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retlasute · 17 days

Text

॰ In The Rich Man's World ॰

Word count: 8000

☆ Table of contents

Previous Chapter

Chapter 22 - No Moon At All

You sat on the porch steps feeling pleasantly exhausted. After five days of grueling work, you had collected the new residents and set up half the accommodation for them. Johnny had rented a wagon to transport everything possible, including you. You'd been indoors for so long that Margaret would soon mistake you for one of the ornamental vases in the living room; Johnny was also disturbed by the fact that the sunlight hadn't touched you for three days and practically demanded that you help him and Gyro bring in the animals they had bought from the city.

Satisfied, you looked around in the direction of the meadow beyond Stephen Steel's small stable. The new residents were all camped there temporarily: two mules, two cows, eight pigs, and God knows how many chickens.

You wrote down all the names except the chickens on a list and kept it folded and crumpled in the pocket of the new dress Lucy insisted you buy. There were several other lists in there too, annotated, crossed out and corrected to the point where they had become illegible. You felt like a walking Number Book. You also felt like smoking a cigarette.

Luckily, this seemed to be available: young Peter, lost in the new tasks that the new animals had brought, had returned from work and was sitting on the grass behind the fence. You thought about having a coffee first, then asking for a cigarette. So you did, heading back inside.

''Are they ready to go?'' A muffled voice asked Vionnet from somewhere in the house.

''Yes, I think so, ma'am.'' Vionnet said, greeting you with a distracted nod and then returning to dusting the books in the living room.

''Will they use the wagon?'' Louise suddenly emerged from under the kitchen counter with a large burlap sack in her hands. It was probably full of potatoes. ''If so, ask them to bring some corn.''

''Leave the corn for tomorrow.'' Suddenly, Gyro burst through the kitchen door, frantically searching for his hat. ''I can't stand riding around in that old wagon like a damn rancher anymore, I want to take my Valkyrie to see the city.''

''Oh, and why don't you get her to pull the wagon?'' Louise asked and, before poor Johnny could enter the kitchen, she threw the sack of potatoes into his arms. ''Put them in the crate, please.''

Johnny, without much choice, nodded and went back the way he came, his confused face hidden by the potatoes. Without wasting any time, Louise was already chopping a dozen onions.

''It's easier for me to make you pull a wagon, carota, than my beloved Valkyrie.''

''What did you say?'' Her voice had been slightly muffled by the sound of potatoes being dumped into the wooden crate outside.

''I said it's easier...''

''I know what you said, you idiot.'' She interrupted him, not bothering to look at him. ''I'm talking about what you called me. Don't call me that again.''

''What? Carota?''

''Yes, exactly.''

At this point, curious, Gyro had forgotten about the previous task of looking for his hat, although Vionnet had taken it upon herself to do it for him.

''Do you know what it means?''

''Yes, and I don't want you to call me that again.''

''What's the matter, carota?'' He continued, amused. ''It's just a name, there's no big deal about it.''

''I don't care, just don't call me that again.''

Sensing the unusual apathy in her voice, the golden smile immediately disappeared and, somewhat embarrassed, he sought refuge in Johnny, who had just left the burlap sack neatly folded on the sink.

''Right, if you say so... Are you ready, Johnny? Let's go early, so we can get back early... Damn, where's my hat?''

''It's here, Mister Zeppeli!'' The small, helpful creature with the chubby cheeks appeared behind him with the hat in her hands, her eyes reaching halfway down his back.

Startled, Gyro turned around, but was soon reassured when he looked down.

''Ah, thank you, bella.'' He said, picking up his hat and briefly stroking Vionnet's shoulder. ''Johnny, let's go! The horses are already saddled!''

''Right, I'm coming!'' Johnny said, then gave Louise's shoulder a couple of pats and whispered ''How much corn do you need?''

''One sack is fine.'' She replied, smiling, and then said goodbye to him.

The chaos almost immediately left along with Johnny and Gyro, who had undoubtedly gone to cause chaos elsewhere.

Louise, having dated a chef, naturally had a culinary talent almost as good as Margaret's, but she had one peculiarity: she was incapable of carrying out any task in the kitchen if someone else was nearby or trying to help. You've learned the hard way that if Louise is in the kitchen, then get the hell out of her way.

Vionnet also learned this when, accustomed to always doing this when Margaret was in the kitchen, she tried to sweep the floor while Louise hung the caraway branches to dry in the window. The poor girl was thrown out and spent the day cleaning only the upstairs, afraid to go downstairs.

The living room was clean and quiet, with particular golden dust glittering in the air that stirred through the open doors and windows. A wagon, a carriage and an elegant two-wheeled cabriolet lay on the hay-covered floor, like huge, placid beasts. You looked at Louise, who was staring at you with her lips half-circled after long hours in the kitchen.

''Are you drinking already?'' She nodded at the glass of whisky in your hands.

''It was already here, I won't waste it.'' You said. ''Would you like some?''

''No, thanks.'' She said politely, but in a tired tone. ''Where did you get that notebook?''

You took a long, delicious sip of the whisky Stephen had left there, feeling the drink warm your throat and curl up in your chest like a purring cat. This time, Louise nodded in the direction of the other open object in your hands.

''Johnny gave it to me when I went into town with him.''

''Oh, how nice. And what are you writing on it?''

It would be easier to say what you weren't writing on it. You didn't answer, you just flicked through the little notebook for a few seconds, thinking.

''About the Devil's Palm?'' She asked again.

''Also.''

''And did you find out anything?''

''I don't know.''

''Do you think we can get home without the corpse?''

She stared at you, her green eyes waiting.

You took a deep breath. Only Louise, you thought wryly, would go straight to the elephant in the room and grab it by the trunk.

''No, I don't think so.''

She compressed her lips, giving a brief sign of frustration followed by compliance. Then she picked up a comb from the coffee table, sat down and started combing her hair, watching you write. There was nothing to hide from her there, and nothing she would understand by reading it herself. Just recaps, notes, lists, hypotheses... a complete mess. But now, on that particular page, you were trying to recover your memory from before and during your time at the Devil's Palm.

You were more drunk, so you didn't remember very well. But Louise remembered. It was very noticeable when she woke up from nightmares, her eyes wide, staring into the void, unable to describe her dream. Thank God, it didn't happen often.

You yourself would break out in a cold sweat whenever you remembered the Devil's Palm. For God's sake, there was no name for what you and she felt and still feel, because the human race as a whole has not suffered this experience. It was nowhere near anything that could be compared to it.

None of the senses worked there. In sleep, it felt like death. But at the same time, they all worked, in such a state of hypersensitivity that you would die from it if it lasted a little longer. An immense void in which the sound seemed to beat you, pulsing through your body, trying to separate every cell. Absolute blindness, the blindness of looking directly at the sun. And the impact of... bodies? Ghosts? Invisible people who brushed against you like moth wings or seemed to run into you and through you, like a collision of shuffling bones. A permanent sensation of screaming. Bones. Shuffling bones.

Was there a smell? You stopped to think, frowning, trying to remember. Yes, of course there was. And, strange as it may seem, a perfectly describable smell: the smell of air burnt by lightning. Ozone.

It smells strongly of ozone, you wrote, feeling relieved to have at least this small point of reference with the normal world.

That relief disappeared in the next instant, as you returned to the mental effort of remembering.

It felt as if nothing, apart from your willpower, kept you and the people of that time, like Gyro and Johnny, together, nothing but the absolute determination to survive. However, going back to the past and still not knowing what awaits you didn't help one bit. It was different - and much worse than anything you had ever felt before.

Was there a sound? Yes, of course, but it was disturbingly human, the same sound you were hearing now. Louise hummed Dem Dry Bones almost religiously every time she got distracted, and that's what she was doing now. Yes, that was the sound of your passage in particular, that song that sounded more disturbing in your mind every day. You already knew by heart the order in which Ezekiel collected the damn bones.

Then you thought back to the not-so-distant past. The list of fatalities from the Steel Ball Run. The names underlined, because you heard them before or during your stay at the Steel's house. Mountain Tim, Sandman, Hot Pants... Hot pants. A curious name, yet you were sure that Johnny and Gyro referred to this person as if they were still alive; but why was this name on the list of fatalities? Was this person using a new identity?

You know you shouldn't look at them, the ghosts or whatever they were. “Look” wasn't the right word... pay attention? Once again, there was no right word, and you sighed, exasperated.

''Dem bones, dem bones gonna...''

''Walk around.'' You sang softly, in chorus with Louise. ''Dem bones, dem bones gonna walk around...''

''Now hear the word of the Lord.''

You drummed your pen on the paper for a moment, thinking, then shook your head and leaned over the page again, but you couldn't bring yourself to write about anything now. Later. Instead, you turned the pages back to the rough sketch you had made at the beginning.

Time travel: cause and cure

Physical phenomena

Known locations (ancient routes?)

Religious nature

Mortality

The influence and properties of Ecclesiastes

Powers?

You were about to cross out the last item, but hesitated. Did you have to write down everything you knew, believed or suspected? You thought the idea of acquiring cursed abilities was silly, a pagan superstition with no real validity. You could have been right. After all, you were the scientist. But you have a disturbing memory of the night you saw Johnny shoot his own nails.

Long blond hair fluttering in the icy, rising wind, the fluttering locks silhouetted for an instant against the window. The nauseating smell of mold and alcohol. It was too far away.

Fairy tales. Stories of people who became serial killers, driven mad by the spirits of the place. That's how such stories were always told.

Reluctantly, you slowly wrote the word powers again, adding parentheses (stand abilities??), but nothing underneath. Not now; later.

''What's that?'' She asked, pointing to a paragraph that was exceptionally long and cohesive compared to the other notes. She quickly picked up the notepad to read it better. ''Jeez, where did you get that from?''

''What?''

''We dangle over an abyss and common sense tells us that our existence is no more than a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness.'' She read aloud, resting on the Bergere armchair.

''Ah, that... Nothing much, just a reverie of mine. Not everything I write there has anything to do with the plan.''

''Hm, I didn't even know we could call it a plan. What do you mean two eternities?''

''What do you think?''

''Are you going to ask for my interpretation? Are you sure?'' Louise said with a soft, restrained laugh, leaning her elbows on her knees, interested. She thought for a while, maybe thirty seconds, which she thought was enough. ''If so, I believe you're talking about life and death, aren't you?''

''Yes, too. But there is something before life, an abyss as deep as death.''

''Is there? Ah, the conversation is getting too intellectual. Why did you think of that, anyway?''

''Nothing, I guess. I'm talking about the abyss from before birth.'' You answered simply, abandoning the glass of whisky.

''But comparing that state to death is a bit... exaggerated, don't you think?''

''These two abysses are identical twins. But we, as a rule, see the pre-natal abyss more calmly than the one we're heading for.''

''Ha! You've reminded me of something funny...'' Louise laughed, leaning back in her armchair more relaxed and looking around to make sure there was no one who could hear. ''You're right, but I know a friend who panicked when he found out his parents had made a tape of his... conception, I think that shocked him more than the idea of death.''

''Hm, you may be right, but what if his panic is more complex?''

Louise raised her eyebrows, the two orange lines so arched that they almost framed her eyes. What could be more complex than the contemporary terror of being able to watch your own conception?

''What do you suggest?''

''I don't know, I imagine you know your friends much better than I do.'' You stopped to think for a moment, undeniably amused by the sudden discussion. ''What if he's just a chronophobe?''

''Chronophobe?''

''He's afraid of the passage of time and how it works. What if, suddenly, seeing a world practically unchanged; the same house, the same people he sees every day... he then realized that he didn't exist there at all and that no one regretted his absence?''

''Hm, I think you're overthinking this... he just got scared watching his parents screwing.'' She said. ''You now, choking and pounding. That's terrifying.''

''Ah...'' You laughed. ''Maybe you're right. I'm thinking too much.''

You then began to deduce, with the unreliable hypotheses of your mind, what would be on the sex tape of the poor man's parents. These fantasies are no stranger to young people. Or, to put it another way, the first and last things in life tend to have an adolescent tone - unless, perhaps, they are directed by a venerable and rigid religion.

But the first conception sounds as immature and adolescent as the loss of virginity, just as a last date sounds as melodramatic as the last breath. Nature expects a grown man to accept the two black voids, before and after, as impassively as he accepts the exceptional visions between them.

''What about Gyro and Johnny?'' She asked, with a curious tone. ''How would they react if they heard a story like that?''

''If they found out that in the future we could watch our parents' sex tapes?''

''Yes. How would they feel about that?''

''That sounds like pure horror. Let's spare them.''

''Oh, right.'' She nodded, somewhat disappointed.

You can understand the frustration, it would be very funny and it's not out of the question yet, but she'd better leave it for another day.

''I need some fresh air.'' You said, less apathetically than usual.

''Alright.'' Louise replied as she combed her hair, more apathetically than usual.

You didn't ask or say anything. You just stood up with your notepad and fountain pen - which, by God, you still didn't know how to use properly - and excused yourself to the agitated Vionnet after she bumped into you, blinded by her accumulated tasks. You didn't mind, you were thinking of Louise. In a few days, she suddenly seemed apathetic; she didn't talk, she didn't look you in the eye. You could only remember Creed, and think that she also shared these thoughts.

But more painful than her apathy was her sudden joy. You'd expect that tomorrow morning she'd be back to “normal”, chatting to everyone and searching endlessly for something to do, with a frightening smile on her face. This phase of non-prolonged mania was disturbing, as if someone else had taken control of her body; although they still spoke, acted and thought like Louise, both parts. ''Louise'' no longer seemed like a person, but a kind of unity - or the opposite of unity.

Sister, you should put me on a firing squad, I have no words to describe how I failed you.

You didn't know where you'd heard it and you had no desire to remember it, but it seemed a very appropriate quote for your current situation, you thought as you watched the horizon. It wasn't a productive afternoon, nor was it a productive day, but your body was still crying out for cigarettes. You thought again that perhaps young Peter could help you with that, but you feared that he had already left to pick Stephen up from his work.

Outside, a carpet of clouds illuminated by the sunset greeted the night's arrival with anticipation. You closed your eyes, in a state of suspended vigilance. Back in the twentieth century, Thomas and the police were looking for you and Louise. Up ahead, on Staten Island, Gyro and Johnny were looking for the corpse - or at least information about it - and here, now, you and Louise were looking for a way out. You smiled slightly as you walked, feeling the wooden surface of the fence, on the lookout for splinters. Louise was your best friend; probably the only person close to you who really understood what you were doing and why. And then you took a deep breath. Maybe you didn't want to leave just then.

On this side, in the past, everything was silent, beautiful and serene, in marked contrast to the turmoil of your other life. You had the strange sensation of being suspended in the air, motionless, isolated in solitude, even young Peter's heavy breathing, now ahead, being just part of the white noise that makes up the silence, a silence that includes the warm hum of the wind and the snorting of the draft horses, ready to serve honorably in the task of bringing Stephen Steel home in time for dinner.

You felt a light breeze in your hair and a strand brushed against your cheek, as light as a lover's touch. Surely it was the air mass that the afternoon brought to the coast and your imagination which, underlying the stale smells of grass and cigarettes, suddenly made you smell the scents of bleach and Thomas.

''Do you need anything, lady?'' The young man asked, having just finished harnessing the two big, fat horses, one gray with white spots and the other white with gray spots. They weren't stains like the meshes of a cow, but as if someone had sprayed permanent paint on them, like painting two Dalmatians. ''I'll be picking up Mister Steel soon, would you like me to bring something from the town?''

''Actually, yes.'' You said it bluntly, your abstinent brain couldn't work well in the field of social relations. ''Cigarettes. How much are they?''

''They're not that expensive, lady, I can pay for you.'' With a yellowish smile - and incredibly more hygienic than Gyro's - he nodded chivalrously. ''Which cigarettes do you need?''

''Any that burns.'' You said, trying to sound relaxed. ''Do you have any for me until you get back from town?''

''Of course, miss.''

And then he reached into the pocket of his baggy trousers, pulling out an almost perfect pack of a brand you already knew. Instead of just giving you a cigarette, he respectfully handed the pack to you and you took it with curiosity.

Lucky Strike. You didn't know it was such an old brand, and it wasn't your favorite either, but anything would do now. You opened it and...

There you go, a brave little army. A platoon of twenty cigarettes, brave souls standing in salute, ready to burn for you, lady...

''Thank you.'' You said, taking one and handing the rest back to Peter, who politely declined.

''Don't worry, miss, I'll buy another one in town, you can keep this one.'' He said, still smiling. ''I've never met a woman who liked that kind of cigarette.''

''Oh, I'm not very demanding, you know...''

Polite and helpful, you thought dryly when, the moment you put the cigarette in your mouth, Young Peter was already lighting a match for you. You tilted your head forward, accepting the gesture with pleasure.

''Mister Steel had already told me about Mister Zeppeli and Mister Joestar once. But he never mentioned you and Miss Duncan.''

A thick, hot smoke is sucked into your lungs. Immediately you feel a tender nostalgia fill your head, body and soul. A nostalgia for yourself, the woman you used to be. The long, elegant nails, red like those of a Messalina. Red like the soles of your heels. Red like your lingerie. Red like the filters on your cigarettes. Head of archaeological research. Doctor-researcher (Y/N) is back, and she's the coolest one who's ever stepped foot in this building.

''I thought they'd told you something about us.''

Peter looked at you from the other side of the fence you were leaning on, curious. His greasy hair stuck to his shiny, sweaty forehead.

''Should I have heard something?''

''I don't know.'' You paused to take a deep drag from your cigarette. ''Should they have told you something?''

''People say a lot of things around here, and few of them are reliable.'' He concluded. ''I imagined you were their wives, but I don't see any rings on your fingers.''

''Hm, good to know you're out there looking for rings on our fingers.'' You scoffed, the nicotine bringing your good mood back to the same industrially deregulated levels.

