his hand on the column of your neck, his fingers settling themselves around it naturally. He shakes his head in protest, you start to feel his hand slipping away, but you’re quick to reposition his hand back on you.
“Are you sure? I might not be able to stop,” he says hesitantly. Your eyes silently let him know you’re certain. This time he nods and leans in for a bruising kiss to your lips, the close proximity of his face momentarily blocks your airway. When he pulls away, he gives you a few seconds to transition.
The quick and sharp thrusts don’t make it easy because that alone knocked the wind out of you, yet you won’t deny the sweet sensation of his dick probing your spot. The pleasure is almost enough to do the job on its own until the pressure from David’s fingers around your throat tightens gradually.
You’re rendered helpless underneath David as he gets back into rhythm. He maneuvers his legs to get him into a slight kneeling position, lifting your hips up, your legs dangle off his thick thighs, but this allows for him to use the hand previously supporting him to join the other on your neck. The realization of him kicking it up a notch sends a warning signal to your brain and you suddenly start to get scared. Sure, you trusted David, but that didn’t block out the fact that he still wasn’t stable.
You struggle to swallow down any fear and even to widen your eyes as his grip grows tighter and tighter. You can’t even gurgle out a whimper of protest. You’re lucky enough to raise your arms and bring your hands on his and desperately attempt to pry his fingers off you. You stare right back at David and notice his empty eyes. He wasn’t in control anymore and you didn’t dare think who he was seeing in front of him instead of you.
In a heat of frenzy, your legs kick up wildly, frantically trying to push his body off yours. Your efforts prove successful as David’s body falters, however only letting his full body weight collapse on you. Before your vision turns black, you manage to pull one hand away from your neck, creating a sense of ease to creep back in, but the hard look on his face crushes your hopes when you think you’ve lost him.
“Dav-“ you attempt to speak, “David,” his name comes out choppy, but you’re able to get something out. “David, it’s me…,” you plead, hoping that’s enough to bring him back.
“David, please,” the grip of his hand might as well have been iron shut around your neck, you’re like an animal clawing at a door. So just when you think that wasn’t enough, that you weren’t enough, you use the last bit of oxygen to admit your feelings, “I’m sorry, David…” you swore you saw his eyes blink, but nothing changed until your next three words, “I love you,” that all movements ceased. You’d given up, but he stayed hovered over you in shock. Then he instantly lets go allowing oxygen to start flowing through you regularly again.
David slides out and off of you, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed in a sitting position with his back to you once more, a hand over his mouth. He can’t believe he’d actually lost control of himself around you. He saw you had trusted him, but he knew he wasn’t well. He should’ve never let you go through with it. He could’ve unintentionally killed you.
You greedily sucked air back into your system and rubbed the soreness on your neck before looking over to David. His sobs wreck his body and you can tell by the slight whimpers and sniffling sounds. You pull yourself up, paying no mind to any modesty, and scoot closer to him. You cautiously lie your head against his back. You feel his body stiffen a bit, so you begin to softly trace the lines of battle scars that scattered his back, delicate touches on the soft tissue, hoping to calm him down.
“David, it’s okay,” your voice is a little hoarse, but it’s still audible and clear, “I’m okay,” you assure him. He finally turns his body around to face you and your heart breaks at the distress on his beautiful face. You feel guilty you let him do this, but you’re not allowed to feel sorry for yourself too long because David wanted to talk about something else.
“You love me?” He questions and your mouth hangs open, at a loss of words, because you’ve already forgotten that you let that slip. There’s a forlorn look of hope etched along his features and your heart stops. There’s no sense in denying it any longer. If it hadn’t been clear before it sure as hell would be by the end of the night.
You nod and confirm, “always...I’ve always loved you, David.” There wasn’t a need to explain for how long. The admission of feelings alone were enough for David to forget about all the wasted time as he dove in, his lips in search of yours again.
He keeps a hand at the back of your head to keep you close, more “I love you’s” spewing from your mouth each time your lips separate for a split second before reattaching themselves. The declaration never goes deaf on both your ears, hearts beating faster and faster.
With your lips resisting to pull away from one another, you manage to crawl onto his lap, straddling him, the moment reignites the fire inside you. You rise up on your knees, giving you a slight height advantage, you brace one hand on his shoulder, the other reaches down between your bodies to grip his still hardened cock. It’s hot and heavy and slightly sticky in your hand as you rub the tip of the head along the pathway to your entrance, effectively coating him for an easy route.
“Let me show you how much I love you,” you say with bated breath and focused only on him, “please.” Not much convincing was needed, and David’s cock slips back in your wet heat with no protest. You sink all the way down, grinding your hips in circular motions, your clit rubbing against his skin and ensuring he’s bottomed out.  
“Oh, you feel good,” he says, voice growing deeper, and at first he’s cautious before laying his hands back on you, but they settle on the sides of your hips and begin to help guide you up and down his cock, “too good,” he growls when you quickly catch on with the movements.
He’s able to drag your bodies to the center of the bed, but when the boiling point rises back up, you push him down, lean back with your hands on his legs to support you, and head thrown back. David picks his head up and the position allows for him to see not only your naked body but how your pussy engulfs his cock repeatedly sending him into overdrive.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” David chants each time his cock is hidden inside you and he resorts to chewing on his bottom lip to contain the expletives.
You feel his hand reach behind you, grabbing a handful of your ass, his strength pulls you in closer by the hips so he’s in all the way once more, you can feel his balls pressed up tight against your bottom, then your body topples over his. You brace your palms of his pecs to prevent you from falling headfirst into him, but his other hand is already at the back of your head bringing your lips back to each other. David’s hips start bucking up into yours to get you back into the groove, but the ache in your legs don’t allow you to perform at 100% anymore.
David rolls your bodies over, with you underneath, and his hips quicken in pace. Your body heaves uncontrollably as you’re close to the edge again and the sweat glistening on your skin has David’s mouthwatering.  
“You’re so fucking perfect,” he comments sliding a hand down your slick body from between the valley of your breasts and to the top of your mound. He wants to say I love you so badly but feels the moment he does he’d break down once more. He knew he loved you and always had too, but in his mind, he didn’t want to give you the hope of having to live with his damaged self. You didn’t need to hear it though because you could feel it.
“Come on, baby,” you encourage him, “give it to me, David,” and your hands finding a new spot on his firm ass to pull him in deeper, “I want it all,” you resort to a begging tactic. It deems successful when you start to feel the sting of each brutal thrust of his hip bones knock into yours causing you to hiss and your nails to dig into his buttocks as he chases sweet euphoria.
He tackles it at the finish line, stilling deep inside of you, and the feeling of his cum spraying straight into your spot, spurts in different intervals, is more than enough to help you tackle your own release. Your legs keep his body locked in, waiting for the aftershocks to subside, he’s quivering from your walls uncontrollably contracting tight around his cock and he does so much as to let out groans in gratification.
Once the waves of pleasure die down, your limbs drop, and he carefully pulls out. He doesn’t know if it was a mistake or not watching his sensitive cock emerge from you, covered in a glossy coat from your release, and his seed spilling out of you slowly then slide down your sore lower half and stain the bed sheets because it begins to elicit more dirty thoughts, but both of your heavy breathing and aching bodies help suggest to put those ideas away for now.
In these rare moments, you were enough to help him block out the world’s harsh realities. He doesn’t regret Ella and Charlie, but never stops wondering how it’d been like if he had kids with you first. Had he waited just a little bit longer for you, but what was the point in dwelling in any of that now? The internal conflict in his mind caused droplets of tears to splash against your cheeks and you start to notice his hurt.
All you do is wrap your arms back around him to pull him into your loving embrace, him nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck and you placing kisses on his head while also running your fingers through his hair. Both of you can feel each other’s heart beats returning to its regular cardiac rhythms. The heavy breathing starts to fade away and the faint sounds of the city start to take over once more as you both begin to drift off.
David would work. He’d work on himself for you. You deserve the best version of him. It was going to take a lot of hard work and willpower, and there would sure to be many obstacles, but now that life presented him with a second chance and allowed him the privilege to be loved by you, he desired nothing more than to return the same compassion. All for you. It was always there within him to love you but locked away when it found no hope or chance to be fulfilled.
He didn’t dare think about what the following morning at work had in store for him or what would result in the catalyst of it all because in that moment he had you with him.
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A/N: There are only two shows I’d willingly have my memory wiped of just for the thrill in rewatching: Prison Break and Bodyguard. I’d have said Twin Peaks, but that’s always going to lie a mystery within. & maybe GoT, but that ruined my life. Anyway, give this some love for our fragile babe! Thank you for reading!
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Hiii Willow! I saw the new prompt list, and was wondering if I could suggest “Shut up and get over here, we’re doing physical affection.” With crosshair, and the rest of the batch? Have a lovely day :)
Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Bad Batch (Cartoon) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Crosshair & Hunter & Tech & Wrecker (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Crosshair (Star Wars: The Bad Batch) & CT-21-0408 | CT-1409 | Echo, Crosshair & Hunter & Omega & Tech & Wrecker (Star Wars: The Bad Batch) Characters: Crosshair (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), CT-21-0408 | CT-1409 | Echo, Hunter (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Omega (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Tech (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Wrecker (Star Wars: The Bad Batch)
Additional Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Mental Health Issues, aka Crosshair is not in a good place, Crosshair Needs a Hug (Star Wars: The Bad Batch) Summary:
Fuck, why’d this have to happen now? He should leave. Hunter had practically hinted at the start that he wasn’t expected to stay. Crosshair had thought he had been trying to be diplomatic, but with every one of Hunter’s aborted jerks towards Crosshair he was further convinced he hadn’t been wanted at all.
What did it matter, anyway, if the brother who’d abandoned him once already wanted him to stay that way?
---
In which I ignore the finale and make up my own reality. Crosshair goes with them and here he figures some stuff out.
also available to read under the cut
Crosshair didn’t know if he hated planets like this one or loved them. They were relatively safe with so few people around, but that was part of the issue. They had let their guard down before, had gotten complacent because they were so damned tired and just wanted somewhere they could breathe.
Crosshair couldn’t breathe anymore.
