#lol i probably sound like such a grumpy person for this but its a small thing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heyitssmiller · 3 years

Text

Frosted Windowpanes: Part One

The Christmas Fic is here! Featuring Logan the lumberjack, Leo who owns a diner, and Finn who was just trying to have a quiet, uneventful holiday (lol). This was supposed to be a oneshot, but y’all know I’m too long-winded for that, so it looks like we’ll be having at least one more part for this story!

@donttouchmycarrots Thank you so much for proofreading/encouraging/being such a wonderful, wonderful friend. I don’t think I’d still be writing without you and iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou

@lumosinlove Again, thank you for such wonderful characters! And for creating such a wonderful, welcoming fandom! I never thought I’d post my writing where people could read it, but then I met y’all and here we are! You guys are amazing! Happy Holidays, everyone! <3

Part Two is now up!

It's that time of year When the world falls in love Every song you hear seems to say

- The Christmas Waltz

Piercing, bitter cold greeted Logan as he stepped outside for the first time that day. The kind of cold that made the entire body tense up and the breath hitch. It was a quiet early morning, with a stillness that only freshly-fallen snow could bring. Logan took a second to pull his toque further down over his head as he grabbed the chainsaw by the door before heading out to the truck, passing the sign with red, clean lettering that read Tremblay’s Christmas Trees.

“Took you long enough, sleeping beauty.” His sister, Noelle, teased from the driver’s seat of the beat-up truck that barely started most mornings.

“It’s too early for this.” He grumbled back, sliding into the passenger’s seat as the truck reluctantly spluttered to a start.

“The faster we get done out here, the faster we can go deal with customers.”

“That’s not exactly helping.”

Noelle laughed as she drove back into one of the fields, parking the truck at the far end. “Come on, it’s not that bad. They ask to buy a tree, you help them pick one out, take their money, and strap it to their car. Easy.”

They got out of the truck, grabbed the chainsaw from the back, and headed towards their first tagged tree. Logan grabbed the tree around its trunk to stabilize it while Noelle powered up the chainsaw, putting their conversation on hold. She crouched down to start cutting the base of the tree trunk, creating a notch before starting the back cut. Logan waited until the tree felt unstable before giving the tree a gentle push in the right direction and removing his hands. The tree hit the ground with a thud.

Noelle took that as her cue to continue their conversation. “Don’t pretend to be all grumpy and stoic. I know you like some of our regulars.”

“Some being the key word here.” He replied, grabbing the tree trunk again and beginning to drag it to the truck. Noelle just gave him a look that clearly said I see right through you but didn’t comment as she looked for the next tagged tree.

Logan heaved the Christmas tree into the bed of the truck and shoved it into one corner; he could probably fit one more tree alongside it before he started stacking them. He stood up straight, turning his head to watch the sun rise and peek over the tops of the trees, bringing rays of light and warmth with it.

Leo basked in the warmth coming from the oven as he took out a fresh batch of croissants, a welcome reprieve from the weather outside. He quickly put the next tray of pastries into the oven and transferred the baked croissants onto a plate, where he let them cool just a little before drizzling them with honey. He hummed along to the Christmas music playing on the radio as he worked on getting the diner ready to open in a few hours. He started the gumbo, red beans and rice, and jambalaya, letting them simmer on the stove before whipping up his fried chicken batter and breading so that it was ready whenever he needed it. Next was the cornbread, which was made from scratch and poured into muffin tins to create the perfect individual servings. Coffee was brewed, quiches were placed in the display window, waffle batter was whipped up and sitting in a bowl on the counter.

Leo was arranging croissants into a basket when the back door opened, letting all the cold air in and a small flurry of snow with it.

“Good morning!” Nate called as he came around the corner, shedding his coat and hat. Leo honestly wasn’t sure what he’d do without Nate. Running his own diner was hard – it was even harder when he’d moved to a different country, not knowing anyone there, and kept afloat with barely anything but his optimism and his confidence in his cooking. Nate was the first person he’d hired when business actually picked up, and he’d been there ever since. He had a real knack for cooking and managed to make every person that walked through their doors feel welcomed.

“Headed out to the farm?” Nate asked when he saw the basket of croissants and the large thermos Leo was filling with coffee.

“Yeah.” Leo said, grabbing coffee creamer and sugar and shoving them into his coat pocket after he slipped it on. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Nah, I can hold down the fort while you’re gone.”

Leo smiled as he grabbed his hat. “Thanks. There’s croissants in the oven, but they’ll be done as soon as that timer goes off! I’ll be right back, ok?”

Nate gave him a look. “No you won’t.”

“No, I won’t.” Leo agreed with a laugh. “But I’ll be back before morning rush.” He said as he braced himself and opened the door to be greeted by the frigid Canadian winter.

Even after a year and a half, he had a feeling he’d never get used to this weather.

He made a beeline for his car, quickly getting behind the wheel and cranking the heat as high as it would go. He put the car in drive and slowly pulled out onto the road, keeping a firm grip on the wheel and his eyes on the road. He knew he was probably causing a traffic build-up behind him, which made Leo feel a little guilty. He’d driven through hurricanes countless times, but snow? Black ice? He was absolutely terrified of that. So he took his time, eventually turning off the main road and driving until he reached a sign with red lettering and a Christmas tree lot. There were handmade wreaths and garlands, and white Christmas lights strung up over the rows of trees for sale.

Leo put the car in park and grabbed his stuff, breath hitching as he faced the cold winds again. Marius, the head of the Tremblay family, was at the checkout counter, writing something down on a pad of paper. Once he looked up and saw Leo, he smiled broadly. “Hey, Nut!”

“Good morning.” Leo replied, raising the basket and thermos in his hands. “I come bearing gifts. Coffee and croissants.”

“You know you don’t have to do that.” Marius said as he gave Leo a stern look. “I’m sure you’ve got other things to do.”

Leo shrugged, opening the basket and offering them to the man. “I like doing this. Y’all work hard and have ridiculously long hours. And you work in this weather. I feel like you could use a little warmth.”

“You and your southern manners.” He grabbed a croissant anyways, taking a big bite. “Your favorite’s still out there bringing some trees in.” He said, motioning to one of the groves to the left. Leo could faintly hear the sound of a chainsaw in the distance.

“I don’t have favorites,” Leo protested as he set the thermos and croissants down on the table, even though it was clearly a bald-faced lie. He thought of evergreen eyes and a gorgeous laugh and a smile that left him breathless. He blamed the redness of his cheeks and ears on the cold. “I like all of you equally.”

“Right.” Marius said, dragging out the vowel. He was smiling, though. “He’s lucky to have a friend like you, you know.”

Leo had to force his smile to remain steadfast. Friend. That was all this was ever going to be, no matter how much his heart yearned for something more. He needed to learn to be content with that – it wasn’t fair to Logan otherwise, or to himself for that matter. He could be a good friend and leave it at that. It was still better than not knowing him at all.

“I think I’m the lucky one.” He said, only then remembering the sugar and coffee creamers in his coat pocket. He fished them out and set them on the counter next to the thermos. “I do have to get going, though. I’ve got the breakfast rush to deal with.”

Marius waved him off playfully, grabbing another croissant. “Go on, then. I’ll try to save some for the rest of them.”

Leo laughed at his antics, breath clouding in the air. “I’m holding you to that.”

Marius watched him get in his car and drive off very slowly with a chuckle. Damn southerners. He looked down at the coffee creamers and sugar, knowing Logan was the only one in the family that used them, and started speculating.

He heard the rumbling of the truck as it came in, the back loaded to the brim with trees. Noelle and Logan’s bickering could be heard before the truck’s engine got turned off, which was saying something. Marius grabbed a cup and filled it with coffee. He was going to need it.

“I mean, come on. Back to the Future is clearly the superior 80s movie. It’s definitely better than Top Gun.”

Logan closed his door, staring at his sister with a combination of horror and disbelief. “How dare you. Those aren’t even in the same genre!”

Noelle looked over at Marius right as she was about to start her counterargument and spotted the pastries and coffee. She grinned and abandoned Logan at the back of the truck in order to beat him to the food. One croissant was immediately shoved into her mouth as she grabbed another and then reached for a coffee cup one-handed. Marius snorted and grabbed it from her, filling it with steaming coffee.

She groaned. “Lolo, your friend needs to stop by more often. Fuck, this is good. If I wasn’t in a committed relationship already, I’d ask him to marry me.”

“Please don’t call me that.” Logan said gruffly, but his words were betrayed by a smile. He looked down at the pastries, eyes soft and smile dopy.

Marius knew that look. More importantly, he knew his son. And everything fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

“Maybe Logan should ask, instead.” He teased, although a part of him was completely genuine.

Logan choked on his first bite of croissant.

“Finn!” June shouted as soon as she flung the door open, throwing herself into his arms. Finn laughed and hugged her back. Two seconds into his visit and he knew this was going to be the best way to spend the week before Christmas. He hadn’t seen June since they graduated college and, even though they kept in touch, it wasn’t the same.

“Four years is way too long.” He said as she let go. “Let’s not go that long without seeing each other again, ok?”

“Deal.” She replied, grabbing his bag for him and leading the way inside. The apartment was warm and cozy and lived in – there were books on the coffee table and a large pile of mail on the counter and a few stray dishes in the sink.

Finn loved it.

Heather, June’s fiancée, smiled in greeting and stuck her hand out to shake. “You must be Finn.”

He had originally thought it might be a little bit awkward, meeting his ex-girlfriend’s fiancée, but Heather seemed kind and welcoming and unperturbed about the whole thing. He shook her hand and returned the smile. “Heather. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Oh god.” She laughed, shooting June a look. June just winked and leaned over to check whatever food was in the oven.

“All good things.” Finn promised, letting Heather lead him to the guest room. It was as happy and welcoming as the rest of the apartment. As soon as they were out of earshot, he continued, “I’m really happy for you guys. She’s happier than I've ever seen her.”

“So am I.” Heather said wistfully as Finn set his bag down. “Bathroom’s through that door if you need it.”

“Thanks.”

When he rejoined the group in the living room, he noticed something: a distinct lack of Christmas decorations. June used to love decorating her college dorm room for the holidays – she went all out with little things she bought at the Dollar Tree and a miniature Christmas tree from Walmart. They used to get the tree together every year. It was strange that she hadn’t continued the tradition.

“No tree?” He asked June, surprised. She shrugged and scooted over on the couch to make room for all three of them.

“Haven’t had the time. I’ve been so busy at work and Heather’s been traveling for conferences. It’s not the same when you have to decorate by yourself.”

Finn hummed understandingly. He knew the feeling. “Why don’t we go get one now? Do you think some places are still open this late?”

Heather and June looked at each other, seeming to have a telepathic conversation. Finn watched on in amusement as they communicated with raised eyebrows and narrowed eyes and shrugs until they apparently made up their minds.

“Tremblay’s is probably still open. They’ve got the best trees, anyways.” June explained, turning to look at Finn. “But I’ve got to stay here and make sure our dinner doesn’t burn.”

“And I’ve got to stay here and supervise June while she uses the oven.” Heather added. Finn laughed, remembering too many times June had burned herself while using the rickety old oven from the 1970s that still lived on in their dorm building.

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” Finn teased and ruffled June’s hair. She just rolled her eyes and didn’t even bother trying to smooth it out again. Ruffling hair was one of Finn’s main ways of showing affection – she knew it would just get messed up again. Finn fished his phone out of his pocket and pulled up his navigation app. “I can go get the tree, if you want. You said the place was called Tremblay’s?”

“Finn, you really don’t have to-”

“No, I want to!” He cut in, standing up from the couch to grab his coat. “I didn’t bring presents for you guys because I’m so bad at gift-giving, so this can be my Christmas present.”

Heather hesitated. “Are you sure you don’t mind?” She asked, glancing at June again. “We can always go out and get a tree tomorrow.”

“It’s fine. I’ll be back soon, and with a tree!” Finn said as he reached the door, turned to give a cheery salute, and headed out to his car.

After a frankly terrifying drive through narrow back roads and potential ice hazards, Finn followed his app to a little tree farm off of the main road. There weren’t many cars there, thankfully, and it still looked open. The rows of white lights hanging above the trees were all lit and glowing, snow was falling at a slow, sleepy pace. It looked perfect, like something out of a dream.

And that was before Finn saw him.

The man working the front counter.

Finn raked his gaze over the man and swooned. Wavy brown hair, bright eyes, shoulders and arms so broad and built that it seemed like they were about to rip the plaid shirt he was wearing. With a nametag that stated Logan, he seemed like a rugged, Canadian, lumberjack dreamboat. Finn swallowed, making his way to the counter and the absolute vision behind it while he focused on not tripping over his own two feet.

“Hi,” Finn managed, trying not to get lost in evergreen eyes. “I’d like to buy a tree, please.”

“What type of tree would you like?”

Oh, the accent.

Finn was screwed.

“Uh…” Finn trailed off, looking at Logan and struggling to find words. “A Christmas tree?”

“Spruce, pine, or fir?” When Finn’s expression turned more confused, Logan smiled in exasperated, awed delight. Who drove all this way for a tree and had no clue what they were looking for? Most people at least had some idea. But not this one, apparently. Those big, Bambi eyes were lost and absolutely adorable.

“Do you have a size you’re looking for?” Logan asked, receiving a more perplexed look.

This was too funny. “Do you know anything about what kind of tree you want?”

“A pretty one? But not too expensive. Or too tall. Or heavy – I’ve got to get it up a huge flight of stairs.”

Logan couldn’t hold back the laughter any longer. He leaned forwards against the counter and laughed, eyes squeezing shut and shoulders shaking. Finn watched with a smile of his own, taking in the way his eyes crinkled at the corners and the contagious nature of his laugh. He felt like this – this right here – was the only thing he wanted to do for the next several hours, especially if he was the reason for the laughter. He thought of that song he could never remember the name of but heard a lot on Tiktok that said, “oh no, I think I’m catching feelings” and never related to a song more in his entire life.

“Ok,” Logan said when he’d finally caught his breath. “Ok, I’m going to pick one out for you, how’s that sound…?”

“Finn.” The redhead supplied with a laugh of his own. “And please. I have no clue what I’m doing.”

“Clearly.” Logan stepped around the counter and led him towards a group of trees. “These are Douglas Firs. They last a long time, smell great, and they don’t take a lot of trimming or maintenance. They’re also pretty cheap since they’re so common.”

Finn looked from the trees to another group of trees a little ways off. “They all look the same.”

“Who’s the expert here?” Logan teased, shooting him a look over his shoulder as he walked from one tree to the next. Finn trailed after him eagerly, watching calloused, muscular hands trail along the needles of the trees.

“We can go look at the Fraser Firs, if you want, but I really think one of these is your best bet.” Logan continued, stopping in front of a mid-sized tree. “How about this one?”

Finn looked at it, then back at Logan. “What do you think? Since I clearly don’t know anything about trees.” That drew another smile from Logan, which made Finn vow to himself to make the brunet smile like that again.

Logan dragged the tree out from the rest of the group and looked it over. “I think it’s a good one. Good shape, healthy. I sure know how to pick ‘em, eh?”

Eh. How adorably Canadian.

“Sounds good. It’s not even for me, so my input doesn’t really matter a whole lot.”

Logan sent him a confused look. “So you went out at nine o’clock at night to get a Christmas tree, and it’s not for you?”

“I don’t even live in this country.”

“What?”

“I’m visiting friends that live here, and they’ve been traveling or too busy to decorate like they normally do, so I decided I’d get the ball rolling and find them a Christmas tree.” Finn shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Not only was he stunning, he was thoughtful to boot.

Logan clearly had a type.

“That’s nice of you.” He removed the tree from its stand and started lugging it to the counter, watching the redhead trail behind him yet again out of the corner of his eye. When he reached his destination, he set the tree down and found Finn staring at him with a look of awe on his face. He bit back a smile. “How long are you staying?”

Finn was silent for a second, as if in a trance, then snapped out of it with a little shake of his head. “Huh?”

That smile he was holding back broke through. “How long are you staying in town?”

“Oh. Just for the week, then I’m off to spend Christmas with my family back home in New York.”

“A New Yorker, huh?” Logan asked as he bagged the tree up, attempting to do the accent and making Finn laugh. “This must be quite the change of pace for you.”

“You have no idea.”

Finn’s stomach growled, making his eyes widen and his cheeks burn in embarrassment. It must’ve been loud enough for Logan to hear because he turned back around to face Finn and quirked an eyebrow. “Hungry?” He asked, then told Finn the price of the tree. Finn handed his card over.

“Yeah. Haven’t had dinner yet.”

“I, uh, I know a place.” Logan said, playing with Finn’s credit card before meeting his eyes and quickly adding, “If you’re interested. I haven’t had dinner either.”

Finn grinned, not even trying to hide his excitement. The only thing he’d wanted when he left June and Heather’s apartment was a tree. Now he had a potential date with this gorgeous, witty guy? Yes please. “Yeah?”

Logan shared his smile, leaning forward against the counter and looking up at him through dark, dark eyelashes. Finn’s heart fluttered. “Yeah. Sounds fun to me.”

“Great.” Finn said, unsure of what else to say and suddenly feeling a little awkward. Was he supposed to wait for him to finish his shift? Were they driving together? Where was this restaurant?

He needed to text June.

Shit. She had been making dinner when he left. But he’d already agreed to dinner with Logan. But it would be so rude to not spend time with his hosts. But he would regret it for the rest of his life if he didn’t go on this date.

He pulled out his phone as Logan ran his card through the system to text June.

To June: Sooooo there might be a change of plans. Some hot guy is my acting tour guide for the night and I won’t be making it home for dinner. But I promise I have a tree and I will be back eventually.

It only took June a few seconds to respond.

From June: Damn. You go, Finn.

He laughed under his breath, then pocketed his phone. When he looked up, Logan was looking at him and holding his card out. Finn grabbed it and shoved it into his wallet, which he pocketed. “Ready to go?” Logan asked, grabbing the trunk of the tree and preparing to drag it again. “I can drive, if you want. We’ll strap the tree to the top of your car and then head out.”

“Works for me. Do you need help with that?” Finn motioned to the tree. Not that he minded the view – quite the contrary – but he felt bad not doing anything.

“Want to grab the netting towards the top? We can carry it instead of dragging it.”

Finn grabbed the netting and followed Logan’s lead as they both lifted the tree and started carrying it out to Finn’s car, Finn giving directions as they went. Getting the tree to the top of the rental car was a struggle, but they managed and strapped it down.

They hurried to Logan’s car and shut out the cold as quickly as they could. Logan started the rickety old pickup truck that smelled strongly of Christmas trees and took off down the road at a much faster pace than Finn would ever dare to drive these roads.

“I have a feeling you’re going to love this place.” Logan said as he turned right onto the main road, accelerating a bit more. “Pretty much everyone does. It’s not very Canadian, but you can’t beat the food.”

“What defines a restaurant as Canadian?” Finn mused, looking over at the driver. “Maple syrup? Poutine?”

“Watch it.” There was no heat in Logan’s voice, so Finn didn’t take it to heart. They slowed down and pulled into a parking lot of a diner simply called Leo’s. The outside looked a little rundown, which made Finn a little apprehensive, but the windows were all fogged up from the temperature difference between inside and outside, which was always promising.

Logan turned the car off and shot Finn an excited grin. “Ready?”

Finn couldn’t tell if he was excited for dinner with him or just the food. Hopefully it was both.