''Oh, I'm sorry, miss, it's not at all what you think!'' He defensively corrected himself. ''I assure you it's nothing inappropriate, just curiosity.''

''It's okay, silly.'' You laughed. ''It's a more delicate choice than asking like most people do. I'm not married, and Miss Duncan is a widow. We're two intellectuals, personal friends of Gyro and Johnny. As good friends as Lucy, I guess. That's why we're here.''

''That's... vague, but good. Well, it's not my job to investigate your lives, but I'm glad you told me.'' And there it was, the yellowish smile back on his dirty face. ''And speaking of work, it's time for me to go. Enjoy your cigarettes, lady.''

''I will. Thank you.''

Yes, you will. You and your notepad. You and your brain. You and... maybe your lungs don't like the party very much, but they're the losing vote. There wasn't much left for you to do but wait on the porch.

And it happened, not only that they approached, gliding, those two familiar smiles; not only did the night return, bringing with it the newspapers, two bags of corn and a basket of sandwiches and fruit, with those bright red strawberries, so beautiful, large, well-bred, clearly begging to be bitten; not only did all this return with Gyro and Johnny, old Stephen in his green autumnal haze also returned, as did young Peter, exercising his extra occupation of private driver.

When the carriage arrives, the sky begins to darken. You look up at the low, black clouds and smell the rain, thinking of the rains of the past, the rains of childhood and wondering: what is my mother doing now? Is she watching my disappearance on television?

You miss your mother and, as Freud would say, why do we become childish in difficult times? They say that on the frontlines of wars, soldiers call out for their mothers during the fighting. The lightning flashes and then explodes in the distant sky, drowning out the voices of your friends, drowning out those beats in your heart, which you feel beating in your throat like a drum; and a chill runs through your skin, making you long for childhood colds.

''Is everything alright, (Y/N)?'' You hear Johnny ask, and you could swear he was still about twenty meters away, taking the sack of corn off his horse.

''Ah!'' you exclaimed in surprise as the voice came from behind you and the two bags of corn had already been placed on the porch. How hard can you get distracted? ''Oh, Johnny. Yes, of course. I'm fine.''

A blond eyebrow rose.

''Are you sure? You look pale. Are you sick?''

''No, I'm fine.'' You assured him. ''How was the town?''

''Same as always. It seems they're organizing the church for some local event.''

''Or a baptism.''

''Baptism?'' Confused, Johnny leaned next to you. ''How do you know?''

''I don't know. But Lucy told me that her friend is pregnant, about to have a baby. She's the closest neighbor we have.'' You explained. ''Madam Argentine, I don't know.''

''Argentan?''

''Yeah, that's it.'' You said, laughing a little at your confusion. ''Do you know her?''

''No, but the name doesn't sound strange, Stephen seems to like her husband.''

''Hm, I heard Lucy saying that they're going to invite the Argentans here for lunch. Do you think it's safe?''

''If Stephen approves of the visit, I don't see why you should worry.'' He said, glancing at the notebook in your hands. ''Have you used up half the pages? I've never met anyone who reads and writes as much as you do. ''

''Ha, that's all I know how to do, Johnny.''

''Are you religious, (Y/N)?''

The question, although simple, took you by surprise. So you faced him.

''What?''

''Sorry, I was just curious. Your friend said she plans to go into town at least once a week to visit the church, I think she's going with Lucy. But what about you? I've never seen you talk about it.''

''It's because I'm not very attached to religion.'' Curricular atheism, that's what you called it. ''Actually, it's funny you asked me that. Did you know that I did an entire seminar accusing the corpses of saints of being a hoax?''

''Really? How... ironic.''

''Yes, ironic and cruel.''

''What's a seminar?''

''Ah... it's a kind of work you do to prove to your college that you're competent.'' You explained, stubbing out your third cigarette on the porch fence and disposing of the butt in a glass of water that you had improvised as an ashtray. ''It was this work that got me a place at the Speedwagon Foundation.''

''I see... so you don't believe the corpse is that of a saint?'' Johnny asked, frowning, clearly puzzled. At this point, not believing was stupid.

You shrugged, feeling the weight of the question.

''It's not that simple. Science can explain a lot, but what we're facing now... is different.''

Johnny nodded slowly, as if processing your words.

''I see. I guess everyone has their own ways of dealing with... well, all of it.''

''Exactly. I just think that questioning things is part of the process. But that doesn't mean that I don't respect what others believe or that... I don't believe it myself.''

The silence that followed was comfortable, almost reassuring. Despite the differences in beliefs, there seemed to be a mutual understanding, a tacit acceptance. There was still enough light for you to see a mocking expression cross Johnny's face. Having never discussed matters of faith with people who weren't academics, you were more than cautious in these matters, but at least you were familiar with the general concept of each other's beliefs.

''You're an interesting person, (Y/N).'' Johnny finally said, with a small smile. ''I think this house needs a more thinking person than the rest.''

''Thanks, I guess.'' You gave a slight smile back.

''It's getting cold and I'm sure it's going to rain.'' He said, putting his hand over his eyes as if to protect them from the sun that had already set, watching the distant lightning. ''How about we go inside?''

''I just need one more cigarette.'' The answer came in a hoarse squawk. You sniffed and tried again. ''Just one more. Dinner can wait a bit. You can stay if you like. If you're not starving...''

He was. He hadn't stopped for lunch in town and his stomach was empty, but it didn't matter.

''I'm fine. It's a nice evening.''

He pulled you gently, making you move again.

You crossed the outdoor area through the garden and headed for the stable, walking to the short path that led to the pasture behind the house. Peter had already cleaned up the two cows he had bought, Blossom and Daisy, and they had settled down for the night, big dark figures on the grass, ruminating.

''You said you did a work accusing holy corpses of being fake... are there more corpses?''

''Oh, yes. We call them incorrupt bodies, and they're everywhere. This practice will be more common in the next century, so it makes sense that you don't know many incorrupt bodies.''

''Practice?''

''Yes, practice.'' You took another cigarette out of the pack. ''The practice of hiring thanatopraxists to inject formaldehyde into the dried arteries of a dead person and then guarantee millions and millions of dollars for the pockets of the Catholic Church.''

Johnny frowned, processing what you had just said.

''So, they keep these bodies 'uncorrupted' as a way of fooling people?''

You lit your cigarette and took a deep drag before answering.

''Basically. The idea is that the body of a saint doesn't decompose like an ordinary body, as a divine sign. But the truth is that a lot goes on behind the scenes to make these bodies seem miraculous. And it's not just faith that's involved; it's a lot of money too.''

''I never imagined something like this could exist. It seems... absurd.'' Johnny shook his head thoughtfully. Then almost immediately took some matches out of his pocket for you, ready to light your cigarette.

''It is absurd..'' you agreed, letting out a puff of smoke. ''But it's reality. When you start to see the world without the lenses of blind faith, you realize that not everything is what it seems.''

The cows, already settled for the night, continued to ruminate, oblivious to the conversation. The surroundings were quiet, just the gentle sound of the wind rustling through the trees and the occasional movement of the animals in the barn.

Johnny remained motionless, the night wind carrying the damp smell of the earth and the distant sound of rain. What you had just said seemed to have diverted something inside him, something fragile, something he perhaps didn't even know was still there.

''So, in the end, what's left for people who believe?'' Johnny muttered, almost to himself. His voice was a low, trembling note. He had taken that information too personally. ''If faith can be bought and tampered with. What's left?''

You watched the cigarette butt glow in the darkness, like a lone star burning its last vestige of light. You didn't quite know how to answer this question; you didn't even expect Johnny to develop a decent line of thought on the subject.

''I don't know, Johnny, I'm not a theologian. In the end, the only thing I can cling to, if not God, is the time I have left.''

''But you don't count. I'm talking about ordinary people, they need to believe in something, don't they? Without that, without some kind of faith, what's to stop them from just giving up?''

You let go of the smoke, which dissipated into the cold air, like thoughts that never materialize, mere specters of possibilities.

''Nothing stops them. Some give up. Others... cling to anything that seems true, even if it's a lie, because the emptiness is unbearable. Because emptiness, Johnny, is the closest thing to the truth.'' You sighed, feeling ridiculous. You were beginning to sound like your boss. ''Look, let's talk about something else''.

''But what about the corpse?'' Johnny asked, interested in your opinion. ''You don't believe in God, but you witnessed the corpse's powers.''

''I didn't say I don't believe in God.''

''But you sound like someone who doesn't.'' He retorted, and that comment made you especially uncomfortable. He wasn't trying to be inconvenient, let alone offensive. He was just curious. Then you began to think that perhaps you shouldn't see Johnny as a mere specimen of something different; as a Neanderthal from whom concise reasoning is not expected.

''I don't know, Johnny. I just don't believe in the things they attribute to God. Like incorruptibility, predestination, salvation and all that stuff.''

His blue eyes opened wider in understanding.

''They say that's what God is, as well as many other things. Isn't that the same as not believing in him?''

You tried to explain your idea in simple terms, such as your disbelief in predestination. Predestination, in this case, was not just an inevitable destiny ordained by God or the notion that God had already planned everyone's life in detail before they were born - although not a few Presbyterians saw it exactly that way. It had to do with salvation and the idea that God chose a path that led to that salvation.

Johnny squeezed his eyes shut, as if to block out the growing darkness around him.

''For some people.'' He said. ''And then He curses the rest?''

Johnny seemed to believe that. A lot of people believed it too, and it took better minds than yours to dispute that impression.

''There are whole books written about it, but there is also the basic idea that salvation doesn't just depend on our choice. God acts first. By extending the invitation and giving us an opportunity to accept. But we still have free will. And yet, how can we recognize this invitation? And what about those who don't receive it? I, for example, will enter hell through the front door, welcome banner and all. Why would they waste their time inviting me to salvation?''

You looked at him, your eyes meeting his, tired but still shining with a spark of something indescribable, something primal. At this point, you were just babbling and he was too hungry for that.

''You don't seem like a bad person.'' He said after a while in silence. ''You're just confused.''

His eyes darted back to the house and he frowned. He faced it a second later, swallowing and looking a little paler.

''Stephen is watching us.'' He said

You felt the tension that had dominated you for the last 24 hours increase. You had a feeling you were being watched in that house from the moment you set foot in it. You weren't going crazy, then. You didn't think to look back, you just pretended to ignore his comment.

''You must be hungry, you should go back inside and have dinner.''

''Yeah, I'm starving. But aren't you coming?''

''No. I just need to finish this cigarette.''

''Haven't you finished?''

''I need one more.''

''Why?''

''I don't know.''

''It's about to rain, you shouldn't stay out here.''

''I'm fine. If it rains, I'll go inside. I like it here, it's cooler.''

''If you say so... just be careful, okay?''

You nodded without looking at him. You stood outside, the cool night air a stark contrast to the warm bustle emanating from inside the house. The crackle of the cigarette between your fingers was a subtle, almost meditative sound that blended in with the muffled murmur of conversations that filtered through the walls.

The warmth of the cigarette flame briefly illuminated your face, casting shadows that danced across the lines of your cheeks. The smoke drifted slowly, forming ethereal patterns that dissipated into the cool night air. Each puff seemed to take away a fragment of the tensions accumulated throughout the day.

How long had passed? An hour? Two hours? You knew that this was the fifth cigarette since Johnny had come back inside. The voices were quieter and one of the upstairs windows, which you imagined belonged to Gyro and Johnny's room, was lit. You could practically see the movement of the house, you already knew by heart what had happened.

By now, Vionnet must have cleared the table and Louise insisted on helping to clean the kitchen. Johnny had gone to bed, as he always does after nine - which is why the light in his room was on - and Stephen was preparing his daily idiosyncrasy of smoking cigarillos with cognac while talking to Gyro, who seemed to be the only one who could stand all that smoke.

This routine, every predictable movement and every repeated word, seemed to weave a cloak of monotony over you. It felt like being trapped inside an old clock, where the hands turned incessantly, marking time with merciless precision. The routine setting, with its whispers and laughter, only amplified your sense of alienation. It was an endless dance, where you were condemned to observe, but never really participate. None of the things you watched happening in that house really counted on your presence.

Then the sound of firm footsteps on the ground outside cut through your thoughts. Gyro appeared in your vision, his silhouette emerging from the darkness with a look of indifference on his face. He approached, and you could see that he was hesitating, looking at your silhouette in the darkness with a little more focus to make sure it was you and not a pile of hay.

''Are you alright?'' Gyro was calmer than usual, but there was a note of concern in his voice that didn't go unnoticed. He seemed almost uncomfortable, as if your presence was at odds with what was going on around him, an unwelcome guest in the serenity of the night.

''Yeah.'' You sighed, caught between the desire to run away and the curiosity to know what he wanted. ''Just thinking.''

''Thinking?''

''Yes, thinking.'' You prepared to scoff. ''You're not used to doing that, are you?''

''Seeing you thinking? Nyo-ho... it's not very common.'' He scoffed back. ''Louise is worried about you. She said you were acting strange.''

''Oh, and you've come to see if I'm okay? How kind.''

''I said you always look strange. But she asked me to check on you.'' He replied, ''Are you sure it's all right?''

His intention was to be gentle, despite everything. Very gentle. Like cleaning a floor full of shards of glass. You could sense that he had planned this carefully, worrying every step of the short way back to the porch of the house, from which you agreed to follow him. He saw you like that; a mess of shards of glass. You were in pieces, and he would need to be astute, not in a hurry. Be careful to glue your shattered parts back together.

But he would soon discover that you wanted no part in that depressing delicacy, that court. You were a person who dealt with everything directly. Short and violent. If you were shattered, you would cut him with your sharp edges, as carelessly as a drunk with a broken bottle.

If it was Johnny, you'd understand. You could talk to him. But this was Gyro, and there was something different; something primitive, a simian feeling of mutual distrust between you and him.

''Come on, what's wrong with you, woman?'' He asked, sitting down next to you, too close due to the little space you both had on the steps and the fact that Gyro was unable to sit with his legs closed. ''Every time I look at you, you look like you've just been hit on the head. It takes you five minutes to answer simple things, as if you were deaf. But at the same time you're so chatty that I refuse to believe that there's really nothing going on in your head, no matter how much it seems like it from time to time.''

''What's wrong with me? If you like, I could write a very long list of things that are wrong with me. Starting, not by chance, with the fact that I don't belong here in any way.''

''You don't belong, but you're here, aren't you?'' He retorted. ''I don't belong here either, my home is on the other side of the ocean and I won't be able to go back there as long as I live. Perhaps not even my corpse can be buried there. I don't belong here, just like you, but we're here and we need to accept that.''

''Speak for yourself. I don't know what the hell happened for you to be exiled, I don't know what kind of serial killer or wanted politician you are, but I can go home, I just need to think.''

''And you're not thinking too much? Why don't you try to take advantage of the time you have to rest, like your friend is doing?''

''She deserves to rest, not me.'' You grunted. ''I need to find a way to track down the Devil's Palm or, if my theories are right, form it nearby.''

''Form it?'' He asked, but quickly dismissed it, not wanting to make you delve into the subject. ''You don't need to think about that now, we don't even have the corpse.''

''As soon as we get the corpse, I can't waste time, I...''

''Are you that desperate to get back?''

''I can't leave Louise...''

''Louise doesn't seem desperate, nor as crazy as you seem.'' He interrupted you. ''I'm asking about you.''

You shook your head, snorted for the tenth time, and then stood up. Gyro had the honorable ability to shatter any and all remnants of peace that solitude could offer you; the silence was interrupted with the same violence as a bellbird squawking directly in your ear. And the space, by God, you were on the verge of collapse. Why did he think it would be a good idea to sit next to you on that narrow stair in the dark? If it had been in any other situation, with any other man, talking about anything else, it would have seemed comfortably romantic. But you didn't know if it was Gyro or absolutely everything that made you want to scream until your throat bled.

''Hey!'' He called out to you when he saw you walking to the paddock again, getting up and walking right behind you.

''For God's sake, what do you want?'' You stopped yourself from turning to him abruptly, because you knew you'd burst into tears the moment he saw your face. ''Why don't you go and bother Johnny, Lucy or anyone else?!''

''What the hell are you talking about?'' He looked confused, even scared. His expression would crumble into two eyes pathetically bulging with astonishment.

''You always have some stupid comment, something to annoy me. When you don't complain that I'm talking too much, you complain that I don't talk to anyone. You complain when I read too much, when I think too much, when I exist too much. Why did you come here anyway? To call me crazy and nothing else? Tell me something fucking new! Tell me something new!'' You had already lost control, and you no longer realized how loud you were shouting. ''You're not the first motherfucker to call me crazy, and you won't be the last! They paid me to go crazy in their place, they paid me to get sick in their place, and the only way I found to get rid of these motherfuckers was to get cursed! I'm cursed! I'm cursed, in cursed times, with cursed people, and you say it's time to rest?! With all the fucking resources it took me months to find the Devil's Palm and now that it's the only way home I have nothing! I have no trackers, I have no corpse, I have nothing!''

It was then that he fell silent for too long. Long enough for you to turn around to make sure he hadn't left; ignoring the fact that he would see that you were crying. But there was Gyro's face, pale and shocked.

You were tired, to say the least. You've seen it all and you could safely say that you were about to go through it all. You've seen your entire career and life goals shattered, you've felt the guilt of having ruined the lives of people who didn't deserve it, you've seen a near and bright future become distant and unreachable. You've seen your own cowardice. You have seen with your own eyes that the universe does have its hospice and you are in it. You've seen it, and now you know what's not waiting for you. There are no holidays, no promotions, no million-dollar deals, no Chandom, no compensation for lost sanity.

There's no car waiting for you, no table reserved for you. Just another man calling you crazy. The little you had - a little wine that doesn't taste of vinegar, good music and a little money every end of the month - has been lost and there is no prospect of gain. There's no prospect of anything. If everything suddenly turned out to be a lie, if nothing was real, you wouldn't care. Actually, you would feel relieved.

