#this + my shitty memory makes me go through plenty of awkward situations but oh welp x'D

[abel-draws]

My brain processes info v e r y slowly

[dontcallmecarrie]

Downward Descending

the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and every villain is the hero of his own story. 

Justin Hammer didn’t consider himself a good man. 

Kind? Yes. But not good.

aka thanks, commenter, I blame the plot twist my brain came up with on you because I had zero inspiration for this AU up until I saw your comment

probably won’t make sense if you didn’t read part one to this mess and heads up, the protagonist becomes a villain here. Under the cut because it ran away on me, again.

.

Above all things, Justin Hammer was a realist. 

Kind of hard not to be, considering; between their [fading] memories of another world, and the life they’d been stuck with this round as the heir of Hammer Industries, they’d never really had a chance to get their head in the clouds.

Other people could dream of a better future, and he really did wish them all the best— but in the meantime, he had work to do.

.

Justin didn’t understand these people. 

Sometimes, he wondered if he ever would.

.

Justin didn’t think much of his family: oh, sure, they were loaded, but...well, for obvious reasons, he didn’t think very highly of some— okay, most— of their parenting choices.

Look, some people just aren’t meant to be parents, okay? But at least they try and give a damn.

These guys didn’t even bother.

Not when their heir turned out to be a normal kid instead of a once-in-a-generation child prodigy and genius [no hard feelings, though, Stark]. 

Eh. Whatever. 

Might’ve been for the best, actually; at least it was him and not some other poor kid who got stuck with dealing with all the crushing expectations and comparisons to a frankly impossible ideal, and at least they didn’t try to pull any of that shit with his little sister because if they had then...he wasn’t sure what he would’ve done, but it would not have been pretty.

[they were an older sibling twice over. some things were etched into their soul.]

.

It wasn’t like Justin had set out to quasi-adopt just about everyone remotely his age, okay? It just sort of...happened. 

Okay, look, it’s not his fault everyone his generation looks like a kid to him, they’re all brats and for some reason, all their parents came in different flavors of shitty because their IQs were sky-high but their collective emotional intelligence wouldn’t have filled a teaspoon so looks like it was up to him to step up.

Look, it made perfect sense at the time!

.

Sometimes, it’s funny how Justin is the most mature person in the room. Other times, it’s just pathetic.

Especially when it’s two grown men half a second from duking it out while in public, like they weren’t supposed to be setting an example for their kids.

Justin couldn’t help his dark look at the spectacle, even as he ushered Stark and Pym to the buffet tables on the other side of the room, all the while trying to keep the conversation light. He didn’t really have the time for hobbies, not with all the private tutors his parents kept foisting on him, but it was still nice to hear what other people his age got up to. 

...unless said kid was Stark, in which case they all got regaled with an overenthusiastic spiel on something that went way over Justin’s head but hey, he’d had plenty of practice nodding along to Steph’s chatter so this was nothing.

.

Looking back, it’s kind of sad how something as simple as giving half a damn was enough for Stark to consider them lifelong friends.

Even sadder, because Justin hadn’t even realized it at the time; he’s just been his usual self.

But apparently, that was enough for some people, was significant enough to be remembered even decades later— long after Justin himself had forgotten all about the encounter.

.

There weren’t a lot of things Justin put actual effort in. 

Emotionally, that is; he was not afraid from hard work, never had been, but there was a world of difference between brushing up on engineering terms and being there for someone. 

Not like his mother, who’d apparently thought giving birth to him and his sister was enough involvement in his life, and proceeded to spend all her time in the Bahamas whenever she had the chance. Not for his father, who constantly tried to make him into something he was not, and finding him wanting [when he wasn’t being a sexist piece of shit who regularly cheated on his wife, anyway, but that was a whole other mess entirely].

But maybe that’s why he tried to be kind, why he tried to be there for the people around him.

...oh, and apparently he’d been known for giving good advice in boarding school to anyone who asked. Which was weird, but whatever. At least he’d helped?

.

Justin tried to be a good older sibling. Really, he did, trying to be as supportive as he could be of Steph as he could.

Sometimes, though, that landed him in some...interesting situations.

Such as her infamous ‘fashion design’ phase, which lasted for five very memorable months, during which he wore even her most dubious of creations without complaint even though he really, really couldn’t pull off that particular shade of orange. 

There were probably pictures still floating around, actually, but he was in no particular hurry to dig them up.

Not that he was ashamed, because he’d like to think he pulled off some of those combinations remarkably well, but... well, if it were anyone other than his sister asking, he probably wouldn’t have done it.

Goodness knew how long it’d taken for some of the other guys at boarding school to look him in the eye afterwards. 

.

Several decades in, and Justin Hammer had yet to express interest in anyone.

Oh, he was perfectly polite and charming to everyone; courteous and charismatic, but...well.

'Gentleman’, some called him; ‘in the closet’, dismissed others with a scoff.

The truth was somewhere in between: Justin couldn’t help but see everyone his age or younger as kids, and between that, his natural older sibling instincts, and his own personal issues with his body that came and went, well...

At least Stark was always a good distraction, nobody paid attention to him when the guy was around. 

.

Justin worked at his company long before he became its CEO. 

It was a bit awkward at first, because everyone seemed to be uncomfortable with the idea of the boss’ kid looking over their shoulders, but once they saw he did good work and pulled his weight [and didn’t regularly make tasteless jokes about kitchens or whatever bullshit his old man was up to these days], things picked up the pace.

He bounced between departments a bit because he wanted to get a better feel for the company, and it was during his brief foray in the marketing department that he came across something that gave him pause.

Now, he knew Hammer Industries followed federal guidelines on who they did and didn’t sell to, officially, but...there were a few grey areas sometimes. 

Normally, it wasn’t something he’d have blinked at, but he recognized the names on this particular proposal.

“Von Doom? Latveria? Geez, Victor, what’ve you been up to?”

.

Once upon a time, there had been a boy who appreciated silence when studying during a time when most children his age were anything but.

So when another brat showed up, he hadn’t exactly been happy about it at first. 

But they were quiet, and seemed to prefer to keep their nose in their book, and so they’d come to a wordless agreement to share the space. 

For over three years, they studied together and shared exasperated looks when the other brats got loud, and so it was that a friendship was born.

It wasn’t until they stopped showing up one day that Justin learned that there was turmoil in that student’s country that’d forced them to go back, and only then that he learned his silent studymate’s name.

.

An unusual childhood friendship wasn’t much to go off of.

But it was something.

And knowing what he did about Victor, and the pull his country had in the international sphere... it was a risky gamble, but he was fairly certain he could pull it off.

So Justin quietly but firmly took that particular proposal from the ‘reject’ pile, and took it to his father to look over.

He was still fairly new at this, but he knew how to play the game. It was a risky gamble, but if this panned out, they’d have a significantly stronger foothold in places their rivals couldn’t even dream.

Worst comes to worse, well... everyone was so focused on what was going down in Yugoslavia, it wasn’t like they’d particularly care if a few shipments went missing, now, would they?

It wasn’t pretty, but then, Justin wouldn’t get anywhere in the world if he was afraid of getting his hands dirty.

.

Latveria’s reputation as an unstable country ended when the scion of one of their most eminent families went and united its people, kicking out all of the outside factions vying for territory as he did.

Then he promptly turned around and revitalized its economy, infrastructure, and gods knows what else because seemingly overnight, Latveria turned into one of the richest countries on the planet. 

Sitting back in his chair, Justin smiled as he put down the newspaper.

“Huh. Sounds like someone’s been busy.”

.

He got a very slick cell phone via courier, not long after that. 

That, and a slip of paper with a simple ‘Thanks’ in Victor’s signature scrawl.

.

Years passed.

Years passed, and shit went down, but no matter what hurdles life threw his way, Justin powered through them nonetheless.

Like when his little sister had a kid and their parents freaked out because she wasn’t married, and then freaked out even more when little Timmy turned out to be on the spectrum and Justin wasn’t remotely surprised when she cut all contact with them after that.

Goodness knew he’d have done the same long ago, after all the shit they’d pulled over the years.

He was just happy she chose to keep him in her life, and that Timmy seemed to really like him as an uncle. 

.

Stark was a bona fide hero, was talking about privatizing world peace. 

Justin wished him the best of luck.

But...well, he hadn’t been the one to propose their rivalry, but if Stark wasn’t in the industry to compete against, then... oh, bother.

Looks like he’d have to change up his plans.

.

Stark was acting weird. Well, weirder, he’d never really been able to understand him in the first place.

“What’s wrong?” Justin asked as he pulled him to the side. Sure, it was probably rude to ignore the gala’s host, but he did not like the look in Stark’s eyes, no matter how bright his smile was.

“Hey, Justin! How’ve you been? Long time no see, but—”

“You’re not okay.” He said, making sure his tone brooked no argument because he knew Stark, had known him since they were kids and he was not okay.

It was like a switch flipped: Stark’s smile vanished, and he reached out towards him for a moment before he sighed and were those tears in his eyes? “Yeah, you could say that.”

.

The government wanted to take Stark’s super-fancy suit, and...this, he could work with. Somehow.

Damn it, he’d need to tweak some of his plans even more...

.

For a few seconds, Stark looked very betrayed when he caught sight of him in the courtroom. 

Then his face went blank in the way Justin had long known to be his ‘I am screaming internally but I refuse to let the cameras see’ look, and he felt bad for him even as he submitted his own findings to their audience.

To be honest, they were a long ways off from developing anything close to what Stark already had in hand, but it never hurt to be prepared for the future. If one man could do it, what was to stop another?

They were all lucky Stark was a good man who didn’t abuse his power.

Justin was no hero, but if lightning were to strike twice...better him than a potential threat.

Besides— Stark needed competition if he didn’t want to stagnate. Who knows? Hopefully, they’d be able to push each other to greater heights.

.

Ivan Vanko was a dangerous man. Just as brilliant as Stark, but with an edge that could only have been gained from a hard life.

Dealing with him would be like playing with fire, Justin just knew it.

[Like knew like, after all.]

But he knew people, knew how to work them, and considering that little display at the race track?

He could work with this.

.

It takes a handful of phone calls to put out all the fires from the past few days. 

Perk of being a well-known and respected figure in the defense industry, Justin supposed; Stark’d once mentioned his contact list was classified six ways to Sunday, so really, having a few senators on speed-dial was nothing. 

He had to do some extra sweet-talking to calm down some of the generals, and may or may not have made mention to some of his older contracts to get Stern to ease up, but whatever.

.

Why he was invited to Stark’s birthday celebration, he didn’t know. 

But he brought a bottle of apple cider and champagne anyway, because why the hell not.

.

This party was really, really not his style.

So when he was pulled aside by the man of the hour, he raised an eyebrow when he noticed he was out of his suit and— wait.

Justin whipped back to where the piece of equipment that had been the source of all this mess was dancing on the table, while Tony was in a rumpled suit not three feet from him.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”

.

Stark looked like shit. 

...and was apparently dying, because he’d passed up Justin’s offer at a toast, even though it had been an inside joke for almost as long as they could remember.

Also, he’d looked stricken when Justin had tried to joke about it, that was another pretty big clue.

They weren’t normally one for hugs, but this time they didn’t hesitate to offer— and so felt very very awkward when the closest thing they had to a childhood frenemy proceeded to break down in their arms.

Justin’s older sibling instincts flared to life and they tried to murmur reassurances the best they could, but.

Wasn’t like there was much they could say, now, could they?

Stark was dying, and there was nothing they could do about it. 

Something inside Justin was screaming, and the part of him that wasn’t trying to be there for someone absently wondered why...then he noticed what he was saying, and kicked himself for not paying attention earlier.

“—ever give up, I’m here, know you are not alone—”

Geez. Talk about sappy, normally they only got like this around their sister or nephew.

But whatever it was they’d said, it apparently helped. 

Or something, because Stark was honest-to-goodness crying but after a few minutes, started to calm down and pull himself together.

“I’m so, so sorry about this—” Stark started, and Justin cut in.

“Don’t be, looks like you needed it.” And he clearly had; already he looked a lot better than before.

“I...should get back to the party, shouldn’t I?” Ah, looks like Justin wasn’t the only one feeling awkward now.

“It’s gone on for a while, and you look pretty tired. You sure you don’t want to wrap it up instead?”

“...yeah, that’s... probably a good idea. See you around, Justin. Hopefully.”

“See you later, Stark.” 

.

Stark apparently invented a new element in his basement. 

He knew this, because Stark called him up to say he wasn’t dying anymore. 

Once he hung up, he felt torn between immense relief, and exasperation that he’d need to rewrite his plans again.

.

...aaand kinda ran out of steam again. Long story short, yes, this is the AU where Justin Hammer maybe sort of becomes the Lex Luthor of the universe and may or may not end up accidentally creating a League of Evil of sorts because he’s frenemies with Tony and Victor von Doom ends up having a similar dynamic with some grad student and Ivan has some really good ideas and loves sticking it to the man. 

