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generallybarzy · 3 years

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smile like sunshine vi

Thursday: ~ 9.2k words

previous chapters: i // ii // iii // iv // v

an: writing this was tough on me. I’ve obviously been through a lot of ups and downs while trying to write this, considering it took like 4 months to finish. Continuously losing inspiration and motivation and hitting writer’s block too many times was tough. The chapters keep getting longer and I feel like there are less and less notes everytime. It hurts to see my favorite fic do so poorly, so I've been hesitating to post this. But it’s finally here, and there are only 2 chapters left. Now, let’s see how few notes this gets. Thank you to my beautiful amazing editor/bestie @folkloreflyers I couldn't have done this without you bb 🥰💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

tagging some beautiful people: @sunflowertimothee @deleausvp @dunnwithlyfe @smit41 @softboybarzal @fallinallincurls @matbaerzal @brokeninsidebutnobodyknows @hockeyhughes11 @folkloreflyers @nazdaddy @shawnsreputation

summary: after everything that happened last night, Mat and Y/N realize they probably need some time apart to regroup with their thoughts and emotions and prevent themselves from pushing the boundaries of their friendship so far that they’d never return to normal. It’s 2019, eleven years after you first befriended him, and things are definitely different this time around...

If there was ever a time when you wanted to slip away into the memory of what you once had with Mathew: an amazing friendship, not overshadowed or blurred by stupid hormones and growing feelings, it was now.

It was almost tragic to think about how you’d lost all that time and could never go back to the days when you were completely carefree and nothing could bring you down. Those hot, summer days with Mat when watermelon juice and sticky, sugary ice pops dripped down your hands, and your faces were burnt in the sun were long gone. You’d never be like that again. No matter how often you dreamt of it, thought of it, and buried yourself in memories of that summer to block out the worries of adult life, you couldn’t get it back.

The sun was going down on your second to last night at the beach, as you sat by Mat in the sand, giggling as the water lapped at your toes and digging up handfuls of the tiny coquina clams burrowing in the sand- not that you knew what they were called, but did it matter? Your parents sat further back onshore, talking around a fire and watching the younger children, and you and Mat, like always, were left to entertain yourselves. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. No, you loved spending time with him.

You didn’t realize that your time with Mat was coming to an end. You weren’t sure what day of the week it was, where you were, or when you were leaving, but that didn’t matter. Not then.

“Are you having fun with Mat?” Your mom had asked you earlier in the day.

“Yeah, he’s my best friend!”

“Well,” Your mom laughed. “Why don’t you go have some more fun with him. Cherish your time, we won't be here forever.”

You didn't quite understand the weight of her words, but cherish him, you did. The two of you were attached at the hip, to both your parent's amusement, and after only a week of friendship now, your parents could hardly separate you two.

“Ugh, younger siblings are so annoying." You groaned in agreement to Mat's statement and fell back in the sand when you looked back and saw your baby siblings sucking up all your parents’ attention.

"Yeah, 'cause they're smaller and cuter than us."

"No, that's not true!” Mat shook his head, dark hair flopping around in the breeze, hazel eyes wide. “You're still pretty cute."

"Ewwww, Mat!"

"So am I, my nonna told me!" You laughed at him. Only a week into knowing each other and he could already make you laugh better than any of your friends at school. "So that's not it."

"Well, they always have all the attention. I'm so bored and lonely sometimes."

"Nuh-uh, you have me. I'm always here to hang out!" He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, his small, sand-covered arms, and neither of you noticed both of your parents watching from the campfire. As wise as they were, they knew that if you had been a few years older, this would’ve been too much for them to handle. And little did you and Mat know, at only ten and eleven years old, but you were about to be separated for eleven years.

“Friends forever?”

“Forever! I’ll always be here!”

“Promise?” You stuck out your pinky, and Mat linked it happily with his own, smiling that gleaming smile.

“Promise.”

You had fucked up something amazing.

You woke up early with a pounding headache right as the sun began to beam in through your window, hitting your face in the worst possible way. You’d never so hated the sound of the ocean, but right now, it was just… too much. Too loud. For the first time since you had arrived at the beach, you didn’t wake up smiling and excited to be here, but instead dizzy and confused, questioning what had happened last night, and filled with dread at the thought of having to face the day. And, when you realized what you’d done in your drunken stupor, regret immediately began gnawing away at your mind.

You had fucked up bad.

You buried your face under your pillows to try and drown out the pounding noises in your ears as the image of yourself flooded to your brain, absolutely wasted and stumbling, pushing your body into his, pushing your mouth onto Mat’s and kissing him. It was drunken, messy, and definitely not the way you'd imagined many, many times, your first kiss with him to be. It wasn't magical and beautiful and gentle and sweet, but drunk and sloppy and one-sided. Unreciprocated. You couldn't stop thinking about his reaction. He hadn’t kissed you back, his hands didn’t cup your face gently and pull you flush against his warm body the way you imagined, but instead pushed you away and held you between his arms and looked at you. He hadn’t even smiled or laughed and brushed it off afterward. He must have been disgusted with your actions, he must have wanted to yell at you, ask “What are you doing?” but understood that you were drunk and settled for pushing you away. He'd confront you today, tell you that he couldn't look at you the same way after what happened, tell you that he no longer wanted to be friends. That when you’d get back to New York, you would never speak to each other again.

Fuck.

“(YN)!” The pounding on your door made you cringe and groan. Well, it might not have been pounding, but it certainly sounded like it, as your head throbbed in agitation. “Wake up honey!”

You groaned and rolled over in bed.

She cracked the door open as quietly as possible, showing a little bit of sympathy, which you were thankful for. “Hungover?” Your groan was enough of a response for her. “You’re not gonna get better lying in here, come out.” When you still didn’t answer, she continued. “I’ll be louder next time I have to come in to get you.” And then she left you to drag yourself out of your lethargic state.

Well, fuck, you thought as you cast a glance out the window where the sun was rising over the ocean, might as well get up and face the day, no point in hiding. You needed to get some fresh air, maybe some alone time on the beach before Mat gets up. You needed to talk to someone about what happened, you couldn’t keep this to yourself, but who would you tell? Not your mom, no one in your family actually. Sure, you were close, but you weren’t gonna tell them about your drunken mistake- how you kissed your best friend. Best friend. Your best friend- all the way back in New York City, who always helped get you out there, was the reason you ever reconnected with Mat in the first place, and would definitely be your maid of honor in the future- would definitely want to know about your kiss with Mat Barzal.

“Amy…”

You reached over to the bedside table for your phone and the first thing you noticed, after pressing the power button, was an unread text from none other than Mat Barzal, sent at 1:38 am, probably when you got home last night:

Maty: Hope you don’t feel too bad when you wake up.

It was strange, it was unlike him to leave such a message. Yeah, he always checked in and texted you saying he hopes you’re feeling good, but there was no “sleep tight” or anything funny or cute and not even a smiley emoji like usual. Well, in his defense, you had just kissed him. Of course, he’d feel weird around you.

You sent a quick text to Amy, who you hadn’t spoken to since the beginning of the trip now, and who must have been dying to know anything that happened between you and Mat. She would probably be happy you kissed him, bless her heart, she was in love with your friendship with Mat and the story of how you came to meet, but you needed someone to listen seriously to your problem and help you.

It’d be at least another hour until Mat gets up, you guessed, so, with much hesitation, you dragged yourself out of bed and to the bathroom where you steadied yourself on the sink as your head spun, washed your face, and caught a glance of yourself in the mirror, running a hand through your hair to smooth it down before opening your door to face the day.

The first thing you noticed, even in your state, was the smell of coffee and breakfast from the kitchen. Usually, you loved that scent, but today it made you want to puke, and as you sat down at the island in the kitchen, you dropped your head into your arms and groaned.

“Rough night?”

“Pretty bad.”

The sound of a water bottle being set down in front of you was much louder than it should’ve been. “Drink, it’ll make you feel better.” You took a sip of water and laid down on your arms again, going back to suffering in silence and wracking your head over trying to figure out any possible way out of this sticky situation. “What else is wrong?” You looked up to where your mom was making knowing eyes in your direction. You were close to your mom, sure, you thought you had a pretty good relationship with her, but you were positive you didn’t want to tell her what you had done last night. At least, not now. You knew the news would eventually get to your dad, and you couldn’t imagine what would happen if he found out.

Hopefully staying pretty ambiguous would save you. “I think Mat’s mad at me.”

“I doubt it. The boy adores you.” You wanted to tell her no, that’s gross, you’re only friends, but something made you stop. Mat did adore you. He was always there for you, he was the greatest friend ever, and how do you repay him? By kissing him and screwing up both of your feelings? “What makes you think he’s mad?”

“I think I did something stupid last night. Said something dumb when I was drunk. And he sent me a text before bed last night that didn't sound like how he usually does.”

“Well, you won’t know until you talk to him. It won’t be any good to ignore him for the rest of the trip” Fuck, why did her advice have to be good words of wisdom?

A door rattled open from down the hall and there was Mat, rubbing his face, his hair falling into his eyes, as he crossed the hallway into the bathroom. He cast a glance to the kitchen, locking eyes with you for half a second before he was gone.

You knew he’d be getting up now, so, grabbing your water bottle and phone, you made your way to the back door to avoid any alone time with him. “I’m gonna get some fresh air.” And you headed out the back door and down onto the beach.

Amy had texted you back by now, telling you to call her right away, and you took the moment to reflect, walking down to the water’s edge and just looking out. The early morning heat was cooling down, the sun had barely risen and already dark clouds were rolling in from the horizon, the rain was coming, maybe even a storm in the next hour or so. Sure, you may have made your friendship awkward, but for now, you’re still friends. At least until he comes out to confront you. So until then, you were gonna be proud. You had kissed him. His lips were just as soft and nice as you expected them to be, and his face pressed against yours was something you could get used to. Unfortunately, that scenario was unlikely.

Your heart raced when you started connecting the video call, and you couldn’t help a smile from spreading over your face for the first time all morning. Yesterday, besides the mistake you’d made, was easily one of the best days of your life. Mat took you out to the pier because he remembered you loved it when you were younger, he remembered he promised to teach you to skate, he even remembered your favorite ice cream flavor. And, despite how much you regretted kissing him, you had kissed him. You had kissed Mat. God, Amy is gonna be fucking ecstatic for you.

“Haven’t heard from you in a while.”

“Ames, I’m sorry for not calling sooner-”

“Are you kidding?” She laughed, always a welcome sound, and you knew she wasn’t upset. “You’re on vacation with Mat fucking Barzal. But now that I have you for a few minutes, girl, spill. All. The. Details. Now.”

“Yeah,” You laughed at her words. All the details? “He took me out to the pier yesterday for my birthday. We roller-skated together and held hands.”

“Oh my god, seriously? That’s so fucking cute!” You winced at the way she shrieked in joy for you, your head still pounding as you tried to overcome the hangover. Amy immediately noticed your change and lowered her voice. “Girl, are you hungover?”

“You tell me. I’m twenty-one now, aren’t I?” Before she could start talking again, you continued, figuring it would be easier to just get all your words out there and over with. Rip off the bandaid. “Actually, I did something really bad last night. When I was drunk.”

“Oh shit. Spill!”

“I…” You couldn’t help the small smile on your face. As much as you hated the realistic part of this, you were still overjoyed it had happened. You shook your head and pushed on. “I kissed Mat.”

It was almost comical how your friend’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened. It almost made you laugh, it had a little smile pulling at your face. Holy shit, it was still sinking in that you’d kissed Mat. “Oh… my god. You kissed Mat. You kissed Mat Barzal. How was it?”

“Well, messy. I was drunk, he didn’t kiss back at all. But focus on the realistic part, Ames. I made it awkward.”

“Oooh…”

“How are we gonna be friends after this? He’s gonna hate me, he’s gonna wanna leave, he’s never gonna want to talk to me again. He must think I’m so dumb-”

“Babe, listen, he doesn’t think any of that. He’s head over heels for you. If not in love, then in platonic love at least.”

“Now you’re sounding like my mom.”

“I hate to say it, but I actually agree with her then.” You sighed. As much as you wanted to listen to them, maybe the realistic side of your brain was just too powerful. “Mat has done stupid things around you when he was drunk. Remember the karaoke night? He was so fucking embarrassed in the morning.”

“Yeah, but he never kissed me.” He never kissed you, not once. Not even when you desperately wanted him to, when he was drunk or Christmas Eve, or New Years’, or his birthday, not even when you practically created chances to get close to him, not even when you kissed him. No matter how much you wanted it, life isn’t a love song. “Look, things don’t just work out like in romance novels. Some things don’t get to last beyond one summer. Sometimes this shit just doesn’t happen. Sometimes it’s just a feeling.”

“It’s only a feeling ‘til you make it more.”

“Shut uuuup. He hasn’t spoken to me since then. He’s obviously upset.”

“Have you tried to talk with him?”

“I mean…”

“So you haven’t. C’mon, you gotta at least ask him about it.”

“Okay, but if I ask him how he feels he might say he doesn’t want to be friends. If I avoid him completely, he can’t break off the friendship, right?” Before she could respond, you rambled on, maybe to her, maybe just to yourself. Sometimes it’s good to just talk yourself out of something. “We’ve become such good friends in the last year and I really don’t want to lose him because of something stupid that I did while drunk. I feel like I messed everything up.”

“Babe, babe. You didn’t mess anything up.” Ames smiled at you over the phone as thunder rumbled in the distance. “This isn’t gonna drive him away, okay? He’s in too deep already. Trust me.”

“Alright, we’ll see.”

And you would see. But now, you had to go to the porch, already feeling raindrops drip from the looming clouds above. The storm was rolling in. And it was coming fast.

------------

Even before Mat’s eyes opened that morning, his mind was racing.

He rolled onto his side in bed, eyeing the pillow he had been hugging against him all night. It was as if he was a child who needed a teddy bear to fall asleep, and he hated how vulnerable you made him feel. But rather, you were his teddy bear and after that night in the motel, he couldn’t sleep without some sort of faux version of you that would never compare. Not to your warmth, your softness, your heartbeat against his chest, the soft sighs of breath against his neck. You had messed him up bad. You had kissed him, and it’s unnecessary to think it needs explaining why he was so confused. “I had a dream about you last night. We were really goin’ at it. You were really good, like, really good.” What had you meant by it? Was it just a dumb mistake? Or is what they say true: “Drunk words are sober thoughts”? The moment your lips touched his last night, he was flooded with serotonin. It was… well, maybe not perfect, but more than he could ever hope for. More than he thought he would ever get.

He wanted it so bad, he wanted it for months now, but he wanted it sober. He wanted you to know what you were doing. He wanted you to mean it. He didn’t want it like last night.

He pushed himself up, hearing the muffled conversation from the kitchen. He knew it was you and your mom, and, though he couldn’t hear any clear words, he couldn’t help but realize that the conversation had to be about him, and for a moment he was strangely self-conscious. It was an unfamiliar feeling for him, but he was embarrassed, even ashamed he had let anything happen last night.

He shouldn’t have let you get so drunk.

The moment he opened the door and stepped into the hallway, the conversation came to an abrupt stop. He glanced up into the kitchen, where he immediately caught your gaze, noting how much of a wreck you were this morning. He couldn’t help the way he rushed into the bathroom before you could say anything.

He heard you say something about “fresh air” and then the back door opened and closed, he finished up his morning routine and rushed back into his room. He’d barely even sat back down in bed when there was a pounding on his bedroom door that was a lot less than friendly.

“Mathew!”

Your dad was gonna fucking kill him.

It was safe to say he’d never been more afraid as he jumped to his feet and stepped over to the door, debating on pulling out his phone to send a final “Goodbye, I love you” texts to you, his friends, and family. But there didn’t seem to be any time for that, as the pounding on his door increased. Sucking up a deep breath, he opened it and was greeted by the face of your father with crossed arms and a scowl. He could only choke out a terrified “Yes, sir?”, sounding like a pathetic teen boy caught in a girl’s room.

“(Y/N)”s upset.”

"I-"

"I don't know why that is, but something tells me you have something to do with it." Mat went silent, trying to figure out what he could say. You were upset? Were you upset with yourself, or with him? He had stopped your kiss, brought you home, got you water, and tucked you into your bed, what had he done wrong? “She thinks you’re angry at her.”

“Why would I be-?”

“Mathew.” The boy closed his mouth when your father put a hand on his shoulder, pushing him over towards the bed. “Sit.” Mat nodded quickly and sat on the edge of the bed, flattening his hands on his thighs awkwardly and waiting for the lecture to start. “Listen, I don’t know what’s happening between the two of you, but I can see how much you mean to her. I know I shouldn’t be too hard on you, but I just need to make sure you’re going to treat her right.” Mat couldn’t help the smile that lit up his face momentarily. He was in the middle of opening his mouth to say thank you when your father rambled on, eyes narrowed, examining the boy in front of him. “(Y/N) has been hurt a lot in the past, and I’ve tried to help. It’s not my place to mess with her love life anymore. She’s not a baby. But the least I can do is make this right. I still remember what you said on our first day here. You like my daughter?”

He nodded enthusiastically. “I really do. A lot.”

“Good. So then you didn’t mean to hurt her?”

Mat’s head shook frantically, wracking his brain for what he might’ve done. “Absolutely not. I don’t know why she is, I don’t think I did anything wrong.”

“I’ve seen her hurt so many times, and I’m gonna trust that you’ll treat her right. Now, I don’t know what happened between the two of you, and I’m not going to ask. That’s between you two. But she thinks you’re angry, you’re obviously not, and you need to fix it.”

“I know, I promise I will. I’ll make her so happy, I swear to God, I promise you.”

The older man continued to look at his daughter’s friend for a few long, tense seconds, but Mat’s eyes gave everything away with no hesitation. His feelings were genuine, he truly, truly cared. He wasn’t lying. Slowly, he nodded, and Mat’s face lifted in a cautious smile. Was this… approval? Was this your father’s blessing? Your father slapped his hand on Mat’s back. “There’s something else I want to show you. C’mon, Mat.”

-----------

You sat alone on the porch with your little pile of shells, watching the rain pour down beyond the porch, watching the waves continue through the storm, always pushing and pulling despite the circumstances. And as you threaded shell after shell onto your little braided bracelet, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander.

It was the summer of 2015, you were sitting on the passenger side of his dad’s car, the wind in your hair and OMI's 'Cheerleader' playing on the radio. You had just turned 17 and were trying to live your best life on the coast with your new friends, forgetting about any of your responsibilities and just chilling for this trip. You might have been getting involved in the wrong crowd, but you couldn’t care less. You had your friends, you had your newfound teenage freedom, and, most importantly, you had him.

When you first met him, at the beginning of the summer, he was new to your group of friends. But he immediately seemed to take a liking to you.

“You’re different.” He would whisper in your ear as you sat around the campfire with your friends before breaking away from the group to go make out by the cliffs. “There’s just something about you.” He would say as his hands glided over your swimsuit under the water, hidden from your other friends eyes. He knew just the right words to say to have you sinking into him, giving in, And you were stupid to follow him.

In the back of your head, this party was a stupid idea, but it was summer, you were young, he was hot, you had to live your life. What was the worst that could happen?

Kyle was behind the wheel of his dad’s car- maybe he had taken it without his permission, maybe not, who knows?- his beachy blonde waves blowing in the breeze and his blue eyes sparkling behind dark sunglasses. His hand was on your thigh, he was always touching you in some way, but what you didn’t know was that you weren’t his only girl for the summer. He wasn’t trying to hide it, all the signs were there, but you were too carefree to notice.

The car came to a stop and you both jumped out, locking arms around each other before running over to the steamy, crowded party atmosphere.

Really, what was the worst that could happen?

You were sitting there lamenting over your past, nursing a cup of coffee and staring out into the thunder and rain, fidgeting with the object closed in your fist when the door opened down the porch. And when you looked up, of course, you were met by the man himself, wearing a lightweight gray hoodie, the hood pulled up over his dark waves of hair. “Hey Y/N.”

“Mat.”

There was a moment of silence, perhaps for your damaged friendship or perhaps for the growing feelings that neither of you believed were reciprocated, as you both stayed in place, not knowing what to do or say to the right things to make it better. You let the silence, the tension settle uncomfortably between the two of you as the rain pounded as heavily as your hearts. Mat stayed in place where he was standing at the doorway, not wanting to come any closer. Whether it was because he was upset and grossed out or something else, you couldn’t tell, but you needed the silence to end. “Mat, I’m so sorry about last night. I didn’t mean- I was just, I was drunk and I couldn’t think straight-”

“Hey, hey. No big deal.”

“No, it was so uncalled for, I-”

“Hey, (Y/N), I’ve had people kiss me while drunk before.” He gave you a reassuring smile, but something was missing. Something genuine. That sparkle was missing from his eye and the sunshine was missing from his smile.. Something had definitely changed. Something definitely wouldn’t go back to normal. “Seriously. It’s nothing.” He swore. Cross his heart. Something was definitely wrong, but you weren’t going to bring it up. If he was alright with moving past this, so were you. “You don’t have to feel bad at all.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. Friends?” He stuck out his pinky for you.

You smiled at the gesture that threw you back to your childhood and accepted it happily, despite the twinge of guilt and fear in your chest. “Yeah, friends.”

“Good. I’m glad.” Mat smiled, taking a seat next to you, pretending everything was normal. “I like being friends with you.” He was shouting at himself in his head, this is so fake, so forced. But he would rather force the comfort than not have you in his life at all. And then the silence was back.

The silence was painful, filled with unspoken words- words you could never say aloud- and both of you knew. You weren’t sure if the rain was picking up or it had just become so overwhelming between the two of you that you were hyper fixating on the patter patter patter of raindrops against the porch roof. Friends. Friends. If this is what it's like to be Mat's friend, you could only wonder what it would be like to have him as your own, to be his, to hug him and kiss him and protect him and have him do the same to you.

“I, uhhh.” You glanced over to see Mat’s eyes already dead set on you, and you wondered if he had been staring the whole time. You were almost shy as you opened your fist to him. “I finished it.”

“Woah.”

"Yeah, you like it?"

“I love it.” Mat took the bracelet with delicate fingers, as if afraid he was going to break it, and slid it onto his wrist gently. A perfect fit. "It's amazing. You're really talented. Seriously. " His eyes were unbelievably soft as he gazed at the pretty shells you had worked so hard to braid together for him. All for him, from you. “I’ll never take it off.”

"Oh, never?"

"I'm dead serious."

Your heart throbbed in your chest. The idea of him wearing this bracelet you had worked so hard on, even when plagued by the thought that maybe he wouldn't want to be friends at all anymore, just had you so overwhelmed. The idea of him wearing something you made for him, something so personal, as if it was there to constantly remind him of this summer, of you. Like it was a cute inside joke no one else would ever understand, made your heart ache. It was as if you were claiming him, as if he was claiming you as one of his best friends, one of the few people that got a glimpse into his private life. You were special.

“I’m serious.” He repeated. “Honest. I love it.”

“Thank you, Mat.”

His arm fell heavily but gently across your shoulders as he tucked you closer into his body, and something about the weight of it against you was comforting, a reminder that he was still there no matter what and he would always be there no matter what. Mat was resilient, and no matter how much you wanted to push him away, he was here. He was your friend. Forever, and through anything.

"Hey," Mat broke the silence. "I have something for you, too."

"Yeah?"

"Consider it a late birthday gift."

"Mat, you've already gotten me so much-"

"Ah, ah. Your dad actually found these. I'm just presenting them." Before you had a chance to ask or even wonder what it could be, Mat was pulling some flimsy rectangles from his hoodie pocket.

"Are these...?"

"From that summer." Mat finished with a smile, letting you take them from his hands.

"No way."

There in your hands were photographs your parents took of you and Mat, ten and eleven years old. The two of you were standing close, Mat’s arm around your shoulders and squeezing you into his hug, both of your faces lit up with wide smiles. You were so close that summer and you weren’t sure how your parents dealt with the two of you. That picture captured a moment of childish joy and innocence- grinning brightly in mid laughter as you built your final sandcastle of the summer together. LIttle did you know, back then, but the next morning, you’d be leaving, leaving your summer-long friendship behind.

“Look at us.” Mat’s voice was tender, gentle as he leaned in closer and you fingered through the pictures. “I can’t believe we were so small.”

“I can’t believe you still smile the same, Maty.”

He laughed at the nickname that threw him back to that first summer. He quieted down for a few moments as you flipped through the rest of the pictures, his fingers drumming softly on your arm. “I still can’t believe we found each other.”

“I know.”

You could hear your heartbeat pounding against your ribcage as Mat leaned in closer to look at the pictures with you. Your breath hitched in your throat and you stopped suddenly as one picture caught your attention- the family picture taken that year, with both your family and the Barzals posing together as friends. But what really stuck out to you was the way Mat’s face was pressed up against your cheek, in the most innocent, childish kiss you’ve ever seen.

“Wow, look at that.” Mat chuckled a bit through his words, his eyes soft behind you. He didn’t remember kissing you at eleven years old, but seeing that picture brought sparks to his veins and had memories flooding back to his mind. It was you. You hadn’t just been his first crush, but his first kiss as well. “We’ve come pretty far, eh?” Your silence was almost painful to him, and he couldn’t help the way his face fell. Wrong thing to say, wrong thing to say, oh god oh god oh god.

“Yeah, we have.”

He smiled again as your voice filled his ears.

“Do you remember that place, Mat?” His eyes followed your finger as you traced the rocky cliffs in the background of the photo. Oh, did he remember. The little hidden beach, surrounded on three sides by rocky cliffs and sandy dunes and the little ocean inlet shallow and warm and perfect for swimming in, was a beautiful place that immediately brought back memories. You had first found that place on a family walk, and Mat had dared you to jump off the cliffs into the water with him. Of course you didn’t end up jumping, as neither of your parents let you out of their sight.

“It’s our little hideaway.”

“Yeah.” You sat in silence for a moment, in awe that you had such a private little place with him, and noticed how the rain was slowing down. “When it stops raining, do you want to walk there tonight?”

“Absolutely. As much as I love your family, I’ve been dying to spend some time with my girl again.”

My girl. My girl. My girl. Too much?

But the smile on your face reassured him. “I wanna spend more time with you too, Mat.” You threw your arm around his shoulders in an act you thought was sweet, but regretted it and drew back your arm as soon as he let out a sharp hiss. “What’s wrong?”

“Ah, nothing.”

“You’re sunburnt, aren’t you?”

“No, no, it’s not bad.”

“Mat, I told you you’d get burnt!” He was quiet, red faced, and you weren’t sure if all the red was from the burn or embarrassment. “Let me see.”

“I’m fine.”

“Mathew!”

“I promise.” But you stood up, always just as stubborn as him, photographs in hand, and held your hand out to him. He looked up at you, amused. Oh what you did to him.

“Come on. We’ll fix you up, dummy.”

Mat laughed and shook his head before giving in, his palm sliding into yours and following you obediently back into the house.

-------------

The rainclouds had finally cleared, though it was too late in the day to get any sunlight in, and instead the vast blanket of stars were already beginning to twinkle overhead when you and Mathew headed out after the family dinner.

“Mat, look at all the stars tonight!”

“You still love them as much as always, yeah?”

“Of course!”

Mat watched you, adoration evident in his eyes, as you gazed up at the sky in awe. He had to agree. There weren’t stars like this in the city, not even in his hometown. This little oceanfront town didn’t produce enough light to block out the beautiful heavens above. But, his eyes were still fixated on you, on the wonder in your eyes and the way you were so soft and amazing in everything you do. The moon could be falling, for all he cared, there could be a literal alien spaceship in front of them, but all he could see was you. “Beautiful.”

“They look best after it storms, I think.”

“Yeah?” Mat could do nothing but nod along, too lost in his own thoughts to find words to say. He hoped he didn’t seem too boring, but walking there, hand in hand with you and feet in the warm sand, his mind couldn’t help but wander. What if you loved me, (Y/N)?

“I think I wanna be a constellation when I die.”

“That’s-” Mat laughed a bit louder than he meant to at your sudden confession, and stumbled to pull himself back together. “That’s a little grim to talk about, isn’t it?”

“I mean, I just think stars are so pretty, and I’d just love to be twinkling up there, looking down on people. Plus, I’m more of a night person anyway.” You smiled, and Mat’s heart fluttered in his chest. “What about you? If you were reincarnated as something? Maybe… ice? So you could live and die with hockey like you do right now?”

Mat didn’t even need to think for a second, he knew his answer immediately. Stars, stars, I’d lie in the stars with you, spend all eternity by your side. I’d drop hockey, all the wins and the trophies and the attention. I’d drop it all for you. “Yeah, that’d be pretty cool.”

You walked, hand in hand, down the length of the beach, until you could no longer look back and see your house. Until houses no longer speckled the shore, and instead it was just you, Mat, the ocean and the stars, in your own little world. The shore rose beside you, and after walking around a little bend, you were suddenly hidden away in a little sandy inlet, rocky cliffs surrounding you on three sides, and the ocean, gentle and lapping on the other.

“Here it is.”

“Looks the same as when we were young.” Your hand slipped out of his, just for a moment, to pull out your phone. “Smile, Mat.” His face lit up, not in one of the dazzling smiles you remember and loved so much, but a softer, gentler little smirk.

“Before and after pic, huh?”

“Yeah.”

For a few moments, his eyes gleamed in mischief, and you should’ve known what was coming.

“You know what? You still never jumped off the dock at the fishing spot with me. But I can think of something that would be even more fun.” You were about to ask what, but the smirk on his face as he glanced towards the cliffs and raised a hand to motion towards it should’ve told you that nothing innocent was coming. “Remember that dare?”

“Oh my god.” You laughed at the excited look on his face.

“Let’s jump off that rock.”

“Are you the bad influence my parents always warned me about? Who asks if I’ll jump off a bridge with them?”

