#//definitely did look better before i butchered all the seams but oh well

[mechahero]

//toying around with design inspo junk shoved underneath read more

tbh trying to do the usual thick black lines for all of lambda’s seams was a mistake cause now it looks weird and i don’t like how that turned out

[cavalierious-whim]

It's been five years since they last saw each other, and Felix is back in Sylvain's arms.

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This time I'm dealing up a huge, heaping portion of porn with feels. Read here on AO3 for better quality, and follow me here on Twitter!

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Their first kiss is an aggressive thing, full of teeth. Felix nips at Sylvain’s mouth, biting at him to stake his claim, not that he needs to. Felix has held Sylvain’s heart in his hands since he was wearing diapers. Since they started fighting with wooden swords. Since Glenn died and all they had was each other.

Even when they didn’t.

Sylvain can barely believe that this is happening, that Felix is right here, alive and well at his fingertips. “Wait,” he says breathlessly. He pulls away to press their foreheads together instead, eyes slipping closed as he just relishes the closeness of Felix.

Five years, since Garreg Mach fell. The Blue Lions scattered. Sylvain went back to the only place where he meant anything-- the bitter and cold home that he hates. Felix did what he always does, which was whatever the fuck he wanted. He and Sylvain shared letters for a brief time, but then they stopped coming.

Sylvain wasn’t surprised. Expected it. Felix is a lone wolf; an angry change that was tattooed into his bones in the wake of Glenn’s death. Thinks he’s better off alone because he’s only a bother to everyone else. Honestly, the letters that Sylvain has tucked away in the bottom right drawer of his desk were more than he ever expected.

He didn’t think they’d see each other again, old promises be damned.

“You’re here,” says Sylvain quietly. His lips tremble against the skin of Felix’s forehead. “Goddess, Felix, you actually came back.”

Felix grips Sylvain by the jaw, thumbing over his cheekbones, a reminder that he’s solid and that he’s real. “Idiot,” he says with a scoff as he holds him there. Felix’s typical brand of affection. Sylvain wants to cry at the insult. Even though they’re older, they aren’t much different. Years have passed and Felix is still Felix.

And Sylvain’s still Sylvain, relishing in something as simple as a crumb of notice from Felix. He reaches out and grabs a loose lock of Felix’s hair. “Who cut this?” he asks. “A butcher?”

“Myself,” says Felix with a huff.

Sylvain wonders if he did it with his sword.“It’s terrible.”

“It’s enough.” Felix pauses, reaching up to smooth a hand through Sylvain’s hair, his fingers tugging at auburn curls. “And what about you? You look like an overgrown dog.”

Sylvain laughs. Presses a kiss to the side of Felix’s temple. Plays with his hair more. Felix lets him take his time, nails scratching against Sylvain’s scalp. Sylvain likes when he’s soft like this. Caring, almost.

It won’t last long because Felix is also impatient. And sure enough, he tugs at Sylvain’s shirt shortly after, pulling it from his trousers.

Their second kiss is slower and sweeter, languid in its touch. The kind of kiss that leads to swooning and tingles in the limbs. Felix pulls Sylvain’s face down to his and tips it at an angle, sliding his tongue in.

Sylvain moans into his mouth, losing his breath. Nearly loses his footing because he can barely stand straight. Nearly loses his mind because he’s so consumed with his want for Felix.

And Felix knows. He isn’t stupid. He pulls back with a smirk, licking at his lips as he watches Sylvain. “Haven’t changed, have you?” he asks him.

“Not much,” says Sylvain. “Only a little taller. Definitely not wiser.”

“Clearly, as I’m not in your bed yet. We’re still standing out here by the fire. Still fully clothed. I’m still in my boots. ”

Sylvain can hear the lighthearted accusation in the tone. Were they younger, Felix would already be stark naked and writhing in his sheets. Sylvain would already be fucking him on his fingers, quickly and efficiently with a clear goal in sight.

Not now, thinks Sylvain, reaching out to run his thumb over Felix’s spit-slick lips. “Slower,” he says to Felix, murmuring the soft word near the juncture of his neck and ear before he presses a kiss there.

“You’re supposed to be the insatiable one,” says Felix.

“Oh, I am,” says Sylvain. “Utterly ravenous, as always when it comes to you, which is why I want to take my time. Pick you apart slowly. Remembering exactly how this feels.”

“Like you’ve forgotten,” says Felix, a little breathless. Not unaffected by his words, judging by his pink cheeks and the way that he watches Sylvain.

Sylvain smiles at Felix before leaning close again to suck a mark into his neck. “Never,” says Sylvain, tracing the touch with his tongue, nibbling at the soft skin just under Felix’s ear. “Couldn’t possibly. Felix, you haunt even the most mundane of my dreams.”

“Have you had a lot of those?”

Sylvain pulls back, flashing him a dangerous grin. “Hundreds, I’m sure,” he says. “Once a day, once a night, the hours in between--”

“Far too much,” says Felix, tutting slightly. “Can’t be healthy.”

Sylvain’s hands find Felix’s waist, finally pulling him closer, finally pressing their hips together. It isn’t much friction, but it’s enough to tease. Enough to feel Felix’s cock, half-hard in his trousers.

“You always take too long.” Felix’s tone is biting, but not unkind.

“Then do something about it,” says Sylvain, his thumbs skimming over the coarse fabric of Felix’s jacket.

Felix does. Slips his hand into the loosened collar of Sylvain’s shirt, fingers sliding over his collarbone. “Insufferable,” he says as he smooths his hand down Sylvain’s front. “How handsome you still are.”

Sylvain raises an eyebrow. “Did you think I wouldn’t be?” Felix doesn’t answer, only rolls his eyes instead. “Come on,” continues Sylvain, “You missed me.”

Instead of giving Sylvain the satisfaction of an agreement, Felix’s fingers find the opening of Sylvain’s trousers and tugs them open. Slips them off easily, leaving Sylvain in nothing but his underthings and shirt. Then Felix cups his cock, palming him gently over the cotton, staring at it hungrily.

“I missed this,” he finally says. “Nothing else can quite compare.”

Sylvain’s breath hitches, but he manages to reach out and tug on a lock of Felix’s hair. “Don’t talk about other men.” Because really, how rude. Sylvain hasn’t slept with anyone else in the five years they’ve been separated. Didn’t even dream of it. His only intimate acquaintance has been his hand, and not even frequently at that.

War takes a toll on even the horniest of people.

He expects Felix to have some sort of snippy comeback. Felix doesn’t. Just looks at Sylvain severely and then says, very quietly, “There haven’t been others.”

Sylvain’s mouth snaps shut. His throat goes dry. His cock hardens fully in Felix’s hold.

It’s a matter of moments before Felix leads him from the room and they find the bed. Everything’s slower now, the tone having shifted. They’re still desperate, each burning to feel the touch of the other, but Felix’s soft confession has turned everything upside down.

Sylvain hoped, of course. Prayed that their prewar tryst had been something of value, something more than just quick fucks to break the monotony. They’d never really talked about it. Then the war came and the Blue Lions scattered, and Felix was off in the wind.

It’s as good a confirmation as Sylvain’ll ever get. And he knows it isn’t a lie; if Felix had fucked around, he’d definitely throw it back in his face as a tease.

Felix removes his jacket and then presses Sylvain into the bed, hovering over him. Rucks up Sylvain’s shirt and drags his fingers through the hills and valleys of Sylvain’s abs. Felix’s eyes are slightly dazed, lips swollen and pink from their earlier kisses, hair mussed.

“Beautiful,” says Sylvain, watching him back.

Usually, Felix would scoff at such a thing, but this time, his expression turns soft. His tongue dips out to lick at his lips, and Sylvain’s throat goes dry. He’s painfully hard in his smalls. Felix is too, he can see the tented outline of his cock against the seam of his trousers.

Sylvain grabs him by the hips and guides their crotches together, seeking out any friction that he can get. It’s something at least, the electric-hot tingles of pleasure that press along his spine. Felix moans, hips moving against Sylvain's, fingers reaching down to press against his collar again.

Felix’s fingernails are sharp against Sylvain’s skin as they scratch through his chest hair. The hard line of Felix’s cock is blissful against his own. But it isn’t enough, it’s never enough he feels. Wasn’t before the war, still isn’t now. Sylvain could drown in the well of affection that Felix gives him, and he’d still want more.

“You know that I love you, right?” asks Sylvain quietly. His words are barely a whisper. It’s enough for Felix to pause above him, highly alert. Sylvain’s never said such a thing to anyone, let alone Felix, but it’s too late to take the words back now.

Then, Felix leans over, grasping Sylvain’s face between his hands, thumbing over the high arcs of his cheekbones. Their lips are so close, just barely breaths away.

“You have to,” says Sylvain, a hint of nervousness in his voice, worried that he’s crossed the line they both carefully toe. “Surely you do.”

Felix kisses him like he’s never kissed him before; full of want and need, searching with its cresting passion. He licks across Sylvain’s lips, asking for him to open up. Sylvain does and Felix all but devours him, moaning against his mouth, trying to make up for all the time they’ve lost.

Sylvain scrambles against him, reaching up to change the angle of their kiss. His thumb sneaks across Felix’s pulse at his neck, feeling its steady beat, the thud thud of it against his fingertips. “Goddess, I love you so much,” he whispers, the words tattooed against Felix’s lips.

Felix swallows thickly. Hovers over Sylvain stock still. Then he says, “You talk too much.” But his tone is fond and lacks any annoyance, and Sylvain chuckles lightly before pulling him back down.

One of Sylvain’s hands moves to grab Felix’s ass, pulling him forward again. Sylvain’s impatient. Wants to get his hands in Felix’s pants, wants to feel his plush ass as they grind their cocks together.

Felix is impatient too, grunting as he shifts his weight. Sylvain whines when he leans back. Stops when Felix pulls off his shirt. Sylvain loses his breath as his hands skim Felix’s waist and hips. He fingers over scars, some faded with age, others pink and new.

One still stitched up and terribly so.

“Don’t mind it,” says Felix, watching Sylvain’s gaze pause on it. “It barely hurts. Nearly healed.”