He’d removed his chip on his own, after he’d gotten burned. Cooped up in the medical bay with memories leaking through and wrapping around his heart, he’d slipped out while the AZ droid was occupied and snuck into a small surgical bay.
He hadn’t felt it, before, but he could feel it now.
It’s grip on him lingered.
So, he participated in training but left when they had a holonight. Omega had been trailing him around any chance she got but he was rude and dismissive because she was just a child. His vode had made attempt after attempt, in their own ways, to reconnect, but Crosshair knew the truth.
He’d never be the brother he’d been before.
They’d been on this backwater for a month now, had established a routine and were settling into a new rhythm. Crosshair couldn’t avoid them much, what with their living space being the size it was, but they swapped watch every three hours at night and it was easy to let his watch slip into Tech’s, into Wrecker’s, right into the sunrise without reprieve.
They all knew that he did it, but none of them seemed able to bare to breach the subject, and that suited Crosshair just fine.
Last night he’d lasted until the rain stopped. The sun wasn’t up when he’d stood by Hunter’s pillow, the only thing he needed to do to wake him, but he’d stayed outside the marauder’s ramp, slowly sinking into the mud, for most of the night.
It genuinely hadn’t occurred to him that standing in the rain would get him sick (but maybe it had). Even if he was sick, he doubted they’d care anymore (he knew they would). He could care less what they thought, he’d stay quiet and die before he humiliated himself any further (he was desperate, so desperate, for their care).
Hunter scared the living hell out of him when his hand landed square on Crosshair’s shoulder.
“Woah, woah there Cross, sorry.” Hunter voice was soft, but Crosshair suspected it was because Omega was peeking around his shoulder to stare at Crosshair. Both their brows were furrowed in the same way. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“What do you want, Hunter?”
Hunter fixed him with a long, hard stare. Crosshair used to be able to meet Hunter’s eyes no problem. Now he lasted fourteen seconds before he had to fix it on the wall to the right.
“Watch a holo with us? Wrecker’s got first watch.”
“You should, Crosshair, you can’t be standing outside with a cold anyways,” Omega said, reaching her hand out as if she were going to hold Crosshair’s. He twitched back and stared at her.
Hunter put his arm around her and pulled her in close to his side. Crosshair got the message. No matter how much his brothers talked about believing he was safe now, that they wanted him back, he’d never be able to see passed their love for Omega. Omega, who’d sprung up in his place and who’d never be capable of the evils he’d done.
Unblemished. A sacred, innocent child.
Crosshair knew his place.
“Cross,” Hunter’s voice, still quiet and gentle (why the fuck was he still being gentle?) snapped his attention back. “Just c’mon. We won’t make you stay the whole time if you really can’t stand it, but we picked a good one.”
Tech had rigged a holo setup for them all years ago in the bunkroom. The best view had been from Crosshair’s bed, which had been Echo’s since he’d left, and was now full of blankets and pillows and scattered bowls of popcorn.
Echo was on the right end, propped up against the wall and only half awake. They had started to become more like brothers before Crosshair had left, but now with all the space Crosshair had thrown in between them and their shared history of being unwilling tools, Crosshair doubted Echo would want to be closer to him than was absolutely necessary, save himself from reliving his past, so he settled on the opposite of the bed. Omega flew in and practically dove headfirst into Echo’s side, giggling and wrapping herself up in one of his blankets.
Crosshair looked away, the pang in his chest resounding through every inch of his body. Maybe he was sicker than he thought.
“Alright, here we go,” Hunter said, sitting directly in the middle of the space between them all.
It was a fine movie. It held Crosshair’s attention well enough, but halfway through he started drifting, the sound of the movie mingling with the rain on the metal plating of the Marauder and lulling him just enough that he found himself listing sideways. He didn’t even realize he was going towards Hunter until his temple hit soft civvies and he jerked eyes he didn’t remember closing wide open and lurched back towards the bubble of his personal space.
The pang returned, aching, raw, and Crosshair started to think he had a fever.
It happened again and again, and each time Crosshair’s heart crept further and further up his throat until his shoulders were up near his ears and he knew even Omega could read the tension in his back and face clear as day.
Fuck, why’d this have to happen now? He should leave. Hunter had practically hinted at the start that he wasn’t expected to stay. Crosshair had thought he had been trying to be diplomatic, but with every one of Hunter’s aborted jerks towards Crosshair he was further convinced he hadn’t been wanted at all.
What did it matter, anyway, if the brother who’d abandoned him once already wanted him to stay that way?
“Crosshair!”
Chip or no chip, Crosshair was programmed to obey that tone of voice quicker than breathing.
Fortunately it was Hunter calling him and not a Kaminoan, because the less than regulation ‘hhhuh?’ he let slip would have gotten him at the least an extra stint in the labs.
“That’s enough. Get over here, we’re doing physical affection,” Hunter said, that same Sith damned gentleness only barely masked by his command and an underlying ripple Crosshair was loathe to admit was concern.
Crosshair hadn’t thought it’d be possible to be less comfortable sitting on a bed but the new tension seizing each and every inch of him proved him woefully incorrect.
“Shut up, Cross—”
“I didn’t even—”
“I said shut up and get over here,” Hunter said, leaning towards him and this time passing the invisible line that he’d been approaching all night.
His hand gripped Crosshair’s farthest shoulder and pulled him into his side, face squished into the civvies that still somehow smelt like plastoid and held him there. A blanket was being draped over him but Crosshair felt like he had after that damned operation. Something was lifted from him, dark and oppressive and it was so good it was gone but now he felt himself being carried downstream faster than he could take it all in.
Really, it wasn’t a surprise when the first tear fell. He supposed that was what had been building up in his chest, part of that pressure, for days now. But the grip on his shoulder tightening, the shushing and the hand that was suddenly cradling his head, unafraid of the rippling, ugly scars, that was nothing he had ever expected to have again.
Hunter just held him impossibly closer. Everything was blurring, but Omega had reached across Hunter and was gripping onto Crosshair’s hand. He found he was gripping back.
The blurring turned into the good, floaty hazy he so rarely achieved.
For the first time, Crosshair felt safe again.
When he woke up the next morning, not remembering the moment he’d lost the battle with sleep, Tech sandwiching him in against Hunter’s side. Omega was where she had been the night before, but Echo was sitting in a chair taken from their messhall, sipping caf and wearing the most ridiculous handmade sweater Crosshair had ever seen.
Wrecker wasn’t there.
“He kept watch all night.”
Echo wasn’t even looking up from the ‘pad in his lap.
“And yes, he was the one who made me this. Thought I looked too cold all the time for my own good.”
Crosshair snorted.
“I know, it’s ridiculous.”
Silence again. Echo’s eyes darted from the ‘pad but to his caff, not to Crosshair yet.
“They—we – really do want you here, Crosshair. No matter what.” He shifted a bit, sipped his caff before laughing. “I mean, look at me. I’m a screwed up reg you guys picked up without a second thought. You really think they’d give you up that easily?”
But they had, hadn’t they?
Echo finally met Crosshair’s eyes.
“Crosshair, Hunter beat himself up after losing you ever single day until we got you back. Still does. It wasn’t right but it’s what happened. You’re back with us now. You’re with us, so you can stop running, alright? Take it from someone who knows. Running gets you nowhere but alone.”
Echo’s eyes shone with tears but they didn’t fall; Crosshair’s rolled down his cheeks and pattered in a steady rhythm onto Hunter’s shoulder.
All he could do was look his brother in the eyes and nod.
33 notes · View notes
kopikokun · 3 years
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Snack Run with a Snack༄ j.jh
↳ On your usual movie night with the members, they assign you sudden snack collecting duty. You’re a little peeved, but at least Jaehyun offers to tag along. Unfortunately for you, things really aren’t going in your favour tonight.
pairing: idol!jaehyun x camera operator!reader (feat. johnny, jungwoo & doyoung)
genre: fluff, comedy, co-workers to lovers
warning(s): expletives
word count: 3526 words
☽༓・*˚⁺‧͙ 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁: crush (souly had) ✧ mango love (shawn wasabi, satica) ✧ make you feel pretty (lovelytheband)
Request 39: Jaehyun x Staff!Reader during movie night where she’s an extrovert and is close to all of the members.
← BACK TO NAVI.
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— 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝.
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Your fortnightly movie nights are always something you anticipate eagerly, no matter how frequent or repetitive they may be. It’s always nice being able to take a breather from the grievous monotony of your daily schedule to just kick back and—essentially—do nothing. You know the rest of the members cherish these ephemeral moments too, because despite all odds, they’ll valiantly try to show up and join you, or at the very least make an appearance. Once, Ten had even barged in, still with his extensions intact.
    To be fair, you’re not any better. When you heard that Jaehyun was participating the other day, you had dropped all other priorities just to come over. Safe to say, your roommate was not pleased seeing the state of the abandoned living room.
    Your vision sweeps the perimeter of the room. Usually, it’s packed to full capacity, but there are only four others here besides you today.
    “The glasses.” Doyoung purses his lips, planting his stare on a startled Jungwoo. “Where are the glasses? I thought I told you to get them?”
    Jungwoo smacks a hand to his mouth, the sound of skin against skin so loud that you wince on his behalf. “It totally slipped my mind. Honest to God. I got sidetracked.” He clasps your—an innocent bystander’s—shoulder with such force that you physically jolt forward. Jungwoo flashes you his signature million dollar smile.“Hey, could you be a dear and help me out? I still haven’t decided what movie we should watch tonight.”
    “Yeah, sure.” You grimace, already turning on your heel, mumbling, “You didn’t have to hit me.”
    “Thanks!” he calls after you. “And sorry!”
    His voice cuts through the hurried chattering between Jaehyun and Johnny which comes into earshot as you step into the kitchen. Their mouths move at the speed of bullet trains and Jaehyun’s hands flutter around his pensive face frantically. Maybe it’s the rose-tinted lenses, but the sight endears you. The slightest of chuckles escapes your lips at his delirium.
    Their bodies seize, their zealous conversation slipping into a steady silence.
    “What’s wrong?” you smirk. “Were you guys talking about me?”
    “No,” Jaehyun snaps, so quickly that it almost prickles. “Why would we be talking about you?”
    “Ouch,” you pout, masquerading the sting with a frivolous cadence . “How mean.”