The inside of the diner was… eclectic. The walls were a faint yellow, but there were splashes of deep purple, green, and gold in the decorations on the walls. Mardis Gras, Finn realized as he spotted some masks hanging on the wall. The food smelled amazing – warm and spicy and savory. Behind the baked goods on display counter stood a young kid with a cleaning spray and a rag, wiping down the counters. He looked up at the bell that signaled the door opening and instantly recognized Logan. He sent them a smile before turning his head and shouting towards the direction of the kitchen, “Leo!”

There was a loud clang, followed by a muffled curse. “Be there in a jiffy!”

Finn looked to Logan in confusion. “Was that a southern accent? Like American south?”

“Leo.” Was all Logan said, a happy smile on his face.

“You guys can go ahead and sit down,” The kid at the counter said. “I’ll bring some menus.”

“Thanks, Nate.” Logan led the way towards a booth in the front corner of the dining area and sat down facing the door. Finn sat opposite him, accepting a menu with thanks. The menu consisted of southern U.S. staples – biscuits and gravy, grits, red beans and rice, fried chicken, etouffee, jambalaya, po’boys, fried catfish, cornbread, the list went on.

“So is this guy from Louisiana?”

Logan wasn’t even looking at the menu, he was watching every nuance of Finn’s expressions as he took everything in. “New Orleans, born and raised.”

“How the hell did he end up here?”

“He had an uncle who owned this place and left it to Leo when he died. Originally he was just going to fix it up and sell it before going back home, but two months led to a year and he’s still here. Doesn’t seem to be planning on going anywhere else for a while, either.” Logan suddenly perked up, looking at something over Finn’s shoulder. “Here he comes.”

Finn swiveled in his seat and stopped dead in his tracks.

Tall.

They were both greeted by a dimpled smile as Leo approached their table, flour or powdered sugar – Finn wasn’t sure which one – all over his apron and a dusting of it in his fluffy blond hair.

“Hey, Logan. See you’ve brought company!” His accent dragged sweet and slow like molasses, so very out of place this far north. But it was refreshing, like a breath of fresh air or the sun coming out from behind the clouds after a week of rain. As he got closer, Finn realized what he’d thought to be flour in his hair was actually a gray streak. And wow, were his eyes blue.

How was everyone here so attractive?

“Finn, meet Leo. Leo, this is Finn.” Logan said, smile never leaving his face as he looked between the two. “He’s new here.”

Leo arched an eyebrow. “And you brought him here?”

“You do have the best pie in town.”

That got another sunny smile from Leo. “Damn right I do. But dinner first. Can’t go on spoilin’ your dinner with pie.” Those blue eyes turned to Finn, causing his breath to hitch just a little. “What’ll you have, sugar?”

Finn simply wasn’t going to survive this night. Was this a dream? That would explain all the attractive guys – the probabilities of something like this happening in real life were slim to none. He pinched his arm harshly. Not a dream.

What the fuck?

Finn realized he still hadn’t answered and was just staring at the blond. He cleared his throat and quickly averted his gaze to the menu, not really reading anything but grateful for something else to look at besides the two guys in front of him. “Um… what would you recommend?” He finally asked, grateful that he could get his vocal cords to actually work.

Leo hummed, thinking about it. “Personally I really like the muffuletta, if you’re looking for a sandwich. Definitely the gumbo if you’re in the mood for soup. I do make a mean fried catfish, too.”

Finn wasn’t sure what exactly a muffuletta was, but he ordered it. Logan got his usual, whatever that meant. Leo wrote down their orders and gave them one last smile before retreating to the kitchen. They both watched him go, then Finn whipped back around to face Logan.

“Is he real?”

Logan just laughed, leaning back in his seat. Finn panicked for half a second, terrified that what he’d said was the worst possible thought to voice on what was potentially a first date. But Logan didn’t seem to mind. He just looked back at the kitchen with a soft smile Finn hadn’t seen before.

“You know, I ask myself that a lot.” He said quietly, as if he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. And Finn finally understood.

He was in love with Leo.

The sound of a record scratching filled Finn’s head.

Wait.

That didn’t make any sense… because Finn was ninety-five percent sure that Logan had been flirting with him all night.

Hadn’t he?

They made small talk while they waited for their food, and Logan was pleasantly surprised at how… easy it was. He normally didn’t like small talk and didn’t share personal stories with strangers, but here Finn was, pulling stories out of him that he normally wouldn’t share on a first date.

Was this a date? Logan couldn’t decide if he wanted it to be one or not. One hand, this was definitely the most fun he’d had in weeks. On the other hand, Leo. He sent a glance towards the kitchen window before focusing back on Finn’s story about one of the parties he and June went to back in college. There was lots of alcohol, mattresses, and a roof involved. Finn’s storytelling included a myriad of different expressions, all of which Logan found endearing. The wrinkle of his nose when he talked about drunk frat boy antics, the way he got all soft whenever he talked about June, the laughter lines around his eyes when he told a funny anecdote.

How was it possible to be so cute and yet so hot at the same time?

And how had he met two guys who fit into both of those categories?

Nate brought their food out while Logan was in the middle of a story about the time he’d found a squirrel in one of their trees and got attacked when he tried to relocate the thing when Nate came back with the food. Finn had the muffuletta, which was apparently meat and cheese and some sort of olive spread or something – Finn had no idea, but it looked and smelled amazing. Logan had a bowl of red beans and rice in front of him, but he was waiting to see Finn’s reaction to the food before starting his own.

Finn took a bite of the sandwich, then his eyes widened almost comically. “Oh my god.”

“I know.” Logan said, getting a spoonful of red beans and rice.

“Where has this been all my life?”

“Just wait until you try the pie.”

Finn didn’t speak again, he just ate. The food clearly took precedence over any possible conversations. Logan couldn’t help but agree. Finn ate like a man who hadn’t seen food in a week, finishing the sandwich in record time. He leaned back in his seat when he was done, letting out a happy, content sigh. “Holy shit. Is everything on the menu that good?”

“Pretty much.”

“And he hasn’t been on the Food Network yet?”

Logan grinned. “Not that I’m aware of.”

“We should tell them to get up here and try this food.”

“Y’all, I don’t have time for the Food Network.” Finn jumped a little as Leo reappeared with two slices of pie. “I appreciate it, though. You liked it, huh?”

Finn looked up at him. “I kind of want to come back every day I’m here.” And he meant it. He wouldn’t be coming back just for the food, though.

“Well, I definitely won’t stop you.” Leo said with a dimpled smile. Finn barely held in a dreamy sigh.

Dimples.

“Why don’t you join us?” Finn asked, scooting over to make room for the blond. But Leo just shook his head with a rueful smile.

“I wish I could, but I’ve got twelve pies that need to be made.”

“Twelve?” Finn asked in mild horror. “When do you sleep?”

“The chocolate crème pies are in high demand, especially around the holidays. But it’s fine, I don’t mind it. I’m just glad I've got business.” Leo seemed to be ignoring the sleep question, which was never a good sign.

“You look tired.” Logan noted, face muddled with concern.

Leo laughed softly, but didn’t seem to take offense. “Thanks a lot, darlin’.”

Logan broke eye contact and pushed the residual whipped cream around on his plate. Finn hadn’t even realized he’d started eating, but he quickly followed suit and fuck, was that good.

“I just meant you need to take care of yourself, that’s all.” Logan mumbled into his plate without looking up, almost as if he was afraid to see the cook’s response.

“Says the guy who works even longer hours than I do.” Leo teased, causing Logan to roll his eyes.

“That’s because it’s almost Christmas and I work at a Christmas tree farm. It’s only temporary. We’ll be back to normal by the end of the week.”

“Well, good. You deserve to sleep in for once.” Leo said, taking a step back towards the kitchen. “But I really do have to go. Those pies won’t make themselves.”

“Do you want help?” Finn asked hopefully, He honestly couldn’t think of a better way to spend the night than baking with these two. Being given instructions in a thick southern drawl, helping Logan make pie filling, trading stories (and maybe kisses) while they waited for the pies to be done.

But Leo quickly dashed his dreams. “That’s sweet, honey, but I think I’ll be faster on my own. I’ve got a system that makes it pretty efficient. And I don’t give out my recipes to just anyone, you know.”

Oh, but I’d love to be someone to you.

Logan also looked disappointed. “We should get going, then. Don’t want to keep distracting you.”

“At least you’re a welcome distraction.” Leo said with a wink before he turned and disappeared into the kitchen. He let the door close behind him before backing up to lean against it, tilting his head back to rest against the wood and closing his eyes. The happy façade dropped in an instant.

Because Logan was out there, on a date with a guy. A handsome, kind, funny guy who would have absolutely no trouble sweeping Logan off his feet.

And that guy wasn’t Leo.

Finn flopped dramatically onto the couch back at June’s apartment, muffling a scream into a poor, unsuspecting pillow. June looked up from her book with a laugh. “Well hello to you, too.”

“I’m in love.”

“Oh?” Heather asked from her spot cuddled up next to June.

Finn turned his head sideways to open one eye and look at the two of them. “With a lumberjack and a cook.”

“Ah,” June said knowingly as she dog-eared the page she was on and closed the book. “Beware the lumberjacks. They’re known to be irresistible. Alright then, which Tremblay was it?”

Finn cocked his head. “What?”

Heather smiled as June tilted her head back and let her run her fingers through dark brown curls. They were so cute it was almost sickening. “There’s four of them: three sisters and a brother. Which one did you fall for?”

Finn couldn’t have held back the smile that crossed his face even if he tried. “Logan.”

June groaned. “I get it. Holy shit, those eyes.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t know he cooked, though.”

“No, the cook was another guy.” Finn sighed as he twisted to lay on his back and stare wistfully up at the ceiling. “Leo.”

“The southern one with the diner?”

“That’s the one.”

“Damn, O’Hara. You do know-”

“They’re head-over-heels in love with each other? Yeah, I got that.” Finn stretched his legs out to rest on June’s lap. “But I’m also pretty sure that was a date. And that Logan was flirting with me.” He sighed again, covering his eyes with his arm. “I’m doomed.”

“Always so dramatic.” June teased. “Just date both of them.”

Finn froze, his mind going completely blank. “What?”

“Date both of them.” She repeated, unfazed. “Polyamorous relationships are a thing, you know. Who says you can’t date both of them?”

Finn moved his arm away from his face to stare at her. “Huh.” He finally said, mind kicking back into gear. That sounded… perfect, actually. Only a few hitches. Did Leo even like him? They’d barely talked to each other. Finn could see Logan being ok with the whole dating two people thing, seeing that he was flirting with both of them, but what would Leo think? And the other hitch. “I’m only for a week, though.”

“Then you’d better act fast, lover boy.”

“I’ve got a question.” Heather piped up.

Finn looked at her and raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to ask her question.

“Where’s the tree?”

He could probably see it from their front window if he bothered to stand up, still strapped to his rental car. “Shit.”

#lumosinlove #o'knutzy #finn o'hara #logan tremblay #leo knut #christmas au #frosted windowpanes

267 notes · View notes

kpophours · 4 years

Text

Sweet Night (M)

➵ Stray Kids: Bang Chan x fem. reader / one shot, college AU, camping trip AU / fluff, smut / REQUESTED

➵ warnings: slight cursing, explicit mentions of sex (slight public teasing, orgasm denial, oral: receiving, slight choking)

➵ word count: 6k (lol oops)

a/n: after a few anon requests/inquiries, I decided to write this one shot as the second part to Way to You - you can absolutely read this on its own though.

I’M WALKING ON SUNSHINE, OOOOOOH! I’M WALKING ON-

Your eyes fly open as soon as the song starts blaring from somewhere beside you, and you blindly fumble for the alarm clock, thankfully managing to find the off-switch quite quickly. This very annoying clock was a horrible yet also kinda thoughtful birthday gift from Chan’s roommates, as it’s quite possibly the loudest one on the market, meaning it is able to wake literally anyone. It could probably even wake Dracula from his deep slumber in the depths of his castle somewhere in Romania. And while Chan might not be a vampire, he isn’t one to wake easily either, so this extremely loud alarm clock was the only solution your friends had been able to come up with. Which sadly means you experience something close to a heart attack every morning - or well, at least a few times a week, as you do still spend some nights at the apartment you share with Jisung.

You fall back into the pillows, heart still racing from the sudden noise. Pale sunlight filters through the curtains and into the otherwise dark room. You groan, blinking against the rays of light hitting you straight in the face, and turn around to cuddle into your boyfriend’s broad back. He hums, only half-awake himself, and turns around to wrap both arms around you, leaving a lazy kiss on your forehead.

Suddenly, there’s a crash from somewhere in the house, and you jump. Chan sighs deeply, and murmurs “Hyunjin, probably.” under his breath - it’s no secret that his roommate is a walking disaster. You don’t answer, only pressing a soft kiss on his naked chest. “How’d you sleep?”, he asks, one hand beginning to trace gentle patterns on your bare back. “Like a rock - which was exactly what I needed after my midterms.”, you answer, and he nods. “You more than deserved that, babe. I’m really proud of you, by the way. I’m sure you aced all your exams.”, he says, and you can’t help but smile at his sweet words. You look up at him, gently cupping his cheek, and kiss him. He basically melts against you, pulling you even closer towards him, and bites down on your lower lip to slide his tongue into your mouth. Before this can end in a steamy morning make-out session, there’s a knock on Chan’s door. He groans and draws back from you, expression grumpy. “What?”, he then yells, shooting daggers towards his door. “Just wanted to make sure you’re up, we’re supposed to be leaving in an hour!”, Felix answers, sounding way too cheerful so early in the morning. “Ugh, I hate morning people. Just once I want to get up in the morning without having to go through the seven stages of grief first.”, you mumble, your warm breath tickling Chan’s neck and making him giggle and wiggle away from you. “Yeah, we’re up!”, he quickly answers Felix, who shuffles away from the door, before turning towards you again, “Wait, aren’t there only five stages of grief? What are your extra two?” “Denial part two and astral projection.”, you answer, and Chan laughs before giving you a soft smile, brushing some of your hair out of your face.

“Breakfast?”, he then asks, and you nod. “Absolutely. I need coffee, and lots of it.”, you agree, and he rolls his eyes. “I swear, by now there’s definitely coffee running through your veins instead of blood.”, Chan mumbles, before jumping out of bed to grab his underwear from the floor. You just chuckle and follow him, but can’t seem to find your bra anywhere. “What the Hell…”, you mumble under your breath, twirling around once in a desperate attempt to locate it. “Uh. Looking for this?”, Chan asks and you follow his gaze. You both burst into loud laughter when you spot your bra happily dangling from the ceiling light. “Well, we had to be very fast yesterday evening. Clothes went flying, and quite literally it seems.”, you say, lips twitching while you stand on your tiptoes to get your bra, and Chan nods in agreement. “Very fast indeed - but we couldn’t let the others begin the movie night without us! We had valid reasons.” He grins and wraps both arms around your waist to pull you close to him again, giving you a quick peck on the lips. When you want to deepen the kiss, he draws back again, expression stern. “No time for that, we have to get ready, eat breakfast and you still need to pack some of your stuff before we can leave. And we don’t want to let the others wait, right?” You sigh and pout. “No, we don’t, apparently.”, you just answer, and wiggle into your jeans and turtleneck, finally ready to leave the privacy of Chan’s room and get something to eat.

The scent of fresh coffee and pancakes greets you when you arrive downstairs, and you inhale deeply. Felix is standing in front of the stove, humming a soft tune under his breath while working on making the tower of pancakes beside him even taller. He turns around when you enter the kitchen, giving you his signature sunshine smile. “Morning, Y/N.”, he greets you, “Slept well?” You nod and peek over his shoulder. “Yup. And have I ever told you how much I love you?”, you ask, stealing a piece of pancake directly out of the pan, and Felix tries to swat your hand away before he chuckles. “Shouldn’t you say that to Chan, not to me?”, he replies, and your boyfriend, just entering the kitchen behind you, sighs deeply. “She’s an opportunist, meaning she’ll tell anyone she loves them if it means she gets what she wants, so beware. I actually rarely hear her say it to me.”, Chan says warningly, and you shoot him a dark look. “Oh shut up, that’s so not true. I tell you I love you at least once or twice a day, you needy baby.”, you grumble, and just then, Minho joins the small kitchen party. “Needy baby? You’re not talking about Hyunjin, are you?”, he asks, ruffling his crazy bed hair while filling a mug with coffee, sighing contently when he takes the first sip. You grin and shake your head, before taking a mug out of the cabinet yourself.

Said roommate also enters the kitchen just then, face looking quite puffy. You raise both eyebrows. “Did you cry yourself to sleep last night?”, you ask, and take a sip of coffee to hide your shit-eating grin. Hyunjin throws you a dark glare, and crosses both arms in front of his chest. “No. But I did have a slight mental breakdown after realizing I probably failed my last exam yesterday, so I decided to treat myself to some late-night-ramen, and now I look like this.”, he points at his face, beginning to pout, “God just hates pretty people, he’s clearly punishing me for my dashing looks.” “Or maybe he just doesn’t like narcissists.”, Jeongin offers when he enters the kitchen, shoving Minho out of the way to get to the kitchen cabinet almost overflowing with mugs. You decide it’s finally getting too crowded in the kitchen, and leave it again. You’re absolutely not a morning person, and can’t deal with the boys’ constant bickering without having experienced the positive effect of the caffeine you’re currently consuming.

Seungmin is sitting on one of the sofas, currently scrolling through Instagram and apparently trying to like every cute puppy pic in existence. “Morning.”, you greet him and take a seat beside him, peeking over his shoulder and cooing at an extremely cute baby golden retriever. Seungmin just greets you with a curt nod of his head, not being a morning person either, and keeps scrolling. Minutes later, Felix enters the living room, balancing a giant plate of fresh pancakes in front of him while all the other boys follow him like stray dogs. “What would you guys even do without Felix cooking for you all the time?”, you ask, mouth watering when you inhale the delicious smell. “Starve and die.”, Seungmin deadpans, while Jeongin answers: “We’d have to look at Hyunjin’s ugly bloated face every day because we’d solely live off ramen.” Hyunjin hits the back of his head for that, but the younger boy just shoots him his cheshire cat grin. “I mean, I could cook too, I guess.”, Chan says, frowning, and everyone bursts into loud laughter. “Wow okay, I’ll try not to take this personally…”, your boyfriend grumbles, and sits down at the dining table. You slide onto the chair next to him, and pat his thigh affectionately. “I love you, babe, but you literally didn’t know how to whisk eggs when we wanted to bake cookies last week.”, you say, and Chan sighs. “That’s... sadly fair. But I could learn!”

“No offense, but we actually like our kitchen intact - thanks for your humble offering though. If Felix should die unexpectedly, we might get back to you.”, Minho answers, and before the situation can escalate into a playful bickering battle, Felix yells “SO, WHO WANTS PANCAKES?!”, successfully managing to distract everyone.

One and a half hours later, everyone is packed and ready to go - you’ve planned this little getaway for almost two months now, everyone having finished their first round of exams at this time of year and being able to just relax for a bit. For some reason, the boys had wanted to go camping, and as you, Jisung’s girlfriend Lina and Hyunjin’s girlfriend Marie were clearly outnumbered by the boys, you hadn’t really had the chance to disagree with them. But you honestly don’t even mind, having gone camping lots of times already and just being happy to enjoy some time with your closest friends. Only Changbin won’t be able to join you guys, as he’s currently doing an internship and wasn’t able to request some time off.