“Felix--”

“It’s not important.” Felix’s hands are on Sylvain again as he settles over him properly, straddling Sylvain’s crotch. Felix’s fingers smooth over Sylvain’s front, tugging at the material of his shirt. “You aren’t naked enough.”

“Felix,” Sylvain tries again, but Felix ignores him, yanking at his shirt, trying to pull it over his head. Sylvain grabs him by the wrists and looks at him. And then, Felix finally meets Sylvain’s face, his cheeks tinged pink and breathless.

Felix isn’t good with words, but he’s good with actions. Everything that he does is carefully placed. Like right now, with the way that he caresses Sylvain like he’s a precious treasure. Sylvain knows, doesn’t need to be told.

“I don’t expect you to say it back,” says Sylvain finally, pulling Felix’s knuckles to his mouth for a kiss. “But it needed to be said.”

“Dimwit,” says Felix, but he doesn’t expound upon the thought. “Absolute dolt. You-- You’re different . I don’t just ask anyone--”

“Felix, I know.” Sylvain laughs against Felix’s fingers, kissing them again. Then he lifts from the bed to pull off his shirt. Felix’s hands are on him the moment he’s settled back against the mattress.

He’s looking at Sylvain again with that serious expression, his lip tucked between his teeth. Felix’s fingers trace the scars that he’s gained over the last half-decade.

“What are you thinking?” asks Sylvain.

“I could have prevented these,” says Felix, “Had I been there. Instead, I left.”

“No doubt doing valiant things, I’m sure.”

Felix’s expression is pinched. “I ran away.”

“Everyone wanted to run away from the war.”

“Not from the war,” says Felix so quietly that Sylvain barely hears it. The from you is heavily implied.

Sylvain reaches up and smooths his hand over Felix’s hair. Pulls out the tie that holds it in place and when the strands are free, he combs through them. It’s a soft touch that’s different from the fervent need they’d just had, but Felix sinks into it, his eyes closing as he sighs.

“We’re together now,” says Sylvain. “You’ve come back to me.” Felix’s fingers are rough and calloused, but the skin of his side is soft to the touch. Sylvain’s hand slides along the smooth expanse of it.

“You still aren’t naked enough,” says Felix, his tone a smidge irate now, looking down at Sylvain’s underthings like they offend him.

“More naked than you,” says Sylvain. His hand finds Felix’s cock, fondling him over the rough material of his trousers. Felix huffs as he reaches down to undo them. Does his best to kick them off as quickly as possible.

His smalls go as well, and Sylvain follows suit, shimmying out of the last of his clothes. The socks stay on. Felix sneers slightly but doesn’t say anything because his need for Sylvain transcends his hobby of teasing him.

Sylvain stares again, eyes raking over Felix’s form. Felix has always been lithe and supple. Smaller than most, but no less powerful. But now he’s something else; all defined thighs with a well-formed ass. Harshly-cut hips and just this side of scrawny because he hasn’t eaten well.

None of them have, not really.

To Sylvain though, he’s more handsome than ever. Gruff with a hint of stubble because it’s late in the day and Felix has been on the road. And now this.

Felix climbs back over him, their legs slotting together like it was meant to be. Like they’ve never been separated. Sylvain finally touches him, curling his fingers around Felix’s warm length.

“Shit,” murmurs Felix, already arching against the touch, seeking out more.

Felix’s cock is heavy in Sylvain’s hand, hard and throbbing. He traces the vein along the underside with his thumb, then palms the crown of Felix’s cock with a simple twist. And Felix reacts the way he expects, hushed murmurs as he bites at his lip; quiet expletives as his fingers dig into the meat of Sylvain’s thigh.

Nothing’s changed.

“Oil,” says Felix, leaning over to root around in Sylvain’s bedside table.

“Not yet,” says Sylvain, enjoying his slow exploration way too much. Counting Felix’s new scars. Mapping out the way that his muscles now bend and curve. “Let’s take our time.”

“This won’t last long if you keep at it,” says Felix, his voice a little breathless and his face screwed shut tight. He claws at Sylvain’s thigh again.

“Oh,” says Sylvain in quiet marvel. “Already there, huh?”

“Shut up,” says Felix tersely.

Sylvain sits up and Felix moans as their cocks slide together. Felix’s dick is leaking precome, making a sticky mess, and Sylvain wishes he could lick it right up. Felix wants other things, though, and he’s willing to compromise. He finds a bottle of oil in the bed, underneath a spare pillow.

“Really? In the bed?”

“Where’d you think?” ask Sylvain. Felix leans closer, framing Sylvain’s head with his elbows. His hair falls around them in a curtain as he offers Sylvain a soft little smile, the barest crack in his ornery facade. “Sometimes spit just isn’t enough, you know. Sometimes, on my loneliest nights, I have to slick everything up and pretend that my hand is you.”

Felix’s breath catches and his eyes turn half-lidded and hazy with want. “Only me,” he says.

“Always,” says Sylvain, enraptured by the sight, everything that he feels pooling deep in his gut. He’s quick to uncork the bottle and slather his fingers in oil. He’s quicker to reach around Felix’s ass, fingers slipping between his crack.

Sylvain’s cock is hard against Felix’s thigh, leaking pathetically as his finger circles around Felix’s hole, just barely pressing against it.

“Sylvain,” murmurs Felix, pressing his face into Sylvain’s neck, nosing at the soft skin there.

“Five years,” says Sylvain as he slips the finger in, slowly but surely. “Since anyone else has taken care of you.” Felix moans against him, his breath heavy near Sylvain’s ear. He sucks a mark into the skin just under it.

Sylvain knows Felix will get annoyed if he takes too long, so he sets to work, pressing in to the knuckle. He works quickly, his touch simple and practiced. Then, Sylvain presses in a second, widening the stretch, pulling at Felix’s rim slightly when he spreads his fingers.

“Fuck,” says Felix, the words tucked against Sylvain’s jaw. His breath is hot, coming up in stilted puffs up as Felix slowly loses his carefully held control. He presses back against Sylvain’s fingers as he leans forward to latch against his skin once more.

And Sylvain wants to be marked up, wants everyone to see just who he belongs to, and he groans at the thought. He tells him so, soft words murmured into Felix’s ear as his fingers stretch him with an expert touch.

“Surely you did this to yourself,” murmurs Sylvain, his voice low and husky with lust. “Alone in your tent, or maybe underneath the stars. Crying out as you thought of me.”

Felix doesn’t need to say it, Sylvain knows he’s hit the mark when his ass clamps down on his fingers. Then Felix cries out as a third finger’s slipped in, alongside the others. He pulls back, sitting up straight, pressing right down on Sylvain’s hand.

Fucks himself against Sylvain’s fingers the best that he can. Felix is flushed down to his breastbone, his chest shaking with every stuttered breath.

“Look at you,” says Sylvain, scissoring into him with a little more force, pressing around to try and find Felix’s prostate.

He does, of course. Masterfully so. Felix cries out and grinds against Sylvain’s hand. When he reaches for his cock, Sylvain grabs his wrist. “No, not yet,” he says.

Felix snarls in response.

“I want you to come,” says Sylvain, “But only around my cock. It’s been too long, Felix, don’t deny me that.”

“You’re taking too long, you annoying fuck,” says Felix in return, pulling off of Sylvain’s fingers. He’s slightly agitated as he grabs the bottle of oil. “Too busy talking than to getting to the part that we both really want.”

He pours the oil into his palm then grabs Sylvain’s cock. Sylvain hisses in surprise as Felix slicks him up, squeezing him tightly. Tugs at Sylvain’s length, thumbing over the slit. Sylvain keens at the touch.

“But, if you must know,” says Felix, just a little bit softer this time, his abrasive tone melting ever so slightly. He lets go of Sylvain’s cock and rearranges himself, hovering over it. Presses Sylvain’s dick against his ready hole. “Yes, I fucked myself on my fingers, and no, it wasn’t ever good enough. Not when you were all I ever thought about, and of course, this.”

Felix eases down onto Sylvain’s cock, and Sylvain’s pretty sure he’s going to die. It’s tight-- almost too tight-- and hot. Sylvain’s dick is going to burn alive, he thinks, his hand scrabbling against Felix’s hips.

“Felix--”

“ Sylvain,” moans Felix, his head tipping back as his eyes slipped closed. He bites at his lip as he slides down and down. Then Sylvain bottoms out, Felix’s ass flush with Sylvain’s hips. Sylvain’s fingernails bite deeply into Felix’s skin.

“Goddess,” says Sylvain, the words feeling like they’ve been punched from his gut.

Felix doesn’t move. Not immediately. He grinds his ass down as he watches Sylvain, but remains frustratingly still aside from that. His hands roam across Sylvain’s chest, fingers circling his nipples. Scratching through his chest hair. Smoothing over his collarbone.

“Missed this,” says Felix softly. Vulnerably, his expression soft in such a rare form.

He doesn’t mean the sex, Felix means everything else; everything that lies between them, those feelings that were so carefully tucked away. The tender expression that’s taken root on Felix’s face, Sylvain can come from just the sight of that alone, he thinks. The sound of Felix losing himself to his feelings, a momentary lapse in his carefully honed demeanor.

Sylvain reaches up to tuck a loose strand of Felix’s hair behind his ear. His thumb slides down Felix’s cheek and then across his lips. Felix nips at it, biting down softly, his tongue circling the pad of Sylvain’s thumb, and the delicate moment dissolves into something more sultry.

Felix raises his hips and slides back down, and Sylvain lets out a choked noise that most would be embarrassed about. But Felix smiles at him, a cruel little smirk as he anchors a hand against Sylvain’s chest to brace himself, and all Sylvain wants to do is make the sound again and again.

Sylvain grabs him by the ass. Helps Felix along as he rises up and down, riding him. Felix’s thighs tremble over and around Sylvain, strained as he moves. His cock is fully hard, dribbling precome, bobbing up and down with every movement.

It’s a haunting thing, really. Entirely enchanting. Sylvain could watch him for hours, days, even weeks like this. Settled over him, Felix’s ass slicked and stretched around his cock. Tight and warm as he pulls in Sylvain like he belongs there.

He isn’t going to last long, and neither is Felix; it’s been too long for the both of them, and now it’s been saddled with feelings that spur them on. Sylvain’s desperate to lose himself entirely in the heat and depth of Felix.