''Dear God, you could have just sent me to hell.'' He said, with no intention of scolding you.

''Then go to hell, Gyro.'' You replied, crossing your arms after your futile effort to get rid of the tears. ''Go to hell and let me go crazy in peace, I don't need you reminding me all the time.''

''Look...'' He began, a little embarrassed, but not wanting to apologize. ''I was just thinking that you might want to do something different tomorrow.''

''Too late.'' You said, rudely. ''Johnny already tried to take me into town. It was fun, but you can see it wasn't much help.''

''I'm not looking for a solution to your problem, I'm just offering a distraction.'' He replied. ''So you don't spend the whole day thinking about how to get home. Thinking about the corpse and the Devil's Palm.''

''And how else am I supposed to find my way home? By going to London and entering a blue telephone box?''

''You're calming down, I can see that.'' He said, almost as if he thought it was funny. ''When you start saying things I don't understand, it's usually because you're well.''

''What do you want, Gyro?'' You rushed him to conclude the offer.

''Johnny said your friend convinced Lucy to raise chickens and we need a coop.'' He explained. ''Have you ever built anything before, mandorlina?''

''You already know the answer. ''

He chuckled.

''Yes, I do. Don't worry, I'll help you. Would you like to hold some nails and hand me some tools?''

For a moment, you thought how ironic that was. In your job, it was people who passed you tools and held things for you.

''Fine.'' You took a deep breath. Do you even have a choice?

''Perfect. Then let's go inside, it's getting cold.''

#steel ball run #gyro x reader #jjba part 7 #jojos bizzare adventure #johnny joestar #diego brando #diego brando x reader #ao3fic #gyro zeppeli #johnny x reader

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welovelouisandbucky · 2 years

Text

Of welovelouisandbucky

Smut > *

Fluff > °

Angst > #

Requested > •

Series

• Something Worth to Live

Summery: With horrible circumstances in life, and toxic and abusive relationship, Y/n thinks it's better to just end things. She knows suicide is not the answer, but she's too weak to find others. One Friday night, after conjuring up some courage and mind, she heads to the bridge (that is actually famous for suicides) to end her life and that's where she meets a stranger, a really pretty, handsome and cute stranger.

Or Y/n wants to jump off the bridge and Harry is being an asshole

{on hold temporarily}

• My Forgotten Best Friend

Summary: Y/n's crazy love for art dragged her to the tattoo parlor in hopes of getting a tattoo, but instead of getting a tattoo, she got reunited with her old best friend Louis Tomlinson. A friend who disappeared one day and never came back. All the memories and feelings that she had kept locked up behind the doors came crashing down on her when she saw his face. She felt like time has stopped and the world is laughing at her for still feeling this way after 6 years and for who? The person who left her when she needed him the most and never even tried to contact her again, leaving her heartbroken and confused with so many questions. She almost fainted with all these overwhelming emotions yet she didn't, her pride would never let her live if she showed how weak she really is right now.

[on going temporarily]

Or Louis and Y/n used to be best friends until they weren't

• Faith

Summary: Y/n is single mom. She and her daughter, Faith lives alone. One day when she was little busy her daughter went missing, later she found her with their weird neighbor named Steven.

Or Y/n is teen Mom who lives alone and Steven is a bit scary....

{on hold temporarily}

One shots

Soon to be added

Headcannons

Marvel

Peter Parker with artist!reader!

Harry potter

Mattheo and Theodore headcanons

Lorenzo Berkshire headcanon•

Drabbles

Harry styles drabble*

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dangerously-human · 2 years

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Here's the thing that bugs me about S4: it undoes all the work we've done to get to know these characters, and tries to wipe the slate clean of any consequences, emotional or logical. The viewers no longer really understand where anyone stands in their relationship to Peter, because it doesn't exist. Heck, Walter spent three seasons trying to make amends for what he's done, to Peter and Olivia and the other cortexiphan children, but how much of that even happened in the amber timeline? The sins or the recompense? There's no bite to Fauxlivia's deception when she only, what, posed as her doppelganger for a couple weeks - who did she really hurt? Why are the two sides even at odds when Walternate didn't try to destroy the blueverse? This makes it easier for red and blue to forgive each other, but what are they even really forgiving?

What do you really get out of the timeline reset? An obstacle in Peter and Olivia's relationship, space for blue!Lincoln, distance from Walter and everyone else, erasing Henry, bringing Broyles back, giving Olivia a warmer relationship with Nina, nerfing Olivia's cortexiphan abilities for half a season... I don't think the Nina thing was really necessary, but if we needed something like it, I'm sure there were other options to build that alliance. Making it so our Olivia didn't go through the full cortexiphan trials makes NO sense to me in the first place, let's nix that sans qualm. And I'm firmly against erasing Henry, for a lot of reasons - so much lost potential, not just for selfishly shippy reasons or even happiness for Altlivia, but also for character work for Peter, conflict (and resolution) for Peter and Olivia...

(And, okay, I was going to make this a separate post, but I guess it fits here: the plotline resolution with Henry even at the end of S3 makes no dang sense; if half of Peter's genes was sufficient to operate The Machine, couldn't Walternate have munged something together from his DNA and Elizabeth's? At the very least, he should have had to kidnap the baby and keep him physically in The Machine.)

It would make so much more sense for everyone to have forgotten Peter as the price to build the bridge, no timeline reset. Maybe not everyone remembers him magically once Olivia does; if you want to keep some altered dynamics, fine. Enter Lincoln, on our side, and all the conflict there, including Olivia's choice once she remembers Peter (much more powerful as actively choosing the man she loved over the man she was starting to fall for, rather than simply forgetting her budding relationship with the latter). You still get all the angst with Peter deciding whether it's right to intervene when Olivia's life seems happier and less complicated without him, leading up to the cute stuff with Olivia remembering Peter. Maybe red!Liv temporarily believes her own cover story about a one-night stand, and then has to really reconcile who she believes she is with her son's origins, and there's some powerful "how far is too far" stuff for her to process (and make some big "who do we believe and what do we do about it" decisions about) with Lincoln and Charlie and heck, maybe Astrid too - and Broyles, who, okay, I haven't come up with a different way to bring back but he didn't strictly have to be the sacrifice for the great Olivia swap in S3, did he? Then there's the element of cross-universe custody and co-parenting, which maybe I'm the only one deeply invested in, but dang do I want to see it. (Enough to be the one to write it? Maybe. I've got a lot of ideas, but what I'd want to write in fix-it fic is not exactly identical to what I wish we'd gotten in canon.) Our Olivia processing that there's one more first she doesn't get to have with Peter, blended family stuff, Henry and Etta as siblings, maybe... And it adds even more weight to the decision whether to close the bridge! All without sacrificing all the character development, backstory, and motivations the show spent three seasons building.

It's frustrating because I feel like they were so close to a cohesive and satisfying storyline, had they just taken it two steps to the left. So much of what they did with S4, and I guess the latter part of S3 as well, was really good! But it doesn't make sense once you squint at it a little harder.

#personal #fringe #unwritten

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stevenuniverse-bloginfo · 4 months

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"I changed. That's the final piece. All those struggles, I learned from them, and I grew! Oh my gosh! It's not just my Gem powers I've forgotten! All this "happily ever after" stuff has made me forget the first power I ever had: the power to change!"

I DO NOT ASSOCIATE WITH REBECCA SUGAR

INFO UNDER THE CUT

CHARACTERISTICS:

Name: Steven Quartz Universe

Age: 13-16

Species: Half-Gem and Half-Human

Gender: Male

Gender pronoun: He/Him

Sexuality: Straight

Weapon: Shield

TRAITS:

Birthday: August 15

Complexion: Fair

Height (Not confirmed) from 13-16: 4'11-5'6

Weight: 145 lbs

Hair: Dark Brown

Eyes: Black

Gemstone: Pink Diamond

Gem Type: Diamond

NICKNAME(S):

Schtu-ball

Little Man

Steve-O

The Steven

Ste-van

Star Child Jr

Cutie Pie

Starlight

ALIAS:

Tiger Millionaire/Tiger Philanthropist

Peter Pizzapoppolis

Zoltron

Esteban Universidad

Rose Quartz

Pink Diamond

Steven Quartz Cutie Pie DeMayo Diamond Universe

Professional Status:

AFFILIATION(S):

Off-Colors

The Great Diamond Authority

OCCUPATION(S):

Guardian (formerly)

Healer (formerly)

Champion wrestler (formerly; as Tiger Millionaire/Tiger Philanthropist)

Fortune teller (formerly; as Zoltron)

Big Donut Cashier/Stocker (temporarily)

Monarch (temporarily)

Teacher (formerly)

Earth's ambassador (formerly)

ALIGNMENT:

Crystal Gems

PERSONAL STATUS:

Status: Alive

Relatives:

Greg Universe (father)

Rose Quartz (mother; deceased)

Greg's Aunt and Uncle (grandaunt and granduncle)

Greg's Parents (grandmother and grandfather)

Deb (grandaunt)

Andy DeMayo (first cousin once removed)

Greg's Grandfather (great-grandfather)

Watermelon Stevens (creations)

Pumpkin (creation)

Cactus Steven (creation)

Topiary Stevens (creations)

WIKI:

Steven Quartz Universe is the titular main protagonist of the Steven Universe franchise. He is the son of Greg Universe and Rose Quartz, the only known hybrid of a human and a Gem and the first Crystal Gem of human descent. As a result of his parentage, Steven is an extraordinarily unique being with innate powers beyond that of normal humans and Gems. While he was only a child, Steven steadily grew from a tag-along to the Crystal Gems into the heart of the team thanks to his kind-hearted nature and resourcefulness.

Steven is devoted to protecting humanity and helping those in need just as Rose Quartz did, and though her monumental legacy once forced Steven to live in her shadow, he has since surpassed her by ending the authoritarian practices of the Great Diamond Authority and establishing peace across the galaxy. However, the consequences of his mother's mistakes continue to haunt Steven and those he cares about to his growing frustration. Additionally, as his friends and family continue to grow and start to go out into the world and beyond, Steven has begun to struggle with his own self-identity and what he wants to do with the rest of his life. He has also started coming to terms with suppressed trauma that he has built up over the course of his years of adventures and near-death experiences with Gems.

At the end of the series, however, after holding his feelings in for so long culminates in him transforming into a giant Gem monster after coming to the conclusion that he is a monster himself, Steven's friends and family manage to get through to him with the power of love. In the months following, he decides to leave Beach City to go on a road trip on his own to see the world and find himself.

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kurt-wagner-official · 2 years

Text

Post #36: NM issues 4-7

Just four issues in, the book has a new status quo, with the X-Men back and the New Mutants no longer being the top dogs at Xavier's school. Later on, this book will distinguish itself from its sister with weirder and higher concept sci-fi and fantasy, but for this issue, Claremont leans the opposite direction, with Stevie Hunter being harassed over the phone by an anonymous villain. Meanwhile, Xavier gathers the young students and tells them that although he's been influenced by the Brood inside him, he's now free of it and still believes in the New Mutants. He asks them to give him a chance, and they all agree, because that's what he gave them. Xi'an tells Xavier about Stevie's stalker, and he tells the group to come up with a plan to help her so they can learn from the experience. This really is a very strange school. Afterwards, he confides in Lilandra his frustrations with Dani, who rebels at every opportunity. Lilandra theorizes that she's afraid of herself and of both failure and success, so she tries to defy any authority she sees. He says that he's learned from his past mistakes and this time he'll try to work with the problem student rather than against her. Of course, he's learned and forgotten this lesson many times so far, but I'll give him the benefit of the doubt because it's a new book and a fresh start for him. The team has come up with their plan: Berto puts a trace on Stevie's phone, and they trace the next call to a payphone. From there, Rahne tracks the scent to the local high school, where as luck would have it a dance is currently going on. It's the mixer that the kids were invited to by some other kids they met in town a few issues ago, so they go in. They discover the culprit is Peter Bristow, a member of Stevie's dance class. He runs to a car, and Sam chases after him, but he gets away when Sam saves a mother and daughter that were in the way of his car. In his rescue of these civilians, he pulls off his first successful sharp turn. It's a win Sam needed after three issues of beating himself up over mistakes. Peter crashes the car and flees into an abandoned building. There's an interesting moment with Rahne where she wishes she could live forever as a wolf while she tracks him in there. Rahne, as a character, takes two simple concepts- a person who loves her powers and one who thinks they're sinful- and mashes them together into one fascinating conundrum of a person. She tracks him down, and he attacks her until Xi'an possesses him. Because fate is terrible, this is an explosives factory, and the burning crashed car sets off an explosion that our heroes barely survive. Later, Xavier asks Dani to use her powers on Peter, which she feels icky about, but she obeys his order. Peter has a twisted affection for Stevie, but his parents have abused him all his life, and he thinks that's the only way to show love. When she was always kind to him, he thought it was a sign she didn't love him, so he wanted to make her miserable. Xavier calls CPS, and the plot comes to its conclusion. It's a horrifying ending, and there's sincerity in the sympathy that Claremont and the characters feel for poor Peter, but it also feels very after school special-y, especially when Xavier shows up at the end to tell them why they should always fight for a better world where stuff like this doesn't happen. All in all, an okay issue, but Claremont needs some time to adjust to the coming of age genre.

In issue 5, out heroes go up against their first proper supervillain. It opens with Xavier trying to walk and collapsing in pain, temporarily disabling his telepathic powers. The New Mutants are at a fair with Stevie, where a team of motorcyclists that Berto is a fan of is about to perform. The group is actually the superhero team Team America, who had their own book which I have not read and didn't know was a thing until this issue. The show is interrupted by Viper, the on-and-off leader of Hydra, and the Silver Samurai, a mutant named Kenuichio Harada with the power to energize his sword, who attack the cyclists to draw out their mysterious ally, the Dark Rider. The Dark Rider does appear, but to everyone's shock, it's the unconscious Dani. Silver Samurai escapes with her, and the rest of the team fails to stop Viper's minions without Xavier's guidance. Viper, believing Dani to be a member of Team America, blackmails them into stealing something for her. Before they can leave to get it, Xavier finds them and tells them they're mutants. The Dark Rider is a product of their collective psychic subconscious, which finds and possesses a host to fight with them in the form of the Dark Rider. Dani was the latest victim of their unknowing power, so Xavier demands they accept his training and assistance to save her. Berto is upset that the New Mutants are being sidelined for this. Actually, he's been upset most of this issue, and when he hasn't it's because he's busy flirting with all of the girls on the team. So far he's by far the least developed of the group, which is disappointing and stereotypical. Eventually he'll be evolved into my favorite of these five, but not today. Our heroes decide not to wait for Xavier to train Team America and set off on their own.

The kids attack the office of Nguyen Ngoc Coy, Xi'an's uncle and a San Francisco crime lord, who they hope can lead them to Viper. Some expository dialogue reveals that he betrayed her parents and corrupted her brother by employing him. She threatens to control him and make him walk off the roof, but he calls her bluff. Berto seems ready to kill him anyway, but Sam stops him. He agrees if Xi'an agrees to work for him, and she hesitantly accepts out of desperation. Meanwhile, the frustrated Xavier continues training Team America. But weirdly it seems like he's more focused on teaching them teamwork than about their powers. I feel like they should have teamwork down since they had their own book, but I haven't read it so maybe they all hated each other there. Or this could be Claremont's bad habit of putting down other teams to make his own shine. As Dani tried to think of an escape, The Silver Samurai tells Viper that Shingen, revealed to be his father, has died in Tokyo, and what he sees as his rightful inheritance has been stolen by his sister Mariko. He and Viper plan to go kill her as soon as they're done with this evil plot. Now that their training montage is done, Team America goes to steal the thing Viper wanted, a crystal from an A.I.M. base. They get it, but some of them seem to blow up, and a mysterious psychic attack takes out Xavier. The New Mutants locate and attack Viper's base and engage in battle with her minions. In the confusion, Dani escapes, but she and Rahne are attacked by Silver Samurai. Meanwhile, Team America miraculously survived and have a heartfelt conversation and unlock their true potential. I'm not gonna go into it cause they aren't the focus of this blog. Working together, the New Mutants drive the Samurai and Viper to retreat. Just when all seems safe, Xi'an has a hallucination of a horrible voice threatening her (she had the same hallucination when they arrived). Xavier finally re-establishes his mindlink with them just before Viper blows up the island base with them on it.

Issue 7 opens a few days later, and we learn that all of the New Mutants survived except Xi'an, who's MIA. The others are grieving and blaming themselves, while the X-Men have arrived to help search for her and her killers. Kurt tries to bring hot cocoa to the kids, and they're all terrified of him and Rahne calls him demon. He's good natured and cheerful about it, but it's very sad to watch because we know it hurts him. Xavier has news for Berto- his mother Nina is here. Through his conversation with her, we learn that Berto's father does know he's with the X-Men at Xavier's, which is good clarification cause we haven't actually seen Berto interact with his father once. His mom is an archaeologist who travels the world, and she's inviting the kids on a dig. Berto is pissed at Xavier for wanting to send them off on a vacation, but Xavier has a secret reason- he knows there was some evil voice that attacked him and confronted Xi'an, and he thinks it's taken her. He wants the kids out of danger while the X-Men confront it. Berto runs off and smashes some rocks, angry that for all his strength he was helpless to save both Juliana and Xi'an. Sam comforts him by talking about his own father, who died and left Sam with responsibility that he never expected. He says that life and death are both unfair, and you have to roll with the punches to survive. It's definitely the best character moment either of them have had in the series so far. They all decide to go with Berto's mom and give Xavier the space he needs to continue the search for Xi'an. A few days later, they arrive in Rio at Berto's childhood home. It's a mansion that his father Emmanuel worked in as a servant as a young boy. He grew up to make his fortune so he could buy it and be a lord where he and his own mother used to wipe the floors. Now he's grown up, but his riches have turned sour and caused rifts in his marriage. He and his wife argue over dinner- he thinks she's an idealistic fool going off on adventures, and she says he's killing the world for his own profit. It makes all the kids very uncomfortable. The next day they go with Nina to a carnival. Just like the last few times they all went on an outing, they have some fun for a few pages until something goes wrong, this time the kidnapping of Nina by Hellfire goons led by a big guy with an axe named Axe. They get away, but Rahne tracks them. They can't think of a plan to free her until a joke from Sam makes Berto come up with a plan based on Magnum, PI. Rahne's howling puts the goons on edge before Dani's mirages lure them upstairs and finish them off. Sam flies in and gets Nina out while Berto takes out Axe. After the last few issues, the team, and especially Berto, needed a win, and this was their first really successful mission without adult supervision. But their troubles are far from over, as we see in the cliffhanger: Emmanuel orchestrated the kidnapping with Shaw. Overall, this was my favorite issue of the series so far. Berto and Sam got their first solid and complex development, and the whole team proved themselves on their own for the first time. The plot of the book is about start getting really weird, which is where we’ll find most of it’s most famous stories, but that wouldn’t be possible without the relatively grounded character driven stories we’ve had so far.

