#and st least today i get to go earlier than usual

[screwoffdotnet]

hungry . sleepy. coold. head hurts. 1 million final projects. no star trek. death may be approaching soon i fear

[jhilsara]

I Can See You

Pt. 1/ Pt. 2/ Pt. 3/ Pt. 4/ Pt. 5/pt. 6/Pt. 7/Pt. 8/Pt. 9/ Pt. 10/

Pt. 11/ Pt.12/Pt.13/Pt. 14/Pt.15/Pt.16/Pt.17/END

Mariana Jimenez-Watson or MJ works in a normal pub living life paycheck to paycheck. Nothing exciting happens to her except the occasional drunk getting thrown out. She's 24 working away and finds a wrench thrown into her very boring life. His name is Hobie and she thinks maybe, a little excitement isn't awful. In fact she might start to crave some change for once.

Small moments of Hobie meeting his world's MJ. AKA I made an MJ variant and I think she's neat.

Chapter 16

Mariana usually never gets off earlier than closing time. Today was one of those rare days that she got to leave around midnight instead of the early hours of three in the morning, or worse four.

She waves goodbye to Andy and the new girl who’s taking over her last few hours. Andy’s training her so they aren’t under staffed.

She leaves out the back and is ready to head home, maybe have a few hours of peaceful time to read or even catch up on a show or two.

She walks off down the street alone, it’s one of those nights that Hobie’s out patrolling and he can’t walk her home. Which wouldn’t bother her normally. Except about two blocks into her walk she feels like she’s being watched.

She stops and looks around, and the streets not dead, but the people walking are all tipsy walking to their next destination. No ones prying eyes are on her. She looks up, but still nothing. No one’s creeping on her looking out their flats windows, or at least that she can see.

She bites her lip and tries to push the sinking feeling away. She starts to walk once more. She makes it another block before the dreadful feeling consumes her. She doesn’t stop to look this time. She deviates her route. She isn’t walking home, not like this.

Not when she’s being followed. Part of her wonders if it’s that one patron from the bar, but he was arrested.

She shudders at the memory. She tries to not run, or quicken her pace. She knows one of the clubs down this road so she’ll just go there at least until they close. She sees the line to get in and she goes and waits. Her friend Sam works as the bouncer here and she greats her happily.

Sam’s like most bouncers, broad as a barrel and built to handle unruly crowds. She’s standing her post, arms crossed, looking intimidating without even trying. She’s more than glad Sam’s working tonight.

“I didn’t know you were swingin’ by tonight!” she says with a wide smile.

She returns it, but talks to Sam through her teeth, “I think someone’s following me...” She says in a tight voice.

Sam nods and rubs MJ’s back reassuringly. “Got it, go in and find Karla, she’ll get you situated.” She tells her.

She nods her head and dips inside, quickly walking over to the bar that Karla’s at. She’s shaking a bit and she’s never been happier that she’s close to the other bar workers in the area.

“Hey Karla,” she says leaning onto the bar.

Karla whips her head around and the smaller women looks more than happy. She smiles bouncing over to the end that MJ is standing at. She greets her happily.

“What are you doing here? Thought you were working tonight.” She asks her with a curious look.

MJ sighs and gives her the same story she told Sam at the front. She’s wringing her hands together nervously because the last thing she wants is to have another stalker.

Karla nods and tells her other bartender that she’s going on her fifteen. She pulls MJ to the back, which is much quitter from the booming music of the dance club.

“Do you have anyone you can call?” She asks MJ with concern.

She nods, she knows she’s calling Hobie. There’s no question there.

“Yeah, I got someone. I’m gonna call him and hopefully he picks up.” She tells her.

Karla nods and crosses her arms, “If he doesn’t me and Sam can take you home, or you can crash at our place. I don’t want you alone…not if you think you’re being followed.” Karla says nervously.

“I mean, especially after that other stalker almost attacked you… I don’t want another situation like that.” She tells her friend looking at her with worry.

MJ feels fear grip her heart at the memory, but she shakes it off. “Promise I’ll let you know. I’ll be fine though Hobie always answers when I call.” She reassures her friend.

Karla raises a brow, “Hobie? Is he the one you’ve been mucking about with all the time these past few months?” she says a little accusing, but MJ knows she’s being curious not mean.

She feels her own face burn a little and she nods. “Yea, we just, we get each other.” She shrugs trying to be indifferent.