Sylvain plants his feet on the mattress and the angle changes. Felix lets out a harsh and biting curse, shooting Sylvain a dirty glance, entirely debauched, his face ruddy with wanton abandon. Sylvain loves this, loves everything about him.

Even the dumb way that Felix had been so afraid to commit, leading him to fucking off.

Felix watches Sylvain from above as he moves. Meets every one of Sylvain’s thrusts with the perfect angle. “Sylvain,” says Felix, his tongue tripping over his name, his voice pitching higher and higher with every breath and moan.

“You’ll stay,” says Sylvain, reaching out to grasp at Felix’s cock. The moment that his fingers curl around the head, Felix’s ass tightens around Sylvain, holding him in a vice grip. It wasn’t a question. “Felix, you’ll--”

“Yes, you imbecile,” cuts in Felix, reaching out to grasp at Sylvain’s free hand. He sounds harsh and biting, but threads their fingers together as he pulls Sylvain’s hand close to his heart and holds it there. Felix rides Sylvain faster, the rising and falling of his hips starting to lose their steady rhythm. Every downstroke has weight behind it as Felix grinds onto Sylvain’s cock like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. “As if it weren’t obvious-- Fuck.”

Felix comes first, Sylvain’s cock pressed into him as deep as it can go. Sylvain strokes Felix’s cock fast and hard, milking him for all he has. Felix comes all over his hand, whining at the oversensitive touch, but still craving more.

Sylvain gives it to him; he ruts into Felix with hard, punctuated movements. Tips over the edge almost immediately, coming deep into Felix’s ass. Sylvain can’t even think straight or form words. Knows nothing aside from the sight of Felix over him, shuddering as he rides out the last of his orgasm.

It takes a long time to come down from it all. Felix winces slightly as he pulls off, Sylvain’s softened cock slipping from his ass with a wet sound. They’re too tired to get up and clean properly, so Sylvain wipes them down with his discarded shirt.

Felix is quiet in the aftermath. He always was before, so it’s no surprise. But then he shuffles closer, waiting. Sylvain looks at him then holds his arm out wide and inviting. When Felix presses into his side, it’s like Sylvain knows that he belongs there. That they were meant to be.

Sylvain turns his head, pressing a kiss to Felix’s sweaty forehead. Combs his fingers through his damp and tangled hair.

“I love you,” says Felix quietly into the night calm. Sylvain’s caresses pause. Then Felix snorts, a soft little thing. “But you knew that.”

“Yeah,” says Sylvain, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

“It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be with you.” Felix sounds tired and sleepy. Dips slightly against Sylvain as he mumbles on. “Didn’t want to ruin it all. I’d only fuck it up.”

Sylvain traces soft circles against the back of Felix’s neck. “Yeah, well, same,” he says with a soft chuckle.

“We’re a mess,” mumbles Felix.

“Yeah.”

“There’s a war. It’s a terrible time to be in love.”

Sylvain thinks it’s probably the best time to be in love. War is a terrible thing full of death and decay. The idea that there might be someone waiting for him at the end of it all makes the journey worth it. So he tells him that. Brands his love right into Felix’s skin, kissing him softly as he whispers.

Felix murmurs something nonsensical which makes Sylvain chuckle, then his breathing evens out as he falls asleep.

They never stayed over before, never slept in each other’s arms. Felix is nestled into his side, and Sylvain marvels at how natural it feels. Felix’s face pressed against his chest, arm draped over Sylvain’s waist like an anchor.

There will be talk, of course. They’ll never hear the end of it from the others. Byleth will harp about unneeded distractions during the war , Ingrid will likely shoot them mean and obscene gestures, and Sylvain can’t begin to fathom how Dimitri will react.

But he doesn’t care. Felix won’t either. This is all Sylvain ever wanted and he refuses to let it go now.

Felix murmurs again, a soft little sigh and a string of sounds. Sylvain smiles as he brushes back his bangs and just watches. Felix has never looked so calm and peaceful, the permanent line is his brow softened.

Tomorrow’s another day. At least this time, there’s a reason to keep on living.

[seasonsofeverlark]

Fallen

Author: @hutchhitched​

Prompt: How about Katniss taking Peeta to the forest during the fall for the first time to see all of the fall colors. [submitted by anonymous]

Rating: T for suggestive language

Author’s note: Some of you may notice this is the second story for this prompt. During the selection process, @mega-aulover​ and I both fell in love with this prompt, and she very generously allowed me to write another version. Thank you for sharing with me! I was able to travel home a couple of weeks ago for the first time in the fall in a number of years. Although the trees had just started to turn, it was a lovely opportunity to remember what it’s like to live in the land of four seasons. This is my love letter to that.

__________

“Are you sure you want me to go with you?” Peeta asked for what must have been the hundredth time. I was getting really tired of reassuring him, but it was also adorable how insecure he was about the trip. “I mean, we only just started dating. Meeting your family so soon is a little bit… I don’t know. Quick?”

I shook my head and grinned at him. His blue eyes held a hint of panic. It only served to make him more endearing. Stepping close to him, I threaded my fingers through his hair and pulled his face down to mine. Instead of answering, I pressed my lips to his, and our kiss devolved into a tangle of tongues and lips and limbs. Breathy moans and soft whimpers and catching breath and want.

I couldn’t remember how long it’d been since my body yearned for someone else, how many months had passed since I woke up with a smile on my face and the anticipation of greeting someone with a kiss over an early morning coffee. It felt like years, but that loneliness faded when I met Peeta Mellark. Sure, it had only been a few months since our first date, but we’d both fallen hard. Not surprisingly, he was more open about his feelings. I hemmed and hawed and tried to pretend my whole world hadn’t rotated right off its axis for another week before I admitted to myself how much I wanted to crawl inside him and live there. Not in a creepy way, of course.

I broke our kiss and relished in the touch of his forehead against mine. “You don’t have to come,” I whispered, hoping against hope that he’d see through my projected confidence. I wanted him there so badly. I needed him to see where I came from and understand my hang-ups and quirks.

Peeta tilted my head up so he could catch my gaze with his. He searched my eyes for several seconds before rubbing his thumb across my cheekbone. “No,” he answered softly. “No, I want to go with you.”

My head nestled in the crook of his neck, and I released a relieved sigh. “You sure?”

“You promised me leaves,” he murmured against my temple as his arms tightened around me. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do,” he insisted. “I told you I’d come, and then I tried to bail on you at the last minute. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I left you hanging?”

“The worst kind.”

“Oh, that bad, huh?” he chuckled, and I grinned at him.

“The kind that needs to be punished,” I whispered into his ear.

“Oh, yeah. That kind. Are you going to spank me?”

“Absolutely, and you better return the favor.”

God help me. He definitely did.

__________

“You know,” I hissed as I settled into the driver’s seat, “it was fairly stupid of us to give each other sore asses the night before a road trip.”

Peeta shifted gingerly, and I chuckled at the pink hue flushing his cheeks. He’d been a champ as I’d spanked his perfectly rounded cheeks until they were rosy and warm. His willingness to shift over control in bed to me wasn’t something I was used to in a partner, but he made it easy to enjoy when he squirmed and moaned and begged. Truth be told, I loved it, especially because he was equally eager to turn the tables and take charge.

“Maybe stupid,” he grunted as he wiggled until he found a comfortable position. “Maybe just really good sex.”

“Yeah,” I murmured as he wrapped his hand around my thigh. Shifting into reverse, I leaned over to kiss him before easing off the brake and backing out of my driveway. “It’ll have to hold us for a while. Privacy isn’t exactly how it works when I head home.”

His fingers tightened on my leg, and I grinned as his thumb stroked higher and higher. “I’m sure we’ll manage,” he said softly as he grazed his thumb against the seam in my jeans. “Thank you for asking me to come with you.”

“Well, I can’t believe you haven’t ever seen fall leaves in person. I mean…”

He watched as I steered the car onto the entrance ramp and headed north on the interstate. “When was that supposed to happen, sweetheart?” he asked. “I’ve lived in the south my entire life.”

“But don’t you take vacations?”

“Well, sure, but not in the fall. School and then work and just— I don’t know. We went to Orlando and the beach and stuff like that. Normal things.”

“Normal,” I scoffed. “Ah, to live in a world where going to Disneyworld is normal. That takes money, and we never really had a lot of that.”

“No, you had something better,” he answered, bitterness just creeping into his voice. “I would have traded every Mickey sighting for a relationship with my brothers like you have with Prim. And my parents are just—”

Peeta didn’t finish, Instead, he tilted his head against the car window and closed his eyes. I didn’t know what to say to make him feel better. I couldn’t understand what it was like to grow up with things instead of relationships, so I didn’t try to pretend I did. All I could do was squeeze his hand as I steered into the left lane and pressed on the accelerator. The miles passed quickly as silence filled the car.

__________

“So, what is it you love about going home during the fall?” Peeta asked as I steered the car deftly around a sharp corner.

We’d long since left the interstate and were weaving along the state highway that would lead to the county paved road that turned into a country gravel road that led to the dirt road to my family’s homestead. I’d tried to explain to my boyfriend how remote the house I grew up in was, but he didn’t really seem to get it. He would soon enough.

“It’s the leaves,” I inhaled in an elongated breath and then released it in a blissful sigh. “I love them.”

Peeta hummed and glanced sideways at me. When he caught my eye, he rested his head against the back of the seat and treated me to a megawatt smile. “You love leaves?” he teased.

A goofy smile spread across my face, and I signaled to turn. “I really do. There’s no way to explain it, but I’m going to knock your socks off tomorrow morning.”

Peeta hummed and squeezed my thigh. “And here I thought we wouldn’t get any sexy times while we’re visiting your family.”

Laughing, I signaled and turned the car to the left into the driveway of my childhood home and shifted into park. “Finally. Home, sweet home.”

We’d been traveling all day—fifteen solid hours of driving with only a few gas and restroom breaks—and all I wanted to do was take a shower and climb into bed. When I looked at him, nervous and shy, I realized there was one more thing I needed to do before greeting my family.