Said club only grows when the Avengers Initiative forms, and Loki escapes custody and joins for the sole purpose of pranking Thor and giving Fury a headache and Justin may or may not end up getting a crush somewhere along the way.

No, I’m not sure how we got here either.

[the-fusionist]

Jasonette July: First Meetings

A/N: Hello, I’m back at writing again! I suck at commitment, but I’m going to do my best to follow up with the stories for this event. Hope you all enjoy! Let me know if you want to be on the tag list!

HERE I GO:

If Marinette had to rate her time in Gotham so far on a scale of one to ten, it would probably be a 4 or 5. The reason she had moved to the United States was for college, having been accepted into Gotham University. 

It was amazing to have a change in scenery after the defeat of Hawkmoth. Her and Adrien became good friends after realizing who the other was, and she knew that there wasn’t really a chance of a romantic relationship with Adrien now. He was with Kagami, and she really had no right to come between them. Besides, a long-distance relationship would be difficult to maintain. 

Adrien had given up his miraculous after finding out who Hawkmoth was. He didn’t really want to have anything to do with the miraculouses after how much they had destroyed his family. Marinette couldn’t blame him for that, and she didn’t push Adrien on the subject. Now she had all the kwamis in her possession as Guardian. Last she saw Plagg and Tikki, they were talking with all the other kwamis in her apartment. 

Now though, she was regretting her decision of leaving Tikki behind. She had been working on a project and was in desperate need of some red satin. She knew that it was past midnight, but the fabrics shop was just two blocks away. She could get there quickly and come back to her apartment in a short time, and it probably wasn’t likely that there were too many people out this late. 

Oh, how wrong she was. Out of the corner of her eye, she could spot a shadow drifting across the sidewalk, keeping pace with her brisk steps. As she tightly clutched her shopping bag that contained her new purchases, she could faintly make out several pairs of heavy footsteps. She groaned internally, this was not her night. She blamed lack of sleep for her stupid decisions, deciding she should probably bring Tikki everywhere from now on. 

At this point, she was almost one block away from her apartment. She definitely didn’t want them to know where she lived, and just two yards ahead of her was an alley. If she made the sharp turn into the alley, she would have the element of surprise and she would have a better chance of taking them down. Her time as Ladybug had given her plenty of fighting experience that wasn’t lost on her. 

So, after walking a few more feet, Marinette turned sharply into the alley. She quickly spotted a convenient dumpster, and crouched behind it. Hastily, she shoved her shopping bag and purse under the dumpster. She only had to wait a few minutes, before two dark shapes entered the alley. Slowing her breathing, she listened as they trudged deeper into the alley, closer to where she was hiding.

A gruff voice could be heard, “Where did the bitch go?”

Before the other man could reply, Marinette jumped out and socked the man closest to her in the chin. He stumbled backwards for a second, before falling to the ground, knocked out. 

The other man, who had been in a shocked state, moved his hand under his jacket. Marinette presumed that he was reaching for a gun, and acted fast. She whipped her leg up, and kicked the man's ribs. A sickening crack was heard, and the man gasped before falling backwards. He ended up on the dirty floor next to his friend, moaning in agony before passing out. 

Marinette almost sighed in relief, before she heard a quiet thud behind her. It almost sounded like someone had come from the roof above, but that didn’t make sense. So, a panicked Marinette swung around to face her new attacker. Without even processing the appearance of the person, she smashed her fist into his face. Years of fighting akumas lead to pure muscle memory, and her urge to survive had taken over her completely at this point. 

She felt her knuckles press against cool metal, surprising her momentarily. However, the idea of an attacker who was wearing protective gear spurred her into an onslaught of blows. She kicked and punched her new opponent as they staggered backwards, cursing colorfully. 

“Holy shit, lady! I’m trying to help you!” came a strangled voice that was somewhat muffled from what appeared to be a red helmet. 

Marinette paused, looking a bit more closely at her would-be attacker. She gasped in shock before letting out a word vomit of apologies in French and English. Before Marinette stood none other than the Red Hood, one of Gotham’s resident heroes. He was still holding his forearms up to his head, trying to protect himself in case she decided to continue hitting him. Slowly though, he lowered his arms and Marinette could fully look at the vigilante. 

His brown jacket was wrinkled and smudged with dirt. His clothing overall was in disarray, and he looked awful. The worst part though, was an ample sized dent in his shiny, red helmet. Marinette felt overwhelming guilt. She couldn’t believe she just did that. Oh, hell, what did she just do? She continued to blurt out panicked apologies while hyperventilating before the vigilante in question spoke.

“Whoa, calm down. I’m okay, and you’re safe now. Deep breaths, you’re okay. I’m not dead, you’re okay.”

Marinette stopped blurting apologies and slowly felt herself calming down. Oh god, why did these things happen to her. She took deep breaths like he advised, and little by little she felt herself coming off the adrenaline high. 

Once she was mostly calmed down, a cloud of discomfort fell over the two. It was currently 2:00 a.m., and Marinette and the Red Hood were standing in a damp alleyway next to two unconscious bodies. The awkwardness was so thick, Marinette was sure she could cut through it like a knife. So, she decided to break it. 

“Umm…Thanks. I’m really sorry about attacking you, I really didn’t mean to. I totally wasn’t trying to kill you on purpose or anything so I’m so sorry. And I damaged your helmet, I can pay for it if you want?” Marinette nervously stated.

To her surprise, the Red Hood burst out into deep laughter that was slightly smothered by his helmet. Despite the situation, Marinette couldn’t help but smile a bit.

He finally replied, “No, you’re totally okay. I’m fine, and you don’t have to pay for the helmet or anything. I scared you too, and I probably should have probably said something before jumping down into the middle of an alley at night. But, damn, you punch good!” 

Marinette let out a burst of laughter, though it was partially due to relief that the Gotham hero wasn’t totally pissed at her. 

“Thanks, but please let me pay you back somehow. It’ll make me feel better about beating you up. Please?” she asked. 

“No, trust me, it’s totally fine. Besides, you should probably get back to wherever you live. I’ll make sure the cops get these two goons, but it would probably be safer if you were back inside. I can walk you back to help you in case you get bothered again?” Jason had no intention of leaving her all alone at night. Even if she refused him, he would tail her by the roofs to make sure she got home safe. 

Luckily, Marinette agreed, “Yes please, and thank you so much! I really am sorry though.”

Distractedly, Marinette grabbed her purse from under the dumpster while the Red Hood tied up the two men. Hurriedly, she walked with the hero in a comfortable silence all the way back to the entrance of her apartment building. 

“Well, this is goodbye. Nice meeting you Warrior Lady, despite the shitty circumstances,” the red helmeted man said good humoredly. 

Marinette laughed at the nickname before replying, “Goodbye to you too. And thank you for everything.”

“Your welcome. And it really was no problem, trust me. I better get going, but it was fun to meet you.”

So the Red Hood gave a quick nod to her before turning around. Right before he could disappear though, Marinette cried out.

“Wait!”

He abruptly turned around, before a small tin was shoved into his hands. 

“Thank you!” Marinette smiled before stepping into her apartment building and leaving the vigilante standing alone in the dimly lit Gotham street.

Jason curiously looked down at the box in his hands. Cracking it open, he found several macarons sitting in a row. Underneath his helmet, a small smile crossed his face. He decided to make his way back to the two idiots the girl had knocked out. He needed to check if the cops had found them. Stilling smiling to himself, Jason mused over the events that had just transpired. It had definitely been an interesting night. 

Marinette had come back into her apartment, dropping her purse onto the floor. After being fussed over by the kwamis when she told them what had happened, she crashed into bed. However, a thought occurred to Marinette, and she groaned. Her new red satin was still under that dumpster. Her whole trip had pretty much been pointless. Too tired to care anymore though, she fell asleep. 

The next morning, when Marinette walked onto her balcony contemplating last night's events, she was surprised. Sitting on the table of her balcony, was Marinette's shopping bag with her forgotten red satin. Smiling to herself, she grabbed the bag and rushed back inside with a new bout of inspiration. Some outfits based on the Red Hood flashed into her mind, and she quickly got to work.

TAG LIST: @rebecarojas07 @theatreandcomicfreak​ @maribatlife @ethelphantom @18-fandoms-unite-08 @mochegato @jasonette-july-2k20

[thetriggeredhappy]

scout likes sniper but can't help but blush and go awkward when he sees it

me, who saw a very pretty girl with bitchin’ tattoos and temporarily forgot how to speak english for about five minutes today: ha check out this fuckin loser having’ crushes and stuff..... ha what a fuckin goobus

(no warnings)

-

He really did legitimately hate the fact that he always made such an idiot out of himself in front of people he liked.

Like, he had literally no problem just hooking up with people. Absolutely no shame. See someone good-looking, walk up, ask them if they wanna bang, either get slapped or get in a car. He didn’t feel even a little bit bad about it, he was just being really honest about exactly what it was he wanted. And plenty of people respected that he wasn’t one to play stupid games.

The issue was that as soon as he got like, more than moderately invested before he could cut to the chase, he was absolutely fucked.

Miss Pauling was a great example. The situation surrounding him first meeting her was such a whirlwind and so weird that he didn’t really get a chance to ask her out, and so he’d just sorta been left to stew on it, and then he got cheesy. Started thinking about all kinds of romantic shit. And that was a complete fuckin’ mess for like, literally years until he found out she was seeing some girl and promptly stepped off because he was a hopeless romantic, not an animal.

And that had like, sucked, but at least he was functional. He only saw Miss P like, on the monthly maybe, and usually just over the phone or whatever and not in person. At least he could spend the vast majority of his time being exactly as much of a doofus as he usually was and not just a hoppy sappy mess.

But then. Oh, but fucking then.

He glanced in his periphery as subtly as he could, popping his gum to try and just for a second act natural, so frustrated with himself over how warm his face had gotten all of a sudden.

It was especially frustrating because like, it had kinda snuck up on him, all the gross heart-fluttery crap that always came along for the ride whenever he got a thing for someone. And he hadn’t really pieced it together for such a long time, but then one thing happened and everything cracked wide open all at once and now he couldn’t even just sit through the team meeting without—

Sniper moved to tug on his own hat idly, nudging his shades up his nose the millimeter or two they’d slid down since he last adjusted them maybe a minute and a half previously, and Scout had to force himself to stop looking at the guy for like ten seconds. And ten seconds was exactly how long he lasted before he was looking over again.

It sucked. Like, he’d gone years and years just kinda letting Sniper do his thing—the guy clearly just wanted to be left alone, didn’t want to be bothered with their shenanigans, so he really didn’t ever see Sniper around much. Barely knew the guy beyond like, some very basic stuff. And he kinda got the impression at first that Sniper was actually just way too cool for him to talk to, a hired assassin from fuckin’ Australia of all places, beyond skilled and into intimidating in his particular practice, maybe a little scary in the few interactions Scout caught him in during battle.

And he was like, more an idea of a person than an actual person, for those reasons. Scout didn’t really think much about what he had to actually be like.

Then one night Scout woke up around 3 AM and couldn’t get back to sleep and he decided to just go grab a snack from the kitchen to try and maybe squeeze a nap in before he was meant to be awake at 6:30, and he’d walked in and seen Sniper standing there.

Sniper was pretty professional in all interactions Scout ever had with him. Only ever showed up in the base proper in full uniform, and while he wasn’t like, Medic or Spy levels of crisp clean-cut, he still always at least looked put-together. But now Scout was confronted with the concept of what Sniper wore for pajamas, something he’d only ever thought about once or twice before, and was now suddenly witnessing.

Sweatpants, apparently, and a sweater. Green and grey, knitted. Socks. No hat or sunglasses, which was weird enough that it actually kind of took Scout a second to understand who he was looking at.

Sniper looked up at him when he walked in, and Scout knew he probably looked like hell, but Sniper didn’t look all that much better. He seemed pretty tired, and Scout watched as he visibly tried to sort himself out, standing up straight and squaring his shoulders a little, leaning less heavily on the counter.

“Uh, sup,” Scout said, and walked over to the fridge, deciding to just kinda play it cool and like he was totally anticipating that someone might be in the kitchen at 3 AM, and also that it wasn’t weird that he was in the kitchen at 3 AM.

“...‘llo,” Sniper mumbled, and glanced back down at what he’d been doing before Scout showed up.

Eating cereal, apparently, the bland wheat garbage that about half the team usually put up with, he and Pyro being the ones who tended to go for the more sugary brands. Scout occupied himself with trying to sift through the over-stuffed fridge for something he could feasibly eat, deciding not to stare.

But the silence was pretty painful. He didn’t like silence, it always felt almost itchy to stand there and not say anything when there was someone like five feet away, so he broke it after a few seconds. “Doesn’t it get hot in that?” he asked, not looking over at Sniper.

A pause long enough that Scout was half convinced Sniper was just going to ignore him, but he did end up speaking. “Gets cold at night. ‘Specially out there, it’s... warmer in the base,” Sniper murmured. “Used to it being warm, besides.”