#wes reads xmen

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yan-sideblog · 2 years

Note

What would happen if the yandere boys found out that reader was forgetting/refusing to eat/drink because they have work to do?

I've kinda just forgotten to eat sometimes then it hits me like "Damn stomach stfu"

Jack

Oh good ol Jackie boy ain't havin none of that nonsense.

Will absolutely refuse to allow them to work anymore that day and insist they relax while he fixes them something.

"Missing meals really isn't good for your health sunshine you know that.".

If they're being particularly stubborn about it he'll end up posessing them to make them take a break.

"Trust me when i say this is for your own good.".

Alan

Ren

Pre them "coming to live with him" he's not around nearly as often as he likes due to his work.

Will hide school books until after tbey eat something and take a nap, 50/50 if he ends up returning them or not.

At the very least insists on them having a full breakfast.

While he's not fond of the situation he does like getting to taje care of them.

"You really should relax and let me take care of ya doe eyes.".

He'll blame everyone and everything else even if it was 100% just Y/N being stubborn/forgetful.

Peter

Will leave little notes around their apartment reminding them to eat & take breaks.

If it's computer eork he'll hack & make it temporarily inoperable.

Can't really cook but will do his best to leave them healthy snacks.

"It's important to remember to take care of yourself angel."

Yeah whatever it is that's making them do that to themself isn't gonna be around much longer.

Job? Friends? School? Doesn't matter so long as he eliminates the problem.

Insists they let him get them something to eat to eat with the two settling down for a nap afterwards.

He'll use the situation as an example why they need to stay with him always.

"It's really not worth you exhausting yourself like that darling.".

#jack #something's wrong with sunny day jack #sunny day jack #alan #my dear hatchet man #ren 14 days with you #peter #your boyfriend game #swwsdj #sdj #mdhm #14dwy #ybf #sdj headcanons #mdhm headcanons #14dwy headcanons #ybf headcanons #anonymous #yan-sideblog

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curseofaphrodite · 3 years

Text

I hate accidents (except when we went from friends to this)

peter parker x fem!reader

summary: this is heavily surrounded on paper rings by taylor swift. Very cheesy and fluffy with all the main troupes - truth or dare, childhood friends to lovers, and peter being hopelessly in love <3 masterlist | requested by anon

When Peter was in kindergarten, he was always cooped up in the craft corner. He loved being surrounded by colorful papers and glitter, and making random objects out of them was how he spent most of his time. None of them were masterpieces, but he had fun. The only proper thing he made was a red paper ring, and little Peter hurried over to you to hand it over.

For reasons he couldn't explain, the other kids had started laughing. He felt hurt, and thought of running away back to the classroom. You could have laughed with the others too, but you smiled and slid it in your finger, admiring it as if it was a real diamond.

Peter decided right then that he'll never let you go. He called you his best friend, because he was too young to know it was love.

He had forgotten about the incident — until years later, when an international popstar released a song named Paper Rings, which immediately brought him embarrassing memories from way back when. It didn't help that the song was catchy too.

It was one of those moments that haunted him forever, making his stomach churn in shame whenever he thought about it. You had obviously forgotten the incident, but what if you remember? Most important of all, the song was a constant reminder that he loved you, that he always loved you.

Sooner or later, that fragile secret was about to come out — just like every other secret he had. Heck, he hadn't even planned on telling you that he's Spiderman. It was an accident, and an idiotic one at that too.

"Ah, did you start the movie?"

It was a week ago, and Peter usually dropped by on Thursday nights to watch comedy-dramas, which was sort of your tradition by now. Your parents don't allow anyone after 11 pm, so he sneaks in through your well-placed window. Only this time, you weren't sure it was Peter.

"I got held up, had uh- homework. It's all done now," he continued, dropping beside you in bed. He dug through the popcorn bucket in a way that they overpoured, something you always hated. When he heard no protests, he finally caught your frozen stare.

"What? Do I have something on my face?" he asked slowly.

"Yes," you nodded in awe.

He touched his face then, and realized that like the big idiot he was, he had forgotten to take off his goddamn mask.

"Fuck."

See what I mean? Secrets weren't his strong suit, especially when it came to you. Every day he was fighting an inner battle of telling you how he feels and holding that information out, just so he wouldn't mess up your existing friendship. Did that make him selfish or smart? He didn't want to know.

And his biggest battle yet arrived in the form of a party.

He usually avoided them, but it was in your house and he hated missing anything you hosted. You put a lot of time to make sure all your friends leave the parties having a good time and hopefully alive — and he stays behind to help with the mess.

This time, he broke the pattern.

He had arrived at the party half an hour late, something you didn’t mind. He had his superhero duties, didn't he? But when he walked in, a group of people along with you were playing truth or dare, and he suddenly wished he was back at that alleyway fighting monsters. What’s so bad about this game, one might ask.

“Peter, come play!”

That.

He hated playing in any sort of game that would lower his senses. Since becoming a superhero, he became more vulnerable to freaking out over the tiniest detail. He didn't accidentally want to out himself as Spiderman.

“I think someone’s calling me!” he said swiftly, pointing to the kitchen. You stood up from the couch and pulled on his sleeves, and he followed like a temporarily happy puppy.

“Where were we at?” One of your friends asked, clapping his hands. “Yes, Rick; tell us about the best blowjob you’ve got.”

Peter almost choked on air, wondering what fresh hell waited for him when it was his turn.

Despite his worry, his first dare was to drink three mini-bottles of beer, which he wasn't a fan of, but at least it wasn't something embarrassing.

But then they started playing another round, and another, and another. It felt like he was testing fate each time. Anytime someone could say—

“I dare you to kiss the prettiest person in the room,” Ned said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Fuck.

“Ned!” Peter exclaimed in shock, not expecting the betrayer to be someone so close to him.

“Did you not want me to say that?” Ned whispered, a little drunk himself. He knew about his best friend's crush on you and constantly tried to play the matchmaker. And constantly failed.

“Of course not!”

“I- okay. I want to change my dare!” Ned said loudly, earning a few groans. “Everyone’s pretty here so it's not fair to make him choose.”

Peter sighed in relief.

“So I'll choose for him. I dare him to kiss Y/N!”

“Wait, what?”

His brain went into overdrive, and when he looked your way, he was surprised to see you shrugging. Was she actually going to do this? So far into the night, everyone had done the making-out dares splendidly, so it'd be weird if you weren't up for it.

Peter started internally freaking out.

He watched you stand up and make way to him, watched you sit beside him with a laugh, watched you lean in — knowing the hair on his skin was standing up, knowing that if you actually kiss him, he can't hide his feelings any longer.

If you kiss him, he'll be blissfully doomed.

So when you leaned in casually, he jumped out of the couch like a cat on hot water. You frowned.

"I- I have to go," he said, pointing to his watch awkwardly, fumbling his words in front of you like he did a hundred times before.

"Peter—" you began, but he was already gone, disappearing into the crowds and eventually into the night.

His favorite method of dealing with things was to ignore them altogether. So when he came over to your house the next day, he had his mind set on not talking about it. Things would go back to normal, and everything would be alright. Expect you didn't have the same plan.

"Why did you storm off last night?" you asked the minute he entered the room. His mouth fell slightly open, but that's all he did.

"Seriously, if you didn't wanna kiss me, you could have just said so," you added. "I didn't know you were uncomfortable, I'm sorry."

"No, no, I wasn't uncomfortable, I think not?" Peter questioned himself, scratching the back of his neck. "I had places to be. I sensed a robber next door."

"I call bullshit."

"Okay fine, I just didn't want us to kiss and make things awkward!" Peter said... awkwardly.

You laughed. "Awkward already happened when you disappeared off the face of the earth at the possibility of one kiss."

He softened. "You know what I mean."

"I don't, actually," you stood up from the bed, shrugging. "I kept thinking you'd come back to the party or call me; but you left me hanging like I did something bad."

"Y/N."

"And don't say make-things-awkward shit again. We are best friends—"

"I fucking know that!" He interrupted, then gasped and covered his mouth. "I didn't mean to get mad- I know I'm your best friend and that's all I ever be, but you can't think one kiss won't make any difference because it will. It will for me! I can't kiss you for a second just to let you go."

You blinked in confusion. "What?"

Stop talking, stop talking! His brain said, but he already made a fool of himself, so he decided to ramble on.

"I can't have you hate me." He gestured to him like you weren't looking at him already. "You don't know what it's like to love someone who'll never look at you the same. I don't care. It's not your fault. But I'm not kissing you if you don't mean it. If I'm kissing you, I want you. Ever since I gave you a paper ring at kindergarten — which I did, by the way, I know you don't remember it — but ever since then, I've desperately been in love with-"

"Peter, take a breath," you interrupted, but to no avail. He kept rambling on, and you were getting late for your classes, so you decided to get ready during the conversation.

"You're my best friend and I can't lose you and god, I already regret saying anything especially since you don't apparently give a shit."

"What?" you looked up from the bag. "I'm listening, I swear."

"WHO PACKS A BAG WHILE LISTENING TO A CONFESSION OF UNDYING LOVE?"

"It's not really 'undying.' Good confession, not great though." You laughed and added, "I'm just kidding, Peter. You're cute when you're flustered."

"YOU'RE STILL PACKING!"

"And getting you this." You opened your drawer and took out a box, then threw it at him.

Catching it in confusion, he opened it quickly, only to find a red paper ring staring back.

His red paper ring.

"You kept it." It was his turn to blink in surprise.

You smiled. "Yes, I did."

The very next day, Peter burst into your room with the air of someone who had just won a war.

“I GOT THEM!” he yelled, shoving the tickets into your hands. “It was hard, and I almost considered hacking into the system, but I got them.”

“Legally?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Eh, 90% legally.”

You laughed, hoping he was lying. “And when’s this for?”

“17th,” he recited off. “It’s the tour of her latest album but if we scream hard enough, maybe she’ll sing Paper Rings too.”

“First date at a Taylor Swift concert? You may be the best boyfriend ever.”

He blushed, rubbing the back of his neck in a half-flustered, half-proud way.

You were glad he didn't do anything extreme though. He always went overboard on things he didn't know about. Like dates. The concert sounded way better than something ridiculously theatric like—

“If you’re impressed by that, wait till you see the personalized fireworks,” he said, folding his hands.

Yup, there it was. You sighed, knowing you're gonna have to get used to the dramatic dates.

—————

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heartofspells · 2 years

Note

For your ask game only if you have time and yes. I know what time it is.

Sirius surprising Remus on his birthday or a random holiday with something romantic and sweet, something special just for them but like he goes all out in true Sirius Black fashion. Pure. Chaos.

Can be either in school or out. Smut up to you.

Firstly, it was midnight. Midnight. You were meant to be asleep. Just because I don't sleep doesn't not mean you're supposed to follow in my chaotic footsteps. You're meant to be the healthy one, we've discussed this. Stop. It. Sirius will be angry. (Is that a proper scolding?)

Secondly, this is not a drabble by any stretch of the imagination, and I will never claim it to be such. Sirius is out of control, so enjoy that. I'll probably be posting this to AO3 for anyone who would prefer to read it there, because I'm in love with it, length and all.

Also, smut. Have fun!

It comes to Sirius, as most random bursts of revelations and ideas do, completely out of nowhere. He's on his hands and knees on the floor, back bowing, chest heaving from exertion. There's a ratty old flannel in one hand and a toothbrush that looks suspiciously like his own in his other. They're in detention again, him, James, and Peter – Remus had managed to escape, somehow – scrubbing the tiles of the third-floor boys' lav until they gleam, until "I can see my reflection in them, Black, stop arguing," as McGonagall had so eloquently set forth.

It's quiet as they clean other than Peter's random bouts of humming Christmas tunes that sets Sirius' teeth on edge, eventually causing him to hex his friend in retribution, small red and green boils bursting over the skin of his arms. Peter yelps and glares at Sirius, but Sirius ignores him, fully trapped within his revelation.

"It's Moony's birthday in two days," he mumbles out, the weight of it pressing on his vocal cords.

James looks up, blinking at him behind his glasses, vaguely disoriented, as though Sirius has pulled him from deep thoughts of very important things. "Yeah. And?" He seems thoroughly uninterested, like Sirius' entire world isn't currently crashing down around him.

Peter's eyes shift to the side before settling back on Sirius. "You didn't honestly forget, did you?" he says, benignly scratching at one of the green knobs near his elbow.

"No!"

"You forgot," huffs out Peter, not seeming surprised. "Shame on you."

"I did not forget!" denies Sirius. But all right, yes, he actually had forgotten. Temporarily. He's not sure who can blame him. His every thought and most of his focus is finely tailored to all things Remus Lupin. Small (large) slippages are to be expected, or so he tells himself. And he had remembered. Remus never had to know. "Don't tell him."

Peter smirks at him and Sirius produces a flashing red lump on the tip of his friend's nose. He smirks back and says wickedly, "Rudolf." Peter's hands clap over his nose and he scowls at Sirius.

"So you forgot," says James, ignoring the hexes and scowling and teasing. He's awfully good at that when he wants to be, or so Sirius thinks. "Big deal. Sneak down to Honeydukes. Get him some chocolate. You're all set. He never has to be the wiser."

"What?" Sirius nearly squeaks in outrage. "No. It's seventh year, Prongs. His last here at Hogwarts. It's got to be…it has to be…to be special."

"It's his birthday. We should always make it special. You, in particular," comments Peter, poking at the boil jiggling off the tip of his nose in disgust.

"That's what I'm saying," grumbles Sirius. "You lot never listen. I give him chocolate every day. I have a whole stash, specifically for Remus alone. And don't you get any ideas, Potter," he threatens when he sees the interest spreading over his friend's face. "Hands off the Moony stash."

James pouts. "I never got a stash," he mumbles dejectedly.

"You got me. It's enough," says Sirius flippantly, waving him off with a careless hand. "No, this has got to be better than some run-of-the-mill chocolate. Much better." He ponders on it for a while, the other two watching him warily before Sirius' eyes suddenly widen and light up. "Time is it? I need the library!"

"Oi! Get back here! It's your fault we're in this mess!" shouts James as Sirius lurches to his feet and races for the door.

"Padfoot! You have to charm these away," whinges Peter in reference to the boils still covering a large chunk of his body. Sirius doesn't stop, disappearing from the room, and Peter huffs again in defeat, turning to look at James oddly. "Did he just say he's going to the library?" he asks in bafflement.

James only shrugs, grabbing Sirius' toothbrush and stowing it in his pocket for safekeeping.

----------

"Moony," coos Sirius on the morning of the tenth. Remus doesn't stir, and Sirius presses his nose into the skin of his neck. "Moony." A soft grunt of sound emerges, but nothing more. Sirius huffs in mild frustration. Remus is the worst to wake up when he doesn't want to rise. "Remus!" Sirius punctuates the name by licking a stripe all the way up the side of the man's neck to his ear.

Remus jerks at the noise and sensation, his body jolting upwards a little before he drops back down against the pillows. "Whosat?"

Sirius grins, nipping and then kissing the shell of Remus' ear before sitting back a little. "Oh, good. You're up. Good morning. Happy birthday," he remarks casually. "Lessons have been cancelled for the day. Something about all the available classrooms being flooded or something, I dunno. It'll likely be Sunday before they're back in any sort of working order."

Remus stares at Sirius suspiciously. "Really?" He rolls his eyes up to the ceiling and holds them there for a minute before looking back at Sirius, already seeming mildly exasperated and defeated. "What did you do, Pads? Water's easily cleaned with magic. What did you do?"

"Nothing!" denies Sirius, holding up his hands innocently, but he knows the smirk he can't quite control is giving him away. "Honestly, I never touched those classrooms. And I never said what they were flooded with, just that they were flooded. Could be water, I suppose. Or it could be swamps, maybe frog spawn, because that stuff seeps into everything, we know that from experience. It could be mashed potatoes, too. That's a thought. Bobotuber pus is a nasty thing to clean away. Possibly even a few lost, dazed chickens. Or it could be all the above. I just don't know, Remus. Regardless, they are flooded with some manner of something and there are no classes on your birthday. Huzzah!"

Remus whimpers faintly, his entire body falling lax under the blankets as he clearly gives up. Sirius ignores it, mostly, shifting himself over top of his boyfriend, his lips working over the corner of his jaw appreciatively.

"Breakfast is soon. Are you hungry?" Remus grunts a little under Sirius' weight, his head tilting back as the dark head moves down the line of his neck to his collarbone. "Mm, thought so. We've still got a bit of time to wait, though. I could feed you some chocolate, but I think that would ruin your appetite. Maybe I could give you something else, just for the purposes of distraction."