Chan is just about to lock the front door to the frat house, when Jeongin zooms past you, yelling for his older roommate to wait. “I forgot something extremely important!”, he explains, almost breathless, and disappears into the house again. “What’s he getting now?”, your boyfriend wonders, and shoots you a questioning gaze. You just shrug, and let your bag fall to the ground, too lazy to hold onto it while waiting for the youngest of your group. A few minutes later, Jeongin comes back, a huge grin on his face and a giant stuffed animal in his arms. Chan blinks a few times, and opens his mouth to say something, but he gets cut off by the younger boy: “You guys can cuddle with each other, but I’d rather throw myself off a cliff than cuddle with Minho, Felix or Seungmin, whoever I’ll end up sharing a tent with. But I do wanna cuddle with someone, so Mr. Sunshine it is.”, he explains stoically, and you just nod in support. “I totally get that, plus I wouldn’t be too sure that Minho doesn’t just turn into a bat or something like that during the night. He’s at least part demon, we all know that.”, you say, and Jeongin giggles.

You’re truly prepared to give him anything whenever he smiles at you like this, his eyes almost disappearing, teeth almost blindingly bright. While you detain from squishing his cheeks, you do poke the dimple on his left one, being too endeared by him. He swats your hand away, of course he does, but you still bask in the victory of having poked his cheek. One thing to cross off your to-do-list for today.

“Okay, let’s go to the others.”, Chan finally says after locking the house, and without you having to say anything, he takes his and your bag and walks over to where the others are waiting beside the cars. Chivalry is not dead and you’re ready to swoon over your amazing boyfriend. “Okay, we still have to pick up Jisung, Lina and Marie.”, Chan says after he’s put your bags into the trunk of his car, “So, who’s gonna ride in which car?” “Well I obviously want to ride with Marie.”, Hyunjin says, a goofy smile on his face - they have been together for almost a year now, but he’s still very much extremely whipped for her, but luckily, she seems to feel the exact same way -, and Minho murmurs a sarcastic “Shocking, really.” under his breath. “I want Jisung and Lina in our car.”, you quickly say, and Chan gives you a short nod. Of course you’d say that - Jisung is your best friend after all, and you’ve grown quite close to Lina as well. You’re also good friends with Marie, but Jisung just wins this round - not that you’d ever tell that to his face, he’s too cocky as it is, no need to push his ego even more. “Then Minho, you take Hyunjin, Marie, Felix and Seungmin, and I take Y/N, Jisung, Lina and Jeongin, okay?”, Chan suggests, and everyone agrees. Five minutes later, all the bags are safely stored away and everyone has taken their seats. Being Chan’s girlfriend means you get to ride shotgun, something you’re more than thankful for, knowing how crowded the backseat is going to be once you’ve picked up Jisung and Lina. “See you in a bit!”, Felix yells through his open window, and flashes you his extremely cute gummy smile. You wave at him, immediately returning his smile, and successfully ignore Minho’s mock salute and cocky grin while he backs out of his parking spot, almost cutting Chan off.

Twenty minutes later, Jisung and Lina are squished into the backseat with Jeongin, all three having bright smiles on their faces. “Road trip, whoop!”, Jisung yells and gives you a high five, “Happy to have a few days with y’all before we have to face the sad reality of probably having failed most of our exams!” Lina beside him rolls her eyes. “Stop being so dramatic, I’m sure most of us will have aced everything.”, she says, and Jisung wraps his arm around her and kisses her temple. “Sorry, but I have literally only one functioning brain cell and I use it to overthink.”, he explains, yelping when she playfully tickles his side. You chuckle at their bickering, and hit play on your road trip playlist - a second later, Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody fills the car, all of you immediately beginning to sing along. “LET’S GO!”, Chan yells over the sad attempts of everyone trying to imitate Freddy Mercury, and backs out of the parking lot. You smile and interlace your fingers with his. He cheekily returns your smile, and raises your intertwined hands to his lips to press a soft kiss against your knuckles. Over a year of being with him, but you still swoon over this simple yet sweet gesture. Yes, you’re just that whipped for your boyfriend, and what about it.

It doesn’t take long for you guys to arrive on the interstate, you and Jisung trying to trump each other's impressions of Beyoncé singing Single Ladies (and failing miserably, sorry Queen B). Your belly almost hurts from laughing with your friends, and you can’t wait for the rest of the weekend to begin.

Minho’s car arrives before Chan’s, and of course he’s gloating about it the second you guys join forces again. But you can let him have this small victory, and decide to just ignore him for now, helping Chan get the bags out of his car and to the campsite. It’s quite cold, the air crisp now that the sun is slowly beginning to set again, but you brought lots of blankets and sleeping bags, so you should be fine. And at least the weather means there aren’t any other campers here right now, so you have the whole area, including the washing rooms, to yourselves, which is nice.

Setting up camp takes longer than anticipated, mostly because Jisung somehow manages to crash into his and Lina’s almost finished tent twice, which means they have to start from the very beginning again. She truly has the patience of a saint, simply smacking him over the head rather playfully before picking up the sad remains of their tent to begin the whole building process again. Chan and you, having gone camping lots of times already, are quickest with finishing your tent, so afterwards you offer to help Jisung and Lina with theirs, while Chan does the same for Minho and Jeongin. Marie, an experienced scout, has set up hers and Hyunjin’s tent in record time as well, and takes pity on Felix and Seungmin, quickly building the tent for them. After an hour, your camp has successfully been built, and everyone begins to search for firewood.

Felix decides to make a giant pot of spicy chili sin carne for tonight’s dinner, and as soon as all the plates are filled, your conversations slowly dwindle down, everyone too busy with eating. “Lix, you’re a cooking genius, Gordon Ramsey found jobless.”, Marie says around a mouthful of chili, giving the blonde boy a bright smile and the thumbs up. He waves her compliment aside, blushing profoundly. “Thanks, but it’s honestly not that difficult - you just have to follow the recipe, if you’re too scared to improvise.”, he murmurs, and she throws a small piece of kindling at him. “You should really learn how to take compliments.”, she teases playfully, and he shrugs. “Okay, okay, I’m the best cook ever.”, he says sarcastically, and Minho raises one eyebrow. “Whoa, now don’t get ahead of yourself.”, he replies, and Felix smacks him over the head. “You can’t cook at all, so for once, you should just stay quiet.”, you say, and Minho sighs dramatically. “What can I say… We all have our weaknesses. I, for example, am extremely good-looking and tragically funny.”

You almost choke on your chili because of his audacity, and lift your fork in front of your face, staring through it and at Minho, who just frowns at you. “What are you doing? Why are you looking at me through your fork?”, he asks, obviously confused by your behavior, and you give him a lopsided smile. “I’m pretending you’re in jail, it’s spiritually healing.”, you explain, and Chan beside you bursts into laughter, the others following him quickly. Minho begins to pout and sticks out his tongue at you, always the mature one. “It’s okay if you don’t enjoy my dashing looks and hilarious humor, not everyone has good taste. That’s why you picked Chan over me after all.”, he claims, and you answer by throwing a piece of wood his way, making him squeal and dive for cover. Just then, the flames of your fire flicker and slowly begin to die down. Seungmin, Jeongin and Hyunjin stand up to go get some more firewood, but somehow, the latter one’s shoe gets caught between two logs and with a loud yelp, he tumbles to the ground. “What the Hell is he doing?!”, Chan groans, and Jeongin deadpans “Sadly his best.”, before he begins walking over towards his friend to help him, but Marie is faster, already dragging her boyfriend up from the ground with tears of laughter in her eyes. Hyunjin’s cheeks are red from embarrassment and he murmurs something about nature being out to get him, before he, Marie and the other two boys disappear into the forest to get more firewood.

The rest of the evening is filled with playful banter, soft guitar music from Jisung, and funny childhood stories. Lina soon begins to nod off, her head resting on her boyfriend’s shoulder while he continues to strum a soft tune on his guitar, humming along. When he notices his girlfriend is about to wander into Morpheus’ realm though, he’s quick to place the guitar back into its bag, and wraps both arms around her. “I think it’s time for us to retire, huh?”, he says, leaving a gentle kiss on Lina’s forehead. She blinks sleepily, and smiles up at him. “It’s pretty safe to assume that at any given moment, I want to go back to sleep - so yes, I agree, time to retire.”, she answers, and Jisung chuckles, before standing up to declare: “Well, we’re off to bed now!” Minho and Seungmin boo immediately, while Jeongin murmurs something like “Old people” under his breath - even though he’s literally only one year younger than most of you guys.

“So, as I’m legally required to kiss my homies goodnight, y’all getting some smooches!”, Jisung says, already walking towards where Hyunjin and Marie are sitting, bodies entangled and breaths mingling. Hyunjin looks up and shoots his friend a murderous look. “I swear, if you kiss me, I’m going to dump you into the river.”, he threatens, but Jisung just grins. “How about you dump your girlfriend instead and run away with me? We’d make such a pretty couple.”, he says, making Hyunjin roll his eyes. “Bro, no offense, but I’d be the pretty one in this relationship, and while everyone can clearly see you already have quite the experience being the ugly one in a relationship” with that, Hyunjin first points at Jisung and then at Lina, who bursts out laughing, “I don’t think I’m ready to hear your constant whining about my face being prettier than yours. So thanks, but no thanks, I’ll stay with Marie.” “Wow, I feel so honored and loved right now, babe.”, Marie says sarcastically, “But does this mean you think you’re the pretty one in this relationship as well?” Hyunjin goes into instant panic mode, quickly reassuring his girlfriend that she’s far prettier than him, while she tries to keep a stern expression on her face, but everyone can clearly see the way her lips twitch. She just loves teasing Hyunjin, and you honestly can’t blame her for that, especially not when it’s just so easy.

“Okay, goodnight, then!”, Lina interrupts their playful bickering, and gives everyone a soft smile, before dragging Jisung towards their tent. Everyone wishes them a good night and sweet dreams as well, and then Seungmin clears his throat. “Time for some ghost stories, don’t you think?”, he says, voice low and grin almost evil when his eyes find Hyunjin, who immediately falls silent. Everyone knows he’s a huge scaredy cat, which is quite funny seeing as his own girlfriend is a big fan of horror movies and stories. Truly a match made in Heaven. Seungmin just raises one eyebrow, expression challenging - but when no one contradicts him, he begins to tell his first ghost story.

It doesn’t take long until Hyunjin is pretty much sitting on Marie’s lap, shooting daggers at his friend while his girlfriend is trying very hard not to laugh at him. You yourself cuddle closer to your own boyfriend, smiling when he presses a soft kiss against your temple. Your eyes rest on the big bonfire, following some sparks drifting into the dark night sky from time to time, and you sigh contently. This, right here, is your happy place - in the midst of your friends, just laughing and joking with them, not a care in the world. Midterms lie behind you, and you’re currently not even thinking about your grades for once, your anxiety at rest. This trip was truly a great idea, maybe even Jisung’s best one so far.

“Okay, wanna hear a really creepy one-”, Seungmin begins, and Hyunjin has finally had enough, standing up and taking Marie’s hand into his. “Well, goodnight!”, he says, a determined expression on his face, and pulls his girlfriend towards their tent. Marie suppresses an amused smile at her boyfriend’s dramatics, and waves at everyone, before following him inside the tent. Seungmin just grins evilly and shrugs. “He’s so soft hearted.”, he then says, and leans back, obviously content with his work. “Okay, maybe it’s three demons, not only two.”, you murmur into Chan’s ear, and he chuckles. You’re always joking about Minho and Hyunjin being demons, as they’re constantly testing your nerves by just being themselves, plus they were definitely the main plotters behind the plan to get you and Chan together - not that you’re complaining about it as their plan had worked pretty perfectly and in your favor. “In the end you’ll probably find that I live with six demons.”, your boyfriend murmurs, and begins to play with your fingers. You shake your head. “Oh no, Felix is definitely an angel, not a demon.”, you disagree, and Chan nods. “Okay, that’s true. The others though… Well, time will tell, I guess.” “Or holy water.” He just laughs and gives you a quick peck on the lips. When you want to deepen the kiss, he draws back. “Later.”, he murmurs against your lips, his deep voice rumbling in his chest, and you shiver involuntarily. He grins at your reaction, before turning his attention to Seungmin’s new ghost story again.

You on the other hand feel hot and bothered all of the sudden, and decide to tease your boyfriend a bit. So you place your hand on his thigh, not moving it for some time, until you slowly slide it higher, bit by bit. At first, Chan doesn’t seem to notice or care, until you’re getting dangerously close to his crotch. Then, he quickly leans forward so the others can’t see what you’re doing, and glares at you. “What are you doing?”, he asks, voice low, and you smile innocently. “Nothing.”, you answer, and have finally reached your desired destination, slowly beginning to palm his semi over his jeans. “How about you be a good girl and stop?”, he breathes out, but you know he doesn’t actually want you to stop - you know him well enough for that by now. Still, you decide to play along. “Oh, I’ll gladly be your good girl.”, you whisper, and quickly withdraw your hand. He groans at your words and the sudden lack of contact, and locks eyes with you. “Tent. Now.”, he grits out, and stands up, pulling you with him and hugging you from behind so your body hides his erection from the others. “We’re tired too, so goodnight!”, he says in a fake cheerful voice, and you have to hide your shit-eating grin while innocently waving at the others. “Oh you’re in so much trouble now, babe.”, Chan murmurs into your ear while you walk towards your tent, and bites down on your lobe. You feel arousal gather between your legs, stomach jolting at his words. You and Chan have a very playful relationship, full of bantering and loving jokes, and your dynamic in the bedroom isn’t that different - there’s a lot of bickering too, you being a total brat at times, while he’s more on the dominant side, enjoying making you obedient.

As soon as he closes the tent behind you and turns around to watch you with an almost predatory gaze, you know you might have been a bit too forward at the bonfire. But it’s too late to back down now, so you simply raise both eyebrows, a challenging expression on your face. “So you think touching me like that in front of our friends is okay?”, Chan asks, his voice low and dark. You tilt your head to one side. “I mean, you didn’t seem opposed to it, to be honest.”, you answer, and now he’s the one to lift both eyebrows. “I want you out of your clothes, now.”, your boyfriend orders, and for once, you follow his command immediately, knowing this is for your own good this time. So you quickly wiggle out of your jeans and take off your jumper, shivering in the cold night air. Only left in your panties and bra, Chan smirks to himself, before crawling over your body and beginning to kiss you slowly. You gasp into his mouth when one of his warm hands finds your waist, drawing lazy circles against it, before traveling higher to cup your breast over your bra. His thumb rubs over your clothed nipple before pinching it, hard, and you arch your back, breath hitching.

“So, let’s see how quiet you can stay while I eat you out, hm? Remember, the walls of the tent are too thin to mask any noises.”, Chan whispers against your lips, before he suddenly descends down your body. Oh no, you know you’re screwed. He’ll try to make you scream his name, but while you’re quite open about sex and have no problem talking about it with your friends, you definitely don’t need them to hear you during the actual act. Maybe you shouldn’t have teased your boyfriend after all - but it’s too late now, he’s determined. He spreads your legs, and begins to leave soft love bites on the inside of your thighs. You’re trembling already, and it’s not because of the cold alone. Chan always has this effect on you, no matter how often he touches you - you’ll never get used to it. He plays with the hem of your panties, until he finally drags them down your legs, his warm breath hitting your wet core. You begin to squirm, impatient to have him finally touch you where you need him most. He smacks your thigh, the crack resounding through the tent, and you yelp. “Chan.”, you hiss, and he grins cheekily, before suddenly pressing his thumb to your clit, beginning to draw lazy circles against it. Your eyes roll into the back of your head and you clamp one hand over your mouth to mask any noises.

Chan soon replaces his thumb with his mouth, sucking on your clit like his life depends on it while simultaneously sliding two fingers inside your heat. A loud moan tears from your lips and you bite the inside of your cheek, trying to stifle your noises but already failing miserably. You feel Chan smirk against you, and then, he slips a third finger inside you, curling them upwards and picking up the pace. You buck your hips against his gentle ministrations, skin feeling too hot and too tight already, goosebumps rising all over your body. It doesn’t take long until you begin to tremble, your high approaching rather quickly, and you’re this close to finally snapping, when Chan draws back from your core, face glistening with your juices, his smirk almost devilish. “I can’t hear you, babe, are you even enjoying this?”, he murmurs, back to drawing lazy patterns on your clit with his thumb. You feel frustration wash over you, and shoot him a dark glare. His grin gets even wider, before he completely withdraws his hand from your heat to suck on his glistening fingers. You close your eyes for a few seconds, trying to gather your wits, until Chan slaps your thigh again. “Look at me, baby.”, he says, voice dark, and your eyes snap open again. You begin to pout. “Please.”, you mumble, trying your best to appeal to his softer side, “I’m sorry I was a brat earlier. You know I can’t be loud or the others might hear us.” Your boyfriend just hums, hands ghosting over your thighs and leaving goosebumps in their wake. “Too bad, I guess you can’t cum tonight then.” And before you’re able to reply anything, he dives back in-between your folds.

You throw one arm over your mouth, and bite your own soft flesh to suppress any noises. It takes little to no time until you’re close to your orgasm again, but for the second time tonight, Chan draws back in the last possible second. You’re almost ready to cry with frustration now, eyes glistening with unshed tears. When your boyfriend sees this, he softens a bit and leans towards you to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “This is what you get for being a brat.”, he murmurs, and you bite down on his lower lip, making him groan into your mouth. “Please.”, you whisper and try your best puppy eyes on him. He just smirks again, finally ridding himself off his shirt, jeans and underwear. When he’s fully naked in front of you, you sigh, eyes raking his beautiful, defined body. Unlike you, Chan actually enjoys going to the gym - and his effort pays off. “Stop drooling.”, he says, sounding way too pleased and cocky in your opinion. So you quickly sit up, and wrap one hand around his hard cock, already leaking with pre-cum. Good to see you’re not the only one being affected by this, you think and grin. You begin to slowly jerk him off, spreading the pre-cum over the rest of his cock as lube. He groans, lower lip pulled back between his teeth and eyes almost black with desire. Finally, he’s had enough, and pushes you on your back again, hovering over you. “There’s condoms in the bag behind you.”, he murmurs, leaving gentle kisses on your neck until he finds your sweet spot, beginning to suck on it. You moan almost inaudible, fingers fumbling for said bag to retrieve a condom.

Just seconds later, Chan rolls it over his cock, and then, he aligns himself in front of your wet core, teasingly rubbing your clit before you shoot him a pleading look. He finally sheathes himself into you with one swift motion, and you both moan out loud at the feeling. You quickly cough to cover the noise, making Chan chuckle and press a kiss against your forehead. “You’re okay?”, he asks, and you nod, biting down on his neck and leaving a hickey. He groans and finally begins to move, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back into you, immediately hitting that spot. Your fingers wrap around his biceps, needing something to hold onto while he drills into you. Suddenly, he pulls out of you to sit back on his knees, wrapping your legs around his hips, and thrusts back into you at an even deeper angle, simultaneously picking up the pace. One of his hands snakes towards your neck and he wraps his fingers around the base of your throat, using just enough pressure to make breathing harder for you. When his thumb begins to circle your clit again, you close your eyes, clamping one hand over your mouth to mask your almost obscene noises.

“C-Chan, I’m so c-close.”, you say in between two moans, and he grins, murmuring a “That’s my girl” under his breath before deepening the angle even more. He suddenly pinches your clit once, and that’s all it takes for you to finally tumble over the edge, his name leaving your lips maybe a bit too loud this time. He quickly leans forward to seal your mouth with his, chasing his own high while guiding you through yours. Not long after, he groans and presses his forehead against yours, shuddering a bit while releasing into the condom. He stills inside you, both your breaths mingling, hearts beating fast while you try to come down from your high. Chan smiles, brushing some of your hair out of your face, and gives you a soft, sweet kiss. “I love you.”, he murmurs, and you return his smile. “Love you more.”, you whisper back, and he chuckles. “Impossible.”