    “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” he says. “What are you doing here? I thought you were, uh, clearing the table?” There’s a nervous edge to Jaehyun’s voice which insinuates that he knows something you don’t.
    “I was, but then Jungwoo asked me to get the glasses in his stead since he’s too busy fussing over which movie we should watch.”
    Johnny laughs. “I should go help him out then, or he’ll be stuck on the selection page for ages.” He pats Jaehyun’s back as he leaves. “Don’t make a fool of yourself.”
    You toss an inquisitive glance at Jaehyun. He turns away, cheeks blooming with colour.
    Admittedly, you’re more than intrigued by what Jaehyun had been so ardently conversing about. A small part of you whispers the possibility of it being you, and your heart soars. Now you’re the one getting sidetracked. Of course, you are. This is one of the rare moments you and Jaehyun have shared alone. Although you see him almost daily, there’s always someone closeby; a fellow staff or member of the group. And while you’d consider yourself someone who thrives in social situations, there’s nothing more you desire than a few seconds in solitude with the charming man.
   You swing the plywood cupboard door open, extinguishing your idle delusions, the handle cool in your grasp. Three shelves greet your vision; each stuffed full with either miscellaneous tableware or seldom used kitchen utensils. You spot the mug you gave Mark for his birthday collecting dust in the corner and scoff bitterly. And he said it’s his ‘favourite mug’.
    Your face screws in bewilderment. Usually, the glasses are graciously arranged on the bottom shelf; easily accessible for the people who are less gifted in the height department (namely you). Strangely, today they are at the very top, shoved deep inside, so far in that you’d think that it had been done with malicious intent. If they were in the middle, perhaps you could’ve reached them with a little extra effort, but given their current position, even on your tiptoes you wouldn’t even come close. The tips of your fingers barely graze the bottom portion of the glass. You huff.
    “Do you need help?”
    Your head swivels to see a clearly humoured Jaehyun, his eyebrow arched.
   “Yeah, someone’s kept the glasses on the top shelf,” you grumble, tenaciously continuing to reach for them despite knowing that you and your height—or rather, lack of it—have been bested. “Must’ve been Johnny. The tall-ass.”
    “You’re probably right. It wouldn’t be his first time either.” You groan in exertion. “Hold on, let me help.”
    “Thanks, Jae—”
    Your eyes widen and your stature stiffens. Just the smell of his aftershave is enough to knock you out.
    Jaehyun’s chest presses against your back firmly. His hot breath tickles your neck; the fine hairs stand on end. His right arm, hugged in the most breathtaking way by a black sweatshirt, reaches forward while his left is planted on the counter in front of you, caging you in. You’ve done your fair share of ogling at Jaehyun’s more than ravishing physique before, but only from afar. At this proximity however, you can individually trace every vein on his forearm. They’re like roots branching across the ample muscle. God, you’re making it very apparent that you’re staring.
    While probably not the most proficient, you don’t dispute this method of reaching for glasses. You’re sure Jaehyun knows there are better ways to do this too.
    Stunned, you all but stare in what you can only describe as awe at Jaehyun’s side-profile. Sharp lines accentuated by peculiarly delicate features, you can’t help but imagine how it would feel like running your fingers over the curves of his cheekbones, the arch of his nose and the dip of his cupid’s bow.
    Jaehyun’s gaze latches onto yours, his arm still hanging above your head. You swallow dryly before licking your lips. Jaehyun’s jaw clenches, the movement guiding his eyes to them. The counter is digging into your hip.
    “I got the glasses,” he breathes, your vicinity means you can practically taste the mint on his tongue.
    “Thanks,” you mumble.
    Neither of you move farther or closer to each other.
    Jaehyun places the glasses beside you. “I should probably go set up the projector now.”
    “Yeah, you should.” No, don’t.
    He nods curtly, prods the inside his cheek with his tongue and shuffles out of the kitchen. You lean on the counter, recomposing yourself. Your heart pounds in your ribcage. Jaehyun’s lingering aftershave muddles any chance of a coherent thought.
    What was that?
    Sure, over the past week or two, you and Jaehyun have made your ever augmenting attraction to one another remarkably tangible, but neither of you had acted upon it. Until now.
    Dazed, you almost forget to do what you had initially come in here for. You have to literally turn a 180 to retrieve the five glasses which sit innocuously on the countertop; they lay witness to your sins.
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    “So, how’d it go?”
    “Did you do it?”
    “Well, technically no, but—”
    The four men are huddled together in the middle of the living room, each with equally suspicious expressions carved into their faces. Jaehyun’s back is turned to you as he’s hunched over, almost like he’s sharing some petty gossip.
    You set the glasses down on the communal dining table, shift your weight on one leg and perch your hands on your hips like a disgruntled teacher waiting for her class to fall silent. Doyoung is first to sense your presence, nudging Johnny and jutting his chin towards you.
    You can’t suppress the snort that courses through you when—simultaneously—all four of them disperse. It looks almost rehearsed.
    “Why are you guys acting so weird today?”
   Johnny sputters, Jungwoo chokes on presumably his own spit, Doyoung makes a sound which resembles more of a wheeze than a cough, and Jaehyun’s body goes completely rigid.
    “We’re not acting weird,” scoffs Johnny.
    You’re unconvinced. Just the way the whole room was immediately shrouded in a thick cloud of tension at your question was very telling.
    “Yes, you ar—”
    “Alright then,” Jaehyun clasps both of his hands together like a middle-aged man in the midst of a conference, “the movie! Jungwoo, what did you pick this week?”
    Jungwoo hammers a fist to his heaving chest. “I picked Jojo Rabbit.”
    “Oh, Minji noona watched it the other day. She told me it was so good she cried,” Johnny says. “And she rarely—if ever—cries over movies, or anything, really.”
    “Why didn’t she and the others come over today? They’re always here for movie night.” By the others, you’re referring to the rest of the staff who are usually present. Being more or less the same age, the members naturally gravitated towards the rest of you; your closeness in years meant that you could easily relate to one another. You’d consider yourself a decently convivial person as well, which was probably another fundamental factor.
    Once again, a restless fog congests the room. You seem to have struck another nerve.
    Jungwoo tightens his grip on the remote. “They were… busy.”
    His spontaneous lie is deplorable at best, but you let it slide.
    You assume they think your conjectures have diffused because they seem to share a relieved glance; Jaehyun casts an appreciative smile to the bunch. He clears his throat. You don’t miss the mental exchange between him and Johnny, who grins wittingly.
    “How about the snacks?”
    All eyes are on you.
    Your eyebrows cinch. “What?”
    “The snacks,” Jungwoo reiterates. “You’re on snack duty.”
    The way he says it makes it sound like you were aware of this. “No, I’m not.”
    “Yeah, we told you in the groupchat,” Doyoung says. Jungwoo seems to be restraining a smile.
    “No, you in fact, did not.” Scorned by this blatant accusation, you begin fishing your phone from your front pocket to show the others that none of you had come to that agreement.
    Jaehyun’s hand coils around your wrist, halting your movements. “I’ll come.”
    “I’m sorry?”
    “I’ll come along with you to get the snacks,” his grip loosens, “if you want me to.”
    “Oh.” Your arm falls limp to your side. You study Jaehyun’s earnest gaze. “Sure.”
    It’s painfully palpable that the rest of the group were expecting this; their lips curling with a smirk of gaiety.
    “Great, I’ll go grab some cash.”
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You really should have thought twice about letting Jaehyun tag along.
    “You should’ve stayed at home.”
    “I wanted to come.”
    You’re reasonably terrified, both for you and Jaehyun’s sake. Getting recognised out in public is an all too plausible scenario, and you really do not have the resolve or strength to fend off a horde of fans right now.
    “Relax, it’s like 11pm. Nobody’s going to be just walking out here. At least, not anybody sober.”
    While he makes a valid point, you’re still skittish. “Alright, but keep your head down.”
    “How will I see where I’m going?”
    Collecting your wits, you reach for his hand to tug him forward. “I’ll lead the way.”
    Though Jaehyun is more than capable of staying grounded in his spot, you drag him along with relative ease, like a lifeless rag doll.
    “I… was just kidding.”
    Not looking back, you say, “Does that mean you want me to let go of your hand?”
    Brazenly, Jaehyun intertwines his fingers with yours, strengthening his palm’s embrace. A jolt of exaltation zips up your spine.
    “No, don’t.”
    The remainder of the brisk walk to the convenience store is spent in exhilarating quietude, one that conveys a hundred messages. Not once does Jaehyun’s hold of your hand weaken.
    The intimacy of the store welcomes you wholeheartedly. From its single constantly flickering bulb, that one cooler door with the rickety handle, and to the out-of-order slushie machine, you could peruse this store with your eyes closed. Being NCT’s camera operator first and designated snack buyer second, you’ve been in here more times than anyone should ever have to be in a lifetime.
    It’s not the most popular store on the block. Their selection is limited, their interior outdated, but in your humble opinion, they are leagues ahead of any other store out there. Plus, it’s usually vacant, meaning minor risk of being spotted. Other than you, Jaehyun and the single weary employee, there’s only one other person in here, a tattered hood draped over their head. While they’re sketchy in a certain sense, you’re confident that they don’t pose a threat to you or Jaehyun’s safety.
    “I’ll go get the crisps and you get the chocolates,” you declare, standing on your tiptoes.
    “Chocolates? We’re getting chocolates? We already have some in the fridge.”
    “Okay, then I’m getting chocolates.”
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Another reason you love this place to bits is because of its prices. Everything is outrageously cheap. The first time you had visited, wet behind the ears, soul bursting with vigour yet pockets embarrassingly empty, you almost cried. You had one of the best dinners of your early adult life in this very store. Sure, it was just a truckload of processed, packaged food, but here’s the thing: it was a truckload. And when you’re as financially stable as a thumbtack balancing on the tip of its point, a truckload of food is a blessing bestowed by the Gods.
    So, safe to say, you and Jaehyun definitely got your money’s worth.
    In fact, in the time the two of you expended scouring the aisles for tid-bits, a forlorn cloud had consumed the sky. It had started raining. Lightly at first, but the drizzle had swiftly transitioned into a furious storm.
    Thunder claps in the distance, the sound so tumultuous it shakes the tiles of the store floor, the vibrations so intense they reach the tip of your head.