Sirius feels Remus shudder beneath him, gooseflesh raising on his skin under the path Sirius' mouth makes down his chest and abdomen. Sirius lifts his gaze, meeting Remus', the brown of his eyes slowly filling with black as he watches Sirius move further down the length of his body. Sirius smirks at him, and he feels the other man's hips jerk a little beneath him in response as Sirius continues to sink down, lifting the sheets over his head and hiding himself from view of Remus' watchful eyes.

Sirius' lips and tongue work over Remus' hips and then along the inner side of each of his thighs, watching as his cock twitches at the attention, the tip leaking profusely, waiting and ready. Sirius licks his lips as he moves back up, swiping his tongue from base to head and then back down. Remus utters a surprised sound outside the cocoon of the sheets over Sirius' head, and he takes that as all the encouragement he needs, sucking the shaft into his mouth, tongue teasing over the slit, lapping up everything he can before sinking down slowly until Remus is filling the back of his throat.

Remus arches from the mattress, a low moan emerging from the parted lips Sirius can see so clearly in his imagination. He can picture Remus biting down on his lower lip, trying to restrain some of it back, trying to keep himself still, keep his hips from thrusting up so he doesn't choke Sirius by accident. Sirius doesn't really care. It's the other's birthday, he wants him to have whatever he desires. He hums around the length in his mouth encouragingly as his tongue works diligently over the thick vein on its underside.

When Remus still remains locked in place, Sirius rolls his eyes as he pushes back down, allowing his throat to flex in a swallow, just enough to send Remus keening. As he does so, he casts a silent spell, one he'd mastered long ago without the need of a wand, slicking his fingers and slotting two inside Remus with a slow, easy press.

Remus' hips do jerk upwards then, mostly in surprise, a ragged sounding gasp echoing inside their closed bed hangings. Sirius hums again in approval, his other hand maneuvering under Remus' arse to urge him to move more. His boyfriend seems to hesitate, but Sirius only hollows his cheeks as he sucks in, sliding his mouth up over his twitching shaft, nudging with his hand insistently. Remus begins to move then, thrusting up slowly while he also pushes down against Sirius' delving fingers, but it isn't long before he's moving with near abandon, fucking himself into Sirius' mouth and throat.

Sirius can feel the bedsheets tugging beneath them as Remus winds his fingers into the fabric and pulls. His other hand appears under the material, searching out Sirius' hair and threading through it. He holds his head in place, and Sirius lets him willingly, simply taking what he's given and allowing his tongue to fly freely as he slots in a third finger, the digits stretching and diving. He hooks them up after a moment, searching for that sweet spot, knowing instantly when he's found it because Remus' hips rut up sharply and still for a couple seconds in Sirius' mouth, a startled gasp ripping from his throat.

Sirius grins around him, taking the brief opportunity to swallow, forcing another moan from Remus' lips before he moves his head up and circles his cockhead with his exploring tongue. His fingers crook again, and Remus is panting, his hips starting back up, thrusting without rhythm, just sporadic, desperate movements.

"Fuck, I'm close," he warns. Sirius chuckles around Remus' cock, feeling the other man tense under the vibrations, but Sirius gives one final suck up before releasing him with a pop of sound, removing his fingers as he does so.

Remus groans at the loss, but Sirius only shifts up, drifting a finger of his clean hand over his lover's lips as he uses his other hand to push Remus' thighs up, spreading them wider. "Shh," he soothes before he kisses him, slow and deep. "I've got you, baby. Just lay back and feel it."

Sirius kisses him again, swallowing Remus' moan of anticipation. He casts his spell once more, using his hand to slick up his own cock before he's pushing in slowly, Remus' chest arching up against his own. Sirius savors the feeling, the tightness encircling him, the heat, the way Remus hisses out a breath of air through his teeth, the way his body thrums under Sirius'. He keeps his eyes open and watches Remus' face as it pulls into different expressions of pinched pleasure.

When he's buried as deeply as he can go, Sirius sits still for as long as he can stand it. He lavishes kisses and gentle, biting nips to Remus' jaw and chin before he finally begins to move, shallowly at first until he's pulling back, almost out, and then thrusting back in more sharply. Remus cries out a little under him, hands clutching at Sirius' sides, fingers digging in, clawing, silently begging for more.

Sirius knows all his little intricacies, his subtle tells, the ones that don't require words anymore, just as Remus knows his. He increases his pace, adding more of a rock to his hips as he angles himself differently, and then Remus is stuttering out a gasp as Sirius connects with his prostate, his face beautiful under the spreading bliss of the sensation. Sirius releases his own moan as Remus clenches around him, his head dropping into the curve of the man's neck, skin slapping between them in a glorious way as he continues to drive in, nailing the sweet spot with every thrust.

Remus is writhing beneath him as Sirius wraps his arms around his boyfriend, holding him close, his abdomen sliding over Remus' cock with every movement. They're both close now, Sirius able to tell Remus' orgasm is mounting by the twitching and slow tensing of his muscles, the rigidness filling his legs, Sirius' own building inside him like a tight coil of searing heat. He's nearly ready to crash over, only waiting long enough for Remus to hopefully fall first, when the bed curtains are parted and James is squealing in shock beside them.

"For fuck's sake, Prongs!" shouts Sirius, straightening up and lunging for the hangings, jerking them closed again. "You'd think you would have learned by now!"

"I'm sorry," comes James' frantic apology. "I just wanted to tell Moony happy birthday before you stole him away."

"Come back later. Fuck." Sirius quickly recasts the silencing charm that had been disturbed with the opening of the drapes before turning to Remus. The other man has fallen mostly still, his cock gone almost soft between them, eyes wide as he clenches down, trying to expel Sirius, mortification clear on his face.

Sirius huffs in frustration, pushing in deeper, keeping himself nestled inside. He'd rather be slowly eaten alive by a gaggle of flobberworms than let James Potter steal this away from Remus. He bends low again, his hand coming up and covering Remus' mouth just as it opens to speak, stopping the damning words before they can emerge.

"Hey, no," he says, fixing his eyes on Remus'. "Ignore it. James doesn't exist. Just me. Focus on me." Sirius pushes his hips forward a little more, gaining just a touch more depth that has Remus' eyes rolling and fluttering slightly. Sirius smiles. "Don't I feel good? You do. Tight and warm. Perfect. No one else exists, baby. Just you and me. That's all we need, right? Only us and this." He grinds in more, punctuating his point as he nudges against Remus' prostate again, feeling his cock slowly fill back up between them as he utters a small moan behind Sirius' hand. "That's right. Just like that. Keep looking at me."

Remus' eyes are fixed on him, almost unblinking. Sirius smiles down at him, fingers smoothing over the prominent lines that have settled into his face, soothing them away as he slowly begins rocking his hips. Remus moans again, his eyes fluttering, though they don't close, still looking up at Sirius, not breaking the contact of their gazes.

Sirius growls under the heat of those brown eyes locked on him, his pace amping back up until the mattress is shaking under the force. Remus clings to him, his legs wrapping around, urging Sirius closer to him, blunt nails raking. It all builds again rather quickly considering their interruption so close to their mutual ends. Remus arches off the bed as Sirius thrusts in perfectly, and then he's spilling between them with a ragged cry of Sirius' name on his tongue. The sound in his ears and the tightening of the other man's muscles is all it takes to pull Sirius' orgasm out along with Remus, Sirius' hips stuttering in their rhythm as he fills his lover before falling still and collapsing over him.

"Fucking hell," he manages to breath out into Remus' neck when he's able to speak again. "Thought I'd lost you there for a minute."

Remus groans suddenly through his own breathless pants, the hands that had been drifting up and down Sirius' back lifting to cover his face. "James," he moans out in horror. "Fuck, he saw us."

Sirius wraps his fingers around his boyfriend's wrists and manages to remove the hands blocking his face. "Like it's the first time?" he offers, probably relatively unhelpfully. "Doubt it will be the last. He's a nosy bugger with boundary issues. I'm surprised you haven't accepted that yet. He'll be fine and so will you."

Remus glares down at him, though there's no real heat within it. Sirius merely shrugs his shoulders. "Breakfast?" he asks, because he wants to move away from the subject and get their day going. Sirius has plans.

The other man huffs in exasperation but finally nods. Sirius pushes himself up higher, stealing a long kiss before he finally rolls off Remus and reaches through the bed hangings for his wand. He flicks it between them, cleaning up the mess and then provides Remus with the pajama trousers abandoned at the end of the bed from the night before. He watches for a long moment as Remus wriggles his way into them before forcing his attention away, tugging his own on as Remus grabs for his shirt, always covering up far more than necessary within the confines of the dorm. Sirius knows it's to hide the scars, though he doesn't understand it much. Sirius obviously loves them, has made that perfectly clear to the other man, and their other two friends have seen them time and time again, not showing much regard for them or drawing any attention to their crosshatching patterns over his pale skin.

But still, Remus always makes a conscious point to remain fully clothed when outside the general privacy of the bed they now share. It had taken Sirius months to get him to expose more than small, necessary strips of flesh completely, slowly easing Remus' fears over time and with hard-earned trust. He relishes that trust now, covets it and keeps it held close and secure, safely tucked away from everyone else that might try to poke at it or destroy it.

Which is why, as Sirius slips from the curtains and out into the dorm, he whomps James around the back of his head on his way to their shared bath. His friend mumbles another half-embarrassed apology that only leaves Sirius to roll his eyes dismissively.

Sirius goes about preparing for his day quickly, shaving and scrubbing at his face and teeth over the sink basin, only slowing down when Remus steps easily into his shower after he's finished with his traditional, yearly tackle from Peter and James. Sirius is, of course, forced to pin him to the tile wall and rain many more lavishing, reverent kisses over the skin of his neck and shoulders and chest, delaying their start a little longer.

When they finally emerge, the foursome descends from the tower together, James finding Lily on the way and pulling her with them, much to her less than well-hidden amusement. When they reach the Great Hall, Sirius is delighted to see the spread over the Gryffindor table. Yorkshire puddings, one of Remus' favorites, served with rich chocolate gravy-like sauce as an added treat. He watches as the brown eyes light up when Remus notices, glancing over at Sirius with a searching look. Sirius raises his eyebrows but doesn't say anything in response, simply settling down on the bench beside him.

The puddings had been an immense feat of Sirius' charms. He'd bribed the elves with everything he had, redirecting their schedule to something far less common. They'd resisted, fearful of punishment from the staff, but Sirius hadn't flagged or faltered. He'd promised all manner of things, even a decent amount of more rule-breaking to achieve his much-needed end until the creatures had finally reluctantly agreed.

They've both just filled their plates, Remus eagerly pouring the chocolate over his pudding, when the owls arrive, soaring and fluttering their wings overhead like a maelstrom. The birds are chaotic this morning when they land on the table as Remus discards the gravy, their movements harried, upsetting several plates and tureens. Feathers and other stray bits land in the dark sauce, and even with cleaning charms, it's still not set right enough to ingest, leaving their breakfast sorely lacking from its intended purpose. Sirius huffs as Remus pushes his ruined plate away, settling on eating some undisturbed fruit and slices of toast instead.

Sirius quickly checks his mental list as he silently mopes, shoulders slumping and irritation running high.

Sex: Completed, but barely. Massive interruption in the form of one James 'Prongs' Potter. Slight failure.

Breakfast: Ruined. Completely. No coming back from the owls' destruction.

He exhales a sigh and tries to focus his thoughts forward to his other plans. So their morning hadn't been as successful as he'd originally hoped. They still didn't have classes for the day. That had gone off without a hitch thanks to James and Peter, as well as Lily, who had devised a way to keep the professors from pinning it on their heads, all for the sake of Remus and his birthday. And Sirius still had enough planned throughout the day to hopefully rectify the failures that seemed to be following them. This catastrophe isn't a problem.

With this in mind, Sirius pulls Remus from the table once he's finished eating, bids the others farewell distractedly as James passes him a bag, and tugs his boyfriend from the Great Hall. Remus eyes him curiously, a little warily, as Sirius rifles through the bag once they're in the Entrance Hall, away from the watchful gazes of their professors.

"What've you got there, Pads?" questions Remus, leaning slightly to try to see within the dark spaces of the knapsack.

Sirius quickly cinches it closed, grinning up at his boyfriend. "That's for you to find out in a bit," he chirps before tugging Remus up the stairs to the third floor.

When they reach the hump-backed witch, Sirius digs in the bag again, dislodging the map and checking it for anyone in the area. Once he's satisfied they're alone, he taps his wand to the hump, mutters the password, and then promptly shoves Remus through the opening. He lands with an oomph of sound, and Sirius can hear muffled grumbling coming from the darkness, chuckling as he hitches his leg up and drops down beside Remus, landing far more gracefully by the looks of it as the other man brushes dirt from his robes, glaring at Sirius through the dim light cast from the still open hump.

"Did you have to throw me in?" demands Remus indignantly.

Sirius waves him off as he points his wand upwards to close the hump and then lights the tip with a silent lumos. "Get your knickers out of their twist, you're fine. And you're about to be better," he says offhandedly, fingers latching around Remus' wrist as he begins to pull him down the passageway. Remus struggles a little against it, but eventually settles, coming up beside Sirius as they walk.

"Am I to expect this sort of thing all day? Just being randomly pulled and tossed about with no say? All for the sake of birthday surprises?" asks Remus lightly, not quite looking at Sirius as they walk. "I feel like you tried the same thing last year. Remember how that turned out?"

Sirius balks for a second before he fixes Remus with a firm stare. "You're not going to end up in the lake with the squid again," he denies. "Not that I wouldn't be willing, but he clearly didn't like you. That much was obvious from the way he threw you back to us. I've still no idea what you could have possibly done to him while you were down there. He's never been right since."

"Short of fighting for my life and breathable air," counters Remus, his tone still mostly unaffected, "I haven't the foggiest."

Sirius grins. "Maybe he just knew you belonged to me and decided to give you back," he comments slyly.

Remus turns to look at him then, his brown eyes flashing with something in the wand light that sends a heat-laced thrill racing down Sirius' spine. He shudders under its weight a little, and Remus smirks, like he knows.

"So what's this about, then?" he asks of Sirius as they approach the end of the tunnel.

"This," says Sirius with another wide grin as he rummages through the knapsack again and withdraws the cloak, "is about satisfying you with as much chocolate as this bag can rightfully hold. Along with other things."

He throws the cloak over their heads then as Remus smiles at him, his eyes glinting in the light before Sirius extinguishes his wand and stows it in his pocket. Then he pushes the door open and they clamber into the cellar under Honeydukes. Something they can't see through the darkness sloshes around their shoes, though Sirius' thick boots keep out whatever it is. The sounds increase as they walk toward the stairs.

"Why are my trainers wet?" hisses Remus quietly, his breath ghosting over the back of Sirius' neck delightfully. They're pressed as close as they can be to still be able to move, trying to make sure they remain properly hidden under the cloak that's no longer really large enough to cover two nearly fully grown men. Not that Sirius minds much.

"Dunno," he remarks. "Can't see, can I? Let's just get upstairs."

At the crest of the steps, they slowly and cautiously ease their way through the cracked door, but they stop when they see the people milling about with their wands, cleaning and organizing an unsightly mess. There's water all over, rippling across the floor and staining the walls with dark, still wet streaks. Sirius glances across the shop to the door, spying the sign in the window. It seems that Honeydukes is closed for the time being, due to, of all things, a flood. Sirius droops as he gazes around.

Whatever had happened had clearly ruined all their wares, putting a stop to Sirius' plan of purchasing as much chocolate as Remus could want, at least for the next month. The firmly closed and locked door is also effectively prohibiting them from the rest of Sirius' carefully laid plans for their time in Hogsmeade, visions of Remus surrounded by second-hand books in the shop around the corner and nice little cups of tea or butterbeers in the Three Broomsticks vanishing before his eyes.

He sighs softly and urges Remus backwards to the stairs. They trod through what is now clearly water to the tunnel, Sirius removing the cloak once they're out of the cellar and lighting his wand again, his eyes drifting over Remus as he considers their options.

"Could always backtrack," suggests Sirius despondently. "Head through the castle and take the willow tunnel to the Shrieking Shack. Access the village that way." Remus visibly pales in the dim light of Sirius' wand, and Sirius' mouth pulls down in a frown. "Yeah, thought not. Bloody hell. That was half our day, and now it's gone, out the window like a fucking escaped snitch."

Remus studies him for a time before slotting his hand around the back of Sirius' neck, thumb sweeping under the collar of his robes comfortingly. "You tried," he says, far too sweetly for Sirius' liking after yet another failure in his epic plans. "It's not your fault our exit was blocked by a flood, though I do have to comment on the irony here." He ducks his head, meeting Sirius' eyes. "It's fine, Sirius. We can just go back to the common room until whatever you have planned next comes about. Sound good?"

Sirius shrugs one shoulder, still feeling a little dismayed on Remus' behalf. He'd only wanted him to have a good day. "Whatever you want, Moony," he agrees, and Remus smiles, dropping his hand from Sirius' neck and wrapping his arm around his waist instead as they walk back down the tunnel.

They find Marlene and Dorcas inside the common room when they arrive, the girls coaxing them into a game of Exploding Snap. Remus has a wonderful time if his glowing face is any indication. It cheers Sirius some, and while he also finds enjoyment in the rounds they play between banter and jests, he sulks.

When it's time for lunch, they depart from the tower with the girls in tow, Sirius pleased to see the meat pies he'd arranged spread over the table. He knows how much Remus loves them, and the other man's eyes settle gratefully on Sirius as he grabs two. Sirius is mildly mollified for a time, talking between his friends about their mornings, but it shifts when Remus is distracted by a fifth year Hufflepuff behind him, pulling his attention as the girl asks him about some homework she's been assigned. Sirius watches, dismay falling over him again, as the food on the table eventually disappears, Remus' mostly untouched pies with it.