Before you can begin to playfully argue, Minho’s voice cuts through the night “Next time we’ll build the tents far away from each other, y’all are nasty for doing it with us sitting almost right next you.” Both you and Chan freeze, before you burst out laughing. “WE HAVE ZERO REGRETS.”, you yell back, hearing the others groan. “WELL, YOU REALLY SHOULD THOUGH!”, Jisung complains from somewhere to your left, and you hear Lina starting to giggle. You groan and bury your face into Chan’s neck. “They’ll never let us hear the end of this, will they.”, you murmur against his soft skin, and he shakes his head. “Nope.” You sigh and lean back. “Well, it was still worth it.”, you say, and grin up at him. Your boyfriend just smirks and leans down to kiss you again. “Oh, definitely.”

[masterlist] | [requests]

262 notes · View notes

suknas · 3 years

Text

First Line Tag Game II

Tagged by @ruluxe (who dared to say that I have fanfics that I'm "holdin out on us" -- it is true tho lol)

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening lines then tag 10 of your favorite authors.

Tagging: Everyone who wants to do this! (I'm not sure which authors are still active here ;-;)

Now we all know how inconsistent I am. But I do like starting with what's going on with the characters/where they are... Don't I? Well I decided to start with the most recent published ones, descending to the first ones published (skipping some), and finally some of my WIP/"One day I will finish" fanfics.

Quick fun fact: I didn't remember writing most of those fanfics lol

So here we go!!!! (it's gonna be a bumpy ride)

1. Into the Storm [GrimmIchi]: The lightning and thundering's brightness and strong noises were slicing the dark-blue sky of a lonely and sleepless night. A storm was coming. The heavy rain and gusts of wind were not the only thing rapidly creeping through the night. Kurosaki Ichigo could sense something else approaching along with the dark clouds and the pouring rain that now was hitting his window. [2021 (but the draft was from 2017 maybe), Bleach]

2. Ascension [AoKaga]: Light appeared in the darkness and soon darkness became insignificant before the beauty and immensity of the bright light surrounding a tall and masculine figure. He walked calmly through the uncertain route that many others once also stepped into it. He had a goal. The time to seek the one whom he had once shared many memories with, good and bad. The one person whom he had loved immensely but had never gotten to experience that feeling truly and at its fullest. The time had finally come. [2021 (again the draft was probably from 2016), Kuroko no Basket]

3. The One Where Prompto Does Not Want To Be In The Middle [Gladios x Prompto x Noctis x Ignis]: Sleeping in the camping tent was always a challenge in Prompto’s opinion. It is not as if he does not like camping, it was pretty nice being able to sit under the stars and gaze them, it was relaxing. Sometimes Noctis would sit behind him, embracing him in a warm hug. They would spend a long time chatting and exchanging affectionate touches until both of them felt like sleeping. Other times Gladio would join him, and the shield would let the blond lay his head on his lap. More often than not Prompto ended up sleeping while feeling his hair being played by dexterous and caring fingers. And whenever Ignis had time to spare, he would also join him after cleaning the mess they did during dinner. [2020 (again the draft was maybe from 2017), Final Fantasy XV]

4. The Owl Who Got Caught [KuroTsuki + Bokuto]: The third day of the training camp was finally over. Soon, everybody was running to the school cafeteria to grab something to eat. In the meantime, while nobody was looking, Kuroo took the opportunity to take Tsukishima’s hand, guiding him to the room that the Nekoma team was sharing; closing the door right after they entered. Nekoma and Karasuno’s middle blockers became closer ever since their first practice game, now they were spending more time together, and their relationship had an unexpected development. [2020 (draft probably from 2017), Haikyuu]

5. A Boyfriend Text [KuroTsuki]: Laying in his bed with a smile on the lips Kuroo was texting his sweet strawberry shortcake boyfriend. Eyes rapt, staring at the bright screen in the dark room; he was feeling anxious if his stupid smile and trembling fingers were any indicator.

TETSUROU: Wanna come over this weekend?

It had been some weeks since they had the opportunity to meet; school and volleyball practice were mostly the reason for their inevitable long separation. Week after week something "magically" came up in their agendas, but Kuroo was hopeful, however, that maybe this time their schedules would finally allow them to meet. [2020, Haikyuu]

6. Domestic Bliss [KiriBaku]: Sitting comfortably on the couch, Kirishima and Bakugou were finally spending some time together after a rough week. It was one of those rare days where both could enjoy a peaceful and uneventful afternoon. To say that both men were lazily on the couch doing absolutely nothing productive was not very accurate. Bakugou was doing something with his spear time, he was reading a book. By his focused attention on the pages, anyone could tell that he was enjoying his reading and only someone stupid would dare to bother him. [2017, Boku no Hero Academia]

7. Getting Together [KiriBaku]: “Let’s grab something to eat!” The blonde shouted after stretching his arms above his head. Bakugou’s red eyes fixed on the figure of Kirishima, who was sitting comfortably in bed with his back against the headboard.The redhead’s own red eyes snapped at the figure on the chair, eyeing him from head to toe; he spaced out in no second. Kirishima wanted to touch those damn nice muscled arms, which were slowly lowered down while his hands were placed on his toned thighs. Kirishima couldn’t help himself and started to imagine Bakugou’s whole body underneath him wrapping his body with those strong legs and arms. [2017, Boku no Hero Academia]

8. AoKaga short stories collection [AoKaga]: The atmosphere of the place was hot and heavy. However, because of that, the two teens lying down on the bed were more connected than ever. Their bare bodies were united white skin with dark skin. Their breaths were out of rhythm and their hands slid skillfully on each other’s bodies. The movements were synchronized and intense. The pleasurable moans and whispers echoed in the dark room, making the place even more delightful for both of them. [2017 - Short Story #4, Kuroko no Basket]

9. It's Picture Time! [Pomptis]: In the Regalia, Prompto and Ignis were heading to the nearest outpost from their camping spot to get some supplies for the night. The sun on the horizon was almost hiding behind the tree path by Prompto’s right side, the scenery formed by dim light and shadowy dark spots caught Prompto’s eyes.“Wow! Look at the light, it’s amazing!” the blond shouted, “Can’t we stop just for a bit?” Prompto was thrilled by the idea of adding more photos to his portfolio. [2017, Final Fantasy XV]

10. That Side of You [MiSawa]: Miyuki was laying in the bed on his back, eyes glassy, hands shaking and skin hot. The body above his was driving him to a place where it was absolute bliss and pleasure. Hips moved together, swinging with movements that were making Miyuki moans the pitcher’s name in a short and breathless tone.“Sa-wamura– Aah! Do that again,” his voice low and hoarse made the order sound weak, and his usual snarky tone was lost a long time ago in some part of his foggy mind. [2016, Diamond no Ace]

11. Runaround [Sterek]: Everything was set neatly on the kitchen table. Stiles was going to be there soon, so Derek had already prepared every single book and even snacks that they may need for their studying.It wasn't new that both of them were hanging out for studying matters. Actually, Derek had come up with the idea first, mainly because he was having some issues involving fast heartbeats and some inconvenient hard-ons whenever Stiles was around. He had a ridiculous crush on his friend. However, the smart geek boy didn't have to know about that. [2016, Teen Wolf]

12. Eavesdropping [MiSawa]: Sawamura’s suspicions must be right for his sake. Otherwise, Miyuki would make sure his so careless kouhai would pay a high price for being so noisy about Kuramochi and Ryou-senpai making out when no one was seeing. The closed and almost claustrophobic locker didn’t have enough space to move around, but he and Sawamura managed to fit in somehow. So what? They were eavesdropping, and he still couldn’t say that he was regretting this. [2016, Diamond no Ace]

13. Sterek Short Stories Collection [Sterek]: Stiles had broken up with his last boyfriend a couple of months ago. Or it was what he usually says to Scott when his best friend asks him why he isn’t over his past relationship. Because according to Scott, it’s been a year and a half since Stiles had parted ways with, at the time, his other half. And right now it was one of those times.“You should move on. I haven't seen you with no one since then. What about Danny? Last night I saw him flirting with you, and when I looked again you were nowhere to be found, but Danny was still there drinking alone. And let not forget your grumpy humor because your sex life sucks. It's getting old bro.” [2015 - Short Story #3, Teen Wolf]

14. Urge [AoKaga]: The small public bathroom stall in that bar hadn't been made for sure to accommodate two giants, dumbasses, and impulsive basketball players. Nevertheless, this fact wasn’t that important for the Too player neither to the Seirin player. Kagami was already pressing his body against Aomine’s, who was stuck between the wall and Kagami while his mouth was being devoured by the other’s tongue. Both were fighting into that kiss as if there was no tomorrow. Their hands were traveling quickly by each other’s body, and quickly they were undoing their pants’ zippers and buttons. Their shirts were all messy, as well as their hair. Their breaths were heavy, and the kisses now were directed to their necks, sucking and biting the skin exposed. Soft moans could be heard, but not loud enough to echo in the bathroom. [2013, Kuroko no Basket]

15. After Dancing Lessons [AoKaga]: The music was set up, and his hips started to move, his steps were guiding him to where a dark skinned guy was sat on a chair. The dancer's eyes were fixed in front of him. The watcher's eyes sparkled with excitement when the other sat on his lap, one leg on each side of his body, and kissed his cheeks along to his lips and chin, returning the same way till his ear, biting there slightly. The dancer felt the other hands trying to take his clothes off and immediately stood up, preventing to have those hands on his body so easily. [2013, Kuroko no Basket]

16. Sleep Well [ZoSan]: The night was agitated on board of the Sunny and lots of dirty dishes were pilled up on a corner of the sink. Sanji didn't have this time someone to help him to clean everything up. 'Those lazy bastards!' He frowned, 'all right! Let’s put all these things in their right place!' And with that thought, Sanji started the tiring process of doing all the dishes. On the bright side, if he was the one doing it everything would be spot on in no time. [2013, One Piece]

17. Possessive Lover [KidLaw / LawLu]: The bell indicating the change of periods rang and the students gradually began to leave one room to proceed to another. In the middle of changing classrooms, some students went to a quick trip to the bathroom, which was where that a spiky redhead boy was heading to. He had a dangerous gaze gleaming in his golden eyes; he had quite a threatening presence, and his looks did not lie about his fiery and explosive personality. Any sane person would prefer to avoid crossing paths with him or to even look the boy in the eyes. [2012, One Piece]

18. English Lesson [WIP, AoKaga]: The room was a mess. There were a lot of magazines, books, sheets, some snacks, three soda bottles, two hoodies and two pairs of sneakers all thrown on the floor. Sitting side by side, in front of the center table with notebooks and pens in hands were Kagami and Aomine. They had that idea of starting to study at each other’s places every Thursday night after their club activities. It was not like they liked to take a book, read it and think about the subject, the matter here was way bigger than just casual study. Their grades were in the red mark, which meant that they needed to rise them at least not to get scolded and taken off the basketball team. This time around Kagami was helping Aomine with his English study. The redhead was doing his best to try to explain, but he wasn’t that good at teaching those so detailed grammatical things… [unknown year - present, Kuroko no Basket]

19. High heels [WIP, KuroTsuki]: Tsukishima walked all proud on a black suit, white button-up shirt, grey tie and black stilettos in the room. Kuroo was watching his slow movements with a fierce look from the bed, where he was sat with his hands tied to the headboard by a soft cloth. Tsukishima stopped at the bed foot, looking straight at Kuroo. Ever so slowly, Tsukishima’s hands loosened the tie around his neck, the button-up shirt was having his buttons calmly undone, soon the shirt was wide open reviling Tsukishima's snow-white skin for Kuroo’s delight. [unknown year - present, Haikyuu]

20. Christmas thing / The untitled fanfic [WIP, AoKaga]: It was Christmas the snow was falling outside, many sparkle lights, so many decorations everywhere, people receiving and giving presents, eating together and singing songs. A day to celebrate and stay with family and friends. A day full of joy and happiness.At Kagami's house every single tradition was made. Kagami invited the Seirin basketball team to celebrate, but it ended up with some unexpected guests, the self-invited guests were some of Touou basketball team. And of course, Aomine Daiki was there. The redhead didn't even want to know how Aomine had found out about his little party. He'd bet that Kuroko had told something to Momoi and she kindly invited Aomine and the rest of the troupe. [unknown year - present, Kuroko no Basket]

#ruluxe #tag game #Kuroos got tagged #that was fun and I'm also embarrassed that I wrote some of these lol #aokaga #kurotsuki #grimmichi #sterek #misawa #kiribaku #zosan #lawlu #kidlaw #kuroosden #Kuroos writing again

17 notes · View notes

lokidiabolus · 3 years

Text

Last Resort - Chapter 2

Fandom: The Maze Runner

Pairing: Thomas x Newt

Warnings: ex boyfriends, AU

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

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

Can be found on Ao3.

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

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

Oh and @izzymultifan (actually remembered)

Unbetad!

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

(Lots of them.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And some fucking horny prick just took it?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck off!”

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

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

Still angry and miserable.

Still… there.

***

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

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

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

Not Thomas’. Not anymore.

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

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

The guy who left the mark?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why the fuck is she so perceptive?

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

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

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

I really need some sleep.

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Thomas wanted too much.

***

He never stopped wanting.

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe he was just obsessive. Suffocating.

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

Maybe… it was simply impossible.

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And bed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Overnight…?

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

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

“But-,”

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

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

“I did this?!”

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

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

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

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

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

“I see.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry you had to.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What.”

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

“Uh.”

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

“Thinking,” the brunet mumbled with a frown.

“About?”

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

“Pfff.”

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

“Newt.”

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

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

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

A sigh. Thomas let go of the zipper.

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

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

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

Seriously testing me. That’s-

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

He always did. Nothing had changed.

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

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

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

A colleague. And nothing else?

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

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

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

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

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

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

But…

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

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

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

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

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

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

He ignored the uncertainty and took a leap of faith.

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

9 notes · View notes

dylinski · 4 years

Text

Come Back Home

Warnings: angst with happy ending, smut (vanilla), language, vomiting, seizure, lots of kissing, fighting

Relationships: Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale

Word Count: 10465

Author: @dylinski

A/N: so, i spent six months on this lol. i also haven't written anything in three months so yay! let’s just hope i can stay in the groove and keep my muse. ☺️ this is also a submission for sterek bingo 2020

Derek walked into the seedy motel room, the sound of panging rain echoing through the small space. He collapsed on the bed exhaustedly, not bothered to remove his soused clothes. He let out a distressing grunt and winced in pain from shifting in bed, forgetting he had been wounded. There wasn’t much concern for it since abnormally rapid healing was expected, so he let sleep take him willingly despite his discomfort.

It had been like this for months now, the endless cycle of wasting his day away chasing his demons and passing out in a shady rented room to do it all again the next. He found comfort in this, or at least a numbness from all the memories he was hopelessly trying to suppress. It kept his thoughts occupied and he was always too engrossed or depleted to allow his mind to wander without his consent. Unfortunately, he had even less control over the slumberous plane versus his conscious one.

Dreams were never a relative concept to Derek since they customarily failed to linger after he opened his eyes. He could always feel the essence of the illusions of sleep, but that would soon dissipate as well. There was always that one nagging feeling in his abdomen that he could faintly feel albeit his attempts to choke it down. Always there, always lingering, to the point that he thought he might feel empty without it.

Typically, when suffering from a nightmare, Derek would wake suddenly and still as if he were petrified. No screaming, no cold sweats, no rapid heartbeat. As if he had been given a dose of kanima venom, his body found no reaction to the terrors that absconded once his lids flew open. So what made tonight different? What suddenly changed in him, allowing everything he had spent months taking apart to force itself back together, pulling like a magnetic field until it was recognizable?

Derek sat up violently in bed, his eyes flashing blue in the stark black of the room as it was riddled with the sounds of panting and a rapid heartbeat. Being a werewolf meant the muscle in his chest was already accelerated, with the rate at which it thumped now could end in sudden cardiac failure for anyone without supernatural aptitudes. He sucked air through his teeth at the sudden jerky motion upwards, instinctively bringing a hand to his stomach. Through the darkness, he could see his fingers laced with blood. Temporarily sidetracked, he jumped from the bed and flicked on the light switch, shielding his eyes at the abrupt flooding of brightness.

Derek lifted his shirt up while standing in front of the rancid sink and mirror to reveal the bullet wound that had befallen him earlier that night. He peeled off his shirt, raising his arms slowly as the pain began to radiate through his body in hopes to examine the spot more easily. Pulling the skin back, it appeared that his injury had not only failed to improve but began to deteriorate. A rush of horror made his stomach jump, nausea overcame him, knocking him to his knees as he emptied his belly into the toilet. Leaning back, he wiped the corner of his mouth and rested his head against the cold linoleum walls of the bathroom.

With his eyes closed, all the images he suffered during his slumber came rushing back, and a sting like being stabbed repeatedly manifested where he was starting to bleed again. Sitting on the floor, distraught and terrified, he let a single tear cascade down his cheek as he clasped at the lesion in his side. What was happening? The inability to recover physically was pushing his body to its barriers mentally, assuming that was what was happening here. He took in a deep breath through his nose and let it out slowly, preparing to shut his lids and face what was haunting his mind. There were flashes of memories and voices, but nothing concrete, like a puzzle that was still trying to piece itself back together.

Derek knew exactly what his subconscious was trying to communicate, exactly what recollection he had thoroughly stored away in the recesses of his mind. Regardless, he was able to call upon the record of his life. He drew in deeply as the breath hitched in his lungs, holding back the hot tears that were brimming in his eyes. It probably should have been archived as a happy memory, that moment in someone's life that alters their course and turns their world on its head, which it was, but being Derek wasn’t an exact science.

***

The large metal door flew open with a loud clang, reverberating through the large loft, as Derek swung it open. His arms were full, carrying the lanky boy, hooking his legs over his arm while wrapping his other around his back and under his shoulders. “Derek! I said I’m fine, okay? Just put me down!”

“No.”

The freckle-faced boy slacked his jaw and glinted in distaste while Derek avoided eye contact, focused on the task at hand. The boy grunted in defiance and tried to wiggle out of his arms, but Derek tightened his grip making it almost impossible without supernatural strength of his own. “Jesus, Derek. Why are you acting like a crazy person?”

Derek only responded with a grunt as he approached his bed, laying Stiles down gently. He disappeared into the bathroom as Stiles leaned back on his elbows, rolling his eyes and throwing his head back as he shouted, “Seriously dude, I'm fine!”

Derek started back towards Stiles with a first-aid box in hand and a brooding mug. Stiles scoffed when he thought about the idea of a werewolf keeping a first-aid kit around, but then it occurred to him and his face went flush. Derek scurried to his side and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong? Do you need me to take the pain?” Derek grabbed Stiles’ limp hand and anchored him back to the moment.

“Huh? What? Oh, no. No, I’m fine.” Stiles was easily distracted.

Derek rolled his eyes as he let Stiles’ hand go reluctantly and turned to get a better view of his ankle.

“You keep saying that.” Derek’s voice was gruff and annoyed. He pulled off Stiles’s shoe and the boy winced as he pulled in air sharply. “And as usual, you are not fine.” Stiles rolled his honey eyes and let his head roll between his shoulders mockingly.

Derek peeled off the brunette’s sock and turned up the hem of his pants the best he could without causing discomfort.

Stiles was trying to hold his breath to hide the pain that radiated from his ankle up to his thigh as Derek worked on him, but the rhythm of his heart betrayed him. His eyes were screwed shut and the pain started to fade, allowing him to relax, but when he realized what was happening, his eyes flew open.