    “Do you have enough money for an umbrella?” you ask.
    “Even with an umbrella, I think it’d be too dangerous for us to go out there,” Jaehyun says, and as if to illustrate his point, another bolt of lightning strikes the Earth. The convenience store trembles. “And no, I don’t have enough money for an umbrella.” From the tone of Jaehyun’s voice, his delight is hidden by the pretense that he too is upset by this development.
    “Then I guess we’ll have to call one of the guys to pick us up.”
    Jaehyun’s expression immediately turns sour. “I mean, yeah… I guess we could.”
    Under normal circumstances, you would have been pouncing at the opportunity to spend some quality one-on-one time with Jaehyun, alas, three other undoubtedly starving men are waiting for your return.
    A long, dull white counter, meant for customers to sit and eat at faces the heavy gloom outside. Droplets of rain cling to the glass like fluorescent crystals embedded to cave caverns, before slipping down in a wavering trickle, racing each other to the bottom. You take a seat on one of the plastic stools and Jaehyun takes the one beside you, dropping the bag of snacks to the floor.
    “Hello?” Johnny’s sonorous voice greets through your speakers.
    Jaehyun stares at you, anguished. To his right, the hooded stranger from earlier slips into the third stool, leaning forward and shelving their chin on a palm. They stare outside the window.
    “Hey, Johnny. We got the snacks, but Jaehyun and I have a separate problem.”
    “I know. It’s pouring.”
    “Exactly,” you nod. Jaehyun looks like he’s about to crumble into a heap of anxiety. “Can you pick us up? We don’t have enough cash to hail a taxi.”
    There’s a commotion on the other side of the line; hushed discussion and rustling of fabric. You can’t pick up a lot, only the words, “Yeah.” and “So, that’s what we’ll say?”
    “Sorry,” Johnny finally says, after much delay. “I can’t.”
    “What do you mean you can’t?”
    Beside you, Jaehyun visibly perks.
    “Car’s being repaired,” he replies languidly. “Mark popped a tyre while learning to drive the other day.”
    You groan. “You’re joking.”
    “Dead serious.”
    “God, the car just had to be out today of all days.”
    “Sorry, it can’t be helped,” Johnny sighs, a twinge of mischief to his voice. “The matter’s out of my hands.”
    “It’s fine. We’ll just… wait it out or something.”
    “We’ll try and see if any of the others can swing by and pick you guys up, so just stay put for now.”
    “Alright thanks, Johnny. Sorry about tonight.”
    “Nah, it’s fine,” he says. “Have fun with Jae.”
    The call ends with a click before you can probe Johnny further.
    “No go?” Jaehyun chirps.
    You shake your head. “No, though you don’t seem bummed out about it.”
    “Yeah,” he shrugs. “It’s not often I can spend some time alone with you anyway. In a way, I’m glad.” You bite the flesh of your cheek, face turning hot. Jaehyun turns in his seat, reaching down for the plastic bag. “And, we have snacks to—”
    His eyebrows furrow.
    “Jae?” His adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “The snacks?”
    “They’re… gone.”
    “What?”
    “I put them right here beside me, but they’re gone! I swear I—”
    The bell above the door chimes as the mysterious figure—the one who had been sat beside Jaehyun mere seconds ago—dashes out, with, lo and behold, a very familiar plastic bag dangling in their grasp.
    You point a finger towards them. “They stole our snacks!”
    Jaehyun’s head whips around to gawk at the culprit who has already made their way out of the store, head-first into Mother Nature’s wrath. He leaps out of his seat, hell-bent on chasing the person down, practically foaming at the mouth. “Motherfucker—”
    This time, you’re the one who grips his wrist. “Jaehyun, wait. It’s not worth it.”
    “They just stole all of our snacks! Am I supposed to just watch them get away with them?” he seethes. If not for his genuinely fuming expression, you would’ve laughed at the absurdity of the situation.
    “They already had a head-start, Jae. I doubt you’ll be able to chase them down. And what if someone sees you? How are we supposed to explain why Jung Jaehyun of NCT was sprinting in the rain after a stranger with a bag of snacks?”
    His shoulders sag. “But… our snacks… and your chocolate! What about your chocolate?”
    “It’s fine. I didn’t even get the version I liked. They were all out of the original ones.”
    Jaehyun slumps back into his seat, defeated. “Should we call the police?”
    You snicker. “And tell them our snacks got stolen? They’d laugh in our faces.”
    “I hate that you’re right. I wish they’d treat snack theft with the same severity of other crimes,” he jests, despite still being obviously disheartened. “Hope whoever that was gets struck by lightning and fucking sizzles out there.” He cards a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry.”
    “It wasn’t your fault, Jae. I mean, who the hell steals snacks anyway?”
    “No, not that. Well, I am sorry about that but what I meant was... I screwed this up.”
    “Screwed what up?”
    “You know how everyone was acting really strangely today?”
    “You guys weren’t being very secretive about it.”
    He huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, well, it was because they were helping me get us alone.”
    Jaehyun’s confession is like the final piece of a puzzle; the final thread to connect all the dots together. “So that explains why everyone collectively decided to not show up today, and why the glasses were on the top shelf, and why you guys said I was on snack duty when I clearly wasn’t! And I bet the car isn’t even busted too!”
    He nods, a wry smile etched onto his lips. “The glasses weren’t actually a part of the plan, but in the end, they were in my favour, so I’m not pissed about it.” You flush as the memory floods you. “They did all of that, and yet I still blew it.”
    “Who said you blew it?” you say. Jaehyun lifts his head to look at you. “We’re alone right now, aren’t we?”
    He swipes his tongue over his teeth. “Well, yeah, I suppose we are.”
    “So, just tell me you like me already.”
    Jaehyun jerks back in his seat. “You knew?”
    “Of course I knew,” you grin, “because, I like you too.”
    His face breaks out into the widest smile possible; one that stretches his lips so much that it must ache. “You do?”
    “Yes, I do,” you giggle. “Even though you got our snacks stolen.”
    By the time you two make it back to the dorm, clothes dripping rainwater onto the carpet, lips swollen from stolen kisses, and smiles teeming with euphoria, the rest of the street is already dark. Johnny, Jungwoo and Doyoung greet you with knowing smiles and playful comments.
    “Look, I’m super happy for you guys and stuff but,” Jungwoo gestures to your empty hands, “where the hell are the snacks?”
216 notes · View notes
simonsrosebud · 3 years
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what if kevin & dalton had been set up instead of meeting on their own?
(pls accept this as apology for not posting any kalton for MONTHS)
kevin doesn’t have a date to the banquet.
normally, it’s fine.  he’s taken allison or renee to the last few, as friends.  but this year, renee has something going on with gwen, their freshman dealer who is somehow only a year younger than himself.  and allison got scooped up by ricky, the other freshman dealer. 
“what happened to us being dates?  i thought it was unspoken?”
allison shrugs and pushes her hair behind her shoulder.  she has her arms crossed as she leans against the doorframe to kevin’s bedroom.  “sure, but ricky has a crush on me and it’s fun playing around with it.”
kevin sends her a look.  “ew, don’t look at me like that.  as if, he’s like a baby to me.”  kevin opens his mouth, but gets cut off.  “you could get a date easily, it’s fine, we’ll help.”
and she’s right.  later that afternoon she shoots a text to the team groupchat.
allison:  kevin needs a date, any and all genders welcome.  must be hot, good at socializing, and able to withstand his complete lack of care for them esp once he starts talking exy. 
allison:  i expect a nominee from each of you.  good luck soldiers.
and kevin’s going to kill that girl.
the freshmen don’t answer, of course.  all of their friends are freshmen, and they’re also just too scared to respond to the foxes sometimes.
aaron responds first, suggesting he just take one of the vixens.  neil chimes in by saying that marissa girl is fucking social alright.
kevin doesn’t get why allison can’t just set him up with one of her friends.  she has a strict rule against any of the foxes dating her non-exy friends, but it’s just an banquet. 
matt comes in last, but instead of the groupchat it’s just to kevin.
matt:  i have a friend named dalton.  he’s in his masters to become a professor but he’s chill. he’s nice and fun too, the best guy i know
kevin knows he shouldn’t be shallow, but...
kevin:  picture?
matt responds almost instantly.  a picture of his friend sitting across from him at starbucks on his laptop.  he looks caught off guard, like matt took the picture without warning.
is he with him right now?
kevin:  maybe.
he drops his head back and rubs his eyes.
an hour later, the door opens.  neil comes in first.  matt is on his heels, and someone else trails in behind him.  kevin sits up.
neil looks at him.  in french, he says, “i wasn’t a part of this.”
kevin stands, and responds back in french.  “you let him in.”  neil shrugs at that, and continues down to the bedroom.
matt nods at him with a smug smile.  “do you still have your psych 101 workbook?  i have to take it next semester and i don’t wanna buy it.”
kevin frowns.  is he not going to introduce his friend?  “uh, yeah.”  he turns to his desk and rummages through the drawers to pull it out.
“oh, this is dalton, by the way.  he’s a friend from sophomore year.”
there it is.  kevin turns back, book in hand, and nods at dalton.
dalton smiles, calm and charming, and tilts his head a bit.  “he’s lying.  i was his TA.”
kevin gives a smile.  it’s small and faint, and mostly fake.  he can’t help it.  he doesn’t care for small talk like this.  how old does that make dalton?
also, how did matt befriend his TA?  kevin’s never spoken a word to the majority of his own.
“can’t imagine having to deal with him in class,” he says, jokingly.
matt doesn’t defend it, just shrugs and moves on.  “hey, did you find a date to the banquet yet?”  he wiggles his eyebrows.  
kevin’s gonna kill him.  he stuffs his hands into his hoodie pocket so he can ball his fists.  “not yet, no.”
he nods, nudges dalton.  “kevin’s on the exy team, too.  he’s the only one without a date to the winter banquet this year,” he says.  “allison, remember allison?  she’s on a manhunt to find someone she approves of for him.”
dalton considers it.  “that sounds like allison.”
kevin refrains from frowning.  “have you met her?”
dalton has, just one time when he and matt went to a football game this fall and made a pit stop to matt’s room.  it’s also when he met neil, albeit very briefly.  neil had too much going on to give him the time of day.
