#knightello

[rexhc]

two garbage boys who are meant to be training but spend the whole period flirting

[rexhc]

canon relationships - (1/?) // dash knight + jack costello

“i said i’m not gay.”

“obviously.”

“really, i had a girlfriend until like two weeks ago. this-” he motions to himself and jack, “-was just a weird stupid mistake. you kissed me and burnt my mouth and got me all weird.”

jack wants to laugh in his face. it takes him a second, but then he does exactly that. “if your memory is a bit foggy, you also kissed me. a lot harder, i could add. so don’t act like the big scary homo made you gay.”

[rexhc]

sleepover

When your cell phone vibrates in your pocket, your heart rate speeds up significantly. Maybe it’s dorky to set a custom vibration for a guy that’s not even your boyfriend, but you don’t really care what people think. As long as nobody finds out about it ever.

Come over, reads the text on the bright LED screen. You consider texting back for a moment, but knowing the cell service in Cherry, Nebraska, you’ll probably arrive before the text does. You don’t bring anything with you when you leave your dorm.

Dash opens the door right as you knock on the wood, causing you to stumble backwards into the hallway, caught off-guard. The other boy quickly grabs your wrist and pulls you inside, swinging the door shut behind you.

“C’mere,” Dash mumbles, pulling you by the wrists across the room. He backs into his bed, letting his knees buckle, and pulls you into his lap and into his lips. It’s almost sweet, you think as you straddle your not-boyfriend’s waist and push your tongue into his mouth. It’s a nice change from the usual argument-to-fuck (or vice versa) route the two of you normally take.

“Mm, you’re in a good mood,” you mention, pulling away from his mouth.

“What, I can’t be excited to see you sometimes?” Dash jokes back, and you can’t decide if it makes you feel good or shitty. “Look, Nikos is home for the weekend and I don’t have baseball or work, so that means you and I can hole up in here for two days. I got a handle and almost a quarter of bud that I want to get rid of.” Dash grins as he speaks, which makes you feel like a boa constrictor is wrapping itself around your torso. He’d never bought his own shit before; he usually just smokes and/or drinks the stuff you have.

“Okay,” you respond with a hesitant smirk. Dash is definitely acting weird, but you can’t really find it in yourself to protest right now. Your brother’s last letter about the first post-Jack Christmas (well, you haven’t been to Christmas at the Costello’s since freshman year, but this was the first since being effectively disowned) brought up some unpleasant feelings this week, which led to some unpleasant AM hangovers. If Dash wants to spend the weekend getting high, making out, and watching DVDs or something, fuck it - you’re down.

When your phone goes off around one AM, you have to wriggle out from under Dash’s arms to grab it off the ground, under your discarded jeans. It’s from Vaughn (or rather ‘fuckhead’ as according to your phone).

‘?? where’ the text reads, and since you’re used to your roommate’s cryptic sleepy language you understand the question he’s asking you.

‘at dash’s. prbly b back sunday’ you respond.

Your phone receives a response about ten minutes later. All it says is ‘;)))))’. You drop your phone back on the ground. What a dweeb.

“Come back,” Dash slurs, laying on his stomach on his bed. He looked so good when he was wasted, with his hair mussed up, eyes pink, and skin flushed. The both of you had each drinken a third of Dash’s bottle of Fireball (one of your guilty pleasures, you had mentioned to him a couple times), and he always gets handsy when he drinks whiskey. You roll onto your side, facing him. Dash rolls onto his own side, moves his left hand onto your waist. He simultaneously pulls you closer to his chest and shifts closer to you himself. The relative coolness of his upper thighs compared to yours makes your spine itch and the friction of his briefs against your own makes your head light.

“I like you,” Dash says, his words blurring together. He keeps talking, which is good because you otherwise wouldn’t have been able to think of something to say. “I like your pointy nose, and your hair and how it curls a little bit right there.” He dips his finger awkwardly into your hair. You snort, arching against him slightly. “I like how…I like when you get mad at me, and then I’m mad, and then I get...to do you,” Dash rambles before he starts chuckling into nonsense. His thick hair feels soft against your skin when he ducks his head into your chest. You lay there together, fucked up and laughing.