“Fair,” Scout shrugged, pulled out a container, glanced at it, put it back. “Probably hotter in—“

“Australia, yeah,” Sniper agreed, in a tone that implied he’d heard that a hundred times before.

“It’s summer there right now, right?” Scout asked, pulling out a different container and scowling when he saw Engie’s name on it, begrudgingly putting it back.

“...Yeah.”

Scout finally found a leftover Chinese takeout box that he was at least reasonably sure was his own, and moved over to the microwave, dropping the leftovers on a plate and putting in some random amount of time, aware he’d just be stopping the microwave when noises started happening anyways. He glanced back over at Sniper. Sniper wasn’t looking at him. “That’s a cool sweater, though,” Scout finally said.

“Thanks,” Sniper said into his bowl. “It’s, er...”

There was a very long silence as Scout waited for Sniper to finish his sentence and he didn’t. He popped the microwave open to check on his leftovers. Not warm enough. He closed it again, turned back around. Kept waiting.

Apparently Sniper did decide to finish his sentence eventually. “It’s wool. From... back home,” he said, voice still quiet.

“Huh?” Scout asked, a little confused.

Sniper finished his bowl, put it on the counter next to him. Scratched at the back of his neck. Without the hat it was much more obvious how Sniper’s hair just kinda flipped up in the back, and how unruly the rest of his hair was as well, even deliberately brushed back out of the way. “Family’s sheep farmers,” he finally said.

Scout’s eyebrows rose. “Yeah?”

Sniper nodded. “We don’t... spin the wool, some other bloke does that, but we get to sell the yarn at least. Usually m’parents keep at least a little bit. Mum knits. Gives... gloves and the like to any kids in town.”

“She made that too?” Scout asked, glancing the sweater up and down again. “Jesus, how long did that take?”

Sniper shrugged. “Week, maybe two.”

“That’s pretty cool.” Scout scratched at his arm as a memory occurred to him. “Only sweaters I ever had were hand-me-downs from my brothers, itchy as all fuck. They never wanted to pass down the softer ones.”

Sniper nodded at that. “Makes sense.”

There was a long silence then, in which Scout finally noticed his food was starting to make popping noises and he pulled it out. Mostly hot, some cold bits in the middle, but he grabbed a pair of chopsticks from the drawer of assorted utensils and stirred it around so it was more even. It was just noodles, so it didn’t matter much.

“Late dinner,” Sniper said, almost managing to make it sound like a joke.

“Early breakfast,” Scout shot back, nodding at the cereal bowl and stirring his food around a bit more.

Sniper tilted his head in a vague sort of agreement, going quiet again. Scout started eating, and winced a little at how some noodles were weirdly dry and others were goopy, but hey, beggars couldn’t be choosers.

Silence again, but at least Scout could keep himself occupied with eating instead of thinking about it.

“You know how to use chopsticks?” Sniper finally asked, surprising Scout a little bit. He glanced up.

“Yeah, duh, who doesn’t?” Scout scoffed.

Silence for a second. “I don’t,” Sniper said.

Scout looked up again, befuddled. “Man, are you serious? I learned that when I was like, five,” he prodded.

Sniper shrugged, looking away again. “Just never learnt. Never really had to, didn’t come up.”

“Fuckin’, learn how to use chopsticks, man. What’re you waiting for, a written invitation?” Scout joked.

“Eh. I’ll get to it,” Sniper shrugged again, and rubbed at his eye, and suddenly it hit Scout how much of a human being Sniper was. Standing there in a sweater his mom knit for him, eating cereal at three in the morning, admitting that he just never learned how to use chopsticks.

What the fuck, Sniper was just a regular dude who happened to be in their line of work.

What the fuck.

(He did look pretty good out of uniform, huh—?)

And that was it for him, a series of back-to-back realizations compounding until he realized how good-looking Sniper was, even rumbled at three in the morning under the shitty fluorescents of the kitchen—especially like that. And he felt his face go burning hot, and he dug into his noodles to try and cover it, and he almost choked on his food.

Absolute fucking mess.

And like—now Scout was noticing all kinds of tiny little things. Sniper always crossed his legs at the ankle, left-over right, and his arms right-over-left. He had a bruise on his thumb from jamming it on his rifle, and his shades were crooked a little tiny bit to the left, and his hair was all flippy-uppy in the back but there was this one lock of hair that was especially flippy-uppy. He didn’t put anything in his coffee like an absolute monster but did put just a little bit of sugar on his cereal, apparently. He kept nodding off during meetings but nobody else seemed to notice since he had the shades on and you had to be looking pretty closely and from roughly Scout’s angle at the table to see his eyes were closed, and he didn’t have any other tells besides his jaw being a little tight.

Twice so far he’d been asked by Medic if he had a fever, he was blushing so hard. At once point Demo had dunked on him a little bit about “zoning out” and “thinkin’ about someone special, probably”, and he’d only barely escaped by rolling his eyes and rolling with the joke instead of getting defensive. He’d gotten mysteriously more clumsy in front of the team at large, fumbling and tripping over his words and even stammering sometimes. He was such a goddamn sappy mess.

God. He was so fucked.

[eleanorbloom]

[OH] When You’re Ready Ch. 03

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything of the Open Heart World. The name Eleanor Bloom and her story was created by me, though.

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x f! MC (Eleanor Bloom) x Ethan Ramsey.

Word Count: 4.8k

Warning: Angst, adult language, and smut. 

Summary: Bryce has decided to let go of Eleanor because she’s in love with Ethan Ramsey. But a turn in her relationship with the attending might change Bryce's plans.

A/N: Thank you so much for all your kind words and your support. 

I have the urge to remind you all that English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes. As a perfectionist, I’ve been having a hard time trying to make this fic the more comprehensible as it can be.  I know my English doesn’t suck, that your people understand what I write (lol) but I’m sure there are some idioms or, I don’t know, the order of the words that may seem off, and I can't help but feel bad about it. Just know that this happens because I’m a Spanish speaker trying to write a fanfic in English.  

That’ll be all. Lots of love to my readers 

Let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist! :)

Taglist: @utterlyinevitable @binny1985 ​ @laiba-the-person ​ @choicesficwriterscreations @shanzay44

______

Chapter Three: All I Ask.

It matters how this ends

‘Cause what if I never love again? 

Eleanor walked into the locker room feeling her heart in her throat, a knot threatening to make her explode with rage and bitterness once again. When she reached for her locker, she found Sienna already fully dressed to leave Edenbrook.

“Oh my god, Ellie, are you okay?!” Sienna inquired as she perceived the mortified expression on her face.

“I’m not”

“What happened? Did you… Did you speak with Dr. Ramsey?”

“I did”

“And?”

Eleanor couldn’t help but let a few tears stream down her face, but she managed to avoid the sob.

“He’s going to the Amazon with the WHO”

“What?! Oh my god, that’s big”

"And he’s leaving tomorrow”

“Oh no. Ellie, I’m so sorry ”

Suddenly, all traces of sadness and rage disappeared from her. She wiped the tears off her face and cleared her throat.

“Don’t be. Let’s get outta here, I need a drink”

"Okay, I’ll text the others to meet at Donahue’s”

Sienna eyed Eleanor with concern. She wanted to tell her to stop suppressing her feelings, to stop pretending she didn’t care, but she preferred to keep it quiet, hoping that at some point she would explode and let everything out. Because she had spent all those weeks pretending that she didn’t care, that it didn’t hurt to ignore Ramsey, that it didn’t hurt that he didn’t care that she was ignoring him. Nearly five months of pent-up emotions.

 An hour later, Eleanor was at Donahue’s with Bryce and her new best friend, the vodka. Elijah was with Phoebe choosing a few songs on the jukebox to dance to; Sienna was with Danny and other nurses playing darts and Jackie and Rafael were deep in conversation at the bar. Bryce had noticed her mood but didn’t want to ask her directly, since he guessed who was responsible. Instead, he preferred to join her to drink, without judging that she was almost drinking the entire bottle of vodka by herself without any coyness, although he was willing to make her stop when it became dangerous for her health.

Suddenly, Eleanor’s face sparkled with fury. Bryce turned to check the source of her discomfort, knowing perfectly well who it was. Ethan was at the bar talking to Reggie as he took a seat.

“You’re so predictable, Ethan Ramsey"—She muttered as she took the shot of vodka in one sip—"I bet he’ll have a couple of shots, waiting for the moment when I’m alone, and if doesn’t find me alone he’ll just switch to some non-alcohol drink because he will have to wait for me until I decide to go home. All that wait just to cry apologies for something he didn’t want to say, but said anyway”

Bryce smirked as he heard her rant.

"Do you want me to leave you alone so you can talk to him?”

“No! No, please, I don’t want to make it that easy for him. I want to see what he’s capable of. If he’s just going to be a shitty wary that’s going to expect to find me alone, or if he’s able to get right up to me. Please don’t leave me alone, Bryce.

“Don’t worry, Elle, I won’t leave you alone if that’s what you want”

“Thank you, Bryce. You are the best”

“I know I am. Cheers for that”

They clanged their glasses and took another shot.

“Why are you so mad, by the way?”

Eleanor told him their talk with the details that only a drunk and upset person can do it.

“So, he’s leaving then? And he didn’t even tell you?”

“No. He didn’t want to tell me”

“Oof, what a douche. Hun, why do you let him treat you like this?”

“I don't know. I don’t know why I have allowed this torment for so long. But I got tired. I don’t care anymore. If he stays, if he goes. I don’t know why should I care when he has never cared for how bad I’ve been all this time”

Bryce looked at her with a sad expression. He hated to see Eleanor that way. Crying, hopeless. Suffering. He took her hand tenderly.

“Eleanor, I’m so sorry”—He said, caressing the back of her hand—“You don’t deserve anything you’re going through. It’s okay to be angry, you can’t allow him to treat you like that”

“I know”—She replied in a tiny voice.

“And you can’t keep wasting your time with someone who doesn’t value you, Elle. He may love you, but if he really valued you, he wouldn’t treat you like that. He wouldn’t let you suffer like that” 

Bryce stroked her cheek, looking right into her tear-filled eyes.

“You’re right, Bryce"—She stared right into his eyes without looking away, then wiped her tears with the back of her hand.

“You deserve the world, Eleanor”

She couldn’t help but give him a big smile as her cheeks flushed.

Then she turned her gaze to the bar and realized that Ethan was with a tense posture making glances toward their table.  Seeing Eleanor cry and be comforted by Bryce surely challenged his nerves more than he was willing to admit.

About fifteen minutes later, her friends began to return to the table to start the Karaoke session. They had fun with some of their favorite songs and other classics requested by other clients. Then was Eleanor’s turn to sing a song. She felt a twist on her stomach.

“Eleanor, it’s your turn, what did you request?”

“All I Ask”—She replied to Elijah, simply.

Everyone at the table stared at her.

"Eleanor…"—Bryce whispered—"Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes. I’m done hiding my feelings, pretending he didn’t hurt me just to make him feel the less uncomfortable”

The melody began to play, and Eleanor already felt her heart shatter without even having started the first line. Her friends stared at her for a few moments and then looked away at the awkward situation that was coming. 

“I will leave my heart at the door

I won’t say a word

They’ve all been said before, you know”

Eleanor was heartbroken and drunk, and practically putting on a show in front of all Donahue’s, but deep down her friends knew that that was what Eleanor needed right now, to release all her feelings in front of Ethan, though not directly. Because Eleanor had been holding back all these months, resisting love, the desire to be with Ethan, resisting the urge to stand in his office or his home and ask him once again to stop pushing her away and to be together once and for all, more times than she had already done. She had swallowed the love, the pride, the pain in inhuman ways. But what had happened today was the culmination of too many repressed feelings, and if her way of finding catharsis was through the saddest, cheesiest, and most heartbreaking song Adele had ever written, then so be it.

“So why don’t we just play pretend

Like we’re not scared of what is coming next

Or scared of having nothing left”

Eleanor took all the courage she had and turned her gaze to Ethan, who was staring at her with the most mortifying look she had ever seen on him, and she had seen plenty: When Dolores passed away, when he found out Banerji had a month to live. He was not holding anything, the pain, the guilt, the embarrassment.

“Look, don't get me wrong 

I know there is no tomorrow

All I ask is

If this is my last night with you

Hold me like I’m more than just a friend

Give me a memory I can use

Take me by the hand while we do what lovers do

It matters how this ends

‘Cause what if I never love again?”

At least Eleanor had a very good voice to sing the songs of Adele, so she wasn’t embarrassing herself too badly. Of course, she was not as good as Adele herself but made a few good notes, and the alcohol had given her too much courage to go for the high pitches, and the anger gave her too much feeling to sing with such a passion, that she astonished to all her friends. She was actually killing it.

-"I don’t need your honesty

It’s already in your eyes

And I’m sure my eyes, they speak for me

No one knows me like you do

Eleanor looked directly at Ethan again.