He laughed, loud and boisterous and bouncing around the sandy dunes and cliffs that hid you away from the rest of the world. “Maybe I am.” And then he stretched his arms above his head and tossed his shirt to the sand, the muscles of his now bare chest and shoulders shining in the pale moonlight, watching with a giddy smile as you looked him over with an incredulous laugh. He took a few strides back towards the rocks, giving you an enticing smirk and luring you out to him like a siren with his song. “So? You coming in or what?” You should’ve turned back right there; you should’ve recognized the signs and listened to your head rather than your heart, your hormones, and turned back to shore and ran, left him here alone instead of stepping over this boundary- scratch that, fucking barrelling through this boundary like it was a race to finish- but you didn’t. You stayed. Worse yet, you stepped towards him, foolishly, blinded by that goddamn stupid smile.

No, no, you really shouldn’t. But you were so fucked for him, for that smile, for that cocky little “gotcha” laugh that he always did when you followed him so blindly, without any hesitation. You were so in love. Fuck it.

“Unfortunately, Maty, I’d follow you anywhere.”

There was a rocky path leading from the sand up the side of the cliff, a natural staircase, or so it had seemed when you were younger and more imaginative. Mat grabbed your hand to help you up, his palm big and heavy against your own, and you couldn’t help but wonder how you used to make it up here as children.

At the top, your eyes met the most beautiful sight, and, for once, it wasn’t just the man standing next to you. The moon had risen over the ocean, casting its cool glow across miles and miles of water. The water was dark and blue and lapping gently at the pool below you, and the air was still warm, though the rocks beneath your feet were finally cooling off. You both watched in silence for a few moments, taking in all the beauty of the scene before you and forgetting all about his hand in yours.

“It’s certainly a lot smaller than I remember.” It was true, the rock definitely wasn’t as high as you pictured it to be. It was a high cliff, sure, but standing atop it was much less intimidating than facing your feelings for Mat.

“Yeah, well, you were a lot smaller eleven years ago too.”

He snickered, his hand squeezing yours, perhaps subconsciously, or maybe in realization, he’d still been holding it. But he still didn’t let go, and neither did you. His face was warm, not that you’d ever notice, not in the dark. “Well, you’re about the same size.”

“Mat! Not true!”

“Yeah, it is.” He pulled you against his side like he always did in a little half-hug and laughed that beautiful laugh of his. After a few more moments of smiling silence, Mat hummed in thought. “Ya know what? I know what would make this jump a lot more fun.”

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“Skinny dipping.”

Your heart almost stopped when the words passed his lips. You hesitated to respond, laughing a little bit. “No, you’re not serious.”

“Yeah, I mean, no one can see us out here. There are no houses nearby. Only us.” It was tempting, so, so tempting, and Mat could tell you were right on the edge of saying yes. You were. “Listen, I’ll stay far away from you the whole time and I won’t even look at you, I promise. But we’re leaving soon, we'll probably never get another chance at this exact spot, and we’re twenty-one, twenty-two, let’s do something reckless. Let’s be stupid together. Yeah?”

You bit your lip, and Mat would never admit to you how much you turned him on at that moment alone, but he stored that image away for later tonight. You were considering it, but both you and Mat already knew you had made up your mind long ago.

“Sure.”

“Yeah?”

You laughed, the excitement of doing something so scandalous and dangerous and intimate with him finally settling in. Mat smiled back at you, you both laughed and looked at each other with complete reckless abandon. There was nothing else to lose after this. Easily every shred of friendship would be gone. You couldn’t be just friends anymore. “Let’s be reckless.”

“Let’s go, baby!”

“You first, though.” You stepped away from him and motioned towards his shorts, your heart pounding and cheeks hot. The smile on his face should’ve warned you that he wasn’t playing around here, but for some reason, you were still shocked at what he did next.

“Alright, fine.” You could feel a slickness between your thighs as he hooked his fingers in the waistband of his shorts and smirked as he shimmied them down, making a great show of swaying his hips and biting his lip, trying and succeeding to be as sexy as possible. And though you jokingly laughed and pleaded for him to stop, the dull ache in your core only worsened when you caught just a glimpse of what lay beneath the fabric, at the end of that V shape in his hips. Your eyes shot up to the sky, your face red hot and shy when he lifted his swim trunks as proof and flung them towards your feet.

“Ew, Mat!”

“Come on, your turn!” Your heart pounded and you couldn’t help the wave of self-consciousness. But Mat’s smile was addictive, and he made you so comfortable, comfortable enough to have you pulling Mat's hoodie over your head, letting it fall by your ankles and leaving you in your bikini.

“Turn around, Mat.”

He raised his hands in surrender and smiled as he turned, and you couldn’t help but glance- for just one second- down at his toned thighs and ass. Wow…. “I know you’re staring, y/n/n.”

“Wha- no!”

“I don’t mind, babe. Look wherever you want. I'm all yours.” And his body shook with laughter as you undid the string of your top and slipped out of your bottoms and tossed the fabric towards his feet. You could see him do a double-take at the sight, as if he didn't believe you were serious about skinny dipping, but you couldn’t bring yourself to laugh, to busy marveling at his physique, the dark swoop of hair he kept running his hand through- a nervous habit you’d recognized as far back as 2008- the muscles of his back and shoulders, the dip at the small of his back, his toned ass, his thighs... He wasn’t even looking at you, but there was something about how you were so bare, so vulnerable, so close to him. Just the idea of his body and yours being so close and so primal, so exposed, and about to take this leap… something was stirring up a fire, a fire you'd put out later. Your fingers slipped down between your thighs momentarily, marveling at how hot Mat made you before they wiped hastily on your thigh and you stored those memories away for later that night. Your other hand curled into Mat’s again, and his fingers squeezed around yours at the contact, as if it was the most natural thing to do. The only thing against his body, besides your own skin, was the bracelet you had put all your love and energy into, all for him, and now you were standing on the edge, taking a final breath. About to jump. About to fall with him as hard as you’d already fallen for him.

“You ready, Maty?”

“I think I should be asking you, pretty girl.”

You hesitated, still a little nervous, trying to build up that excitement. “Countdown?”

“Course. After three. Say it with me?”

“Okay." Your thumb smoothed over his hand, tightening your grip. "Three.”

“Two.” He squeezed back.

“One.”

Mat gave a final, devilish smirk as he whispered “Jump.” and, with one of his iconic howls, your feet were off the ground.

You felt so free, so vulnerable, so exposed, falling naked through the cool air, hands clammy and grasped against each other, shrieking in excitement and adventure. You had bared yourself to Mat, you had stripped yourself of any fears and leaped with him, as if each article of clothing that hit the ground was another shedded insecurity, another forgotten reason for hesitation. You’d pushed the boundaries until they couldn’t go any further, then said “fuck it” and tore the boundary away. There was a brief moment of fear as you hit the cold water, but the moment you resurfaced with a gasp to see Mat’s smiling face, his hair dark and saturated, dripping into his eyes, you couldn’t help but laugh.

You'd done it.

"Wow!"

“Right?”

Your combined laughter filled the little inlet with squeals of glee as you splashed around with Mat. It wasn’t too deep, but deep enough that your feet couldn’t touch the bottom, and you instinctively gravitated towards Mat. You moved closer toward him, maybe subconsciously, as if your body craved his more than your mind would ever be able to comprehend. As if you were pulled to him by some force you couldn't control, the same way you'd found each other after 10 years apart, how you'd found yourselves here again, so close, so opened up and bare before each other, even after you'd both thought you'd wrecked any chances. How you had found the sunshine in Mat's smile again, even after the rain.

"Was it worth it?"

"Absolutely!"

The water was cold, goosebumps were popping up along your arms and legs, and across Mat’s as well. And as you drew closer to him and reached out for his wrist, dragging your hand from the bracelt he wore so proudly, up the length of his arm, his hands reached for yours as well, looking for a lifeline as his smooth voice reached your ears.

“You cold?”

You nodded and ran your hands across the tight muscles of his biceps, warm despite the chilly air, and flattening them against his chest before bringing them up, up, up behind his neck to tangle in his dark, wet hair. Your breath hitched in your throat when Mat's hands dipped under the water to your waist, leaving a bit of space between your bodies and honoring his promise from earlier to stay away, but asking permission with his eyes. His big hands squeezing your waist was making your mind spin, and you could barely stutter out a quiet: “You?”

“Nah. Feels fine for me.” He grinned, "But I can help you." He pulled you ever so slightly closer, slowly, slowly, until you were flush with each other, your bodies slick and wet and warm in the cool water, every crevice and curve fitting against each other like puzzle pieces. Mat’s blown eyes traced over your face, from your eyes, down to your lips, and leaned down, pressing his face against your shoulder and pulling you as close as possible, bringing a knee up to prop you against him. He opened his hot mouth along your skin, leaving wet kisses across your shoulder and up your neck. Your chest was pressed flush against his, your nipples poking out hard against his skin, your hands in his wet hair, his big hands engulfing your waist with his touch, his knee inserted between your thighs to keep you against him, floating, weightless, against him. “Let me help?”

And God, how you wanted him to help.

It seemed as if every part of you was touching. Your skin was hot and wet and the sound of the gentle lapping of water against your bodies and on the shore made everything feel like a dream. Even more euphoric, though, was the way Mat's eyes- dark and needy- found yours, in the way you'd always seen in your dreams. The way you'd only seen in your dreams. Until now.

And then, finally, your mouths.

Your mouths collided hot and needy, open and wet and the furthest thing from chaste, wanting to swallow each other up, to ease the aches you had tried to bury so deep in your bodies. You wanted to get so lost in him that you’d never come back, so lost in him that for the rest of time it’d only be you and Mat and the ocean. Weightless, naked, and hot. And he wanted to bury himself in you, hide away from the rest of the world for just this night. He’d been craving it all week. And what he’d been craving was more than sex, it was the affection, the intimacy, the closeness of being with you, entangled with you, so gentle but so needy, giving in completely and finally- finally- letting your hearts take control. His tongue was slippery and warm against yours, and it felt, for a moment, as if this was meant to be.

“I would treat you so much better than he did.” Mat’s mouth was hot and wild and messy against yours, breathing against you and moaning out his confession. “I would be so much better. I’d fucking cherish you.”

“Mathew.”

“Fuck, I’d take such good care of you.”

“Mat, I want you.”

“Fuck,” He groaned against you, rocking his body against yours gently. Your hands burnt his skin wherever you touched, your nails dragging along smooth, wet skin and leaving angry red lines in their wake, dragging down his sides, over his hard abs, right to that one forbidden area. “I want you so bad, baby.”

There were no more words, only hot, aching silence as Mat held you against him. You were slick between your thighs, even under the water you could feel that familiar warmth, the tingling in your belly at the sound of his voice and the feeling of his face against yours, his nose pressed against your cheek as his lips ravaged yours, his tongue delving into the crevices of your mouth to taste you, to feel every part of you. His hands slid to your ass and pulled you as close as possible, molding your skin against his and gluing you to him with the passion. You could feel his desire, hard and swelling and needy between your bodies, and you wanted him. You wanted him more than anything.

“Stop, stop, stop.”

Mat, always concerned with you before anything else, pulled away, his eyes wide and worried, his hands dropping you back into the water, where you pushed yourself back as fast as you could, trying to catch your breath. “What?”

“We can’t.”

He said nothing else, but nodded and stepped away from you, averting his eyes, his face hot and his head spinning. Fuck, he was still aching. But you took your chance to wade to shore and scramble up the rocks to collect your clothes and hide yourself again. You were shaking, trying to shake away the shame flooding through your body at what you just did. Fuck, fuck, fuck, why did you have to do that? Why did you do something that stupid? If last night didn’t ruin your friendship, tonight certainly did.

Mat was standing in the sand at the bottom of the cliff, turned away from you, trying to even out his breathing, and you brought his swim trunks down as a courtesy, the least you could do. “Thanks.” His voice was choked up, strained, and he cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck before pulling them back on.

The walk home was silent, but not silent in the way that it had been earlier, comfortable and warm. There was no hand-holding, no smiles, no funny small talk. Only pain and heartbreak. Both your minds were struggling to process the last hour. Why had you decided to leave the house tonight? Why did you let yourself take it that far? How could you ruin something so amazing? How many chances would you give each other before giving up and never spoke again?

You almost ran up the porch into the house and to your bedroom, as Mat followed silently behind. Your bedroom door was already locked, you were already hidden beneath the covers, tears in your eyes and hands between your thighs with the thought of Mat paguing your mind, when Mat made it to his, glanced across the hallway at your door, and finally hid himself away.

He wished he didn’t feel this way, he wanted nothing more than to love you as a friend, but the same as every other night, Mat fell asleep with you floating through his mind. Only this time, it was more than your image. It was the smell of you, your burning touch, your sweet taste as your tongue danced against his own, imprinted on his brain, daring him to even try to think of another woman ever again. He bit his tongue as he jerked his desire desperately into his hand, holding back his moans and his cries as he spared one last thought to you before spilling out and letting the tears stream down his hot cheeks.

And he fell asleep, sticky and shameful and, like always, thinking of you.

#mat barzal #smile like sunshine #mat barzal x reader #reader insert #nhl fanfiction #mat barzal fanfiction #fic #op

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bbrandy2002 · 4 years

Text

Fool’s Rush In

Part 3

I’m participating in @wackydrabbles prompt #52: Sure, alcohol solves most problems, but in this particular case, I don't think it will help (It is highlighted in bold).

Series Premise: With two weeks until Liam is to marry Madeleine, the guys throw him a bachelor party in Vegas. After a drunken night, he finds himself with way more than he bargained for.

You can find the previous chapters here.

MC did not exist in Liam’s social season. OC Riley Brooks lives in Las Vegas.

Pairing: Liam x OC

Book: The Royal Romance

A/N: This is an 18 plus series. There is mention of an STD, so if that is a trigger … might not want to read.

A/N: Thanks to @burnsoslow and @choiceskatie for snippet reading. And Burnsy and @jessiembruno for suggestions.

Word Count: 1752

Permanent Tags: @emceesynonymroll @romanticatheart-posts @burnsoslow @dcbbw @ao719 @jessiembruno @hopefulmoonobject @texaskitten30 @drakesensworld @janezillow @merridithsmiscellany-blog @mskaneko @loveellamae @queenjilian @sirbeepsalot @pedudley @caroldxnvxrs @jovialyouthmusic @forthebrokenheartedthings @desireepow-1986 @bebepac @kingliam2019 @lovablegranny @cordoniaqueensworld @amandablink @blueaster-blog1 @liamxs-world @choiceskatie @iaminlovewithtrr @hopelessromanticmonie @charlotteg234

Series Tags: @princessleac1 @cordonia-continued @sanchita012 @shz256 @cordonia-gothqueen @narrytheworld @graceful-leah @mom2000aggie @queenwalton @tinkie1973 @muchkoolermk

*I only tag those who ask for it. Let me know if you want added or removed.

**Be kind: hit the heart button, leave a comment or reblog. It makes a writer so so happy 💗

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Standing in the bathroom of the hotel's penthouse they shared with friends, Maxwell broke the news to a stunned Drake about his ... unfortunate condition.

"What're you gonna do about them, Drake?"

Frustrated, Drake ran a hand down his face, wanting to be anywhere but with Maxwell at that precise moment. "I don't know, Maxwell," he spat. "This is my first crabbing!"

"Maybe we can have a doctor look at them. Get some ... I don't know ... kind of comb or poison or something."

He pulled his pants back up and groaned. "I just need a drink."

Maxwell followed Drake out of the bathroom, keeping a good distance from his friend. "Sure, alcohol solves most problems, but in this particular case, I don't think it will help."

Liam and Leo sat on the sofa watching the Instagram posting of the wedding ceremony as the duo walked by.

A disgruntled Liam stood and gestured to the laptop on the coffee table. "Maxwell! Why the hell did you post this? Do you have any idea what you've done?"

Drake was already out the door headed for the hotel bar. Maxwell never broke stride as he trailed. "No time to talk, Li. Got an STD emergency."

The door slammed with a jarring thud. Liam turned back to Leo with a confused look. "What was that?"

"Sounds like the Drakester didn't wrap it up," Leo chuckled while sippng on a capri-sun, while never taking his attention away from the screen. "Oh! Oh!" He waved his younger brother over with excitement. "This is the part where you sang, Moves Like Jagger, to Riley during the ceremony."

They both listened in as Liam's garbled voice reverberated from the speakers watching the King grind fervently against his bride. "Take me by the tongue, and I'll know you. Kiss me 'til you're drunk, and I'll show you all the moves like Liam. I've got the moves like Liam. I've got the moooOoooOooOooves like Liam."

Liam's hands flew in the air out of bewilderment. "I don't even know that fucking song!"

Leo slurped through his little yellow straw then replied, "I think you do. Videos don't lie, Liam."

A haste knock interrupted their viewing; Liam answered the door, surprised to see Riley.

The frantic woman held her phone up to his face. "Do you want to explain why I'm all over the internet with you, Elvis, and this … this monkey? Also, it says we got married?"

Leo bolted from the sofa. "Hey! That monkey has a name, you know.”

"Not now, Leo," Liam grumbled.

Riley leaned to get a better look at the sandy-haired blond who was approaching the door. "Who are you?"

Stepping in front of his brother with a hand extended, he flashed his signature grin. "I'm Leo, your new brother-in-law. But only by half because my mom left me. Then I got a new mommy: Liam's mom -- then she died. Then we both got another new mom. Wait … is Regina still alive? Oh my god! Tell me we still have a mom, Liam!"

"Leo! Get the hell out of here!"

He huffed. "Fine. I'll go make a sandwich. You want one sis?"

Riley shook her head.

Liam gave her an apologetic look. "I'm so sorry about him. Please come in." He stepped aside and offered her a seat on the sofa.

She couldn't help but notice the laptop on the table paused on their abrupt ceremony. It was apparent to her that Liam was trying desperately to get his own answers.

Liam pushed the laptop aside and sat across from her on the table; his elbows rested on his thighs as he sat forward. He let out a heavy exhale. "I suppose we have a lot to talk about."

"Yes, we do. What is all of this? And you're a King? Why didn't you tell me that?"

"I am. It's a small country in the Mediterranean -- Cordonia. And I couldn't tell you because my head guard wouldn't allow me to come on this trip without him unless I remained discreet about my identity."

Riley regarded him thoughtfully. "I suppose that makes sense."

Leo handed her a Capri-Sun with the straw already pushed in. She took it hesitantly and thanked him. "I guess I just need to know how we ended up married to one another last night?"

Liam's remorseful eyes idled up to his brother, who was now standing next to him, eating a turkey and Frito's sandwich. "According to my brother here, whose heart is bigger than his brain, I called him and asked him to marry us."

Leo shook his head. "That's true, Riley. It's all Liam's fault."

Liam rolled his eyes. "Leo, why don't you go check on Drake and Max."

"Fuck that! Drake ain't got nothing I wanna be checking on right now."

"No, stay," Riley pleaded. "You seem to be the only one who knows what happened last night. Can you tell me everything, please?"

Leo gave Liam an arrogant smirk before falling back onto the sofa beside Riley.

"I'll tell you everything, but you two have to promise to name your firstborn after it's Uncle Leo."

Liam dropped his head into his hands. "Leo, dammit."

Leo nudged Riley in the side and leaned into her. "Your husband's an asshole. Probably inherited from our daddy. If he ever makes you drink from a wine goblet, you should probably run."

Riley patted his knee like a child and spoke softly, assuming at this point he was a mental case. "Leo, sweetie, can you just tell me what happened last night, please."

"Well, as I told Liam, I was getting my prostate milked from hot Nurse Trisha at the bank. I just needed change for a twenty, but they said I had to make a deposit first. They even give you porn in this private room. So she's two fingers deep when I get a call from Liam, who was as drunk as Cooter Brown at a church picnic and said he needed me to come down to that Graceland Chapel because he was getting married. So after I sputtered in the little cup, I left in such a hurry I didn't get my change, but I called Drake and Max and told them they had to meet us at the chapel."

Riley cocked her head. "Why was a monkey there?"

"Oh, that's Mongo, the ring bearer. And if you pulled on his nipples, he'd hump your legs and give you a quick reach around. The coolest fucking monkey I ever knew."

Riley snapped a wide-eyed stare at Liam, who just shrugged at her and said, "I ... I've got nothing."

Leo bit into his sandwich. The crunch from the mound of Fritos could be heard in the casino fifty-one stories below. "You know, Liam --" He smacked his lips a few times. "Now that you're married to sis, you don't have to marry Maddie. You can have the wife and Queen you've always wanted. And judging by the noises I heard coming from your room last night, she makes you very happy."

Riley chuckled, slightly embarrassed, while Liam stood and walked to the wet bar for a drink and some distance.

"Leo, I appreciate the thought," he said while pouring a tumbler of scotch. "But Riley and I are just strangers who had a good time, but made a huge mistake." Liam took a sip of his drink and walked back to the sofa. "Don't worry about anything, Riley. I will take care of the annulment in Cordonia and here in the states."

She smiled. "I would appreciate that. Thank you."

Leo tossed his sandwich on the table. "No! Liam, man, this is your chance to be free. You came to Vegas and hit the jackpot. And maybe you two kids are strangers now, but there's no reason why you couldn't get to know each other and fall madly in love. You already know you'll never love Mads. And then at the end of the day, I'd be the big sexy cupid who made it all possible."

It surprised Liam that his brother's suggestion tempted him... and that Leo actually made a coherent suggestion. He sighed. "I don't think so, Leo."

Riley looked between the two men, who seemed to have a stare down over the logic of this idea. She liked Liam; he was the handsome, mysterious guy that she had always dreamed of meeting. She took a long drink of her juice and sat it on the table. "I think I will go, now. Is there anything you need from me, Liam, to quicken the annulment?"

"If you could write your contact information down in case my lawyer has questions, that would be great. I'll be sure you receive copies of everything as soon as possible."

Riley pulled a notepad and a pen from her purse as Leo walked over to Liam to debate further. "Don't do this little brother. Don't you do it. We can't afford to lose another member of our family. First it was daddy, then Regina, now Riley. I can't take it, Liam."

Liam placed a hand on Leo's shoulder. "It's done, Leo. And ... Regina is alive. You just spoke to her yesterday."

Leo's head dropped back with a heavy sigh of relief. "Oh, thank god."

"Here ya go, Liam." Riley stood and handed the paper to him and grabbed her purse from the sofa.

Leo clutched both of her shoulders and shook them. "Please, Riley, don't go. Don’t leave my brother an orphan. You're the Queen of Cordonia now. Think of the people!"

Riley snorted from just the thought. "I know nothing about being a queen. I doubt I would have anything to offer your little country."

"Liam could teach you! Hell, I can teach you, too. I'm the smartest one in the family. You'll be bossing people around in no time."

"That's very kind of you, but I think I like my little life just fine here in Vegas, bossing kids around the classroom all day." She patted his arm endearingly and walked past him toward the door.

Liam stood there, watching her walk away while the words of his brother replayed heavily through his mind. Nothing made sense; he was sad that she was leaving, knowing that it was completely irrational to feel that way. Leo was right, though: this was his chance to be free, and even if it didn't work out in the end, it could buy him time to find the one he would love and have the family he always wanted.

He turned away and walked back to the wet bar to pour another drink; he wouldn't be selfish and ask this complete stranger to give up her life for him.

With his back turned, he closed his eyes when he heard Riley speak her goodbyes and opened the door.

A familiar voice rang out that shook him to his core, and he whipped around to see his current wife stopped at the door by his future one.

"Oh, you must be the one who thinks she can steal my crown."

#Fools Rush In #king liam #choices liam x mc #liam x riley #liam x mc #the royal romance #prince leo #choices fanfiction #trr #bbrandy2002 #wackydrabbles

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thewebcomicsreview · 4 years

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Oh shit, Homestuck 2 is back! Looks like the art team problems are getting worse, but maybe the writing’s good? Quick, recap of the story so far, since there was a hiatus

Previously, on Homestuck 2: DIRK: I’m evil now and we’re on a new planet where we shall create our own lifeforms and rule them as gods ROSE: I’m making memes and vaginas DIRK: NOOOOO ROSE: Jade got me preganté and we named our kid Yiffy and I kept it a secret from everyone this whole time, including my wife but inexplicably not the dictator I’ve trying to overthrow, who kidnapped her JOHN: NOOOOO CALLIOPE: I’m in ur bod drinking ur juice JADE: NOOOOO CALLIOPE: Oh, like you’re not used to having weird people inside you, skank JADE: Wow, rude, I’m kicking you out of my brain for that CALLIOPE: NOOOOO JOHN: Man, I love how my son tells me everything and keeps no secrets KARKAT: John! Vriska’s alive and she murdered the clown pope and your son is hiding her because he and his friends are wanted for treason JOHN: ...... KARKAT: You’re supposed to say “NOOOOO” John: Why would I? That fucking rules! We now return to Homestuck 2

Yay, we’re finally seeing Davebot, Aradia, and Calliope. Fun fact: In a comic with like ten billion retcons and timeline splits, this Aradia is still the definitive “real” Aradia in a way no other character can claim to be (except Sollux), which is a fun endgame for a character who was introduced has having hundreds of thousands of duplicates. I can not wait to see how the HS2 writers ruin her. (Also, where did they get a rocket ship?)

Also it it me, or is there something a little off about this art?

DAVEBOT: beep boop ARADIA: i have told you several times that i was a robot before and i know for a fact you dont have to say beep boop DAVEBOT: hm that sounds fake does not compute ARADIA: david DAVEBOT: mom

“David”?

This is the first indication in the entire series that any of these kids’ names are short for anything, something Hussie explicitly said wasn’t the case but which was never actually addressed in the comic proper so I guess it’s not a plot hole. Still, it feels a little....wrong?

ARADIA: well we are both an infinite number of years old living countless lifetimes at once but thats no reason to waste any of our...

Wait, what?! Aradia is Ultimate, too? When did that happen?! Why does she not need a robot body?

DAVEBOT: time DAVEBOT: say time ARADIA: ... DAVEBOT: time then make a weird face

There’s a fine line between “callback” and straight up recycling a joke.

ARADIA: would you say you are hung up on leaving your wife and friends behind DAVEBOT: are you ARADIA: am i hung up about leaving your wife and friends behind ARADIA: i do not think that i am no DAVEBOT: arent you even a little guilty about ditching your boyfriend ARADIA: what ARADIA: oh fuck

I do like the implication here that Aradia flat forgot about Sollux. Poor dude can’t catch a break. .

Ooh, an [S]. An extremely basic one, but still. Also, from this scene in the epilogues:

The distant sounds of war travel above the canopy of a forest. The artillery fire fades to a series of muted knocks and thuds as the sound waves cross beyond a thinning patch of the forest and arrive in a clearing of grass and shrubbery. Above, the sky is dramatic, colorful, menacing. The way it looks when a storm is coming. The clouds are wild, whipped into a sort of spatial frenzy, as if they know what’s imminent is no earthly phenomena. Aradia stands in the field, her mouth gaping wide. But not at the sky.

Probably the starkest example of how the epilogues presented Earth C has falling about and doomed and stormy and scary like the system crash in Reboot and Homestuck 2 has it all sunny and bright. I kind of wish HS2 kept the semi-apocalyptic feel of the epilogues, even if it made Aradia’s spurious decision to leave Sollux behind way more dickish.

Oh hey, God��s back, and back in the body of the OG pre-Retcon Jade Harley. There’s something very Shoujo about this posing.

DAVEBOT: thanks JADE: They sit in each other's presence, the silence between them as meaningful as any words they could exchange. DAVEBOT: its always really cool to hear how meaningful my silences are DAVEBOT: especially while DAVEBOT: CALCULATING DAVEBOT: CALCULATING DAVEBOT: especially while i am attempting to experience them

I think Calliope, and possibly Aradia, is shipping Dave/Aradia right now, which is a pairing that has some comedic appeal were it not for Dave’s gayness.

ARADIA: i think she looks quite lovely covered in the viscera of the all-powerful enemy she consumed ARADIA: floating lifelessly in our periphery

We just established that this is months after they left Candyland. Has Jade’s body been covered in the blood and guts of Lord English this entire time? Take a goddamn shower, Jesus.

Oh, there we go. Much better. Also, the one thing I heard about this upd8 was all the discussion of jorts, and then Dave references jorts, but no one is actually wearing them, unless Aradia’s got a pair on under her cultist robes? (Also, is Calliope’s Jade body healed from the shard of reality that killed it originally, or is there just a huge hole under her shirt)?

JADE: As a point of curiosity- ARADIA: oh shit!!!!

The dead Cherub possessing the body of an equally deceased Goddess of Space pauses at the interruption. Were she to voice her opinion, it would be that --actually-- it is not unusual for those whose primary concern is The Grander Scheme to have a passing curiosity about the insignificant. So when one really thinks about it, any annoyance with the attendant’s small mindedness is both understandable and warranted.

ARADIA: :(

Given how much time was spent on how Terezi can sense Dirk’s narration, I like how Calliope’s narration is literally just her talking out loud and everyone can clearly hear it and just assumes it’s like a troll quirk.

ARADIA: in this form our bodies stop aging once we reach maturity i think ARADIA: the god tier keeps our physical form locked in a state of undying ARADIA: even in death the bodies do not decay ARADIA: only lay dormant DAVEBOT: no thats boring DAVEBOT: like how long have you been alive JADE: yes, that one.

One of the things I don’t fully get about Calliope is why there’s stuff like this she doesn’t know. Another thing I don’t get: How come John and Jake are visibly middle-aged? They’re gods, too.

ARADIA: you were there too i threw your air conditioner into the sun DAVEBOT: wow thats fucked up DAVEBOT: thats not where that goes at all JADE: these events are not-canonical. ARADIA: rude

I believe this is a reference to Pesterquest?

DAVEBOT: is that the trope of being hundreds of years old but looking young forever patently sucks ass DAVEBOT: a plot device an asshole would write ARADIA: :( JADE: that is not what i am trying to say at all. DAVEBOT: hmm wow yeah thatd really be a sort of pot/kettle situation i guess DAVEBOT: i cant believe im the only woke one here DAVEBOT: its hard being such a visionary AND such a fine metallic specimen

What the fuck is David even talking about? What?