Karla doesn’t buy it, rolling her eyes, “So he’s your boyfriend yea?”

“No, we’re…” MJ starts but stops…she feels her shoulders deflate. “I don’t know what we are…I just don’t want to lose him…he’s special.” She murmurs looking up at Karla.

She nods in understanding. “That’s how I felt about Sam, and now we’re married.” She says knowingly.

“Just don’t wait around too long, yea? I don’t want you to push someone away who could be good for you.” She tells MJ softly.

MJ nods solemnly, she doesn’t want to think about it. She’s scared, mostly. She doesn’t want to ask to define their relationship, because after everything with her mother… she loves him. She knows she does.

But she doesn’t know if he loves her. That is what scares her.

Karla’s break ends and she leaves, giving MJ a firm hug.

MJ doesn’t hesitate to call Hobie, still feeling the pit in her stomach from being followed. One problem at a time.

“Hey, you okay? You never call this early.” His voice slides through her speakers, easy and calm. It relaxes her. She can hear the cars in the distance, he’s probably on a building.

“Um… no?” She hesitates but sighs. “I’m at Spring Awakening, you know the dance club a few blocks down from the pub?” She tells him.

He hums in acknowledgement. “What’s wrong?” He asks her, voice calm, but she hears the wind. He’s already moving.

“Nothing technically, but, I don’t know, I felt someone watching me? Does that make sense? Someone was following me.” She tells him.

“If you think you’re being watched, odds are you are. I’m comin’.” He tells her in a firm voice.

“Can you stay on the phone with me?” She asks hesitantly.

He gives a soft chuckle, “Was plannin’ on it luv.”

It doesn’t take him more than ten or so minutes to get there. He knocks on the back door and she lets him in.

“You doin’ alright?” he asks her softly, holding onto her arms gently.

She nods, “Better now.” She tells him. “Let me go tell Karla I’m leaving, so she doesn’t worry.”

He nods and let’s her go back. She returns within ten minutes and he walks out the back with her. He’s still in his spider suit. Hoping it’ll keep anyone away.

“Do you want to walk home or swing? I could lose anyone if we swing.” He says with a smug tone.

She rolls her eyes, but the idea of being followed is enough to make her want to swing over walking. Even though she hates being up in the air. She doesn’t know how Hobie doesn’t get sick from it, but he’s built different. Literally.

He easily wraps his arms around her firmly and shoots a web. She’s flying off the ground and she squeezes her eyes shut.

He goes the long way, taking a couple of wrong turns just in case. She knows he has that… spider sense? She thinks that’s what he calls it. She really isn’t sure. She just knows that he senses danger much quicker than she can. So, she’s hoping that if that was going off he’d tell her.

He finally makes it to her complex and they both enter through the back. Hobie stays downstairs to wait it out. Just in case they were followed. She makes it to her flat and quickly goes in. She doesn’t bother turning on the lights and just drags herself to the bathroom.

She gave Hobie a key and he’s let himself in a million times. She’s ready to shower off the pub and the anxiety that’s still rattling around in her gut.

She takes a long shower, burning her skin with the hot water, her maroon hair falling down her back as she rakes her hands through it with shampoo. She tries to not think about the fear that gnaws at the back of her head. She’s okay, nothing happened. Hobie’s here and she’s safe.

She’s helped Hobie take down the Vulture, a Lizard, and the Green Goblin. She can handle some weirdo trying to stalk her. She’s dealt with worse.

She takes a shaky breath and finishes her shower.

When she exits the bathroom to the living room, Hobie’s sitting on her couch in his casual clothes just waiting for her. His head looks up as he hears her footsteps.

“Good?” He asks softly pressing a soft kiss to her temple.

She nods, “Just exhausted now.” She tells him truthfully.

“No one followed, promise.” He says as he stands up and stretches, “Go to bed, I’ll be in there soon. I need to shower.”

She gets up to grab him an extra towel and tosses it to him. “Your extra clothes are in the top drawer.” She tells him.

“I know!” he smiles brightly and pops into her room shuffling for some spare clothes before he closes the door to her bathroom.

She double checks to make sure her doors are locked, front and patio. When she’s satisfied she finally crawls into her bed. She tries to wait for Hobie but it’s a losing fight against the heaviness of her lids. She feels the weight shift as he gets under the covers and she rolls to find his body heat, but she’s already blissfully asleep. The last coherent thing she can remember is his arms slotting around her waist.