And since you’re the only one that mattered

Tell me who do I run to?"

The words came out with such rage from her core, that Ethan felt as if she had said it a few inches from him, and not indirectly through a song and standing several feet away from him. And he felt every one of her words, every look, every drop of anger and sadness. He acknowledged receipt of all this and accepted his responsibility. He felt broken at the sight of her because he wanted to do so much to ease her pain. But he couldn’t.

After the song was over, Eleanor returned to her place with tears on her face but not one iota of embarrassment.

“Eleanor, that was truly beautiful”—Sienna said, tears on her face too—"Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m feeling better, I think it took a lot of weight off my shoulders”

“That is the important thing”

“You were very brave”—Bryce said caressing her back.

“Guys, I just ridiculed myself in front of the whole bar and you guys are treating me like I’ve won a war”

“You did something for yourself that you should have done months ago. Show how you really feel”—Sienna replied, serious.

“Well…”

“We are proud of you, Eleanor”— Elijah added.

“It’s about damn time you take care of yourself and don’t let Ramsey do whatever the fuck he wants”—Continued Jackie.

“Even if that means to sing a sad song in front of him”—Concluded Sienna.

After that, Eleanor was in a better mood and managed to distract herself from all she had been through that day. However, the presence of Ethan, sitting there at the bar, probably waiting for her, was a latent nuisance in her stomach.

A few hours later, Eleanor and her friends decided to go home. The moment she passed by his side, Ethan got up from his seat and walked towards her.

“Rookie”.

His disposition had changed from hell to heaven. She was no longer Dr. Bloom. She was Rookie again.

“What is it, Dr. Ramsey?”

Ethan looked at her sadly at the coldness in her response.

“Can we talk?”

Eleanor looked away to the floor, anger washing over her again. Then she looked back at him, who was waiting for her answer with pleading eyes.

“About what? I’m going home”

“I know … I-“

“I’ve been here the last four hours, I’m sure you could’ve looked for me in all this time… But obviously you waited for me to want to go home to do it?”

Ethan knew she was berating him. She shook her head.

“I was hoping you weren’t such a coward and would look for me directly. But you behave like a shy teenager who has never spoken to a woman in his life”

“Eleanor, are you coming?”—Jackie asked.

Her friends were at the door, first-hand witnesses of her exchange with Ethan.

“No, I stay. Don’t worry about me”

Eleanor looked at Ramsey coldly. They took a seat in the back of the bar so no one could hear them.

“So? I thought we were done”—She broke the silence between them.

“No, we are not done, Eleanor”

Ethan lowed her head, pondering his words.

“If… If I didn’t tell you about my trip to the Amazon, was because I wanted to make things less difficult for us. The last time we spoke I made myself clear that we can’t be together not because I don’t want to, but because we can’t. And when I noticed you started to avoid me, I thought maybe you finally understood my point, and I was okay with that”

“Then why you threw all over my face that I was ignoring you, like you weren’t okay with that?”

“Because I realized that you didn’t do it because you understood my point. You did it to piss me off. To return the favor. As vengeance. So, if you did actually ignore me with that motive in mind, you didn’t have the right to reclaim something from me”

“I…”—Her cheeks turned red.

“That’s not the point now, Eleanor”—He interrupted—"What I’m trying to say is… You can’t stop saying that everything I’ve done it’s because I want it, that I’m responsible of all your misery. But let me be clear. I don’t want it, Eleanor. I don’t want to be apart from you, I don’t want to ignore you. I’ve never wanted to spend the last five months ignoring your existence, not be able to talk to you, not to even look at you”

Eleanor observed his features, tracing all sense of honesty and determination. She knew he wasn’t lying or playing the victim.

“I’m not comfortable with this”—He continued—"I’m not okay with that but if that’s what allows me to be away from you to not interfere in your career, I’m willing to do that and more. I know it’s painful for you, that it’s not the best option for both of us. But this is the only way I can cope up with the situation”

“The only way… Ethan, are you sure not talking to me, not even looking at me the is the only option?”

“To me, it is”—He responded categorically—Eleanor, what I want is to be with you. If I could, I would’ve never let you leave my bed the first time we made love, or I would’ve never get up from your bed the last time we were together. If I could, I would live in that dream all my life. But I can’t”

Tears started to stream down her face. Again. His words broke her in million pieces. Because she couldn’t stop reliving those nights in all these months. Now she was realizing Ethan couldn’t either.

“I need you to understand that I’ve never wanted to hurt you. If my actions have hurt you, I’m sorry, but I mean it when I say I’ve never wanted anything of this to happen. I would love to make you happy in the ways you want. Believe me. But you have fought so hard to be here, Eleanor. Years to get to be at Edenbrook. Years and especially difficult months to get the Junior Fellow position. I can’t let you jeopardize your career nor your reputation”

Eleanor was speechless. She felt dumb, like a stupid teenager that let herself go on emotions and never thought through the real meaning of all his actions. She still felt a little pissed off, because there were still a lot of things Ethan should have avoided telling her and that were mean. But everything else he had done was… reasonable. Fair. Thoughtful.

“Ethan… I’m sorry for yelling at you like that. I feel embarrassed about how childish I was today”

“No, Eleanor. I still believe that you have every right to be mad at me because I didn’t tell you I would be out. I always knew I should’ve told you, but I was afraid. I’m a coward as you said. I didn’t want to face this conversation. Your pain. But you deserved more”

Eleanor nod.

“Well, yeah. You should’ve told me. But I made an outburst. I didn’t want to listen to you, I was being stubborn just to get what I want, but maybe I’ve never really put myself in your shoes”

“That’s all I ask. To understand why I’m doing this from my point of view”

Suddenly, Reggie approaches.

“Ethan, I’m sorry, but we are about to close”

“Thank you, Reggie”

Eleanor grabbed her purse and walked to the door followed by Ethan.

Eleanor turned to him.

“I believe you when you tell me you’ve never wanted to hurt me by staying away from me. But there have been plenty of times when you have hurt me by behaving like a dick to me, unnecessarily. Because one thing is avoiding to talk to me, but you have ignored me, you have been cruel, you have looked at me like you hate me”

“Yes. I know. I hope you can forgive me one day”

“I could forgive you, but I’ll only do it when I feel assured that you won’t do it again and I think there’s not enough time for that now”

Ethan stared without saying a word. He knew he couldn’t promise her that. He knew himself.

“Well, I think you can go in peace now that we have left everything clear, don’t we? Have a nice flight, I hope the mission is a success and you return safely. Bye”

Eleanor started to walk down the street to get a taxi.

“Why are you leaving like that? You’re not even going to say goodbye?”

“I said bye. That’s a goodbye. Or was it too informal? Goodbye Dr. Ramsey. There you have”

Ethan took her arm, forcing her to look into his eyes. Hers were reddened, tired, anguished. Like she was holding a ton of pain on her mind.

“Eleanor…”

“What, Ethan, what?“—She answered as her voice was breaking. She didn’t want him to go. But she had to let him go. To let that goodbye lingering more than necessary would only do her more harm than it had already done her.

“Let me take you home”

No. She would lose her mind if she let that happen. But she wanted it so bad.

“You were drinking”

“I drank whiskey when I arrived, after that, just lemonade, because I figured I’d have to wait until the end of the night to talk to you”

She wanted so bad to be with him as much time as possible. But she was trying to respect Ethan's intentions. But… He was leaving tomorrow. That was the last time she would see him in god knows how much time.

“Okay, let's go”—She agreed.

They walked silently back to the hospital, where Ethan had his car parked. The journey was silent. Ethan didn’t even dare to turn on the radio. They were only accompanied by the noise of the engine and other vehicles traveling through the streets of Boston at 3 am.

Eleanor wanted to say so many things, but it would make everything worse. So she lost herself in the smell of his car. Every time she sensed that smell on someone’s car o in any place, it reminded her of him. 

She had always had a particularly olfactory memory, and although most of the time it brought her good memories of her childhood or adolescence, in terms of relationships it always brought her bittersweet memories, melancholy, regret. 

She knew that smell—The smell of Ethan’s car, a scent of pine and musk—, or his smell — a fresh citric scent—would only bring her pain.

Ethan parked outside the apartment. The street was lonely, no one could be seen in the distance, and the only sound was the murmur of cars passing by the main avenue. A lump wove in her throat. She was afraid.

Eleanor turned to him to say goodbye. She wanted to make it simple. She could swear that she wanted to make it simple. 

“Have a good trip, Ethan, I hope you get back safely”—She spoke softly as she hugged him.

"Thank you, Eleanor”

“Text me to know that you arrived safely, please”—Eleanor asked, looking straight into his eyes. Those sky-blue eyes that were always the beginning of all her madness.

Ethan caressed the nape of her neck with his thumb and then he closed his eyes while pressing his forehead into hers, trying to absorb all her presence, the silkiness of her hair, the sweet scent of her neck, the warmth of her skin, of her hands. Before Eleanor could pull away, he sighed:

“I hope one day you finally understand that everything I’ve done, everything I’m doing, is for you. Because it's never been about me, Eleanor. The only thing that matters to me is that you become the brilliant and successful doctor you really deserve to be”

There were so much sincerity and pain in his speech that Eleanor pulled away from him so she could see his eyes. She stroked his cheek.

“I know, in a way I understand it, Ethan… But I can’t accept that path has to be this painful… And so unfair”

“Life isn’t fair, Eleanor”

Eleanor wanted to refute him that in this case, life had nothing to do with it. Because life wasn’t being unfair to her. He was being unfair. But she was unable to say a word. She was mesmerized by Ethan’s look. His eyes that so many times had given her comfort, now they haunted her dreams, they didn’t let her sleep at night, and at that precise moment, was threatening the little sanity she had left. 

After a few moments, they began to look at their lips, mere inches away from each other, until they finally gave in to the inevitable. A brush of lips so satisfying and full of redemption that they sighed in unison, to come together again in a more intense kiss, capturing and biting each other lips. Ethan felt Eleanor’s tears stream down his cheeks. To alleviate her own pain and avoid a sob, Eleanor stroked Ethan’s hair tightly in the back of his head, intensifying the kiss even more, sliding her tongue in his, and all over his lips. 

Ethan didn’t have time to hesitate and was caught up by the same desire. Soon, he was sliding his hands under Eleanor’s coat, feeling the curve of her breasts, her waist, and her hips. It was a never-ending dance of lips, which was complemented by more caresses, and then Eleanor climbing on top of Ethan, straddling him with her legs.

On another occasion, she would have pulled herself together and walked away. But knowing that she wouldn’t see him again for a long time, it drove her crazy. And maybe not for a long time, but there was always the possibility that this would be the last time they would be together, that both of them would want each other. Because no one could foretell what would happen from now on, when both he and she had finally accepted that their relationship had reached a dead end and that it was up to Ethan to revive it, and he had been clear that that wouldn’t happen.

“Eleanor…”—He sighed, a glint of reluctancy in his tone. He gulped.

She ignored him and continued to kiss him passionately, as she began to move over Ethan’s lap gently. 

"Deny that you want this"—She whispered a moments later—"Say that you don’t want me and I swear I’ll go”

Eleanor pulled away from him and looked into his eyes. It was dark, but she was able to see the sparkle in his eyes slightly. Eleanor’s anticipation was stifling as she felt Ethan’s bulge between her tights.

“I want you more than anything in this world”—He replied melting at the sight of her on top of him, his arms around her body.

Without wasting another second, she kissed him again, intensifying her movements over him.

“Eleanor"—He gasped, feeling an electric shock down his spine as he rested his hand over Eleanor's hips, pressing her against his crotch, rubbing each other as their moans began to invade the car.

Suddenly, Eleanor slid her hand between his tights, feeling his arousal under her fingers. He went to her pants, unbuttoned them, and shoved his hand under her panties. He felt her wetness, her desire. She sighed.

“Ohh, Ethan…”

“You’re so ready”

“Yes” She mumbled.

Ethan tried to lower her pants, but he couldn’t do much, due to the uncomfortable position. For a second, Eleanor thought they could have gone to her room but abandoned the idea immediately. She knew that Ethan could have second thoughts on their way to her apartment and she didn’t want to risk the possibility to be with him. 

Instead, she returned to the passenger seat, took off her shoes, and after moving the seat backward, took off her pants and panties. Ethan imitated her and pushed the seat backward as well and began to unfasten his pants. Eleanor, anxious, unhooked his belt and pants before he could finish, and released his cock under the boxer, and lowered herself to slide her tongue in all his length, to finally cover the tip with his mouth and then go deep. After a few moments, she moved upwards, sucking him hard.

“Eleanor”—He sighed in pleasure.

The girl worked on him for a few moments, until Ethan stopped her and guided her to sit on his lap again. “Come here”

They kissed again, devouring each other, Ethan grazing her jaw, her neck greedily, while she was gasping loudly as the anticipation was taking her body, feeling his arousal right under her sex. Then he removed her sweater and pulled her shirt and bra up, exposing his breasts. He cupped them with both hands before taking his mouth straight to her chest and began to kiss them… and then to suck her nipples.