DAVEBOT: but can she see why kids love the sweet cinnamon taste of cinnamon toast crunch JADE: i do not know, or care, what that means. ARADIA: neither do i :)

I like the “Best Narrator” mug, and with this sudden headache to interrupt the laughter comes the end of the chapter and presumably a lead in to the next one when we’ll learn what’s blowing Calliope’s mind

#Homestuck #Homestuck 2 #Homestuck 2 Liveblog

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mellomedia · 3 years

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Youth Culture

For Media & Society’s first blog post, our class watched Euphoria, Mid90s, Mean Girls, Kids, and The Breakfast Club. If you haven’t figured out the theme yet, it’s youth culture. Most of these films were set in the 80s and 90s before this current generation. This is the first generation where our lives are saturated by mobile technology and social media (Divecha, 2017). But no matter what generation, youth culture has many common behaviors, or misbehaviors.

Often when I watch a film or read a comic book, I wonder if I relate to the story or anyone in it. I looked for anything in common I might have with one of the characters in the five films we watched. I can identify with Ray from Mid90s the most. I’m not a die-hard skateboarder like Ray. In fact I can’t skateboard at all, but I dedicate all my time and energy into art and animation. While we have different interests, I can relate to Ray’s passion for something he enjoys and the energy he puts into it. Ray is the top skateboarder in his group and practiced every day. All my spare time is spent drawing and taking online animation courses. My goal is to always do better than what I did yesterday. Words to describe Ray would be the same way I describe myself: down to earth, not concerned with fitting in, my own person, caring, always willing to help, and a very loyal friend. When Stevie joins the skateboard crew in the film Mid90s, he finally digs up some money to buy Ruben’s old, used skateboard. Stevie gets injured while attempting an insane jump over a hole in a roof and breaks his skateboard. Ray sees how much Stevie is trying to fit in, no matter how many falls he takes, he gets back up. Ray has a big heart and builds Stevie a new skateboard. As I mentioned, I’m not a skateboarder, but I enjoy trying to make people smile with my art. I enjoy drawing a cartoon of a friend to help them to get out of a funk or just listen to whatever it is they are going through.

These films all share a few common themes. One theme is belonging. I admit I looked up the term “fitting in” and it was compared to belonging. Fitting in is defined as to be like other people in a group – what they wear, how they act, how they look. (Pace, 2018) Belonging is a basic human need – it is about acceptance – being where you want to be and being where you are wanted (Pace, 2018). A few examples are Stevie (Mid90s) wants to be accepted into the skateboard crew; Brian (The Breakfast Club) brings a flare gun to school as a suicide attempt because he didn't feel he was good enough; and Cady (Mean Girls) is the new girl trying to get accepted by The Plastics.

My freshman year in high school definitely falls into the theme of belonging. I struggled with speech and have a learning disorder. And at the time I had zero confidence in socializing. I’d walk over to a group of kids in the cafeteria just to try to get involved in the conversation, but I couldn’t form sentences quick enough to jump in. I would be the weird kid just standing there. One day my speech therapist asked me what I wanted to improve and I told her I wanted to gain confidence in socializing. She told me the best way to do this would be to just try to talk to more people. Well in high school that worked with some kids, but not all. I’ll never forget one day in the cafeteria I was trying to find a place to sit and eat lunch. I saw an empty chair at a table where a ‘friend’ was sitting. The group was taking turns roasting one another. At one point another kid challenged me. I was doing fine until he said, “You know people are only nice to you because they don’t want to hurt your feelings.” That hurt like hell. He was referring to my speech impairment. I got up from the table and walked away. And that ‘friend’ at the table didn’t defend me at all. One girl came running over to make sure I was alright. I was pissed and hurt. I was not alright. Just so you don’t think I went off the deep end and had a miserable high school experience, I actually gained a great friend in high school that day. Alex, who was a senior, saw me leave track practice early. My head just wasn’t into track, so I went to sit in the empty cafeteria hoping to clear my head. He asked how things were going and I told him what happened that day. He told me, “It’s not easy finding out who your real friends are. But don’t change for anyone and don’t try to be like anyone else. Just be you.” I’ll never forget how he took the time to talk to me. After his advice, I could care less about belonging.

Another common theme between all five films is rebellion. When they aren’t skateboarding, most of the characters in Mid90s spend their time partying, drinking, and doing drugs. In The Breakfast Club, each character is in detention because they rebelled in some way. Why else would they be in detention? Every character in Kids was a rebel, actually more like a criminal. I bet the writer of the film was too.

A third theme is “bro” culture. “Bro” culture is defined as people who are bullies but at the end of the day they have your back, like a brother (Sloothunter42, 2018). Two great examples of “bros” are John (The Breakfast Club) and Ian (Mid90s). Throughout The Breakfast Club, John constantly insults the other kids in detention. He even insults the principal. The group escapes detention to wander the hallways. When the principal sees them, John saves the group by telling them to go back to the library while he distracts the principal. This link shows you the scene I’m explaining: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Iq7MRlHg5I (Hughes, 1985). Not something you would have expected from a bully, but you would from a “bro.” In Mid90s, Stevie’s brother, Ian, beats the crap out of him every chance he gets. But when Stevie is laying in a hospital bed after a car accident, his brother is there by his side. He even shares his precious orange juice.

Now onto one of my favorite things in life, music! I put together a playlist that relates to my adolescent experience. In no particular order, here are 10 songs and what each means to me. But let me point out that some song lyrics mean something to me, while with other songs it was the energy it gives off. I’m all about positive energy. First song is “Mr. Blue Sky” by Electric Light Orchestra. I first heard this song during the movie Guardians of the Galaxy. This song kept me motivated and positive during high school. If I was having a bad day, this was my ‘go to’ song. I also listened to it every day on my way to school. Next is “Crazy” by Gnarls Barkley, a.k.a. CeeLo Green. This song reminds me of my mind, imagination, and the stuff I think about. I always have a trillion things going on in my head. I guess that explains my poor focus skills and super procrastination. “Inner Ninja” by Classified is another upbeat song. A few lines that always stuck in my head are, “I find my inner strength and I re-up; Here we go, I know I've never been the smartest or wisest; But I realize what it takes; Never dwell in the dark cause the sun always rises.” My junior year of high school I was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes. It has and still is life-changing and as much as I don’t let it change who I am, I’m human. But as the song says, don’t dwell on the negative, look for the positive. I always remind myself of the positive. “Through the Fire and Flames” by DragonForce always fueled my brain when I was tired of doing homework or studying. To me the lyrics mean to keep moving forward no matter how difficult. Just look at what your goal is and don’t give up. Plus this song has one hell of a guitar solo that is very motivating. Michael Jackson is one of my favorite artists and “Man in the Mirror” reminds me how important it is to try to do good in the world and make a positive change. Regardless of culture, color, religion, and disability, we are all capable of making good changes in the world. I tried this on a much smaller scale in high school by volunteering at the food pantry and community events. “Clint Eastwood” by Gorillaz is one of many songs by this group that I like. It’s not so much the words I relate to, but I love the animation in their music videos. I remember the first time I saw one of their videos I thought how cool and mysterious it was that we only see the singers as cartoons. We are never shown who they really are. I like the fact that it’s different. Different is good in my world. “Intergalactic” by Beastie Boys reminds me of breakdancing and dancing in general. I love to dance and looked forward to every prom and homecoming dance at high school. “Without Me” by Eminem reminds me that no matter how much people criticize you, you can be very successful at what you enjoy doing. The last song on my list is “Take Me Out” by Franz Ferdinand. To be honest, I just like the beat of the song and it’s one of those songs I listened to over and over in high school.

So that wraps up my Youth Culture blog. I hope it gave you a better understanding of how I relate to the assigned films. But let me make one thing clear, I do not relate to anything in the film Kids. Not one thing.

Below is my self portrait of what goes through my mind.

Artwork by: Marcello Laudato

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graffitibible · 4 years

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Do you have any advice for writing or creating regularly? That’s hard for me and I’d like to get better at it.

it boils down to what works best for you personally tbh. i’ve got a system to write semi-regularly (or i did......restricted movement hours have kinda forced me to restructure that lol) and it works for me but that’s just how my brainyot works. i’m a routine-based creature so working writing into my routine was how i got myself to write semi-regularly.

ive also had significant Brain Junk for most of my life and was gradually able to navigate how best to create in spite of that but im also like, medicated for it and the like so self-care was a factor. i couldnt create shit while i was too busy lying in a pool of my own filth having fits of paranoia about the nature of reality so i was hardly about to make myself try and create stuff when that wasnt even on my radar.

i can share some of the things i do to keep myself writing though! like again this isn’t something that’s for sure gonna work for everybody cause everybodys wired differently but i hope some of it helps!

1. daily wordcount - i’ve mentioned this before but i have a daily wordcount that i do for my original fiction. i don’t apply the same standard to fic-writing because that risks making it an arbitrary barrier that puts too many numbers on my internal list. that being said, it’s very small. i make myself do 200 words per day. if that gets me going and writing more than that, awesome. if not, i still got a little bit done. 200 words is small, and it’s not overwhelming to catch up on if i miss a day. no matter how shitty im feeling i try to get in 200 words.

2. routine - since i’m a routine-based person by nature i basically found ways to finagle creative processes into all that. it’s not hard and fast because that kind of rigid structure makes me balk and i’m not that disciplined lol, but it’s usually something like “i have an hour-long lunch break at work and literally nothing else to do during it so i’ll write in that time period” or “i have thirty minutes of sitting by the stove making dinner so i’ll write until it’s ready”

3. momentum - or what my housemate fondly calls “The Juice.” if i have The Juice of inspiration i keep that going for as long as i can. if something’s not working for me i don’t scrap it or toss it right away. if i’m having trouble with a scene i make a note to myself and move on to a different one. example of this from my latest wip, which is part iv of mayhem

i hadnt worked out what was gonna go there and nothing was coming to me easy in the moment so i stuck the note there and kept going. my works are full of this shit. if i can’t think of a name or if there’s a statistic or a character i haven’t worked out yet i don’t wanna break my focus and momentum so i slap a note in the first draft and keep going. at a first draft stage the important thing is getting the words Out so it doesnt matter if theyre perfect. ill go back and fix them later, revise all i need to. first drafts dont need to be good, they just need to be there so i can spruce them up later.

on the flip side do not be like me and commit to this momentum so bad that you forget that you are a human being who needs to eat and consume liquids. i do that sometimes because of who i am as a person and it is a serious flaw of mine, do not be like this. sometimes getting some food in you is what you need to get The Juice flowing again and that sounds kinda gross and i am sorry

4. planning and hangups - this ones dependent on how you create. i forget where this analogy came from, but i’ve heard it said that some writers are architects who need a blueprint of where they’re going before they end up there and some writers are gardeners, who don’t need a set plan so much as they need to keep going. i’m definitely an architect - a lot of my works start out as bulletpoints of what scenes i wanna cover, what topics i wanna explore, etc. - though i have on occasion simply Written without any set destination, usually to force myself out of a creative slump. me being a big planner used to be one of the biggest barriers for me creatively because i’d spend hours agonizing over minute universe details and never start the dang story. this still happens from time to time. like heres what my organizational folder looks like wrt “pray for disaster”

that is not even all the files in there. why do i have two dictionaries. jesus. like i make these giant ass fuckin....tomes of stuff i like to keep track of, which i like to call “bibles” lol. except i could tell that getting too organized was gonna be an uphill battle with very little payoff so by the end i just made a “MISCELLANEOUS BULLSHIT” doc and for now i throw everything in there if it doesn’t fit into something like a dictionary or timeline

shit like this is why i like to just sit down and write without a clear destination in mind if i’m having writer’s block. that’s one of those things that goes hand in hand with the way i take advantage of my own momentum - if i reach a certain point where i’m just picking at details and not doing any writing i just go “ok motherfucker sit down and write shit. we will work out the details later.”

5. motivation - the ways i tend to motivate myself are weird so idk how true this is for anybody else but i’ve been writing for a pretty large part of my life. i went to college for english/creative writing and got a whole dang degree cause i still wanna make this my vocation somehow. one thing i cannot ever turn off is the writer part of my brain that’s going “oooh huh that’s not how i would’ve written that” in literally every piece of art i consume - tv, movies, books, songs, etc. sometimes that’s enough to inspire me into doing something on my own time. most of the time though if i’m feeling stumped i tend to crack open some of my personal favorite works, like books or fics that have really resonated with me, to fall in love with the art all over again. seeing the way different authors and artists do their craft helps me get in the zone of wanting to write more cause i get this nice feeling of “damn, these people really did those things with those words.....that’s fuckin amazing.....i wanna do that.”

you do risk falling into the trap of “ugh i can’t write like them though” but that’s the beauty of writing. nobody can write the way anybody else does. ofc i can’t write like terry pratchett, only terry pratchett can write like terry pratchett, and if i compare myself to terry pratchett i’m only gonna get sad and mopey. but i can write in a way thats totally unique to me so i should not try to write like terry pratchett because that’s just impeding my own creative energy in the interest of trying to cookie-cut myself into someone else’s zone. only terry pratchett can write like terry pratchett but only i can write like zero graffitibible.

i hope that was helpful? like this is all stuff that works for me so no guarantee it’ll work for everyone else.

oh right and idk how many of yall are minors because let it be known that i do not condone underage drinking; i am an adult who occasionally will get crunk because i like to write drunk and edit sober. if you too are an adult who can legally consume alcohol feel free to write while buzzed because that is a nice way to write with zero fuckin inhibitions. i dont get blackout drunk or nothing just a little buzzed and sometimes what i write makes no sense but i am at times at my most productive at 2am while mildly buzzed. its a thing.

like again i’m not really an authority on this by any means - this is just what works for me. but if it works for you too, great!! find your zone and all that

#anon #ask #z speaks #alcohol mention cw in case anybodys got that blacklisted #theres nothing as liberating as writing after having consumed 1.5 beers and feeling like a gOD #i say 1.5 but realistically its more like 1 #i am a tiny person who cannot hold their liquor #and beer really is just mulled fartweed but thats all right #creating is pain and pain is living and sometimes that entails drinking mulled fartweed cause itll loosen you up enough to really Write #i dont lean on this too much btw #its just like if i happen to get buzzed ill usually go 'you know what i should totally do. write.'#it is at times incomprehensible

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spacegaywritings · 4 years

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Drunk Kitchen - Chapter 1 / 2

Summary: Remy and Virgil have some fun with adult juice but their fun is about to drop when the craving for sustenance Can be read as purely platonic considering there is no lip-kisses. Tags: food mention ×missing your soulmate ×Alcohol ×Drunken Shenanigans ×Drunken Flirting ×Drunkenness ×war metaphors from drunk idiots taking cooking too serious

tumblr links:1 / 2 || ao3: 1 / 2 / all. My KoFi - Support me ♥ or Commission me Story under the cut!

The sun was low, the day was crisp. Afternoon settled over the land and into the bones of workers hungering for the sweet end of their weekend shifts just to make a bit of extra money and finally be with their beloved home.

Outside, a few people got ready to enjoy the Saturday night, to go wild and party and dance until their bodies had different shames and their head carried different names. The first groups emerged from the home-coming crowds as the birds flew back to their nests and the first buses took the party people over to the pool of sweaty bodies and alcoholic beverages.

Inside, some people reunited their families, others were greeting the next groups of wellness-seeking average people who just lived for getting a meal cooked for them once in a while.

In other places, the party was already high up. It was autumn, Saturday afternoon and so late, you could almost call it evening with the clouds closing in to frame the sun. The bright star was slowly descending, disappearing behind the busy streets and high skyscrapers.

Virgil and Remy... they were the last kind of people. Ever since their roommate - Emile, lovely and beloved datemate of theirs - was out to meet his parents and do some catching up stuff, Remy had decided that it was time to do some catching up as well.

Holding up a bottle of strong alcohol, he had invited Virgil into the “fun” they would have and all the other could see was the impending doom within a bottle. Still, he had given in and willingly decided to slurp some of the disgusting and burning liquid from Remy’s bouncing navel piercing.

Virgil had never forgotten his doubts as quick as in these moments.

Drinking was far beyond by now, the sun was burning with the last intensity of a stubborn yet dying ally. The last words were spoken and Remy sagged against his love.

“wmhwmhw V..”, he mumbled and snuggled against the taller boy.

Virgil swatted at the other but made no attempt at actually pushing him off or anything. Instead, he wrapped an arm around him after trying to get at his little coffee bean. He wavered on his feet but made sure to lean against the counter as Remy just decided to give in and crush Virgil with the whole weight of being responsible to hold him up.

“The fwuck yo...yo wan-mmm “, Virgil hiccuped as he snuggled the other, “uh.. Ri?”

His voice was low and the words came out much clearer than expected but Virgil was worse off than Remy, despite the heavy hiccuping that came from the smaller of the two.

“VIiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii”, Remy shouted at once, then dragged the syllable along as if it was a piece of chewed out, wet gum rather than a nickname.

The man in question just let out a grunt in reply but looked at the shorter guy with hazy hazel eyes. Heh, hazel hazy... hazyel... Pf..

Virgil’s lips twitched into a lazy smile. His arm tugged at Remy who had not enough control over his body to resist the strong suggestion of cuddling closer. The tall, slightly curvy man chuckled a bit and flapped his long lanky arms around his lovely Remy.

“Ri-Ri - Remyyyyyy”, he giggled in a singsong voice as he rocked from left to right and left to right and further to the right and then stopped.. because he lost the unsteady rhythm his drunkass-stupid mind had set up before. He was even too silly to follow his unconscious motifs.

The smaller man was torn between giggling and breaking off the whole hug but the rocking movement was something between nauseating and comforting in a way that he felt too mentally and physically weak in his knees to put a foot down and stop it. He just let his baggy body sluggishly fall from one to the other side within Virgil’s soggy grip.

“Nuuu”, Remy protested. He was so short of breath, he just snuggled back against Virgil’s chest and let out more distressed noises of Remy’s Complaints :tm: “Vii....”, he started again, his mind gathering every bit of brain juice he had to actually continue his intention and voice whatever weird thought had built up in his mind, “food..we..”

Remy swallowed.

“we need foo...fofof..foof....” Remy scoffed at himself, indignation taking over as he felt anger rise against his useless mouth. How dare it just suck at wording like this? “f-food. FucKING food!”

Spit flew against Virgil’s purple shirt but he was too dizzy to really see it. His mind was everywhere and it felt as if nothing was steady but instead, all was moving. He knew nothing should be moving and he had stopped rocking forever ago.

Wait, where was he? Oh, oh yes. Remy.

“uh.. what?”

He blinked and redirected his attention to the other again.

“Uh.. fo-forgot to .. uh .. what .. um, did you say? “

His mind was still drawing a blank at him so he just stared at Remy, hazel eyes empty and void of expectation or thought. He lacked about anything but a high blood sugar level and tons of alcohol. Yes. Yes, so much alcohol of it.. of this bottle and another bottle and oh man..

“Virgil - Vi Vi vI vI v iv iv viv - bitch! virgIL you stupid fucker”

Remy ranted on and patted his chest violently, insistently. The other blinked and just... nodded again, his wavy attention slowly wobbling back into place as Remy wanted to have it. His mind felt like these ... these screens ..oh man these screens... sleep screens? These screens that happen when you do not use your shit and then your technology gives you that DVD screen and the symbol changes colour and wobbles from one corner to another and usually just hits walls.

This was his mind right now.

“Virgil” Remy flapped a hand against Virgil’s cheek. “Like,... food... we gotta eat and this shit.... food... just food, man”

He voice started to sound like he was talking about a conspiracy rather than preparing a meal with one of his datemates.

Virgil carefully nodded. Still, his face seemed as droopy and out-of-this-world as before. Connecting to him seemed about impossible bit Remy was trying his best and somewhat succeeding at this point.

At last, the taller one was looking down at the man in black. A slightly oversized top was hugging Remy’s sides and slacked a bit around his chest area. Forever stoic, the tall over squinted at Remy and nodded.

“Food”, he repeated.

Slowly, at an incredibly ancient pace, Virgil’s mind seemed to start and actually process the idea of food, a meal. Yes, food. Food sounded good, sounded like an amazing thing to have. Oh, yes food could be tasty and they could eat together and have really tasty food that was delicious.

“Em has foood”, he argued eventually.

Yeah, whyever the hell would Virgil make food if it was not in order to satisfy Emile’s petite hunger. His mind just could not comprehend the idea of .... making a meal when Emile was gone. Why would he? It did not make sense.

Unless..

Virgil blinked, a flash of intelligence brushing through his alcohol-numbed braincells. Remy.

“hungry... uh.. you “, he started at first, then swallowed, his mouth tasting of cherries and kisses even sweeter than sugared fruit. And it tasted of a lot of alcohol. It could rival a bottle of common sanitising solution, to be candid. “You are hungry?”

Remy nodded eagerly!

His head bopped up and down immediately but once he had executed the movement for a bit, his head seemed to understand that the pressure and pain seemed to come from the sensation of sudden and repetitive movement of his innocent brain. If he tried harder, maybe he would just make a little cocktail in his head.

Heh, like a brain milkshake when you ate icecream a lot and it started hurting so you shake your head until the pain comes off. Brainfreeze was bad. Yes.

But food!!

“ah - uh.. food”, Remy repeated once more, “cook - um,.. we should cook.”

Virgil nodded without understanding and let himself be tugged along. The smaller boyfriend was freeing himself from Virgil’s wide hugs and he quickly made it out of the embrace and stepped away from the loving support that was his boyfriend’s stable shoulder.

Without missing another heartbeat, Remy strode forward and dragged Virgil along. Together, they made a move, they made progress, they took a whole step after the other until Remy - the genius of the two - made a big realisation- Virgil had been his support all along.

His body did not like being without any wall or shoudler to lean on. Instead of moving forward, he was suddenly experiencing the force of being forced downwards and he and Virgil bonked their heads together as they stupidly collapsed into the floor.

No braincell was lost in the process of making this fall. They were just as silly before the fall and they would continue to be silly even afterwards. Honestly, they were not more clever, now that they had experienced the first hardship.

Oh no. Those were drunk idiots.

Hurting heads clanked together and Virgil slid over the body underneath him, his throbbing temples restricting his reason and patience.

What had happpened? Did they not want to make food? But the food... Where was the food?

“Where ‘s Em?”, Virgil mumbled and scrambled his twig of a physical vessel back into a seating position at last.

Remy was still on the floor, groaning and cursing unintelligible strings of words. Maybe they were made-up words. They sounded made-up. Virgil’s boyfriend was beautiful and a really clever writer so he probably knew how to make words. Wow, such great skill.

He really wanted to kiss him now but a part of him was still mourning after the - once again - new realisation of a missing Emile.

“Viiiiiiiiiii”

A voice whined and the black bundle of boyfriend was moving towards him again, hands facing him and arms outstretched as if to grab Virgil like a lifeline.

“Em is not here...”, Virgil responded and laid back down to his partner.

Misery loves company ♥

The tall boy curled around the smaller one and gently hugged him from behind. Remy let out a little hiccup and snuggled into the embrace.

“n we dun hav food”, he argued silently and nudged Virgil’s chest with his heavy head. It was running on pain and simply pressing against his skull for no reason but to be dummy annoying.

That stupid bitch.

“We uh.. can umm.... do this thing - like..uh, cook..” Virgil swallowed, his body suddenly invigorated by the energy of being right about something, by having a single functioning braincell in his godforsaken drunk-ass head. “Cook! Oh my fuck, we-we can cook!”

The raven man twitched and tapped the floor insistently.

“PIZZA!”

Virgil nodded.

“uh.. how.. how do you.. uh ,,, we? How ... how pizza? How do you make uh, ujm.. pizza”

“Oh !! o ! yes, pizza!”

Virgil’s mind was already swirling around the idea of hot, cheesy, greasy food. Tasty, doughy and absolutely amazing for his mouth - his tastebuds. It felt like a relief already.

In foolish happiness, the two got up. It took a while, longer than a few moments but rather multiple minutes until they had climbed and dragged themselves back up to the position of standing, sophisticated human beings. Not that they were a part of the fancy beings but rather that they seemed to resemble this species a bit more than any other.

Eventually, Remy hung over the drawer filled with snacks. He needed to eat, wanted to eat and he had a certain craving for the greasiest of foods. The black dude grabbed the crisps and hugged them to himself, snuggling up on topf of the kitchen counter with the little snack as Virgil got minced meat to make a killer festival of a greasy pizza dish. Remy started off good! His hands grabbed the package from two sides and started pulling. For some reason, still, his grip seemed to slip. His fingers just couldn't grasp the material properly. It was one of the shiny packages that felt smoother than these matte ones. Virgil liked the texture better so they usually got these rather than other ones.

Just.. today.. they didn't seem to want to open and Remy, in his silly mind, was convinced that more violence and stubbornness would solve the issue better than scissors would ever be able to. Virgil got a pan and was ready to got. Meat, pan. What else would a person need?

His drunk mind started working, gears setting into motion and letting his thought process start. Just as he realised that maybe some oil would be helpful, he heard a loud sound, a sudden shuffling and scattering.

The hazy mind of Virgil redirected his shortened attention span to the source of sound and was met with the sight of Remy covered in spices and crisps. Opening the pack of crisps with a little more aggression was not as practical as he had expected it to be and now he was stuck on the kitchen counter, covered in crisps and crumbs and excess spice powder.

“...uh..”

The tall blob of confusion looked at the orange boy. Yes, Remy was now officially orange. Those were spicy crisps! Honestly, if someone was able to pull off being covered in crisps, drunk out of their mind yet still look somewhat remotely attractive then it was Remy.

The hungry man giggled, his body vibrating and and shaking in amusement. The crisps travelled down, sliding off his clothes and down onto the counter.

“I am tasty!”, he cheered, arms stretched out and ready to hug and tackle the issue at hand, “look!”

The taller one of the lovers just shook his head and leaned in, snatching one off the crisps with his tongue and welcoming the spicy hot treat into the drooling cavern that was his mouth. A hum escaped his mouth and he nodded his head sagely.

“Very tasty”

The two giggled further, Virgil curling his tall posture into a slightly crooked “l” as he leaned closer to the counter. His hand grasped the edge and promptly encountered one of the lost crisps that cracked and broke on impact. A dying screech could be heard after the lethal contact. A few crumbs could be found on the inside of Virgil’s hand as he retreated his palm in the curiosity of an innocent child’s mind.

“huh..”, he observed wisely. His tongue leaped at the crumbs and he absorbed the piece of sustenance.

“We need to clean .. uh.. that”, he added after chewing on his food and eventually swallowing it down. His left vaguely gestured towards the mess of roasted potatoes decorating one of his datemate’s bodies.

It was a wondrous sight but would turn Emile into an upset little puppy rather than a happy and excited Golden Retriever. He did have the soft energy of one.

Remy nodded again. One of his hands bravely sneaked one of the crispy delights and rewarded his watering mouth with the taste of bell peppers.

“Ish gwood”

Virgil snorted.

“Em- uh.. We- we need to clean”, he reiterated, “we gotta clean.”

The smaller man suddenly shook, his body coming to life and more avalanche of crumbs suddenly breaking from Mount Remy and crashing down onto the kitchen counter with silent pitter-patter sounds. It was like raindrops but less liquid and more dry. More crunchy and crushing.

Satisfying.

“We! Uh, we can..ah- do uh.. um! Bowl! V! Get a bowl!”

The taller of the two broke away from his waiting stance and slowly descended to his knees to pick up a bowl. His mind comprehended the things a bit better by now. The alcohol might be fading or maybe the one bit of crisps was absorbing ALL his alcohol within him.

Or magic, obviously.

They got the crisps from the kitchen counter and off Remy right into the bowl which was then settled in Remy’s happy lap. He was welcoming and neighbourly to the bowl, hugged it and treated it right because he was proper and gentlemanly in his foggy mind.

Virgil looked at the bowl, full and rich with greasy little pieces of potatoes and a mix of spices.

“uh.. they um.. they will be bad”, he thought aloud and tapped against the bowl as he fished another bit out of it. His mouth was accepting the treat willingly and his stomach howled in anticipation. Only his mind was still twisting and turning and nothing made sense. Not that he minded too much. His body was warm and cozy and his thoughts seemed to fly. “we um.. should eat all.”

Remy hugged the bowl, his face immediately scrunching up in distaste.

“Food!”

The smaller man curled up, his legs moving up and his back hitting the wall as he pulled his knees up to his chest. The bowl was put between his chest and the knees.

His precious treasure.

“Ri, we... you are eating it. We will eat it”, Virgil compromised and reached out for the bowl but Remy hissed at him. The heart of a betrayed man was on his tongue as he scowled at the other and gently snuggled his little meal.

A soft puppy face spread over his facial features.

“We eat it..?”

His voice was softer than silk, the tone lowered to a plead. Virgil’s smile was soft and genuine when it appeared and settled on his features. He tried to mimic a similar level of gentleness with his voice and carefully brushed over the back of one of Ri’s hands that was grasping the bowl.

“We will eat it all. No throwing away.”

Remy smiled at him and nodded enthusiastically.

“We share!”

The two were calmly eating out the bowl, enjoying the greasy treat and Virgil allowed himself to lean into the counter and lay next to Remy. The latter eventually decided to be a good bean and switch the bowl with Virgil. Once one of his datemates was sprawled over his thighs, Remy brushed through the pastel pink hair tips of his love’s soft strands. The home dyejob was long ago and the colour was faded so much that the bleached hair slowly took over but Virgil seemed comfortable with a tuff of cotton candy as his hair.

He hummed.

“Food... V.. “, he commented and gently patted his head - earning a little gasp from the other in his state of mindless relaxation. “perfect”

Virgil giggled, the words of his Remy immediately prompting the response their datemate would usually add to it.

“Do you mean ‘purrfect’ ?”, the two inquired in unison before falling victim to their own giggles which soon consumed the incomplete throuple. They would both hear Em’s voice without him being around.

Remy softly nudged his love and Virgil let out a soft grumble. He decided to groan back and nudge again to insist on his wish that the tall boy move.

“We still need to cook, yanno”

Virgil giggled, wobbling on his feet with his wonky stand on the ground. He shifted his weight from one side to the other and moved like a wave to balance his uncertain steps.

“Heh.. cock”, he commented, intelligently so.

Remy joined his hilarious giggles and soon enough, the Virgil curled over the other, hugging him and vibrating in laughter as his smaller roommate shook and twitched in his soft snickers.