You feel oddly confident - or at least not in the way you usually are, so you say something stupid. “Maybe we could do this. Like for real.”

Dash wraps both arms around your torso and presses his face in the crook of your neck. “I don’t wanna talk about that,” he mutters.

“Dash, I-” You start to protest, but then you feel his mouth on your skin, and you don’t feel like talking anymore. Dash’s weight shifts against you and then he’s fully on top of you, pressing your hands against the pillows above your head. He continues to mark up your neck and upper chest with his mouth before moving slowly down the rest of your torso.

The next morning, you wake up first. His arms are wrapped around you and you can feel his cool breath in your hair. A couple lines of sunshine stream through the blinds and the only sound is that of the old buzzing AC unit. There’s a strange feeling in the pit of your stomach but it doesn’t actually feel bad, so you close your eyes and fall back asleep.

[rexhc]

pt. 2

(not as nsfw as the other one but still nsfw bc hormonal teenagers)

Jack has gotten off to the thought of Dash six times since the locker room. It’s an impressive record considering it’s only two days after and he has a roommate. (Vaughn was never in the room, he’s not that screwed up.)

He still can barely believe it all happened. Yeah, he had noticed Dash looking at him a little bit, but he figured once he kissed him in the gym he’d get a punch in the face and it’d be over with. All he really wanted to do was settle this stupid crush on a straight boy. Instead, Dash is walking around campus with Jack’s hickeys. He’d obviously tried to cover them up with makeup, but Jack had noticed the slight blue markings after he’d had sweat the foundation off in elemental.

Thursday elemental was tense but overall uneventful. Dash said not one word to his sparring partner, just throwing his licks and avoiding any and all eye contact. Jack’s pretty sure he didn’t even bother to change out of his gym clothes before bailing as soon as the bell rang. It was like his dick wasn’t in Jack’s hand forty eight hours before.

When Jack gets back to his dorm that night, Vaughn isn’t there. Just a note on Jack’s bed explaining that he was with Graham and would be back late. It seems so primal to use notes when everyone and their grandmother has cell phones now, but the service in this tiny midwestern town doesn’t really support any modern technology, so even for superpowered kids, notes on the bed is the best they can do. It’s basically a supernatural 1950s.

Jack showers quickly, just to get the stick and stink of sweat from class off of him. He stands in his dorm in black boxer briefs, toweling his hair and crouching down besides his bed. Once his fingers find the shoebox under the cheap wooden bed frame, they drag it out. Jack opens the top of box, not really remembering exactly what he has at the moment. He finds two bottles of forties and one bottle of Jameson. He feels like his asshole Irish grandparents are calling to him, so he chooses the Jameson and falls back onto his bed.

He takes two swigs of the bottle before he’s rudely interrupted by a sharp knock on the door.

“What?” Jack calls through the door, preferring to not get up and answer it. His question remains unanswered, so he decides to ignore it. Another knock.

Groaning, Jack throws the bottle on the pillow and pulls on a pair of more or less dirty shorts from the floor. As he sludges to the door, he swears if it’s that annoying kid from down the hall complaining about the burning smell in the bathroom again, he’s gonna kick his ass. Again.

He swings the door open angrily, finding a tall brown eyed teenager, fist readied for another knock. Once the door is open, he freezes like a deer in the headlights.

“What are you doing here?” Jack asks Dash, his throat closing a little bit.

Dash remains in a trance for a split second before shaking his head and pushing past Jack into his dorm.

“I need to talk to you.”

“Please, come in,” Jack greets sarcastically. Dash shuts the door, but not before looking out to make sure no one is in the hallway.

“Look, you can’t tell anybody about the other day. I mean it. Don’t tell anyone. Tell me you didn’t tell anyone about it.”

“Damn, I wouldn’t have done it if I knew you’d have such a tantrum about it.” Jack pauses. “I didn’t tell anyone.”