“once, a month or so ago.”
when matt and dalton get into the car, dalton turns halfway in his seat to fully face matt.  “he doesn’t have a date?”  matt shakes his head.  “is he into guys at all?”
matt glances at him.  “yeah, he’s bisexual.”
dalton raises his eyebrows.  “um, hello?!  why didn’t you set him up with me?!”
matt frowns and shoots his friend a look.  “why do you think we just went over?!  i took psychology freshman year!”
dalton’s gonna kill him.  “but you didn’t say anything about me to him.”  matt rolls his eyes and waves him off, and dalton sits back in his seat.
“i know kevin, i know what i’m doing.”
he crosses his arms.  “you’re the worst wingman i’ve ever met.”
but low and behold, kevin texts matt a few hours after his visit.
kevin:  how do u know dalton would want to be my date to the banquet?
matt:  bc he literally told me so
kevin:  fine, ask him if he wants to go and i’ll take him.
when dalton climbs on the bus behind matt, it takes him only a moment to spot kevin and make his way over.
the banquet is five hours away, so the foxes and their dates are changing into their formalwear once they arrive.
dalton has joggers on, and a long sleeve henley that’s a size too big.  his collarbone hangs out as the collar hangs low.  he wears a soft smile, and pushes a hand back through his hair. 
he looks hot.
dalton looks even more hot dressed up in his suit.  he keeps at kevin’s side at first, and talks to both matt and dan from time to time.  allison even pops up once to inquire about him, since he wasn’t one of her picks.
dalton and matt seem to joke around like they’re best friends.  but he doesn’t ever remember matt mentioning him.
then again, if kevin had friends outside of exy, he may not introduce them to the foxes, either.
he finds his way back to kevin’s side at their table, where he’s talking to a trojan player.  after a while, kevin turns to him.  “you don’t have to stick by my side, if you don’t want.”  he almost feels bad.
dalton shrugs and smiles.  “what if i want to stick by your side?”  the way that kevin reacts shows that he wasn’t expecting that, and dalton’s smile turns shy.  “um, i don’t mind, really.  i’d feel bad leaving you alone.  i’m your date.”  he takes a sip of his drink.
“okay.”  it barely leaves kevin’s lips, but it’s enough to make dalton happy.
“you can even talk exy to me, if you want.  i can pretend i know how it works.”
kevin’s heart seizes.  “you don’t know exy?”
dalton grins.  “i’ve never even seen a game.”  he leans closer.  “teach me?”
so he does.  for the next half hour, they sit and kevin blabbers on, and dalton listens and asks questions.  and then they sidetrack somehow to talking about marvel movies and what they suspect will happen in the next spiderman movie.
dalton swears to die on the grave that peter parker is a bisexual icon.
“you can take that title, instead, though.”  his grin is cheeky.  kevin lightly kicks his ankle and rolls his eyes, but he’s heavily amused.
“what about you?  what are you?”
“gay,” he shrugs.  “not much to it.”
“did you… when you told people, how did they react?”
dalton’s head tilts just a bit, and his smile starts to fade.  “some people don’t like it, but it was fine for the most part.”  and after a moment.  “why, are you okay?”
kevin nods.  
dalton doesn’t believe it.  and he supposes he doesn’t know kevin enough to say that, but there’s something about the way kevin doesn’t verbally respond to it that sits weird in his head.
he props his chin in his hand.  “i told my roommates i was gay the first week of freshman year.  my roommate knew, but we had two suitemates, and one of them kinda stopped talking to me after that if he could help it.”  he flicks his eyes up to meet kevin’s.  “my uncle asks me at every family function if i’ve got a girl yet.  he’s known for seven years, now,” he says.  “and thanksgiving is now hosted at my house because my grandmother told my mother that i was unwelcome in hers.”
harsh.  
“i’m sorry.”
he doesn’t know what else he’s supposed to say, really.  he barely has family as it is, but he can’t imagine losing them now because of something so small.
but dalton just shrugs a shoulder.  “it’s okay.  think about it this way, if i was still in the closet i wouldn’t be your date right now.”  he cracks a smile.  always smiling.
that’s when kevin notices just how close their faces are.  and how he keeps glancing at dalton’s mouth.  he sits back.  not here.
dalton goes to the bathroom, and matt takes his seat.  “how’s it going with dalton?”
kevin frowns.  “fine, why?  did he say something?”
matt’s face is indescribable.  “no, but i see you guys getting all close and stuff.  just flirt with him, dude!  he obviously likes you.”
yeah right.  “i-i don’t think so.  he’s just here because i didn’t have a date.”
matt drops his head for a second.  “kevin, after you first met him he scolded me for not setting you two up.  he doesn’t watch exy, and he’s not here for the famous kevin day, just give him a chance.”  kevin looks to the side, where dalton’s on his way back talking with dan at his side.  they’re getting closer, so he talks fast and quiet.  he stands.  “don’t fuck this up, he’s hot and nice,” he whispers, and grins when dan slides into his side.
“we wanna dance.  boys?”  she looks expectantly at both kevin and matt.  matt doesn’t have a choice, but he’d never say no anyway.
dan pulls kevin up and shoves him lightly into dalton, who catches a hand on his waist.  kevin wants to squirm out of it, but not because he doesn’t like dalton, or dalton’s touch.  just because the idea of liking dalton scares him a bit.
but dalton lets go when he finds his balance.
“i don’t- i can’t dance.”
“yeah right, i’ve seen you at eden’s before.”
when he was belligerently drunk.
“you don’t have to.” dalton’s voice is soft behind him.
matt slides his gaze to kevin.  don’t fuck this up.
he turns.  how has his life come to this?  “no.  i will, if you want to.”
dalton grins, lopsided and happy.  “yeah?”
he hopes he doesn’t regret it.  “yeah.” 
so dalton takes him by the hand and leads him after matt and dan.  the majority of the foxes are in the midst of the crowd as well, but they don’t pay them any mind.  there’s enough people that kevin can pretend he’s at eden’s.
kevin is a terrible dancer.  dalton notices it right away and laughs.  when kevin gives him a look he says, “follow my lead.  just sway a little.  nod your head to the music,” kevin looks up at him while he dances, but catches dalton’s eyes instead.
he looks away and falls out of rhythm.  “sorry,” he mumbles.
“it’s okay.”  dalton gently takes kevin’s hands and puts them on his waist.  it feels illegal.  his hands feel like dead weights, he doesn’t know what to do.
is he blacking out right now?
but then dalton’s moving his hips and dancing, and laughing.  he’s having fun and kevin wants to have fun too.
he moves his hands from dalton’s waist to around his neck, and dalton hesitates with his hands near kevin’s hips until kevin nods.
dalton’s fingers dip into his hips.  his one finger taps along the beat of whatever song is playing, while he lightly sings along and bounces back and forth.
it’s dark on this side of the court with the exception of some colored lights darting around.  the designated dancing spot.
kenna is kissing jack in the crowd.
kevin looks back to dalton, singing with a smile plastered on his face.
no one would notice.
kevin’s fingers twitch against dalton’s neck.  but someone could.
he’s already out, but that doesn’t mean he’s kissed a boy in public yet.
he drops his arms.  “i need some air.”
dalton let’s go, “are you okay?”  but he just nods and takes off, off of the court and down the hall to the locker rooms.  the foxes have their things in the away men’s locker room.
kevin sinks down on the bench.  he plays with the bracelet around his wrist, courtesy of betsy in case he needs something to fidget with.  opposed to panicking, that is.
that woman is never wrong.
kevin likes dalton, that’s not in question nor is it really the problem.  the problem is that he doesn’t know what his problem is.  if it’s what people will say when they see that he truly is into men.
being told something versus seeing proof that it’s real are two different things.  he’s learned that, dealt with it more than once.  the last time it was the proof of the raven’s bullying and abuse.  being told that kevin and riko’s relationship isn’t what the fans fantasize it is versus then seeing proof that it isn’t anything that they thought, for example.
kevin had to deal with backlash like that for months after the raven’s investigation post championship game.  him being bi isn’t the same, of course, but he doesn’t know how to predict the behaviors of his fans.  he doesn’t know what they’ll support or not.
but he likes dalton.
“hey.”
one of the freshmen, eva, stands in the doorway.  “stop running 
you don’t have to be scared of people seeing you dance, you know.”
kevin frowns.  “i don’t care about dancing.”
“yeah, but you care about dancing with your date.”  they cross their arms and lean against the doorframe.  “no one cares.  half this team is a little gay, anyway.”
once they’ve changed for the night in the hotel room, dalton hesitates from where he stands by the bed.  “are you okay?  you seemed a little jittery all night, i just... i wanna make sure everything’s fine, i guess.”
kevin looks up, but doesn’t answer. 
stop being so afraid of everything.
he opens his mouth to say something, but he doesn’t know what he can say.
he sighs.
dalton’s standing there, arms crossed, concerned.  kevin swallows his fears as he makes his way across the room until he’s standing right in front of dalton, and slides a hand behind his neck to kiss him.
dalton hums, surprised.  after a moment he brings a hand to kevin’s chest, and there’s a second where kevin thinks hes going to be pushed away.  instead his fingers dig into his hoodie and he pulls kevin closer.
dalton’s smiling as kevin pulls away.  “about time,” he mumbles, and kisses him again.
the back of dalton’s knees hit the bed by accident, but he drops down to sit and gently pulls kevin by the strings of his hoodie.
kevin isn’t new to sex, so to speak.  he’s not the most experienced, but he’s had his fun.  it’s the only reason he’s confident enough to scoot dalton further back and kiss him into the mattress.
dalton wraps an ankle around the back of kevin’s knee.  he curls his fingers into his hair and leans his head back when kevin kisses down his neck.
they wake up to kevin’s phone blaring.  matt’s calling.
kevin only acknowledges the fact that he has his arm around dalton for a second before he checks the time.
they’re late.
wymack’s gonna kill him.
kevin sits up and shakes dalton as he answers his phone.  “hey you guys are awake right?  coach is pulling the bus around then we’re loading up.”
kevin’s out of the bed and throwing his shirt on, tossing dalton’s hoodie to him.  “yeah, we’re coming.”  dalton’s eyes go wide and that kicks him into gear as he realizes the situation.
they look a mess as they run around.  they’ve really only got one pair of clothes and their suits to frantically shove into their bags.  kevin pulls his sneakers on without socks and dalton’s got his on with the laces all undone as they jog down the hall.
at least they brushed their teeth.
dalton drops down to tie his shoes in the elevator, and when he stands kevin takes the liberty of carding his fingers through his hair.
he shrugs.  “bed head.”
dalton can’t help but smile.  “might wanna pull this up a little,” he mumbles, and that’s when kevin realizes that he’d accidentally put on dalton’s long sleeve henley.  the shirt he’d been wearing last night before it got dropped to the floor.
dalton pushes the shirt up so it’s not hanging lower on kevin’s collarbone.  he’s got a nice hickey that needs hiding.