“C-cok..!”, Remy tried to correct yet failed as his breathless lungs swallowed half his sounds. Instead, his miserable attempt at setting things straight ended up in making the whole endeavour even gayer. “Co-..cockpfffffffffff”

Virgil shook his head, head red with laughter and euphoria as the words hit him and the meaning actually reached his mind. For some reason, repeating “cock” was amazing and his mind chanted it back at him, echoing the stuttered out attempts at saying “cook” that Remy produced with little success and much struggle.

“c-...”, Virgil laughed loudly, drawing back and wobbling onto his feet once more instead of blanketing his love with the abomination of his oddly large body, “co...cocc!!”

Remy had just composed himself to as much as breathe for a little second but the words Virgil threw into their version of a conversation quickly rekindled the fire of shrieking laughter and gasping snickers.

The two continued simply repeating each others miserable shots at saying “cook” a few more times, wild banter or unfinished words and breathless syllables were between them and filled the room with the warmth it was missing with their datemate still out. Heads grew hot and glowed in amusement at their stupid joke. Nothin could stop them but their horrible need to breathe after all.

They calmed down and their laughter died down.

Virgil decorated the floor, hugging the cool tiles with his warm tomato head as Remy patted the empty counter he sat on, his hand just mindlessly moving against it, stroking it ever so gently like a lover should be caressed. The tall boy was already half asleep as Remy’s hazy look wandered over the mess of a kitchen.

Crisps were still scattered wildly around the kitchen counter (mostly limited to where he was sitting) and even the floor. Cups, shots and little decorative umbrellas were clotting the sink and a few empty cans and bottles lined the side of the sink that did not have a drying rack. Even further, there were towels and napkins everywhere.. and more importantly, a pack of meat and a whole bottle of olive oil.

Why.. Oh, yes. The food.

His lethargic sight was enriched by the eventual addition of crisps creeping into his field of vision.

“V!!! V! The fooooood”

His words emphasised the food part. The significant part. Oddly enough, he could experience a moment of déjà vu yet without any recollection of similar events happening to him. Or happening at all.

The patch of pink and purple pastels was still on the floor but slowly, the legs within the pink yoga pants started stirring up.

He groaned again, feeling the déjà vu also but not being able to quite place it. The past minutes were lost on him. Virgil’s eyes blinked at the new day and new situation before him. Everything was fresh to his drunk mind and he nodded as he signaled he had heard his smaller lover.

He scratched his butt but made sure to flip himself over so he could see the other hovering over him on his divine place on the kitchen counter. Far above him, posing on the clouds of this mundane kitchen. The house’s own Cupid was shooting him glances of love and blinked in charm with his lovely eyelashes.

Virgil smiled up at the divine sight of his love. His sight was blurred by the pinkish veil of his hair that pretended to protect his lazy eyes from the longing lights in the kitchen that shone down onto him.

“Hey there, beauty~”

His smile grew into a little grin as he winked at the comfortable god.

“V you silly noodle~ “

Remy giggled back and curled into himself once more, by now fully laying on his kitchen cloud. His legs were slightly bent, the one pressed against the counter a bit more so than the one above it. One of his arms was supporting him as he leaned on its shoulder. The other arm was lazily draped over his rich middle.

His fingers traced hearts over the counter as he blinked into the pink madness of his little giant.

“What do you want, my love~?”

Virgil smirked up at his adorable master, a stupid happiness painting his facial features with a certain softness. Maybe it was just the fact half his face was covered in his bangs completely falling all over his eyes and even tickling his nubby nose.

The two gazed at one another, each a picture of the epitome of beauty to the other. They relished in the affection, the rosy vision and blurry flutters in their heart.

A noise could be heard. Remy blinked, awakening from the trance that was the spell of love his precious Virgil had cast on him with just his soft looks.

A rumble and grumble could be heard. A hollering and squeaking of demands and curses was thrown around - all coming from the hungry monster in Remy’s stomach. He looked down at it, a distant look in his eyes.

Confusion rolled in his mind but Virgil seemed to remember - or just suddenly have a little bit of understanding left in his mind. He blinked his eyes further open and patted the floor, gently stroking it before pulling himself together and sitting down properly.

“Riri, the f o o d!”, he told him and grabbed the counter to support himself in getting up. His tall body was soon hovering over the counter and gesturing towards the oil and meat once more. “We can cook the meat, man”

Remy nodded, rubbing his eyes. He carefully pushed himself into position once more and soon enough sat proudly on the counter, cheek a bit red from laying on the counter. He played with the sunglasses on top of his head and grabbed a nearby bottle. Taking a huge swig from it, he swallowed the acidic liquid.

His face immediately grimaced as his taste buds detected the different sensations coming at them and his reaction was immediate. The bitterness of alcohol, the intense burning of it down his throat made him scrunch up his facial features entirely. A fire was felt in his mouth but it was calmed by the abundance of sweetness mixed into their cocktail blend was finally reaching him. A taste of fruity freshness and the acidic undertone from lemons and limes washed the bitterness way and made him forget about the disgusting aftertaste of cheap vodka.

Ugh, who bought this shit anyway. It was one of the most widely-ruined alcoholic beverages on this planet and people just saw it as cheap ingredient for a sad cocktail in their plan to get smashed with as little money and effort as possible. Which he and Virgil did too, so he could not really judge that.

Virgil.. Virgil who was looking at him, head tilted and exposing his neck a bit. His pastel purple shirt around him was loosely hanging from him and barely covering his collarbone and general neck area.

The tall pastel boy reached for the bottle before Remy got to unscrew it and made sure to empty the rest into his big mouth. Remy just blinked at the other, shaking himself in disgust for a moment before he received the empty bottle in his hands and finally shut the holder of horribly disgusting sweetness.

“Good”, Virgil reviewed with a click of his tongue.

A pleased expression settled on his face and he looked like a peaceful statue of stone that would sit in some temples and parks.

Remy shook his head, his piercings clanging together with silent sound akin to jingling bells. The taller datemate cleared his throat again and pointed ta the stove.

“You gonna come.. come and uh.. help me cook?”, he asked softly as he looked at his lovely datemate. He was such a handsome piece of man. A fine man in black from head to toe, even his earrings and piercings were black (safe for the septum in silver than graced his lovely nose).

The smaller goth got down to the floor and quickly wrapped his arms around Virgil’s soft middle.

“mmmh”

Remy hummed and gently snuggled up to the walking softness that was one of his boyfriends. Sometimes he just realised that they had not touched in a while and it felt ridiculous.. wrong, in a way.

The closeness was remedying the little void in his touch-o-meter. He snuggled up to Virgil’s chest, hugging him close and simply enjoying how the embrace was returned. Virgil’s large arms folded around him, carefully holding him and shielding him from the touch-starved life without him. The taller one softly started rocking after he pressed a little smooch to the top of his head.

“Got you, Smalls”

Remy let out a sound of protest but stayed within the hold. No fight, no resistance. It was just cuddling softly, eyes closed and hearts opened as the warmth of affection lulled them in. Slowly, the weight in Virgil’s arms became more present, the pressure against his chest a little uncomfortable as Remy dozed off, falling against the tall pastel bean.

“ m nodt smahls”

His eyes fought to open again and he lethargically burdened himself with blinking at the other.

“Ssure not l-llove”, Virgil giggled in return and leaned down to hug more of his little lover.

Emile was still not with them and it was nagging at him.

“m!”, Virgil argued, pulling away from Remy at once, “We clan - can!Uh ... um.. Cook and and then be up um.. for uh.. for when Emile uh .. retwurns back uh .. home!” He bounced a bit in his spot and turned his attention back to the stove, quickly moving to put some oil into the pan he had put out before.

“He-he can eat th-the food and ...b..uh.. be proud of us!”

Virgil got on to it, totally absorbing himself in the magical art of fucking preparing food - a meal, even so. The only thing was that the whole process seemed a little lost on him. Once the oil was in and the stove started to heat up the pan along with the oil, he was a bit.. clueless and left to the devices of a person just as unknowledgable as a child. Or, well, a drunkass FULLY grown adult who does not understand life but is tall enough to eat BABIES.

Helplessly, he turned to Remy as the oil startd to change. It did not look just the same as before, there was something happening. There were small bubbles and it felt like some bride’s veil was just dropped in this shit and now everything was slowly whitish but in a really weird and odd blur. Holy fuck, it got more.

There was even more. They got more and more by the minute, soon enough covering the bottom of the whole pan and effectively taking over the oil.

Oh no. It was... It could not be!

This shit was fighting the oil.

“REMY”, Virgil yelled instinctively as he grabbed his smaller man and hugged him close, effectively trapping him in the sweet embrace of absolute and immediate anxiety edging on panic.

The smaller individual stared at the oil, the whitish bubbles in it and saw the sizzling, witnessed the soft little sounds, almost friendly enough to woe him into believing its innocence but he was smarter than that. He would not be fooled into falling for this cheap trick. He was a serious and super intelligent man. He was capable, strong, handsome, gay, hungry and even more fucking gay if he did not mention it before.

Nothing and nobody would or should ever mess with a Queen, a Diva like Remy.

Not even oil. No matter how tasty and delicious it seemed to be .. or smell. How did simple greasy shit already smell so aromatic? Honestly, this was peak restaurant ambient!

Remy held his tall boy and hissed back at the rude intruder.

“Oh, you -”, he challenged with the sudden flow of determination hitting him. The alcohol was driving into his bloodstream and fuelling his confidence to the point of proud idiocy.

He eyed the pan... quickly, he could realise the oil jumping at them, starting the fight, picking up weapons and hitting the first men!

“TAKE COVER!”

The malicious entity has chosen.. death. Ah, alright. Remy saw that. Remy understood.

He was a clever man.

He blinked, refreshing his mind and eyes at once. Within SECONDS - because he was a genius among mortals - he had calculated e v e r y t h i n g.

The oil was coming for them, launching missiles of little white bubbles and hot hard pain at them. It was seething, it was cruel and it was not the last word of blood and injury spoken between them. Remy predicted the attacks swiftly, his mind working overtime at the task of working out a plan as he threw himself against Virgil to dramatically shift them out of shooting range.

They needed to be safe from this evil monster, the ill-spirited being of oily disasters and compromised bubbles of seething, white rage.

“Virgil, Virgil we - “, he started, gasping his words out as if a terrible injury was keeping him from breathing and speaking properly, “we need to stop it!”

The long man nodded, gaze shifting from the monstrosity of oil he had unleashed and the alarmed face of Remy’s usually so calm features. He reminded him of a person at gym, you know, those fitness coaches that were really into physical exercise and they would push you to your limits so hard, you wanted to cry. Kinda. A weird cry of yes and no but it was no maybe, not really. Actually, it was not maybe at all.

It was weird and it was painfully feigned enthusiasm for self-torturing devices.

Wait, how did he - Oh yes, the oil.

“We, um.. uh .. stop it”, Virgil agreed.

A small tinge of regret stabbed him like the shady little bitch it was. Just a fucking little backstabber getting back at him - literally, pun not intended - when he least expected it, when he was exposed and vulnerable. Okay, he was always vulnerable.

Virgil waved his hand around as if to fan the danger away with his magical drunk powers of dummy-thiccness.

“We can distract it”, he slowly suggested, his voice slowing down significantly, “away from us.”

His hands were parallel to one another, as if to indicate a certain length that was the space between his hands. The palms faced one another and he moved the pair of hands from one side to another with an air of importance surrounding him.

Remy nodded with great authority.

“Amazing plan!”

He agreed with a cheer and stared back at the raging fireworks of oil bullets littering the kitchen with greasy spots and defacing destructing. The situation got out of hand, slowly but surely so.

Burning olives could be smelled. They were the souls of the dead, the fallen and forgotten. Their sacrifice would not be for nothing, it would not be dismissed as collateral damage.

Virgil dashed forward, running straight through the shower of oily precipitation raining down on him, his vulnerable pastel soft self. He screamed, screeched and cried in battle demeanour and aggressively threw his head back to face his opponent.

“I will take it from here!”

Virgil stared at the pan, the drawer underneath it heavily attacked by the angrily steaming monster. It was where all the lids were.

“Ri!”, the pastel baby called through the loud hissing and shrieking of the raging dumpsterfire that was hot and burning oil, “You go bash that meat into this shit”

Virgil swallowed hard, the words on his tongue too much for him to comprehend, tears forming in his eyes as he came to terms with what he was about to announce. “I will go get the lid and shut this fucker up”

Silence.

When radios or TV channels hit an error, there was that weird static sound, somewhat intense and monotone but persistent. It was this kind of sound that seemed to dominate the battlefield the oily savage had forced upon this kitchen. Their kitchen..... It would pay for it.

Remy’s beautiful face of love and darkness was derailing into a shocked movement of mouthing protests, proposing empty alternatives to the plan. Virgil shook his head decidedly, not even paying mind to the multiple Remys before him.

It was just an oil job. That shit had messed with their kitchen enough but it would not mess any further with him and one of his dear beloved ones.

He looked down at his arms, spots of burned skin meeting his vision. Future scars of the heroic action he was about to complete. There was flesh missing in his mind, in this kitchen. It was lost like the comrades they had forever missed in battle. The salt shaker, the cocktail glass... The little spoon with sugar crystals still on and around it. They had fallen and they were to never return.

The two engaged in eye contact for a moment lasting longer than a heart’s eternity. Their eyes longingly connected, just a bit, only a second.

Remy gulps down his hesitation and fear. While the oily giant was harmless at first, it was fear-inducing and absolutely horrifying by now. It was teaching them the lessons of obedience and pain - the hard way. Their hearts knew love from each other but they also felt the terror blown into them by the horrific enemy rising in their kitchen.

Virgil nods.

The time has come.

The nod was slow, an exaggerated movement in order to make sure Remy would not miss it. Compared to the following actions, it was basically slow motion. Then, everything happened at once, happened in quick succession and happened incredibly so.

Remy dashed forward to the meat and just flung it right into the pan at once while Virgil slid all over the floor to the drawer and Pulle out a lid just to immediately smash it on top of the pan, covering up the oily mess and saving them from the dictatorship or violence and hatred.

Just like that it was over, they counted their wounds and embraced each other as shivers and memories crawled up their spines. They knew what have been through and they wouldn't be able to just live it down. It would stay.

The raging fire of the defeated oil could still be heard but it was contained at last, it was not out there to hurt them anymore. they were safe and sound in each other's arms. Remy squeezed the pastel blob in his arms, the slightly taller male wincing at the friction and pressure against his wounded skin. His exposed arms smelled like burned meat.

Or maybe it was just the actual minced meat cooking in the pan. They didn't know.

The sage hand turned down the heat of the stove and Virgil gently nuzzled his boyfriend's neck, his fine face quickly hidden in the collar of Remy's black jacket. Not even at home was the place for Remy to take it off. He was more comfortable in it and he absolutely was right in just how stunning and badass he looked with it decorating his biceps.

Virgil gently dove deeper into the embrace and just sighed, softly mumbling nice things, little praises and compliments for his beloved datemate. The other carefully reassured him, told him he was proud and that it was over.

The oil was still angrily boiling and loudly seizing the meat inside.

Remy carefully nudged his love and have his cheek a little smooch.

"We did it" he concluded and gently squeezed his hands. Virgil nodded, lips curved up and humming in affirmation. "You're a brave one, Rem", he shot back.

The addressed man let out a small sound, something akin to a groan. His cheeks were dusted in red feathery delight of a warm blush. He gently shook his head and peppered a few more kisses all over Virgil's scarred face.

"No, you", he softly countered.

Virgil giggled and shook his head as he pulled away and turned to the food. The smell of cooked meat was reaching up to their nostrils, spoiling and temping them with the luxurious scent of a promising meal.

His stomach rumbled in anticipation.

"Cheese?"

Remy tilted his head as he carefully pushed Virgil out of the way to stir the food without getting hurt. Even with some oil spilling around and shooting into his direction, the jacket protected him. Virgil's soft appearance wasn't covered up enough for him to be safe from the deathly syringes of oil doses. He got the hint and stumbled around to get his jacket. Emile and Remy had hade it for him.

He loved it so much.

"Yes, cheese. Of course"

The two, now oddly sober, cuddled up before the stove and got into the whole cooking process.

Virgil got cups of actual water for them at last and they both drank this. They didn't feel ask dizzy and odd anymore, nor just focused and immersed in the idea of eating food. The smell really did it to them.

Virgil had added some spices and Remy sneaked some more crisps into his mouth, occasionally feeding some to his beloved soulmate. Well, one of them.

He softly rests his head against Virgil's shoulder as he stirred cut tomatoes into the mix. Some herbs and beans were added by Virgil at this moment.

Who would have thought they would eventually get to make food at all? They certainly believed in it, during the times when they actually remembered wanting to make food.

The pastel pal snuggled up to Remy, leaning against the much stronger one and simply dozing to the delicious smell of probably just slightly burned food. Remy nudged his datemate to the couch to doze a bit. Virgil was hugging a bundle of blankets rather than covering himself up. He looked ready for more hugs as he silently whimpered for Ri to give up on the food and just cuddle him.

Meanwhile, Remy mixed grated cheese under the food and added fresh lettuce like the genius he was. His mind was young, hungry and drunk but he was also wild and free. Especially free of logic. The emptied cans were cluttered all over the kitchen and barely any space was left unoccupied from the drunk ramblings of idiot amateur cooks.

Towels, trash, cutlery and plates were all over the place, some cutting boards adding to the mix and obviously many bottles and cups. The oily mess all over the counters and the floor wasn't even spoken of at this point. There were still so many other stains in the usually so clean and tidied up kitchen. Usually, Remy would take care of cleaning the kitchen, keeping it neat and clear at all costs but right now, he was not in the mindset. He was drooling over the food the had made. It was probably way past midnight, yet he was focused on the food.

The steaming hot goddess was lazily falling from his big cooking spoons as he stirred and mixed stringy cheese into the mix of spices and meat and so so many tomatoes. Considering their state, they could have cooked worse food. The heaps of reddish "stew" heavily fell back into the pot. By now the strings of molten cheese were drawing lines and twirl through the wonderful creation.

Oregano tickled his nose.

He got a big bowl and basically spilled 80% of the stuff into it. The bowl greedily absorbed the food, taking it in and deliciously spreading itself with the tempting smell and sight. in Remy's mind, he had halved the whole drunk masterpiece of smells and tastes but reality didn't exactly reflect his beliefs accordingly.

He didn't mind the few bits of mashed-up food staining the sides around the bowl. Not that the kitchen was suddenly turned into a worse mess by this. It wasn't a significant addition but rather the cherry on top of a true mess.

Anyhow, the food was done and ready to feed them. He got three spoons in all his laziness and wobble his tickling legs into the living room with his love. Emile would be bs ck soon and he would be able to eat with them and enjoy it along with them. It was just a matter of minutes, right?

The goth popped up next to Virgil, dropping the bowl on the table with the flattering spoons clashing onto the glass table in front of them. Virgil was curled up in his corner, stubbornly and lovingly hugging the pile of pink blankets. They had a rose pattern all over them. As much as Remy adored seeing the contrast of Virgil's mostly white and pastel pink appearance with the more intense rose colour and the floral patterns. Green and reddish hues seemed so stark and radical next to the soft colour scheme that he presented with his peaceful figure of a dozing drunk cuddlebug. Still, the knowledge this used to be a gift his ex had given him didn't sit right with him. Not exactly, at least.

Remy nudged him.

"Love, the food is done", he gently reminded him, him voice pressing against its ground and keeping it as low. It was a ducked down figure in a dark corridor at night when everyone was asleep but the little figure that was the voice.

"huhmm", the pastel punk mumbled softly and stirred ever so slightly, his curled up body opening up for Remy to fill his arms rather than the blanket. His halfway covered face was more visible by now since he tilted it a bit.

Remy smiled a tad.

"Come over love", he invited gently and patted his lap as he brushed over Virgil's arched back with his other hand. "mwmm"

Remy hummed back in return.

The pastel bean shifted over into his boyfriend's lap, resting himself in it with the upper half of his body as he curled up on the new space, now with his arms loosely wrapped around nothing but the love between them.

He felt Remy brush one hand through his dyed hair and his lungs immediately relieved a breath which came out in the form of a sigh. The smaller of the two giggled.

He hummed.

''You slee..sleeby..?'', he asked softly, his voice ending in a low hum.

Thoughts and words were mentally swirling around like noodles in a nostalgic childhood soup. You know – the ones with noodle letters in it. They were aimlessly whooshing from side to side, queerly dancing in an uncertain rhythm with uncoordinated movements guiding them into the unknown. Neither Virgil nor Remy were ready to bring order into the mess of lost letters and unconnected pieces.

There was some sense between them when Virgil basically purred under the ghastly touches, these bare fingers gracing his skull and caressing his pounding head. The tall man curled up into a ball, reaching out to lazily grab one of the hands Remy needed to keep around him somewhere. In his hazy state of mind, Virgil just somewhat expected a random Remy-hand to float around before him because surely the hand to touch him was in front of him .. logically. Yes, he totally deduced that by means of not looking around because his eyes were so heavy with the pleasure of being touched so delicately, the satisfaction of being handled with great care as if he was a fragile glass of thin sugar – just a moment about to break apart, melt away or dissolve into sugary water.

Sadly, his extremely intense and complex calculations turned out to be – surprisingly – wrong after all, leaving Virgil wondering just how he ended up with an empty handful of nothing but all the needs for more body contact he had harboured in it before his attempt at catching more of at least one of his beloved datemates. Involuntarily, he let out a sound of disagreement, a sort of angry hamster sound.

His hand fell over Remy's lap, simply collapsing over it with the sound of frustration and slight anger accompanying the dramatic fall of his unmotivated limb. Virgil instinctively curled further into his fetal position as Remy tried his best to conceal the chuckle rumbling up from within his chest.

He was trembling with amusement but, picking up on the distressed Virgil-sounds, he reminded himself to maintain at least a small amount of countenance in order to not repeatedly poke his sensitivities. The goth was not making fun of him after all or finding his distress to be somewhat entertaining at all. His drunk brain just... short-circuited at how adorable yet odd his lovely idiot sounded when he randomly stretched out his arm just to immediately let it flop down onto his lap and just groan at it as if moving was the worst punishment to ever happen to him.

Virgil's hands were already working up to his hood, confused finger tips tugging at it and letting it clumsily slip through them because fabric was so hard to hold onto. His uncoordinated grip on them caused him to lose his motion many times as Remy leaned back to give him the space he needed to curl his fingers around the hem of his hood. He squealed and screeched in anger at the exhaustive process of getting this right.

Eventually, though, he got his fingers tightly buried in the hood, knuckles turning white as his tired kind just moved his head along with motioning the hood to lower over his head and prevent the access Remy's gentle fingers used to have to his soft hair.

''Oh, darling, nu'', Remy tried softly, his voice attempting to reach out to the closed off taller bean before him. ''Hey there, lil' coff'he bean''

He poked around, carefully searching to reach the long nose in the excess of fabric that stretched over a great part of Virgil's face. It averted itself when Remy fianlly got around to brush against his nose.

''Nu'', he spat out at once, his hands trying to pull the blanket over him as well.

Remy patted his head but the so-called ''coffee bean'' was retreating and hissing at him.

''Com'on, my coff' bean'', he cooed once more, his voice softly sneaking into Virgil's mind, into his heart. Slowly and surely, it got around to actually stop his fingers from pawing at the damned blanket. This cursed stupid pink fabric with its silly roses and vines all over it.

...M.. Shtupid.. roses.. n stupid ''Princey'' guy.. This was their Virg. Theirs only.

Remy kept himself from narrowing his eyes at the enemy. There was no time to be jealous when his little bean curled away from him. This was worse heartache to him than a past lover he and Emile had clearly helped Virgil get over. He nudged him again and the pastel ball returned another hazy noise in reply. It sounded much like a stubborn ''nu-uh!''

''I didn ..laugh about yu, my dear'' He cleared his throat and rubbed his eyes patiently. '' 'm just laughed b'cuz ..am so hap-...happ...happy to be wif..wiff you-you'', he started, a little hiccup interrupting him, ''and to see you“

Another hiccup rudely disrupted his flow of speech.

''in mah lap, hun.''

The charcoal-clad man nudged his love's cheek tentatively, barely managing to draw a response from him. ''mmm.... mean'', he retorted insistently.

''Virgiiiiiiiiiiiil'', he whined at once, ''I made fuuuuuuud!'' He inhaled deeply, sitting a moment for the dramatic effect. Or really, he was just waiting because his mind drew a blank on whatever else he had intended to say at some point in time. Uh.. he had made food.. there was food and he was with Virgil and he made the fud for him and Emi and.. uh..

Ah! Yes!

Remy blinked excitedly and nodded to himself, congratulating his genius of a mind that suddenly recovered the thought process lost to the alcohol dampening and slowing down his cognition. He leaned in, bowing deep over the protesting bundle of purple and black. From the lack of words, he wanted to think that Virgil was dozing off and forgetting about the little misunderstanding between them.

''If yu... wan...nn..wanna'', he slowly suggested, ''I can.. feeed you-hoooo''

Virgil slowly blinked, his eyelids breaking open to reveal his dark embers of small orbs.

''Mh?'', he murmured. His head pushed back to Remy's lap and quickly nudged his chubby stomach with careful, uncoordinated movements of a person not just anything but sober but also sleepy and full of feelings.

He tasted love on his lips and gently brushed his tongue over them. ''Ri'', he demanded, voice soft with sleep and heavy in the exhaustion from fighting to stay awake, stay conscious and mindful of his surrounding enough to understand his present datemate at least.

The addressed man patted his hooded head softly.

''Com’up'', he mumbled back and tugged at the sleepy giant in his lap. Virgil was soon sagged against Remy but at least sitting. His left still fruitlessly brushed over Remy's lap.

Hug... He.. He wanted a hug.. Hug.. Hug Remy.

''Riiii'', he soothed softly, voice still just a whisper if any. The goth drew an arm around him and pulled him closer against his shoulder. ''M here, hon'', he assured patiently, mind already wondering just what they were doing again, '' gotcha close.''

He nuzzled the top of his head and carefully left a not of his love on it with a little peck.

Virgil snuggled up to him, his body fitting just perfectly to his side. They were a perfect match, all that was missing was a bit of food now. And a bit of Emile, of course. Emi would make it all perfect. Remy drew him closer and simply let them hug one another for a bit longer. More like waiting for Virgil to slowly gather up his energy and bodily control to eventually embrace the other fully and just rest in each other's love.

The taller one hummed against his collarbone, eyes comfortably closed in contentment.

''You said.. fud..?''

Remy laughed.

''Yeah''

*** The night draped over the village, hugging every little building and lamp post for comfort and love as it lovingly warmed everyone into a world of dreams and happy thoughts. It was the end of the day, it was late and actually almost time for yet another day.

Emile rubbed his eyes, keys to his car jingling in his hands as he approached the door. He had never expected a catch-up to take this long but the afternoon just spun further and further into a late evening and eventually, they had switched locations in order to extend their get-together beyond the point of midnight.

Any texts of updating information to his lovers had been to no avail. Emile thought they were having too much of a good time or perhaps even went to sleep when 3 am had arrived. He did not know how they were doing but he trusted them to be fine, to relish in just being two chaotic yet lovely cryptids together.

He straightened out his dark blue suit and ran a hand through the strawberry blonde mess of formerly gelled-back hair.

His hands worked to unlock the door and once he stepped inside, he shut the door behind him. At once, a certain.. smell hit his nostrils.

He was not sure what it was but it was obvious that the flat had not been aired out properly. The air was thick enough to try and grab a piece out of it. And the scent? It reminded him of a greasy fast-food truck. If he had to guess, maybe something like chilli cheese hot-dogs? He was not sure but there was something spicy in the hair.

It kinda stung.

Emile blinked and switched on the light, quickly taking off his dark overcoat and the first layer of his suit along with his dress shoes. He was left standing in his vest that was hugging his firm statue, accentuating each and every part of his muscular body.

A part of him wanted to call out for his beloved ones but he knew them, he knew the partying souls living in the calm giant that was the pastel-soft Virgil. He was more than familiar with the outgoing and extra kind of behaviour Remy would display with just a bit of party around or in him. He did not intend to torture them with loud noises when he knew they were wild spirits just waiting to run free and roam around without any constraints. They deserved to rest well after partying hard, to be honest.

Emile slowly moved into the bedroom just to find it .. void of the silent snores and little shuffles that came from the drunk sleep of his beloved mates. Instead, there was nothing and he simply frowned at the empty bed. The bed was made, still so it was obviously untouched. Nothing had happened here and none of his lovers happened here for sure.

A part of him wanted to call out for them by now but something held him back. This something was lingering within him as he peacefully stripped his body off the suit and changed into his pyjamas. When he came across his phone, he decided to tap their contacts and just call one of them and then the other, just in case they went out and one did not pick up at first. With the two being tipsy or even drunk, there was no knowing for sure.

He put the phone on speaker and got into his flannel PJs.

Toot.

Toot..

Faintly, somewhere, he could hear something. At first it was so distant and weak, he nearly overheard it, due to the sound of his pyjama stretching over his body being louder than the faint tone in the background. However, once he stilled his movements and stopped dead in his tracks, he was able to identify a sound - even the nature of it.

“I’m on the battlefield like OH MY GOD”

It was Remy’s ringtone.

“Yes, I’m a one woman army”

Emile blinked, the song now clear as day in his mind as he finally identified the muffled sounds. He picked up his phone, fingers flying to grip it and shut the loudspeaker.

“oh la la, oh la la ~”

The song was indicating him to come closer, luring him in and playing hint for his curiosity. The mind was working as he took it step by step through the dark apartment. The end of his pants were dragging over the floor as he sneaked over the ground, his feet merely separating from it with every step he took. His feet ate every bit of sound as he walked, progressing at a speed so slow and cautious, he felt as if he was walking on eggshells rather than the socks Remy had made him by hand.

The sound was getting closer, the persistent, cocky voicelines of the singer were shooting through his mind as he carefully approached the scene. Before him was the darkness leading up to the kitchen. The light from their bedroom was illuminating his way to it.