People begin to leave the Hall after that, the Hufflepuff, James, Lily, and Peter with them, but Sirius rallies himself and keeps Remus there, chattering to him about the merits of pickled pigs' trotters and how delicious they can be if eaten the proper way. Remus steadily grows more green the longer Sirius prattles on.

When enough time has passed and it's well after lunch, Remus looking as though he might strangle Sirius if he doesn't promptly shut it about his questionable food choices, Sirius lifts himself from the bench and urges his boyfriend to follow him. They stroll lazily through the corridors, Sirius remarking on the portraits as though he's never seen them before, musing over random thoughts like why Hermon the Beheaded could have possibly been beheaded, and was he beheaded properly (unlike Nearly Headless Nick) before or after he'd received the nickname. Remus watches him suspiciously, remaining oddly silent.

It's only when they reach the clocktower courtyard does Sirius cease in his rant about heads and necks and whether they're really necessary or not. Remus looks as though he's about ready to burst, either with anger or amusement, Sirius doesn't know. He has rubbed his temples and the bridge of his nose no less than fourteen times as they walked. Sirius had counted.

As they step from the courtyard and onto the grounds surrounding the castle, Sirius spies in the distance what they'd come for. Remus' eyes narrow curiously as he sees it, too, his head tilting slightly to the side as they slowly approach.

"I'm…guessing it's not supposed to do that?" he says eventually as the close the distance.

Sirius, having been focused on Remus and his reaction instead of the sight ahead of them, looks forward and instantly freezes. His mouth drops open as he gapes at the absolute travesty that has befallen his idea and steadily crafted plan.

Sirius had wanted a fountain, a gigantic chocolate fountain large enough for a Moony-sized person to swim in should he be so inclined. And Sirius is staring at a fountain, he'll admit to that. It's what's in and surrounding the fountain that's causing his mouth to work silently and his stomach to twist in disappointment.

Melted chocolate, it seems, for all its glorious merits, doesn't react well when introduced to magic that's meant to expand it. That's Sirius' fault, he supposes. He'd flipped through the book rather quickly and thrown most of the idea and spellwork together on his own. And he's not sure if it's just the spells, the sun shining overhead, his useless friends, or some combination of all three, but Sirius is willing to bet it's the latter.

James and Peter stand a safe distance away from the raging fountain, half covered in great globs of dark brown that look disgusting on their clothes and skin and splattered through their hair. They look to Sirius as they notice him and Remus, both of them shrugging their shoulders, resembling lost puppies turned out to the bitter cold. Lily stands in front of the fountain, still at a safe enough distance but closer than the other two as she battles against what Sirius can only compare to giant chocolate creatures, sort of like Fiendfyre but safer. Possibly. He's not really sure as one shoots a glob of chocolate in Lily's direction that she dodges easily, laughing as she does so. Sirius can only shake his head.

Remus glances at him, seemingly just as shocked as Sirius, but he suddenly races forward to help the red head, pulling his wand. The two work together, slowly taming the beasts – a term Sirius uses lightly as one seems to be in the form of horrendous monstrosity of a rabbit, complete with floppy ears and fluffy tail – until they're melting back into the fountain, completely harmless.

James and Peter slowly step forward when all appears safe, looking beaten down and trodden on. Sirius trails behind him, frown settling deeply over his face. Remus and Lily are panting a little as they turn to face them, Remus seeming to stop moving as he takes in the appearance of his friends in front of him. And then he's laughing, bending double as his mirth overtakes him. Sirius gapes again, thoroughly baffled.

"Who came up with this?" When no one answers, Remus finally straightens, his overly amused eyes settling on Sirius knowingly. "There were mice in there, did you see? They had great gnashing teeth and twitching tails spiked with barbs." His laughter is gone, but his mouth wobbles as he continues to look at Sirius. "I don't know where you found this, but you clearly didn't read into it enough, love. You can't expand food. Dangerous things happen."

"Chocolate isn't food," mumbles Sirius, utterly disheartened. "It's a sweet."

Remus eyes him, amusement still clear on his features. He turns suddenly, dipping his hand into the pool of chocolate and bringing it to his mouth even as Sirius, Peter, and James all step forward, protesting violently. Remus licks his fingers clean as they watch him with wide eyes, then he glances back at Sirius, smiling blindingly.

"I can eat it, Padfoot," he remarks. "It's food, baby. But do you know what else it's good for?" At Sirius' questioning gaze, Remus tucks his hand back into the fountain, scooping out some of the dark substance. "This."

Sirius isn't expecting the splatter of chocolate in his face and over his chest, jolting backwards as it hits and ricochets off, also coating Peter and James more. He looks up, blinking at Remus in shock at the other man laughs again, gripping at his middle like he's trying to hold himself together.

"Oh, that's how you want it, is it?" says Sirius challengingly as he steps forward. Remus looks at him, tears of mirth streaming from his eyes as he glances over his sweet-splattered form. Sirius smiles at him amiably. "Fine," he chirps, and then proceeds to push Remus backwards into the fountain.

He thinks he's won, he really does, until, at the last second, Remus reaches out a hand and grips at the chest of Sirius' robes, pulling him in with him. Sirius lets out a shocked yelp that's almost immediately stifled when his face collides with the chocolate. As he lifts himself back up, raking gobs of the substance away from his eyes, he hears Remus laughing again and clears enough of his vision to see the man struggling to remove himself before Sirius can get his wits about him. Sirius grins wolfishly at the sight, reaching out quickly and clutching his hand around Remus' ankle, pulling him back in sharply, his boyfriend releasing a startled sound as he falls into the chocolate again.

And then they're both laughing, rolling about in the stickiness, slathering one another's faces in the goop. The other three quickly follow them, clambering over the edge and joining the fray. They all tussle about, shoving chocolate in places it should probably never be, voices laughing and carrying over the grounds, eventually drawing a small crowd of onlookers. Sirius winds up with slowly hardening chocolate up his nose, coating one armpit, and a large lump shoved down his trousers, but all in all, he considers it good fun and a must try for everyone.

They eventually emerge, tired but happy, James and Sirius spelling away the fountain and surrounding mess before the group makes their sodden, increasingly uncomfortable way through the castle. McGonagall spies them as they pass through a third-floor corridor, taking in their appearance carefully, like she's trying to decide if the coming spun tales and overly charming grins are worth her energy. Obviously deciding against it, she doesn't bother with them, turning her back and walking in the opposite direction.

Lily disappears up the stairs to the girls' dormitory while the others mount the stairs to their own dorm. Remus and Sirius are polite enough to linger by the sink basins until James and Peter are finished showering before stepping into their own stall together, using the time to remove some of the worst clusters of chocolate hiding beneath their clothing. Once under the stream of water, with their friends no longer within the room, they make good work of cleaning one another of the mess, using lips and tongues, the water drowning out most of their gasps and soft cries and gentle but needing pleas.

As they finally remove themselves and slowly towel away any lingering moisture on their bodies, Sirius silently consults his list again.

Sex: Completed, but barely. Massive interruption in the form of one James 'Prongs' Potter. Slight failure.

Breakfast: Ruined. Completely. No coming back from the owls' destruction.

Honeydukes: Flooded. No good. Ruined.

Hogsmeade Excursion: See Honeydukes.

Lunch: Complete failure. Blame the Hufflepuffs and their allowance for questions.

Chocolate Fountain: Utter travesty, complete with rabid bunnies and mice. Never try again.*

More Sex: Surprisingly successful. Also, delicious.

*Sirius is willing to concede that this turned out better than initially expected, though he'll only admit under extreme duress, or possibly a month following the event, whichever should come first.

It's not looking good, Sirius is being forced to admit. Most of his carefully plotted ideas are now viciously scratched out for their complete failures in all things associated with providing Remus Lupin with the Best Birthday Ever. But Sirius keeps his head held high. There's still dinner, after all, which promises to be good, along with one other thing he's got planned for after, and Remus doesn't seem at all unhappy with how the day's gone. Sirius takes it as a good sign for the remainder of their evening.

Dinner is, of course, not what Sirius had wanted. Remus still clearly enjoys it, eating two full plates worth, but Sirius mopes a bit. He'd requested that the elves make Toad in the Hole, another one of Remus' favorites that Sirius knows his mum makes a lot while he's home. But, being a more traditionally Muggle dish, Sirius hadn't been certain how to explain to the elves what was involved in making it, settling for the best version he could manage, though incredibly vague. The elves, clearly not understanding, had made bangers and mash instead.

When they finish their meal and pudding – this part is at least perfectly right, a simple chocolate cake dripping with delectable frosting – Sirius trails from the Great Hall with Remus at his side. His boyfriend eyes him as they walk, studying Sirius' sullen face in the flickering flames lining the walls of the corridors.

"What's next? Or are we done for the day?" asks Remus eventually, his tone light and gentle.

Sirius heaves a sigh, his eyes shifting to the ceiling as he almost forgoes what he's planned next and simply tells Remus they're going back to the dorm for the night. "No, there's one more thing," he answers wearily.

Remus tilts his head a little. "All right. Where to?"

"Astronomy Tower," is the mumbled reply he receives.

Remus smiles. "Let's go, then," he says, gripping Sirius' hand in his and tugging him along a little faster. "We don't want to leave this brilliant plan of yours waiting, do we?"

Sirius suppresses his grumbled words of response and reluctantly speeds up his steps as he follows Remus through the corridors and then up the steep, spiraling staircase to the top of the tower. Once there, Sirius steps up to the rampart and gently urges Remus closer, knowing he doesn't much care for such spectacular heights. As they wait, they stare up at the stars, Remus seeming content and relaxing the longer they stand there, eventually pressing closer into Sirius' side.

It's only when they hear a noise in the distance, coming from near the lake, that they finally shift their gazes back down. The sound squeals faintly as something flies into the air, sparking a little, followed by several others. Then fireworks are bursting over the grounds, shining and blazing, casting colors of every variety across the shadows settling in deeply.

Herpy biptday, Ramhus! spells out across the sky and Sirius finds himself gaping again, able to do nothing more than stare and silently curse James Potter and all his future descendants.

"You trusted Prongs to remember the order they were meant to go in, didn't you?" asks Remus quietly from beside him. "And not Pete. For some unfathomable reason."

Sirius doesn't answer, watching the last of his failure of a plan go up in literal smoke and flames. And then Remus is laughing again, great peals of one of the most wonderful sounds Sirius has every heard surging from between his parted lips, though Sirius is having a difficult time appreciating it for what it is currently. Remus bends forward over the rampart, like his body is giving out on him under his mirth until Sirius fears he'll have to reach out and stop him from toppling clean over the side.

When his amusement fades enough for him to straighten, Remus looks at Sirius. As he takes in the disappointment on Sirius' face, his laughter disappears, though he's still smiling, like he can't quite manage to control it.

"You are chaos, Sirius Black," he murmurs. "Everything you do, everything you touch, chaos follows. I accepted that years ago, but I think it's time you do, too."

Sirius heaves a heavy sigh, crestfallen that he'd ruined Remus' last birthday spent at Hogwarts. "Yeah, I know," he says dismally. "I just wanted you to have a special birthday, but well…you were there. You've seen how things have gone all day. Nothing turned out like it was supposed to."

Remus hums, a small noise coming from the back of his throat. "No, you're right. It didn't," he replies, and Sirius visibly droops under the acknowledgement, his eyes dropping to the ground well below them. "I think it was better. Far better."

Sirius gaze darts back up at the words, staring at Remus in surprise, finding his boyfriend smiling more brightly, its blinding light outweighing the stars shining above them. He steps up to Sirius, his hand cupping around the side of Sirius' face, fingers splaying out around his ear and drifting down his neck.

"Do you know what makes my birthdays and every other day special and perfect, Sirius?" he asks, his eyes not leaving Sirius' still startled gaze. "It isn't the stolen trips to Hogsmeade or the chocolate and food you manage to wrangle. It's not elaborate gestures like a fountain filled with chocolate or misspelled wet-start fireworks. It's not even the sex, though let's be fair, that part's always fantastic." His thumb grazes delicately over Sirius' cheek as Sirius stares at him, locked in and fixated. "It's you. Only you. So long as you're there with me, everything we do and every day we have is perfect, always. You are all it takes for me to be happy, Sirius. I don't need any of the rest of it, just you. And while I'll always take the rest with a smile on my face because I know you can't help yourself, just try to remember that. Because I love you. And that's all that matters to me."

Sirius melts under the words, all his dismay and disappointment and guilt from the day leeching from his body. He smiles at his boyfriend as Remus pulls him into a slow, drawing kiss, Sirius relaxing completely against his chest, sinking into him.

"Happy birthday, Remus," he says quietly when they part enough to allow speech. Remus murmurs a soft thank you against the corner of his mouth, his arms wrapping around Sirius' back, holding him close.

"It was a good day, Pads," says Remus eventually. "The best. Though I could have done without all the talk of pig trotters."

"Yeah, well, that was all for the purpose of distraction," admits Sirius with a grin into Remus' shoulder. "But next year I'll do better. Make better plans. Actually read the bloody books instead of just skimming them. And I think maybe I could get that expanding chocolate thing to work with a little work and safeguarding. It'll take some doing and possibly some sort of protective kit, but I think – "

"Sirius," Remus finally interrupts him, ceasing his prattling.

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

#wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #james potter #peter pettigrew #lily evans #humor #birthday silliness #sirius black being his chaotic self #ask game #answer #not a drabble #by any stretch of the imagination #let's all just get that out of our heads right quick #my writing

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bellshazes · 2 years

Note

peter you are so fucking correct about ethdubs CONSTANTLY!!!! it's because of your deep understanding and dedication to showing off how fucking deranged and unsexy they are at times. you are so fucking elevated for this i drink up every time you write paragraphs over bdubs lubricated throat or etho's obligation to fuck with bdubs at ANY opportunity sorry about the enuunderlines i tyleed everything out in a google search bc tumblr doesnt let me baskspace in asks for some fucking reason.

anon I love you but and I know it's my post and my fault but I had temporarily forgotten bdubs throat is always lubricated over etho and I laughed out loud so hard I am actually coughing and can't breathe. thank you. they ARE deranged they ARE unsexy I DO want what they have so bad oh my god someone stop bdubs specifically etho can keep doing whatever but he's going to kill me . In real life

#live bdubs reaction. you know #<- you probably dont bc i have nevr made the post in my brain into online #peter answers #testimonials

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shyficwriter · 3 years

Text

Temporary Home: Chapter 7

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Guardians (With Yondu and Kraglin!)

Summary: Peter is determined to chip your shell away, but unfortunately, his attempts only seem to annoy you. He might need to step up his game, and by that he means recruiting Mantis, which backfires on him. This could be the start of a war, if Yondu knows what he's talking about.

Previous Chapter here | Next Chapter Here Or click here to: Start From Beginning

Author’s Note: I got a suggestion from @maribatshipper to add a scene where some actual raccoons get in the trash and Rocket finally sees a raccoon. I love the idea but I unfortunately didn't get a chance to add it to this chapter as it was finished before I saw the suggestion (I'll probably add it later, don't worry! lol) Anyways, it gave me an idea. What's some stuff you guys would like to see happen in this story? I do already know the direction of the story, but this could also be fun!

Word Count: 3,729

You were going to kill Peter. Probably Kraglin too.

It started maybe a couple hours after "the smelly incident," as you had mentally dubbed it, had resolved.

Peter got bored, found some old DVDs in the cabinet below the TV, and when he recognized a movie from when he was a kid, SpaceBalls, he managed to convince you to watch it with them.

He might have also quietly pulled the "unless you're too shy..." card for the thousandth time, and you might have told him it was getting old and he was working his way towards a black eye, but you did agree to watch the film with them. Peter had somehow convinced everyone else to watch the movie, too. Might have had something to do with the fact that no one exactly had anything better to do.

Kraglin sat at on one end of the sofa, Gamora on the other, and Peter & you were sandwiched in the middle, him next to Gamora and you next to Kraglin. Mantis, Rocket and Groot sat on the floor, while Drax and Yondu took the armchairs at either side of the sofa.

Only you and Peter got the Star Wars references, of course, but there were plenty of parts the others found funny even without it. Rocket mostly laughed about how Terrans didn't understand space at all if you thought that's how things worked, and compared Peter to the main character, Lone Star. He meant it in a derogatory way, of course.

At about the scene where Dark Helmet breaks the 4th wall with the line, "What the hell am I looking at? When does this happen in the movie?" Peter had started to notice that you didn't laugh openly like everyone else. You always covered your mouth like you were trying to stifle it, despite no one else bothering to be quiet, least of all Drax, who laughed loudly at parts that weren't even that funny.

That simply wouldn't do. You should be laughing freely with the others, like you did when Kraglin and Rocket got tangled up in the hose, which was probably the only time he had seen a genuine full laugh from you, now that he thought of it. To him, this was evidence that he was right, you needed to break that shell of yours and learn how to loosen up.

Annnd... if that required a little mischief on his part... well then so be it.

He waited a bit, just to see if you'd eventually let yourself relax, but when you just kept biting your lip not to laugh and covering your mouth when you started to, he decided he'd 'help' you along.

The scene came on where Dark Helmet's men were combing the dessert with a literal giant comb, and seeing you trying to stifle another laugh, Peter decided to poke you in the side.

You tried to stifle your squeak and you glared at him, but he just shrugged innocently. Poke you? Never... Doesn't sound like him...

He spaced a couple more pokes within the next few minutes of the film, making you jump and hiss at him to stop. He grinned at you and whispered he thought you could use some help laughing, since it seemed you had forgotten how. The little shit.

You irritably whisper back, "That's not gonna work, I'm not-"

Peter rolled his eyes playfully and replied, "Yeah. Sure. Not ticklish. You've said. Too bad I don't believe you." He made to poke you again and you pinched him hard on the arm, which you admit was childish, but he deserved it for annoying you. He gave you a pouty look in response and then frowned when Gamora scolded him and told him to quit behaving like a child.