The next shift she has isn’t until that following Tuesday. It’s one of their slowest nights and honestly, they tend to only keep one bartender on.

She’s alone behind the bar, with one waiter and maybe about twenty patrons. It’s been a very slow night.

It’s around one in the morning and she needs to take out the trash behind the bar. She ties it all up, tells Mark, the waiter on shift, she’ll be right back.

Once she’s out back by the dumpster, she has that sinking feeling again. Like she’s being watched…or hunted.

She tosses the trash into the dumpster and before she can even turn around to look at her surroundings, she hears screaming and sees people running out of the pub. She doesn’t get a chance to see what’s happening before the pub explodes.

The explosion sends her across the pavement, rolling and debris falling on her. Everything hurts, searing pain goes down her body and she feels like she’s spinning. She can’t hear anything besides the ringing in her ears. She tries to open her eyes, but all she sees is smoke and fire.

She doesn’t even know where she is in comparison. The pub seems so far away, but too close at the same time.

She needs to push herself up, she has to get out, she’ll suffocate from the smoke if she doesn’t.

Her body barely moves and the burning pain that shoots up her right leg tells her it’s broken. She looks down and sees a large chunk of the brick wall is on her right leg. She squeezes her eyes shut and tries to think, but everything is spinning behind her eyes and she thinks she’s going to vomit from it all.

First things first, she has to at least pry herself out from under the wall debris.

She manages to sit herself upright and starts lifting what she can. It’s not as if the whole wall fell on her, but it’s big enough that her arms are shaking. She’s able to lift enough to shimmy herself out, but it hurts so much she’s sobbing. Once her broken leg is far enough away she drops the wall back down roughly and she falls flat on her back. Taking in deep breathes.

There’s still smoke everywhere and she needs to try to crawl away.

She sees yellow and green lights fly above her, quick and speedy and not normal street lights. She would know those lights anywhere. It was the bottom of the Goblin’s glider.

Suddenly she’s being swooped up off the ground and is flung in the air. She thinks it’s Hobie for a moment, but when she can finally open her eyes she’s staring at the mask of the Goblin.

“What-” she tries to talk but the smoke filled in her lungs makes her hack like crazy.

The Goblin jostles her and she shrieks, they cackle in response.

She struggles against them, shoving herself and trying to kick with her one good leg. “Let me go!” She spits out trying to shimmy herself away.

The Goblin’s flying on their glider faster than Hobie swings her above the city. Maybe this wasn’t her best idea, but it had to be better than being kidnapped.

“You’ll get put down, eventually.” They say in a clipped tone that makes her feel like they are talking about putting down an animal instead. It sends a shudder down her back.

She’s starting to panic and she has no idea where she even is. Suddenly the glider has a force pulling on it, and it almost sends her flying towards the ground. The Goblin’s grip on her is tight, almost bruising.

She tries to look for the source but she hears it before she sees it.

“Kidnapping now? That’s how low you’ve stooped?” It’s Hobie. His words might be the usual light joking tease he pulls when he fights, but the way he says it isn’t. His voice is hard and short.

He’s angry, in fact, she doesn’t know if she’s ever heard this tone in his voice.

“Looks like the Spider found it’s bait!” The Goblin cackles out, easily cutting away the webs to fly above.

“If you want her you better cast your web Spider-Man! The clocks ticking.” The Goblin goads him. He flies off and in the distance, MJ can see it.

It’s the Old York clock tower. It’s the highest structure in the city. Suddenly she feels her stomach drops. She shivers and the adrenaline shoots through her. Out of all the things she thought would happen today, being tossed off a clock tower like a rag doll wasn’t on it.

She starts to thrash against the Goblin but they just tighten their grip, and MJ feels the pain shoot through her broken leg. She cries out in pain.

“Mariana!” She hears Hobie shout for her, voice loud.

The Goblin flies to the top of the clock tower and hovers, waiting. Hobie lands on the tower, sticking to the side and glares up.

She feels the Goblin move her and dangle her above the city. “I’m tired of these games we play Spider-Man, and I’m getting tired of your little friend either interfering with my other chess pieces or almost killing me.” They hiss out.

MJ is clawing onto the arms of the Goblin tightly, she’s never been more afraid than in this moment. She bites back a sob.