With a usual movement as if everything was as it used to be, as if there had never been a war and losses in this field of tragedy and blood, Emile switched on the lights and revealed the graveyard of oil and hopes.

The sight was quite a bit- Pans and pots were stacked on top of one another. Spread over a turned off stove and the abused sink who witnessed it all. Stains of any kind seemed to repaint the counter, floor and partly even the ... the ceiling? How did they do that! Unbeknownst to Emile, the horrors of battle drew consequences nobody would be able to imagine. Of course it would paint the world into a new picture, it would change reality and distort beauty into true abominations of cruelty.

There was a bloody puddle of oil on the floor, a pool of death juice tainting the world of the living with what used to be, what used to exist and live and grow. It was no more.

He slowly, respectfully stepped forward, deeper into the red flags of the forbidden zone. There was desolation and chaos. Cutlery, foods and spills whatever in any place and spot free enough to accommodate it. His feet slowed as he progressed further into the field of war, the area of missing people and lost souls.

He walked through the mess, skipping over dead utensils and empty packages. There were bottle caps all around and the worst was little glitter particles and sparkles all around. Maybe they had mixed drinks with glitter. In the context of the battlefield, it looked like the luck and happiness that used to wield yet now it was broken and scattered in the wind of change, the breeze of ends.

Emile watched the drain in horror as he identified tiny pieces of fruit stuck in it. Cocktail cherry bodies blocking the water from ever flowing into the sweet relief of the sewers. It was forever trapped in the sink along with the dying cutlery.

He strove through the devastated lands, through the chaos and destruction. His eyes did not see the past, did not see the struggle to stay alive - to be safe. He was blessed with the ignorance of arriving fashionably late to the scene and just luckily skip out on all the war. He never had to experience the torture of the oil giant. Emile did not even realise how much of a chosen man he was with the entitlement of being spared with mercy and love.

His innocent soul floated above the rotten land, the stabbed and wretched floors and towels soaked with tears, blood and sweat. The salt of ruined soil was poisoning the roots of a new generation. He simply skipped through it, free of guilt or memories. He was not drawn to the tragedy of what used to be. Instead, he marched over to the living-room to finally find the treasure he had been looking for. His flannel-clad self, the pirate of the suffering lands was here to take advantage of the tired soldiers of oil wars.

As unexpected, there was a bundle of black and a bundle of rose snuggled up together, the colours weirdly merging into one fusion of softness. The pattern of roses naturally fit the blackness it was curled up around. It seemed like the most natural occurrence, a home-grown batch of adorableness. Emile blinked, his eyes behind his glasses still needing to adjust to the dark image before him. It was dark because he refused to switch on the lights when his loves could and actually did camp in this space.

“You two are lucky I love you so much”

His whisper slowly weighed down onto them, gracing them in their sleep and rocking them in warmth and affection. They were in the lap of love and safety, dressed in their own schemes and shenanigans with contentment painting their features and highlighting their position with lazy sparkles and soft contact to one another.

Emile bowed over them to draw another blanket over the two, just to make sure to cover them both in the warm coziness they deserved.

For another short moment, he relished in seeing the two embracing one another, Virgil curled against Remy and holding him so close, he would usually fear the other could suffocate - yet he knew better than to worry about them. Remy enjoyed a surprisingly large amount of squishing and a comparably lousy amount of space for sleeping.

After this, he slowly and softly walked away, step by step, back to the bedroom to nap on his own, all alone in their big big bed. He snuggled up with his excess of blankets and soon enough fell into a deep sleep, completely unbothered by everything that used to be and will be. For now, everything was different and so cool compared to how it would be per default but that did not mean his night could not be nice. Relieving dreams soon settled in his mind, abandoning all possible worries in his mind.

Morning was soon to come.

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feministshawnmendes · 5 years

Text

Coffee & Flowers - PT. 2

“He’d had the butterflies, the warmth in his belly, the feeling of holding onto star dust that tickled the tips of his fingers and the bottoms of his feet. But he’d never felt it all so quickly, so naturally”

A/N - Here’s a little playlist of some of the songs I listened to while writing this if you want to listen as you read. roses & sunflowers - timmy albert. easy - mac ayres. break my heart right - james bay. dried blood - corey harper.

* I accidentally deleted this while trying to edit it so my dumb-ass is uploading it aaaaagain. i stay drinking dumb bitch juice i guess. I’m sorry

Part one

____

She expected to run into him eventually. She just figured it’d be somewhere else. Somewhere more crowded where she could say hi quickly or even just wave and slip away in a rush. But she’s not so fortunate and she can’t help but wonder if God’s playing some kind of joke on her, seeing him for the first time in nearly a year in a coffee shop feels like too much of a coincidence. Of course, he draws a crowd as eager fans congregate and watch him from across the street through the large glass windows. He glides in like he always does, a smile playing on his face, his cheeks pink from the cold air. He looks good. He always does. He’s wearing a cozy looking black sweater and a black scarf, his hair perfectly put together. Of all the coffee shops for Shawn to stop in, she can’t believe he walked into the same one.

Her cheeks instantly burn and her breath quickens as she looks down at the coffee in front of her, trying to figure out if she can plot a quick and sneaky escape. But it’s too late. Her eyes lift up and as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, his eyes meet hers. She doesn’t ignore the way her stomach fills with a pang, her throat tightening. Shawn’s smile falters, his eyes narrowing as his brain tries to process what’s happening. Of all the places he thought he could run into her, this tiny coffee shop in the middle of New York would not have been his first guess. Of course, the very sight of her sparks a flutter in his chest and he can’t seem to will his brain to do anything besides stare at her, his heart racing. She looks perfect, like always. Her hair’s pulled back in a low ponytail and she’s bundled up in a black knit sweater and grey scarf.

“Holy shit! Y/n???” Brian bellows, his mouth open in shock as he spots her from across the room, pulling Shawn out of the trance he’s in. Before Shawn can stop him from causing too much of a commotion, Brian practically bolts towards y/n, who now has a bright smile plastered across her face as she watches Brian move towards her. She gets up from the seat she’s in, laughing as Brian rushes towards her. He scoops her up into a death grip of a hug once he reaches her, holding her as close as possible.

“Nice to see you too, b” She laughs as he pulls away from her and holds her at arm's length, a huge smile spread onto his face. She shakes her head and laughs again as he gives her another hug.

“It’s been forever. I can break your one hug rule, eh?”

“Of course,” she chuckles, patting his back as she pulls away from him. She gulps nervously as her eyes shift and she notices Shawn and Andrew whispering to each other, both of them looking in her direction. She can’t believe it’s been over a year. Can’t believe that he’s only a few feet away from her, pressing his lips together and shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans as he stays in line with Andrew.

“I missed you, dude!” Brian says excitedly, patting y/n’s shoulder and pulling her into a side hug. “Team’s not the same without you”

“Mmm I’m sure it is though,” She smiles, setting her hand on Brian’s back and giving him a friendly pat.

“No it really isn’t,” He says as he pulls away. “We all miss you so much. Shawn really misses you. He won’t admit it but..”

She nods, smiling but letting her smile fall as she nervously pulls down the sleeves of her sweater. She figured Shawn told Brian about what happened between them. She would have been surprised if he hadn’t, especially because she had left so quickly without really much of an answer or explanation. Still, she can’t help but wonder what he told everyone. What he told Brian. Obviously nothing that made her look bad even though what she did wasn’t her best moment. But of course he didn’t say anything bad. It was Shawn.

“Did Shawn tell you what happened?” She asks even though asking goes against her better judgement. Brian nods lightly, a small smile on his face.

“Yeah,” He says slowly. “Well...he filled me in on the basics.”

“B, I didn’t-“ She starts, feeling her eyes sting but Brian shakes his head and cuts her off.

“It’s okay. Tell me about your new job!” He quickly changes the subject, making her smile return to her face. Her eyes travel back over to where Shawn and Andrew are, both of them grabbing their coffees that have been quickly made. Shawn lifts his head to take a drink, his eyes meeting hers. She quickly looks away, letting out a heavy sigh as she refocuses her attention on Brian, who has an excited smile on his face still. “It looks like you’re killing it from what I’ve see on Instagram. Vogue?? That’s crazy!”

“Yeah,” She breathes airily, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s exhausting and so much work but I love it. I love writing.”

“Have any model friends who are single?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, making her laugh loudly as she shakes her head.

“Oh my god,” She laughs, noticing Shawn and Andrew are looking in their direction, Shawn’s dark eyes locked with y/n’s as they move closer to where her and Brian are standing. She can’t help but think about how stupid she was. How she’d hurt him so he didn’t hurt her. How she’d left with as vague a reason as she could think of. Her reason for leaving was true but it was also an excuse for her to run. She was scared. Scared how after she’d left his arms that night, after he’d kissed her one last time, how good it felt for mere minutes before the same feelings of loneliness crept back in. Watching him walk over towards her feels dramatic in every way and she hates it. She hates how it makes her feel small and unsure to feel his eyes on her. She hates how predictable it is that she’s trying not to cry and trying to hold it all together like always. She hates how when he’s in front of her, a bright but forced smile working it’s way onto his lips, she can’t do much besides try to steady her breathing that has quickened drastically, her chest tightening.

“Hey honey,” He says smoothly, his eyes dancing across her face as she smiles gently, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Hey it’s good to see you two,” she says gently, smiling at Andrew who pulls her into a side hug, squeezing her lightly.

“We miss you so much, y/n” He says as she smiles up at him, a smile of his own on his face. “I’m so proud of you. I’ve read your stuff for Vogue. It’s amazing. The article you did with Kanye was awesome”

“Wow thanks, Andrew” she breaths, her cheeks becoming warm as she feels Shawn’s eyes on her still. She notices how he doesn’t hug her. How his eyes are glued to her but how he keeps his distance, standing behind Brian, his grip tight on his coffee cup. She was hurt. She didn’t want to pretend like she wasn’t but as she watched his eyes fall down as he rubbed the back of his neck, she knew he was trying to pretend like he wasn’t hurt too.

“Thank you for being a reference for me by the way,” She smiles. “It means a lot. I feel like I wouldn’t have gotten the job without you.”

“Don’t say that,” he laughs, shaking his head dismissively. “It helps to have connections but you’re amazing. You got the job because you work hard and are good at what you do.”

“Thanks that’s sweet, really” She breaths “What are you guys doing here by the way? In New York I mean?”

“Doing a couple press things and then spending some time in the studio,” Brian answers, trying to nudge Shawn as slyly as possible, y/n’s attentive eyes catching the small interaction. Shawn lets out a large breath, lifting his head and nodding as he gives a tight lipped smile. Y/n doesn’t pretend to be okay with how cold he was being, her stare equally as cold as she looks back at him. She’d grown tired of always pretending and she’d happily exchange pleasantries but she wasn’t willing to pretend like she wasn’t hurt. Shawn’s cold eyes gaze deep into hers and she wants to try to explain herself but she also knows he isn’t entitled to know everything. Yes she’d hurt him and yes she’d made a spur of the moment decision but she did it for herself and she was happy now. She had hoped he’d be able to see that and that seeing her happy might be enough but apparently she was wrong.

“Fun,” she nods. “Are you just staying for the night?”

“Shawn wanted to stay in Brooklyn for a couple of days but we’ll see,” Andrew smiles.

“Well if you need any restaurant or coffee recommendations let me know,” y/n replies.

“I’ll text you if we stay!” Brian chirps happily, Shawn’s jaw clenching as he shook his head and wet his lips. Y/n’s throat tightened and her breath stuttered as she nodded. “Maybe we could meet up and hang out or something”

“Yeah for sure,” She answers, knowing that Shawn would never let that happen.

“We should probably get going but it was so good to see you, y/n. Let me know if you ever need anything, yeah? Don’t be a stranger,,” Andrew smiles, y/n nodding quickly before he pulled her into a hug, Brian doing the same thing shortly after.

He’d been keeping up with her social media as much as he hated to admit it. It wasn’t like he was going out of his way to look at what she was doing but he also wasn’t trying to ignore her like maybe he should have. He’d known she was working at Vogue. Knew she was writing. He’d read her words, despite his better judgement, wondering how she could string sentences together like it was the easiest thing in the world. She was an amazing writer, making him that much madder at her. It seemed like she was good at everything. Like everything but feeling came naturally to her. He’d seen her on social media but being close to her for the first time in so long, seeing her hurt expression as he closed himself off to her, made him contemplate the choices he’d made after she’d left. It made him wish he’d said something or done something differently. Watching her blink at him, an uneasy smile on her face makes him think about how she’d kissed him. How she’d wrapped her fingers around his wrists and kissed the tattoos that covered his skin. She’d made him feel good and warm and less alone and then she’d left.

Before she can comprehend what’s happening Shawn mumbles a goodbye to her, pausing as Andrew and Brian depart to join the rest of his team that’s waiting for them by the door. He looks at her, feeling like he’s inhaling hot air as his entire body heats up as she smiles at him and tilts her head, her eyes soft and a strand of hair falling down her face. He can’t stop the way his cheeks turn rosy and before he can convince himself not to, he’s right in front of her, his large hand sliding onto her waist and making her lips part as his breath hitches and his hands shake and his heart races. She doesn’t say anything as he presses his lips against her cheek, his touch lighting her entire body on fire, sending her reeling as he pulls away. His hand is still on her waist and she notices the way his Adam’s apple moves up and down along his throat as he gulps. She sucks in a large breath as he looks at her for a split second before he mumbles another goodbye and moves away from her.

She’s still reeling from feeling his lips pressed against her skin, the places he’d touched her still burning as he exits quickly with his team. Her feet carry her back to her spot and she stares at the cup of coffee in front of her for longer than she thinks is probably normal. Feeling him sent her back to that night. Back to the night her boss had kissed her. It was wrong and completely unprofessional but she hadn’t cared. She’d let him do it and she had gladly kissed him back. As she takes a sip of her coffee she remembers how she’d asked him to stay with her, to just hold her for a little bit. He’d pulled her close, their legs tangled together. His skin against hers was so warm. She’d remembered how safe she felt. How comfortable it felt to feel his heavy breathing in her ear as she traced the tattoos on his skin. He’d kissed her so many times, pressing his lips against the back of her ear, kissing her fingers, letting his mouth press sweet kisses against her cheeks. She’d fucked it all up.

They’d only kissed and held each other, their bodies wrapped together as they mindlessly watched tv in y/n’s hotel room. She was the one who had asked him to keep her company and he’d happily obliged, kissing her and pulling her close as they hid away in her room. It all felt good and warm, a much needed change of pace from their regular routine. She’d gotten used to saying goodnight to him before going to her room by herself, trying to make herself not feel lonely as she scrolled aimlessly through Instagram and Twitter. He’d go back to his room and do the same thing, wondering if he’d feel less lonely if he had someone to love. Finally feeling a warm body pressed against his felt good, her fingers dancing across his face as she smiled up at him.

“I’m tired,” she whispered, her chin pressed against his chest as his fingers brushed through her hair. He smiled down at her as she lifted herself up slightly, moving closer to him as his hand fell from her hair. He hummed lightly as her leg slid against his as she snuggled deeper into him, her cheek pressing against his chest as she rubbed her face against the soft fabric of his shirt, a soft smile lighting up her face. He laughed, letting out a content sigh as she looked back up at him. His heart fluttered and she sucked the breath out of him just by looking at him, her thumb tracing patterns absentmindedly on his chest. Being with her had surprised him and had set off a fire inside his gut and had lit a warmth inside his chest, one that he’d grown addicted to in just a matter of hours.

He’d felt this way about people before, his stomach churning as she whispered something underneath her breath as she sat up a little and leaned into him, her soft lips pressing against his. He’d had the butterflies, the warmth in his belly, the feeling of holding onto star dust that tickled the tips of his fingers and the bottoms of his feet. But he’d never felt it all so quickly, so naturally. He knew he shouldn’t have felt it like he did. He barely knew anything about y/n. At least, not the way he wanted to. He wanted to hold her, to know what was going on in her head. He wanted to be let in on her secrets, make her feel okay.

“Did you hear me?” She laughed, pulling away from him and sitting up in her bed. Shawn groaned, shaking his head as he hid his rosy cheeks, burying his face in her lap as he wrapped his arms around her waist. She raked her fingers through his curls, smiling down at him as he buried himself deeper into her lap. “Shawn you eventually have to go to your own room.”

“Why?” He whined, clinging tighter to y/n which just made her shake her head.

“Because we’re traveling tomorrow and you have a show. You needa rest,” she said gently, a smile still resting on her face as he groaned and pulled away from her, sitting up next to her and crossing his arms over his chest like a child. She rolled her eyes, brushing a hand through her messy hair as she pushed herself off the bed. Shawn let out another groan as she walked over to where he was, grabbing onto his wrists and trying to will his large limbs to move as she tugged on his arms with all the force she could conjure up. She groaned as he smiled smugly at her, her forehead creasing as she yanked his arms towards her.

“Shawn come on,” She grunted, making him laugh as she tried with everything she had to get him to budge.

“Only if you can make me” He said with a teasing smile.

“Shawn!” She exclaimed with another tug, huffing angrily as she failed miserably. She jutted out her bottom lip in a pout, glaring at him as he laughed at her misfortune. He can’t help but think she’s the cutest human, her arms crossing over her chest as she looks at him angrily.

“Come here,” He whispered, reaching out for her, his hands finding her waist. He smiled as her expression softened and her hands fell to her side, a pout still on her face as he moved to the edge of the bed and pulled her into his lap. She rolled her eyes, still pouting as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. He grabbed her face in both of his hands, squishing her cheeks together, making her laugh uncontrollably as she pushed him away. He loved when she laughed loudly, when she wasn’t trying to stop herself from making too much noise or worrying about people looking at her. She was always so worried about feeling too much, he could see it at times. The way she’d suck in a huge breath, her glazed over eyes always giving her away.

He’d felt it then. Watching her, his eyes locked on hers as she beamed happily at him, his breathing quickening yet again as she stared at him and tilted her head. He kissed her, moving so she was lying beneath him as he hovered above her, his lips moving gently against hers as she smiled against his kiss. She pushed him away, her hand staying pressed against his chest as he stared down at her, his eyes dark as she breathlessly furrowed her brow. She gulped as his eyes poured into hers, his face serious as he held his weight above her with one hand, the other reaching out to cup her face as he shook his head. He felt dizzy, so unsure but so certain at the same time as her lips parted as she let out an uneven breath. That’s when she knew. She’d seen it. The way he kissed her after that, his lips moving slowly against hers, the way he traced the outline of her jaw, his chest pressed against hers. The way his fingers slowly pressed into her warm skin, gentle yet eager. The way he’d kissed her two more times before she finally convinced him to go to bed, practically having to push him towards the door. The way he’d lovingly pressed kisses all over her face, making her scrunch her nose up before he placed another sweet kiss against her lips before he finally said Goodnight.

She saw it the next day. She felt it too. The way he looked at her with a smile that felt like it was just for her as they were waiting to check out of the hotel. The way he instinctively pressed his hand against the small of her back when they were stepping onto the tour bus. She’d felt it when the show was over that night and fresh from the stage he’d ran to her, pulling her close in the privacy of his dressing room, whispering against her lips before kissing her for the last time. She’d felt and seen how quickly Shawn had decided he wanted to be with her and it scared the shit out of her. It scared her how after he’d left the first night he’d kissed her, she still felt lonely. Still felt like she was trying too hard to be perfect. It scared her how easily he’d let himself feel everything he wanted to and it scared her that she couldn’t. She didn’t want to hurt him. She didn’t want him to think she didn’t want the same thing he did because she did but she wasn’t ready to rush in, not the way he was. So she left.

The next time y/n sees him is even more unexpected than the last and at first she thinks she’s dreaming. Thinks she’s convincing herself a stranger is him, her drunken heart unguarded. But it’s not a stranger with an uncanny resemblance. It’s him and his face is pink, his forehead damp with sweat and his lips are turned into an easy grin. She’s by no means sober and she’s already warm but when she sees him she gets warmer, the little ball of fire in her belly growing as he feels her gaze on him and turns to look at her.

In some ways seeing him here shouldn’t be a surprise. Shawn has a lot of friends. A lot of female friends specifically who happen to be models. So why wouldn’t he be at the birthday party for one of them? Still, y/n is caught off guard when after hours of mingling and drinking she sees him. She wonders how long he’s been here. He looks like he’s been drinking but she never knows. He’s always flush and gets hot so easily.

If she was in anyway sober she’d ignore him. Especially because he had ignored her two months ago when she’d seen him in that coffee shop. She’d cried about it after she’d gotten home that day, wondering why she always messed everything up. Wishing she’d just told him the truth. Seeing him had hurt and the way he’d treated her had hurt her even more. So she should have ignored him. Should have made sure he didn’t hurt her again but her drunk brain wasn’t thinking too rationally.

Shawn notices the way she sways a little when someone softly bumps into her. Her eyes are more tired than they usually look and the way she lazily smiles at a man who slides past her clues him in. She’s definitely drunk. He wants to ignore her but he can’t this time. She’s pushing her way towards him, smiling happily and muttering “excuse me” to the strangers around her. The sight of her beaming face makes him feel comforted. Reminds him of the way she’d smiled that one night they’d kissed. He excuses himself from the conversation he’s been pulled into, brushing past people as he moves in her direction.

“Shawny boy!” She cheers when he’s close to her, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug. He hesitates, her warm body pressing against his as his hands slide around her waist. She pulls away and smiles up at him, his face contorted in confusion as she giggles.

“Honey are you okay?” He asks in a concerned tone, her smile widening as she giggles again and reaches out to wrap her fingers around one of his wrists, her warm skin comforting him instantly. He knows she’s drunk. Noticing the way she freely giggles, the way she touches him without trying to control herself too much. He’s seen her drunk before. The few times she had decided to let loose on tour and drink a little always started and ended with her in a fit of giggles, freely giving away hugs and “I love you”s to everyone. She seems free and unburdened and he knows it’s because the alcohol but he wishes she could be like this without it. More open, less rigid. He laughs lightly as she shakes her head and leans closer to him.

“I’m really drunk, Shawn” she says, thinking she’s whispering when she’s really not. Shawn nods, smiling down at her as she pulls her hand away.

“I can see that,” he laughs. “Who’d you come here with?”

“A boy,” she drags out, rolling her eyes. Shawn’s breath hitches as he nods slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. He’d dated since she’d left. Had slept with people. Had kissed other people. But he’d been on his own for a while. None of the women he’d met had felt like her. He’d convinced himself that someone else could instantly make him feel good and warm like she had but they hadn’t. Somewhere in his mind he convinced himself that he’d call her or text her. He’d convinced himself that she could be his. That she’d be willing to try again. But maybe he was wrong.

“Oh,” He says slowly.

She tilts her head and notices the way his eyes shift and he shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans. She smiles up at him, making him flutter his gaze down to her as she laughs and shakes her head. He gives her a weak smile, his eyes stinging. Again, in her sober state she wouldn’t have been so careless but she’s drunk and all she can think about is how hurt Shawn looks, both of them staring at each other. She doesn’t like it. Doesn’t think he should be frowning when he looks so good when he’s smiling. She grabs his face in her hands, his breath quickening as the warmth from her hands seeps into his skin. She tilts her head and smiles at him as she squishes his cheeks.

He wants to laugh, her sweet giggle filling his ears as she playfully presses her fingers against his face but he’s too hurt to pretend.

“Stop,” he mumbles, shaking his head as he wraps his fingers around her wrists and pushes her hands away from his face. He sighs, the smile falling from her face as he licks his dry lips, his chest tightening as his throat dries up. She wasn’t his, as much as he wished she was and she’d run when he’d wanted to be with her. He’d felt like she was meant to fit into his life, to be the person he’d needed but as soon as he’d decided he wanted to be hers, she’d broken his heart.

“Why are you sad?” She asks softly, her voice small as she pouts up at him. He lets out a frustrated breath, shaking his head again.

“Don’t do that,” He warns, making her furrow her eyebrows.

“Do what?”

“Come on,” he breathes.

“Shawn,” She says seriously. “I don’t know what you’re talking about”

“Didn’t you come here with someone?” He says, his gaze cutting through her as he narrows his eyes. She stares at him, her mouth open in shock. She doesn’t know what to say as he runs a hand through his messy hair and lets out a frustrated breath. She should just walk away and leave him alone for the rest of the night but the alcohol that’s coursing through her blood makes her stay. She does and says the dumbest thing she can as she laughs, her drunk giggly brain possessing her. Maybe she says it because things are getting too serious and she doesn’t want to do that with him. She wants to hear him laugh.

“Why. Are you jealous?” She says softly, tilting her head as a teasing smile works its way onto her face. She doesn’t know what compels her to say it and before she can even think about what she’s said, she watches Shawn’s eyes darken as he stares down at her, his eyes glazing over. She thought he’d think it was funny. They’d always been able to joke around before, their friendship never too serious. Sure Shawn shared things he was struggling with but they’d always been playful with each other. Obviously things were different now.

“Why would you say that?” He says, hurt washing over his face.

“I-I don’t know,” She whispers, regret and embarrassment instantly taking over as she backs away from him slightly. She gulps nervously, her warm face becoming even warmer. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that. Uh...it was good to see you. Sorry.”

“Y/n…” He starts, realizing he doesn’t know if or when he’ll see her again but she’s quick even in her tipsy state and she disappears into the crowd before he can stop her. It feels like she’s always on the move.

The rush Shawn feels after a show is unmatched with anything he’s ever felt before. The adrenaline that courses through his entire body after he jumps off stage, fans screaming their praises for him is a feeling he chases show after show and he’s never disappointed by their enthusiasm. The night after he kissed y/n is no different. He thanks as many people as he can, his heart pumping rapidly as a kilowatt smile braces his face, his heart fluttering when he thinks about seeing her and kissing her. He can’t contain his excitement, practically jumping from person to person in the front row before he bolts as quickly as he can past the stage and past Jake, who shakes his head as Shawn turns around and gives the stadium full of fans a wave before he runs to her. There are few things he can ever be sure of when they’re traveling but the rush after a show is one of them. Seeing her in his dressing room, waiting with a water bottle and snacks is another. But this time it feels different and he can’t help but laugh to himself as he runs to her, his fingertips tingling as he gets closer.

When he flung the door open that night she was sitting on the couch with a water bottle in hand, a smile lighting up her face the instant he saw her. He’d never felt so much so quickly with anyone before and that was a whole different kind of rush. One that took over his body as he closed the door behind him and rushed over to her, his breathing heavy as she stood up from her spot on the couch and laughed the sweetest laugh he’d ever heard.

“Hi rockstar,” She beamed at him, reaching up and brushing away the damp curl that had fallen in front of his eye. Her touch was like fire against his skin and the way it sped up his heart rate made him go insane. She tilted her head, smiling as she admired him. “You’re so pretty, you know that?”

He shook his head, grabbing the bottle from her hand and setting it on the couch behind her. She laughed, his arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her close. She couldn’t deny it felt good. Shawn was so warm and sweet. Everything she’d ever wanted someone to be. But he’d also been able to see through her so easily. Something the guys she’d been with before hadn’t been able to do. With everyone she’d been with she’d felt like she’d had to be everything they wanted her to be. But with Shawn it felt different. Scary. He hummed gently as he brushed back the hair that was in her face, the two of them standing close and smiling at each other like complete idiots.

“I think you might be prettier,” He said gently, his fingers caressing her cheek sweetly. “Not by much of course but-“

“Oh my god you’re so annoying,” She groaned, playfully rolling her eyes, going to turn around. He grabbed her arm, pulling her back into him, a proud smirk playing on his face. He was so cute. She couldn’t resist letting him grab her face in his hands, his touch instantly comforting her and making her cheeks grow pink as he smiled down at her.

“I missed you,” He whispered, placing a gentle kiss on the tip of her nose.

“You saw me before the show, silly” She laughed, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“I know but I haven’t gotten to hold you all day,” He groaned dramatically.

“Oh wow you poor baby,” She teased, smiling as she reached up and set her hand on his cheek, her thumb rubbing his smooth skin. He smiled like a little puppy, his eyes closing as he leaned into her, rubbing his nose against hers. She laughed, her hot breath hitting his lips as her fingers pushed themselves into his hair, his curls still damp with sweat from jumping around on stage. She played with a strand of hair near the back of his neck, his nose brushing against her cheek as he pressed a gentle kiss on the corner of her mouth.

“I think you’re my favorite person,” He whispered, his hot breath sending a shiver down her spine as it hit her lips. She gulped, his eyes connected with hers as he pulled away slightly to look at her. She let out an airy laugh, shaking her head.

“I really doubt that” She answered, her fingers traveling from his neck and down his arm before gently wrapping around his wrist. He pulled his wrist out of her grasp, pushing her palm open and lacing her fingers with his.

“Can I say you’re my favorite person to kiss?” He countered, a child-like smile on his face. She shrugged, biting down on her bottom lip as he leaned into her and rubbed his nose against hers once again. She let out another sweet laugh that made his insides warm, her palm pressed against his feeling like it’d finally found its home.

“Sure Mendes” She whispered, giggling right before he pressed his lips against hers, both of them holding onto each other as tightly as they could and kissing each other as much as they could before they were interrupted.

It’s been another three months and she can’t stop thinking about the voicemail on her phone. She’s listened to it more times than she can count, knowing she should probably just delete it. She told herself when she saw it the morning after running into him that she wouldn’t listen to it and she hadn’t for a solid twelve hours before she finally caved in. She wishes she hadn’t, the sound of his slurred and sloppy words replaying over and over again in her head. When she felt lonely she’d listen to it and laugh, the sound of his smooth giggle instantly comforting her. That part was good but it was the end that made her heart swell.