Thankfully, he came willingly when I fisted his shirt and tugged him to me. Our lips rammed together, frantic and feral, before our tongues tangled and turned filthy. Heat flooded through me, molten and scorching, as involuntary whimpers and grunts tore from us both. The dark enveloped us, filling up the car and protecting us from curious glances from nosy family members. As his mouth met mine again, I calculated just how far we could go before I had to pull away and stop what was so good between us. I wasn’t always sure of social customs, but I knew riding Peeta like the purebred stallion he’d proven to be in the driveway wasn’t okay.

His hand cupped my breast and squeezed as he tilted his head to lick further into my mouth. The sticky wetness between my legs grew as my fingers tangled in his hair and tugged. The yelp he released caused my eyes to roll back in my head. I did it a second time, and his mouth fell open, yielding to my rough grip.

“Katniss,” he groaned, my name falling from his swollen lips.

I wanted him, then, more than I’d ever dreamed I could desire anyone, but we had to stop. It wasn’t a question of whether we wanted to or should, it was imperative. If we didn’t, I’d fall in love with him so much more than I already was, and I couldn’t risk that. Not yet. Not when it was all so new, and I feared another broken heart.

“Time to go in,” I announced in a hoarse whisper.

He closed his eyes, scrunching them in what was probably frustration, and gasped, “I need a minute.”

I couldn’t resist one last bit of torture and reached over to squeeze him firmly. He choked back a gasp as my palm pressed an intentional caress meant to remind him what his body craved. Hissing, he squirmed away, his back against the door, and his hands up in surrender.

“Don’t,” he begged, and I took pity on him.

“Butchering a deer. The feel of dough between your fingers when the yeast fails. Sourness in your stomach the morning after a drinking binge. Socks in the bottom of the laundry basket that have been balled up for weeks.”

He grimaced and shot me a half-smile. “That did it. Not hard at all anymore.”

We grabbed our bags and headed inside where Peeta charmed my family and chastely kissed me goodnight before settling into the guest room. I slipped into bed in my childhood room with a warm glow surrounding my heart. Despite my best intentions, I’d fallen for Peeta Mellark.

__________

“Are you ready?” I asked, a timid smile stretching my lips.

Peeta slipped his arm around my waist and hugged me to him. I knew he would love the autumn leaves, which I kept trying to convince myself was the real reason I’d asked him to come home with me, but really, I just wanted him near me.

“Take me to the woods. Take me forth into the wilds of the world. Just don’t leave me there alone.”

“Okay, overdramatic one,” I teased with an eye roll. “Grab that basket, and let’s do it.”

We walked out the door, and he released a soft gasp of approval. The ash tree in the front yard was in rare form with the outside leaves a purplish-red and fading to orange and then yellow closest to the trunk. Those had always been my favorite, and we took a moment to appreciate it before I tugged his hand and led him to the gate that allowed us access to the forest.

“This is beautiful,” he observed in hushed whispers, like the world around him was a magical land he was afraid to disturb with loud noises. “This is just— I don’t have words.”

“You don’t need words,” I murmured, disturbingly enamored with the sparkle in his eyes and the sheer wonderment on his face. “You don’t need words because you have your art.”

He turned to me then, his face alight with wonder. He was a miracle in that moment—adorable and bemused and so excited he wriggled like a puppy. It was no wonder my heart was already his, why I’d fallen for him after only a few months. He was as close to perfect as anyone I’d ever met, and I wasn’t nearly good enough for him. But I wanted to be. I wanted to be everything he’d ever needed and desired, if only he’d allow it.

“You’re beautiful,” he complimented me sweetly, and I ducked my head to blush.

“Come on,” I said, grabbing his hand and tugging him along behind me. “There’s a clearing I have in mind. I used to spend a lot of time there with Prim when I was growing up. The leaves there are gorgeous.”

I moved through the underbrush fairly quietly, but Peeta stumbled a few times, kicking up leaves and sticks and making so much noise the birds scolded us as we passed. He was a trooper, though, his presence steady and sure beside me as we passed through the trees that eventually opened up into a clearing with a brook that flowed from a light blue, spring-fed pool. The massive oak tree that had stood for decades had blown over when I was in high school, and it rested there, a fallen log perfect for spreading the blanket and relaxing onto its sturdy seat. It winked an invitation, and we accepted.

Clearly delighted, Peeta’s eyes sparkled when I reached into the basket we’d brought and produced a thermos of cider. Steam rose into the crisp air, and we sipped quietly until he asked me, “So, what kinds of trees are these?”

I took a sip and waved around me. “The yellow are shag-bark hickory and elm. I like the hickory better. The yellow’s a little brighter. The orange are mostly sugar maples. Completely gorgeous. The red trees are both maple and oak. The brown-ish red ones are pin oaks. My favorite, though, is the purple ash. There’s one in the yard. It’s the one that’s purple on the outside and yellow on the inside so it looks like the whole tree is hombre.”

“I had no idea,” he murmured. “No idea trees could look like this. I mean, I’ve seen pictures and movies, but that pales in comparison to an actual in-person tour. I wish I had my oils. I’d paint the hell out of this.”

“Will pictures work? That seems a lot more practical than hauling your stuff across state lines and into the woods,” I teased. I understood his desire, but both of us were more pragmatic than that.

“They’ll have to, won’t they?”

He softened his retort with a shoulder nudge and smile, and my heart flipped at the affection shining in his eyes.

“I can’t wait to see what you paint once we get back home. They’re going to be…” I searched for a word, but the only one that seemed to do his artwork justice was almost over the top if it wasn’t also true. “…transcendent. You transport me with your paintings.”

He kissed me then, cradled my cheeks in his palms and turned up my face to seek my lips with his. I could almost picture us in my mind—Peeta strong and protective with ashy blonde waves topping a stocky figure draped in denim and dark green flannel wrapped around a smaller figure in aqua and orange fleece and rugged boots. He twined my braid around his palm and nudged my mouth open to sweep inside.

I swallowed his groan and matched it with my own. The mid-morning light slanted through the trees and danced on the underbrush and our shoulders. He smelled like fresh air and cinnamon, and I wanted to subsist on only that forever.

Peeta finally broke the kiss, although he only pulled back enough to lean his forehead against mine. His thumb stroked my cheekbone, and he closed his eyes briefly before locking his gaze to mine. A cloud passed over the sun, and I shivered. It felt momentous, like something was about to happen. The grove had become a sacred space in that very moment.

“I love you,” he breathed against my cheek, and the sun burst from behind the cloud in approval. Sunlight washed over us, and I swallowed hard against the sudden lump in my throat. Stunned and speechless, my eyes widened and stomach rolled.

I wanted to respond, to say something—anything—that might make sense in what had become surreal and dreamlike. There was no way he’d actually announced what I thought I heard. He didn’t love me. I was convinced of that. We were dating, happy as a couple, but I was head over heels for him, and he couldn’t possibly feel the same. There was no way I was allowed to have that, that I could be so lucky and fortunate and blessed. I shivered and stepped back.

“W-what?”

My ears weren’t working properly. That was the only reasonable explanation. He considered me for a moment, his blue eyes darkened with apprehension, and his shoulders hunched slightly to protect himself. He held up his hands to indicate his willingness to let me question him and said it again.

“I love you, Katniss Everdeen.”

His words were soft but true, and I gaped at him. Red, orange, and yellow leaves fluttered above us in the wind, as if clapping in agreement, and I tasted his words on my own lips. They were sweet and tart at the same time.

“You love me?” I squeaked, completely unable to catch my breath. He gave me a soft smile and brushed stray hairs off my forehead where he dropped another kiss.

“I do,” he insisted, barely audible over the rustling leaves. “I know it’s quick, and you don’t have to say it back, but you should know. I love you, and I hope you’ll feel the same way about me in the future.”

I could hardly stand the hopefulness he displayed, could hardly bear to think about how selfless it was for him to offer me his heart when he had no idea mine had been his since the first time he’d made me laugh. Even before our first date, I knew he was something special and someone I wanted in my life forever, even if I didn’t want to admit it to myself.

“But I do!” I sputtered, blurting out my confession with so little finesse I’m surprised he didn’t leave me standing in the clearing by myself.

“You do?” His eyebrow seemed to question my declaration, but I threw myself at him in a very un-Katniss-like way.

“I really do,” I admitted, tears closing my throat. “I love you, too.”

The wind picked up then, swirling the branches and leaves into another chorus of applause. The sun sparkled and winked, and the clouds skipped across the sky like old friends. Peeta looked around us as a smile broke across his face. He tipped his head back and yelled into the morning.

“She loves me!” he shouted, and I burst into laughter. Relief and exuberance drifted on the breeze, and I leapt at him, wrapping my legs around his waist and clinging to his broad shoulders.

We kissed and cuddled for warmth on the blanket for hours as the sun reached its zenith and dropped in the west. Declarations of our undying affection gave way to mundane topics followed by plans for the future. It was too soon for an engagement, but I wasn’t looking for that anyway. I only wanted to explore this feeling, being in love with someone who adored me every bit as much as I did him.

Eventually, we made our way back to my childhood home, away from the log that had fallen for us as surely as we fell for each other. As we stepped from the forest, the gorgeous autumn leaves were surely cheering.

[starryknight09]

Burning love

Febuwhump Day 22: burned

Read on AO3.

________________________________________________________

Peter hadn’t been paying attention.  He knew better, but he’d been distracted thinking about the best way to ask MJ to the spring fling dance.  Even after Tony had harped on him over and over again about lab safety and always being careful and blah blah blah, which Peter thought was more than a little hypocritical because the other man was the antithesis of everything he preached about.

Regardless, one moment he’d been thinking about whether inviting MJ to the dance required flowers, and the next moment he forgot to move the hand holding together the two Ironman armor pieces so it accidentally got in the way of the welding torch he was using to meld the seam.  It happened so fast, for a split second Peter just froze in shock, staring at his damaged hand even though he couldn’t see much through his welding mask.  Then the pain hit him and he sucked in a sharp breath.  He fumbled with the blowtorch for a second before he managed to turn it off.  Flipping his safety mask up, he examined his hurt hand, no longer filtered through the mask’s lens shade.

“Oh shit.” He swore as soon as he noticed the streak of red blistering skin across the back of it.