Dash paces around the dorm, shoulders stiff and hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. Jack watches him carefully. He takes note of his hair - which he had originally had buzzed at the beginning of the semester but had now grown out into kind of a long messy crew cut - and of his eyes and how their cool wooden color somehow looked soft even while he was freaking out in Jack’s dorm. He missed a button on his plaid button up, Jack notices, leaving a small window to his lower stomach and obvious happy trail. Jack isn’t really sure what Dash says when he speaks next.

“Uh, what?”

“I said I’m not gay.”

“Obviously.”

“Really, I had a girlfriend until like two weeks ago. This-” he motions to himself and Jack, “-was just a weird stupid mistake. You kissed me and burnt my mouth and got me all weird.”

Jack wants to laugh in his face. It takes him a second, but then he does exactly that. “If your memory is a bit foggy, you also kissed me. A lot harder, I might add. So don’t act like the big scary homo made you gay.”

“I’m not gay.”

“Yeah, I could really tell by the way you shoved your tongue down my throat. Because that’s what straight boys do, right? Oh, and how you let me jerk you off. Just being bros, huh Dashie?”

“You can go fuck yourself, Jack.”

“Really? Did you want to watch? Because that’s another thing straight boys do.” Jack laughs and walks to his bed. He sits down and watches as Dash’s eyes widen at him. But he doesn’t leave. “Jesus, you’re a piece of work,” Jack mutters under his breath and turns his attention back to the bottle of Jameson. The mattress is soft under his head as he falls back and takes a drink from the bottle. A moment later, the weight in the bed shifts.

Jack doesn’t sit up, just turns his head sideways to see Dash in a position parallel to him, staring at the ceiling with wide brown eyes.

“What did you do to me?” He asks, probably to Jack but he can’t exactly be certain. His voice is much calmer than before, almost scared.

Jack sighs. He didn’t sign up for this when he decided to kiss Dash in the gym, but then again maybe he did. Jack doesn’t exactly think through decisions before doing them. His brother Teddy always said it was his biggest flaw, but Jack always thought Teddy thought through things too much. And that’s definitely worse than under-thinking, at least according to Jack Costello.

“Look, I didn’t do anything that wasn’t already there. I didn’t make you do anything. If you didn’t want to be in that locker room with me, you would have left, and I’m pretty sure you know that.” Dash is completely silent, only staring up. Jack swings his arm over his body, pressing the whisky into Dash’s chest. He takes the offer silently, taking a chug from the bottle with zero hesitation. He winces immediately after. Dash takes another swig. By the time he tosses the bottle back to Jack’s side of the bed, Jack is genuinely impressed. He says the next part a little bit more quietly, but loud enough for the other boy to hear. “...and you wouldn’t be here with me now.”

Jack rolls over on his side and Dash doesn’t meet him halfway but watches him with no intent to put a stop to it.

Dash’s lips are soft when he’s not frustrated, and instead of sharp teeth and potentially bruising force, he’s practically desperate. He breathes in big gulps when Jack’s lips break apart from his own for a moment, only to go back in with the same soft intensity. The smaller boy is half on top of the bigger one, one arm propped on its side on the comforter and the other hand pressed against Dash’s shoulder. Dash’s own hands slide down Jack’s back and grip the skin of his lower back. His rough hands feel like sandpaper against Jack’s skin and it strikes him suddenly that he’s the only one with his shirt off right now.

He sits up to tug at the collar of Dash’s buttoned shirt, and Dash immediately complies. He unbuttons his highest button and pulls the flannel off like a tee shirt, discarding it on the floor with the rest of Jack and Vaughn’s dirty laundry.

Jack has much more of a chance to really appreciate Dash’s chest now. Their time in the locker was so quick and so aggressive he never was actually able to enjoy the taut muscles and toned abdomen that was now available to him. His hands get lower and lower, sliding down the strip of fuzz under his belly button. That’s when Dash stops him.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Dash objects, pulling Jack’s wrists into his hands and away from his belt. “Can we just do this? This is fine.”

Jack’s heaving chest makes it hard for him to answer for a minute, and when he does, it’s between pants. “I - yeah. Sure.”