"Ethan” Eleanor moaned loudly “Yes!”

The sound of his breath while licking her nipples and the “smack” after his mouth sucked them resonated in the car, and it was just another source of pleasure for Eleanor. But there was still something both were missing. Eleanor shifted slightly as she directed his arousal towards her center.

“Fuck”—She sighed as Ethan was entering her.

It was a blessed feeling, although neither of them believed in God, least of all in religion. That pleasure, that ecstasy, was a catharsis after all those months containing their deepest feelings and desires, after reliving almost every night the precious time they had spent together and that now were long gone.

“Oh, I missed you"—He groaned, taking her butt harder, as he was picking up more speed.

“Fuck yes. I wanted you so bad”—She kissed him, tongues colliding, teeth biting and swollen lips asking for more and more.

“You feel amazing, Eleanor”

The noise of their bodies colliding filled the car, but they were soon muffled with the moans that each one was not able to suppress, in the face of the sensations that were overwhelming them.

If someone was passing by and they had caught them, they wouldn’t have cared. All that mattered at that moment, was the feeling of their bodies connected. The pleasure that one was producing in the other. The ecstasy, the madness of their touch. The smell of their bodies. Ethan went to her breasts taking one with her hand, sucking her nipples hard while the other hand was on her ass, gripping her roughly.

“Ethan, I’m close”

Ethan was holding back just to this moment. He grabbed her firmly by her hips and began to thrust her at an impossible pace. Eleanor couldn’t comprehend where all that sensations were coming from, how she started to melting so abruptly, because she climaxed just a few seconds later.

“Oh my god, ETHAN!”—She screamed as he felt her hot breath in his mouth. Her tights squeezed as she was climaxing and that was enough to make him cum crying out her name.

He saw Eleanor toppling over him resting her forehead into his. Ethan embraced her, trying to feel every inch of her exposed skin in his.

“I love you”—She whispered.

He tightened his embrace, just as he did the last time she had said those words, and Eleanor still couldn’t figure out if he did that to pent up and not say anything, or to catch some bravery to tell her something. Either way, she wasn’t waiting for an answer this time. She only wanted him to know, before leaving, that she still loved him.

After a few more seconds holding each other, Eleanor returned to the passenger seat. She took her clothes and began to put them on. He also fixed his clothes. Somehow, when she came back to reality, the atmosphere was just as tense and painful as before the kiss. Even though the orgasm was still latent between her tights, the fact of knowing that the goodbye had finally come, was shattering her.

She turned to him, look into his blue eyes for a brief second, and breathed:

“Have a good flight ”

And without further ado, she got out of the car towards the building. 

“I love you too, Eleanor”—He said just as Eleanor closed the building’s door.

 _____

Chapter 4.

[mbergansmile]

Worst of you// part 2

Other Parts: Part 1 

playlist 

Leaning over the bathroom sink, y/n tried to forget one thing . She had kissed her boss. This was not something she had dreamt or something she had imagined in her head. Nope it actually happened and there was nothing she could do except to forget. He was right,no one could know. He had his wife and She had this job. Y/n hands gripped tighter on the sink. It wasn’t even the kiss that was bothering her, it was what happens after the kiss. Usually whenever Y/n would hook up with someone it would mostly consist of making out and drunk conversations. Then she’d leave and never really see them again.Even if she did see them again it wouldn’t be awkward giving the time gap and they would just share a hello as they pass one another. 

But this wasn’t a drunk hook up and she actually had to see him again this time. Her thoughts kept circulating in her head. Not knowing witch Instincts to follow. She obviously had never been in a situation like this before. It was completely new territory for her. 

Y/n had let the water running in the faucet. She placed her palms under the running water and splashed some onto her face. 

“ it’s gonna be fine” she mutters to herself “ Just walk in there like nothing happened “ she continued trying to giver herself the courage. 

“ it’ll be fine”  She looked away from the mirror and grabbed on of the towels and rubbed it on her face. She was going to be fine, she was going to get over this. It was going to be alright.  

                                                                                                                                      Y/n pulls up to the parking lot in her fathers old hand me down Jeep. That Jeep had been in the family for over 2 decades. She remembered riding in it for the first time ever. She was about 12 years old. Before than her father always kept the car in the garage. He would always look at her and say “ This car honey, this car is for special occasions only” It was his most precious possession. The car was a dusty military green with the exception of the roof that was black. 

That day when her father took her riding in the car, she had just overheard a fight between her parents. 

Her father had taken her out that day on a car ride to get her mind of things. But really it was for him. The whole town looked different that day. She looked at the trees and the street lights differently. The things that had looked so casual to her only days before were now suddenly a nostalgic memory. She had the same exact thoughts and feeling when she drove for the first time through her hometown. 

“ you little- watch where you’re going” She snaps, she doesn’t even look up. When Y/n lifts her eyes she’s sees a male. He had pale skin and raven hair.His hair was styled in a prince charming like hairstyle en it honestly made him look younger. His eyes were empty, they looked as if he hadn’t said or seen the outside world for over a month. Dark circles were under his emerald green eyes.Making Y/n wonder what actually had happened to him the day before. He had spilled Doritos. Cheddar floured Doritos, fell out of the bag and onto her. Favourite white blouse. She wanted to scream at him and tell him not to eat junk food near a high state building. That building probably had pencils worth more than that guy.  She couldn’t believe it. The crumps had a light sound as she stepped on the fallen Dorito-chips. Y/n closes the car door annoyed. 

“ holy shi- I’m so sorry” 

“ My names Fionn, I just thought you wanted you know ” He said. Was he seriously introducing himself in this monent. There weren’t sharp stains, in fact you couldn’t barley see them until he tried to get the stain off. Because he already had Dorito crumps in his finger tips it just ended up smudging the blouse more. Y7n pushed his file hands away from her blouse and started walking away. 

“ I truly am sorry “ he continued. She was to far by now to hear anything, if he even did say anything. Her first priority was to get rid of the stain. Y/n looks at her clock and sees that she still has about 15 minuets till work starts. Plenty of time to get her shirt cleaned. Y/n walks over to Janice and leans over the desk eyes her “ you wouldn’t know if we have a washing machine of some sort” Janice looks at her as if she was the dumbest person in this world “ I dunno hot stuff, why don’t you ask the cleaning ladies ?” Janice was clearly not having a good day either or maybe she was just annoyed to be the information guide“ calm down Janice, I was just asking” Y/n replied with a condescending tone. Just as she had cleared her mind a little she remember that she actually had an extra shirt. It was tucked away in her bag, she remembered that she had put it there for emergency’s like this. She gave Janice a small ignorant smile before leaving for the bathroom. Could this morning be any worse? 

   Y/n runs into the bathroom, she checks the time on her wrist “ Shit 5 minuets”she mumbles to herself as she stripped the shirt off her Body. Picking up the new one and put on. It so simply fit her body, even if it was a somewhat oversized sweater. 

Y/n tucked it into the jeans and walked out of the bathroom running over to her desk. 

 Getting to her desk just in time, she threw her stuff beside her chair and sat down. Tom called her into the office. His voice was sharp and stern. A little frightening-yes but she did as she was told. 

“Late again I see” He said. A fake smile form on her lips 

“ I know I’m sorry” The muscular man has wonder in his eyes, it can almost be portrayed as desire. He eyes the woman in front of him closely.Most likely wondering why she was wearing a white aliens are rad t-shirt.  Curling his lips as he utters the words “Would you be so kind and close the door”y/n walked over and closed the huge enchanting door. They were Victoria like almost but still had the brown colour of the wood. She turns around graciously and sits down. Sitting face to face with Tom felt comfortable, weird and it wasn’t something she enjoyed. He wasn’t saying anything to her, he just looked at her closely. Y/n shifts in her chair, her breathing getting louder and louder in her head. 

“I uh” he pauses and puts his hands together, intertwining his fingers and starts to fiddle his thumbs. There was something about Tom that always made Y/n wonder, was this all to much for her.? “I’m sure you know why I want to have a little chat?” She did. She knew exactly why he wanted to talk to her “ obviously the kiss was a mistake a mistake never to be repeated, understood” she nodded.Thomas Stanley Holland was mostly a self absorbed ass who didn’t care about anything other than himself and his company. Y/n knew that and she actually had been debating if she could put up with it. She’d heard awful Stories about him from Tabitha. It was clear to her that Tom Holland was not a good person. “ You may leave now” Y/n got up and started walking over to the big wooden doors.

“Oh and miss y/l/n make sure to see if my father is still set for our meeting later and also don’t let anyone in. I have a lot of work to get done and don’t want to be disturbed “ She nodded and walked out the door. Her finger runs through her hair as she exhales, she had been holding her breath the entire time trying nit to say or do anything stupid. She looks up at her surrounding trying to make sense 

Y/n sat back down behind her desk and called Domenic “ Hello Mr Holland, yeah it’s Y/N Y/L/N Tom’s assistant. I was just calling to check in the dinner meeting was still on ?” 

“Is Thomas being a little paranoid ?” His dark husky voice vibrated through her ears. He sounded like Tom, if Tom was a smoker of 30 years.  

“No sir, it’s just my job to check up on meetings incase there’s been any changed of plans” She explained, lying of course. Tom was being paranoid or at least not never trustful of his father. She wondered how Tom and Dom could sound almost identical but have two different ways of speaking. Dom was well calm and collected to his tone, Tom was the opposite. You could tell by the way he spoke that he was insecure. He didn’t have everything under control and She’s pretty sure that is what Dom thinks as well. 

“Tell my son that he doesn’t have to worry” he hung up the phone. Just as Y/n looks up from the cell phone she had just placed back into it’s operator a female walked past her. Y/n watched for a second before remember that she was not allowed to let anyone in “ Hey Miss you can’t go in there” the gorgeous female turns around and smiles “ Darling, I can go wherever I want whenever I want” she turned to doorknob and walks inside the office ‘Shit I’m getting fired’ y/n thought and got up. She ran after her into the office “ Sir I tried to stop her but she wouldn’t listened, should I call security?” Tom was watching the golden haired beauty with hearts in his eyes “ no need she’s my wife” she just nodded and stood by the doorway. She remembered that Tabitha had mentioned something about a wife. Y/n turns around leaving the office and closing the door behind her. 

I'm so sorry for another shitty ass chapter next one will hopefully be better and be up quicker lol. It’s just I'm currently writing a novel, like an actual young adult novel and I'm really excited and so that is why I haven’t updated. Again I am so sorry I hope you at least enjoyed this.

tags:

@peteryesparker

[phan-of-the-pen]

I Dare You To Stay: Chapter 9

YALL IM SORRY FOR THIS ANGST BUT LIKE THEY’RE A SHIT TON OF FLUFF IN THE BEGINNING DOES THAT BALANCE THINGS OUT???

Tags for chapter: fluff, mentions of depression, mentions of internalized aphobia

Words for chapter: 4.7k

Fic Summary: Dan Howell is a barista working a shitty job, frequenting his shitty apartment, and living a shitty existence, hiding his asexuality and going for a PHD in self-depreciation and depression. Phil Lester is a part-time intern, part-time employee at a local weather station, trying to get experience in his field and make a name for himself, while juggling a second job at the nearby Tesco’s to give him some financial breathing room. Their paths were never supposed to meet, but what happens when they do anyways, one rainy day in Manchester?

(ao3!)