“What?” Tony perked up from across the room.  Peter’s back was to him, so he couldn’t see what had happened.  “Did you screw something up?  You need some help?”

“Uh…no.  I’m uh I’m good.” He stumbled over the words because oh god ow his hand hurt.  He really wanted to run over to the sink and shove it under some cold water, but there was no way Tony wouldn’t notice that and he didn’t want him to know how stupid he’d been.  Tony would be pissed, and there was no reason the man needed to know when it should heal itself relatively quickly anyway.

“You sure?” Tony asked, only his voice came from much closer.  Peter put the torch down and turned around, careful to keep both hands behind his back while still trying to look casual.

“Yeah, I’m sure.  It’s fine.  Totally fine.”

“Uh huh.” Tony narrowed his eyes at him.  “You’re a terrible liar.”

Tony peered around him to look at the armor and Peter twisted so he stayed facing the man.

“See?  It’s fine.  I didn’t mess it up.” He said, voice tight because oh god oh god his hand his hand.  He’d been shot before and it hadn’t hurt this much.  What was it about burns that caused such exquisite pain?

When Tony didn’t find anything wrong with the armor he turned his gaze back on Peter, eyes narrowing as he studied him.

“Why are you sweating?”

“It’s hot in here.” He answered but it sounded more like a question.

“FRIDAY what’s the temperature in here?”

“It is currently 70 degrees Fahrenheit.” FRIDAY responded.

“Mmhmm so any clue why the spiderling here is sweating?”

His eyes widened.  

“I believe it is secondary to the burn he just sustained on his left hand.”

“FRIDAY!” Peter protested the snitching at the same time Tony snapped, “What?” and grabbed his arm, yanking it forward so his hand came into view.  The man swore as soon as he saw the burn and Peter’s face scrunched.  It looked even worse now than it had a minute ago.

“What happened?” Tony demanded even as he dragged him by the wrist over to the sink.

“It slipped.”

“It slipped?” Tony echoed in disbelief as he guided Peter’s hand under the stream of cold water.  Even though the coolness helped, the pressure from the water hurt.  He grit his teeth.  Ow.  Ow.  Ow.

“How did it slip?” Tony asked.  “Aren’t your spidey powers supposed to keep these kinds of things from happening?”

Peter frowned.  Was he talking about his spidey sense?  “Um no.  I mean if some bad guy’s shooting at me then yeah, it’ll warn me, but it doesn’t warn me from myself because I’m not a bad guy.”

“That makes no sense.” Tony shook his head as he brought Peter’s hand out from under the faucet to look at it for a few seconds before shoving it back under again.

Peter winced and tried to explain, “Um it like senses intent?  So if someone wants to hurt me and then they try to it’ll warn me, but I didn’t want to hurt myself, I didn’t have any bad intent, so it didn’t warn me.  Does that make more sense?”

“No.  It should warn you either way.”

“Well, I mean yeah, that’d be nice, but it doesn’t.”

Tony huffed and pulled his hand out from the water again, turning off the faucet.  “Come on let’s get you to the medbay.”

“Oh.  No.  I don’t need the medbay.  We can just leave it.  It’ll heal in a day or so.” He protested even as Tony dragged him to the door.

“Yeah that’s going to be a big fat no.” Tony shook his head.  “We’re going to get this taken care of.”

Peter groaned.

**********

“So what are we dealing with here doc?  Is he going to be able to keep his hand?” Tony joked as Dr. Cho finished examining the burn.

“It’s a second degree burn.” Dr. Cho explained.  “But it’s over a relatively small area.  With his healing powers it should be completely fine in a couple days.”

“I told you.” Peter complained.

“I’ll put some burn salve on it and wrap it.” Dr. Cho said as she started gathering the necessary supplies from the cart next to the bed.  “I imagine it hurts, so once I’m done, I can grab you some of your pain pills if you want.”

“Oh no that’s ok.  I’m good.” He hated his pain pills.  They helped get rid of the pain, but they knocked him out too, and he didn’t feel like sleeping the day away over a stupid burn.  He’d come up for the weekend to spend time with Tony.  He wasn’t going to let a momentary lapse in judgment take that away.

“I’ll give a couple to Tony in case you change your mind.”

Peter sighed but didn’t argue.  She could give them to Tony but that didn’t mean he’d be taking them.

He watched as Dr. Cho slathered the burn in some cream and then wrapped it in gauze.  Once she’d finished, she handed Tony a couple pills and then gave Peter a small smile.  “You’re all set.  Stop by sometime tomorrow and I’ll take a look at it and re-wrap if it needs it.”

“Thanks Dr. Cho.” Peter said, jumping off the exam table, more than ready to leave.

“Back to the shop?” He asked as they walked out of the medbay.

“To do what?  You only have one working hand.” Tony scoffed.

“So do you and you manage pretty well.” Peter snarked.  Tony had survived after snapping the gauntlet but he’d paid for it with his arm.  He hadn’t let it slow him down, though.  He’d fashioned an even better one out of the same nanotechnology he’d used to make his suit.

“Not the same.”

Tony led them back to his rooms in the compound.  “Sit.” He ordered Peter.  “I’ll grab you some water.”

Peter actually listened for once and plopped down on the couch, picking up the remote with his good hand and turning on the TV.

“So, tell me again how this happened or you’re losing your welding privileges.” Tony said as he handed him a glass of water.  “Actually, either way you still might.  I haven’t decided.”

He took a drink of the water before setting it down on the side table.  “I told you.  It slipped.”

“And I’m not buying it kid.  There’s no way it just ‘slipped’.” Tony put the word in air quotes.  “But if you keep insisting, I guess I’ll just have to have FRIDAY play the footage.”

It wasn’t an empty threat, and he knew if Tony watched it he’d see right away he hadn’t slipped.

“Fine.” He rolled his eyes.  “I was distracted and I forgot to move my hand.  Happy?”

“No, I’m Tony.”

“Oh god that’s such a dad joke.”

“Don’t try to deflect.” Tony pointed a finger at him.  “You’re going need to explain more than ‘you got distracted’ before I even think about letting you touch that equipment again.”

Peter huffed in irritation.  “I was thinking about how to ask MJ out to the spring fling dance and I wasn’t paying close enough attention.”

Peter instantly regretted the admission when Tony’s face split into a wide grin.  “A girl huh?  All of this is because of girl.  See, that I can believe.”

“Oh god don’t get all weird about it.”

“You need some advice?  Not that I’m the best one to give advice when it comes to romantic uh stuff, or so Pepper would say.”

“No.  I don’t need any advice.” He shook his head.

“Ok, so how are you going to ask her?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“Sounds like you need advice.”

“No I—”

“If I were you, I wouldn’t worry too much about it kid.  Just go up to her at school on Monday and ask, ‘Hey MJ do you want to go to the spring ding—”

“Spring fling.” He corrected, not quite sure if Tony had butchered the name on purpose or not.

Tony waved a hand dismissively.  “—together?’  If she’s anything like you’ve described her, she’ll appreciate the straight forwardness.”

That was probably true, but part of him wanted to make it special.  “You don’t think I should get her like some flowers or something?”

“Flowers?  To get asked to go to a dance?” Tony pulled a face.  “I wouldn’t think so, but then again I haven’t been in high school in…actually never.  I skipped that part of my childhood.”

Peter smiled.

“You know what?  I think this calls for an expert.” Tony took his phone out and put it on speaker as it rang.

“Tony?”

“Hey Pep.  Quick question.  The kid wants to ask his girlfriend out—”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Peter interrupted.

“You hear that?”  

“Yes I did.” Pepper said and Peter could hear the smile in her voice.

“Anyway, he wants to ask a girl out to some spring a ling dance.”

Yep, he was definitely doing it on purpose.  Peter didn’t bother to correct him this time.

“Does he need to get her flowers or something or should he just ask her?  I thought he should just ask her, but then he mentioned flowers, and I honestly have no clue how the kids are doing things these days, so we thought we’d check in with the master.”

“And that’s me?” Pepper asked in amusement.

“Yes dear.”

“Well, I think for once you’re right.” Pepper said and Tony did a little fist pump.

“Just ask her honey.  She’d be crazy to say no to you.  And then when she says yes, you can bring her flowers when you pick her up to go to the dance.  Ok?”

“Ok.” Peter responded.  “Thanks Pepper.”

“It’s no problem.  I’d wish you luck, but I know you won’t need it.”

“All right.  Thanks Pep.” Tony said.

“You’re welcome.”

Tony hung up.

“See?  Easy.  Now, if you’d just brought this up when you’d gotten here you wouldn’t have had to suffer.” Tony gestured toward his bandaged hand.

Peter rolled his eyes.  “I didn’t want to say anything because I knew you’d make a big deal out of it.”

“But I didn’t, did I?”

Peter side eyed him suspiciously.  “No.  You didn’t.”

“So, on that note…do we need to have the talk?” Tony asked, arching an eyebrow at him, but Peter could tell he was just messing with him.

“Oh god.  I knew I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Tony laughed.

**********

Monday morning came and his hand had healed.  Only a faint red line remained and he figured it’d be gone by tomorrow.  As he walked in, he decided to commit to following Tony’s advice.  He fidgeted all through the first half of the day until lunch period.  He’d seen MJ in class, but he didn’t think that was the best place to ask her with everyone else around, so he waited until they were alone in the lunch line together before taking a bolstering breath and asking.  “Hey MJ?”

“Hm?” She replied distractedly as she read the book in her hands.

“Do you, uh…do you want to go to the spring fling with me?”

MJ looked up from her book and the barest hint of a smile crossed her face as she raised an eyebrow at him.  “Are you asking me out Parker?”

“Um yeah.”

“Like as a date.” She clarified.

“Yes…”

“Ok.” She gave him a nod and went back to her book.

“Ok?  So that’s a yes?”

“Yes.” MJ smiled but kept staring at the page in front of her.

“Ok yeah um great.  That’s great!  Uh, thank you.”

MJ snorted.

“I mean uh cool.  It’ll-it’ll be fun.”

MJ kept reading and Peter tried to play it cool, but he couldn’t help pulling out his phone and texting Tony, ‘She said yes!’

‘Of course she did.’ Tony replied quickly.  ‘We’ll start brainstorming flower ideas next weekend.  But not around any heavy machinery.’