“Hey! I said don’t do that!” He swatted Derek’s hand away, the black veins in his arm paling. Derek grunted and put his hand back on his skin, the charcoal lines pulling the ache from him. There was no point in fighting Derek because Stiles had no doubt that if he kept it up Derek would have him tied down so that he couldn’t push his hand away. If there was anyone to rival the stubbornness of Stiles Stilinski, it was Derek Hale.

The pain dispersed and he could only feel a slight tingly sensation along with the impression of the swelling. Stiles sat up to bring Derek and his foot into view. The ankle was roughly the size of a tennis ball and he had had enough broken bones and injuries in his life to know that wasn’t a good sign. “How bad is it? Is it broken?” Stiles coiled back, preparing for the answer. Derek didn’t respond so he wiggled his leg to get his attention. “Do I need to go see Melissa?”

“No.”

“No, what? I asked three questions.” Stiles squinted and pursed his lips.

“I know.” Derek kept his focus on Stiles’ ankle, continuing to care for the injury.

“Okay, grumpy-pants, that still doesn’t clarify anything,” Stiles said as he waved his hand and rolled his eyes.

Stiles seemed more easy-going since Derek took the pain and the wolf found comfort in that. From the angle he was to the boy, Stiles couldn’t see the small uptick on the corner of his mouth.

“No, it’s not bad. No, it’s not broken. And no, you don’t need to see Melissa.”

Stiles unknowingly let out a long sigh of relief as he let his head fall back. Stikes took a deep inhale before he looked back up and Derek was finishing up wrapping the white compression gauze around his foot. He couldn’t help the smile that graced his lips as he watched the man care for him, a side Derek tried to keep buried down but Stiles had seen break through the surface many times.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Derek hadn’t removed his eyes from Stiles’ injury, so the brunette shook his head in awe, startled that he was able to notice. Damn werewolf senses.

“Looking at you like what?” Stiles didn’t even try to hide the sass in his tone.

Derek sighed and pulled in his lips as he turned his head towards Stiles. He tilted his head and knitted his brows together.

“I’m sorry, I don’t speak eyebrows,” Stiles mocked.

Derek rolled his eyes at Stiles and picked up the items he had littered around the foot of the bed while nursing the boy's ankle. He placed them all back into the kit and stood up, walking over to the center of the room. He placed it on the table in front of the couch as he sunk into its cushions. Leaning back, Derek rubbed the place between his eyebrows and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was so exhausted. Letting out a long sigh, he straightened his back by sitting up, knowing he couldn't rest yet.

He looked over to Stiles who was still examining him adamantly. “You need to rest, Stiles.”

“Apparently, so do you.” He threw an arm up at the man as he shifted in the bed, pulling himself up to lean against the headboard.

Derek sighed and let his head fall into his hands, digging his elbows into his thighs as he leaned forward.

Stiles scooted over to the side of the bed as best he could without twisting or moving his ankle then cleared his throat. Derek looked up hazily and saw Stiles pat the spot on the mattress next to him.

Quizzically, Derek looked the scene over and drew lines into his forehead. Stiles tried to offer him assurance with the softest of smiles.

Nervously gulping, Derek let his thoughts run rampant. It’s not that the idea repulsed him, but that fact that it didn’t. He’s known Stiles for a few years now and he has successfully drowned his feelings for him in that time frame. Stiles wasn’t very subtle and he could tell that the brunette felt...something too, whatever that may be.

No matter what he did, Stiles seemed to weave himself into the structure of Derek’s existence and there was no denying it, so he ignored it. Giving in to his weariness, he stood up and walked over to the bed, falling into its embrace. He edged the side, trying to put as much space between him and Stiles as he could.

“Look, I know you bite, but I don’t.” Derek rolled over to face the boy and glared at him with tired eyes.

Shrugging his shoulders, Stiles slid down onto his back and let his fingers tap restlessly on his belly. Derek drowned out the noise by honing in on the boy’s rhythmic breathing. In...out. In...out. In...out.

***

A surging pain woke Derek on the bathroom floor, wrenching his intestines as he leaned over to puke again. He opened his wet eyes and saw that everything in the toilet was black. A cold chill ran down his spine and his body started to tremble as he leaned against the wall again.

With his mind spinning, he couldn’t focus on anything around him let alone a coherent thought. He pressed his palms to the cold floor, pushing up to attempt bringing himself to his feet. Before he could raise himself higher than three inches, his arms gave way and he settled back onto the ground.

If he wanted to live through the night, he was going to need help from someone...anyone. He was desperate and his instinct was taking hold, his need to survive no matter what. His wolf howled as his fragile body was decaying from the inside out.

Derek’s eyes flew open, their brilliant cyan shining in the dimness of the small space as he let out a pained shout. He needed to call for help before he passed out again fearing he wouldn’t wake up next time. He reached into his pocket, pulling his phone out and agonizingly typed in a number. His fingers were weak, along with the rest of him, struggling to enter the digits with one hand. He left black blood on the screen as he tapped, there was black blood everywhere.

His lids grew heavy and his hand went limp just as he managed to send the call. He listened to the shrilling ring on the line as he faded into the absence of reality. The last thing he heard was the familiar voice calling his name with panic. He wanted to say something back, he wanted to comfort them and convince them he was okay, to take the worry from their mind but he couldn’t.

***

Derek awoke to the feeling of fingers tracing the lines of his face. Without opening his eyes, he smiled and grabbed the hand, pulling the person it belonged to into his chest. They shifted and turned, placing the curve of their back into Derek, slotting them together perfectly. His arm was draped over them and placed over their heart, feeling the rapid pumping of blood. He nuzzled his face into the crevice of their neck and shoulder, inhaling deeply and feeling tingly at the scent he loved.

The scent.

That Scent.

Fuck.

Startled with reality finally catching up to him, Derek jumped up from the bed, and Stiles fell off the other side in response. Derek ran over to him and kneeled down next to the boy as he groaned. “Oh shit, sorry... I didn’t...I just...sorry.” Stiles was rubbing the back of his head and sitting up while Derek looked him over frantically, terrified he had broken him.

“It’s fine, sourwolf. I’m still relatively in one piece.” Stiles leaned back on his hands, giving him a content smile and Derek let his features wash over him. Like a crashing wave, everything hit him all at once. All the emotions and thoughts he had built a barrier to hold back. The dam had cracked and the pressure became too heavy. For the briefest of seconds, he lost all control and brain function, purely acting out of instinct.

He frantically grabbed Stiles’s face with both hands and pulled him to his lips, kissing him as if his life depended on it. There wasn’t any tongue or sexualization to it, but a hunger and desire to be closer, to be one.

Every movement of their lips clashing together felt like breath was being drawn out of his chest, pulling him in like a mist into the other man’s lungs. He was so enamored by the feeling of Stiles’ mouth that he failed to realize the fingers weaving into his hair, pulling so tight that it stung his scalp. He needed Stiles so fervently that searing tears welled in his eyes and leaked past their closed hoods.

When Stiles felt the warm moisture between their cheeks, he broke the kiss and ran his fingers through the wolf’s hair, then bringing his palm to cup his cheek. He brushed away a stray tear as the raven-haired man leaned into it, eyes still refusing to crack. He inclined forward and kissed Derek’s damp cheek where the tear had been wiped away. They sat there in silence, taking in the presence of the other.

They didn’t need words to communicate, they never did. Words were pointless between them, unable to bring light and understanding to what the other was truly experiencing. If you took a look back in their history, you could catch the longing gazes that failed to hide their affection while the other wasn’t looking. The ability to connect and comprehend one another without even speaking. Conversations of the eyes that allowed them to converse with their souls rather than their words.

Possibly, they weren’t entirely aware of it themselves, but it was there nonetheless. When they did become vocal, it was banter and words of indifference, contrasting everything their bodies spoke truth to. Their subconscious’ blatantly aware of what was happening between them, but their primitive brains just needing to catch up.

“Derek…” Stiles’ voice was barely above a whisper and it made the wolf knead deeper into his hand. The way he said his name, it was dangerous. Dangerous in the sense that it was raw and desperate.

Derek’s eyes finally opened and they were the piercing cobalt that bore into Stiles’s whiskey ones.

Gnawing on his lip, Stiles leaned back in slowly and searched for some kind of rejection in the cerulean orbs, but found none. He kissed Derek so gently that the brush of their lips was almost non-existent. He kissed again, somewhat harder. He repeated the action, each kiss becoming more and more demanding.

They made their way back up to the bed, refusing to break their lips and found themselves with Derek stradling Stiles’s legs. Their pelvis’ clinging together like magnets as they deepened their kisses. Derek licked across Stiles’s bottom lip as he pushed his hips hard against the boy.

Stiles moaned and the wolf took advantage, agonizingly pushing his tongue into the other’s mouth. He searched the open space, exploring its crevices and swirling around against the opposing muscle. Stiles let small keening sounds move past their locked lips and met Derek's crotch with his own small rolls of his hips.

Derek let his hands grip Stiles’ shoulders and brush down his arms until he intertwined their fingers, bringing his arms up and over their heads.

Their bodies rubbing together caused both their shirts to ride up and Stiles whined at the lack of skin. He pulled back and tugged at the hem of Derek's black shirt, prompting him to remove the item.

Derek reached behind the brunette, gripping at the end of Stiles’s shirt and bringing it over his head. He then sat up tall after he tossed the garment on the floor, then stilled, taking the boy in for all of his worth. His fingers brushed his collarbone and made their way down, ghosting his skin. He let the pad of his thumb sweep over his nipple, causing Stiles to shudder at the contact, then down over each bump of his ribs that protruded through his flesh. Over the line that formed half of the infamous “V” on his hip and to the patch of hair below his belly button, leading down past the waistband of his chinos.

“God, you’re beautiful.” Stiles’ cheeks flushed pink at the compliment and he gulped, the bump in his throat shifting slightly as he swallowed. Derek leaned down and kissed it, leaving a trail of wet kisses around his neck, up under his jaw, and around the base of his skull until he reached behind his ear.

Stiles was absolutely blanched, his breaths thready and mouth dry.

“I need you, Stiles.” Derek’s words weren’t desperate or pathetic, but whole-hearted and demanding. A simple statement of truth.

Derek sat up again, causing Stiles’s hand that was resting on his shoulder to drag down his chest. Stiles kept it there, against the defined abs of Derek’s stomach.

Derek was waiting for any sort of response from the brunette, but Stiles was unbelievably silent in all manner of the word. Derek Hale had managed to leave Stiles Stilinski speechless. He searched the younger man’s face and found a hint of awe, making him smile.

In return, Stiles broke his lack of reaction with a toothy grin that was comically large, but utterly pure. Derek’s smile grew even wider and he let out a small chuckle, leaning in for another chaste kiss.

Derek couldn’t wait anymore, he had to have Stiles now. He hovered over him, tugging on his bottom lip with question and the brunette turned his head minimally, mimicking the uncertainty. Derek pulled away a bit more and curled his fingers into the top of the Stiles's pants.

Stiles’s eyes grew wide and he gave a weak nod. The ebony-haired man unbuttoned the pants and pulled them off, leaving behind the plaid boxers. The hardness beneath them was undeniably visible as the head of Stiles’s pink cock peeked out at the top.

Derek swung his leg over Stiles and got off the bed, the boy whining in protest at the absence of his weight on him. He pulled off his own pants and briefs, leaving himself on display for the brunette to ogle.

He was large and thick, his cock not entirely up despite its hardness. The weight of it caused him to hang slightly. Stiles’s breath hitched as he looked at the man before him.

Derek looked to be carved from stone, a masterpiece by Michelangelo himself. His eyes seared into the flesh as he examined him, the bits of his hair sticking up from where his own fingers ran through, thick brows that rested above his kaleidoscope eyes. Lips that were pink and soft as clouds, his tongue running across them with desire.

Stiles followed the line of his jaw, littered with scruff down his neck that was thick and strong, shoulders that too often bore the weight of the world and arms that showed muscle without flexing. He looked at his hands that were deftly underrated, strong rough hands that he didn’t see as weapons the way Derek did, but as gentle tools. He remembered how those very hands had been used to take care of his injury and take away the agony that came with it.

Stiles’s eyes drifted to the surprisingly boney hips next to where his hands were hanging. Lines shot downwards from his hips into his pelvis but were cut off by dark hairs on his crotch. The hair extended up and onto his stomach which was hard and toned. A red blush covered his face as he looked back down to his thick cock, now being pumped by those full hands. Derek’s head was pink and swollen, liquid leaking from the slit at the top. Stiles could feel his own precome pooling on his stomach from the tip that poked above his underwear.

Stiles swore he was close to coming just from the sight of the man alone. His mouth was a contrast of watering with desire and dry from astonishment. It matched the oxymoron of his body, now breaking out into a cold sweat. His jaw was slack and he took in a shaky breath. “Fuck.”

Stiles had imagined Derek before when he let his mind wander, he even had seen him shirtless countless times, leaving little to the imagination, but seeing him fully, and in this way, wanting Stiles, was like gazing upon him in a new light. It felt like he was seeing him for the first time.

“Don’t just fucking stand there,” Stiles threw up a noodle of an arm, and Derek wasted no time to climb back on top of him. He wiggled his way between the brunette’s legs, letting their cocks rest next to each other.

He went in for a kiss, this one more sloppy and heated than the others, different and less sensual. Derek involuntarily began to buck his hips down, rubbing his cock alongside Stiles’s, only the thin fabric of the boxers between them. Stiles let out a moan from the friction against Derek and resented the barrier between them. He wiggled his pelvis up and Derek hissed with the unexpected pleasure.

“Off,” was all Stiles could manage as his heart pounded in his chest, and Derek complied. He sat up, pulling the waistband down and bringing Stiles’ legs in front of him and straight up. He tossed the item and brought his legs back down slowly, but Stiles was impatient and sat up to meet his lips. He made his way onto Derek’s lap, straddling him.

Derek would roll his hips up into Stiles and keening sounds escaped with each brush. Their cocks caught between their stomachs and mixing the precome into their flesh. Stiles wrapped his legs around the wolf’s back as he was lowered back down. “Derek, please. I need you inside me.”

The beta reached over to the table next to the bed and opened the drawer. He pulled out a bottle of lube and spread it across his fingers. Stiles looked on in anticipation and couldn't help but to gnaw on his lips.

Derek traced the ring to Stiles’s entrance and the boy shuddered at the touch. The lube made Derek’s fingers cold at first, contrasted to the heat irradiated off Stiles’s body.

“You gotta talk to me, okay?” Stiles nodded at Derek’s words with his eyes closed, basking in the pleasures he was feeling. “No, talk.” Derek wasn’t demanding, but still adamant.

“Okay.” Stiles breathed out hard, his voice almost nonexistent. He realized Derek was waiting on him. “More.” He could hardly keep his eyes open, his head back and neck exposed as he wiggled beneath his lover.

Derek pushed in a single finger and Stiles let out a harsh breath that turned into a moan. The sensation was strange but felt amazing. When he adjusted, he looked up at Derek and let him know he was okay. The man slowly inserted a second digit, stretching Stiles out. Stiles’s cock twitched, a steady stream of clear liquid leaking from his slit and onto his belly. He bucked his hips, begging for movement, and Derek started to incite his fingers, pulling them out and pushing them back in.

As Stiles relaxed and loosened around him, Derek’s movements were faster and stronger, pulling elicit moans and whines from Stiles.

“Der-” Stiles couldn’t manage to say his whole name between his hitched cries of pleasure.

“What do you need? Talk to me, remember?” Derek kept the rhythm of his fingers, twisting and scissoring inside Stiles.

Stiles let out a grunt of frustration, unable to form words. He wasn’t sure why Derek kept wanting him to speak, but he’d comply as best he could. “You.” He let out another groan of satisfaction. “I need you.”

Derek halted his hand and tilted his head at the boy. He watched as Stiles let out a whine of protest and looked up at him pitifully. Derek offered him a small smile and leaned over the brunette to get more lube, placing a small kiss on his lips. Derek poured some in his hand and then applied it to his enlarged member, flinching at the sudden chill the liquid brought.

Stiles watched over his belly and through his legs in awe as Derek pumped his cock in his hand. Stiles found himself bringing a hand to his own dick and wrapping his fingers around it as he pleasured himself.

Derek looked up and noticed, pushing Stiles’ hand away. He leaned down, still stroking himself with one hand and enveloping Stiles in the other.

Derek made a long stripe from the base of Stiles’s cock to the swollen head with his tongue and took him into his mouth, tasting the salty-sweet precome. Stiles let out a loud gasp and tensed slightly from the surprise as he bucked his hips up into the back of Derek’s throat and wrung his fingers into the man’s black locks. Realizing how close he was to finishing, he stilled Derek’s bobbing head, “Wait. Derek, just wait.” His words were strained.

Derek stopped and let Stiles’s throbbing cock fall from his mouth with a pop and hit his stomach where the patch of hair was thick on his belly. He raised an eyebrow with concern that Stiles wasn’t happy. Sitting up, he separated himself from the mole-speckled man slightly, in fear he was changing his mind.

“No! No, come back. I just…” Stiles looked to the side and bit his lip. Derek couldn’t help but let out a needy noise at the sight. “I was close and didn’t want to finish in your mouth.” Stiles sat up and placed his hand at the back of Derek’s head, locking their eyes. “I want to finish with you inside me. I want to feel you fill me up, coming on your cock.”

A thundering growl escaped Derek’s lips as he crashed them onto Stiles’s, knocking them both back down into the bed. His wolf took hold, no longer buried beneath the surface. His eyes flashed blue as he pushed himself up to look at Stiles and the young man gawked in amazement. Stiles brushed Derek’s cheek with his thumb and worried his bottom lip, gazing deeply into Derek’s sapphire eyes.

They met in another deep kiss, inhaling the moans the other made as their cocks rubbed together between their stomachs, slick from the lube. Derek lifted his hips and reached down, refusing to break their liplock. He positioned himself against Stiles’s hole and felt him flinch at the touch. He looked down to make sure the position was right and looked back to Stiles for affirmation one last time.

Stiles nodded with begging eyes and Derek pressed into him with dragging speed. Stiles let his head fall back and his jaw went slack as he felt Derek’s head slip into him. It was a mix of pain and pleasure, something words couldn’t define. He felt himself fluttering around Derek, adjusting to the protrusion and relaxing as his body became attuned with it. He closed his mouth and looked back to Derek who had stilled and Stiles frowned, whimpering and in need of more than he was given. “Derek…” His voice was hoarse and crackly, barely making a sound.

Derek offered sympathy and responded by slowly sliding in deeper. He was met with some friction as he felt Stiles clench. “Relax,” he whispered as he leaned down and kissed Stiles easily with nothing less than love. That’s what this was. They weren’t fucking or hooking up, they were making love and it scared Derek shitless but that was the last thing on his mind as he looked down at the man lying before him, offering himself wholly and completely.

Stiles felt relief at the reassurance of his lover and relaxed as best he could, his heart beating rapidly against his chest. His mind and pulse were racing at inhuman speeds, relentless, but everything around him stilled. Derek’s lips stuck to his, making a small noise when they separated from one another. God he loved Derek, he loved him with every atom of his being and had for so long, even if he hadn’t known it.

Feeling Derek rolling his hips, his cock moving in and out at an agonizingly slow pace, it forced Stiles to close his eyes despite his desire to stay locked on Derek. The room was filled with his wanton moans and gasps met with Derek’s grunts and shallow whimpers. The sounds rang like music to Stiles’s ears, listening to his lover as he began to thrust at a more unrelenting pace.

“Oh fuck,” Stiles breathed and flew his lids open to see Derek’s wolf eyes beating down at him. They had both acquired a sheen of sweat, causing their chests to glisten in the light.