You sat back and thought he'd finally quit.

And he might have, seeing that it wasn't quite working as he hoped, but Kraglin, who of course noticed your flinching and the childish bickering between you and Peter, caught Peter's eye and they shared a look. He wanted in on the fun. Movie wasn't all that interesting to him anyways.

Five minutes later you received a poke from each of them simultaneously, making your arms clamp to your sides. You turn your head from side to side to glare at both of them. Quietly threatening to break their fingers if they didn't straighten up and just watch the movie.

Based on their expressions it was clear they didn't take you seriously, but they seemed to back off... for about another ten minutes. That's when they decided to poke you again and you jerked up off the sofa with a "That's it." and moved to sit down on the floor next to Mantis where you knew you were out of their reach.

Gamora smacked Peter in the arm for annoying you off the sofa, but no one paid much mind or reacted with more than a glance as they were paying attention to the movie. Well, except for Yondu, who had fallen asleep and was now snoring softly in his chair.

Peter was slightly disappointed that you hadn't been able to let your guard down, but he wasn't deterred. In fact, he was more determined to not just chip at your shell, but shatter it. There was someone who liked to have fun in there, and he was determined to find them and pull them out.

Thankfully, you were able to finish the rest of the movie unbothered. Rocket complained about the sappy ending where Lone Star and the Princess marry, but then Mantis said she thought it was sweet and he waved her off, grumbling about how she thought everything was sweet, or cute, or whatever...

After the movie you decided to go out to the shed and apply the varnish to the bed frame, and when you came back inside to wash some of the varnish off your hands you were startled when Kraglin snuck up behind you to poke you in the ribs. He dodged just in time to avoid being smacked and ran out of the kitchen, his giggles joined by Peter's in the hall.

You sighed, now thinking you should have taken more time in the shed with the varnish. Maybe cooking something would keep you busy enough, but what would you cook? Your first thought was that lasagna would likely feed everyone, but then you remembered the cheese and you were not about to have a repeat of that morning. You were sure the hairs inside your nose were singed-off forever.

You walk out the kitchen door to catch the men still giggling in the hall and they jump from the unexpected sight of you, probably thinking you had come out to properly smack them for deliberately annoying you. You look at them, unamused, and say, "Supper will be in about an hour if you want it. If there's anything else any of you can't eat you should probably tell me now."

Peter and Kraglin exchanged looks before Peter turned back to you and said, "If there is, we don't know it yet."

Kraglin nodded and added, "Not a lot of experience with Terran food, ma'am."

You cringe slightly at being called ma'am, but give a short nod. "Well, here's hoping I don't poison anyone again," you say, turning to head back to the kitchen. You are stopped when another poke to your waist makes you jump and you turn back with a hand raised to smack him.

Peter recoils with a laugh and says, "Just wondering if you'd like any help in the kitchen?"

You narrow your eyes. "Nope. Think you two better stay out here. Clearly can't trust you not to annoy me." You can hear their chuckles as you walk back into the kitchen.

Mercifully, they left you alone all through the cooking and eating of dinner, (you had decided to make a stew). Well, they left you alone physically, that is. Throughout dinner they kept attempting jokes, and it was obvious they were aiming them at you in an attempt to get you to laugh. Most of them fell flat, however, because most of the jokes Kragin told hinged on you knowing about creatures or other stuff not from Earth that you'd have not any way of knowing the context for to make the joke make sense. The others seemed to get the jokes and find them funny though, so at least they seemed to be enjoying themselves. Better than awkward silence any day.

Peter was able to tell a few jokes with Earth references that you could understand, but they were such old jokes that anyone who didn't live in a cave would have already heard them before they finished primary school, so you didn't really laugh at his either. You did, however, smile politely, assuming that they were only trying to be friendly.

After dinner you started to get ready to wash the dishes, and Gamora offered to help.

"No thank you, I've got them tonight." you say, taking the couple of bowls she had gathered and put them in the sink.

"You sure? You cooked for us, it doesn't seem right to let you clean up by yourself too."

"Don't worry, I'm not going to make a habit of it, just... some nights I like to have something to keep me busy, ya know?" You turn on the tap and start washing the dishes. You hated to admit it, but that boiler Fury replaced your immersion with had proven to be very helpful with eight extra people in the house. If you didn't know better you'd say it was magic. Somehow there was just always hot water. You willed yourself not to get too used to it, however. No one had said, but surely SHIELD was just temporarily loaning it until the Guardians finally were able to go back home. You couldn't imagine them just giving you an upgrade like that to keep forever.

"Ok," Gamora relented, not wanting to push it. She could tell you probably still needed a bit more time before you could fully relax. "Thanks for supper."

"Don't mention it," you say, not looking up as you sudsed a bowl.

Gamora nodded and walked out of the kitchen, passing Peter, Kraglin and Mantis on her way into the sitting room. They looked like they were conspiring something, but as a general rule, she didn't get involved in Peter's shenanigans. That meant that unless it was going to directly annoy her, or possibly injure someone else, she pretended not to notice.

She had been right, they were conspiring. Well, Peter and Kraglin had been, Mantis was just along for the ride. With nothing better to do, the two men decided they'd put their energy towards continuing to mess with you, however, it was clear that they needed to get smarter about their approach if they didn't want to risk a black eye.

So they deployed Mantis.

It didn't take much to convince Mantis to do it either. It literally just took Peter asking Mantis if she wanted to play a game and she agreed.

In truth Peter was testing a theory. He watched from the kitchen door with Kraglin as they sent Mantis in to do the poking while you washed the dishes.

She poked, you jumped and spun to face her, clearly thinking it was one of the guys, and then the irritation softened from your face as you realized it was her and all she got was a mild scolding. Mantis looked back and Kraglin encouraged her to do it again with an enthusiastic nod.

This time she fluttered her fingers at your waist from both sides like she had the other day, making you jump again, and, with what sounded suspiciously to the guys to be a poorly suppressed giggle in your voice, you scolded her again and shooed her away.

Theory confirmed. You couldn't bring yourself to try and smack her away like you had with them. Good. He could work with that. Use your soft spot for her against you.

This time they motioned Mantis to come back.

She meets them at the doorway and on her way out whispers, "Did I do a good job?"

Peter smiles, "Yes. You did great. Hey, I want to show you a trick..."

***

A bit later you walked into the sitting room and Mantis calls you over to the table, saying she wants to show you a trick.

She's sitting with Peter, Kraglin, and Gamora, and you walk over hesitantly, wondering if Gamora's presence meant you could assume you'd be safe from mischief or not, seeing as she normally swatted at or scolded Peter for being annoying.

Once you reached the table Mantis stood and encouraged you to take a seat. You pull out a chair at the end of the table and sit, only to be instructed by Mantis to turn and face her.

You eye her suspiciously and then turn to Gamora. "Am I going to regret this?" you ask, your eyes moving to Peter and Kraglin who sat across from her, shrugging and shaking their heads. You were sure you could only trust them about as far as you could throw them, but Gamora appeared to genuinely have no idea what Mantis wanted to show you, so you decided to just play along. How bad could it be?

Mantis instructed you to hold out your hand for her, and you did as asked. She then held your hand palm up and placed her thumb at the tip of your middle finger, and rested the tip of her own middle finger where the palm of your hand met your wrist, as if she were measuring the distance with her own hand.

She then released your hand and moved the hand she used to measure the length of your hand with to your knee, placing her thumb on your kneecap and lowering the tip of her middle finger to rest on your thigh above the knee.

"What are you doing?" you ask, suspicion and confusion in your voice.

Mantis looked up to meet your gaze. She smiled happily and said, "I'm distracting you for this!"

You raise an eyebrow but before you could wonder much about it she squeezed your leg where her middle finger had been resting, sending a tickly jolt through your body and making you jerk in your seat and your breath catch in your throat.

You grasp for her wrist to push her away, but then she just attacked your other leg with her other hand. "Mantis! No!" you squeak, squirming in your seat and flailing for her hands. Every time you'd grab for one hand, she'd free her other hand and send ticklish pokes and squeezes wherever she could reach.

She was was a little stronger and quicker than she looked, so it made the task of restraining her hands difficult for you. You did your best to hold back any laughter as you flinched and jerked from your torment. You could hear Peter laughing and telling her 'good job,' and Kraglin encouraging her to continue, which she did, happily giggling the whole time.

"Peter!" you half scold/half beckon.

"Yes?" he asked teasingly, folding his hands under his chin with a cheeky grin. Gamora rolled her eyes and tried to shake her head disapprovingly at him, but she couldn't help grinning. Mantis just looked so playful and it was honestly adorable.

"Will you-AEK" you squeak as she darted a hand and squeezed at your waist before you could stop her, "Will you make her stop!"

"Thought you weren't ticklish?" Kraglin said with a teasingly smug grin. "That shouldn't bother you at all then. I don't see a problem."

Gamora sighed with a smile at the two men. So that's what this was about. They must have put Mantis up to this.

"Dammit!" you jerk again as Mantis landed another squeeze above your knee. "I'm- I'm not- I'm-" you were having managing words, because each time you attempted, you were cut off by another poke or squeeze from Mantis, and you were afraid you would start laughing if you allowed yourself to talk through it. You were already having a hell of a time trying not to smile, and failing.

"I swear, if you actually say you're not ticklish right now, Pete and I will pin you down and prove that you are." Kraglin threatened with an evil grin.

"Kraglin!" Gamora scolded with furrowed brow, but her warning wasn't taken too seriously on account of the humor laced in her voice.

"What? She's the one being so stubborn she can't admit it!" Kraglin laughed. As far as he was concerned, you deserved it for fibbing. Plus, wouldn't kill you to loosen up a bit- you could be... well, scary... sometimes. Although it was kinda hard to think of you as scary at the moment while you were spasming in a chair as you kept trying to get a hold on Mantis's quick hands and a grin more than threatened to crack your face.

You could feel your cheeks getting warm, hating showing signs of weakness, but knowing you didn't have much choice at the moment. "Ok! Fine!" you cry out, still grappling at Mantis's hands and biting back any giggles that threatened to spill out. You knew when you were beat. It was pretty damn obvious that you couldn't deny being ticklish anymore, and you sure as hell weren't about to give them a reason to actually properly tickle the snot out of you. You wouldn't stand a chance.

"Fine... what?" Peter chuckled in a sing-song voice and leaned on the table.

You could kill him. "Fine! I'm ticklish, okay!? I admit it! Are you happy now!?" Just then Mantis managed to free both hands and briefly tweak your ribs before you got a grip on her wrists again, finally getting a short laugh to escape your throat as you spasmed in your chair. "Will you call her off now, please!?" Gods, this was embarrassing. You didn't know how, but they were so going to pay for this.

Peter and Kraglin high-five and Peter says, "Alright, Mantis, good job."

Mantis stood and clasped her hands, giggling and saying how that was so much fun, and you half-heartedly glare up at her before standing so you could get out of there, but not before turning to aim a glare at Peter and Kraglin. The jackasses.

When you turn back you notice Yondu leaning on the back of the sofa looking amused and you cringe, asking, "How long have you been standing there?"

Yondu folded his arms and pretended to think. "Hmm... Long enough to hear the boys threaten to tickle ya silly and then see ya fold like a cheap tent." Humor twinkled in his eyes and you wanted to melt into the floor.

You inhale and look to the ceiling, your cheeks burning. Your expression then turned mischievous. Vengeance. Now.

"Mantis?" you say, turning back to face her.

"Yes?" she answers, smiling wide and sweetly.

You put on your best, most innocent face. "Ya know, maybe you should do that to Peter. Or Kraglin. Why should they miss out on the fun?" Your eyes flick to the pair menacingly to see Peter looking at you like you just shot him.

Mantis giggles and goes to take your suggestion, bouncing to their side of the table. Peter bolted from his chair, saying, "Mantis- wait a minute!" and tried to run around the table, getting slowed down when Kraglin tripped him, mostly likely to save himself as he also stood to get out of Mantis's way, grabbing her by the shoulders and spinning her in Peter's direction when it looked like she was going after him. Unfortunately for Peter, he didn't get much further after Kraglin tripped him as Gamora effortlessly caught him by the arm and then laughed as she held him in place and he complained.

You turned back to Yondu with a satisfied smile and started to walk past him to leave when he leaned over to speak in a low tone as you got near. "Hope ya know that was a mistake, girl," he chuckled.

"What?" you say, surprised. Peter could be heard laughing and pleading with Mantis and Gamora behind you.

He grinned wider. "If there's anythin' I know about that boy, ya just declared war. An' if that ain't bad enough, now yer stuck in a house with him, and my first mate who ain't got nothin better to do."

"Ah." Your voice cracks, your eyes widening, nervousness creeping into your belly. "Well surely they wouldn't hold a grudge- I mean, they started it-"

He straightened back up and chuckled, shaking his head knowingly. "Jus' figured I should give ya a heads up. Do with it what ya will. Boy's partial to pranks when it comes to revenge. Might wanna be on the lookout for buckets of water above your doorways tomorrow. Or grease in your boots. That used to be Quill's go-to." Mirth glistened in his eyes and made you unsure if this warning was out of the goodness of his heart or if he enjoyed seeing the 'oh shit' look on your face.

You swallowed. Fuck. Just what you needed. A war. You decided it might be a good idea to get out before Peter could escape, or before Kraglin could decide to avenge his friend. "Well I'm going to go to bed now." Your voice was a little higher than you'd like and you could hear Yondu chuckling as you scarpered.

He knew it was more likely you were going to hide than going to sleep. It was barely dark out.

Yondu shook his head and walked to take a seat on the couch, still chuckling at the flicker of fear in your eyes when he told you that you had started a war. He switched on the TV and idly wondered who'd give up first. He'd gotten the impression that you wouldn't be one to back down, despite the nervousness present on your face.

You may have the advantage of being on home turf, but Quill could be relentless. More than likely you were fucked, but it'd be interesting to see how it all played out.

You might surprise him.

#gotg #guardians of the galaxy #x reader #peter quill #kraglin obfonteri #starlord #mantis #gamora #yondu #rocket raccoon #pranks #hijinks

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bethansfandoms · 3 years

Note

/post/647279129847283712/okay-so-anonymous-on-instagram-asked-me-how-do : your take on why sirius sent snape to the willow hasn't left me since you published it, so good! i know the prank has been written about time and time again, but i'd just love to see your take on the aftermath of the prank - how mad remus is, how and when and why he finds it in him to forgive sirius... your writing is incredible and i would be grateful forever if you wrote this! 🐺⭐🙏

You don't have to have read part one of this for the post to make sense <3

Sirius panicked the moment he landed on the floor of the Potter's living room.

He hadn't been thinking, he had been so scared, so in pain, that in the moment he had grabbed the floo powder and requested to be taken to James', he had temporarily forgotten that James didn't want to see him. He had been so desperate to escape from his house that he hadn't taken the time to just think.

Sirius hadn't spent Christmas at home in a long time. Usually, the marauders would stay at Hogwarts or he would go to James'. For the Christmas of his fifth year, however, he had announced that he was going home. The brief conversation in which he had informed them of this had been the most he'd spoken to them in months.

Sirius knew he wasn't welcome to spend Christmas with the marauders, not after what he'd done, not after he'd told Snape how to get past the whomping willow.

To Sirius, it didn't matter the circumstances, it didn't matter that Snape knew legilimency, that he'd been provoked, none of it mattered because the first thing Remus had told him was that he didn't want to hear excuses, and so Sirius had decided not to go against his wishes, not then and not ever again.

He'd kept his distance, it had been killing him, but he'd stayed away. The only time the four of them were together was late at night when Sirius, his head hung, would enter the dormitory, quickly walk over to his bed, and draw the curtains.

James had shouted at him more than Remus had and Sirius stood there and took it, he'd never seen James so angry, not at anybody, and so, even in the delirious state he was in, he knew he'd messed up coming to his house.

"Sirius?" Sirius took a moment before his eyes were able to focus on the doorway. James was stood in his pyjamas, only for a brief moment, before he was running to Sirius' side. "Mum! Dad! Fuck, Sirius, what happened?"

"Parents. I’m sorry," Sirius croaked.

He only caught a brief glimpse of James' parents entering the room before consciousness escaped him.

He awoke still on the floor, James and Euphemia knelt at his side. "Fleamont has locked the floo network," Euphemia said softly, "he's writing to Dumbledore now, you're safe."

James squeezed his arm, "You're staying with us. You're not going back to your parents, Padfoot." Sirius almost cried at the nickname, he'd missed it so much.

He was, however, confused. Had James forgotten to be angry at him? He didn't get much time to dwell on it, he felt his eyes closing and blackness claimed him again.

This time, he awoke in a bed, the one in the room he usually stayed him. James was there still, fiddling with his glasses. "Feel like passing out again?" he asked, smiling weakly.

Sirius tried to smile in return, "No, I think I'm alright for now.”

James nodded, "Look, Sirius, mum said... she said it looked like someone had performed the—"

"I don't want to talk about it," he whispered. James nodded in response and dropped the subject. "I'm sorry I came here," Sirius said, voice breaking, "I didn't know where else to go."

"Why are you sorry?"

"Because... because of what happened in September, because I told Snape about the whomping willow. You're angry at me."

James ran his hands through his hair and sighed, "I know I said I wouldn't forgive you until Remus did, and I meant it. But I— Sirius, I told you going home was a good idea. If I'd just let you come here, been the bigger fucking person..."

"I would have gone home anyway, no matter what you said."

"Yeah," James scoffed, "you're a stubborn git like that. Look, I was about to write to Peter and Remus so they—"

"No!" Sirius had tried to sit up too suddenly and his back gave a painful twinge, "no, you can't tell Remus. He'll feel bad and forgive me and I can't have him do that until he's ready. You can't write to him."

"Alright," James said, "try and get some sleep then, okay mate?"

Sirius nodded, "Promise not to write to Remus?"