<– Previous chapter Next chapter -->

~~~~~~~~~~

Dan was curled up on one of the booth seats, his feet tucked underneath of him, body leaned towards the huge, warm-to-the-touch window separating him from outside. It wasn't because he was cold—it was never cold in the store—but because the sunlight spilling in just felt too good on his skin.

He was on his lunch break and for once had decided to abstain from holing himself up in the break room. And okay, maybe it had something to do with Jaime letting him pick the music that played from the shop's speakers. But really, he was enjoying it much more than he had thought, even to the point of considering making it a habit. But it was still a consideration, mind you.

Dan scrolled through twitter, retweeting or liking some of the posts that caught his eye. He didn't know what time it was, but he knew that he had plenty of it; his break had just started.

"Wow, Dan, you look just like a cat basking  in the sun."

Dan jumped in surprise and snapped up his head from where it was staring down at his phone in his lap. Phil was sliding into the booth seat across from Dan, a smile on his face. He looked relaxed in a soft looking jumper and his glasses, hair done up in a quiff.

"Oh, hi," Dan said, lamely. He mentally berated himself, but tried to not let his awkwardness take center stage by ignoring it, praying Phil did the same. "It's been a while, Lester."

Phil snorted and took a sip of his coffee.

"A while? Dan it's been ages."

Dan laughed, and just like that, the air between them cleared and it was like they had restarted right where they had left off.

"Last time I saw you it was Wednesday, Dan. You're not allowed to be sick anymore, by the way. Thursday I had absolutely no one to talk to while I had my coffee, and I didn't even bother coming in Friday because I figured you wouldn't be here since you were so sick the day before. And then you're off on Saturday so I couldn't stop in then." Phil scoffed like the fact that he and Dan hadn't seen each other in a few days was a personal insult. And Dan really shouldn't have found the notion as cute as he had, and definitely not as endearing.

"So what? You'll only come in if I'm here?" Dan asked, a warmth in his voice and a grin on his face. Is Phil really that attached to me? Ha. For some reason, the prospect that Phil didn't know what to do with himself when Dan wasn't around just made Dan's smile spread wider.

Phil blushed, pink flooding to his cheeks and protesting weakly.

"No one else here makes my coffee the way that you do." He said, his face still pink and his bottom lip finding its way in between his teeth. Dan laughed.

"I'll make sure to rub the fact that I make the best coffee in her face later, then."

Phil hummed and brought the coffee cup in his hands up to his lips again for another sip. 

"How're you feeling, Dan?" Phil asked, pulled Dan from his thoughts.

"What?"

"How are you feeling? Like I know when I get sick I'm in this weird half-sick half-better stage for like a week afterwards; are you one of those people?" Phil said, his gaze returning to Dan's.

Dan nearly snorted.

Half-sick, half-better, huh? I think you mean my permanent state, Phil, Dan thought. He didn't dare think about saying it out loud though, no matter how often Dan seemed to just blurt things out. He had some self control.

Dan thought back to the past few days, to all of the hours melting together, a prisoner in his own mind. He saw himself laying in bed, not moving, just...just thinking, for lack of a better word. And really, it wasn't thinking at all, but self torture. Dan remembered the numbness that filled every part of his body, and how it had taken Jaime Friday and Saturday to finally pull Dan out of his own headspace.

Even today, it had taken him more time than usual to get himself out of bed and start his day. The world wasn't quite as vibrant, the smile on his face not quite as sincere, his depression still louder than normal. So yes, maybe he was in that half-sick half-better stage.

"Yeah, I would say I'm still somewhat sick." Dan finally settled with. He felt like he was lying with how vague he was being right now. But it was better than spilling about his dead mental health, right?

Phil frowned and reached forward so his palm was flush against Dan's forehead. Dan sputtered and felt his cheeks grow hot at Phil's cool touch. He ignored the heat on his face and tried to pass it off as nonchalance, hoping to god that Phil didn't notice.

"Stop fidgeting I'm trying to see if you have a fever."

"And what if I do? I'm at work so it's not like I can do anything about it." Dan said, determinedly not thinking very hard about how there would be no fever because Dan wasn't sick. Or at least, not like how Phil thought he was.

"Dan, if you have a fever you're going home even if I have to walk you back myself." Phil replied, seriously.

“Well what does my forehead say then, oh wise one?” Dan asked sarcastically.

Their eyes locked and something in Phil's glimmered. “Turbulence,” Phil said. “Conflict between what you want and what you need.”

“And what do I need?”

The hand was withdrawn. Dan missed it immediately.

“To be beaten at Mario Kart, of course.”

“Phil,” Dan said, laughing a little nervously. Once again, he tried to ignore what had just happened as best as possible, batting his eyelashes and trying to stay in step with whatever this was that they were doing. “At least buy me dinner first.”

"Okay." Phil said, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. Dan's eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open. He can't be serious. "We can swing by someplace before we get to my flat, or we can always order out." Oh my god he is serious.

"Besides," Phil said, with a sly curl of his lips, sipping at the coffee in his hand, "dinner is the least I could do.”

“Wait until you see me order a whole lobster. Your wallet will be crying.”

Phil’s eyes glittered. “Can you even get that delivered?”

“If you can’t, I’m quitting this job and setting up a lobster delivery service.”

“Nerd.”

“Dork.”

Dan wanted to know why talking with Phil was so easy, so natural. The only person that Dan had ever connected this fast with before was Jaime. And even then, their banter hadn't developed this quickly.  

"Invite me to the wedding," Jaime called from where she was wiping down a few tables with the ratty—but clean—washcloth she and Dan were always using. Neither Dan nor Phil had noticed her working a few feet away from them, and both of their eyes widened in surprise. Phil, however, took it in stride much better than Dan, the look on his face softening to one of amusement.

Fuck, how didn't I notice her there?

Phil laughed while Dan's face burned, surely as red as the lobsters they had just been fantasizing about. In the back of his mind, Dan worried Jaime would turn this into something like that, something to do with sex, like last time. He prayed that she wouldn't. He wasn't interested in hiding his discomfort at the implication that he would be involved in any kind of sexual situation, and he certainly wasn't interested in trying to pretend that the thought didn't make him mentally revisit parts of his past that just tear into his heart.

Dan's head started to work in overdrive, all kinds of repressed memories surfacing. He pushed them all away. Happy. That's what he was feeling a moment ago. Time to get back to it.

"I'm sure Dan will let you be his bridesmaid."

"Hey!" Dan cried, snapping out of his dark thoughts. He reached over and wacked Phil's arm, who looked entirely too pleased with himself. "Who decided that I would be the wife in this relationship? You would be the housewife for sure."

Phil gave him a look and Dan heard Jaime's snort all of the way from where she was standing clear as day. If anything, it only made Dan's blush deepen.

"The both of you are absolute bullies. I'm calling friend abuse for crushing my dreams."

"Yeah, Howell, I'm sure that's one of your dreams." Jaime muttered, finishing up with the table she was cleaning. Meanwhile, Dan wanted to find a hole and die.

He didn't like Phil like that. Sure, he was handsome and good company and had really fucking pretty eyes, but that was it. Besides, Dan didn't date.

Phil thankfully didn't comment, though. He twisted around in his seat so he could see Jaime and held out his coffee cup, a pleading expression on his face.

"Jaime, could you refill my coffee please?"

Jaime sighed, but stepped forward and grabbed it, nodding. She turned to walk away, but Dan called out to her as well.

"Could you get me a drink too?" Dan asked. Then, as an afterthought, he added: "Please?"

"You work here, Howell, you know how to make yourself a drink," she said, cocking an eyebrow, a disapproving look on her face. Dan shrugged and gave her the best puppy-eyed look he could manage.

"But I'm on break. Please? I won't ask for anything else the rest of the day."

"We both know that's a lie, but sure, Danny-boy, I'll get you a drink."

"Danny-boy?" Phil asked, a smirk starting to form on his face. Dan groaned, putting his head in his hands and cursing Jaime.

"Don't you dare start calling me that too, Phil."

Dan brought his head up to find Phil looking at him with a downright mischievous glint in his eye.

"Don't you dare."

"Are you-"

"Don't."

"-sure-"

"Phil!"

"-Danny-boy?"

"Oh my god."

Phil started to laugh and Dan didn't miss how the tip of his tongue stuck out in between his teeth or how after a few moments of breathless giggling he brought his hand up to his mouth. Fuck. It was adorable.

"I don't think this friendship is going to work with this blatant betrayal, Philip. I shouldn't have to put up with this. Especially not if I'm supposedly going to have to deal with this while I destroy you in Mario Kart."

Phil had finally managed to pull himself under control, and he gave Dan a semi-sobered look, but Dan could still see the repressed jokes and sly remarks that Phil was just dying to make.

"Beat me, huh? I'll have you know that I'm the best out of all of my friends in Mario Kart."

Jaime returned, two drinks in her hands, sticking her tongue out at the both of them in the process of handing them over. Dan noticed that she had drawn little frowny faces on their cups and laughed.

"Well," Dan said, turning back to Phil who was clutching his warm coffee in between his palms, "you're definitely wrong on that one, mate." Dan took a sip—yes, Jaime added in extra sugar. The heat of the liquid didn't bother Dan's mouth though; he was too used to chugging back a sometimes-still-burning drink on a regular basis in a desperate attempt to combat his lack of sleep in the mornings.

There was still a little voice at the back of Dan's skull that nervously fretted at how this was possibly a bad idea, but really, for once his social anxiety wasn't overriding everything in his system, and Dan was positively living for it.

"You're going to have to wait until the weekend though, if that's alright. I've got to work a bunch of double shifts to make up for the pay I lost by missing work, so I'm not going to have time until Saturday. You free then?"

"Yeah, I'm free for the whole day after I do my weather segment."

Dan snorted.

"Sorry, I forgot you were famous, Phil, but I'm glad you're making time for us peasants."

~~~~~

"No! No no no!" Phil jumped up from the sofa, his fingers furiously working at the buttons on the controller in his hands. His body was tense and his mouth was open in a silent protest. Dan, meanwhile, was laughing on the sofa behind him, relaxed as hell, and enjoying how Phil was desperately trying to beat him in Mario Kart.

He didn't stand a chance; Mario Kart was Dan's game.

Too bad it had taken Phil this long to figure out that Dan hadn't been lying when he said he would crush him.

Dan's grin grew to an impossible width when he got another power-up.

"Phil, oh Phil, I'd just stop trying if I were you."

Phil made a sound of protest, but didn't dare take his eyes off of the screen.

Maybe Dan was enjoying this just a little too much, but really, Phil was terrible. It was unbelievably easy to have this much of a lead on him, and Dan was sure that if he had pulled out all of the stops, he would have stretched the gap between him and Phil even wider. Currently, Dan was in first, Phil in fifth. Part of the reason why Phil was so far back was because Dan kept messing with him, dropping back just to hit him with a shell or something similar, more times than not making Phil swerve, running into a wall. And while Dan would laugh and pull back in first, Phil would groan and shove Dan's shoulder, pouting.

Dan drifted around the corner, and used his power-up, increasing his speed and sending him flying over the finish line.

"Yes!" Dan shrieked, thrusting his controller into the air and nearly jumping from the couch. Phil cried out in protest, a hopeless "No!" pouring out from his lips as the game ended. He spun around, and Dan couldn't stop laughing, feeling it in his whole body.

"How are you so good?! That's got to be something like witchcraft."

"Maybe you're just that bad." Dan managed to squeak out in between bursts of his hyena laugh. Phil's face scrunched up and Dan tried to reign himself in, but really, Phil made it too easy.

"That was just a practice! I could totally beat you now that my fingers are warmed up." He grumbled, walking back to the couch where Dan was splayed out and lying down, his long legs reaching all the way to the other side. He started to move them, but before he really could Phil just picked up his ankles and lifted them up, sliding under them and sitting on the sofa. Phil let Dan's feet drop into his lap and looked up at the screen, already selecting another map.

(Dan ignored the beginning of a blush on his cheeks because all Phil did was touch his ankle he shouldn't be acting like this)

"Are you looking to be beaten for a second time?"

"Ha. In your dreams, Howell. I'm going to be the one beating you today."

Dan scoffed, but the effect was ruined because he couldn't stop smiling.

Phil turned his head and looked over at Dan, a wide grin on his face.

"You have a dimple."

"What?"

"Your dimple. I've never seen it before. It's cute."

"Oh." Dan said, and there was definitely a blush on his cheeks now. Phil didn't comment on it, just letting his attention fall back to the TV. However, Phil let his hands drop so they were resting on top of Dan's crossed ankles, the touch seemingly to burn through Dan's jeans.

Dan didn't say anything about it, or about how there was something new added into the atmosphere between them—something he couldn't quite place.