Dash is the one to pull away in the end, claiming he has to study for a morning test he’s more than unprepared for. Jack feels his stomach drop a little bit when the door closes behind him, but that could be the copious amounts of whisky currently settling inside him. Vaughn doesn’t come back for another two hours after that, which is a good thing since that’s about how long it ends up taking Jack to calm himself down.

“Hey, what have you been up to?” Vaughn asks mid-fall into his bed. Jack responds by holding up the empty bottle of Jameson, faced pressed into his own pillow.

“The usual,” he mutters.

[rexhc]

canon thing ive been meaning to post about for like 3 months. timeline kinda iffy atm but beginning of dash and jack’s junior year

a tad nsfw just a warning

On any normal occasion, Dash would describe himself as pretty even tempered. He rarely, if ever, blows up at anyone, and he could probably count the number of arguments he’s been in this year on one hand - and it’s October. However, he realizes that every hero has its kryptonite and he’s pretty sure he’s found his own. Dash Knight’s kryptonite is Jack Costello.

Ever since they’d been partnered up in their elemental class, there’s been a pain in the center of Dash’s forehead no tylenol can get rid of. Jack Costello actively and purposely bothers, stresses out, and annoys Dash Knight to the point of literal misery. He’d even spoken to Professor Adki about it. That exchange resulted in nothing but a stern look and demand that he practice his skills on a separate element than his own. So he’s stuck with him. And he’s pretty sure his cholesterol has doubled in the past week.

So that’s how he ended up here, stuck in the gym at seven P.M., three and a half hours after classes ended, with none other than the guy whose yearbook award could be “most likely to fight a cop”. They’d gotten scolded in class for a “verbal disagreement” that ended with a gym mat in flames and were subsequently sentenced to four hours of additional sparring after classes. There were very little places Dash wanted to be less than here.

“You bounce around like a little girl,” Jack taunts, wiping sweat off his cheek with a balled fist. He’s significantly shorter than Dash, probably a good half foot at the very least. He’s also much skinnier; his narrow shoulders and twig-like arms made Dash look like a bodybuilder. If he wasn’t so irritating, Dash would probably be hesitant to throw anything his way. He looked like a single puff of air would knock him clean over.

Though, he must have more energy than it looks like, because Jack is still standing.

“It’s called staying on your toes. The way you’re standing you’ll never put up a good defense.”

“Oh golly, thanks for the advice, coach.”

“Would you just shut up?” It’s bad enough Dash was forced to spend time with the twerp, but he also was missing all remaining daylight, which meant he couldn’t bike into town to practice his batting at the little league diamond. His whole night is ruined thanks to Jack, who proceeds to spit on the floor and grin like an idiot.

“Why don’t you come over here and make me, Knight? Or are you just gonna spend the next hour jumping around swirling wind?” Dash isn’t exactly sure what compels him to actually cross the mat and grab his sparring partner by the collar of his shirt, but next thing he knows he is. Jack’s dopey smirk only gets wider. Smelling like sweat and smoke, the smaller boy’s skin radiates heat like a furnace. Dash’s hand starts to sweat just from being in such close proximity to him.

“What’s your fucking problem, Jack?”

“Woah, I didn’t know perfect Knight in Shining Armor knew a bad word.”

“You know I could beat you up right now? I’m easily twice your size.”

“Yeah, but you won’t, and you know that.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You’re Dash Knight, official golden boy of Empyrean Academy. You’re a teacher’s pet,” Jack makes a phony gag movement. “You’re the homecoming prince.” He gags more dramatically. “You practically have a fan club of future sorority sisters. Besides, you won’t hit me. And you know why.”

Jack hangs by his shirt for a moment as the taller student glares at him, eyes inches from each other. Dash isn’t sure if he’s about to shove him or hit him or what, when the dangling boy suddenly leans forward and mashes his lips against Dash’s.