Peter smiled and shook his head.  That was actually something he didn’t need Tony’s help with.  He’d thought about it and already knew what kind of flowers he wanted to get her.  Actually, he wasn’t going to get her flowers at all.  A few months ago, she’d mentioned her favorite flower was the black dahlia because of its significance in the infamous Hollywood murder.  Since flower shops didn’t exactly carry bouquets of black dahlias, he’d searched online and found a black dahlia necklace.  The moment he saw it, he knew it’d be perfect.  He glanced back at MJ, unable to keep the smile off his face even as she kept her nose buried in her book.  The dance was only a month away.  He couldn’t wait.

[iamkatehardy]

Dessert (Eddie Brock x Reader)

Requested by: @bxbblesstuff

“Heyyyy.... yeah it's me again, sorry if I'm bothering, but could I get an imagine with Eddie Brock where the reader is British and well, if you're a Brit in America you could have some struggles like not being understood. So let's say that they are like in a date and the waitress does not understand the reader. Sorry if it's too much. Love your blog, bye”

Author’s Note: I’m sorry if I butchered the British slangs, but I don’t use them frequently, don’t kill me if you’re a British reading this , please 😂 for those of you who aren’t familiar with some of the slangs, I put the meaning 😋

Also, first time writing for Eddie, and as I’ve said before, I don’t usually do it, because there are so many great fics with him around,that I don’t know if I can make something worthy 😛

Warnings: Things get a little spicy in the end... Swearing, Descrimination.

Let me know what you think, loves ❤️

Dessert

Eddie worked with you for some weeks now. You and him hit it off right away; you loved how pure and genuine he was. He found you quite interesting too, from the thick British accent, to how lovely you looked when you were huffy, not to mention you were a sight for sore eyes.

You were in charge, the editorial manager, but you were very laid back, treating every person in there equally. For the first time, Eddie knew when his boss called him to her office it didn’t always mean trouble, sometimes it even meant being praised.

He often talked to himself, at first you wondered if he was crazy, but over time you discovered that that was just Eddie being Eddie; he wasn’t all there sometimes, but he was the sweetest, and hard worker.

Eddie was alluring, and you had been plucking up courage to ask him out, you just had to become become better acquainted with him first, to make sure he would accept just because you were his boss. He had been thinking about the same, but he wanted to make sure Venom understood he shouldn’t step in, because Eddie wouldn’t know how to explain the whole situation to you.

After staging the whole situation in your mind for couple hundred times, you decided to do it.

“Eddie, could you come to my office, please?” - You asked him.

This time he thought he was in deep trouble, he had been absent from work for almost a week.

“Sure...” - He was noticeably nervous.

“ I won’t be biting you, I swear.” - He made you laugh , and you walked to your office. Effie trailed behind you.

You sat down, relaxing in your chair, but when Eddie sat down he was all but relaxed.

“Bloody hell, am I that scary?” - You removed your glasses. Eddie shook his head.- “ I was just wondering if maybe we could grab dinner after work, one day.” - You said, with an expectant look.

Venom, who sometimes had an awful timing, decided to intervene.

“Eddie, do we eat bosses?” - Eddie heard inside his head.

“What? No!” - Eddie said in annoyance.

“Oh, sorry... Hmm, ok...” - Your smile faded, as you thought his answer was meant to answer your question.

“Fuck... No (Y/N), I didn’t mean...” - He scratched his head , taking a deep breath. - “Look, I’ll be right back, my answer isn’t no, yeah?” - He got up, rushing to the bathroom and locking himself inside.

“We do NOT eat bosses! At least not (Y/N), she’s everything but evil...”

“Hmmm...” - Venom grunted in his head.- “Not even the eyes? I like her eyes.”

“I like her eyes too, and that’s exactly why we won’t eat them! We won’t hurt her at all , ok?”

“ What if I get hungry? Really hungry...”

“NO! And I’d really appreciate if I could have dinner with her, with no trouble. I could get you a ton of chocolate of your choice...” - Eddie sighed.- “I like her, I really do, I can’t show you to her just yet, that would frighten her.”

“That would cost you at least 15 boxes of chocolate”

“I’ll give you 30 then!”

Eddie walked back to hour office, where you remained, crestfallen.

“Only if it’s today!” - He smiled.

“I beg your pardon?” - You looked up at him.

“Let’s have dinner tonight (Y/N), I’m really looking forward to it!”

“But I thought...”

“I’m sorry for what just happened, I was just nervous, never meant to decline your invitation, I couldn’t. Pick you up at 8?”

You giggled, because he was probably telling the truth, Eddie being Eddie again, one of the reasons that made him so cute.

“8 is perfect for me!”

After work you went home and immediately dolled up for the occasion, you wanted Eddie’s jaw to drop, and it did, in the second he laid his eyes on you when he came to pick you up. He knew the very professional you, not the casual version, but he was dying to.

Eddie was glad Venom was behaving , but he was so nervous that even without Venom bugging him, he was afraid to screw things up at any minute.

“Eddie, the chair. Remember the movie in which you cried , the other night, pull the chair for the girl.”

He pulled our chair and made a note in his mind to give Venom extra chocolates for that one.

“Thank you.” - You smiled warmly at him, impressed

A waitress came and delivered you both the menu.

“Oh, thank God! Besides cream crackered (tired) , I’m completely Hank Marvin (starving)! I’m salivating just by having a butchers (having a look) at the menu!”

Eddie smiled, he knew you always used British expressions and a thicker accent when you were truly excited, and that was definitely a good sign for him. The waitress shot you a side-look, as if you were from another planet.

“I’m absobloodylutely gobsmacked! These all sound and look great. But I’m feeling homesick today, so maybe I’ll ask you to get me some laverbread for a starter, then I’ll have a Scotch egg and chips, could that be?” - You smiled nicely at the waitress.

“I’ll trust your good taste and have the same!”

“I’m sorry ma’am, perhaps you could speak slower, and in a more understandable English?” - The waitress said almost laughing on your face, of how odd your accent sounded to her.

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, this one isn’t a good one, can we eat?!”- Venom asked excited.

Eddie was shocked with how inconvenient the waitress had been, and he almost felt like letting Venom bite her head off.

“That’s par (disrespectful comment), miss. Definitely not how you should treat a punter (costumer), but sure, I can try to translate my English for someone as dim (with lack of common knowledge) as you miss.”

“You really shouldn’t (Y/N) , I think you speak beautifully.” - Eddie put his hand over yours, reassuring you.

The waitress looked at you with a mix of disgust, confusion and ignorance.

“Look, I’m nearly losing my plot (going crazy) right now. It’s a shame how people make you feel like an alien sometimes. What a poor ability to understand people’s roots and culture some people have, but you’re taking the biscuit!”

“(Y/N)” - Eddie got up. - “Let’s go, I won’t let anyone make you feel bad, or ruin our evening.”

“It was an absolute clanger to come here!” - You got up , trying not to lose it. - “Have a nice evening!” - You stormed out the restaurant, Eddie followed you and grabbed your arm gently.

“I’m really sorry about that (Y/N)...”

You fought tears back.

“Did you ever feel like an alien Eddie?” - You looked up at him.

“All the time, yeah...” - He caressed your cheek.

“It’s just... So fucking revolting when people misjudge what they don’t fully understand, when they don’t even make the smallest effort to...” - Eddie knew this better than anyone. And there she was, the huffy (Y/N) he found so cute, but with a hint of sadness , which he wanted to make disappear. - “ I’m sorry I ruined the dinner...”

“First of all, it wasn’t your fault, and who said it was ruined, huh? What about going to my place and having a douchebag-free dinner? Well, except for me!” - He watched your lips curving into a smile , only he could do that in that moment.

“You’re no douchebag!” - You nudged him and you both went to his house.

You refused to let him make the dinner alone, insisting in helping him in whatever tasks you could. Eddie was lovely when he was focused, doing his mental checklist, as you watched him in delight. He wanted things to be just perfect, he just didn’t know his presence was all that you needed for everything to be perfect.

After enjoying the meal, you both sat on the sofa, chatting over a glass of good wine. From time to time Eddie had a piece of chocolate, just to keep Venom in check. He offered you some.

“No, thanks, you’re sweet enough already, if I have more sweetness in my life right now, I’ll have diabetes.” - You giggled.

The warmth of a few glasses of wine and the depth of the conversation made you both get closer.

“But do you know what dessert I wouldn’t mind having right now?”

You moved closer, leaning in, and your lips brushed on his, your heart fluttering. He ran his fingers down your check, bringing you closer with his other hand, until there was no empty space left between you. Your arms reached up, tangling around his neck, as he pressed his tongue gently to the seam of your lips, delving inside your mouth sweetly, the second you let him.

You had imagined this moment, but it never made justice to how good it felt in reality, the warmth, the feeling spreading throughout your whole body.

Eddie kept hungrily kissing you; the way your lips felt on his , that must have been the definition of magic, it obliterated his every thought, his mind was locked in that single moment.

His hand , which was resting on your waistline, suddenly turned black, Venom decided it was time for Eddie to make the next move and touch your skin, slowly sliding under your shirt. It was warm, and slippery.

“Eddie, you’re tickling me, I can’t focus like that!” - You broke the kiss laughing and took a moment to breath, opening your eyes and resting your forehead on his.

“I’m sorry...” - He smiled, and kissed you again before you noticed his hand. He then took it off your waist, shaking it frantically , trying to make Venom understand that that was not the moment for him to step in.

He pinned you between him and the sofa, his body pressing against yours. You bit his lower lip , pulling it playfully, and he lost control, letting a low moan escape his lips.

“Eddie, that’s not the physical reaction you have when I bite people...” - Venom made a cheeky remark.

“I just love dessert, man...” - Eddie got up, lifting you and helping you wrap your legs around his waist, as he filled you with kisses on the way to te bedroom.

[dramaplustautology]

Where Belief Goes to Die - Chapter 2

Summary: A Thorn spy decided to torch the research they did on the Espina Rosa’s newest inmate, setting Theano’s plans back significantly. Under the guise of a researcher backed by Akanthus, he goes to meet the Champion of Ravenloss.

Chapter 2/???