“Stiles,” Derek grunted, screwing up his features trying to hold back his release. His stamina was higher than this, but with Stiles it was different. He could look at the boy naked and come, his body begging and screaming for liberation.

The way Derek said his name told Stiles he was close. “Touch me,” he demanded frantically and Derek complied, reaching for Stiles throbbing dick, a constant stream of cloudy precome escaping his slit and pooling on his stomach.

Stroking Stiles’s cock was easy with the mix of sweat, precome, and lube that had accumulated between them. He kneaded the slit with the pad of his thumb then started to stroke again, Stiles’ breath hitching in his throat, something blocking his airway.

“God, Stiles. I- I love-” Derek faltered for a split second but managed to recover. “Fuck, you’re amazing.” He placed kisses along the man’s spotted jaw and whispered so softly that even a wolf would have trouble hearing. “Come for me.”

Stiles let out a bellowing cry and for the briefest of seconds, Stiles felt his stomach lurch—the feeling you get when you hover in the air right before you come down on a swing. In that moment, everything made sense and the whole world was crystal clear. He looked at Derek for what felt like hours and saw him shining like a star; his beacon of light that would always guide him home—Derek was home.

Stiles’s whole body shuddered violently as he came over Derek’s hand, his body tensing and tightening just before all his limbs went limp. Derek felt the brunette beneath him and around his cock, straining him and pulling his own orgasm with the pressure, having seen the man he loved come because of him. He could watch Stiles come over and over again.

Stiles’ face contorted in the most beautiful of ways, like an angel that wasn’t worthy of his gaze. He emptied himself into Stiles, coating him with his seed and a roar escaped his chest as he collapsed onto Stiles, panting and huffing in sync with the body under him.

They laid there for an unnamed measure of time, Derek now flaccid inside Stiles, both of them too exhausted to move or clean themselves up. After what felt like an eternity, Derek managed to regain some strength and got up to grab a wet cloth. He cleaned Stiles and then himself and after he proceeded to climb back into bed. He pulled Stiles into his side, holding him close and tight, never wanting to let him go again.

They dozed off effortlessly in each other's arms and under the covers, breathing in each other and living in that moment where the world outside the loft didn’t exist. Just two men deeply and madly in love and they didn’t need another damn thing, this was enough.

***

Derek felt hands on his face, a familiar and longed for touch. His eyes opened but his vision was dark and blurred. “S’iles?” He slurred and felt his head roll as the bathroom swirled around him. “S’you?”

“Derek!? Derek, what happened?” The panic was blatant in Stiles’s voice as he coerced Derek to wake. “DEREK!?” He tapped the man's cheek as Derek’s head started falling.

Derek shook his head and opened his eyes, flashing between their beta color and his natural blues and greens. He groaned and tried to sit up, but had no control over any part of his body.

“Derek...” Stiles searched the man as best he could for the source of the black blood under the fluorescent lights. He pulled up the shirt Derek was wearing and discovered the open and festering wound on his side. “Oh my God. Derek, oh my God. What happened? Shit. Shit shit shit shit.”

Stiles grabbed the hand towel from the wall, which he was certain was less than clean in a place like this, and used it to apply pressure with both hands. A cocktail of curses and prayers escaped Stiles’s lips as his eyes began to well. “Derek, I swear to God…”

Stiles grunted as Derek shifted and contorted his face in pain. That was better than seeing his limp body laying on the floor. “I swear to God if you fucking die I will kill you.”

Derek’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as he fell, laying on the ground. His body went rigid and began convulsing.

“FUCK.” Stiles threw the towel down and turned Derek onto his side as best he could. Stiles sat behind him, Derek’s back leaning against his chest as Stiles used his whole body to keep him in that position.

Tears streaked Stiles’s cheeks and he gritted his teeth, a bottomless terror tearing its way through his chest down into his stomach. He was beyond his depth and felt helpless. He needed to get Derek stable so he could piece together what was happening to him.

Stiles held onto Derek like the man would evaporate if he let go. Screwing his eyes shut he clung so hard his fingers were going numb and his knuckles turning whiter than bone. After finally finding Derek, he wasn’t about to lose him again; he couldn’t. If Derek died, he would die on the floor right next to him.

The seizure lasted less than a minute, but it felt like hours. After Derek finally stilled, Stiles let his head fall onto Derek’s shoulder and he could hear shallow breaths. He relaxed into the unconscious body on the floor and let out a choking sob. He sat there a minute, whimpering and soaked in the black blood that was seeping out of Derek.

Stiles couldn’t move, didn’t want to move, finding peace in Derek’s breathing. In...out. In...out. In...out.

***

“How’s your ankle?” Derek spoke softly as he let his fingers trace the side of Stiles’s arm. He was curled into the older man’s side, a smile on both their faces and eyes closed with contentment. Every once in a while, the brunette’s body would mildly shudder from the sensation of Derek’s touch, it wasn’t his fault he was ticklish.

“It’s fine.” Stiles hummed and nuzzled closer into Derek’s side.

“I don’t like that.”

Stiles sat up and looked down at his wolf with confusion. “Don’t like what?”

Derek pushed himself up onto his elbows and showed a sympathetic smile. “When you say ‘I’m fine’. You say it too often and I can always tell that you’re not.”

“Well, I am now. More than fine actually.” Stiles was starting to feel marginally defensive. “What about you? You say it too.”

“I do not,” Derek grumbled and laid his head back down, dismissing the discussion, but Stiles wasn’t finished.

“You do so! All the time actually.” Stiles sat straight up and picked up an accusatory tone.

Derek opened a single eye and glared at the boy who was now speaking with his hands.

“Hey Derek, how are you?” Stiles comically deepened his voice, “Fine.” Speaking normally again, “Yo, Derbear, how’s it hanging?” In a mocking timbre, “Fine.”

Derek was not appreciating the antics Stiles was executing.

“Oh my God, Derek! You’re bleeding from everywhere!” In his Derek voice, “I’m fine.”

Derek growled and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He got up and pulled on his briefs, then walked over to the couch to get some space.

“Oh! Real mature. So it’s okay for you to have a problem with something that I do, but the second I have an issue with you, you turn into a toddler.”

“I’m not a toddler.” Derek’s words were hard and gruff, spoken through gritted teeth. He crossed his arms over his chest and refused to look in Stiles’s direction.

Obviously, that wasn’t going to work, so Stiles leaned over the edge of the bed to find his boxers, then limped his way to sit on the table across from the grumpy wolf. “Really? Because it sure looks like you are to me.”

Derek looked at Stiles fleetingly and huffed in defiance.

“Seriously, why do you put these walls up around me? We just had the most...mind-blowing sex, and you opened up to me in ways I didn’t think possible, but you’re still doing this shit.” Stiles hesitated for a moment, pondering the idea of mentioning what he heard in the throes of it all, unsure if it was something that just slipped out or intentionally said. Shit, he didn’t even know if Derek knew he said it. “For fuck’s sake Derek, you told me you fucking love me! Why are you still keeping up these walls?”

Derek threw up a horrified stare like someone just told him he could never wear a black t-shirt again. Stiles drew into himself, feeling like he shrunk in size, immediately regretting everything that just came out of his mouth. “You need to leave.” Derek looked straight into Stiles’s eyes, bare of any emotion.

“Excuse me?” Stiles widened his eyes and watched Derek stand up and storm off to the other side of the room, his back facing him.

“I said go!” Derek shouted over his shoulder, standing there like an immovable object.

“No! Derek, no. I’m not go-”

“Jesus Christ, Stiles. Just give me some fucking peace!”

Stiles sat frozen, just blinking here and there, not entirely sure if any of this was real. For what was only a minute, in reality, felt like an eternity, but he refused to move and finally spoke up when he processed what the fuck was going on. He didn’t understand it, but he processed it nonetheless.

“Derek…” He heard a grunt from the man. “Please, just listen to me…” He heard no protests, so he continued. “I...I don’t know if you meant it, but…” Stiles paused when he thought he heard a diminutive whine. “...but I do. I get why you do this, I do, but I wish you didn’t keep building yourself up and breaking it all back down in this repetitive and arduous cycle. You show me things, tell me things, that I’m pretty confident you hide from everyone else, but then whenever I try to talk about them with you, you close off and shut down. What are you afraid of? I know you’re scared, I know you’re always scared. You think I don’t see you, but I do. After everything we’ve been through, all the shit we’ve faced...even after this!!”

Stiles took a deep breath and sighed in an attempt to relax and not shout again. That wasn’t his intention, he doesn’t want to make Derek any more defensive. “Even after this, you still can’t trust me.”

Stiles’s words hurt, and Derek wanted to tell him none of that was true, he did trust him, he trusted him with every atom of his being, but something in him, something deep in his gut made him still as stone. Stiles was right about one thing, he was scared, terrified to the point of petrification.

Everyone in his life has left him, whether it be by choice or circumstance, but they left him behind all the same. It became second nature for him to close off, shut people out. Why should he let someone in when they were just going to leave too? Everyone he ever loved or that meant something to him had gone, leaving him alone in this world, taking a piece of him with them when they walked away.

His father, who left him and his mother when he was too young to remember, just the stench of stale cigarettes and smoke. Paige, the first girl he ever loved. Kate, the first woman he loved. His mother, whose death he blames himself for. Cora, finding another pack in South America. Isaac, leaving him to join Scott’s pack. Peter, choosing power over family. So much pain in his memories, the belief he wasn’t good enough and no one wanted him.

“Fine, if you won’t talk to me, I’ll go, but just know…” Stiles felt moisture in his eyes and couldn't hold back the silent tears, burning. Trying not to whimper, he could only manage a whisper. “Just know that I love you. I don’t care about everything else, okay? I’ll never forget the day we met. It was like something clicked, but I didn’t know, not until the pool.”

Stiles didn’t need to elaborate, because Derek knew the exact moment he was talking about.

“I still hated you, oh yeah, but I loved you too. I hated who you were trying to be, the mask you wore, but I loved the man underneath. That’s all I want Derek, I want you.” Stiles pulled on his pants as best he could with his injury, slipped on his shoes and shirt, and headed for the large metal door. He slid it open and stopped to look at the man he so unashamedly was in love with who hadn’t moved a muscle, then regrettably left.

***

Derek woke to the sensation of a numbing pain throughout his body and loneliness in his stomach. Everything was too sore to move, even the strain of opening his eyes. The early morning light shined through his lids, so he raised an arm over his head and laid it on his face. His mind was slowly catching up and the heavy weight pulled down on his heart when he remembered imaging Stiles amid his delusional state.

Shifting in the bed, Derek became aware that the last time he was conscious, he was on the floor in the bathroom. Derek’s lids flew open and he managed to sit up minimally with his sudden rush of adrenaline. His eyes scanned the bright room, adjusting to the light, and found the familiar speckled face asleep in a chair in the corner. Stiles’s mouth was somewhat open and tiny snores escaped as his chest rose and fell.

Derek attempted to pull himself up in the bed and winced in agony, clutching his side. He leaned back against the headboard, gasping for breaths and closed his eyes to even his breathing. When the pain became manageable again, he opened his eyes to see the boy unmoved.

“Stiles,” Derek spoke softly as to not startle him, but he was unphased. He spoke his name again with more vigor and Stiles almost fell out of the chair with alarm.

“Huh!? What!? Who’s dead!?” Stiles rapidly blinked his eyes, adapting from the darkness to daylight, and pulled himself up in the chair.

“Stiles…” Derek wasn’t impressed with his antics. Maybe he would be if he wasn’t consumed by the torment of his wound, but it was difficult for him to focus on anything else.

Stiles saw the strain on Derek’s face and stood up quickly, racing to the bed and kneeling on the edge. “Derek? Are you okay? Shit. No. I know you’re not okay. What can I do? What happened?”

Stiles continued to spit out question after question until Derek interrupted by repeating his name for a fourth time.

“Oh god, I’m sorry.” Stiles shied with embarrassment, knowing the last thing Derek wanted to handle was Stiles’s slew of inquiries. “I’m going to check your side, okay?”

Derek only managed a barely audible grunt and small nod before Stiles began to lift up his shirt. Looking down, Derek realized he wasn’t covered in black blood, and clean clothes had been put on him. “Did you…”

Stiles was focused on the injury and looked up slightly dazed, “What?” His voice was soft and distant.

Derek nodded down towards his body.

Stiles shyly responded, “Oh. Uhm, yeah. It’s no big deal.” He shrugged and pulled Derek’s shirt back down, then got up from the bed. He went back to the chair, slumping down into it. “So what happened? It looks like a bullet wound.”

Derek couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea that Stiles managed to drag him from the bathroom into the bed, clean him, and change him. Speaking of which, he began to ponder the idea of how he even knew he was here and needed help in the first place.

“It is. How did you find me?” Derek’s throat was raw and dry, along with his lips. He licked them and longed for some water.

Stiles sat forward in his seat, “Doesn’t matter. How did you get shot? Was it laced with wolf’s bane? That could be why you’re not healing. And it explains all the black blood.” Stiles scrunched up his nose at the memory of almost having to cut off Derek’s arm. “I’m not going to have to amputate you from the sternum down, am I?”

Derek growled and rolled his eyes. The sound tore at his throat. “Water.”

“Oh!” Stiles jumped up and found a glass on the table and filled it at the sink. He noticed a bullet laying inside and picked it up. He mindlessly offered the cup to Derek as he inspected the piece of metal in his other hand.

“Stiles…”

“Hmm?” Stiles turned back to Derek and it occurred to him he needed help with the drink. “Oh. Yeah, shit. My bad.” He sat down next to Derek and helped him take some sips. Stiles placed the glass next to the bed on a side table and looked at the bullet again. “It doesn’t look like it’s laced.”

“Because it’s not. Wasn’t hunters.” Derek slouched some, lessening the pressure on his open wound.

Stiles stared at him quizzically, “What were you doing to get shot at by non-hunters? Who even-” Stiles’s eyes widened and he stood up forcefully, “COPS!? Were you being shot at by cops!?”

“No.” Derek was beginning to feel his body worsen and was having trouble keeping his eyes open.

“Who was it then?”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m dying anyway.”

Stiles shot daggers at Derek, “You’re not allowed to.”

Derek glared and shook his head, of course, Stiles would be the one to challenge death. He turned in bed, closing his eyes.

Stiles sat down hard on the bed and shook Derek until he opened his eyes and groaned. “Listen, asswolf, we’re gonna figure this out. You were pretty bad before. I didn’t…” Stiles looked down at his hands on Derek’s arm for a moment then raised his eyes back up. “Thing is, you got better, but you’re starting to get shitty again. If it gets as bad as before, I don’t think you’ll come back from that.”

Fear was evident in Stiles’s eyes and Derek wanted nothing more than to reach out and kiss him, tell him it was all going to be okay, but he couldn’t and it destroyed him. A surge of pain ran through Derek’s body and he tensed, letting out a seething breath through his teeth.

“Derek! Fuck!” Stiles reached out again, touching Derek’s arm, and his body instantly relaxed. “Oh my God…” The boy grabbed Derek’s shirt and pulled it up, almost off him completely.

Derek was confused and his lack of clarity and consciousness wasn’t helpful. “What…”

“Shh.” Stiles shushed him sternly and traced his fingers over the black veins from the wound and up Derek’s chest.

Derek shivered at the contact, warm fingers against his cold skin, fingers he felt before and a touch he had ingrained in his memory. Something in him pulsed--his heart, his mind, his blood--he didn’t know but it pushed him and for a fleeting moment he could breathe. Stiles’s fingers left his skin but the feeling of his touch lingered.

Stiles looked at Derek and his eyes appeared more wet than normal, “They’re almost to your heart.”

Derek pulled down his shirt, “I know.”

Stiles pursed his lips and furrowed his brow deep in thought. Derek examined him, scanning his face, every mole, freckle, and shape. He always loved the way his nose was slightly upturned, making it easier to kiss his soft pink lips. God, he desperately wanted to kiss him one last time before he died.

“Stop that!” Stiles lightly punched Derek’s arm but it was still enough to make him recoil in his vulnerable state. “I know that look and I hate it. You’ve given up. You’ve decided that this is it and you’re dying. I’m not turning my back on you this time!”

Tears begged to leave Derek’s eyes and he managed a sad smile. He had forgotten just how relentless Stiles was and how much he loved him for it, even admired it. He was right though, Derek was content with this ending, Stiles with him. Although it wasn’t how he thought he would die, it would be enough--Stiles was enough.

“I said stop it!” Stiles hit Derek again and served him a hard scowl.

“I’m sorry.” Derek closed his eyes in shame and let out a heavy sigh.

Inhaling deep with frustration, Stiles took Derek’s hand into his own. He knew those two words intimately, the same way Derek did. Derek wasn’t apologizing for what he did, but what he didn’t do, or what he felt was not enough.

Stiles took his free hand and brought it to Derek’s face, cupping his cheek and running his thumb under his eye, wiping away the tear before it had a chance to fall. “You still got me.”

Derek’s eyes opened and he tilted his head, gears turning in his mind.

Silence took over as they embraced one another with their glances until Stiles’s eyes widened and he knitted all the pieces together. “Scott!”

“What?” Derek was beyond confused now, certain he was hallucinating.

Hurdling a leg over Derek, Stiles straddled his calves and pushed the shirt up again. “Scott!” He shouted with excitement like it was the answer to all their problems. Engrossed by his own mind and thoughts, he was oblivious to the fact that Derek had no clue what he was referring to.

Shock took over Derek as he was being topped, “Scott?”

Touching the decaying flesh on Derek’s stomach, Stiles pressed gently and looked up to Derek’s eyes. “Yes, Scott. This happened to Scott. I know what’s wrong and I can fix it. Well...I can’t, but I know how. You have to fix it.”

Understanding Stiles was an art, and Derek had mastered it long ago, but it was doing him no good right now. His eyes searched for answers, yet found nothing but joy and hope in Stiles’s eyes. He didn’t comprehend it or know why he was so filled with optimism, but it was enough. “Tell me.”

Stiles settled onto his knees, wiggling into Derek unintentionally. Had this been any other time, Derek would have growled and flipped them over. “Okay. When the alpha pack attacked you and we thought you died, the second time,” Stiles squinted and realized they thought he died four times and was going to bring it back up later because that was unacceptable, “Scott blamed himself. He had been hurt too but he wasn’t healing and it kept getting worse. His blame and guilt prevented his ability to recover and did the opposite. He believed he deserved it, the pain and suffering.” Stiles tilted his head innocently and sighed.

Knowing Derek carried the weight of the world, there was an endless list of things that Derek felt unnecessary guilt for. He had found himself in a vicious self-deprecating cycle and it needed to end. “Why do you feel guilty?”

Derek shied away, hiding his conviction, but Stiles took his chin and turned him back to face him. Stiles wore a sad smile that begged for Derek to open up, he always wanted him to open up, but Derek had always been so frightened. That’s what fucked everything up in the first place. Looking deep into Stiles’s eyes, Derek replied, “You.”

Sitting up straight, Stiles donned confusion. “You feel guilty because of me?” Stiles seemed broken and distressed, leaning back subtly, “I...did I do something wrong?”

Derek sat up quickly, ignoring the surging pain and cupped Stiles’s face, “No! No, no, no. You didn’t do anything. It was me, it was my fault. I did this.” Derek searched Stiles’s eyes and tried to offer a sense of solace but he had nothing to give; at least nothing but the truth.

He pressed his forehead to Stiles’s and whispered, “I’m sorry. I didn’t want this. I was so terrified of you. You tangled yourself into me, I didn’t know how to handle that, so I ran. I wanted to tell you everything that day in the loft, I begged myself to, but I was paralyzed. My greatest regret was hurting you after we...and then letting you walk out that door. I didn’t want you to blame yourself or think you did anything wrong. I pushed you away, I made that choice for us. As soon as you left, I packed a bag and just drove as far as I could. I’ve been numbing myself ever since, searching for Kate and helping Chris, that’s how I got shot, one of Kate’s goons.”