Phil finally selected a track and a new game started. Dan flicked his eyes to the screen as the game started to count down from three. When the horn went off, he sided right up to Phil's kart and drove him into a wall, a brilliant plan of attack forming in his head. Phil tossed Dan a dirty look but Dan just stuck his tongue out. Whatever had popped up between them in that little exchange a few moments ago was gone, for now.

~~~~~

Phil tossed his controller onto the floor and crashed back into the back of the couch, an arm falling over his face.

"I give up. You win. You bloody win, Dan, there's no way anyone can beat you."

They had been playing Mario Kart for over two hours now, and Phil hadn't come close to winning once. In fact, the closest he had gotten was a whopping third. And in hindsight, with Dan harassing him as he was, getting third was a decent enough achievement.

"I'm glad it only took you a million games of me handing you your own arse for you to figure it out, Phil."

"Oh shut it," Phil said, pulling his arm down to smack Dan's leg. He was smiling though, so Dan knew that he wasn't as annoyed as he let on. Dan let his controller fall to the floor and shifted down further into the sofa, wiggling his toes on Phil's lap. Phil pretended to gag.

"I hate to break up our little Mario Kart marathon, but you promised me dinner and I think my stomach is literally going to digest itself."

"That sounds painful." Phil said. His hands were on Dan's ankles again, but this time Phil's thumb was unconsciously tracing little patterns on the skin that was exposed there.

"Mhm."

"Where should we order out from then? There's a Indian place not too far away, or maybe the Chinese one a few blocks away? Something else?"

"Phil," Dan whined, "I thought I was promised lobster remember?" Dan said, trying to bring back the playful atmosphere that it was a few moments ago. Now...now there was something more.

"Dan, there's a reason why I have two jobs. Maybe in like, ten years I can get you those lobsters."

Dan sighed as if in disappointment, and nodded. "How about some Indian then, if we must."

Phil rolled his eyes and once again curled his fingers around Dan's ankles, lifting them up just like before and sliding out from under Dan's legs, getting up.

"I'll call us in something, wait here."

After the food was ordered and Phil had returned, he had just shifted Dan's body once again so he could sit before letting Dan's feet fall onto the tops of his thighs. Dan was too nervous to move them.

Instead of playing more Mario Kart, however, they decided to turn on a movie while they were waiting for their food.

When it arrived, Phil hopped up before Dan could and paid, bringing the bags back and putting them on the table. Dan sat up eagerly, his stomach growling at the smells wafting from what Phil was spreading out in front of them. They dug in, sitting close enough for their thighs to brush together, the movie playing in the background. Dan didn't really care if he was missing parts though; it was an old Marvel film they had both seen countless times before.

Dan let out a little noise of content when he finished.

"You were right Phil, that was delicious. I want to marry the chef so they could cook like that for me every day."

Phil looked at him. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes were intense. It pinned Dan down and dissected him, took him apart and looked at all of his pieces.

And Dan was helpless to fight it. He couldn't look away if he tried.

"Yeah? Would you propose to him with a bagel?" He asked, the question nothing but a breath.

There it was again. That…that feeling between them. Dan recognized it now, for certain. His heart picked up a little, and he could feel the beginnings of sweat prickling on the back of his neck.

He remembered why he didn't date, why he didn't do anything other than platonic. He remembered the tears and the screaming and the pain, the damage he was still dealing with. He remembered, god did he remember, but he still couldn't stop the Phil Phil Phil in his head.

Dan licked his lips. He needed to get them away from this territory.

He needed to.

But.

Fuck.

He didn't want to.

"Maybe. Would that bother you?"

Dan's heart was in his stomach, yet it was still beating like crazy, sending his senses into overdrive. He didn't know what the hell he was doing, but he also didn't want to stop. And god, he couldn't stop looking into Phil's blue eyes, fuck.

Phil just stared, not saying a word. Dan was about to pull away, to give up whatever he seemed to be chasing. But Phil didn't give him the chance.

Something shifted in Phil's eyes, some kind of resolve forming right before Dan's gaze. Phil leaned forward and curled a hand around Dan's jaw.

"You tell me," he whispered and pressed forward. Dan met him halfway and he couldn't help how his eyelids fluttered closed when their mouths met. It was soft, questioning, with a clear open exit for Dan to run to if he wanted, but there was nothing unsure in how Phil kissed him; there was no doubt in the emotions Phil was pouring over Dan.

Dan would be lying if he said that the kiss shut up every voice in his head. If he claimed that this mind wasn't a shitshow, in a civil war with itself. If there wasn't a part of him that wanted to run.

But Dan was tired of running. He was exhausted and he hadn't known it, and yes, part of him was screaming that this was a bad idea, but fuck it he didn't care.

He wanted to be happy.

Phil pulled away a little, letting their mouths disentangle, but Dan just fisted a handful of Phil's shirt and brought him crashing back.

Phil groaned and nipped at Dan's bottom lip, flicking over it with his tongue. He was leaning heavily into Dan, the one hand that wasn't cupping Dan's face gently was locked beside Dan's body, holding Phil up. Dan, for his part, was angled back, and as their lips met over and over and over again it felt like Dan was just falling farther and farther back.

Dan brought his other hand to the back of Phil's head, and using the one buried in his shirt as well, Dan let his body fall, pulling Phil down with him. It wasn't as coordinated as he had imagined in his head, however, and their mouths broke apart. Dan was lying on his back, his legs angled awkwardly to the side of Phil's body, which was still somewhat posed overtop of Dan's. Phil laughed a little, but Dan didn't have the time to be embarrassed because Phil reached down and parted Dan's legs so they were on either side of Phil's body. Phil let his body blanket Dan's, bringing their faces impossibly close to each other.

"Is this okay?" Phil asked, his eyes so close, his mouth just out of reach.

Dan couldn't help but nod and reach out, pulling Phil in the rest of the way so they were kissing again. Phil let out a little sound that sounded a bit like a chuckle before turning his head and letting their mouths slot together better than before.

Dan had always liked kissing, but god, kissing Phil was a dream come true.

He didn't know how long they made out on Phil's scratchy couch, but Dan enjoyed every moment of it. He loved how Phil's fingers ran through his hair and curled around his waist, how Dan's own palm fit so well between Phil's shoulder blades, and how Phil's soft fringe brushed up against Dan's forehead.

Of course, things came to a crashing end.

Phil was kissing the life out of Dan, pressing him into the sofa with the weight of his own body, when he slipped a hand under Dan's shirt, his fingers burning into Dan's skin.

And then reality came crashing down onto Dan.

Dan gasped and both of his hands flew to Phil's chest, pushing him away. Dan rolled out from under Phil and consequently onto the floor.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

He knew this was a bad idea, he knew it.

All of the reasons why a relationship between them wouldn't work burst through his head like grenades. And really, it was just the same reason, repeated over and over in a mantra.

You're ace you're ace you're ace you're-

Dan sprang up from the floor and Phil was up from the couch in an instant, eyes wide and filled with fear and worry and concern.

"Oh my god Dan I'm so sorry! Fuck, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or-"

It was cowardly, but Dan couldn't stand there. A panic attack more fierce than anything he had faced in a while was building up in him and he didn't want to be here when it hit. Fuck. fuck. He turned, nearly dashing for the door, stomping into his shoes at a lightning and inhuman speed. Phil had caught up with him, however, and before Dan could grasp the door handle, his hand grabbed Dan's sleeve.

"Dan please don't go oh my god I swear I didnt-"

"It's not going to work between us, Phil, I'm sorry," Dan said, not missing how breathless he sounded, how kissed-out Phil looked, "but it just won't okay? I can't love you like you need me to."

"Dan? Woah, slow down, I don't-"

"I'm can't, okay? Now please let go of me."

"But I-"

Dan didn't seem capable of letting Phil finish a single sentence because he was already opening his mouth to retally. But then again Dan didn't really care if he was being rude at the moment because his heart was about to beat out of his chest and the world was spinning and all of the bad thoughts were rushing around his head in a whirlwind, unable to be stopped. Dan was panicking.

"I'm asexual! I just can't, Phil!" he blurted, and just as the words passed from his mouth his heart stopped, as well as the rest of the world. Everything stopped. Phil's eyes went wide, and that was it, Dan was ripping his arm out of Phil's grip and ripping the door open, sprinting down the hallway and taking the stairs down from Phil's flat so fast he was sure he was going to trip and break his neck.

He could hear Phil running after him, trying to keep up, shouting for him to "Wait! Please!" but Dan wasn't listening. Dan wasn't listening.

Dan burst out of Phil's apartment complex and ran faster than he had ever before. His feet felt like they were barely skimming the ground and it was like he was being chased by Death itself, but he only ran faster, pushed himself harder. And he was crying, tears blurring his vision until he could barely see. He hiccuped on a sob, but Dan wasn't stopping to catch his breath.

He had to run.

From Phil.

From the situation.

From the kisses, the feeling, the giggles and smiles and joy.

From his inability to shut his mouth.

From himself.

He ran.

[of-the-starlit-night]

Apprentice Asks - Aurex

In an attempt to finally get some info out there about my apprentice and to fill her tag, I answered this ask from. It’s long, plus I don’t know how to answer things in a short way so it’s all below the cut...

1) Which character(s) is your apprentice romancing? What attracts your apprentice to them? Asra. Uh, can everything be an answer? Seriously though, Asra has a lot that attracts Aurex. How at ease he seems in almost any scenario and he’s pretty much always cheerful. His laugh. His dimples. How caring he is. His thirst for adventure. She’s just comfortable around him. Even without romance, they are incredibly close friends and they have respect for one another and that sort of thing is incredibly important to her.

2) If your apprentice was a romanceable character in The Arcana, what would their route be like? (Feel free to be as detailed or as vague as you’d like.) Hmm, I’m not really sure. She probably wouldn’t make a good romance option since she’s more of a slow-burn type of person and there isn’t any time for that in the game. In the most vague sense, her route would have magic, light-hearted teasing, and plenty of flirting and fluff.

3) How does your apprentice take their coffee? Do they even drink coffee? If not, what do they drink instead to put pep in their step? Aurex prefers drinking tea of any variety. Her foray into coffee territory has gone no further than café mochas and that’s as far as it’s going.

4) If your apprentice was attending a potluck, what would they take as their contribution? Either potstickers (favorite food) or cookies (favorite thing to bake).

5) What are some of your apprentice’s minor and major fears? What’s the best way to comfort them when afraid? - Minor fear – Aurex is somewhat afraid of rivers since it’s how she lost her parents. Other water is fine, just no rivers. - Major fear – I’m going to be really uncreative and say never regaining her memories. She hates being the one to know the least about herself.

Physical contact is the best way to comfort her. She likes if someone holds her hand or wraps her up in their arms.

6) Does your apprentice enjoy dressing up or would they prefer to just wear what’s comfortable? She enjoys dressing up. But Aurex thinks that dressing up and comfort don’t have to be mutually exclusive. Dressing up be damned if heels are involved though, that’s where she draws the line.

7) Is your apprentice happy with their physical appearance? If so, do they flaunt it? If not, what do they want to change? Aurex doesn’t flaunt it in an obnoxious way, but she is happy with her appearance and takes pride in it.

8) What would your apprentice want as a birthday gift? Jewelry. It is guaranteed to be a no-fail gift for Aurex and she is of the mind that one cannot have too many baubles so there’s no such thing as receiving too many gifts of jewelry either. Other things that would work are books and literally anything that someone said made them think of her because she’s a sap like that. Honestly, you could give the girl a pair of socks that you said made you think of her for whatever reason and she’d love them to pieces.

9) What is your apprentice’s natural stress response (fight, flight, or freeze) and how does that influence their actions when confronted with a stressful situation? Do they recover from stress quickly or does it affect them for hours afterward? Either fight or flight, which is literally what she has done in the story so far. (Attacking Julian and trying to gtfo Lucio’s chambers.) Though I feel like she might lean towards fight in most scenarios as she likes to deal with things head-on instead of ignoring it. How quickly she recovers depends on the situation. Scary things will linger for a while, other things she gets over pretty quickly.

10) What’s the first thing someone is likely to notice about your apprentice when meeting them for the first time? Do they have any other quirks that set them apart? Strictly appearance-wise it would be her eyes. Her hair is cut into blunt bangs that end just above her eyes plus the precisely drawn black liner draws attention to her golden eyes. Second thing would be her tattoos and the amount of jewelry on one body. Otherwise, people notice that she comes across as very comfortable in her own skin.

11) How does your apprentice act when meeting new people? Are they outgoing, shy, awkward, aloof? Do they like being the center of attention? Aurex is warm and friendly when first meeting new people. And even though she doesn’t know them, she makes people feel like she genuinely cares about them by giving them her attention. There isn’t much desire in her to be the center of attention, except when she’s dancing, so she’s completely okay with being on the sidelines.

12) How does you apprentice treat people in positions of authority? Does your apprentice believe they deserve respect just because of their position/status? She believes there is some level of respect due based on position/status. But there is also a point where no matter your status, if you’re being a dick and can’t be bothered to show respect to others then she has no respect for you. Aurex can’t stand bullies.

13) Your apprentice sees someone who is very obviously wealthy accidentally drop a small pouch of coins. What do they do? If it happened now, she would return it without a thought. However, when she was a street rat Aurex would have been conflicted but would have ultimately returned it and hoped they gave her a few coins in return. She avoided outright stealing if at all possible, due to leftover teachings from her parents still ingrained in her.