“Not so brave now are you? You little brat!” the Goblin yells pulling her up to their face.

“Leave her alone, she has nothin’ to do with me! She’s just a random woman.” Hobie growls out, trying to dissuade the Goblin from doing anything drastic.

“Oh please, she’s important to you. You think you’re so smart, the both of you.” They say glaring down at MJ.

“You sent me to the hospital… I almost died because of that little flare gun stunt you pulled. You didn’t think I could see you, in the smoke, right? I made the tech on this suit, of course it can see through smog and smoke! I saw every little detail on your face little girl…and I’ll see your fear when I end your life.” They snarl to her.

Hobie tries to move to grab her, but the Goblin whips their head to look at him, releasing one hand from her to hover over the bombs on their belt.

MJ looks at the Goblin, and her own stubbornness might be the death of her but she doesn’t care, she’s more angry than scared right now. A fierce glare covers her face, replacing any other emotion. She sees the bombs that the Goblin’s hand hovers over on the utility belt and she gets an idea, it’s stupid, but it’s better than nothing. She erratically flings herself, to grab for one of the bombs on the Goblin’s belt and because their only gripping onto her with one hand, she succeeds surprisingly.

“I’m not afraid of a monster who hides behind a stupid goblin mask and bombs… and for the record, maybe don’t carry all your bombs underneath your glider where it’s an easy target.” She bites out. She hits the button to activate the bomb.

The Goblin, either in fear or shock, loosens their grip and drops her. It’s what she wants. She throws the bomb up, and it contacts the bottom of the glider. This time, a much bigger explosion than what her flare gun had set off.

She feels herself falling, she can’t see much beyond the smoke. She feels a little dumb in maybe her last moments, she thinks maybe her life should be flashing before her eyes but it’s not.

All she can really think about… is Hobie.

Beyond the smoke, she sees something falling towards her. She can’t make it out but it’s coming towards her quickly. She hopes its not the glider, she can’t dodge that in the air and she’d rather gravity be her demise than anything from the Goblin.

It’s not though, it’s Hobie. She sees his Spider-Man mask first as he falls towards her. Arms stretched out to grab her.

She laughs, it’s not funny, she’s just hysterical right now. She reaches toward him. Her barrels into her, wrapping his body around her tightly. She clings her arms to him, and feels the momentum of them falling together.

He keeps a good grip on her and shoots out a web, hurling them somewhere else.

She really might puke, she probably will once this is all over.

Hobie takes his time, swinging them and shooting different webs to slow down their momentum until their both safe on the ground. He lays her down, holding her head.

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you?!” He says in a clipped tone, but she can hear the fear behind his voice.

She’s breathing heavily, trying to calm down her own heart rate. “I… I need a hospital.” She says before turning away from him and vomiting on the street.

He picks her up gently when she’s done and goes in the direction of the nearest hospital, which thankfully isn’t far.

“What were you thinking? You could have died Mariana…” He hisses out to her, voice shaking.

She shakes her head, “They blew up the pub Hobie…they were trying to kill me…I was just taking them out with me.” She replies, voice raw and quiet.

“Fuck, Mariana…” He whispers to her. He’s looking ahead, he can’t look at her right now or he’ll crack. She can feel him shaking.

“It’s okay, I’m okay…we’re okay.” She tells him.

He’s shaking his head aggressively. “It’s not okay, none of this is okay. You almost died because of me.” He says in a tight voice.

He makes it to the hospital and rushes in, immediately the A&E staff are up and rushing over to them. He hands Mariana over to them. She starts to shove the workers away from her, this conversation isn’t over.

“Don’t you dare push me away because of this! Do you hear me?!” she shouts after him, as she is being dragged away to a room to be looked at.

“I’m serious! You promised!” She disappears behind the doors and the last thing she sees is Hobie flinch at her words.

The nurses that surround her are actively looking and prodding her, she cries as they touch her broken leg, and in the midst of everything the adrenaline stops and the exhaustion takes over.

Suddenly the world goes black.

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[clatoera]

Picket Fence is Sharp as Knives Chapter 6:  Not trying to fall in love but we did like children running

Hi my loves! So. I absolutely hate this chapter. I hate it. I think it's because I liked last chapter SO much and it was so important and this feels so...bleh. Idk. BUT I wanted to post something today for two reasons

It is exactly one year since I posted ARWBFB! Happy birthday ARWBFB, how far we have come! I wanted to go back to the OG roots with this chapter in honor of that, and do something that is just so quintessential Cato and Clove and thats what this is supposed to be!