"Promise."

Sirius slowly blinked awake to daylight streaming through the curtains. He tentatively sat up, stretching as much as the pain in his bones allowed him to. Then, he almost jumped half to death.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you." Remus was smiling at him from his chair in the corner, and Sirius had missed his smile so much.

"What are you doing here? It was the full moon last night!"

"Yeah, yeah, it was," Remus sounded almost surprised that Sirius had remembered, like he would ever forget. "James wrote. I got the letter early this morning, used the floo network to get straight here. I probably look like shit.”

"I told him not to write," Sirius mumbled.

"I know, he told me. Sirius, what you did, it was... but I never wanted you to think I was so irreversibly angry that I wouldn't be here for you after something like this."

Sirius nodded sadly, biting his lip in an attempt to stop any tears. "Remus, I know you hate me for what I did, but I... I hate myself for it more than you ever could."

Remus sighed, sadly, "I don't hate you, Sirius. I think maybe I want to, but I don’t, I never could.”

"Snape knows legilimency," Sirius blurted. "I know you didn't want excuses, this isn't one, I just... I tried to block him, my mother had used it on me before, I was blocking him but he kept trying to use me to confirm you were a werewolf and I got so angry and I told him. I know it doesn't justify—"

He stopped speaking as Remus got up and walked across the room, sitting in bed next to him. "Why didn't you tell me that?"

"Doesn't change anything. I still told him."

Remus kicked off his shoes and pulled back the duvet, lying down and sighing. Sirius slowly mirrored his position. "I forgive you, you know."

Sirius thought he might cry. "You don't have to, just because my parents... it doesn't mean you have to feel bad for me or whatever."

"I was always going to forgive you, Sirius. I hated to admit it to myself because I was so fucking angry at you, but I knew I was always going to forgive you. So why not now?"

Sirius shuffled closer and hugged him, then. They would hug s like this sometimes after one of them had had a nightmare. Sirius had never been big fan of physical affection, not in the same way James was, but he hugged Remus tight, only relaxing when he felt Remus hug him back.

James pushed the door open slowly, he couldn't hear Remus and Sirius talking, he’d left them alone for a good hour. Briefly, he wondered if maybe they'd killed one another and that was why there was complete silence from within the room.

Instead of any casualties, he found Sirius and Remus asleep, the duvet over them but not enough to hide the way their limbs were tangled together.

He sighed to himself. He'd found them this way before, some mornings in the dormitory, the two of them sleeping soundly in bed together for reasons he didn't quite know.

"Knew I was right to send Remus an owl," he muttered to himself, closing the door and letting them sleep.

#wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar fanfic #wolfstar fanfiction #marauders #remus lupin x sirius black #sirius black x remus lupin #wolfstar blog #James potter #wolfstar headcannon #mwpp #marauders era #oneshot

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starkeristheendgame · 4 years

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I had this idea and- Tony and Peter in the lab working together when suddenly Peter gets a call and it’s Ned just talking about LEGO stuff so Peter puts him on speaker. Thing is, Ned has no idea he is with Tony because Peter didn’t address it so he suddenly says “So how’s it going with your Iron Daddy crush?” Or something like that and Peter and Tony look at eachother absolutely SHOCKED

I spent a solid ten minutes wholly entertained by this idea and cycling through all the reactions Peter could have. I hope I did you proud on this one, Non! Thank you so much for considering me ❤️

No triggers/warnings. SFW

Working with Tony was fast becoming one of Peter's favourite things to do. It was even better than building LEGO sets or patrolling the streets, and that was saying something. He lived for the long hours spent in the lab, working alongside or merely coexisting with Tony as they worked, playlists cycling through in the background. It was calming, it felt right.

If he were to hazard a guess, he would say Tony enjoyed it too. He obviously didn’t have much evidence to compare to how Tony had been in the lab prior to his arrival, but these days Tony sang along to the music and talked to Peter about their projects and ordered too much takeout even for the two of them and sometimes, even fell asleep against the workbench after too many long hours.

It was one such night when they were working together; each on their individual projects but bouncing information and ideas between them. Peter was working on adding a small-scale explosive to his web mechanism for things like blowing up concrete or doors and Tony was working on what looked like part of the suit, but could frankly be anything at this point. Peter had once asked him how working on the Gauntlet was going only to be informed it was a vase. A mechanical vase, no less.

“Diamond laser, diamond laser…” Tony muttered, petting about the bench. Peter picked up the tool laying on his own bench.

“Here,” he called, tossing it over. Tony caught it, offered him a brief, warm smile, and dove back into his work. Time passed quietly, until he heard a soft mutter of oh, that’s not good and then-

“Duck!”

Wordlessly Peter dropped down, tucking himself under the safety of his bench as there was a hiss, a clang, and a piece of metal flew over where he’d just been standing, ricocheting off the wall before it clattered to the floor. He righted himself, peered at it curiously, then went back to his own work. Mishaps in the lab were far too common to make a fuss of.

It fell back into a lull, working in tandem and comfortable silence until Peter’s phone rang on the table besides him. He paused, nose crinkling. Aunt May wasn’t expecting him to be home tonight, so that left…

“Hey, Ned,” he greeted as he swiped the call, lifting it to his ear. There was a scuffle and a huff on the other end of the line and he waited patiently as Ned got himself set.

“Dude! Have you seen the new LEGO Avengers set? You gotta get one. It’s got everyone! Well, except you, but technically you’re not an official Avenger yet-”

“Gee, thanks for reminding me,” he drawled, rolling his eyes as he fiddled with a coil one-handed. Ned continued to speak, rattling off the pieces, the details and resolutely demanding they went the moment the store opened tomorrow to get the set. Peter hummed along in agreement, interjecting here and there to demand details.

“Oh, I thought about what we could do for our science project, too!” Ned began, and Peter huffed in irritation as he tried and failed to connect a wire with just one hand. Tony more or less comfortably forgotten in the background, he shuffled his phone down onto the desk and tapped the speaker icon, picking up his tools once Ned’s voice filled the room.

“So I was thinking, right? And I was thinking; hey! Peter has access to all this stuff now! And I know we can’t do anything too dramatic because we’re still losers, but what if we use…” Peter listened intently, tongue sticking out as he focused on screwing on the pressure plate. Ned’s idea actually wasn’t all that bad - Taking inspiration from the web shooters to make a spray-able temporary hole/crack fix.

It was nothing Peter hadn’t already made, so it ought to be easy enough. It was easy to listen along and work; both motions equally soothing. Tony said nothing in the background, engrossed in his own tinkering and content to let their conversation be background noise.

"Oh, and hey! How's the whole thing with Mr. Stark going?" Ned asked on the tail-end of a ramble about how Peter could use the web formula to start his own business and make billions. Peter opened his mouth to explain their current projects, temporarily forgetting that he hadn't actually told Ned he was at the Tower right now.

"Or should I say Iron Daddy now? Was that just a one time thing? Its so weird saying that, though. Just get his Iron Rod already so we don't have to keep-"

Peter froze, staring at the phone in movie-comical horror. Across the lab there was a deafening clang and a curse as Tony jerked upright and knocked his head on Butterfinger's mainframe, dropping the diamond laser to the table.

"-Like just go right up to him and say 'I want you to be my Iron Daddy,' like how hard can it be? You could tell him about your old fan account, I bet he'd be flattered. I bet he'd even-"

Peter made a high distressed sound, flailing on the spot. His mind screamed SHUT UP NED SHUTUP HE'SHERERIGHTHERE SHUT UP but his throat wouldn't work to get the words out. On the other bench Tony looked vaguely like the arc reactor had glitched, eyes more white than iris as he gripped at the edge of the table.

Panic rose like a tidal wave and Peter gave a strangled sound, operating on pure fear and horror as he raised his palm and pressed the trigger on the web shooters. The StarkPhone went up in a spectacular display of sparks and flying metal, Ned's voice cutting off abruptly.

Dully, Peter thought huh, it works. As the last pathetic sparks fizzled to the ground Peter turned his head, staring meekly somewhere near Tony's shoulder.

"Sorry. That was... Your phone," he excused lamely, belatedly noting he no longer had his chappy old IPhone but Stark Industries' latest, sleekest model courtesy of Tony.

“Technically it was yours,” Tony replied back rather dazedly, leaning heavily against the bench. An awkward silence fell over them for several seconds, before Tony’s expression twisted.

“Iron Daddy?”

Peter made a sound between a groan and a whine and collapsed against his own bench next to the smoking remains of his phone. “Oh my god. I was a meme. I sent him a meme one time.”

“And my Iron Rod is…?”

“Mr. Stark, I am begging you to stop talking.”

There was a terse pause where Peter awaited morosely to be told to leave; to be dropped outside his apartment again with a bye, c’ya, don’t call. And then -

“Do you?” Tony’s voice sounded... Small. Peter looked up quizzically, brows furrowing as he watched Tony rub at his arm. It was a tic - an emotional tell. “Want me to be your Iron Daddy?”

Peter almost groaned. Might’ve, if the meaning behind the words hadn’t rendered him incapable of anything other than surprise.

“I’d... Always thought it would be more a boyfriend thing,” he admitted. His crush had never been a secret but had always been swept under the rug as idolism and hero worship, never taken seriously. It had only been in his dreams and fantasies that Tony had ever reciprocated the feelings or taken his compliments to heart.

“Hm.” It was a flat response, thoughtful and veiling any true emotion as Tony moved to rub at his jaw, then turned away. “I’ll get you a new phone. FRI has all your data on back-up, so you won’t have lost anything.”

Peter’s heart sank a little and he took the unspoken rejection graciously, lowered his head with a short nod. He willed himself to be mature about it, sweeping away the remains of his old phone into the waste disposal and thanking the older man in a small, fragile voice when he was handed a sleek new device.

Tony had turned it on whilst he brought it over and it cycled through an installation before vibrating in his hand.

[Iron Daddy] I can do boyfriends. [19:21]

#fanfic #starker #starker fanfiction #starker fanfic #starker fic #starker fluff #getting together #confessions #ironspider #ironspider fanfiction #ironspider fanfic #ironspider fic #ironspider fluff #sfw #sfw starker #starker prompt fill #tony stark/peter parker #peter parker/tony stark #sie fics

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butwhyduh · 4 years

Text

Windows

Peter Parker x reader

So basically I got a prompt and accidentally deleted it, cuz I’m an idiot lmao. Peter is friends with the reader watches the reader out of the window cuz he likes her and then he finally comes in her window and confesses who he is and that he likes her one time. They are college aged. I hope I didn’t forget anything.

Warning;smut

Peter always felt like he had 2 lives. His superhero life and private life. But as he worked around the city and saw more people, he saw that there was a third life, home. People acted totally different in the privacy of their homes. Peter literally crawled on many windows on high rises and saw stuff he didn’t want to.

The first time was a pair of large breasts pressed against the glass as a woman was being fucked. Peter just webbed high without seeing in from the ground. As soon as his feet landed, her mouth made a soft o shape and Peter had jumped away from the window. The man probably hadn’t even seen him.

The worst thing he had seen was domestic violence and he wasn’t scared to climb through or shatter a window to save someone. Peter was usually pretty controlled in his actions, having literal super human strength. But when he saw a man punch a child, he had kicked in the window and webbed him to the ceiling. He had clenched his fist to resist pummeling the man. The sobs from the child had brought him back to earth with guilt. It was one of the few times that he waited with the victims until the cops came.

So when you, a classmate that he might think a little too much of, came to classes with bruises on your wrist, Peter was worried. He started following you. Was something going on at home? One thing he didn’t anticipate was that he was going to fall head over heels for you. The little quirky things you did when you thought no one was watching, dancing and singing into your hairbrush. Every time you got a phone call, you would flip off the phone before answering.

The fact that you were so kind to Peter in organic chemistry class didn’t help his growing crush. He had thought about asking you out so many times but it hadn’t been that long since he had broken up with MJ and he wasn’t sure he wanted to be burned again.

So instead he sat on the fire escape near your open window watching you live. He used the excuse that he hadn’t figured out why you were bruises to keep watching you. It was probably a random accident anyways. The shear curtains you had around you window whipped a little in the breeze and obscured the view into your room. So Peter had instead just listened to your softly playing radio and you light singing while doing his homework. He had the police scanner on in his ear but it was a quiet night.

Suddenly you screamed and he heard glass break. Without a second thought, Peter had jumped into your window and to your room. You had shrieked again.

“What the fuck?” You yelped, staring at him.

“What’s wrong?” He said seeing your coffee mug broken on the ground.

“A spider? There’s a spider in my room,” you pointed at a spider in the corner. Peter chuckled nervously before scooping the arachnid up and placing it out your window. It was only after that that he looked back at you and saw that you were only in your panties and bra. He froze for a second before turning away.

“Sorry y/n,” he said and mentally kicked himself. Spider-Man wouldn’t know your name. Fuck.

“How do you know me?” You asked staring. He couldn’t help but think you were absolutely gorgeous staring at him unabashedly in your current state.

“I don’t,” he squeaked and winced.

“I know you,” you said suddenly. “Your voice. Who are you?”

“That’s kinda the point of the mask. So no one knows,” he said with a nervous laugh. “I’ll be going,” Peter said walked to the window.

“Peter Parker,” you said.

“What?”

“You’re Peter Parker,” you said walking close and gently pulling up on the mask. He tensed at your touch but let you pull the mask off. “Peter,” you gasped.

“Uh hi?” He said before licking his lips.

“Holy shit. I wasn’t expecting this,” you admitted. You looked over his suit and couldn’t help but touch the spider on his chest and the webbing on his arm. Peter felt like his heart was going to rip out of the suit. You were so close and wearing so little and literally touching him through the thin suit. Peter started thinking of all the Yankee World Series wins because, of course, his dick wanted to respond. You touched the web shooter on his wrist. Your touches were light and curious but they felt like fire on his skin. He thought about the periodic table. Hydrogen, helium,..

“How do you do it?” You asked. “Like the webs? Are they organic fibers or synthetic? Where do you produce them?”

“Oh, um my apartment. They’re synthetic spider webs. A high density polymer with a super absorbent gel,” he said. You ran a hand up his arm and he inhaled quickly. Were you trying to turn him on or just curious about the suit?

“Kevlar lined Lycra?” You asked, giving the material a pinch. Peter jumped. Okay he was definitely semi-hard at this point. Fuck.

“Something like that,” he said before choking a little as you held both of his biceps.

“Not exactly what I imagined our first kiss to be like but I’ll take it,” you said softly.

“Our first-“ he said before being caught off guard by your lips on his. He froze for a second before responding. Your hand slid up to curl in his hair. You smelled like some kind of sweet lotion and the coffee you spilt. Peter gripped your waist, expecting fabric before feeling a jolt as he touched bare skin. Oh yeah, you were practically naked. You gently pushed him back towards your bed. You broke the kiss and pushed him back on to the bed.

“Oh, okay,” he said as you climbed on his lap. Peter’s hands gripped your thighs as you kissed his neck. You pulled at the suit a little with your fingers.

“How do we get this thing off?” You asked between kisses to his jaw and neck.

“Here,” he said and you pushed the button. His suit slid off his shoulders you shoved it down his body, touching his muscles as you explored him. Peter grabbed your breast through your bra and you sat up and pulled it off. He ran a hand down the middle of your chest and between your breasts before gripping one. You hummed a little with a shy grin.

“You want this right?” You asked. “I basically jumped you.”

“Yeah, it’s cool. Definitely cool,” he said running his hands along your body. You giggled before bending back down to kiss along his chest. You reached your hand into his suit and squeezed his hard cock. Peter gasped and grabbed your hips.

“Take it off,” you said breathlessly before climbing off of him. You pulled your panties off and walked over to your dresser where you pulled out a condom. Peter starred at your wet pussy as you walked back to him. He quickly shoved the suit down his legs and off. You straddled his lap before opening the condom. You jerked him off for a minute before sliding the condom on.

You sank down on his cock and made the prettiest sound. Peter wrapped his arms around your back and kissed along your neck and collar and you slowly bounced. You gasped and moaned freely. Peter could become obsessed with those little sounds you made.

You reached a hand down to rub your clit and he literally groaned at the sight. You taking pleasure from his body the way you wanted. You started speeding up and Peter resisted the urge to fuck up into you as he wanted you in control.

“Fuck me,” you pleaded and his hips started moving. Peter grabbed you by the waist before picking you up and flipping you both over and laying you on your back with your legs hanging over the edge of the bed. His hips snapped against yours roughly and you wrapped your legs around his waist.

“Yeah, like that,” you moaned. “Fuck.”

Your fingernails dragged along his back and your eyes were clenched closed in pleasure. “Peter,” you gasped as he changed his angle a little. Your mouth hung open and you made a ton of little noises. Peter was grunting and groaning against your skin too.

“Don’t stop. I’m close,” you breathed. He nodded and started think of the periodic table again. The way you were gripping him had him on the edge and he had to focus not to cum right there.

“Chromium,” he breathed as you temporarily clenched him as you got closer. Your brow furrowed a little in confusion but that was forgotten as you reached your high. You moaned out his name loudly and clenched him tightly. He gasped and came at the same time. He kept moving through both of your highs before stopping.

“Fuck,” you said before he pulled out to take care of the condom. “That was great.”

“Yeah,” he said shyly. He slid in bed with you. Peter wrapped his arms around your waist and you tangled your legs together.

“We should have done this months ago,” you said and he looked at you in surprise. “I’ve been missing out.”

He laughed nervously.

“Now you need to take me on a date because I don’t want this to be a one time thing,” you said laying your head against his chest.

“Yeah. I can definitely do that,” he said smiling. “I know a little Thai place...”

“Wait why did you say chromium?” You asked and he flushed a dark red.

#friday night smut #peter parker #peter parker smut #marvel #peter parker x reader #college spiderman #Spider-Man #Spider-Man smut #spider man x reader

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