“they’re never going to let this go,” kevin says.
dalton leans back against the elevator wall.  “i’ve got some juice on matt if you ever need.”
kevin smiles, just a little.  despite him worrying all during the banquet, last night was so good.  he doesn’t want it to end as soon as they step off of the bus.  he doesn’t want dalton to be a one night stand, he doesn’t think.
he takes a step forward and kisses dalton against the wall once more.  he pulls away when the elevator dings.
matt smiles to himself as he watches them come around the corner.  he tries to tame it, at least.
kevin and dalton are the last on the bus.  kevin’s spot in the back is open, so they go back there.  dalton toes off his shoes as soon as he sits down.
kevin is on the aisle side.  his chest skips when dalton’s hand lands gently on his thigh.  he doesn’t hate it.
it’s dinner time when they get back to a rainy palmetto.  dalton had fallen asleep on kevin’s shoulder a half hour ago, and jolts awake when matt whoops and shouts to get out of his way so he can run off the bus for the bathroom.
“sorry,” dalton says quietly, scratching his head and yawning into the back of his hand.
“i didn’t mind.” kevin stretches his legs and pulls his shoes on.
dalton’s car is in the gated stadium parking lot.  kevin walks him to it, head ducked because all he’s got on is dalton’s henley.  no one anticipated rain.
dalton turns after unlocking his car, and sticks a ripped off folded note into kevin’s palm.  kevin puts it right into his pocket for safe keeping.  “so are you gonna call me after this?”  dalton’s hair is falling wet over his  forehead.
he nods, mouths the word yeah but nothing comes out.  and dalton can’t help himself, so he takes a step forward and kisses kevin one last time, gentle as he hesitates with his fingers hovering over his cheek.
kevin’s  got nothing to lose at this point, so he curls his hand alone dalton’s neck and steps closer.
he only pulls away because the team is most likely watching, and someone whistles.  “i’ll call you,” he nods.  he shoves his hands into his pockets and ignores the rain as he watches dalton drive out of the parking lot.
he turns towards the maserati and sees andrew shakes his head.  kevin looks down at himself.  he’s halfway to soaked.  not ideal for such an expensive car. which leaves one option.
kevin slides into the front seat of his father’s car.
wymack can’t wipe the smug look from his face.  “so-“
“no.”
84 notes · View notes
thinking1bee · 3 years
Text
Absorbed Part 2
Requested by Anonymous
Pairings: Kara Danvers x Reader
Tags: Angst, Violence, Graphic Depictions of Injuries, Mentions of Transphobic Rhetoric, Hate Crimes, Xenophobia, Powers, Healer!Reader
Everything Taglist: @sammy90682 @nobody13 @owloftheshadows @captain-josslett @camslightstories @worldovart @finleyfray @acertainredhead
You knew that Kara going out on patrol was a bad idea! The atmosphere was swimming in kryptonite, another plan implemented by the Children of Liberty to kill Supergirl. Luckily, Lena came through with an anti-kryptonite suit, but even the smallest breach was enough to expose Kara and harm her severely. You should have said something! You should have reassured her that everyone would have been fine if she sat this one out! But she was adamant, saying that she couldn’t just sit around and do nothing while people were being attacked.
“We’re surrounded!” came Alex’s voice again, and you could hear the strain. You could here her struggling as she fought off their assailants.
“Please if anyone is around, help us!”
You listened as all the other Superfriends as chimed in.
“I can leave now, but it’ll be 20 minutes until I get there,” Nia said.
“Likewise,” Brainy chimed in. “Even if I fly, I put my estimated time of arrival at 22 minutes and 6 seconds.”
“I’m leaving the DEO now,” came J’onn’s gruff voice.
That meant…that meant that no one would get there in time for Kara. It was only a matter of time before she would start seizing. After that, the toxicity would be too great even for her to fight. Kara would die.
“Alex, I’m up the street,” you said. “I’ll be there in 5 minutes.
Your ribs would just have to deal, and you took off at a sprint, running as fast as your legs could take you.
When you got there, you gasped at the scene in front of you. There had to be at least 10 of them, and they were overpowering Alex. You could see Kara on the ground, some few feet away. She was still moving, which was a good sign. At least she hadn’t lost consciousness yet. You took your gun from its holster and fired a warning shot into the air.
They all turned to face you and you smiled, beckoning them to come closer if they dared. Of course, they took the bait and they swarmed you. The thing about angry mobs was that it seemed like once a group of people all got together, the IQ level plummeted drastically, and between all of them, maybe there was one brain cell, acting as a hive a hate for them. Your assumption was true because it was likely that they forgot that you had a gun, and here they were, getting closer and closer as they gripped their bats and crow bars.
One thing that Alex taught you how to do was to shoot to incapacitate instead of to kill, and her rule of thumb was to shoot anything below the knees. You aimed, firing shot after shot, hitting shins and feet and one by one, the Agents of Liberty fell to the ground all while screaming and groaning in pain.  
You took at least 7 of them out before you ran out of bullets, and from there, it was hand to hand combat. You punched one in the nose. The sounds of cartilage crunching sounded off in the space between you before a gush of blood spurted from their nostrils. They fell to the ground as they held what was left of their face. You turned your attention to another, dodging their punch before taking their arm and snapping it at the elbow. The adrenaline overtook you, and you twisted on your feet to face the next person behind them. You were about to engage them when a surprise punch to your cheek made you stumble back. Before you knew it, more of them were showing up, filling in the spaces where their comrades had fallen. It didn’t take too long before you were overpowered as well, and you fell to the ground as they all beat you. You felt feet kick the wind form your lungs, and bats split open skin. You covered your face as best as you could, but it was no use. Soon you were spitting up blood, the world swaying as you struggled to breathe.
You thought that you were going to pass out until you heard boots running towards you. You looked through squinted eyes and blurry vision to see Brainy, Nia, and J’onn sprinting into the crowd, taking on the growing number of the Liberty army. You watched as even your friends became overpowered. Even J’onn, with his multitude of powers, was struggling to keep up with the hoard. They needed Supergirl and you looked over to see her. She was only a few feet away and she still lie writhing on the ground. You crawled there, wincing and crying out at the way your body screamed for you to stop moving, but you pushed through it, willing yourself to keep moving, to make it to the woman that had done so much for you already. When you got there, you peaked inside the helmet to see her eyes squeezed closed in pain. The displays in her helmet flashed wildly and you could see the warnings, the suit repeating over and over that there was a breach in the suit.
“Kara, can you hear me?” you asked her. She nodded weakly, groaning as her body throbbed in pain. You could see the way her veins glowed an ominous, neon green beneath her skin. They almost seemed to raise under her skin, forcing themselves out her body.
“It hurts,” she whimpered.
“I know.”
You knew what you had to do. You would have to heal her, and you told her that. She forced her eyes open, shaking her head weakly.
“Y/n, this could kill you. It’s too dangerous.”
You shook your head. Kara was who everyone needed. She was hope and light. She never gave up, even when the odds looked grim, even when there was every reason to just give up. Kara changed so many lives, including yours. She made life worth living. She reminded you that sometimes it wasn’t just about living for what you wanted, but it was enjoying the small things. She helped you remember that it was the summer nights and the winter mornings. It was the game nights and the savory potstickers. It was being alive for the next hug or looking forward to the movies. It was the small stuff, the things that we all took for granted because we’re programmed into thinking that we’re alive for some grand cosmic purpose. Sometimes being alive is just that: to live. The world needed more people like her, to fill it with warmth and love. Kara needed to stay alive, and you made up your mind to heal her, raising your hand above her body and watching it as it glowed white.
“Please don’t,” she begged, but you shushed her gently.
“Stay still.”
Your power blasted her, a jet stream of pure white energy healing her from the inside. Slowly you could feel her agony transfer to you, and you watched as the green in her veins started to dissipate while it simultaneously started to assault your body. You watched as the kryptonite started at your fingertips, and spread throughout your arm, searing through muscle and bone. The moment it hit your chest, you cried out, the pain more intense than you could ever imagine. When Kara said it felt like needles in her veins, she wasn’t lying. It was like being ripped apart from the inside, and you had to concentrate hard to keep going. It felt like days as this happened. You were forcing your eyes to stay open, forcing yourself to stay conscious just long enough to heal her, and when it did happen, Kara gasped, sitting up abruptly and looking at you. You cried out, your body buckling and if it wasn’t Kara who caught you, you would have hit the street. She was crying, her blue eyes twinkling as panicked tears left tracks down her cheeks.
“Why did you do that?!” she demanded.
You couldn’t answer. Every heartbeat was like broken glass in your veins, and you groaned as they throbbed under your skin. Kara sniffled, her expression turning from panic to determination as she lay you down, and she got up to face the Children of Liberty. She would end this, and she will do it for you. The gust of wind you felt signified her powered disappearance into the fight, and you’re left staring at the night sky, fighting for every breath you took.
They were beautiful, like tiny little Christmas lights in the sky, and as everything went numb you smiled as you gasped once more, relishing in the fact that you did get a chance to enjoy the twilight heavens above you.
*** You woke up slowly to still lying on your back. Was the fight over? Were you dead? Your senses were slow to come to you, and when you cracked open your eyes, a bright light blinded you. You groaned and squeezed your eyes closed again as tears escaped your eyes.
“Hold on,” a soft voice came. The lights dimmed and you opened your eyes again to see Kara sitting beside you.