This is the last chapter for about 2-3 weeks! I have a really stressful couple of weeks ahead where I find out if I have a job or not and will simply be too anxious to write in the mean time! So this is a little Clato-centric treat to hold us all over until I get back to writing in a couple of weeks!

Title from The Very First Night (taylor swift of course)

AO3

Masterpost

As always thank you to the besties who get me through. I quite literally hate this chapter and i'm not happy with it but I put it into the world anyway and it's for y'all. @bodyelectric77 as always, thanks for putting up with my pouting in the DMs. @kentwells I hope this satisfies your cries for Clato content. @ohhowwehavefallen you just get tagged at this point even if you don't want to be sorry not sorry.

Okay! Here we go. Happy birthday ARWBFB you will always be famous to me.

“Why are you all excited?” Clove teases, reaching her arms above her head so she can tighten her smooth ponytail, swatting his hand away as he goes to flick the ends down into her face. “You act like we’ve never done this before.”

“Clove, it's been literal years since we’ve got to do this. We were teenagers.” Cato slides his fingers under the strap of her sports bra and snaps it against her shoulder, something that years ago he learned would make her jump and give the cutest little scowl. When they were fifteen it was accompanied by a knife whirling past his head, but today it was met with a sharp fingernail jabbing his ribs in the same place she stabbed the day they met. “Besides…don’t you remember Enobaria telling us she was never letting us step foot in this new training center? What did she say we were going to do to it? Defer it?”

“Defile it.” Clove corrects, smiling just a little to herself at his enthusiasm. Yeah, maybe it was not the kind of training they had grown up with, but Cato’s excitement was borderline contagious. And yeah…maybe she was a little excited too. She had plenty of pent up aggression with no outlet other than a steak knife and a tree in the back yard these days.  “This isn’t training like we’re used to, you know. These aren’t special kids like we were.”

They clearly were not the first choice to take this class, gathered by the disgruntled and last minute request of Brutus earlier this same morning. Apparently the usual teacher canceled earlier this week, but Enobaria had been distracted by some sort of Cashmere related crisis (and if they understood from her vague but uncharacteristically flustered call, it was a Cashmere-Finnick-Glimmer kind of crisis and no one could blame her for her properly placed priorities) and she forgot to find a cover. It was a very hesitant Brutus who offered them the afternoon class followed with the promise of free reign of the athletic facilities afterward to do with as they pleased. 

“I haven’t even worked out like that in forever..” Clove continues her internal thoughts out loud, speeding her steps up just a little to keep in time with Cato’s much longer strides. “I can run, yeah, but I don’t even know if I could still do like..a pull up.”

“You’re still pretty flexible, at least.” Cato easily wraps both hands around her waist, before flipping her over his shoulder and tossing her just slightly into the air before she lands back in his hands. The way she kicks at him to put her down is not foreign, and his arms are long since trained to hold her steady despite her flailing tantrums. “And lightweight.”

“Cato, put me down!” Clove demands through gritted teeth, staring indignantly at the ground behind him. She wants to beat her fists against his shoulder and his spine, but experience has taught her that is no use. She is at his will until he decides otherwise.

“Ask nicely…” He taunts her, and she feels a firm squeeze at the top of her right thigh, causing her to squirm in his arms yet again. It is after this that he sets her down, but she realizes when her feet hit pavement rather than grass that it is not because of her own indignity. 

The building is not on the remains of what was once their academic and educational home, but rather a much smaller, independent center. It’s much nearer the school where Cato’s mother teaches rather than a pillar of status in the center of the district. It’s no grand home of future victors with the best weaponry district money can buy. No…it’s just a building with a couple of sports fields and some sort of indoor recreational area. 

In short, it’s the kind of place Cato and Clove would have seen as the loser training center, back in their childhood. 

He slips his littler hand into his, and gives her hand the littlest squeeze of confidence, before be absolutely pulls her inside, betraying even more interest than he had let on in their walk here. 

Even as they enter through the double glass doors, they simultaneously notice that it’s so incredibly different than the type of athletic training they had been exposed to in their youth. 