“I know you don’t wanna be with me,” He’d said drunkenly, the hurt in his voice evident. “And I don’t want to sound like too much of a drunk idiot but I think you’re it. I- I think you’re meant to be mine and my heart is yours, honey. Ohhhh it’s yours. S-hit I gotta go. Brian’s yelling at me. I’m hanging up Brian shut your fu-“

She was going to call him. Or text him. Or maybe even hit him up on instagram. She swore she was but she never could figure out what to say or how to say it. She didn’t even know if he remembered calling her and she really didn’t know if he remembered professing his feelings via voicemail. So she can’t help but think it’s not by chance that she sees him again. It can’t be random that even though she keeps running from him, they keep bumping into each other. She especially thinks it’s fate nudging him towards her because she’d almost stayed home but her friends had convinced her last minute to go out with them. She’d begrudgingly put on a black silk dress and heels, her hair pulled back in a low ponytail and hopped in a taxi with them to some random club that was full of supermodels and New York’s finest.

“One of the bartenders just told me Shawn Mendes is here!” Her roommate Kit had exclaimed after they’d been dancing for a solid hour, y/n’s feet tingling with nerves, her heart thumping violently in her chest. She hadn’t really told any of her new friends or coworkers that she’d worked for Shawn. A quick google search would have done the trick if they really were curious about what she’d done prior to working for Vogue but she knew no one found her interesting enough to do so. She tries not to look for him. Tries not to wonder where in the crowded room he is and what he’s getting up to but it’s hard to concentrate on anything else as she dances with her friends. She’d been so stupid so many times. She tried not to miss him. Tried not to think about how she’d stupidly told him that she’d been with a guy that night at the party. Yeah, she’d showed up with a guy that her friend had set her up with but hours into the party he’d ditched y/n and found a supermodel to make out with. She should have said that instead of trying to make him jealous. His heart was hers. He’d said it himself. Yet, she kept trying to pretend like she wasn’t ready. Maybe at first she wasn’t.

“Why the FUCK is Shawn motherfucking Mendes looking at you like that?” She hears a shrill voice shout next to her, making her heart skip a beat as her gaze follows Kit’s. Sure enough, Shawn’s only a couple feet away, his eyes locked on y/n as the people around him jump up and down, Brian who’s next to him squeezing his shoulders excitedly. She hates how seeing him always catches her off guard, her breath catching in her throat as his eyes roam up and down her body, his lips parted as he takes her in.

He’d been really drunk that night he’d called her. After she’d left he’d drank way too much and after getting back to his hotel room, he’d stupidly decided to call her. He knows he left her a voicemail but he’s not sure exactly what he said. Something about how badly he wanted her which wasn’t untrue. As his eyes scan her body, her skin glowing underneath the shitty club lighting, her sparkling eyes meeting his, he feels his entire body grow warm. He’s staring and he knows it, the girls around y/n giggling and nudging her as he runs a hand through his hair and coughs, trying to figure out how to get closer to her so he can pull her aside. All he wants is her and seeing how beautiful she looks in the silk dress she’s wearing, he wants her even more. Even if it’s just for a night.

“SHAWNY! IT’S OUR GIRL!” Brian practically screams when he notices what - or who - has captured his best friend’s attention. Shawn shakes his head, the collection of friends that he’s with looking in the direction that Brian’s pointing in. Brian waves y/n over excitedly, jumping up and down as she flashes a coy smile and gestures for her friends to follow. Like always, once y/n has made her way over to them Brian wraps her into a big hug and squeezes her tightly, shouting in her ear how happy he is to see her before quickly introducing himself to Kit and the other model friends that she’s with. Y/n takes the time to hug Shawn’s friends, who all excitedly pull her close and like Brian shout into her ear about how happy they are to see her. Working for Shawn was fun, especially because they were close in age and he had a slew of really cool and really fun friends who had taken an instant liking to her.

“You look so fucking hot! Wow!” Paula practically screams in her ear, making y/n laugh as she shakes her head.

“What are you talking about? You’re ten times hotter!” She shouts back, a smile taking over her face as Paula rolls her eyes teasingly.

“Shut up! You’re absolutely gorgeous,” She smiles, pulling y/n in for another hug and squeezing her tightly before she mumbles something about needing another drink, disappearing into the crowd. It’s crowded, lots of cameras and lights flashing as music bumps through a million speakers that adorn the walls. There are people everywhere, lots of them taking photos and videos of Shawn who is now pushing past Brian and making his way over to y/n.

He tries to contain himself. All he wants is to kiss her and hold her. Maybe it’s the alcohol that has him feeling a little bit freer than normal, willing to get his heart broken if it means she’ll at least just let him kiss her one last time. But he knows even sober he’d want her, the way she moves closer to him as he carefully reaches for her fingertips making his heart flutter. She slides her hand into his, the feeling sending electricity through her entire body as he gently pulls her close to him, sweaty bodies bumping into hers. He shouldn’t be holding her like he is, his free hand sliding against the smooth silk fabric of her dress as he grabs her waist and pulls her into him. She can barely breath, the bottoms of her feet tingling as her stomach flips upside down. His hot breath hits her ear as he leans into her, her fingers wrapping around his arm. He knows there’ll be pictures tomorrow of them circulating online and normally he’d care but in that moment he doesn’t, intoxicated by the way after all this time she still smells like sugar and coconut.

“You look beautiful,” He whispers, his lips purposefully brushing against her ear. She shivers. Actually shivers, his hands falling away from her as he pulls away, his eyes dark and swimming with admiration as he looks down at her with the most beautiful smile she’s ever seen. She lets out a rigged breath, licking her dry lips as his eyes dart down to her mouth.

“Yeah?” She says sheepishly, an easy smile working it’s way onto her face. Shawn nods, gulping as he tears his eyes away from her lips and meets her gaze.

“Yeah,” He says gently, a blush instantly creeping up onto her face. He wants to reach out and rub her cheek but there’s too many people. Too many eyes already on them. All he wants is her, his fingertips tingling to reach out and touch her. He can see that she wants the same thing, her eyes locked on his, a shy smile on her face as she moves closer to him. He lets out a heavy breath, his eyes dancing across her face. It’s moments like this where Shawn wishes for anonymity. If he wasn’t Shawn Mendes nobody would care about two twenty-somethings kissing in a random club and he could just pull her close and dance with her and maybe kiss her if she would let him and tell her he’s sorry for being stupid. For not just telling her that all he wants is her. He’s feeling bold and he knows Andrew is absolutely going to kick his ass tomorrow but she keeps staring at him and his heart keeps fluttering, his entire body warm as she smiles up at him. He slides his hand into hers, lacing their fingers together. It’s the best feeling in the world and it feels like home, the way her palm presses into his. She can’t help but smile, Shawn’s thumb caressing the top of her hand gently as he pulls her close to him.

“Come do a shot with me, kid!” Brian shouts suddenly, y/n and Shawn pulling away from each other quickly as Brian slides between them and throws his arm over y/n’s shoulder. She smiles up at him as she smooths down her hair that keeps trying to escape her ponytail.

“I think I’ve had enough,” She laughs. “Plus all the girls I came here with are really fucked up. I have to make sure they safely get into Ubers by the end of the night,”

“Boooo,” He pouts, making Shawn roll his eyes. “Shawn come take one with me.”

“I think I’m good too,” He answers.

“You guys are no fun!” Brian shouts, his hair damp and his face red. He’s clearly been drinking and having a good time, his once tucked in shirt now only halfway tucked in, his eyes red and lazy looking. Y/n can’t help but laugh and throw her arm over his shoulder.

“Wow, b. You seem like you’re having a shit time,” She teases, making him laugh and lean into her, his movements lazy and sloppy.

“The worstttt,” He drags out, earning another laugh from y/n. “By the way. Your friend Kit…”

“Absolutely not,” y/n interjects with a laugh. “I am not setting you up.”

“Well thanks,” Brian says sarcastically. “No I was gonna say she’s running off somewhere”

“What?” Y/n gasps, her eyes darting in the direction Brian’s pointing. It’s easy to spot Kit, her tall blonde figure towering over the people she’s pushing past quickly. Y/n curses underneath her breath, watching as Kit bursts into the bathroom. Y/n knows she’s no doubt emptying her stomach into a toilet bowl. As much as she loves her roommate, her crazy weekend antics were less than lovely. “Shit uh I gotta go but it was good seeing you two.”

She goes to leave, Brian’s arm falling off her shoulder as she turns around on her heels. A warmth wraps around her wrist and stops her in her tracks. Of course it’s Shawn. She can feel dozens of eyes on her and she can’t help but wonder why he’s being so bold. Why he’s throwing away all his normal protocol just for her. She knows there are going to be rumors tomorrow. She’d be naive to think there wouldn’t be. He shakes his head as he pulls her back quickly but gently, her heart beating in her ears as his eyes scan hers.

“When can I see you again?” He asks urgently as her eyes shift over to the bathroom.

“Uh…” she drags out, the way he’s pulling on her fingers as she tries to escape making her skin burn. She’s still fighting and she doesn’t know why. He pulls her closer, forcing her to look up at him as his pleading eyes pour into hers.

“Please,” He says gently, his thumb moving over the top of hers gently. He’s got her. She would have melted into him right there if it weren’t for the dozens of eyes on them.

“Tomorrow. Are you still going to be in New York?” She says gently, pulling her hand out of his. He nods. “I’ll text you my address. There’s a coffee shop in my apartment building we can maybe go to? I-I’m sorry I have to go, Shawn.”

“Hey,” He says softly, wrapping his hand around her wrist again and pulling her back before she can leave. He pulls her close and she swears she feels her heart skip a beat as his other hand slides against her cheek and cups her face gently. Her mind is racing, her thoughts swirling quickly. Why is he doing this? WHAT is he doing? Doesn’t he care that people are taking pictures? Videos? What is Andrew gonna think? Her lips part, a shallow breath escaping her mouth as his thumb skims across her cheek softly. “Text me when you’re home so I know you’re safe, eh?”

It’s the most unexpected yet sweetest thing he could have said and it makes her want to kiss him but she knows that’s too bold a move. She nods, a small smile playing on her face as he looks down at her, his soft eyes making her feet tingle. He smiles back at her, the way she squeezes his hand before leaving him making his cheeks grow warm. She practically whispers a goodbye, slipping away and into the crowd expertly, collecting her drunk group of friends before they all make their way to the bathroom. He doesn’t see her again, his friends pulling him back into their group and forcing him to dance and drink but all he can think about is her and tomorrow.

—-

News travels fast. It seems like it travels even faster when Shawn Mendes is involved, pictures of him and y/n circulating on all kinds of corners of the internet the next morning. Andrew has called Shawn twenty times, sent him countless texts and has left a string of voicemails on his phone but Shawn ignores them all. He knows he shouldn’t go see her and she even suggests potentially meeting up at a different date, letting the story of their night club encounter die down before risking another public sighting together. Y/n had been photographed several times with Shawn and most of his fans knew who she was but to most media outlets she was being written as “a mysterious brunette” who Shawn had met during a wild night in New York. She tries to convince him it’s not a good idea for them to meet up but he tells her it’s okay, says he wants to see her anyway if she’ll let him. So she says yes, caves into him even though she’s so unsure about everything.

She’s waiting for him in her apartment, sat on her couch with her arms wrapped around her legs as she presses them against her chest. Kit’s gone, having dragged herself out of bed for an early shoot. Her breathing is labored and her stomach is tight. She’d barely been able to sleep the night before, too consumed with replaying the way Shawn had looked at her and held her. She was so scared of letting go. Of letting herself get hurt again. She knew he would never intentionally hurt her but she couldn’t silence the voice in her head that was telling her that trusting anyone with her heart was too risky.

She’s going to text him and tell him not to come when she hears a knock on the door. She knows it’s him. She lets out a jagged breath, lifting herself off her couch as she makes her way over to the door. A bundle of nerves pushes its way up her throat and she has to swallow to steady her breathing as she opens the door. Her lips part in surprise when she sees him standing there with two iced coffees in his hand, his lips turning up into a sweet smile that lights her heart on fire as his eyes dance across her face. He’s so sweet it hurts.

“Thought you might be tired. You still like almond milk lattes?” He asks softly as he holds out one of the cups for her. She nods and smiles gently, her fingers brushing against his as she takes the coffee from him, the small amount of contact making her stomach grow warm.

“Thank you,” She whispers, a shaky breath falling from her lips as he beams at her.

“It’s nothing,” He replies, his Adam’s apple moving up and down his throat as he swallows his nerves. Seeing her without the help of a little alcohol in his system makes his hands shake slightly and his breathing uneven as she looks up at him with her soft brown eyes.

Every time they’ve seen each other since she stopped working for him has been brief and now that it’s just them, both of them walking into her apartment and sitting down at the table in her dining room, he’s not quite sure how to stop his heart from pounding so rapidly that he feels like it’s going to give out. They both sit in silence for a while, taking occasional sips of their coffee as the wind from the busy New York Streets streams in through her open balcony door, the midday sun hitting the back of y/n’s shoulders.

“Um,” She gulps after they’ve both been quiet for too long, her fingers playing with the straw in her coffee cup. “I don’t want to make things...weird but uh I just- I wanted to apologize”

“A-Apologize for what?” He asks softly, his eyebrows furrowing as he leans forward a little, removing his hand from his coffee cup. Y/n lets out a loaded sigh, licking her dry lips as she continues to twirl the straw in her cup. Her face is warm and there feels like there’s a pit in her stomach. The familiar sting she’s used to ignoring makes her eyes glaze over.

“For hurting you,” She breaths, trying her best to manage her rapid heart rate. She swallows the lump in her throat, the feeling returning instantly. Shawn scoots his chair closer to her, shaking his head.

“Y/n,” He starts.

“No please,” She sighs. “Shawn you’re too good, sometimes. I know you were hurt when I just left. I-you’re so open with your heart. So vulnerable and honest. I-I’m not like that.”

“Why...why are you telling me this?”

“I-Do you remember calling me? After uh after I saw you at that party in Brooklyn?” She asks hesitantly, noticing the way that Shawn’s shoulder’s stiffen and he gulps nervously, his eyes avoiding hers as he nods gently.

“Do you remember what you said?” She whispers.

“I mean n-not exactly,” He breathes. “Something about how I missed you.”

“Shawn,” She starts, forcing a smile on her face as she tilts her head and tries to memorize the way he’s looking at her, his eyes swimming with so much longing that it makes her heart swell. She heaves a sigh, lips pressing together as she searches for the right words to say.

“Hey,” He whispers when she’s been quiet for too long, pools of tears threatening to force themselves out of her eyes as she looks down at her hands in her lap. She feels her chair move under her and when she looks up she sees Shawn’s eyes locked on hers as he holds onto the legs of her chair and pulls her close to him. Her body comes alive just by being close to him, his legs on either side of hers, his hand slipping onto the back of her knee as his thumb burns soothing patterns into her skin. It’s so easy. The way his skin feels against her makes her want to throw out any rules she’s created for herself but the knot in her throat fights against it.

“You said your heart is mine,” She stutters out, brows furrowing together as she stares back at him. His lips part, his heart bursting as she shakes her head and slides her hand against his arm as she leans into him. He’s shocked how every time she touches him it feels electric, every time he feels her skin against his, his body jolting to attention. He gulps nervously and nods, moving his hand so it’s pressed against the side of her thigh. She feels so warm. So good.

“You could have anybody you want,” She chokes out. “I-I’m not it, Shawn. I’m not. You deserve...everything and I can’t- I can’t give you what you deserve.”

“I don’t want anybody else,” He whispers, shaking his head, placing both of his hands on her thighs as he pulls her even closer, her chest moving up and down rapidly as she steadys her breathing. His touch comforts her, the bundle in her stomach slowly coming undone as his fingers rake up and down her thigh. And that scares her. The fact that feeling his index finger caress the apple of her warm cheek makes all her worries slowly melt away scares her, a jagged breath falling from her lips as he wraps his fingers around her wrist and lifts her hand up to his mouth, pressing his lips against the delicate skin on the inside of her wrist.

“It’s not that easy,” she huffs, gently pulling her hand out of his grasp, his eyes filling with confusion as she runs a hand through her messy hair.

“It could be,” He counters, pressing his legs against hers, trapping her in his grasp as he leans forward, elbows propped up on his knees. He shakes his head yet again, licking his lips as his eyes dance across her face. She stares down at him, her chest moving up and down rapidly. “I’m scared too. You know that, yeah?”

“I’m not-“ She starts.

“Yes you are,” He says firmly, watching as she folds her arms across her chest. The way she nervously bites down on her bottom lip and taps her foot against the floor, her knee knocking into his leg clues him in. He doesn’t want to force her into anything. Doesn’t want to pressure her if she’s not ready but he doesn’t know why she keeps fighting. Why she gives in one second and then pushes him away the next. But he also can’t wrap his mind around why she’s different. Why he keeps thinking about her. Wanting her. Missing her. He’d thought when he kissed her that he’d done it to make her feel better, to make himself feel less lonely, but here he was, over a year later. Absolutely waiting to fall all in with her. Maybe he’s crazy. Maybe he shouldn’t be placing all his cards on the table for a couple of nights spent with her. But it’s her and he can’t help but think maybe he’d been hers all along and he was too stupid to see it and he can’t help but hold on.

“I can’t be what you want me to be,” She says.

“I’m not asking you to be anything,” He replies. “My heart is yours, babe. Just as you are, it’s yours.”

The simplest of words shouldn’t soothe her worries like they do. She can’t help but exhale some of the fear that’s taken a hold of her breath, Shawn’s hot fingers nudging against hers as he pushes open her hand and laces his fingers with hers. That same familiar feeling blazes in her belly and a jagged breath falls from her lips as his other hand gently pushes itself against her cheek. He asks if it’s okay and she says yes, letting her fingers fall away from his as she slides her hand onto his thigh, squeezing it gently. She doesn’t know why she keeps fighting. She wants to be with him, the way his fingers press into her skin is the best feeling in the world, his eyes connected with hers sparking butterflies in her belly. His thumb finds the corner of her mouth, pressing against it gently before grazing over her bottom lip, sending shivers up and down her spine. She lets out an audible gasp when his thumb moves over her top lip, the corners of Shawn’s mouth tugging into a small smile. He shakes his head as he leans into her, his free hand pressing itself against her leg, her throat tightening as the contact burns her skin.

“Tell me it’s not mine,” He whispers, his thumb swiping against her bottom lip once again, the places he’s traced with his finger tingling. She furrows her brows, her grip on his thigh tightening as he moves closer to her.

“W-what?” She breathes, gulping nervously as he reaches up and sweetly tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Tell me your heart’s not mine,” He replies, his voice so soft that it makes her insides turn into goo as both his hands find their way to her face, cupping her cheeks gently. The knot in her belly feels like it’s coming undone, giving way to a chorus of tingles as Shawn’s brown eyes pour into hers, the flicker she’d seen in his eyes that night in her hotel room returning. She’d run after that night because she thought she was scared of feeling lonely but watching as Shawn’s eyes fill with affection for her, watching him look through her and see exactly everything she’s trying to hide makes her realize she’d been scared of feeling like she wouldn’t be okay if she gave her heart away. But she’d spent the last year and a half trying to feel okay. Trying to feel more whole by herself and she did. So feeling Shawn’s leg press further into hers makes her stomach churn in a way it hasn’t before. Makes tingles shoot up and down her legs and arms as she leans closer into him, her hot breath purposefully fanning against his face. The knot in her stomach completely unravels as she reaches out a shaky hand and presses her fingers against Shawn’s chest gently. She’s done fighting. Done thinking she’s not good enough to be chosen when he’s right in front of her, willing to give himself to her. She smiles gently up at him, nudging his nose with hers as an uneven breath falls from his lips. She presses a fiery kiss against his lips, making his lips burn as she kisses him gently before pulling away.

“You know it’s yours.”

#shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes #sm #shawn

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kdfrqqg · 5 years

Text

Left alone

Dean x Reader

Warnings: SMUT, PWP

Word Count: 1.5K

A/N: This was written for @hopes-archer Dice challenge. My prompts were massage wand vibrator, kitchen counter then floor and “I know for a fact you can be a hell of a lot louder than that.”

No beta, all mistakes are mine.

---

The bunker was quiet, Sam had left yesterday morning to go to some film festival and no one had heard from Cas in a about a week or two. You and Dean were more than happy to walk around like you were on permanent vacation in your underwear with only a loose robe to cover up. The two of you would take your meals together but spend the rest of your time in your separate bedrooms since not much else was going on.

There was only so much Netflix you could watch before boredom took you over. Stripping out of what little clothes you had on, you told ‘Alexa’ to play something sensual, and grabbed your favorite toy from the bedside drawer. The massage wand was a life saver not just during your personal times but also after particularly difficult hunts and your muscles were sore.

On top of the sheets, your body slivered to the music as you ran the wand over your shoulders and chest while your other hand wandered over all your delicate parts. Imagines of the sexy damn hunter down the hall filled your brain. The way he licked his lips, his strong large hands, how he winked at you when he was little drunk. You let the recently remembered smell of gunpowder and coffee completely intoxicate you as you daydreamed about Dean taking you in the backseat of Baby and him talking dirty to you. Small fingers dipped into your core feeling your perfect wetness, the wand drifted over your clit, making you pant and squeeze your eyes tightly together. Your whimpers and whines were low, you had never been particularly loud in bed.

Everything was feeling right, the pads of your fingers dragged juices up over your lips and to your clit making the perfect friction, the vibrations were making you start to see stars as all your sweet spots were being hit.

The handle to your door turned, “Sweetheart, I’m going to go out and get a drink.” The door flung open, “You wanna join?”

You eyes opened in complete shock, “Oh shit!” You body clinched and seized up as your climax hit you just at the same time he walked in.

His eyes raked over your form, it was clear he walked in on an intimate moment but you looked beautiful coming from your own touch. Legs flailing, you couldn’t do anything but ride it out, you couldn’t move, in your embarrassment, you reached out for the bed spread pulling it over your form before sliding, ok, falling off the bed to hide your shame. “Dean, what the hell?” A loud noise was coming from the vibrator as it still remained on after it hit the hardwood floor, you turned it off to try and end the humiliation faster, chucking it away from you. Frustrated huffs and puffs came from you which only made Dean chuckle. “Seriously, whatever happened to privacy and knocking?” You yelled as you moved the blanket out of your face to glare at him.

His held his hands up in defense, “I know, I know. I’m sorry but damn that was hot.”

“Dean Winchester, get out!”

“Oh come on. I just think I found my entertainment for the evening.” He looked at your beautifully flushed skin and sucked his bottom lip in his mouth showing off his top pearly whites.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He moved closer to the bed and reached down to grab the discarded sex toy. “This thing looks like fun.”

“Hey!” You tried to move but kept getting tripped up on the blanket. Dean slowly backed away from you then made a mad dash out the door. “Dean, you ass.” You made it to your feet and followed him tightening the sheets and blankets around you as you chased him down the hallway.

He laughed like a child, turning the device on and off while running to the kitchen.

“You are so gross, you know that right? That’s used vibrator. It’s not even clean, dude.” The sheets dragged on the floor as you picked up the pace to catch him.

Two firms hands grabbed your waist when you crossed the kitchen threshold, “What if I want to use it on you?” He purred. Blinking in total utter disbelief. “I think I found my play toy for the evening, why would I want to go out now?” Dean continued moving his face closer to the nape of your neck. “Who were you thinking about?”

“That’s private, dumbass.” You pushed him back but you didn’t get very far before he was pressing you gently against the counter.

“Private!” He scoffed, “That means it was someone I know. Was it Sammy?” Your titled glare told him no. “Ok, not Sammy, then Cas? Women really do like him.” You crossed your arms, trying not to tell him anything but he read you like a book. “Well Darlin’, that means there is just one person left.” His lips came closer to yours, “If you were thinking about me, you could have just slipped into my room because I know for a fact you can be a hell of a lot louder than that.” A timid kiss was placed on your lips. “Tell me, you were thinking about me?”

You nodded finally your voice caught up. “Yes.” It was but a whisper.

He moaned, pushing you closer to him, “I knew it.” A warm hand touched your chin before wrapping around into your hair, his kiss was all teeth and tongue. The sheets feel to the ground, your hands reached up pulling him down to you in complete passion. Dean moved his hands over your naked body, a firm grip on your waist lifted you up on the counter with a grunt from him and a yelp from you. “I want to hear you.” He nestled himself between your legs and turned the massager back on.

You gulped, “Hear me?”

“Yes, Sweetheart. I want to hear you.” He pressed the toy to you mound just above your clit. “I think I just had a taste of what you sound like. I’m going to need more now.” Dean continued to move the massager down now touching your sweet spot and kissed you deeper as you hung on still not sure that you weren’t dreaming.

You were overly stimulated already from your alone time but the way he was kissing and touching you had you whimpering quickly trying to hold back your second release of the evening. Arching your neck back you head landed against the cabinet door, “Shit, shit Dean. I-I-I can’t…”

His mouth captured yours, “Sure you can, just let go. You’re so gorgeous.” He kissed down your neck and chest encouraging you to cum again.

“Ahhhh Dean,” Your nails dug into his shoulders, “oh my God!” A loud moan was forced from your belly as all your muscles contracted while you closed your eyes seeing a bright lights. Dean watched you in awe and kept talking, working you gently through your orgasm. Your body slumped forward, “I got you.” He caressed your back as he pulled you from the counter making sure you were ok to stand.

“Dean, I want you now.” You growled, working his layers of shirts over his head.

“Yeah so soon?”

“Yeah! I want to ride you.” He kicked quickly out of his boots after your admission making you giggle at his excitement.

“Darlin’, I’m all yours.” Stripping as fast as he could.

Legs and limbs tangled rolling to the floor on top of the plush blanket and sheet. Dean laid out gazing up at you as you straddled him. His heavy cock was hard pressed next to his stomach your slick teased over his length, enjoying the feeling of him before you fucked the shit out him.

Taking ahold of his manhood, you lined up his shaft with entrance feeling the delicious burn of him stretch your pussy. “Fuck, (Y/N/N)! Damn, you feel good.”

“You ready?” You asked.

“Ready!” He moaned.

Hands pressed firmly to his chest as you lifted yourself up and down over his cock, taking a little bit more of him each time you came down on him. “You’re really good at this.”

“You ain’t seen nothing yet, Baby.” The smirk on your face told him he would be sore in all the best ways in the morning.

“Dean! (Y/N)!” Sam called out from the War room. “I’m back.”

“Ah shit!” You cussed and Dean also said a few choice words as you dismounted and covered yourself up. “If we run, we can make it back to your room before he finds us.” Both of you grabbed all your stuff off the ground and made a run for it. Laughing and smiling the whole time down the hall, Sam had rounded the corner to the kitchen just in time to watch your sheet wrapped bodies making a sprint from the room.

The makeshift coverings were discarded quickly as soon as he and you made it to his bedroom, “Now where were we.” Dean pulled you into a rough kiss.

“You were about to give me orgasm three or maybe four of the evening.”

“That’s right, Sweetheart. And tomorrow, I’ll give you just as many.”

You smiled knowing that he was a man that always kept his promises, “Dean Winchester, I think you may have just ruined me for other men.”

---

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jovialyouthmusic · 5 years

Text

The Many Lives of Drake Walker

A Royal Romance AU fanfic

8 Straying Away from the Fold

I strayed away from Drake and had a fictional dalliance with Bastein - how will Drake react?

Word Count 3677

A/N I felt guilty for neglecting Drake and writing some steamy scenes about Bastien, and this came to me very quickly. Sorry Drake, I love you really xx

PS I may have added some of you that discovered my work through Protect and Serve. If you don’t want to be tagged let me know - or if you like this and want to catch up, here’s the first chapter

No warnings, just a little reference to sexy times

8 Straying away from the fold

Drake paced the waiting area, his mind whirling. Les had promised him he was her virtual one and only – but was it true? It had started as a joke – she perved over pictures of another man – another REAL man who was a face claim for the man he thought of as a father figure, and he had teased her about it, modified his specs to give him a washboard stomach to rival the competition. But she had then gone on to write about him – and Drake was there on the sidelines watching it all happen in the story, pushed to second place. Les had written a new fic where Bastien was the main love interest, and it hurt. She had barely been to see him – some lame excuse about being on holiday and not having time. It had been more than two weeks since she’d been to visit him in person, and nothing had been written about him at all. Instead she’d been working on a slow burn with his mentor – and then the slow burn had broken. He couldn’t access the chapters as he wasn’t in them but he had heard that they were hot stuff, and virtual Bastien had been avoiding him – or was it the other way round?

He set his jaw and made his mind up. Time to have it out with him…

I sighed. It had been a long journey home, and truth be told, I needed a holiday to get over the holiday. Not only that, but on the way home we had picked up our daughter, who would be staying for a few days. I missed Drake, but it seemed like I wouldn’t have time to see him properly. My holiday had been wonderful, but I’d been too tired at night to go into the virtual world to see my lover. I felt guilty for neglecting Drake – and for paying so much attention to Bastien. It wasn’t the same of course – I didn’t meet up with the guardsman in the virtual world, I just wrote about him. I hadn’t really written much on holiday, just queued up chapters that had already been completed, tweaking them a little and adding just one or two more scenes.

How could I reach out to Drake? I thought on my first night back it might have been possible, but our daughter kept late hours and although she wasn’t in the house, she could return at any minute, and seeing her mother supposedly asleep at the keyboard might not be the best experience, especially as I was sometimes flustered or emotional when I returned suddenly. I thought perhaps I could make a short visit to the virtual world – but my day had been so busy that my brain decided it was time for bed even before my partner had retired – so that was that…

‘Where’s Bastien?’ demanded Drake, glowering at Madeleine, who sat behind the desk at Choice’s virtual reception desk. She looked up, bored

‘Which one?’ she asked flatly. Drake’s blood pressure – or whatever passed for blood pressure in his world – started to climb. He leaned over the desk close to her

‘You know damn well which one’ he growled ‘Unless you’ve been living under a stone, Les has been writing one with him as the main love interest, and I need to talk to him’ Madeleine stared back at him stony faced

‘I wouldn’t know darling, I don’t actually read or experience any fics that don’t involve me – why should I?’ Drake’s jaw tensed and he took a deep breath

‘But you keep records of all the relevant stories and who’s involved?’