You were in the DEO med bay, with an oxygen mask, IV, and a heart monitor all hooked up to you. You took a deep breath, wincing slightly at the dull throb in your chest that it illicit, and remembered how it was you got here. You watched, groggily, as Kara looked at you with an eyebrow raised.
“What you did was incredibly scary,” she whispered. She reached over to hold your hand and you held it back. Her touch was infinitely soft and strong, and you let it ground you. With your other hand, you reached up and pulled down the oxygen mask.
“I know.”
“And you shouldn’t have done it.”
“But I did,” you replied. Kara nodded.
“Thank you.”
Kara was so selfless, and she wouldn’t understand why you did what you did. To her, she would die a thousand times over before she let anyone put themselves in danger for her. That was the true beauty of Kara, her nobleness and her sacrifice. At times it was admirable, and at other times it was annoying, but at the end of the day it all worked out. So, you accepted her gratitude knowing that if it happened all over again, you wouldn’t change a thing.
The comfortable silence that settled between you and Kara was interrupted by the rest of the superfriends coming into your room. With them they brought, smiles and laughter, flowers and food, and you watched them, silently thanking whatever was listening that they were in your life. Alex came to your side and sighed.
“Thank you,” she said. “For saving my sister. For saving all of us.”
She had a split lip and a dark, purple bruise marring the smooth complexion of her cheek, but otherwise she was fine and in one piece.
“You’re welcome.”
After that, there were no more words. Just joyful laughter and the sounds of everyone stuffing their faces. After all this time, you found something worth dying for, and it was your friends. It was all the people that surrounded you and loved you with everything that they had.  
84 notes · View notes
izzyaro · 3 years
Text
Another Emily and Clyde thing, because I love them.
-
“Would you like to talk about it?”
Emily started, and blinked up. “I’m sorry?” Clyde raised an eyebrow, and she felt her cheeks heat up. “Sorry. I was distracted.”
“Yes, I gathered that.” He cocked his head to one side, blue eyes appearing closer to grey in the bar’s lighting. “Are you all right?”
“Oh, yeah,” said Emily. “It’s nothing serious.” She paused, but it wasn’t really anything private, and Clyde might actually be able to help. “It’s my dad’s birthday next week,” she said. “And I have no idea what to get him.”
Clyde hummed. “I see.” He traced the rim of his whiskey with a finger. “What would you normally do?”
Emily shrugged. “Tickets to the ballet, or theatre. Opera sometimes too, or books, but this is a big one and it feels like I should do more.”
Clyde nodded slowly. His fingers drummed on the table for a moment, before he looked back up. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about your father before.”
“That’s because there’s not much to talk about,” said Emily dryly. “We get on all right,” she added, when Clyde frowned, “but he was always more interested in his work than children.”
Clyde grimaced, but was kind enough not to show any pity. Emily pushed aside the old thoughts about whether a disinterested parent was better or worse than an interfering one, and shrugged.
“It’s better now, but we’re never going to be close.”
“I’m sorry,” said Clyde quietly. His eyes met hers for a moment before he continued, “If you don’t mind a suggestion, the London Proms are coming up. If he enjoys live concerts, and is able to get there, it could be an option.”
Warmth flooded Emily’s chest, and she smiled at him. “I’ll look into it. Thanks.”
Clyde sat back in his chair with a nod, and Emily let out a breath. She would take dealing with international terrorists over her parents any day of the week. Clyde was one of the few people who could understand that.
Although…
“You know, I’ve never heard you talk about your father either.”
Clyde froze with his glass halfway to his lips. His face went completely blank, and Emily swallowed. She was on the verge of apologising when Clyde shook himself.
“That’s because I’d have even less to talk about. He died when I was four.”
Emily’s stomach clenched. Clyde set the glass down without taking a drink, his face still expressionless. “I don’t remember him, and my mother never talked about him.”
That part wasn’t the least bit surprising, but Emily forced down the familiar spike of anger. “I’m sorry,” she said.
Clyde blinked, and his expression softened slightly. “It was a long time ago,” he said quietly. “Sometimes I wish I’d known him, but…”
He trailed off with a shrug. Emily knew he wanted to change the subject, knew neither of them liked talking about their families, but the fury coiling in her gut, at his parents and hers and everyone else who had failed them, overcame her self-control.
“She really never said anything?”
She was unprepared for Clyde’s face to twist into a bitter smile. “Why would she waste any more of her valuable time and energy on a pathetic lapse in judgement who had the audacity to blow his own brains out?”
Emily’s breath caught in her throat. She stared in horror at Clyde, whose face abruptly drained of colour. He opened his mouth, then closed it, and finally let out a shaky breath.
“I’m sorry,” he said. His voice was surprisingly calm, but Emily saw his hands shaking before he folded them across his chest. “I didn’t… I shouldn’t have said that.”
Emily snapped out of her daze and shook her head fiercely. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
“You didn’t know,” said Clyde quietly.
He slowly straightened up, but didn’t meet her gaze. Emily chewed on her lip, and spared a moment to wish Tsia was with her, before shaking that thought away. She hesitated, but she couldn’t exactly make matters worse and she had to try.
“Clyde, if you ever do want to talk, I’ll listen.”
Clyde stilled. His jaw clenched, and Emily readied herself for a comment about minding her own business, but instead Clyde just looked away. “One day I might take you up on that.”
Emily nodded, and before she could say anything else Clyde shook his head. “I think I’ve ruined the evening,” he said abruptly. “My apologies.”
“Don’t do that,” said Emily softly. “I started it. Besides,” she added, when Clyde’s frown deepened. “Their wine selection sucks.”
Clyde huffed out a startled laugh, and Emily seized her chance. “Want to get out of here and go watch a movie?”
“If you suggest Titanic I will shoot you,” said Clyde, but his shoulders relaxed, and Emily let out a breath.
“I was thinking some stupid action thing so you can tell me how bad the stunts are.”
“Last time I did that you asked Tsia to throw me out the window,” Clyde reminded her.
His hands were as steady as ever as he reached for his scarf, and Emily managed a more genuine smile. “Yeah, I guess I can deal with it this once.”
Clyde shook his head, but a slight smile was playing about his lips. He shrugged on his coat, then paused. “Thank you, Emily.”
Emily bumped his shoulder with hers. “Any time. And I meant it, you know.”
“I know,” said Clyde softly. His eyes were clear as they met hers. “And likewise.”
Affection flooded Emily’s chest. She leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. Clyde blinked down at her, and she shrugged. “You don’t like hugs.”
Clyde stared, then a rare soft smile lit his face. “Not usually,” he said.
That was all Emily needed. She pulled him into a tight hug, and Clyde only froze for a second before he hugged her back.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
Emily closed her eyes. “You don’t ever have to thank me for that.”
She heard Clyde’s breath hitch at having his own words echoed back to him, and hugged him tighter. The last embers of anger faded to resolve. Their birth families might have failed them, but they wouldn’t fail each other.
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corvidkingden · 3 years
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Hello it is me the Panda asking for some good good Promptis idiots in love
Promptis, idiots in love?
Got it. How about a first kiss that almost didn't happen? [Read it on ao3]
--
“Noct, I swear if you don’t get your ass up here,” Prompto called down to him from where he was perched rather precariously on the edge of the cliff overlooking their camp. It wasn’t particularly high, high enough to give them a bit of space from Gladio and Ignis, but low enough that Prompto felt capable of scaling it on his own. Just barely so though, any higher and he would not be up there, he was a disaster walking and he knew it. It was a miracle he’d made it up without any scrapes as it was. Grinning widely he leaned forward just enough to peer down at Noctis as he stood at the base of the cliff, looking up at him silently judging for not just asking to be warped up.
“Yeah yeah, I’m comin’, someone’s gotta make sure you don’t fall off,” he huffed out, taking a few steps back for a better vantage before warping up beside him. It was a far more graceful approach than the blonde’s awkward clamoring up the side of the rocky wall. Which he most definitely watched him do but was pretending he didn’t for now. He’d tease him later for the number of times he stopped to give himself a pep talk.
“So what’s so important-woo!” Noctis yelped in surprise at suddenly being dragged down by the surprisingly strong blonde, his heart rate spiking as he teetered over the edge, but Prompto held a firm grip on him. He had half a mind to chew him out for being so reckless, even if he could have easily warped out of falling, but the moment he planted himself next to him what little anger that fueled the urge faded. The unabashed joy he saw on that freckled face, lit up with a grin, was all it took to melt it away.
He made it so hard to be mad at him.
“Look,” Prompto answered, nudging his shoulder with his own as he gestured up at the sky, turning Noct’s attention away from him for now. He probably could have kept staring at that grin all night otherwise.
The sun was slowly setting on the horizon, dipping low between the trees in the distance, still painting the land in golds and pinks where it shone through them. But the highest point of the sky was now a deep blue black, stars twinkling overhead. It was beautiful for sure, but it was hardly their first night under the stars. So what made this one so special? “What am I looking at?”
“You have no eye, I swear, come here,” the crownsguard huffed in exasperation, hooking his arm around his neck and dragging him in closer as he pointed straight ahead. “Look again.”
Noctis was momentarily distracted though, focused more on how close they were than where Prompto was trying to get him to look. All he could think about was his warmth, his smile, how he could see every tiny little freckle, even the palest ones that dusted his cheeks. How easy it would be to lean in and kiss across them and watch those cheeks turn pink. But he forced himself to look ahead, catching sight of what Prompto was pointing out just in time. A small shooting star danced across the sky in an arc of light, making him gasp softly. “Oh shit…”
“See? Told you,” Prompto murmured, in awe of the sight himself, watching the shooting star disappear into the black blanket of the night sky. His arm stayed hooked around Noctis as they both watched more slowly light up the expanse of darkness, turning the void into a shimmering pool of light.
It was beautiful, peaceful, a much needed moment of serenity after everything that had happened already and...well everything they still had to prepare for. They could hear Ignis and Gladio talking below while they prepared dinner, the tent long since set up. Insects and frogs chirped in the distance, the world falling asleep around them and falling away entirely as they both drifted and were lost in the moment.
Without thinking, Prompto looked over at Noctis as the meteors started to dwindle, growing fewer and less frequent, about to make a snide remark about him trusting him next time. But his words caught in his throat. He could see the reflection of them in his blue eyes, the small smile that curled on his lips as he’d fully relaxed for the first time in weeks. He was even more beautiful than the night sky above and all the man could do was stare in silent awe.