AO3 Link

Chapter Index Link

The great Magesters of Nieboheim; Gods in a Greenhouse City.

In his teenage years, Theano would leer at those sheltered fools as they passed by. Without their robes, masks, or tower, those feeble mages would wilt under the weight of their true incompetence.

The only thing separating him from the so-called mouths of the Shapeless was the poisonous magic that ran through their veins. Why should Theano and his family have to wallow in the First Halo over circumstances left to chance?

“Do not lose your footing aiming so high. There are places Empties shouldn’t reach for,” A Magester had caught him glaring once, noticing some sort of spark in the young man lurking outside of a nondescript home. “You wear your envy so plainly on your sleeve, and with enough time, it will fester into wrath.”

They spoke, merely gazing ahead. Theano was apparently a child throwing a silent tantrum, not warranting enough importance to look down on.

“Such ills can only be cleansed in the belly of the Shapeless.” The Magester warned, hearing the sound of the Empty’s teeth grinding too late to see him lunging for them.

“Theano!” A girl with gold braids clasped his wrist, stopping him just in time. “Did you come all this way to visit me? Even after uhm…” She floundered, trying to come up with small talk. Quickly, she addressed the Magester. “Lovely of you to come by, we bought a brand new set of tools. The flowers you ordered should—”

But the Magester was already on his way. Poor Persephone had such problems finding chances to finish her sentences. She was always disappointed about it, never angry. Theano made up for the both of them.

“New tools? Are they still too heavy for you?” Theano asked dryly, setting aside his indignation for more immediate goals.

He had sounded annoyed, shedding not a hint of concern, but Persephone smiled. She held his hand and her ears glowed pink just from being around him.

“They’re better, not lighter,” Persephone admitted somewhat sheepishly. “I used to be able to carry them to the gardens outside by myself, I swear! I don’t know why I can’t anymore.” Her tone drooped to a sigh and Theano began getting impatient.

“What are you waiting for? Ask me to carry them then.”

The blunt proposal took Persephone aback at first, and Theano thought he had ruined yet another attempt, but the girl started to giggle.

“You’re really kind.” She said, sounding less winded by awkwardness. Why had Theano been worried? Persephone was easy, practically charming herself. “If you aren’t busy today, would you stay with me in the gardens. I like taking care of the flowers but they don’t make for good conversation.”

“If you insist.” Theano pretended to relent.

“Oh, if you’re actually busy or if you don’t want to, I won’t push!”

“I’m going!” He blurted out suddenly, fuming at how Persephone had clamped her hand over her mouth, trying not to grin.

The door to her home opened and the irksome owner of the flower gardens shambled outside.

“Persephone, your mother woke up! She wants to wish you good morning before you go,” He called for his daughter, mood souring at the sight of Theano. “You again! I thought I told you to leave my family alone!”

He shoved himself between Theano and Persephone, posturing like he was ten feet tall.

“Go before I tell the guards you came back to harass us!”

“Father!” Persephone tried to argue, easily being dragged back inside.

Holding back a snarl, Theano retreated to the space between Persephone’s shop and the next building. Leaning next to a window, he listened in on their spat.

“Is this because his family isn’t as well off as ours? Father, that’s shallow!” Persephone accused but her father wouldn’t have any of it.

“That doesn’t have anything to do with this! There’s just something about that boy.”

This wasn’t the first time Theano heard those words though not once have they failed to rile his ire.

“I hear that he scant speaks to anyone with respect let alone treat them kindly. Worse, it’s obvious that he has some sort of ill will towards the Magesters. Just yesterday, I heard from the guards that he’s been seen stalking some of our customers. Wares get stolen when he visits the forum.”

“No one can prove any of that! Theano just isn’t a people person.” Persephone made weak excuses that she fully believed.

“Even if the rumors aren’t true, he gives me a bad feeling. There’s just something off about him. Something lacking…”

Lacking. It was always about what Theano lacked. He couldn’t have anything or be anything because it was meant to be. The Magesters saw Theano this way, and so did the wretches they lumped him in with.

He dug his fingers into his palms, holding back from striking the wall should Persephone’s father notice him.

“That boy isn’t like the rest of us.”

Leaving the shade of Persephone’s home, Theano committed her father’s words to memory. The man had been right.

Theano wasn’t like the others.

He was the only one who knew that Magesters could get busy, like anyone else. They let their guard down and forget to watch their backs. Worse, they thought they were above the vermin scuttling through Nieboheim’s Halos. They forget that they could die like one, from a blow to the head with a tool Persephone realized had gone missing.

Magesters could be butchered like any animal too. After a while, their insides couldn’t be told apart from the butcher’s specials.

They fed Persephone’s flowers well, haphazardly buried in the dirt so the guards could find them before the worms gorged themselves.

What kind of an idiot would leave the bloodied shovel in their own home? Well, Persephone’s father was a laborer that worked with dirt. Definitely no scholar.

“You don’t have to look if it upsets you.” Theano stood by Persephone on the day of the Harvest. She had cried until her eyes had grown so puffy that she could barely keep them open.

Still, she refused to look away from her screaming Father. That murderer’s cries were drowned out by the jeers of the crowd. They threw rocks at him until the Shapeless’ godly form leaned down to swallow his sins whole.

Persephone’s father stopped crying injustice, and cried for his wife and child. His voice was muffled in the throat of his god, until it was finally silenced when his feet slipped past its lips.

Theano’s arms closed around Persephone’s shoulders when she collapsed against him, sobbing pitifully.

“It’s going to be alright,” He promised, whispering to her as he stroked her hair. The people’s cheering made the sky quake but his voice was the only one that mattered. Soon, it would be the only one Persephone would have left. “From now on, I’ll take care of you.”

The dead men’s words were now a fond memory.

Don’t aim so high. There are heights not meant for you.

You are lacking.

But Theano knew he wasn’t meant to wither where he lay, hoping fate would cast him a fond glance. He was meant to be powerful; to get back at the mages that disgraced him.

The reality of it was that others were too weak to reach their goals, and Theano would use their backs as stepping stones to reach his.

That fact hadn’t changed long after he escaped Nieboheim.

At the base of the stairs in the Espina Rosa’s third level, the members of the patrol kept a keen ear out as they stood guard. If they strained their hearing hard, they might hear the new inmate break those annoying researchers.

Their wishes came true and Sennidy’s body smashed head first on to the ground.

Silent abject horror tainted the air until the leader shouted to mobilize and aid Sennidy, despite his twisted limbs.

Sennidy had always been a coward, pressured into joining the Rose by his friends before they urged him to fall in with the Thorn. He may have been smart, but with enough bullying, the sea jelly would agree to the sky being green.

The Commander of the Thorn realized he was glad that Sennidy was dead. His corpse was light and easy to throw off the edge of the stairs.

“Now, I have the perfect excuse.” Theano muttered to himself, fixing his coat. He scanned his surroundings, and glanced down the stairs, locking eyes with a Rose soldier clutching their sword.

“I-I came up to check on you all…” The private stammered, reduced to a shaking mouse by Theano’s disdaining stare. “Don’t move!” He regained composure and seeing Theano disappearing back into the hall of cells, the soldier raced to apprehend him.

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

Outside of the chaos in the cells, Bradley showed the Prison’s researcher guest a heavily fortified crate. It stood apart from the other confiscated items within the vault. The seams were welded shut and its chains and locks held it heavy to the floor. All of these measures made the container itself seem like a sleeping beast. Tariche was waiting for it to start thrashing.

He whistled, finding more interest in Bradley’s nonchalance around hundreds of potentially dangerous artifacts.

“You run a busy doggy kennel,” He noted, watching Sofist’s assistant push a large utility dolly over to the crate. “I’m guessing these eventually pile up with how busy the labs are. What do you do with them? Keep’em on ice until we make room for you?”

Bradley paused, considering the question. Though the stuck-up labcoats had been on a scale of weird to outright rude, he supposed he should reward civility. Prisons were supposed to reinforce good behavior after all.

“Were you Clarence or Rand?”

“Just call me Tariche.” The researcher shrugged, already prying at the lid of a smaller crate.

“Oh.” Figuring it was a middle name, Bradley went and unlocked the box Tariche had become curious of.

Amulets, gems, wooden carvings; a whole array of magical items were tumbling to the floor. Tariche felt a breath of fresh air flowing out from the box, like a breeze through a warm meadow. From the scratches on these previous items, he could tell that some of the inmates had fought to try keeping these small comforts close to heart.

“These aren’t dangerous, per say. Just a lot of junk we have to take off of new inmates before we take them to their cells,” Bradley said, tossing a silver pendant on the pile. “We know what most of them are and it’s not worth bothering the labs. Objects like what the weaver had get snatched and don’t end up taking space for long.”

Checking his magic agenda, scrolling through the busy schedules of the Espina Rosa’s personnel, the private pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing.

“I tend to handle the storage and I don’t want to keep them crowded. It’s just that there aren’t enough people to move this junk.”

“Move them where? An off-site warehouse?” Tariche asked.

Rather than answering him, Bradley lifted the crate and lead the researcher to a row of closed hatches. Leaning his elbow on a rune carved on the wall, Bradley let Tariche watch layers of metal slide away, pulled back by the grinding gears beyond what they could see. Tipping the box, the private poured the magical items into the nondescript hole.

The inside was too dark to see inside and Tariche saw that the openings were pretty small. Sofist’s arm would have gotten stuck.

Once the box was empty, Bradley lifted off the rune and the hatch slammed closed. The final shift of metal against metal sounded like the weighty blade of a guillotine.

“Cleaning is a slow process but better safe than sorry,” The private flicked a different switch and the smoke hit Tariche’s nose before the fire had started. “We never know exactly how magic reacts so they don’t get filtered out until they’re safe ashes. I end up watching some of ours handle the chore in case its more volatile than usual.”

Tariche watched the hatch.

It didn’t make a noise. No crackling. No sparks.

All very boring for a process so sickening.

To the front of the room, the heavy doors swung open and Tariche could hear his Commander’s boots angrily pounding on the floor towards him.

Those doors were heavy and Theano had shoved them out of the way like nothing. Tariche hoped the Commander would keep being this sloppy, they might get caught. Better yet, there was an ugly tear across Theano’s chest but Tariche doubted any of the blood was his.