14) What was your apprentice’s reaction to Julian’s speech on the docks in Book VII? How did they deal with it afterwards? So, this one is a little tricky since while I play through his and Nadia’s route as Aurex, I don’t ship her with either of them so it’s merely informational for me. That being said, when I did play it I went with the “Fine, I’ll leave” option for Aurex and later the “I don’t want to talk about it”. Honestly, Aurex wouldn’t have been all that torn up about the break up since she keeps her heart fairly guarded and it takes her a while to develop any significant feelings worth being upset over. Plus, she would have been like “We weren’t together?” So, obviously that pretty much goes against everything in that part of the chapter.

15) How does your apprentice feel about sharing a bed with Asra in the shop? Short answer is Aurex likes sharing a bed with someone, especially Asra. She sleeps better when there’s another person nearby. Long answer is prior to finding out they share a bed I had been under the assumption that they had separate beds, so now I just blend canon with my now headcanon which is: They used to share a bed early on when Aurex needed the supervision, help, or whatever when Asra was helping rehabilitate her. But much like he needs to go on trips to hide his feelings from Aurex, he started to sleep in the small bed tucked into the back workroom when it became too much. But they still do share a bed on a fairly regular basis. Every time he comes back from one of his trips, they fall asleep together without fail after talking about it. Sometimes they just fall asleep while talking or practicing magic, not to mention naps, so it’s not really a structured thing. There are times when Aurex sleeps alone and times where she shares with Asra.

16) Does your apprentice enjoy the luxury of the palace and Nadia’s gifts or do they find it overwhelming? Both simultaneously. She enjoys splurging on frivolous pretty things occasionally and Nadia gives her pretty things so that’s great. It’s overwhelming in the sense that those gifts cost way more than she could ever afford, and the luxury of the palace is more than anything she is used to.

17) How does your apprentice react when confronted with the creature from the abandoned wing in Asra and/or Nadia’s routes in Book VII? What’s going through their head at the time? Afraid. Aurex remembers what happened to her the last time she encountered Lucio, which was not fun. And now he admits knowing her and seems to be looking for her, so it freaks her out. She can’t help but wonder if he’s been lurking around when she can’t see him.

18) How does your apprentice feel about Consul Valerius? Going with the fact that in her canon she has had only one encounter with him, she pretty much hates the man at this point. During the wine fiasco, he spilled it on Senka, so that was more than enough for her to take issue with him. Don’t mess with her familiar.

19) Is there a song or songs that you associate with your apprentice?  I actually have a playlist that was originally supposed to be for her, but it has now just morphed into an Aurex/Asra playlist and I regret nothing. Anyway, I have “IDGAF” by Dua Lipa. (Whose singing voice happens to be Aurex’s VC.) “IDGAF” has 1000% to do with her shitty ex. Oh, and “Freak Like Me” by NoMBe and “Dance” by POWERS, but only because I feel like she would like those songs, they don’t actually have any special meaning.

20) Is your apprentice friends with any other fan apprentices? My friend, @asrathemagician, and I often talk about our apprentices being friends and what not, so Noctis and Aurex are indeed friends. But hey, if any of you want our apprentices to be friends, go for it. Aurex is super friendly. You more than have my blessing.

[shamelessly4shameless-blog]

Nichovich (pt 2 - NSFW)

For those who have asked, this is a Gallavich fic - there will be Gallavich and plenty of it - eventually. Hang tight and let me know what you think. I write stuff to entertain you guys as well as myself. xx 

Mickey wakes in the morning to find his face is covered in something that feels like cobwebs and one of his arms is trapped. He rubs a hand over his face, grunting irritably and blinking into full awareness.

“The fuck?”

Nicky is curled up against him, her ass pressed against his belly, using his left arm as a pillow. Her hair has exploded from the hood she tucked it into the night before and is all over him in a riot of red-gold tangles.

Mickey clucks his tongue against his teeth and begins to extricate himself. He hasn’t slept beside a woman since Svetlana finally accepted Ian and moved out of his bed for good and long before that she has stopped trying to cuddle up to him. Mickey simply wouldn’t tolerate more than a minute or two of awkward petting whilst she tried to arouse him into some sort of action before he would either leave or roll onto his side, turning his back on her.

Their wedding night had been the most difficult because she felt so fucking obligated to seal the deal and Mickey had just let her do whatever the fuck she wanted because his mind had been with Ian and the amazing sex they had just before he pledged himself to another.

“I’m too drunk to fuck.”

“I will help you.”

“No, just … just leave it alone.”

“No, I am your wife! I will help ...”

Mickey had lain on the fake rose petal covered sheets, tux pants around his ankles, watching as Svetlana knelt over him, squeezing her breasts and shaking her ass, tugging with futile determination at his limp dick with experienced fingers. Mickey had tried to get himself hard, tried thinking of broad shoulders and narrow hips, just to get it over with. But he hadn’t been able to muster so much as a semi with Svetlana’s lips against his skin.

“Your father always manages, no matter how drunk!”

“Oh sure, by all means put that mental image in my head right now, that oughta help the situation a lot.”

Mickey had snapped and then laughed at the ridiculousness of the whole thing. He had laughed until tears trickled from the corners of his eyes, rolling down into the shell of his ears, muffling the wet sounds of Svetlana’s renewed efforts.

Eventually she had huffed in frustration and lain down next to him with a muttered Russian curse; smoothing her dress and informing him that his stupid little broken dick did not mean she was not a citizen now.

“Congratulations. You’re a fuckin’ card carryin’ apple pie eatin’ cowgirl now. Good for you.”

Mickey retorted, tugging his pants back up and rolling onto his side, closing his eyes and feigning sleep until Ian’s face swam to the forefront of his mind and carried him away into a dream.

Nicky gives a small whimper beside him, grip tightening on his jacket sleeve and Mickey loses his patience, yanking his arm out from underneath her with a sharp tug.

The air in the van is seriously fucking cold and Mickey knows the only reason he slept so well is because there was a warm body against him. He feels more rested than he has in days despite the beginnings of a hangover lurking around the edges of his eye sockets.

He needs to shower because today is the day he’s going to make his move and he wants to look as good as he can for Ian. Mickey squints into the cracked, rust flecked shaving mirror and grimaces. His hair looks fucking awful but his mug shot is all over Southside so he can hardly just walk into a barbers!

Mickey shakes his head, jaw clenched, and picks up his cigarettes from the foot of his bed. He’s fucking insane. He must be, because he is risking everything on the fucking off chance that someone who hardly ever visited him, never wrote and generally pretended he didn’t exist for over a year, might still be interested enough to run away to fucking Mexico with him.

Fuckin’ Gallagher!

If the prick had maybe shown up once in a while Mickey could have gauged what his reaction to this whole thing might be and the whole thing could have run a lot fucking smoother! On the other hand, Ian had completely ignored him and Mickey was still crazy enough to pull this sort of shit, so really what kind of signal would Mickey have actually accepted?

“You’re gonna get a lungful of filter if you’re not careful!”

Nicky is sitting up and rubbing what is left of her eyeliner into the creases of her eyes. Mickey glances down at the tiny stub of his cigarette and scowls, wiping it out against the sole of his boot in a streak of ash.

“Want one?”

“Sure. Normally I like to have coffee first but I’m guessing you didn’t pack an espresso machine when you fled the mansion, huh?”

“What the fuck are you … you know what? Don’t care. You want coffee, go out and get it your fuckin’ self.”

“Got any cash?”

“I’m not buyin’ you breakfast.”

Mickey grouches and Nicky grins broadly at him

“Sure you are. You could have frozen to death but I made the sacrifice to share my body heat with your scrawny ass.”

“You mean you decided to barge into my bed and get your fuckin’ rats nest all over my face?”

Nicky pushes her tongue into her bottom lip and gives her apparently nameless friend a long level look.

“Why are you such a moody asshole?”

“Questions like that make you a whole lotta friends or …?”

Mickey lets the question trail off as he rummages through his small pack of things looking for scissors or a razor, anything he can use to try and neaten up his hair.

“I’m going to get coffee, when I get back, you can tell me what has you all … possum again.”

Nicky shifts herself from the bed and kicks the doors open. Mickey hastily turns his back, instantly livid. There could have been a fucking patrol car out there! Whatever this bitch is running from, she clearly isn’t expecting to be found in Chicago. Careless moron! Just like Ian! Fuckin’ careless and messing with the neatness of Mickey’s life before hopping out the door and disappearing.

“Close the fucking door! Are you some sort of fuckin’ retard?”

He growls and Nicky does so, eyeing him curiously.

“Don’t want the world to see that happy smile?”

“Fuck you. You said you’re wanted? Maybe act like it.”

“Oh, like you are? You a jail bird too?”

Mickey gives up on finding the scissors and spins on his heel, grabbing Nicky by the front of her hoodie and dragging her up onto her toes in the small space

“You breathe one fuckin’ word about what you think you know, and I promise you will not have to worry about the cops finding you anymore.”

Their noses are less than an inch apart and Nicky pushes her face closer still, baring her teeth in a furious scowl

“Take your fucking hands off me while you still have them.”

Mickey tugs a little harder on her hoodie and then twists sharply, catching the knee she brings up against the flat of his thigh.

“That the best you got, bitch?”

He is looking at her intently but there is no threat of actual violence. Nicky has been around enough violent men to recognise when one is about to lash out. If anything, this kid is trying to provoke her into hurting him and whilst that is all levels of fucked up, it is actually quite reassuring.

“I asked you a fuckin’ question!”

He snaps and Nicky makes a disgusted sound at the back of her throat, rolling her eyes. She hasn’t spent a lot of time around little boys, but she knows the build up to a temper tantrum when she sees one. Best way to stop a toddler having a melt down? Give ‘em a little shock.

She throws herself forward and presses her lips to Mickey’s, flicking her tongue along his bottom lip in a deep kiss.

“What the FUCK?!”

Mickey lets go of her instantly and staggers back against the makeshift shelving, wiping his hand roughly over the back of his mouth.

“Yeah that’s what I thought. Listen, you want to get into a fight, go find someone your own size. That’s about my size but with a bit more dick attached in case you aren’t sure.”

Nicky holds her finger and thumb up, about an inch apart to highlight just how small she thinks the appendage in question must be and Mickey eyes her with something as close to bashfulness as he can get.

“Fuckin’ psycho.”

He mumbles but the fire has gone out of him and Nicky huffs an impatient breath. She has no idea why she likes this little fucker but she actually does. Nicky isn’t stupid, especially not when it comes to her own motivations, recovering from addiction, relapsing and recovering again, multiple times leaves one with a certain awareness of incentives within one’s own psyche. Nicky’s situation is currently a tiny bit fucked up. She has escaped prison and fled, via a series of trains, countless hitch-hiking and walking in her sturdy, prison issue boots, to get to Chicago. Now she is here she has no fucking clue what to do with herself and so she is latching on to compulsively take care of this nameless, heart-broken man until she can figure out what to do for herself. It’s shitty, but it’s not a needle in her arm or a view from behind bars, so it’ll do.

“How do you take your coffee? Black? White? Sweet?”

“Black. Sweet if they have the vanilla shit. Thanks.”

Mickey twitches his nose and thumbs his lower lip, which is still tingling from the kiss. Unpleasant as it was, it is the first kiss Mickey has had in quite some time and it has brought back a hundred little memories of Ian that he can’t process with someone else watching him and he really wants Nicky to leave.

“Check the door this time.”

“Uh … yeah I got that that is kinda important to you. Should I knock three times and hoot like a barn owl when I get back?”

“You should go fuck yourself, that’s what you should do.”

Mickey quips, digging a crumpled five-dollar bill out of his pants pocket and shoving it at her. At this point, Ian is filling up his mind and body so completely that he doesn’t much care if there is an entire fleet outside the van, he needs Nichols to fuck off pronto so that he can get his hands in his pants and relive every kiss that Ian ever gave him.

“Whatever. Back in a bit.”

Nicky uses the crudely cut little spyhole to peer outside and then opens the door again, hopping out lightly and closing it behind her.

Mickey flips the little plastic catch, tugging at his belt before the metallic click of the lock has even silenced. He lays back on the airbed, shoving his jeans over his hips, releasing his dick which is practically throbbing with need and letting it hover above his belly whilst he plunges a hand into his bag. He finds what he wants almost instantly and pulls the folded photo out, smoothing it carefully before holding it above his head and looking into the bright green eyes peering out of it. Ian is flipping off the camera as he always had, smirking his same smirk and looking so damn hot in his grey tee and beanie combo that Mickey can hardly stand it.

He closes his eyes and wraps his free hand around the shaft of his cock, covering the slit with his thumb. The memory of Ian’s lips against his own is so powerful he finds himself licking compulsively along the swell of his lower lip, expecting to taste the unique flavour of his redheaded lover.

Ian’s name is wrenched from his lips as his fingers apply greater pressure and his wrist begins pumping faster and harder. God! Mickey wants it hard. He wants it good and hard, he wants to be pounded into submission by Gallagher and left in a puddle at his huge fucking feet. He wants to feel his insides turn to jelly and the almost painful stretch of his flesh as he takes every inch Ian cares to give him. He wants to feel Ian’s teeth at his neck and hear the rasping struggle of his breath as he comes close to finishing. He wants to see those beautiful hands gripping his and smell the scent of him flush on the air around them.

Mickey convulses and shudders as his orgasm rocks him off the bed, his ass peeling away from the plastic with a wet sticking sound. He lies there until his heart has stopped trying to explode out of his chest, then slowly sits up, and grabs a scrap of fabric from the floor, wiping his hands and belly on it.

Mickey chucks it in the far corner and tips a little water from his bottle over his palms to get rid of the rest of his mess.

He needs to get himself fucking sorted. He’s going to show up to see Ian covered in the dirt of days on the road, his hair a matted fuckin’ mess and now stinking of stale jizz too? Fuck sake.

Mickey grabs a burner phone from his stash and punches in the number he has memorised. It’s time to get a plan together and go meet Gallagher.