Stiles pushed their foreheads apart and glowered at Derek, but kept quiet as to not interrupt.

Tracing his thumb across Stiles’s cheekbone, he continued, “Stiles, you were right. I was beyond afraid of you, of us. Everyone who has ever meant something to me left me alone and took a piece of me with them, I couldn’t open myself back up to that, I couldn’t lose you, so I left before you even had the chance.”

“I would never leave you.” Stiles waited for Derek to keep going, but he kept quiet. Stiles could see in Derek’s eyes that he wanted to believe his words, but couldn’t because of the ghosts in his past, haunting, and lingering. “Derek, I could never leave you. I looked, you know. I searched for you after you left, every day. You’re not easy to find.” Stiles let out a sad laugh. “When you called me last night, I didn’t know who it was, but I heard you say my name. I called out but you didn’t answer. I knew something was wrong, so I may have committed a few felonies by tracing your number. That’s how I found you. I’ll always find you.”

Derek licked his lips, feeling warmth return to them and the rest of his body. He leaned in and tilted his head until they were sharing the same breath. He wanted to kiss Stiles fervently but hesitated for an unknown reason. Something in the back of his mind still holding him back like an invisible chain. He told Stiles everything and knew what Stiles said was true, but he couldn’t feel it.

Stiles sensed Derek’s tentativeness and waited for him to close the gap. His heart was pounding against his ribs and his blood was boiling. He missed Derek desperately and finally found him, he was in his arms but knew he had to let Derek make the move. He laid everything out on the table and knew the only way Derek would start to heal was if he accepted the past and forgive himself.

Derek inhaled deeply and let it out slowly. The final link in the chain, holding him back had to be broken. He couldn’t hide behind his fear anymore because it was killing him, quite literally. He had no reason to keep it inside, and why would he want to. It was time to open up, so what if things didn’t turn out okay? Living a life paralyzed by all the “what if’s” was no way to live. He needed to let go of the past and look to the future, look to what was sitting right in front of him, who was sitting right in front of him.

Leaning in, Derek whispered against Stiles’s lips like a prayer, “I love you too.” That was the final piece, to say out loud what he felt so profoundly in his bones. Stiles had been his guiding light since the day they met. They always seemed to find their way back to each other, meeting in the middle and being what the other needed or was missing. Derek loved him so deeply and wholeheartedly that it was painful, but the pain that lets you know you’re alive. Stiles set a fire in his bones and sparks in his veins, reminding him that it’s okay to live, okay to feel, and okay to be human.

Derek kissed Stiles hard and deep, neither of them noticing the black lines on his arms receding. He wove his fingers into Stiles’s hair and gripped tight, trying to get closer to him, his breathing heavy and deep. He pulled back Stiles’s head and kissed down his neck and over his Adam’s apple down to his clavicle, sucking small purple marks along the way.

Stiles moaned and his open mouth gasped for a breath he couldn’t catch. Derek made his way back to his lips and pulled them down to the bed. Stiles slid his hands up Derek’s sides and across his stomach. He stopped abruptly and stilled, then sat up. Stiles pulled up Derek’s shirt and ran his hand across the place the wound used to reside. “It’s gone.” He looked up to Derek, beaming like the sun itself, “It worked!”

Derek laughed and Stiles grabbed Derek’s face, crashing into his lips. Derek couldn’t help but smile and chuckle between each kiss. Derek flipped them over and rolled his hips between Stiles’s legs, pulling a soft moan from him.

They fit perfectly together, like two halves of a whole. The way their lips slotted together, forming the perfect seal. Derek trailed his hand up Stiles’s arm above his head and slid his fingers into his, fitting together seamlessly.

Derek could lie here with Stiles forever, just kissing him, his lips, neck, collarbone, shoulders. The taste of him lingered on his tongue and it was a flavour he never wanted to wash out. He exhaled and fell into the crevice of Stiles’s neck, scenting him and nestling in.

Stiles ran his hands over Derek’s back, tracing patterns unknown to him and inhaling the scent of Derek. They laid there holding each other, consumed by their love and passion. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for them.

Derek rolled off of Stiles and curled in next to him, Stiles playing with Derek’s fingers as he put the other behind his head for support.

“Come back home.” It wasn’t a question or a demand, but a request. Stiles missed Derek and couldn’t imagine spending another minute without him.

Letting go of Stiles’s hand, Derek raised it to the boy’s face and pecked his lips, “You are my home.”

Forever Taglist: @stiles-o-dylan24

#sterek bingo 2020 #sterek #eternalsterek #eternal sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #stiles stilinski x derek hale #sbreconnection

192 notes · View notes

nad-zeta · 4 years

Text

Arthur Doyle: Battle of the Flirts

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Pairings: Arthur Doyle x reader (Fem Bi reader)

Genre: Slice o life

Warnings: Alcohol

Words: 1650

Comments: So this is my first ikevamp fic lol its probs ganna be shit cause you best know i didn't proof read before posting lol(˶◕‿◕˶✿) Thanx so much @zazax42 for giving me the suggestion/idea! Hope yall enjoy it!

｡.*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。’ .*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。’･ﾟ｡.*:・’ﾟ: ｡.*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。’ .*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ

The week seemed to drag on and on, and you were overloaded with chores. You had finally finished doing all the housework for the day, and to be honest you were absolutely exhausted.

It was a miracle that you still had enough energy left to drag yourself up the stairs. Once you made it to your room, you threw yourself onto your bed. Vic hopped up onto the bed and looked at you with his big brown eyes.

“You know you have caused me a the biggest headache today.” He gave a small whine as if to apologise for the trouble he had cause you, and you couldn't help but give the poor doggo a tired smile, there was no way you could stay mad at him, especially when he gave you such cute puppy dog eyes.

“It’s alright Vic you are forgiven, just don’t do it again.” He wagged his tail and licked your face and proceeded to dash out of the room, probably to cause some more mischief, no doubt.

You turned your head to look at you cupboard hanging open, you spotted the little black dress you had bought yourself a few weeks ago. Geez, how long has it been since you’ve been out with friends? Since arriving at the mansion it has been all work, thanks to a certain slave driving butler.

Your thoughts were interrupted, when the British writer entered your room. “You look positively exhausted love,” he looked down at you, with eyes filled to the brim with love and affection.

You were dramatically sprawled out across your bed. “And whose fault would that be, my dearest Arthur.”

Arthur gave you an apologetic smile as he flopped down on the bed beside you, “yes, well, I suppose I should apologise for Vic’s behaviour”.

You propped yourself up on your elbows and narrowed your eyes at your lover. “You do realise I spent the whole afternoon picking up shredded pieces of Mozart’s sheet music off the lawn, not even to mention the fact that someone had to talk some sense into the grumpy musician, as he was insisting on giving your precious dog away in your absence. Plus Sabastian had a field day with taking all his frustrations out on me, for what Vic had done.”

Arthur then sat up and kissed you on your temple, “thank you love, for defending Vic’s honour, and I am terribly sorry I wasn’t here to help clean up and listen to Mozart’s and Sabastion’s whining. Although you must admit, angry Sabs is quite the amusing sight,” Arthur said with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

You cracked a little smile, “well, I suppose I got to see that big vein pop out of his forehead, hehe and also it was pretty funny to see how red Mozart got in his anger. I wish you could have seen it! I didn't think anyone could go redder than poor old Isaac, but after seeing Mozart so angry, I think he could give apple boy a run for his money.” Arthur chuckled at the thought of the angry butler and pianist, “It sounds like both you and I deserve a stiff drink for, the troublesome day we both had.”

“More like two stiff drinks, for all the complaining I had to endure today,” you said with a bright smile as you gave Arthur a quick peck on the lips.

“Well, then hun, hows about we go to the bar for a drink or two, I’ll meet you at the main door in 30 minutes.” You smiled and quickly got dressed, you decided to wear that pretty black dress that has been hanging in your cupboard for weeks now.

After 30 minutes of changing and getting ready, you met Arthur by the front door. “Why, don’t you just look positively fetching, in that pretty black little number,” Arthur said while gently taking your hand in his and leading you out the entrance to the waiting carriage.

“Right back at ya,” you chuckled while doing your awkward finger guns.

The place was super lit, and it was amazing that you and Arthur managed to find two open seats at the bar. “Two whiskeys on the rock please.”

You and Arthur sipped on your drinks and enjoyed the light banter that flowed between the two of you. Just as you were making a witty comeback to one of Arthur’s flirty comment, the bartender placed a drink down in front of you, “From the woman in the pink dress,” he said with a wink and a smile.

“Ah I’m sorry about that Luv, it seems the women in his bar hasn’t received the news yet, that I am a taken man,” before Arthur could finish his comment the bartender corrected him, “Excuse me, sir, I think there has been a misunderstanding, this drink isn’t for you, it is actually meant for her,” he nodding in your direction with a smile.

You gave Arthur a bright smile, “ohoho, it’s for me, is it.”

You burst out in laughter and said in a mocking voice, “it seems the women in this bar hasn’t received the news yet, that I am a taken woman.”

Arthur took a big sip of his drink, trying to mask his embarrassment. You eyed him curiously and gave him the biggest brightest smile. For a big old flirt, he certainly was cute, especially the way his ears would go all red as he blushed.

He playfully put his hand over your mouth to muffle your laughing, “Okay okay, I get it, you’ve had your fun,” he gave you his signature smirk while still carrying remnants of the blush and embarrassment on his cheeks. You cradled Arthur’s cheeks in your hands, still wearing a big grin, “don’t be cross dear, you know I used to be quiet the flirt back in the day.”

Arthur’s eyes lit up in curiosity, “is that so.” You kissed the tip of his nose and let go of his face, “jip, no man or woman could resist my charm,” you said as you gave him a flirty wink.

“Well my luv, I can most definitely see that, because you certainly are, a-dor-a-ble,” he said while giving you a little boop on the nose. “I’m not cute, I’m sexy,” you huffed out with a slight pout.

“Of course you are sweetheart, you are most definitely the cutest fluffies woman in the whole world,” he said while patting your head and ruffling your hair.

“Oooh I’ll show you cute Arthur Doyle!” You then pulled your lover into a headlock, ruffling his hair the same way he had ruffled yours moments ago.

“Well then love, how’s about a friendly little wager”, you let go of him and narrowed your eyes, “I’m listening..”

“The one who can get the most women’s telephone numbers in the next hour wins,” Arthur said with the most playful glint in his eyes.

“What’s the catch?” you asked eyeing him suspiciously

Arthur smirked at you and continued to explain the rules. “Loser has to pick up after Vic for 2 whole weeks and has to be the winner’s personal slave for the day,”

You gave Arthur a challenging gaze and decided to raise the stakes slightly “Alright but, the loser also has to do the laundry for the next two weeks and has to change their name to Deez Nutz for the duration of the time.”

Arthur thought for a second and then nodded “Alright, time starts NOW”

The two of you scattered into your own directions and started working your magic on every woman in the bar, no woman was safe. It felt like mere seconds had passed, before the hour was up. You and Arthur regrouped at the bar and presented each other with the phone numbers that you managed to get.

“I’ll go first luv,” the two of you counted all the scrap pieces of papers and napkins together, “let’s see if you can beat 5, luv, you know there is no shame in backing out of the bet now, although I will take great pleasure in calling you Deez Nutz for the next two weeks,” Arthur said with a triumphant smile.

“No, no don’t worry about me old boy, I am quite confident I have this in the bag, I hope you like doing laundry.” You emptied out your purse and pockets of all the pieces of paper, you also showed Arthur’s your arms and hands as three women had written their phone numbers on them.

“I… I can’t believe this,” Arthur looked at the stack of phone numbers in disbelief. “I believe that is 15, I win”, you playfully patted and ruffled Arthur’s hair. “Looks like we know who the cute one is and who the true sexy one is after all. I do believe, I warned you that I was quite the ladies lady back in the day,” you said while bursting into laughter. “Plus nothing screams sexy like this sexy black dress”, you said while tracing your hand over the curves of your body. Your black dress was perfect, conservative enough not to show too much, yet body-hugging enough to show off your every curve.

Arthur simply hung his head in defeat. You couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him “Aww don’t be cross with me, love”, you gave him a little kiss on the cheek and gently took hold of one of his hands lacing your fingers with his “You know, even though I am a babe magnet, my heart will always belong to you, Deez Nutz,” you said while pushing your lips together trying to stifle a laugh.

Arthur simply groaned and buried his face in is hands. This was most definitely going to be the longest 2 weeks of his life

Turns out your horrible day want so horrible after all

｡.*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。’ .*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。’･ﾟ｡.*:・’ﾟ:

Lol hope yall enjoyed ✿◕ ‿ ◕✿

#ikemen vampire arthur #ikevamp arthur #ikemen arthur #ikemen arthur conan doyle #ikevam arthur #arthur x reader #ikevamp arthur fanfic

111 notes · View notes

crewhonk · 4 years

Text

Quarantine

Summary: Steeb is worried about his girl during the pandemic. we got a little angst! we got alot of fluff! goofy!domestic!steebie!!!

AN: This is bad!!! lol!

________________________

You’d never wanted to be a housewife. You’d always been driven and you’d always worked hard and even though you loved being home, it really wasn’t somewhere you had ever wanted to work.

And then the pandemic happened, and not only were the classes of your final university year been cancelled and put online, but you’s also been laid off from he two jobs you worked in between classes and studying and spending time with your boyfriend. You knew realistically, you didn’t need to worry about rent or anything— you boyfriend had enough money and generosity to sweep in and take care of you. Hell, he practically lived in your shoebox apartment in Manhattan anyways.

Didn’t mean that you were happy with the situation.

So, you spent your days cleaning, and watching Tiktoks and learning the dances, and once you’d learned them all, sat down and watched all of your comfort movies three times before deciding that your favourite hobby was putting your headphones in, sitting on your fire escape and staring.

Yeah, the house smelled like bleach and you weren’t doing well.

The days melded into one long continuous time period, only interrupted by going to bed once the pink of the sunrise shone over the buildings and when your boyfriend would come home once every few days. You understood— hell, he was one of the most iconic people in history, and despite retiring from combat, still had obligations to the public and to his team, the Avengers.

Steve Rogers was a grumpy hero of a man and you loved the hell out of him, and he you. However, you’d been distant lately, dealing with the changing world and the circumstances only exasperated by a government who didn’t lead and he understood that. The trauma you were dealing with was not unlike when he’d woken up from the ice. You and millions upon millions of people were being shut in and kept out of touch with each other and the world around you with the knowledge that you’d be let out of your home and released into a completely different world— one which you didn’t know how to live.

He saw the sag in your shoulders and how your eyes were unfocussed and how the corners of your lips were almost always turned down save for the few days where you could put on makeup and brush your hair and maybe even put on jeans to feel something. You’d made loaves and loaves of bread that he would bring to the compound and have to explain that he had a friend who had just made too much and left them on his doorstep. You had yet to tell the team— his whole life was exposed to them constantly, and save for his three best friends, nobody knew about the grumpy, domestic soft couple that was Steve Rogers and YN YLN. Bucky, Sam and Natasha would make frequent stops and while it took a while for them to accept you, they eventually did (once they realized that you refused to let Steve pay for anything or post anything about him).

So, he walked down the hall and fiddled with the keys in his hand nervously— not knowing which mood he’d have to be dealing with today but willing to give you any form of comfort you needed today. Being immune to the virus was a blessing, he knew— he could still work and the compound had been locked down since late February, all staff who wished to stay did, and those who did not, returned to their homes with the promise of a job waiting for them when things finished.

He twisted the key into the apartment of your door and was met with the sweet and sharp smell of lemon clorox. You’d been cleaning, obviously. Every surface was sterile— free of dust and any other blemishes. The floors were swept and mopped, and the windows were open, letting in the sounds of New York flow through the place he’d begun to call home. Walking into the kitchenette, he noticed that your sourdough starter had been moved, and that there was even a few new jars of pickles, onions and asparagus being fermented or pickled or whatever the new Quarantine Trend was.

“Princess?” He called, placing his keys on the counter and pulling off his jacket to throw over the back of the chairs pushed into the small kitchen table you two never ate at. Instead, he cocked his head at the thousand piece puzzle you both worked on when you had the patience, picking up a piece, squinting and placing it in its spot. He hunched over the table, not willing to commit and sit down, but stared at the picture hard, fingering through the pieces int he box and sighing though his nose.

“Fucking cats.” He cursed, frowning when he couldn’t find a spot to put the piece in between his fingers. You’d both done all the easy parts, and now it was trying to discern the blurry spots in the background and the melding of colours on the kittens tummy.

He jumped slightly when he felt your hands on his hips, wrapping around his torso and curling up over his chest, resting over his stuttering heart.

“Hi, Sweetheart.” He crooned, dropping the items in his hands and turning in your arms. He pulled you tight to his chest and rested his cheek on your wet, fresh smelling hair. Your t-shirt and leggings were slightly damp, you having just thrown on anything in a rush to see your guy.

“Hey, Stevie.” You mumbled into his shoulder and he nudged you until you lifted your head. When you did, his eyes roved your moisturized skin and the appearing freckles you were getting over your face from you time on the fire escape and in the sun. It was colder today, and he pulled you closer when you shivered at a particularly cold breeze that made the light curtains flap into your living room.

“You look fresh today. How’re you?” He asked, dipping his head and pressing his forehead to yours, noses brushing against each other. It was moments like these that he loved more than most. He could feel you shrug in his arms.

“You know.” You said offhandedly. “Life.” You’d long passed the point of explaining your feelings about everything to him— not wanting to rehash the same feelings of anger and fear and grief over and over again. He nodded and tilted his chin, pressing his soft lips against your own and sighing. His hand caressed your cheek and his thumb wiped your cheekbone as he kissed you slowly. The warmth that filled you at his tender touches was not unlike sun-warmed honey, filling every corner of your body. He pulled away too soon, and you chased his lips with your own, giving him one last slow kiss before wrapping your arms around the back of his neck and brushing the hair from out of his eyes. Sure, he may be an avenger, but not one single person in that building knew how to cut hair.

Not that you were complaining.

“I know.” He whispered, wishing with every fibre of his being that he could do just one thing that would ease the weight off of your shoulders.

“How was work?” You asked, pulling away to push the jars and bottles back against the wall of the counter, opening some lids before fastening them once more, not wanting any of the mason glasses to explode. He didn’t miss the way you would avoid his eyes when he talked about the outside world, or the monotonous tone you used when you asked the question.

“It was alright. Clint’s gone out to the country side to wait everything out with Laura and the kids. Tony’s gone too.” He said, opening the fridge to pull out the orange juice. “So all that’s left of the team is me, Nat, Sammy, Buck and Wanda. Also Peter brought this aunt to the compound, he wanted to get her out of the city and away from everything.” He hashed out and raised the carton to his lips, managing only two gulps before you slapped his arm and shoved a glass in his face.

“You’re an animal.” You joked half heartedly and he snorted, taking the glass. “So, May is living at the compound?” You asked, discreetly moving to the freezer and digging around for what you would want for supper.

“She is.” Steve confirmed, cocking his head and watching you nod your head.

“And Tony let her?”

“Well, she’s doing the two weeks of quarantine in her room which is on the opposite side of the guest floor. She basically has the whole floor to herself though.” He shrugged, lifting his chin and watching you react, just as the pieces were starting to click.

You hummed.

“You’d stay with me though.” He said over the lips of the glass in his hand. Your eyes shot to him and a blush dusted your cheeks slightly at being caught.