“We’re leaving,” Theano ordered, reigning in his snarl for later. Narrowing his eyes, he glanced at the largest sealed crate. “It’s come to my attention that conducting proper research on the subject will be impossible with the incompetence so thoroughly infecting this dog pen.”

“Wow, I was just saying.” Tariche scratched the back of his head, barely bothered by Theano’s haggard appearance. The Commander kept such a straight laced bored-slightly-annoyed frown that Tariche was beginning to think someone splashed him with juice instead of there being an actual disaster on day one.

Looking to Bradley, Theano and Tariche figured he hadn’t been this awake in a long time.

“What happened?” The private demanded, holding his shaking agenda up as if to shield himself from Theano. He had good instincts.

“Funny, telling me what to do,” Theano didn’t want to waste energy rolling his eyes. “I hope whoever replaces you and the warden will know their place.”

Bradley, flushed from fright and shock, bit down until his jaw ached.

“I would call the warden to discuss this but I think he’s already on his way.” The private ground out.

Sure enough, Sofist and a gaggle of the members of the patrol that escorted Theano through the third floor arrived at the vault. Tellingly, the minotaur politely entered with his paling entourage following like sheep.

“Fine,” Theano closed his eyes, pretending to get more frustrated, but Tariche could see the corner of his mouth twitching up. “If you’re here, I won’t need to leave the instructions with your underlings. My remaining partner and I will be leaving for Swordhaven the moment a ship sails from port.”

Sofist’s pause was so deafening, the pressure under the vault’s high ceiling became crushing. They could hear his sweat dripping on the floor.

“The patrol told me what happened,” Sofist was far smaller than he was when they first met. “All of what they…admitted. Was that true?”

“Them abandoning Rand and I, allowing for some creature to attack Rand from its cell, spurring him into blindly running off the edge of a sheer fifty foot fall?” Theano listed casually. “I should hope that was the case. Or else I had come down to the patrol to see that they had snapped his neck.”

Mouth falling open, Bradley couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Sofist taking Theano’s barbs with a dipped chin made it worse.

Then, the story continued.

“…Went...missing…” The leader of the patrol mumbled, piercing the air like cannon fire.

“WHAT?” Sofist turned on a dime and just about lifted the offending patrolman by the neck.

“It was Matthew!” The soldier’s chest heaved. “He went to go see why they were taking so long to come--” He quickly cut himself off.

“Go on now. You’ll only make it worse by lying.” Theano sneered.

Unable to take his gaze off the ground, the soldier continued.

“He went to go see why it was taking so long for them to get scared and come running back. Mathew’s been missing since.”

“Wonderful,” Theano interrupted Sofist before he could tear into the leader of the failed patrol. “I’ll be sure to emphasize that in the report to General Akanthus.”

On the sidelines, Tariche began waving sadly to the patrol and Sofist. He didn’t imagine they’ll see the light of day when high command caught word.

“Wait!” Bradley piped up, struggling between coming up with a solution and organizing a search for the missing soldier. “If we just….couldn’t we—” He looked to the warden desperately, and immediately regretted it.

The other Rose soldiers were looking to Sofist too, knowing their future was bleak, and were guilty they had taken the warden down with them.

“What a waste of time,” Theano turned to Tariche, knowing they could all hear him. “First the fire setback, and now this. We won’t have another chance to examine the subject for months at best. Far longer thanks to that idiot Rand putting his corpse in the way.”

Sennidy really was an idiot but this was all a show to lead the bull into his cage.

“All of you,” Sofist addressed his men. “Leave us.”

The soldiers marched out discreetly. Theano expected Bradley to follow but he stubbornly stood his ground. That one was going to be trouble.

“General Akanthus hearing of this—” Sofist’s lip curled. “—Failure on our part will cost both of us greatly. But, if we were to…”

Compromise.

Sofist obviously hated the concept, almost as much as Theano did. Even when it was others compromising for him, the Thorn Commander preferred that they bent completely.

Still, this was worth letting a smile escape. Slowly but surely, Theano would get his way.

[19deg-c]

PRETTY THING

A man pulled his hat low and pressed his ears against the cold doors of the “Butcher’s Room”. Hearing the reassuring thuds of meat against metal table and muffled screaming of the human, he grinned as he tip-toed away to the mess hall where meals were held. By tomorrow night, they would reach Sabaody Archipelago according to their faithful navigator and he needed to get the last note of the plan down by tonight… or rather this morning.

It was four in the morning and he locked the swing door shut when he backed away into the kitchen. He heaved a sigh of relief and turned to his mates in cahoots. They gave him a thumbs up with the same victorious grin. He jogged up to their sides. He stopped at the island counter and dropped a similar drawstring pouch on the table top.

“So, are we ready?” He asked, excitedly.

“Yeah, damn straight we are! I mean, we have been saving for weeks since the first time we saw it on the newspaper!” Another man exclaimed.

“Shhh, too loud!”

“It is okay. Captain is in his playroom and the rest of them are either asleep or in the control room. It’s only us for now. We are safe.” The man announced. “Come on, let’s pour it all out and give it a count, Shachi!”

A pull of strings and overturning of the leather pouches, the gold came tumbling down in a pile on the island’s countertop. Soon, four pairs of hands were splitting into the sparkling pile and digging for more in their overall’s pockets, in their boots and in the seams of their headgear. When they were done, they posed a sight of defeat and disappointment. The same zombie-fied groan fell from their lips.

“How is it that us, four grown ass men fail to save for such a simple thing?” One of them smacked the table in emphasis. The towers of gold trembled. “We have been saving for two weeks, man! Two freaking weeks, four men and we are still 16, 000 beri short!”

“Maybe we could… you know, steal it?” One of them shrugged, nonchalantly. “I mean, we are pirates. We are notorious for pillaging and stealing. We take what we want! We can just snatch it out of the store.”

“Ha, right, Reyes, like we can do that.” Shachi snorted. “You have been onboard for nearly five months, right? Tell me do you remember what Captain always say when our feet touch the sand?”

“Don’t be a fool, pay attention and stay low.” They all quoted in a drone.

“Sabaody is a marine base as well and we are right under the nose of Mariejois. As much as the Marine HQ has moved to New World and influence weakened, it is still a marine base and it only take them a couple of minutes to be on our asses.”

“Hear hear, Penguin.”

“Okay, we are still 16, 000 short. By hook or crook, we need that amount. Someone better come up with a good idea on how to get that money cause we are reaching that damn place in another day. Bepo is never wrong with this.” Reyes pulled his blonde hair back. “Oxen?”

“Huh? Me? I suggest we borrow from Ikkaku.” Oxen shrugged. “She seems to have a lot of gold. I mean, I don't see her spend much on anything.”

“She is with Captain.” Reyes deadpanned with a stare. “She will definitely tell on us.”

“She is with Captain?” The incredulous look on Oxen’s face was epic. So epic that the rest of them choked at his intonation of his words. “What? This is serious business! If Captain and Ikkaku are sleeping together, I believe that we need to know because I don't want to see the spawn of Satan running around on Polar Tang!” He slammed his fist down, causing the golden towers to collapse.

The rest of the males hooted in laughter, gasping for air and slapping the countertop with their flailing palms at Oxen’s flabbergasted face.

“What? Oi! Be serious! Tell this old man right here, right now that what’s so funny!” Oxen demanded with his eyes wide with confusion.

“Yes, please tell me as well on why are you three laughing like you’re on nitrous oxide.”

The laughter was killed in a second. It was like the time froze for the four of them. Like clockwork, theirs heads turned to look at the new voice that sounded from the stretches of table before them. Lips mumbling prayers of their hometowns, they tried to save their skins as their eyes confirmed that their worst nightmare was in the same room with them.

There the nightmare was with his booted feet up on the head of the dining table, his body was slumped against the back of the seat that was balanced on two feet. Both hands were before him nursing a mug of drink, undoubtedly coffee as he rocked the makeshift rocking chair. He was smiling, eyes bright with humour but shined with something deadly behind his steel-grey pupils.

“Oh God, this is bad for my heart.” Oxen wheezed.

“C-captain, I — ”

The rocking stopped. They stopped breathing once again.

“I’ve to walk back to my room and get the main key for the kitchen before coming in to deposit my cold coffee. This is the first time in my whole life on this submarine that I’ve to do that. Probably this is also the first time someone locked me out of my own abode.” The smile did not falter. “Care to explain why?”

“C-captain, I —”

“Oh by the way, I heard your funny conversation about Ikkaku-ya and I. Let me clear something up, we are not sleeping together. I don’t sleep with my crew. It complicates things.”

“C-captain, I — ”

“With all that gold on the table, the four of you are planning for your retirement?”

“No, Captain. I —”

“Good morning, Heart Crew! This is Bepo, your navigator speaking. Captain, it is time for the early morning meeting in the control room. Both Clione and I are awaiting for your presence. The graveyard shift can be dismissed from their duties as the time is up. It is five in the morning now and we are two hours away from breakfast! See y’all in the mess hall later!” The intercom sounded.

“…”

“Captain, I —”

“As you've heard, I am a busy man. We are reaching the archipelago soon. I expect —”

“Just let me say it! Captain, please we are just trying to get an ice-cream machine! It was on sale in the little brochure that the daily newspaper came with! We saw it and we love it so now we are trying to get it! Was it so hard to say, Penguin and Shachi? See, I just told Captain everything! Now we are fucked and —”

A small thump of the mug landed on the wooden table. A creak of the chair sounded as it was being righted. Thuds of boots on the ground and a soft rustling of clothes told them that their captain had pulled himself into full height. However what surprised them was the sound of the swing door opening and closing behind the tall surgeon without words.

The foursome looked at each other, equally confused. Reyes approached the lonely white mug gingerly. The threesome backed away, treating the mug like an explosive. Reyes yelped in shock when he lifted the mug. A cry of happiness was heard from him like a child in Christmas’s morning. Sobbing in relief and elation, he brandished the surprise at his mates.

“16, 000 beri from Captain himself! Men, can you believe it? Captain gave us the green light for ice-cream!” He was jumping from the overwhelming emotion.

“OH CAPTAIN, WE LOVE YOU!”