There’s about twenty four shoe cubbies on the wall underneath a coordinated number of hooks, all littered with various little child-sized rain coats and backpacks. There are windows all around the top of the room, pouring in natural light, that are open just enough to allow the air that hints of spring to filter in as a refreshing reminder of the impending warm weather and longer days. 

It’s such a staunch difference from what they grew up with. Now, the only way Cato can think to describe the center of their youth is dungeon like; no windows, fluorescent lights that fucked with the circadian rhythm of their adolescent bodies. Treating time outside and fresh air as a reward was probably some psychological trick to keep them hyped and excited for the games– arenas were almost always outdoors. 

On the other wall is a simple wooden desk, a stack of manilla folders, and an old pre-war desktop computer that had likely been repurposed from one of the many destroyed buildings in their district. There was a woman sitting behind the desk, with simple dark hair and matching eyes, typing absently as she inputs something into what they assume is an online system.

She looks up with disinterest, a monotonous voice welcoming them to the center. However, she must recognize them after a few moments of her typical spiel, because her head peaks up a little straighter. “Cato? Clove? I didn’t know you two were the replacements today?”

Clove recognizes her as a girl who was probably three or four years older than her, Selene if she remembers correctly. She had never even been a top three contender for the games; even if she had who would she have been killed by? Marvel? Annie? Johanna? 

Funny, Clove thinks to herself, that she does not see this girl as someone who would have been a victor, but someone who would have fallen to one of her now friends. 

“It was sort of a last minute thing, we didn’t expect to be.” Cato answers cordially, though the tilt in his voice told Clove he was trying to place this girl. “Selena, right? What are you doing here?”

“Selene.” The woman answers cooly, continuing the loud clicking of her nails against the keyboard. 

Clove resists an eye roll at the evident offense she’s taken to Cato’s lack of recall of her exact name. Clove was called Clover for half her childhood– suck it the fuck up. 

“I bring my son here,” Selene clips, slamming the keys a little aggressively, possibly more offended than she let on. “The quarry his dad worked in was one of the many destroyed in the war, taking him with it. I needed a job. The hours were good. Enobaria remembered me from back in the academy, she took pity on me.” 

“You have a kid?” Clove asks, mouth risking falling open in disbelief. In her head they were still children, even if she had been older than Clove herself it was hard to believe she was old enough to have a whole child. 

Cato raises an eyebrow, and something falls into place for him as to who this girl is even if he is sure not to betray that out loud. “I’m sorry..about his dad.”

“That's what happens to the rest of us, Clove, when we didn’t get to go to the games. We had to get jobs and go about our lives.”  Selene responds politely, but the way her eyes flick to the clock behind them reveals she is trying to get out of this conversation as quickly as she can. “Thank you, Cato, He’s in the same class as your sister, I think. Oh look, there he comes now–” 

A dinging bell, far less alarming than the whistle that used to be blown at them, signals what they can only explain as the end of the class, and children begin to pour out as parents begin to pour in from the outside. 

Cato and Clove are relieved from the conversation when someone slams into Cato from the side, and Clove only has to slightly lower her gaze to see Cora clinging to his leg. 

“Hey kiddo,” Cato immediately melts, his demeanor completely shifting as he pulls his sister onto his hip. “I didn’t know you were coming here today?” “Are we teaching your class?” Clove grins, suddenly a lot more enthusiastic at the thought of teaching when it came to Cora being involved. 

“No, she actually just finished up. We come here twice a week.” Cato’s mom joins them, rubbing her son’s arm affectionately before she hands Cora her backpack. “You must have the baby class.”

The enthusiasm Clove just felt falls as fast as her facial expression, and her eyes go as wide as dinner plates at the thought. “What do you mean baby class? I thought we’d have teenagers. Or kids like..our age.”

“You aren’t kids anymore, my dear.” Clove’s mother in law reminds her with amusement in her tone, taking her daughter from her son. “The baby class is right after Cora’s. They’re all five and under. You mean no one told you what class you were covering?”

The hesitance in Brutus’ voice makes so much more sense now– of course no one wanted them responsible for babies. Okay, kids, but really really little kids. 

“...Brutus just said we could have the space when the class ended.” Clove grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest as she watches parents of even younger children begin to drop them off by the door. 

“At least it’s only a twenty minute class.” Cato’s mother tries, but firmly takes Cora’s hand. There's an smug amusement in her voice that she does not even bother covering, “Tell Cato and Clove you’ll see them tomorrow for dinner, Cora. They have a class to teach.”