Feeling his gaze on him, Noctis turned to ask him why he wasn’t looking but he never got to get the words out, their noses brushing from the proximity, a tension settling between them so suddenly it almost seemed to knock the wind from them both. It wasn’t new, it was something that had always been there between them but they both tried so desperately to ignore it. It was never the right time, never the right place. Neither of them could seem to drum up the guts to admit to the feelings overwhelming them, completely unaware that the other felt the same.
The air between them felt heavy, hot, a spark of static tingling across their skin as they were caught frozen in limbo. Who would move first, would either of them even do it? Would this finally be the moment to break their resolve or would it soon be catalogued as another too little, too late. Noctis could hardly think past the sound of his own heart thumping heavy in his chest, dulling out the sound of anything else.
Just as he thought maybe, maybe he could do it, maybe now was the time to swallow his nerves and seize it, they were interrupted. “Dinner is ready,” Ignis’ voice carried up to them from below, unaware of the moment he’d just cut into so abruptly. “You’d do well to come down anyway, you’re not in range of the runes and daemons should be coming out any moment. I’d really rather not have to spend another night listening to an Iron Giant lurking outside our camp please.”
“Right-right, sorry, Iggy. We’re coming,” Prompto called back, stumbling over his words as he quickly let go of Noctis, pulling away to try and find his own air to breathe and gather his thoughts again. They’d been so close, he’d been only moments away from ruining everything by closing what little space had been left between them. Ignis calling out was a blessing and he didn’t even know it. He was flushed so thoroughly that he felt feverish, his heart was practically trying to break out of his chest the way it was beating so hard and his stomach was twisting so painfully he wasn’t sure he’d even be able to eat dinner. But he needed to get down there and regain control over this. He’d gone this long keeping his crush a secret he was not going to let it slip now.
Noctis cleared his throat awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked down at the two men below already plating up their meals. He knew he should say something, even if the moment was ruined, because that was the closest they’d ever been and who knew when it would happen again. If it would happen again. He needed to tell Prompto before they left for Altissia and he might have just lost his chance. “I uh…”
“Thanks for coming up and watching them with me,” Prompto cut him off, that brilliant smile gracing his face again, though Noctis could see the hesitation and worry in his eyes. He knew him too well to fall for that grin, even if it did make him feel a bit warm and more than a little fuzzy inside.
“Yeah, yeah of course...surprised you didn’t get any pictures,” he smiled back, laughing slightly, hoping he could ease the awkwardness that had settled between them by sparking up another conversation instead of simply warping away. It seemed to work because Prompto truly lit up almost instantly, hopping up off the ledge.
“Actually, I did! I had my camera on the tripod getting some long exposures,” he grinned widely gesturing behind them, earning a laugh from the prince when he saw it. “Two steps ahead of you bud.”
“Always are,” Noct shook his head, eyes shining with mirth as he gazed at his best friend for a moment. He wanted nothing more than to just drag him right back in and fully close that space between them, to finally feel those soft lips against his own.
Prompto floundered silently under his gaze, looking back at him, feeling frozen in place as he tried to read what he saw in those eyes. As he tried to fight his own desire to scurry back over and lean in to kiss him too.
“If you’re much longer, Gladio may come up and drag the two of you down here himself,” Ignis called again, completely ruining the moment once more. Prompto saw it as a blessing, saving him from potentially making a horrible decision, but Noctis wanted to warp down and smack him for cock blocking him twice now. Kiss blocking? That just sounds weird.
“Coming!” Prompto called, snatching his camera off the tripod and tucking it away in his pocket again, tossing the tripod back into the armiger in one smooth motion. Marching back over to the ledge he eyed it a bit skeptical, trying to figure out the best way to scale back down the side of the cliff. Climbing up it had been so much easier, though it helped that he hadn’t looked down the whole time.
Seeing the nervous look on his face, Noctis saw an opportunity, hooking an arm around his middle and pulling him in close. “I got ya,” he said, though it had sounded way more suave in his mind. But he didn’t give it time to ruminate, warping the two of them back down into the camp below in a spark of blue light.
When they landed, dizzy and warm and full of adrenaline, they forgot that they weren’t alone for a moment. Pressed close as they were, chest to chest, Noct’s arm still wound tight around Prompto’s waist to keep him safe, it was like something straight out the movies. It would be so easy, so perfect, to just close that gap.
Noct could feel his nerves quickly dwindling under the weight of how much he wanted to just kiss him already, overpowered by the build up of years and years of denying himself. He wondered if Prompto felt the same, the way he could feel his heart racing said yes but the kid was shakier than a chihuahua, it could mean anything.
“You two need a room?” Gladio taunted as he made his way over to help Ignis pass out the plates, an all too amused grin spreading across his lips as he took in the sight of them huddled so close. He and Ignis had been able to read the tension between them from the start, but at this point it was so palpable it was unbearable. They’d both had half a mind to just shove them together themselves. But Ignis insisted that if it were to happen to let it happen at it’s own pace.
“Shouldn’t you be doin’ push ups or something?” Noctis shot back at him, and if looks could kill Gladio would be dead where he stood. Much as he wanted to do this, he wanted to be the one to tell Prompto how he felt, not Gladio and his big mouth. Letting go of the blonde in question, he didn’t notice that the boy looked ready to burst; he was so red. Slipping away from him he took one of the offered plates and planted himself down in one of the chairs to eat.
They eventually all settled in, no one daring to bring up what had just happened, though Prompto was uncharacteristically quiet through dinner. Noct kept looking his way hoping to catch his eye, trying to pull him into the conversation but Prompto was thoroughly distracted it seemed. Maybe he was reading the signs all wrong? He felt his stomach twist nervously at the thought, what if he’d made him uncomfortable?
He was entirely unaware that Prompto was just trying to figure out the very same. His mind was reeling, flip flopping frantically between imagining those lips against his and the thought of him pushing him away. Maybe he was wrong and Noct wasn’t trying to kiss him, maybe he was just trying to be nice and not flat out reject him.
But if he did want to, what did that mean for them? Was it even worth pursuing at this point? He was supposed to get married soon, that was the whole reason they were out here in the first place. Astrals, this was too confusing, it was so much easier when he thought his crush was entirely one sided.
Ignis and Gladio were all too aware of the tension between them, they’d seen it coming a mile away and if either of them were asked, they’d say they were surprised it took this long for it to finally happen. When neither Noctis nor Prompto seemed to be paying attention to what was going on the two older men got up to clean off their plates and clear away what was out from making dinner, giving the boys a moment with their backs turned.
It took a second, but Noctis realized the pointed departure, watching them to be sure he wasn’t misreading it before stretching his leg out to nudge Prompto’s boot. “Hey…”
“Hm?” Prompto quickly lifted his head, flushing slightly at being caught completely zoned out.
“Can we...talk?”
“Oh-uh yeah-yeah sure,” he nodded, brow furrowing immediately with worry. This was it, this was where he’d tell him off, turn him away. At least he’d been preparing for this for a long time, he was ready for it. At the end of the day he was just happy to be his friend after all.
Noctis stood then, a bit solemnly seeing the way Prompto’s face turned. He’d definitely made him uncomfortable it seemed, so at least this way he could apologize with a bit of privacy. Leaving his plate by his seat, he offered Prompto a hand up, tugging the blonde from his chair once he set his own plate down.
They walked to the far edge of camp, putting more distance between them and the older men, sitting on the edge of the rune lined space they both kicked their legs, an awkward silence settling between them. It was the polar opposite of the peaceful quiet they’d had up on the cliff, making them both want to scream just to break it.
“Noct, I…”
“Let me,” Noctis said, patting his knee gently, leaving his hand there as he turned to look at him. He could feel that lump swelling in his throat again, stomach twisting anxiously but he knew he needed to do this before he lost the chance again. “You...you’re my best friend, you know that right?”
“Yeah, buddy,” Prompto nodded, shifting to face him more as his stomach dropped heavily like lead. Rejection he could deal with, but was he about to say he didn’t want to be friends anymore either? “Of course, forever right?”
“Forever,” the prince nodded, looking into those lilac eyes and seeing the worry in them. Maybe that wasn’t the way to start this off, he opened his mouth to speak again but stopped lost on what else to say that wouldn’t simply make it worse.
“...Noct, it’s-it’s okay,” Prompto reached out, taking his hand. “I understand, you don’t have to say it. I made you uncomfortable and I know I shouldn’t have, it really wasn’t my intention. But I still want to be friends with you, I don’t want to lose that-that’s so much more important to me.”
“No, Prom, wait--” Noctis tried to interject as he watched him fall into one of his flustered tangents. They were endearing, but he was going to dig a hole for the both of them with this one.
“Honestly, I knew I was okay with it a long time ago, and I’m sorry I made it weird earlier. I really promise I wasn’t trying to. I just get so in my head sometimes and I don’t think about what I’m doing or-or what I’m saying--”
“Prompto,” he groaned.
“I just want to make sure you know I’m not gonna be upset, I get it, I’m not goin’ anywhere--”
Noctis cupped his cheeks and pulled him in, shutting him up with the crash of his lips against his, feeling him tense at first before melting right into the kiss. Pushing his fingers back into his soft blonde hair, he pulled him closer, shifting so their noses weren’t pushed together so uncomfortably. Feeling Prom’s fingers curl into the front of his shirt and tighten only made his heart leap though. This was it, it was happening.
They kissed until they were breathless, until it felt like the world was spinning faster and yet somehow frozen all at once, pulling away only because their lungs begged it of them. Their foreheads still pressed together, Noct let his hands slide down to the sides of his neck, simply holding him there as their breathing mingled, steadying despite the frantic patter of their hearts.
“You’ve really gotta let me speak next time,” Noctis murmured, grinning as a giddy laugh bubbled up out of Prompto.
“Shut up,” he huffed in mock exasperation, pulling him right back in and kissing him again, feeling every ounce of worry fall away from his shoulders.
It wasn’t what either of them had pictured, but it was special nonetheless. Sat underneath the stars, far away from any of their problems, they lost themselves in one another for what brief moment the gods would grant.
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