It takes Dash a split second to recoil and shove Jack away from him. The sound of Jack’s back slamming against the gym mat echoes against the cement walls. Once the wind reenters Jack’s lungs, he bursts into laughter.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Dash yells at him, purposely keeping his distance. His lips are stinging and Dash realizes that Jack scalded him through his lips. He sucks them between his teeth slightly to cool them down.

Jack continues to crack up, sitting up in criss cross rocking side to side. Dash paces, and Jack’s voice comes in a slight chuckle. “I see the way you look at me in the locker room. Your eyes linger a bit too long for a straight boy, I would know.”

“You’re fucking crazy!” Dash hasn’t felt angrier in years. “I’m fucking straight!”

“Wow, you really love the F word, huh? This is truly a different side of you, Dash.”

“Just leave me alone.” Dash crosses his arms and storms off to the locker room to change back into his normal clothes. He’s been here long enough. If Professor Adki punishes him again on Thursday, it’s better than staying here alone with a lunatic. And as horrible as Jack is, Dash isn’t sure he’d fight someone so much physically smaller than him.

He rips off his shirt haphazardly. The quicker he’s out of this hellhole the better. His heart beats two hundred beats a minute and his blood feels like it’s almost at its boiling point. As he digs through his disaster of a locker, a hand reaches over to close it.

“We still have twenty five minutes left, you know? You wouldn’t want to get detention, would you?

“I’d take a week in hell over another minute with you.” Dash practically spits the words in his face, which is why Jack’s scalding hand on his side throws him so far off.

“Eh, I hear hell is overrated.”

Dash knows he sometimes makes snap decisions without giving any real thought first, and as he starts to shove the other boy harshly against the lockers, it’s pretty apparent this is one of those times. He barely even realizes that he’s sucking Jack Costello’s lower lip between his teeth until his sparring partner lets out a slight moan against Dash’s mouth. His skinny arms are pinned against the cool metal by Dash’s, almost comically larger than Jack’s.

His mouth is practically painfully hot, and Dash is already dehydrated seven seconds in. It obviously doesn’t bother him enough to stop, because he continues to lean his body weight against Jack’s body, pressing him harder against the lockers. He kisses sloppy and messy. Dash honestly doesn’t know how the hell he’s keeping up with Jack, and even though he’s the one pinned against the lockers Dash knows he’s not in control here.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Jack breathes, wriggling out from under Dash’s weight. He maneuvers Dash into his own previous position. “I want to do something.”

Dash breathes heavily but doesn’t object as Jack sucks against Dash’s neck and moves his hands down his bare chest and into his mandatory shiny green gym shorts. His hand burns against his skin, but Dash is surprised to not flinch. It’s a good kind of burn, like a hot shower after day in the snow.

As Jack continues to move his hands under Dash’s waistband, Dash’s breathing comes faster and harder than before. His sparring partner continues to suck at his jawline and neck, and even though Dash knows it’s gonna leave a mark he can’t find the composure to care at the moment.

When he finishes, he moans, his head falling down quickly onto Jack’s shoulder. He’s still in Jack’s warm hands as he softens, falling back against the lockers.

“God,” is all Dash can say, eyes closed and feeling much sweatier and exhausted than any other time he’d left elemental.

Jack’s hand abandons Dash’s shorts to accompany Jack as he returns to his own locker. He quickly strips off his EA athletic shirt and green shorts in favor for a black hoodie and dark wash jeans. Dash, now slumped on the ground, watches him as his musses up his thick black hair in the reflection of the mirror. Jack had been right about Dash watching him in the locker room, it just took until just now for Dash to actually realize he’d been doing that. He’ll admit it, he’s pretty ashamed it took a locker room handjob for him to notice it.

“Well,” Jack starts as he slips back on his wristwatch, “it looks like it’s seven thirty. Our sentence is complete.” He strolls over to the door of the locker room as Dash stares at him.

Dash’s mouth is dry but somehow he speaks. “Wait.”

“Okay, what?”

“I’m not gay.”

“Okay, sure. I’ll see you Thursday.” Jack says, laughing as he pushes through the door, leaving Dash sitting shirtless on the floor in his gym shorts.