‘It’s classified’ she said drily ‘Need to know basis only’

‘I NEED TO KNOW’ Drake shouted, throwing his hands up in the air, and one or two passing characters looked over at him

‘Please keep your voice down, or I’ll have to ask you to step away’ replied Madeleine ‘Or call security’ He leaned over the counter and grimaced at her

‘Fine, call security. Bastien’s on duty, isn’t he?’ He smirked triumphantly. The receptionist sighed

‘I don’t have access to that information Sir’ she said, and pressed a bell, sitting back ‘You’ll be sorry. Virtual prison is not pleasant, I should know after protesting at my own treatment’ A door behind her opened and Bastien walked through, his dark suit immaculate, his beard and dark hair trimmed neatly. He sighed when he saw Drake, who was trying not to vault the high counter to get at him.

‘Son, don’t do anything you’ll regret’ Bastien said sadly.

‘Please, don’t hold back on my account’ the receptionist said ‘Things have been dull around here lately’

‘You know why I’m here’ Drake said ‘Come out and face me like a man’ He knew Bastien would probably kick his backside in any physical confrontation, but it would feel good to get a punch in before he took him down. Bastien stood calmly against the younger man’s ire.

‘We need to talk son, but you need to stay calm.’ He said ‘come through to one of the security suites and we can do this in private.’ He pressed a button and indicated a door to the side of the reception desk. Drake didn’t know where it lead.

‘Are you going to put me in limbo?’ he asked ‘There’s no way in hell I’m going in there’ Bastien turned to Madeleine.

‘Tell him, your grace’ he said, still calm and collected.

‘It’s fine Drake, it leads to a room where you can talk to Bastien on the other side of a security screen so you can’t get at him. There’s no lock on the door, you can leave whenever you like’ she said ‘Though I favour you talking out here in public, I don’t get to hear much gossip’ Drake glowered at her. He didn’t trust her, and his trust in Bastien had been shaken, but he thought it would be too complicated for them to cook up a plan together to deceive him.

‘Okay, I’m trusting you. If this is bullshit you’ll regret it’ He went though the door, to find a plain room with a desk and chair facing a clear window in the wall. Bastien appeared on the other side and sat at his desk, elbows on the table. Drake paced the room, trying to keep himself together

‘I’m sorry it’s come to this, son’ the guard said ‘But we need to clear the air before I can trust meeting you face to face’

‘Don’t call me son’ Drake turned to the screen and poked a finger at him ‘You and Les…’

‘Sophia and I’ the guard corrected ‘It’s not Les, to make it clear. You’re her primary contact here, always have been’ Drake deflated slightly, and sat on the chair facing the screen.

‘So how was it?’ he asked the older man, tight lipped ‘I’ve heard things about the latest chapters – that you’ve been – intimate with – with Sophia’ Bastien sighed

‘Yes Walker, yes I have, and I won’t pretend I didn’t enjoy it. But I have never met Les in person, everything has just been in chapter, and she hasn’t discussed anything with me – no mention of whether I’m happy to play the role, or if there might be conflicts with my own personal preferences’ He looked up at him, concern in his eyes ‘Have you spoken to her about it?’ Drake’s ire was cooling now as he thought it through rationally.

‘Well no – she said she was on holiday… but it’s been almost three weeks now, and she hasn’t written a word about me, or visited.’ He looked up at him ‘Wait – conflicts? Preferences? are you not happy with the way she’s treated you?’ Bastien smiled wryly

‘Well it’s all been rather flattering, but I can’t help feeling like a piece of meat – do you not get that sometimes with some writers?’ Drake squirmed slightly

‘I guess so, some of them do get overheated’ There was a silence, during which Drake pulled at his ear nervously. The guard radiated calm and stability.

‘I believe you can pick and choose your – interactions when Les is around’ said Bastien. ‘There is more interest in my character thanks to her and some other writers, but I don’t always have the choice as to what I play. In fact it’s rather a novelty to be able to. I’m not just playing with Sophia, you know, I do have other contacts’

‘I’m sorry Bas, I got wound up. It’s not your fault, it’s just my insecurities. But why do you think she hasn’t written about me lately? I miss her’ He sighed heavily.

‘Do you think you could stand to be next to me without taking a swing?’ Bastien asked ‘To be truthful I’m not feeling as strong as usual, my stamina has been – compromised thanks to Sophia’ Drake looked at him sideways.

‘Heh – welcome to the club Bas. Good job virtual stamina is more powerful than the real thing – from what I’ve heard’

‘Yes indeed’ rumbled the guard. ‘You can use your virtual privileges to go and visit that dive bar where it all started if you like’ Drake rubbed the back of his neck.

‘I’m kind of running out of juice now Les has been away so long’ he said sadly.

‘Well I have some to spare’ smiled Bastien ‘Come on son, let’s have a drink together’

I sat at the keyboard. Our daughter had gone home and at last I should have some uninterrupted time for visiting Drake. It had been an interesting experience writing another love interest, but I missed my lover and hoped he wasn’t too angry with me. I had poured a lot of energy into Bastien, but I was kind of burned out. I was looking forward to reconnecting, and closed down the document I was working on, ready to follow him wherever he was.

I frowned. Drake wasn’t there – not at first. Then his face appeared, and I smiled but he did not respond.

This is Drake Walker. The Drake Walker you are trying to contact is not available right now. Please wait and you will be passed along to the first Drake Walker available. If no-one is available you may have to wait before making another attempt. Please wait to be connected…

The picture faded, and a buzzing sound ensued, like a call waiting signal. I waited, until a tousle haired Daniel Tomasso type Drake came into view. It looked as if he had just woken up – or been interrupted mid session with whoever his current lover was

‘Hey Les, what’s up? Kate says hi’ he grinned ‘Sorry for the appearance, we were – busy’ I immediately knew which one she was talking to, and blushed

‘I’m sorry to interrupt’ I said ‘I don’t seem to be able to get hold of my man’ Dan/Drake turned away from the screen and there was a muffled conversation before he turned back to her. ‘Ah yeah, he was getting a bit antsy with you away. I think he want to talk with Bastien’ I felt my blood freeze. How could I have been so insensitive? What did Drake think of me, writing steamy love scenes with another character – and such bad timing, just before I was away and he didn’t have the chance to talk it over with me.

‘B-Bastien?’ I stammered ‘I – oh heck, that doesn’t sound good’ Drake nodded to me, beckoning me to the screen.

‘I think you’d better come through and we’ll go and find him’ he said ‘Hold on a moment while I make myself decent’ A few moments later he held his hand to the screen for me to follow, and I stood next to him in the bedroom at the Palace that he and Kate shared. Kate was there too and stepped forward to give me a hug.

‘Les, it’s been too long. Did you have a good vacation?’ I nodded

‘Yes it was wonderful. I was hoping to share with my man, but he’s gone awol. I think he might be upset with me’

‘Oh honey, that’s too bad. You need to talk with him, don’t let him brood and sulk, you know how Drake is – or are.’ Kate frowned in concern. I sighed and turned to Dan/Drake.

‘Well I’d better bite the bullet. Shall we start at the waiting area? Perhaps Madeleine knows where he is’ Drake sucked his breath in between his teeth

‘Oh hell, Madeleine? Do I have to come?’ I sighed

‘I suppose not. Wish me luck’ Kate glared at her man

‘Afraid of little Miss Ice Queen, Ducky?’ she said, and he looked sheepish.

‘Not afraid Kate’ he asserted ‘Cautious, but not afraid’

‘It’s fine, I made this mess and I’ll clean it up’ I said despondently. ‘I guess I’ll see you round’ I gave them a little wave and closed my eyes, opening them at the reception desk. Madeleine turned toward me, pale blue eyes locked on mine.

‘Well look who the cat dragged in’ she said tartly ‘Your friend was asking after you a little while ago’ I braced herself, determined not to let her get to me.

‘Well Madeleine, you would know I suppose. You’d also know where he is right now, as you’re so efficient and well organised.’ The other woman pursed her lips

‘And why might I tell you?’ she asked sweetly.

‘Well Madeleine, it may have escaped your notice that I’m on good terms with Bastien’ I bluffed ‘and I’m told he has powers to discipline anyone who doesn’t – oh I don’t know, do their job properly, be helpful to visitors’ Madeleine paled slightly.

‘Perhaps I do know where he is, just wait a moment’ she tapped away at her keyboard, looking at the screen ‘Ah there he is’ she looked up at me ‘You may not like this’

‘Try me’

‘The Drake Walker you’re trying to locate is currently at the dive bar in New York – and Bastien is there too. The scene has gone dormant but as soon as you arrive it will pick right up where it stopped’

‘Dormant?’ I asked

‘Yes, when an author has been absent for a while, their characters can run out of energy, especially if they are exclusive to that author. I thought you knew that’ she smiled sweetly, looking away to tap at her keyboard and peruse the screen ‘It has been a while since you visited, according to my records’ I swallowed. Poor Drake, I really had neglected him. I hoped he wasn’t suffering, but I dared not ask Madeleine.

‘Okay Madeleine, thanks for your help’

‘Oh not at all, it’s what I’m here for’ she said acidly and gave me a strained smile.

I closed her eyes and thought of the bar, a sick heavy feeling in my stomach. Before I opened them, I smelled whisky and and the faint whiff of greasy smoke, as if someone had let the burgers burn. I opened them, to see..

Drake sitting at the bar, Riley on his knee, laughing and joking, Bastien leaning on the bar next to him, a glass of whiskey in hand. He was the first to see me and straightened up, his face flushing slightly before he got control of his features. He put his hand on Drake’s shoulder.

‘We have company, son’ he said gravely, and Drake turned to see me. He jumped guiltily and Riley fell off his knee laughing, holding onto the bar to stay upright.

‘You!’ he slurred, pointing at me ‘you…’ his face fell ‘You came back.’

‘Well it looks like you didn’t miss me much’ I said, glaring at Riley. Drake drew himself up, and put his arm around Bastien, squeezing and shaking him slightly. The guard took it stoicly, face impassive.

‘And you – you had fun with someone else from what I’ve heard’ he said accusingly ‘Isn’t that right, Bas’ he prodded the older man, who looked embarrassed for a second. I shifted uncomfortably.

‘I’m not the only one to write about more than one love interest’ I said defensively ‘I was just – stretching myself’ Drake laughed

‘Is that what they call it now?’ he said, his voice rising a little and stepping unsteadily towards me. I swallowed

‘Look Drake, yes I did write about Bastien. But you were in it too, and you were friends with Sophia, you’ll be playing a bigger part later on. You could always ask someone else to play it out if you don’t like being second fiddle.’ Drake swayed a little and the guard caught at his elbow to steady him.

‘How come you’ve been gone so long? Afraid to face me after that – that fuck fest with Bastien?’ He waved his arms wildly and I blushed to the roots of my hair.

‘I told you I’d be away. I was too tired in the evenings to come over, and then my daughter came home with me…’ Drake interrupted me at this point

‘Ha – got you – you don’t have a daughter’ he said triumphantly, stabbing his finger at me. Tears pricked my eyes and my throat tightened.

‘I – I told you Drake, our younger child is a trans woman, she came out about a year ago. It’s confusing, but we’ve started calling her our daughter now – we saw her on the way down and – she dressed up and we called her by her new name’ Drake’s face paled and he deflated.

‘Oh god – oh Les, I’m sorry – how could I – hell, I’m an idiot’ He pulled his hand over his face. Bastien cleared his throat.

‘It seems to me you two should probably go somewhere private and talk things out’ he said ‘I’ll take Riley out, unless you have a place in mind’ Drake and I looked at each other warily, then he surged forward and hugged me. I sniffled and hugged him back.

‘Les, I missed you so much’ he said, his voice muffled in my hair ‘you didn’t leave me any messages’

‘I’m so sorry, I just didn’t have time – and I guess I got a little carried away with Bastien. But it was just a fling. I’m sorry Bas’ I said over his shoulder ‘No offence meant’ The guard nodded sagely

‘None taken’ he replied, winking ‘Sophia was a marvellous diversion, but I have others’ Bastien took Riley’s hand, and the two of them left. Drake and I stood back from each other.

‘I missed you too Drake, but I just couldn’t get away’ I said softly ‘Can you forgive me?’ He sighed heavily.

‘I was a jerk. Luckily Bastien has the patience of a saint and I managed not to punch him into the middle of next week – which is probably possible here’ he grinned. ‘and I’m so sorry for getting it wrong about your daughter, that was crass.’ We clung to each other again, moulding together, feeling each other’s physicality, or whatever it might virtually be. There was solidity, warmth, breath, heartbeat – all so real, I wasn’t sure what the difference was any more. He drew away from me and held me at arm’s length, looking into my eyes

‘So how is it with your daughter?’ he asked ‘I’m here for you if you need it’

‘It’s fine – well it’s a bit weird, but she looks so comfortable when she’s wearing a dress and make up. I keep switching from one name to another but it’s fine, she understands it’s not easy for us either.’

‘Well she’s lucky to have supportive parents’ he said ‘Of course I’ve nothing to compare it with, but that’s common sense’ We hugged again. ‘So how long do you think you can stay?’ he asked

‘How long is a piece of string?’ I laughed ‘Things are back to normal, so hopefully for a while’ He held me tighter.

‘Did I - was I okay when you first saw me?’ he said ‘I may have run out of energy, stopped…’ he looked a little fearful.

‘Honestly, Madeleine said you were dormant, but I didn’t see anything, you probably started up as soon as I landed’

‘That’s good. Early on I really ran out of juice and one of my previous companions said it took me a few minutes to come back up’ he shivered ‘it was like – well I don’t know what it was like but it wasn’t nice.’ I squeezed him again.

‘I’ll try not to be away so long again’ I said ‘It’s rare we go for more than three days so you should be okay.’

‘Good’ he said ‘Hey, how was your holiday?’

‘There were a few sticky patches but overall it was lovely’ I said ‘The weather was just right, I got a bit of a tan, and the place we were staying was good.’

‘Sticky patches huh?’ he asked ‘Do you want to share?’

‘Hmm let’s see, I had almost a whole bottle of shower gel leak in my bag, the fire alarm went off in the hotel, and hubby lost his photo ID.’

‘He lost it? Weren’t you waiting for it and you got it just in time before you went?’ he asked

‘Yup, we got there okay, then he said he couldn’t find it. We looked everywhere in the apartment and in the car. My stress levels went sky high and I was ready to push him off a cliff, but we found it the next day – it had fallen down the side of the driver’s seat in the car’

‘I bet you didn’t let him forget that’ he laughed

‘Yeah, that was a double edged sword’ I replied ‘I put it with mine in my purse, then he wouldn’t stop asking me where my purse was’

‘Ha, that sounds like fun’

‘Well, I thought now my memory is refreshed, we could go there together and I’ll show you all my favourite places’

‘Great, what are we waiting for? Let’s go!’ Drake took my hand and squeezed it excitedly.

@ao719 @agent-bossypants @andy-loves-corgis @sleepwalkingelite@boneandfur @blackcatkita @brightpinkpeppercorn @choicescommunity@darley1101 @drakewalkerrosenberg @debramcg1106 @fluffy-marshmallow-heart @goirishsunshine @gardeningourmet @livingthroughchoices@likethetailofacomet @mrs-nazario @mind-reader1 @ooo-barff-ooo@silviasutton1989 @speedyoperarascalparty @zaffrenotes @missevabean@mrsdrakewalkerblog @cora-nova @missameliep @tanelle83 @endlessly-searching-for-you @jlouise88 @drakenazario @tabithacarlisle@furiousherringoperatortoad @notoriouscs @classylady1234@wickedgypsymoon @carabeth @choices-fangirl @indiana-jr @indiacater@noey718-blog @katedrakeohd @bobasheebaby @annekebbphotography@kennaxval @sirbeepsalot @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @aworldoffandoms@iplaydrake @drakesensworld @drakewalkerisreal@samcpossum @melodyofgraves @khakie4 @museofbooks @be-still-my-aching-heart @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @hopefulmoonobject @emceesynonymroll @dcbbw @cgd03 @simsvetements @mrsdrakewalkerblog @ladyangel70 @crookedslimecreatorpasta

#the many lives of drake walker #drake walker #drake x oc #trr fanfic #trr au fanfic #royal romance au #the royal romance au #bastien lykel

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bucky-iss-bae · 5 years

Text

Love Yourself (Stony) - Part 2

Fandom: Marvel Pairing: Stony (Steve x Tony) Summary: After Civil War Tony and Steves relationship falls to pieces as do both Tony and Steve - A Loose Enemies to Friends to Lovers - Very Loose. Warnings: Angst, swearing, I think I made Steve look like a really bad guy and a prick. But I do love him. A/N: So this is the first multiple part fic that I’m posting, one of many xoxo Hey all, here’s part 2 out of 3 on my Stony Fic. As a writer, I’m still growing so sorry if the characterisation is a little out, but hope you all enjoy x

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Stony (Steve x Tony)

Summary: After Civil War Tony and Steves relationship falls to pieces as do both Tony and Steve - A Loose Enemies to Friends to Lovers - Very Loose.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, I think I made Steve look like a really bad guy and a prick. But I do love him.

Masterlist Fandom List

Love Yourself - Part 2

Living in such close proximity to someone that Tony wanted to avoid was proven to be more difficult than he thought. Especially if he was still madly in love with that certain someone, yet wanted to avoid them like the plague. But of course, he would never admit the former to anyone. Ever.

But he understood that they shared mutual friends. That they had the same family, and that despite everything you can’t split up a family despite how heartbroken he was.

Tony had done the good thing of clearing everyone’s names from what happened in Germany, everyone aside from Bucky and Steve’s names. Despite it being more difficult than said, especially since they didn’t have a lot of trust in who didn’t want to go along with the accords.

The easiest if anything was to make sure Barton was free, seeing as he was ‘retired’ aside from the odd opp, or the cold cases he didn’t do much, he had SHIELD at his disposal yet the only person he took orders from was Fury.

Wilson was out of the goodness of his heart. He had a good relationship with Rhodey, and helped with his recovery and between Tony and Sam there was a mutual understanding.

T’Challa made sure that Steve and Bucky had their freedom, Tony couldn’t in his heart after everything that the three of them specifically went through to help them. They left him, so why should he help them?

Steve did try to talk to Tony, from time to time. Each time Tony nearly gave in. Nearly. Bucky, it was a different story, despite saying that Tony wouldn’t help them. He helped Bucky a lot.

After Bucky was put under in Wakanda, and once they returned to New York he had a new arm. One with nanotechnology that Tony understood and had to work with especially after missions to ensure everyone's safety.

Trusting either of them in battlefields wasn’t something he wasn’t comfortable with, instead it spiked his anxiety, and he soon realized they were trying to prove their worth, and trying to prove that they were on the same team as Tony.

Tony soon started to grow from everything. Over time he got used to living in the same space as his ex, he got used to being around Bucky. Started showing his face more around the compound, started eating more, sleeping more, smiled and laughed more. Peter helped with this, made him happier. But whenever he saw Steve he hurt on the inside. He hurt but he numbed that pain out, still ignoring him unless it was to do with a mission.

But the thing Tony didn’t realize that helped him heal was helping Bucky. Learning who Bucky was and how he wasn’t the Winter Soldier. The one that killed his parents.

When working on Bucky's arm, ensuring it was safe enough, or mending any damage through missions, they had to endure spending time with one another.

“Why are you doing this?” Bucky whispered one day in the lab. Just the two of them, sometimes Natasha, Wanda, or Sam were wandering around. This time it was only the two of them.

“For the safety of my team”

“I mean why didn’t you get Shuri involved, get her to do it rather than doing this when we both know you hate me”

“Because it’s easier if I do it. Now I really don’t want to talk Barnes because yes I do hate you. I hate you because you killed my parents. But I also hate you because I know it wasn’t you who killed them. I hate you because the first time I genuinely loved someone, I was left for dead by them. And as much as I know it’s not your fault. There’s no one else to blame Barnes”

Bucky once again let the guilt fill him up after hearing this. He felt guilty over something he had no control over, Tony knew this and Tony regretted opening his mouth. Both in the lab too caught up in their own feelings to talk to the other.

Shuri had shown Tony everything, how scattered Barnes’ brain was. Shuri showed and explained the advance science behind everything. Tony learning so much more than he would’ve ever realized. How Bucky was closer to self-destructing than recovering was scary since the science behind it showed everything.

Forgiving Bucky was not on Tony’s agenda, but he saw a piece of him in Bucky. He saw how they both suffered from anxiety, how they both were trapped in their own minds. Their own nightmares. They were both their own worst enemies.

“I’m sorry, for everything I caused” Bucky whispered, his voice slightly cracking, “For taking away everything you’ve ever loved. Steve included. I know that you love him. I know that before I came back, the two of you were a couple. And I’m sorry I broke you both apart. I see it in Steve, he’s hurting because of it, he tries to hide it, but I know it’s my fault.”

“I know you never caused any of this Barnes. You didn’t break us apart. He has done that all by himself.”

Those few words between them allowed some air between them to be cleared up. It almost took their lack of relationship to another level. They knew they weren’t friends, but they knew they were along the way. The tension between them had been eased, which even allowed them to have time outside of the lab to talk and interact with one another.

“What happened between yourself and Barnes?” Wanda asked getting coffee one morning.

“Nothing, why?”

“Well... in the last few days. You’ve spoken to him outside of the lab, joked with him, even asked how he was and if he wanted coffee.” She said waving her mug in the air.

“We talked it out a few days ago. I told him I understand. We now have somewhat mutual respect for one another”

“How about Steve. Have you two spoken yet?” She pushed

Tony grimaced at that, “No. That’s different. Only in meetings”

She nodded her head before sipping on her coffee, “Peter will be here today, won’t he? For the weekend?” She asked, changing subjects.

“Yeah, Happy is getting the kid. His aunt said he can stay around as long as there are no secret missions. Not until he at least finishes high school, which I completely agree on”

“I’m sure being an Avenger will look better on his resume than a high school diploma,” Barton said walking in with Wilson and Barnes closely behind. Those two looked like they just got back from a run, Wilson going right for the juice in the fridge and drinking straight from the carton,

“Gross, man. Could you not the rest of us might want some of that as well” Barnes said taking the carton off of Wilson and drank from it as well,

“Hypocrite” Sam grumbled whilst Barnes grinned at him,

“I hate you, I really do. I cannot express how much I hate you”

“I love you too” Barnes winked at Wilson before turning his attention on everyone else.

“So the spider kid is coming today then huh?”

“You two are not allowed to bully this kid and this is coming from me,” Clint said whilst putting an unhealthy amount of sugar into his coffee.

“Us? Bullying him? That’s preposterous, outrageous, completely absurd. We are fine gentlemen of this community, some of us being part of the elderly community, and you know what the old folks are like” Sam said throwing a hand on Barnes’ shoulder, “They just hate the youth sometimes. The youth and their technology, and memes. So maybe, just maybe, this old age pensioner has a slight dislike towards him or acts differently towards him because they were both raised in New York in completely different times, and he’s just not with it any longer. But nah jokes aside, in reality, the kid is good fun, we never bully him it’s all fun and games, he knows that, and we know that, he’s our friend!”

“The kid talks a different language. It’s slightly scary. I still have no clue what memes are, I don’t even understand what Wilson says most the time” Barnes grumbled.

“You see what I always gotta deal with?” Sam asked,

“Hold up, what you gotta deal with?” Clint asked.

“Thought you could see anything Hawkeye” Wanda smirked at him.

“Wait what?” Tony asked looking between everyone.

Sam and Bucky were just stood there rising their eyebrows and smirking at everyone else,

“Same man. Same” Clint murmured, “So are you two bangin’ or what?”

“Thought that was obvious about a month ago?” Sam said while grinning.

“But you hate each other” Tony Pitched in, “You bitch about one another to each other all the time, all you ever say to me is how much Wilson annoys you whenever I’m fixing you up”

“My way of showing affection and love.”

“Damn, that has fucked with my mind Wanda how did you know?”

“How would I not know?”

Tony realized how this changed the friendship between Steve and Bucky. How it was a friendship, but that didn’t change Tony’s betrayal, all it confirmed was that Steve didn’t have romantic feelings for Bucky when he left with him.

“You know it’s like women have a sixth sense in this type of stuff? Because it's creepy how you guys always see more than we ever do” Barton asked Wanda.

“I’m sure your wife can answer that for you Clint”

Clint looked confused and looked at Tony who shrugged, “Don’t look at me man, I’m not your wife”

Clint just snorted at that but not long later Peter arrived at the compound happy to see everyone.

Despite being around his friends and the closest he could get to family, Steve had never felt more alone. He was a fugitive for so long, constantly on the run and it meant he could never stop to think, but now everything was back to normal, he was missing one of the most important people in his life. That person was Tony Stark.

Since Siberia, and everything that was revealed, Steve hadn’t been himself. He was on one hand reunited with his best friend since childhood, his best friend for just under a hundred years, but at the cost of losing the love of his life. The man he could see himself spending the rest of his life with was on the other side of the fight in Germany, and things were different from there on. There might’ve been a chance for recovery at that stage, but Siberia burnt that down. The fight between Tony and Bucky essentially meant he had to choose a side.

Either way, he would’ve regretted who he chose, but he knows that Bucky needed him, and he knows that he doesn’t regret it as much as he would’ve to leave Bucky.

But now, now everything is back to normal, everything aside from the relationship between Tony and Steve. Even Bucky and Sam had one another, and Steve was happy, happy that his both of his best friends had one another, despite their relationship being different than others, they knew they loved each other despite the mocking arguments that they have, their way of showing affection.

Since being back, Steve has tried ways to take his mind off of being so close to Tony yet so far, it involved training up SHIELD agents, despite his tarnished reputation, it involved training constantly doing anything to get his mind off of Tony, but he couldn’t.

He knew that Bucky and Tony had repaired their non-existent relationship, that they spoke more so than Steve and Tony had in the last few months. And at this point, Steve just wanted to at least talk to Tony, allow them to try to repair the tension between them. The last time he tried, Tony was in a bad place, and since he hasn’t been as bad in terms of eating and sleeping, and talking with everyone else because now the only person in the compound he kept his distance from was Steve.

Steve watched him, made sure he was ok, he got Sam to keep an eye on him, he constantly asked Natasha for updates on him, same for Wanda.

“You need to talk to him, Steve. Both of you are exactly the same, but he feels betrayed by you. He says he got over it, everyone knows he hasn’t and won't. So the two of you need to talk”

“He won’t talk to me, Nat. He won’t”

“Last time he never, just try again. See if you can with the basics. Acquaintances, friends. Alright”

Steve just nodded unsure on how he would approach Tony again after last time. This time he figured he could do it in open space that was still away from everyone else, probably his lab, maybe the gym.

Which is where he managed to get Tony next, it was 3am, and the gym was empty when he went in there, unable to sleep and he knew the only things he could do was go up against the punching bags.

He was shocked to see Tony there on the treadmill at such a late hour, and tony saw him, neither of them saying anything for a few moments,

“Couldn’t sleep either?” Steve asked Tony, saying the first thing that seemed reasonable to say.

“No” Tony replied back shortly,

Steve just nodded and went to wrap his hands,

“How... how have you been?” Steve warily asked Steve, his eyes shifting from the hand wraps to Tony.

“I’m in here at 3am, what do you think?”

Steve sighed, “Tony, we need to talk. We need to straighten things out. I need to apologise, I miss talking to you, I miss being around you”

Tony let out a bitter chuckle at this, “You are around me Steven. You're in my compound are you not?”

“That’s not what I meant Tony. You know this”

“You’re right, I do know this. How do I know you won’t betray me again Steven?”

“I can’t make up for what I’ve done in the past Tony. I’m sorry though, and I know sorry won’t cut it, but I want to build something between us again, I want to prove to you that I... I won’t betray you again. I won’t walk away from you again unless you want me to”

“And what if I do want you to? You’ve done it before, shouldn’t be too hard again should it?”

“You think it wasn’t hard for me? Tony, I Love you! I still do! I will always Love you. At that time I had to choose between the Love of my life and my best friend since before the damn war. It wasn’t an easy choice, but the way things went down in Germany, I wasn’t going to be easily forgiven for anything. So saving Bucky was all I could do at the time”

Tony had a grimace plastered on his face, “Bucky, I’ve spoken to him. Not a bad guy. Different from what I expected. I know it wasn’t him who killed my parents” Tony said ending the sentence with a whisper, “I know it was the Winter Soldier, Hydra. But he’s a good guy, him and Sam, they’re good for each other”

“How about us Tony. We were good for each other”

“We were” Tony agreed, “But that doesn’t mean I trust you, Steve. You knew everything, about how I felt, about how everyone in my life has walked out. The anxiety I have gone through in the last few years. Yet you, you do the same as everyone else”

“I’ve come back though. I wanted to be back with you Tony. I didn’t want to walk the way I did”

“You still did it though Steve”

“Let me prove to you that you can trust me then. However long it takes Tony. Let me prove myself, this time I will not walk away, I won’t betray you, just let me prove myself”

Tony looked at Steve with an intent look in his eye, “You got one chance Rogers. I’m still not over what happened last time. And this doesn’t mean we’re anything aside from acquaintances, friends even”

Steve couldn’t help the smile that broke out on his face, and Tony couldn’t hold back the small smile on his, they both felt a small sense of relief. From going from Lovers to Enemies, they took a big step in order to become friends with one another again. And this time Steve will prove to Tony that it’s just him. And Tony may or may not try to be as stubborn as he is.

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bookenders · 5 years

Text

11/11/11

Tagged by @aslanwrites! Thank you so much! These are some really good questions.

I got a little long-winded answering some of these. 🙃 Welcome to my brain.

Rules: Answer 11 Questions, Ask Eleven Questions, Tag Eleven People!

Why did you start writing?

I’ve never been asked this before. Huh. When people ask me why I write, I usually joke and say “because I’m not good at anything else” or “it’s the one thing that I haven’t gotten bored of.” But why I started? If I think way, way, waaaay back, it might be because I had questions I didn’t want to ask with my voice, so I put them down in words. Why does this? What would happen if? Who would? Let’s find out.

What writing advice do you adhere to?

If I were to list all of it, we’d be here all day.

But there is some key advice that has stuck with me: make sure your scenes/stories are grounded in a location as early as possible so the audience isn’t confused, even if you’re being artsy; the way you stylize dialogue tags should make sense for the story (e.g. no tags, no quotation marks, italics); too much poetic prose will make the great lines seem average; if you say you’re going all-in, go all-in, or the story will suffer; and when editing, read your work out loud (you’ll catch rhythm and acoustics errors this way, as well as wonky grammar and phrasing).