“Pardon?”

“I still have a room there, and I share my floor with Buck. Who is also immune to the virus, so you wouldn’t be stuck in the bedroom. You’d have a small gym, and a few balconies and a kitchen probably three times this size.” He said, nonchalantly. A smirk slowly spread across his face as he watched you look up at him from through your lashes before shaking your head and pushing him to the side so you could get some canned veggies from the pantry.

“You’d also have fresh food. That you wouldn’t have to go out and buy. You wouldn’t have to worry about running out of pasta, or canned food. You wouldn’t have to be in survival mode.” He crooned, coming up behind you and moving your hair to the side so he could pepper kisses over your shoulder and neck.

“We even have hand sanitizer and toilet paper.” He joked and you finally cracked, throwing your head back and laughing. You turned around and squeaked slightly when he picked you up and sat you on the counter. He shoved your legs open and wiggled his way in, resting his large hands against your hips.

“YN?” He ducked his head so you’d look at him. When you did, he offered you a small smile. “Wanna move in with me?” He whispered and you turned red. Sure, he’s been staying at your apartment a few nights a week, and sure, you’d been dating for a year, but because you were you, you’d always had a little twinge of doubt in your mind about whether or not he was being serious. Hell, you hadn’t even met everyone in his life yet- you’d never stepped foot in the compound for heavens sake.

“I don’t wanna be a bug, though.” You mumbled and he huffed before holding your face in his hands.

“You could never.” He affirmed, kissing your nose quickly and staring you down. “Buck loves you, and Nat adores you and Sam wants to be your best friend. You’re alone in this small ass apartment and I can’t help but worry about you. At least I have my people. You just got me and FaceTime with your family and my love, that’s not enough. I know it’s driving you insane.” He whispered and wiped the tears that welled in your eyes quickly.

“I don’t want to be in your way, or somehow make you associate me with work and then fall out of love with me and I know it’s stupid you don’t have to look at me like that. Plus, they’re starting to lift restrictions so—“

“You and I both know things are going to get worse before they get better.” He scorned and he tilted your face to look up at him. He pressed closer to you and you looped your fingers though the loops of his belt. He gave you a quick, open mouthed kiss before pouting his bottom lip.

“Please move in with me. I want you there. I want you out of the city and in my king sized bed and making a mess out of my balcony with your plants and gardens and I want to have movie nights with you and Buck and I want your stupid little Fermentation Station taking up Hal my counter. Please, baby girl. Come home with me.” He pouted, giving you his full puppy-dog eyes. You groaned, thumping your head against his hard shoulder.

“A king sized bed would be way better than that double bed.”

“The sheets are made out of such thin silk hey don’t even have a thread count.” He murmured and you groaned.

“I bet the pillows are those temperature regulating ones.” You hummed and he nodded, biting his lip.

“Fluffiest things you’ll ever rest your head on.” He kissed your neck and you giggled. “Wait until you see how thin the TV is.” He joked, and you played along, moaning.

“You don’t even watch TV on your laptop?” You gasped breathily. He nodded, biting his lip and your hand curled in the hair loosely at the base of his neck.

“How big?” You whispered and he leaned in, brushing his lips over yours as he spoke.

“82 inches. Surround sound.” He whispered, leaning down to pepper kisses over your throat.

“Oh, Lord take me now.” You yelled, throwing your hands into the air, making him laugh. He smiled down at you— you with new, bright eyes and an easy smile on your face from he idea of getting out of this small apartment and into Steve’s home.

“Seriously, come home with me. I can get a van and some people to get your things tomorrow if you want to pack a bag tonight.” He asked, his expression turning slightly nervous at your silence.

“I can pay for groceries—“

“I don’t even know where they come from. One day the fridge is empty the next day it’s full. I don’t pay for it and neither does Bucky.” He shrugged. “Seriously. Come on. I’m sure Bruce or Tony even have a job you could do if you get too bored.”

You perked up at the idea of working again and he rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t make it in the 40’d you know.” He joked. “You work too hard.”

“Bite me, Rogers!” You pushed him away from you, jumping off the counter and leaving the kitchen.

“Don’t tempt me!” He shouted back and you laughed, walking across the room to where you’d planted your dresser. You grabbed a bag from under your bed (which was also in the living room) and began throwing clothes into it.

“You can bite me all you want when I’m stuck in your room for two weeks.” You joked, throwing a wink over your shoulder and making him groan under his breath. The idea fo you in his silk sheets, marked up and nowhere to go was a very welcome image he was almost 100% promised.

“You’re a minx.”

“And I’m your new roommate too!” You chirped and Steve, for once, welcomed the blush that crept up his neck and onto his face. Maybe, there was a silver lining to all this COVID bullshit.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst #steve rogers imagine

96 notes · View notes

heartwoodventures · 3 years

Photo

Heartwood Hatchingtide!

A mysterious note had been posted on the company’s bulletin board, beckoning members to meet at Mih Khetto’s Amphitheatre for a Hatchingtide celebration! But beyond explaining that the event was to ‘help the youth,’ details were scarce. Who’s organizing this? And what activities will happen? You’ll have to go to the amphitheatre to find out.

And the place is absolutely decked out in egg-related decorations! But most prominent is the large and ‘in charge’ chicken, dancing mad on the road leading to the center. They wave at you two, and then continue to jig.

Intrigued by the odd note, Aislinn made the time to wander her way over to the amphitheatre. Whatever was going on, her curiosity got the better of her and she needed to find out.

Cravendy What is an egg’s least favorite day of the week? Fryday! Happy....friday! xD )) Cravendy I inflict pain unto myself everytime I make a pun ))

Riylli shuffled her way through the city, keeping her head down and trying not to attract attention as she made her way to the Ampitheatre. Whatever dour mood she was in would be briefly erased however as soon as she took in the dancing chicken that appeared to be waiting for her. "Er... Cravs..? Is that you..?"

"Twelve save us." Aislinn said, shaking her head as a smile worked its way across her lips. She paused a few seconds more to watch the chicken in its maddening jig, a laugh bubbling up from her throat. "You know, I'd bet gil on it."

Riylli (I love the way our heads move watching her dance Riylli (getting in on the beat Aislinn ((We're mesmerized))

Aislinn - She waves to the chicken. "So what's all this about helping out at Hatchingtide?"

“Cravs? Who’s that?” The chicken momentarily stops dancing and, somewhere in the distance, a kid groans in disappointment. Seeing that, the chicken slumps, but begins to groove once more. “I...I am none other. Huff. Than. Chickendy Hound! And it was I that called you out today on a mission...most. Huff. Important.”

Aislinn's smile widens. "Sounds like you've been dancing there quite awhile, Chickendy Hound." she noted in amusement as she plays along.

Riylli staaaaaaaaaaaared, bewilderment on her face as she tried to wrap her head around exactly what was happening here. That was definitely Cravs. Even without the giveaway of the name, the only other one in the company that tall was Rising, who Riylli was particularly sure would not be able to dance like the chicken was after the previous night. "Er... And what's that then?"

“Ay shite, I’ve been dancin’ for bloody who knows ‘ow long...” Cravs grumbles, and at that very moment a mother and child strolls on by. Cravs stiffens and clears her throat. “I mean. I can dance all day and all night! But now, the egg advocates would have us take care of another chore-I mean, thing of utmost importance. And that...is collecting eggs!”

Riylli pauses her judgmental staring to instead watch the mother and child pass, seemingly getting distracted for a moment before turning back to the chicken and letting out a sigh. "...Right. We gettin' paid for this or what?" She asks coldly, apparently back to whatever bad mood she had been in before meeting Chickendy

In contrast to Riylli's foul (fowl) mood, Aislinn seems to be enjoying this all too much. She makes a poor attempt to hold back any more laughter and nods to the passing mother and child. She couldn't begin to imagine how hot a suit like that must get. "Aye, of course. Harsh task masters, these egg advocates."

“No good deed goes unpaid! Which is to say, no, we’re not gettin’ bloody paid for this. I asked.” Cravs crosses her arms and I swear, you could see her chicken hat’s eyes furrow in grumpy anger. “Though they said we can keep any extra eggs, which ye can probably sell if yer strapped for cash.”

"....ye -do- get a free chicken suit though. That count for anythin'?"

"How, exactly, did they talk you into this, then?" Aislinn wryly asks.

Aislinn leans forward a bit and lowers her voice. "Did you lose a bet?"

Riylli let out another long sigh. "I hate this damned city so much..." She mutters, pinching the bridge of her nose as she seriously considered just turning around right then and there

"Ch-chickendy needs no reason to spread cheer in the world!" It's unclear if that's the whole truth, half, or not at all.

Riylli shot Cravs a glare, "Oy Chickendy, you better give me a better reason than that. How'd the scary pirate lady that can't even apologize end up in a situation like this?"

That earns a doubtful, though amused noise from Aislinn. "Yeah, if Chickendy is anything like Cravendy I'm not sure that math works out." Nevertheless, she shrugs a shoulder. She needed a break from building the prototypes at any rate, it was why she wandered out in the first place. "Alright then, I'm in for a bit of egg collecting." paused. "Chicken eggs, right?" she asked, deciding she better double check.

“HEY. I’m not so cold that I’d refuse to do some good in the world! That, and I didn’t say no right away. These folk sense weakness and twist yer arm until...” Cravs hears something approach from behind and freezes up.

Aislinn ((I'm going to hear this song in my sleep)) Riylli ( PA PAYA Cravendy pa paya! :D ))

An egg advocate comes over, peppiness turned dangerously past the dial. They drop a box containing chicken costumes in front of Riylli and Lin and - did they wink somehow? “You must be joining our friend here in setting up! A thousand thanks for choosing to spend your time spreading the festivities!”

Riylli shot the newcomer a glare so powerful that it could probably be tried as physical assault. "You have to be joking. You want me to wear that shite too?"

Aislinn eyes the chicken suit that was so unceremoniously dropped in front of her. "Wait...you were serious about the costume?" she looked the egg advocate over. The maniacal exuberance and zippered up smile a touch zealous. "Why the suits? We're collecting eggs, right?"

Aislinn ((It's all fun and games until you get stuffed in a chicken suit))

“Of course! The kids -love- it, and it’s said that wearing this’ll help you collect the eggyest of eggs! Chicken eggs!” The advocate unpacks the box’s contents, finds a suit fitting Riylli’s size, and thrusts it upon her without a moment’s hesitation. This person is awfully pushy, with all the strength of a traveling salesman who's got their foot in the door. “Now now, no fussing and get cracking!”

Cravendy laughs weakly.

Aislinn suddenly finds her arms weighed down in a similar fashion. She narrows her eyes slightly over the bulky armload, very likely imagining an unseemingly kind of violence that would wipe the peppiness right out of the pushy advocate. But then she cuts a glance to the still dancing Cravendy and merely sighs. The Seawolf was definitely in dire straits. "Fine. But we bring you back eggs that are eggier than other eggs and then ALL three of us are off the hook."

Riylli is forced to accept the chicken suit into her hands, blinking as her stare went from it, to Cravs, to the advocate. She wondered if it would be possible to evade capture from this deep inside the city if she were to commit some sort of crime right about now. Her attentions thankfully turn back to Cravendy. "The next time we go out drinking, you're paying for every round I feel like havin'" Riylli stated her demands, figuring it would be in everyone's best interest to ignore the advocate

The advocate squeals with glee and points to the west. There, you’ll find the chicken coops, the eggs, the hens! Best of luck! And as the three of them make their way over, the moment Cravs is a safe distance away from the advocate she slumps over. “Thank ye both...that person is frighteningly stubborn. Ye don’t want to know.”

Riylli lets out an absolutely exhausted sigh. "Figured you wouldn't be doin' this if you weren't in some sorta trouble... One day we're gonna have to teach you how to talk to people though." She muttered as she shoved the mask on over her head.

Aislinn stares at the retreating advocate's back, noting how a squeal was not a verbal agreement. A point that might have to be dealt with later. For now, she turns to Cravendy and shrugs. "Sometimes I think our contracts are easier to deal with." she added.

Cravendy nods in agreement with Lin. Clear cut rules, payment! But in the world of volunteering and do-goodery, there was a wide spectrum of folk to tussle with. She looks over to Riylli and snorts. “Looks weird with just the ‘ead.”

Riylli began idly fiddling around underneath her mask as she tried to get it to fit properly. "Course these things don't fit my damn ears... Nice to know nothings changed around here." She muttered angrily, definitely feeling very spiteful today. "EVERY. ROUND." Riylli reminded Cravs, then finally began to put on her suit, grumbling all the while

Aislinn - As they made their way to this special hen house, Aislinn struggled into the ridiculous chicken costume. "Know what this is? This is Nymeia's jest in return for me laughing earlier." she shook her head, her small frame almost swallowed up by the bulk of the costume. Looking down at herself, she laughed. "What is my life right now?" she pondered aloud.

Cravendy ALRIGHT so since the fates up, lets hop to it xD )) Cravendy whoever gets the most eggs...wins! )) Riylli (BAH, I SUCK AT THIS FATE THO Cravendy SAME LOL )) Aislinn Also same)) Cravendy GDI )) Riylli ( KNOCK ME TO VICTORY Cravendy these chickens have NO EGGCUSE being this rude )) Riylli (GAH Aislinn ((They're very eggcitable)) Cravendy at some point you get knocked around to much )) Cravendy you accept heavy as a way of life )) Riylli (using the aoe to dash me to other eggs Riylli (this is pro gaming Cravendy make sure to turn in your eggs! )) Riylli 16 Cravendy AGHF I keep interrupting myself xD )) Cravendy 12! LOL )) Aislinn ((9!)) Cravendy damn pro gamer over here ahah )) Riylli (Riylli shall win every hunt in this fc Riylli Y E S Cravendy EGG )) Cravendy OMG )) Cravendy thats cannibalism! xD )) Riylli (victory tastes so good Cravendy tho my parents own chickens and they egg their own eggs all the time lol )) Aislinn ((Are you eating them ALL? Cool Hand Luke over here)) Riylli eggsecution Cravendy STOP you'll overdose on them! )) Riylli (I aint doing it again you cant make me Aislinn ((EGGsplosion))

Cravendy limps away from the henhouse. Truly, these birds were in a fowl mood! But she’s managed to collect a dozen and that’s something, right?

Riylli finishes her hunt with sixteen total eggs in her basket, the ultimate hunter in both speed and grace. Of course, she may have thrown some chickens around and caused some children to cry, but victory is all that mattered in the end. If she had to be a chicken, she would be the GREATEST CHICKEN

Aislinn hurriedly clambers over the fence, a basket half-full of eggs and the sound of muffled curses coming from under her mask. "Those birds are not normal. I see why we need the damned suits now. They're protection."

Cravendy - “Never thought I’d be tossed around by a...by a chicken?!” Putting it into words doesn’t help at all. She peers over to Riylli’s haul. “‘ow’d ye manage to get so many?”

Cravendy LOL at any cost, Riylli will be the ultimate chicken xD )) Riylli (Shoving children over and stealing their eggs

Riylli puffed up her chest, somehow managing to look proud even inside such a ridiculous outfit. "When will you learn... Keepers are the greatest hunters there are! Doesn't matter if it's beast or bugs or... or eggs..." Her confidence wavered a bit at the end there, but she wasn't about to give up this opportunity to gloat

Aislinn pulls her mask off with a huff and pushes back the hair plastered to her brow. She quietly counts up the eggs between the three of them. "This better be enough to buy your freedom from this cult, Cravendy."

Cravendy “Smaller target is all. Chickens were too busy chasin’ me around.” Cravs smirks beneath her hat.

Riylli pulled her chicken hood off, freeing her ears from their confines and giving them a tentative flick. Despite herself, she was wearing a large grin that let Cravendy know this was not the last time she would hear of this. "Sure, sure, whatever you say."

“I ‘ope so too, Lin.” Cravs sighs, thinking back to how chicken-garbed strangers would pop out at the strangest of times, incessantly asking about when she was going to finally help out. But when she sees the smiles on everyone’s faces, a part of her gives. It’s not all to keep nosy birds off her back. “...OY WAIT. Cravs? It’s Chickendy!”

Aislinn starts peeling off the hen-pecked suit and shoots the Seawolf a wry smile. "Aye, aye. Chickendy. My mistake." she paused, struggling to fold the suit over one arm while holding her basket in the other. "Should we get these over to the amphitheatre so they can be...decorated or painted. Whatever they do to them next."

Cravendy sulks. She knows that tone. Call her crazy, but a small part of her had held onto hope that somehow the two of them hadn’t made the connection. “Ay, let's get this over with.”

Riylli glanced down at the mask in her hands and thought for a moment, before suddenly deciding to put it back on. "Think Ill keep this on 'till were out of the city... Personally I hope Chickendy sticks around though. She can dance for us next time we go out on a mission, keep our morale high." She teases

Aislinn slides a glance Riylli's way. "Might come in handy if we ever face down another mob of avians."

Cravendy nearly chokes at the thought of dancing to raise morale. But she fumes in silence.

As you approach the amphitheatre once more, the sounds of children laughing fill the air. All around you, families and friends excitedly partake in egg-related activities. The advocate happily accepts the party’s baskets, and then hands each of them a delicately painted egg. “You all did so good! Here, as a reward!”

Riylli silently accepted the egg, paused for a moment, then immediately dropped it. "Woops." She muttered, sarcasm absolutely dripping off her tone. It seemed now that the thrill of victory had faded, Riylli was back to her previously grumpy self. "So sorry, hard to get a good grip in this costume. You understand I'm sure."

Aislinn nods in thanks as she carefully takes the egg. She smiles in her quiet way as she runs a finger along its surface, appreciating the detail. After a moment, she looks back up at the advocate. "Those are quite some chickens you've got there. The suits did actually come in handy."

Cravendy takes the egg and pockets it. Somehow.

“No worries! Have another!” The advocate presents another gift to Riylli. A chocolate egg. They then turn to Lin, sunshine exuding from behind their feathered maw. “The finest hens in Eorzea! And they lay the tastiest eggs too!”

Riylli accepts the gift, and then drops the gift. "Woops." She said again, practically challenging the advocate to give her another. Pettiness was her specialty, and she could do this all day.

The henny-helper hums in thought, and then raises a finger as a lightbulb lights up above their head. They take out a sticker and plaster it on the center of Riylli’s chicken hat. Bock bock!

“I’m free now, right? I am, right?” Cravs asks, and the Hatchingtide worker nods. Cravs stumbles back in relief, and then looks to Lin and Riylli. “Thanks...er, strangers. Well, I must be off. To somewhere.”

Aislinn sighs softly. "Nymeia's breath." she says, barely audible. This way lay trouble, she could sense it. "Right, then. Ah...thank you, I suppose." It seemed the polite thing to say. "And...good luck with the rest of your Hatchingtide. We'll just be heading out now."

Aislinn begins back away slowly

Riylli stared, trying and ultimately failing to figure out a way to counter this attack as well. Giving up, she turned to Cravs. "See you later Chickendy, try not to make eye contact with any strangers on your way out." She said, offering her a wave. She followed close to Aislinn as she backed away, sighing heavily. "Lets go back to the house and burn this shite..."

Although they had been strongarmed into helping out, the three of them did good in spreading festive cheer in Gridania. But perhaps they would stay far away from any chicken-suited fellows in the future....just in case.

Aislinn - "Might come in handy though somewhere down the line." she says with such a straight face, it's unclear as to whether she's joking or not.

#ffxiv rp #balmung rp #ffxiv crystal rp #Heartwood Ventures #Cravendy Hound #Aislinn North #Riylli Aliapoh #Happy hatchingtide!

3 notes · View notes