What writing advice do you disagree with?

A lot of what you can hear in workshops, actually. And a lot of what beginners are told. Yes, you have to learn the rules to be able to break them with skill and confidence, but there’s teaching and then there’s policing. I think a lot of writing advice with hard boundaries of “can/can’t” or “do/don’t” is sketchy. Like “show don’t tell”? Should be “there’s a time and place for each, find it.”

Do you think “Said” is dead?

No way! I’m one of those stodgy writers who prefers “said” over most other dialogue tags. I don’t use them unless they’re significant or necessary, which is rarely, and I prefer to punctuate dialogue with action, anyway. Using dialogue tags should never detract or distract from the actual narrative going on. If you use different tags every single line, your readers will be annoyed.

Said, like rock and roll, never died.

Favorite drink when writing?

Used to be coffee when I was in school, but now it’s tea or water, occasionally peach juice. English or Irish Breakfast, typically. I’m a black tea kind of gal.

What’s your favorite app to write on? Or do you prefer notebooks?

Scrivener! It’s awesome. I used to write in Word, but then I found out about Scrivener and bought it as a birthday gift to myself when they had a discount. Before my stupid dumb injury, I wrote in notebooks and on random papers most of the time, but reading my notes afterward was nearly impossible because my handwriting is awful when I go fast and there were papers everywhere.

Who or what is your biggest inspiration?

When I started, it was Laurie Halse Anderson. Then it was the readers. Now it’s all of the possibilities. Like, have you ever taken a second to think of what writing can do, and has done in the past? Plato thought poets were too dangerous to be allowed in his ideal Republic! So many successful books and essays were written by imprisoned artists! People find themselves in books every day, and their discoveries help them learn that they’re not alone. (The first time I saw my identity represented in a book, I cried.) When characters succeed despite all odds, we cheer. When they struggle and fail and bring themselves back from the brink of disaster, our hearts leap and dive. When they find love of any kind, it warms us to our cores. That’s what inspires me.

What do you wish writers would do more of?

What they want! I see a lot of writers (beginners, especially) struggle with writing what’s popular or what everyone likes. When I was an editor, I saw a lot of short stories that followed whatever form and content the most recent hit had. That was kinda annoying. Don’t be afraid to be original! And don’t be afraid of the tropes! Put your own spin on it. No one has seen your ideas before, and that means they’re all original! Be weird! Do crazy things! Break the rules (with purpose!) and do what you want.

What do you wish writers would do less of?

Down themselves! Maintaining confidence is hard in this discipline/industry/craft/what have you, I know, but that doesn’t mean your work is terrible. It just means you need to keep at it until you feel better about your stuff. It takes a while, but you’ll get there. You’re living your passion! Own it!

What turns you away from a story?

From reading one? I adapt my turn-offs depending on what I’m reading. I have SUPER different expectations for published novels than I do fanfiction. Novels and stories published by big houses or big names have a lot less leeway than fanfic and original fiction posted online by the writer themselves.

In terms of content: weirdly pretentious first person narrators, unnecessary violence and sexual assault, too many song title drops without a reason, obvious plot devices/advancements without sufficient motive, and bone-dry/lifeless descriptions are the heavy hitters. Now that I think about it, anything present in the story that has zero purpose or reason for being there. Every book I’ve ever put down does that.

Thoughts on the whole “Mary Sue” topic?

Eh.

For young writers and those writing purposeful wish fulfillment stories, I say who cares, go for it. You’re learning writing, do what you want; or you’re doing it on purpose, so you know what’s up. I personally don’t like reading them very much because I like a little bit of torment in my fiction. I’ve seen arguments that the main protagonist of my favorite fantasy series is a Mary Sue, which, I mean, sure. But from what I’ve heard, Mary Sues are a bigger problem in RP groups.

You can get so caught up in making sure that your character isn’t a Mary Sue that you forget to make your character interesting. Which is bad. Your character(s) should have a reason for us to be following their story, but there also need to be challenges that they face to make the story interesting and engaging.

A couple Mary Sue qualities aren’t necessarily a bad thing! It only gets sketchy when you load them on like cheese on chili fries.

My 11 Questions:

What is your favorite punctuation mark?

If you write by hand, what is your favorite writing utensil to use? If you write with tech, what is your favorite font to write in? Or if you do both, both!

What is one book/story that hit you right in the heart? Or the book/story that has had the most impact on you?

What’s your favorite sentence/phrase you’ve written? What’s an amazing sentence/phrase someone else has written?

What about a story draws you in?

What are your favorite things/people/events to read or learn about?

What is your favorite word?

Cake or pie?

Do you collect anything? What is it and how many/much do you have?

Do you have a calendar? What kind is it?

Where do you like to sit in a movie theater?

Bilbo Taggins: @cawolters @floralandrogyny @katekyo-bitch-reborn @clarissalopeswriter @agentorange-writes @atbwrites @the-corner-girl @vnsmiles @toboldlywrite @wasting-ink-not-youth @somethingreallydeepandprofound

#writeblr #amwriting #writer #writer tag #about me #brainbox #tag game #11 questions #I got very long-winded my b #long post

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toknowyoumore · 5 years

Text

spoiler: it was a terrible idea... but i feel good

I’m gonna try a little something, and this could either be a kinda good or absolutely terrible idea. I need to write something important, but I’m not in a writing mood right now, at least for the topics I need to write about. But I know I’m at least a decent writer when it comes to things I do like writing about. That’s why I’m going to drink a fair amount of alcohol to get my creative juices flowing - and also to get me to sleep earlier than 5 am. I’m probably gonna take this down once I submit the actual thing.

Jameson and Canada Dry on the rocks pls glub glub glub

Okay, let’s start.

Growing up with a single mother wasn’t the easiest thing, especially when I heard her screams of pain in the early morning when I was in fifth grade. My mother was diagnosed with breast and brain cancer. Though I didn’t know at the time, my parents were separated. But I still remember the first time walking into the hospital with my dad and seeing Mom on the hospital bed. I remember her stopping midway during our conversation because she lost the ability to breathe. I remember not being in a panic but rather in confusion when my dad told me to go out and get a nurse to help immediately. And in about a minute, a nurse saw a 11-year-old child asking for help for his mom who wasn’t breathing. I remember seeing my mother in the room again afterwards - except now with some sort of breathing machine. I know now that that machine is called a ventilator.

Living was confusing after that. I didn’t know how to feel. I remember being scared at some points but not deathly afraid. I didn’t entertain the thought of Mom passing because the thought just wasn’t real to me. (Spoiler alert, she didn’t, and she’s still in top condition today despite a number of tumors throughout the years. I promise this won’t be a sappy story.) Or maybe I just didn’t correctly process my thoughts and emotions. Was there even a correct way? Maybe all of this just led to me becoming who I am now?

Fourth wall break - okay, so this was a terrible idea. I’m going so off track, and this whole thing was supposed to highlight my good side, but screw it, I’m gonna keep going with this and see where it leads. Before we continue, another glass pls glub glub glub thank you - fourth wall unbreak.

The purpose of me writing that story was to talk about a childhood experience and an example of how I overcame adversity. But now that I’ve arrived to this part of the page, I can’t really think of how I really overcame adversity here. Sure, I got through a hardship that would be difficult for any child, but I don’t remember ever being in deep anguish. In normal terms, this experience would make one more aware of the tribulations in the world and ultimately become more human. But somehow - thinking back to this moment - I’m being hit from all directions with, “It made you less human.” A human would typically mourn from this. I really didn’t, or at least I don’t think I did.

I got lazy. My grandmother took care of me at that point, but she didn’t force me to go to school. I almost had to repeat fifth grade because I had so many absences.

If someone wrote about this experience in their college essay, you may see something like, “From this, I took responsibility and started taking care of myself, building my time management skills and independence.” Nope, none of that here. I was an 11-year-old only child with a grandmother who struggled to walk up the stairs.

I barely had any actual friends in my elementary school, middle school, and most of high school. By “actual friends,” I mean people who I’d talk or chill with out of school. My only community really was my church. Even though we don’t see each other now as often or we’ve drifted apart, something special still resides in those bonds. Despite how I feel about the church and Christianity now, I know for a fact that the friends I had there made my life worthwhile. It’s what made me more human. It’s what got me through adversity.

It’s not about what I did that lifted me up. There wasn’t some switch that I just activated by myself in my brain that suddenly pushed me to take responsibility, start caring for my family, and being a decent person. It wasn’t me; it was my friends. I would always be inspired by them - their words, their actions, even their humor. I wanted to be like them. And over time, I think I changed for the better. And even today, I’ve been making it a goal - maybe even my top goal - to be a decent human being to others.

Fast forward to senior year of high school, when I’m applying to colleges. The common motif of myself and everybody on the planet - say it with me now, “I want to help people.” Who doesn’t? But how? The medical field was something that, to be honest, never really held my interest much back in high school. Some elements of being a medical doctor were appealing to me, though I just wasn’t very gung-ho about the entire thing. I apply to a local university as a safety because I know all my friends were going there, and in my back of my mind, I knew I was too. The local university allows me to apply to multiple schools of varying professions within itself. I apply to its pharmacy school on a whim. I get wait-listed. I then get accepted. My senior year crush decides to go to the same school. And before life offered me the pros and cons, I was a pharmacy student.

There is one big con I should mention though: I knew nothing about pharmacy. I didn’t care a lick about it. No one in my family is a pharmacist. I didn’t really have a “want” to do it. There was no reason for me to pursue it. The only reason I did have was that I could drop out of the program in two years if I didn’t like it without any repercussions. It was strategically sound.

Two years later, I still wasn’t sure about my decision. But just like the last two years flew by, the next one did. And then the next one. And then the next after that. There was never any love for pharmacy. It was, “study for this exam, take the exam, study for that exam, take that exam, memorize a script for this practical, ace the practical, start joining pharmacy organizations, don’t attend the meetings.” My interests during college were elsewhere. They were in leading worship, learning how to help people with depression, and hanging out with my friends, which were all amazing things. But pharmacy still had little room for passion in my life.

Then one year ago, in January 2018, things started to change. It was my last semester taking classes and exams. My rotation schedule for the next year was arranged. Pharmacy was suddenly starting to become much realer to me. Internal medicine, cardiology, emergency department, transitions of care - it was a lot. But for the first time, it didn’t feel like a drag. Rather, it felt like something I knew I had to do, however daunting it initially felt. And I wanted to excel at it. I asked early for extra projects. I went to networking events, which I never even thought about going to. I did things that were outside of my original scope of simply getting a pharmacy degree. I interviewed for a volunteer position at a clinic, where only two students would get accepted, and got it. I attended a class and got certified for mental health first aid, which literally no one told me to do. I quit my job at CVS. I borrowed a book from a local library to study for a certification exam, which I passed, to help me get a job elsewhere. I applied for jobs, which I didn’t get. I asked on a whim to shadow one of my professors at a behavioral health facility for a day and ended up with another research project on my hands to work on over the weekends. That semester was also the first time I was actually looking forward to a class - two to be exact: “Neuropsychiatric Therapeutics” and “Concepts in Psychiatric Pharmacotherapy.” My interests in mental health and pharmacy were colliding.

To this day, I still don’t know what happened. Maybe it was the rush of sweet change that got me working harder. Or maybe it was the “real world” that was finally looming over the horizon, and I wanted to quickly pack some stuff into my resume. Surely, there were some moments in that semester that I faked passion for pharmacy for the sake of making myself look better. But all of a sudden, pharmacy was starting to become more than just something that consumed my life every day with notes and exams. And for some bizarre reason, I was beginning to enjoy it.

There was no one who turned on my switch, no one who told me to take initiative - yet I was acting as if some sort of external force was pushing me to take leaps as a student. But there wasn’t.

My interests were finally lining up with what I was studying for about five years, and I was starting to take things into my hands to make it that way even more. Yes, that is why I was, at last, beginning to take hold a new passion for a profession that I never thought of myself being in. The interest in helping people, in being a decent human being, that I’ve built over the years because of my friends, my church - they were becoming tangible. There was no need for someone to flip a switch in my head. Something like this didn’t really need one.

And that’s what I’m hoping I could do. Whether that’d be now as a student or in the future as a pharmacist, I want to inspire others the same way that my friends inspired me in my past, to fuel people’s interests and motivations that they may not even know they have. The truth is, you’re helping people all the time. You don’t just have to be counseling them on a medication. And you don’t just have to be giving them a vaccination. You help people in your everyday actions and conversations. Every word of encouragement, every piece of advice, every lighthearted joke has a way of changing one’s life for the better. And as for yourself, you become a little bit closer to becoming that “decent human being.” Pharmacy is just one path - the path that I’ve taken - to help me to reach that goal.

There are still some things I fake, of course. Besides, I don’t know if this road ahead for me is the best one. But writing all this out - it’s clear I’ve come a long way already. And I know that even if this path doesn’t necessarily work, I’ll still probably learn something. Hopefully, at least.

Not the most horrible idea. But it’s still terrible because this goes so off-track about the topics I’m supposed to write for my real thing. Nevertheless, I feel pretty good about what I wrote. Also, it’s 5 am. The alcohol didn’t help with that at all.

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darksiders-scenarios · 6 years

Note

Hey. My horse is having some issues with colic and it's been a long couple of days. I was wondering if you would be willing to write a comfort or helpful scenario where the Horseman are trying to help reader deal with this type of problem?

It took a while, and constant battling writer’s anxiety but I managed to get around it. Because you’ve supported me immensely, I wanted to make this scenario a bit special for you. A slight War x Reader, based on your *ahem* preference… and boy is he chatty in here.

Anywho, Horsemen fluff. Well, Fury is the medic so not much of her lol. Hug Dakota for me, please. I hope he’s better now.

H/N: Horse name

You tensed when H/N’s pained snort reached your ears again.

H/N was lying on their side, their small earthen equine body cushioned against the contrastingly grand flank of Strife’s horse. Every time the pain flared, H/N would twist painfully to bite or kick themself in the side. Every time it happened, Strife’s steed would neigh in protest, as though scolding H/N for trying to hurt themself.

Above them, War brushed a bare hand across the soft pelt of their neck while murmuring soft syllables of an ancient tongue. Fortunately, H/N was comfortable with the rider, and their distress gradually eased. There was also something strangely touching in the way the little horse rubbed the underside of their neck over War’s uncovered head, causing his hair to ruffle and tangle lightly.

Across him, Fury’s head was bowed in concentration. Her arms were taut as her hands hovered over H/N’s ribs. An indigo glow engulfed her palms as she worked her healing magic to draw out the toxins from their body and soothe raw muscle aches. Whenever she has exerted herself, Death would take over without breaking momentum. Not far, Strife was occupied with cleaning the stable and ensuring that the area was clear of any bric-a-brac and clutter. He was bare of his armour, and you can see the sheen of sweat, cuts and grime that riddled his arms.

It was still humid even though the sun had long descended its peak. Desperate but wanting to be helpful, you had prepared a tray of cold juice for the Horsemen. To your relief, they all accepted gratefully. It didn’t seem to matter whether you refilled the glasses for the second or fifth time, they would still accept them without a word of objection. Whether it was due to pity or genuinely dehydrated throats, as long as you were made to feel useful in this, you didn’t care.

You wanted to grasp at anything to articulate your thanks for their large-hearted tolerance in aiding your horse.

Unfortunately, that came to an abrupt halt when you tripped over Strife’s helmet as you hurried across the yard. You yelped when you landed on your stomach, sending your tray and glasses flying. They landed in a clatter of metal and plastic, orange juice soaking into the deep-ash ground. The pain of momentary, but the fact that you lost your footing so easily galled you. The flash of anger quickly ebbed away when you felt strong hands on your stomach and back, and you were easily hauled back onto your feet. The same hands shifted to your shoulders, steadying you.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted, heart hammering. Above you, Strife chuckled. “You kept whizzing back and forth, back and forth, of course, it was bound to happen.” Unfortunately, the Horseman was unaware of his poor choice in wording and the stab of embarrassment plunged deep into your guts.

“It’s alright,” he tried to soothe, sensing your mounting distress. But you shrugged away from his touch, keeping your head low. “I forgot something,” you muttered a hasty lie, turning away and rushing into your home. H/N’s pained whinny blared through your eardrums as you closed the door behind you. Had you looked back, you would’ve noticed the Four share a look.

Once inside, you located the nearest chair and slumped in it. No sooner had you sank down did the dark and dreary imageries resume their assault on your aching brain, all of which involved your poor horse. You stared up at your pallid ceiling, feeling utterly useless. At least, the one thing you did right was removing yourself from their way, you thought grimly. Sighing, you dropped your head into your hands, ready to sink deeper into the mire of self-recrimination that threatened to engulf you.

It didn’t work.

The door opened and the breeze whooshed in for a moment before it clicked shut again. You didn’t look up but you knew who it was. The floor creaked under his metal boots as he stepped into the room. Moments later, your head snapped up to the sound of shuffling papers. War was standing at your table, his body was facing you but his head was tilted downwards.

“Your notes?” he queried, gesturing to the sheaf of frayed, doggy-eared pages.

You grimaced. “If you could even call it that,” you muttered, mostly to yourself but War’s enhanced hearing picked it. “Hasty, senseless, jumbled. Like me,” you smiled humourlessly.

“It’s good,” he commented.

You refrained from snorting. “Thank you.”

There was a long silence as you sat lost in your thoughts as War continued to leaf through your notes, his mind digesting your scribbles faster than the mortal mind. He then pulled out a chair from under your table and sat in front of you. The seat creaked under his weight. For a while, neither of you said anything. Eventually, you broke the silence with a quiet huff.

“What is it?” War asked.

“This,” you flicked your fingers to the small space between you and him. When he said nothing, you elaborated, “You coming here to see me. You’re obviously not here to critique my ‘notes’. ”

“Is that wrong?”

You looked up at him, surprised at his directness although you knew it was to be expected. “Why is it not? My health isn’t the one at risk here,” you pointed to your door, “H/N should be your priority,” you explained, equally blunt. “You should be out there helping your brothers.”

He frowned, as though unhappy with your reasoning. He thought for a moment and decided on a different course. “I understand your fear.”

Your gaze fell to the floor. “May I be candid?”

“Of course.”

“I find that hard to believe. And I mean no offense,” you added hurriedly.

“None taken. Would you like me to tell you about it?”

You raised your head, surprised. “Would you?”

“Given your present situation, it seems fitting that I share my experience with you.”

“Your…” you trailed off, uncertain how to continue. It was shocking enough for the quietest Horseman to be so vocal, but to divulge something so personal, his fear even, with you? A lesser being? Naturally, curiosity won in the end. You nodded, granting him permission.

War leant back in his chair and was silent for a moment. “It happened on Earth, in ancient Persia,” he began.

You tilted your head a fraction. “Iran?”

He nodded, and you briefly marveled at his remarkable retention of Earth’s history, ancient and modern.

“It was my first mission with Ruin. How alike, we were then. Young, naive bucks.” A faint smile appeared as he recollected the memory and you couldn’t help mirroring it. “My brothers had been relentlessly pestering me to make use of my steed, but for the longest of time I was adamant. ‘Ruin would only get in the way’, I argued. But the truth was that I was worried about his safety. Logic won ultimately, of course.”

“What changed your mind?” you asked, relaxing your arms over the armrest of your chair.

“The beast we were sent to destroy,” he carried on as though he didn’t hear you. “It was an Aži Dahāka."

"A what?”

“Do you remember Tiamat?” he asked.

“How can I not?” you chuckled.

“Imagine a beast four times her size, a three-headed Azhdarchid, or ‘dragon’ if you are more acquainted with the term.”

A blast of admiration and wonderment filled you. Being in the Horsemen’s company for so long, it dismayed you that you have taken their presence for oh so granted. What centuries of stories they could fill you with!

He continued. “It would’ve been suicidal had a single rider confronted it head-on, more so without the support of his steed,” his smile faded and his face darkened somewhat. “As we battled, Ruin and I got separated. The Dahāka had managed to seize Ruin and had swung him bodily into a rock wall, as though he was a heavy sack. I wasn’t quick enough, and the wretched beast threw him into the lake.”

You sensed his expression change and you were fully ready to interject.

“And then I had to haul his sorry arse out of the lake before the Aži Dahaka made mincemeat out of him,” a voice commented from behind. Both heads turned to find Strife stepping in through your window. He grabbed your fruit bowl from the table in passing and leant his weight against the furniture.

The gunslinger rider bit into the soft flesh of a plum before wiping the juice from his mouth. He gestured to War with a casual flick of his hand. “Well, go on then, little brother. Tell Y/N the rest.”

“What else is there to tell?” he demanded, his eyes narrowing, slightly annoyed at Strife’s flippant intrusion.

Strife rolled his eyes. “Creator almighty, do you need it spelled out for you?”

“Leave him be, brother,” Death’s deep voice rumbled from behind. You glanced over your shoulder to see him resting his arms atop the ledge of your window from the outside. “Y/N,” he acknowledged you, nodding curtly.

You began to smile at him, but then hastily rose from your seat, “Oh I forgot to prepare some drinks, I’ll ge-”

“Sit down,” Death cut you off. “War’s in the rare mood for a natter so we’d best hush up and allow him the luxury.” Strife shrugged but said nothing, taking another bite of his fruit.

You sat back down and eyed the youngest Horseman. He was staring at you meditatively, as though searching for something in your visage. He opened his mouth but you quickly interrupted, “War, don’t worry. There’s no need to tell me.”

There was a brief silence, and then the three brothers laughed. A heavy hand rested on your head. “You want to look after our little brother,” Death chuckled, his fingers ruffling your hair softly, it was more of a statement than a question. At some point, he had stepped inside without you hearing and you cursed yourself for your lack of foresight. “Worry not, he can look after himself.”

“Most of the time, if I may point out,” Strife pointed out.

“Indeed,” the Death agreed. “More so than you, given your track record. If I may point out,” he added.

“Up yours, Death,” Strife snapped, scooping an apple from the bowl and throwing it at him. Death caught the fruit neatly and turned it over in his hand, gazing at it for a moment before his thumb rubbed the skin as though testing its firmness.

“Here,” he said suddenly. Green filled your field of vision. You blinked before reaching up to accept the apple from him, your fingers folding over the fruit lightly. “Thanks,” you said.

“I was paralysed.” War’s voice was soft, distant. For the briefest second, you almost forgot who the owner was. “Although I had Chaoseater in hand, I couldn’t raise it. An unsettling thought had sprouted in my mind then.” You almost swore you heard rue in his voice.

“What was it?” you prompted when he said nothing for a few seconds. Behind you, the two brothers fell silent.

“I have never felt anything so jarring in my soul before. ‘Was this fear?’ I thought. Was this what mortals dealt with?” he stared at you. “What you have to deal with, as you are now?”

You met his gaze squarely, the other Horsemen briefly lost in the background.

“And.. how did that make you feel?” you prodded gently, momentarily shackled in the pursuit of answers from this utterly private creature.

His eyes, blue as the winter sky, were unfocused as they stared through you. “It was a sensation of utter helplessness, the sheer enormity of the situation was powerful enough to render me rooted on the spot,” he paused, “A helplessness, no forgive me, terror that I couldn’t save a friend’s life.”

His fingers, metal and skin, were oddly interlaced. Seeing him in this state unwittingly stirred something unpleasant in your stomach and you impulsively wanted to reach out to brush at his lightly freckled cheek.

Strife smacked his palms together, breaking the solemn spell. The abrupt, sharp ring made you jump.

"Alright, alright, that’s enough mush for one day. Now we know that ‘Schmaltz Rider’ doesn’t have a nice ring to it,” he chuckled at his own quip, then rapped his knuckles across War’s head playfully, causing his white hair to fluff and frizz in a tangled disarray. “Ain’t that right, little one?” he sneered, patting his head once more before stepping back.

Death arched an eyebrow at the distinct sound of teeth grinding together in sheer frustration.

“Something the matter, baby brother?” Strife inquired with feigned innocence although he was amused at the barely restrained temper that flared hotly from War’s body. His cheeks were flushed a bright rouge, but the downcast aura had thankfully dissolved away, and you wondered if Strife purposely interjected for that very reason.

“Not yet,” War replied slowly.

“But getting there?” Fury’s voice contributed from the garden.

“In a manner of speaking.”

Behind you, Death was leaning over your table, one elbow propped on the surface, his amber eyes skimming your notes. Your heart did a flip and you tensed for possible scorn.

“I should tell you about my first mission with Despair,” he said instead- the way he said it so casually almost made you choke on your apple.

“Oh boy,” Strife muttered.

“For once, I sympathise with you, brother,” Fury called again from the garden. Across you, War smirked, one side of his mouth lifting slightly higher than the other.

“Will you tell me?” you asked the eldest as he flipped through your pages, as did War before him. You ignored Strife’s frantic head shakes and his finger miming a knife slitting his throat.

“I will sometime. Not today,” Death straightened his posture and glanced down at you. “I shall tell you this though, it’s an event worth recounting.”

“Event?”

Strife’s lips peeled back, his white teeth flashing in the orange evening light. “You’ve always been one for ridiculous theatrics, brother.”

You laughed. “It wouldn’t be him otherwise."

Death glowered at you and you shrugged, still smiling. You were about to speak when a shrill squeal slashed through the air, followed by the sound of hooves scraping the ground.

"Oh no,” you whispered, eyes widening and feeling that ugly coil twisting in your guts again.

Sensing your rising anxiety, War reached out and touched your shoulder. “Hush,” he said firmly. “Place your trust in Fury. Her magic is strong,” he reminded you.

Strife snorted. “I mean, it’s not like we’re the Horsemen, you know. Imagine that,” he deadpanned, finishing his plum before tossing the seed into your bin.

“Thanks for reminding me,” your tone was just as flat- that’s a lie because it came out as tiny and quivering instead.

Strife kept a straight face for as long as he could, and then he burst out laughing. “No good,” he exclaimed, shaking his head, his body quaking with mirth. You turned away, shoulders drooping, embarrassment etched on your face.

“Oh come now,” his hand clasped your upper arm gently and you were pulled into an embrace. He was kneeling in front of you. His arms were snug around your waist. “We get it, you’re scared. We. Horsemen. get. it. Get it?”

Your muscles clenched so much almost to the point of agony. “Sorry…” you sighed, “I know you’re helping but… Oh, what am I saying, you’ve done too damn much already. Always coming to my rescue. A mere mortal. This shouldn’t even be your resp-”

“Quiet,” Death interrupted. You peered up at him, his head was once again bowed over your notes but you noticed the skin around his eyes were crinkled, signifying that he was amused. “You have four sets of strong shoulders in your company, Y/N. Don’t neglect them.” You made to protest but he raised a hand without looking up. "That was not a request.”

“The little human is stiff,” Strife remarked aloud, snickering when you weakly punched him between his shoulder blades. At least, his levity eased your anxiety somewhat.

“Brothers, I need your assistance,” Fury shouted, and then, “Oh, big up you overgrown baby, we’re not going anywhere.”

“We’re coming, sister,” Death called back. He turned to you, waving a finger in rapid blinks. “You look after yourself,” his tone was strict, like a concerned father. Its effect was infectious that you had to smile. “I can’t promise anything,” you confessed. “But I will try, that’s all I can say.”

“Well,” Death’s hand came up quickly and tossed something at you. There was no warning, you raised your hand to catch whatever it was that he threw at you. It hit your forehead before you managed to close your fingers around it and you watched the grape roll on the floor.

“Try harder,” he finished, amusement glinting in his eyes. He clapped Strife on the shoulder as he passed him. “Come on,” he said as he stepped out into the chill of the evening garden.

“Theatric,” Strife snorted, and you were heavily inclined to agree. His arms squeezed you one last time before he got up and helped himself to another plum from your bowl. “Let’s catch up tomorrow,” he waved at you, then he followed his elder brother out. The door gently closed, leaving a small gap.

There was a comfortable silence.

“How are you?" Once again, War’s directness startled you. And expected.

"Better, War,” you admitted. “Much better… thank you.”

The cool breeze squealed in through your open window and you reactively hunched your shoulders and draped your arms around yourself. War rose up and crossed the room to close it. Warmth seeped into the room once more. “Thanks.”

He didn’t reply but you knew that he heard you. You stared up at him. He was looking down on you, as though expecting you speak. You indulged him. “May I be candid a little more?”

He nodded.

“There’s something very human about you, War. I don’t mean that as an offense. The fact that you so readily imparted something so personal to me, I… I am baffled, truth be told. But grateful. Very grateful,” you clasped your hands together, searching for the words, “I… what I mean to say is, that I’m truly honoured to have you as my friend, as well as your siblings. But sometimes, plenty of times actually, I worry that my vulnerability… I fear may anger you one day.”

“You’re the best friend I have, Y/N. Nothing that you do will ever cause me ire.”

Your belly churned pleasantly at his words. Your lips twitched, disbelief and gladness overflowing you. His words replayed in your mind until his looming shadow veiled you, breaking you out of your reverie. You met his unreadable stare.

Blue as the winter sky.

He leant forward and kissed you on the forehead. “Be well,” he reminded you, straightening and walking over to your table. He looked back at you. “May I?” he asked, gesturing to your notes on your table.

You almost didn’t register his question, your thoughts a tumbling whirlwind. “Of course,” you answered, your voice slightly shaky. It baffled you immensely as to why he seemed interested in your mediocre 'research’ about horse colic.

He pocketed the sheaf of papers in his belt and made to leave. As his fingers closed around the handle of your door, sudden determination seized you and you called out, “War?”

He craned his head slightly.

You paused. “Keep them. My notes, I mean. I don’t need them because I… I trust you, all of you, with H/N.”

He nodded. “I understand.”

“And… thank you.”

He dipped his head once more before stepping out to join his brothers, closing the door gently behind him. Once the door clicked shut, you brought a hand to your forehead, the tips of your fingers lingering over the spot where his lips had pressed.

Gently. Ever so gently.

#darksiders #war #death #strife #fury #reader #horse #colic

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