“Byyyye,” Cora whines, and as she starts to head out with her mother,  she whips her head back around to lock eyes with Clove. “Will you pleeeeeease take me to see Glimmer and the babies soon? You promised we could see them!”

“Soon, Cora. Soon.” Clove assured, giving her a little wave on the way out. Cora had demanded pictures of the twins every single time she had seen Clove in the couple of weeks since their birth, and practically begged to see them. Glimmer had been fine with it, and insisted it was okay to bring her during one of their many weekly trips to District One. Clove however couldn’t help but hesitate– weren’t school aged kids kind of gross to be around such new babies?

“...Twenty minutes, Clove. We can do anything for Twenty minutes.” Cato tries, but there's a unsure edge in his voice that does not comfort Clove. If either of them were going to be comfortable with kids it would have been Cato– his hesitance was doing nothing to ensure Clove this was going to go well.

As they brace themselves, slowly entering the general gymnasium area, Cato nudges Clove with his shoulder. “I finally realize where I can recognize Selene from.”

“Yeah, she was a couple years older than us in training–”

“No, no, not that. She was hooking up with my roommate when we were fifteen.”

“Delightful.” Clove responds, but the smirk on Cato’s face falls when he looks up and realizes it was not a response to his epiphany at all. 

At some point the room had filled with about ten kindergarten aged kids, who were in various positions from sitting criss-cross to face down on the floor. The one that lies face down on the floor lets out a high pitched cry completely unprovoked, and Clove looks around in what can only be described as horror. 

“What the hell were we thinking?” Clove hisses, low enough that none of the kids even looked over at her. She suppresses a gag as one of the little boys stuck his finger fearlessly down the throat of another, before the receiving boy chomps down on his invading fingers and he too joins his comrade in wailing. “Can these kids even tie their own shoes?”

As if the universe heard her question, one of the girls trips directly over her untied shoelaces and falls directly onto one of the other kids. 

“This is a nightmare.” Clove grabs Cato’s arm, pulling him down towards her height. “What the hell do we do with these kids?”

“...do you think we pair them up?” Cato half-suggests half-asks, quickly counting them up. “There's five boys and five girls, could we pair them?” “And do what? Teach them to wrestle?” Clove snaps, but she has nothing better to offer. “Fine. Whatever. Maybe we make them warm up first?”

“Hey..hey…hey!” Cato tries three times before his booming voice earns ten little shocked pairs of eyes staring up at him open mouthed and wide, more than likely never having been yelled at by such a large man before. “Do you kids want to run a lap or something to warm up?” Cato suggests, trying to move on quickly before he scares them to the verge of tears. 

A little arm shoots up from the same little girl who tripped over her shoes only seconds prior. Clove nods in her direction, but she continues to speak before Clove actually gets a chance to acknowledge her verbally. “What-sa lap?”

Clove stares, quite frankly a little dumbfounded. She was asking Enobaira to teach her to throw knives at this age– and these kids don’t know what a lap is? “A lap is when you run around the room in a circle.. You know what? Cato can show you.” She shoots him a smug smile, crossing her arm over her chest before using the other to gesture to the open gymnasium space. “Go ahead Cato!”

Cato can only glare at his wife, before he takes off in a half hearted jog around the room. Clove’s smug grin does not fall from her face until he returns in front of them, these kids still staring blankly up at them both. 

Cato gestures to the open room again, gesturing down to the group of kindergarteners. “Okay..your turn.” 

They are met with wide eyes and confused faces, and Clove and Cato exchange another look of confusion. “Are they dumb?” Clove whispers, and Cato responds with a light shrug before his arms cross over his chest. 

“You guys can run..” Clove explains again, speaking much slower this time as if that will help betray her meaning to the group. “Run…”

The same little girl as before raises her hand again, and as before she speaks before she is even acknowledged. “My shoes are untied.”

“Me too!”

“Me too!” 

A chorus of “me toos” seems to come from the entire group of children, all who stick their feet out expectantly. 

“Oh. And you don’t like..know how to fix that?” Clove questions, raising a dark eyebrow almost in disbelief. Did parents teach anything these days? “Why don’t you all just…take them off. Yeah. Take off your shoes and run like that!”

There’s a general mix of confusion from the children, but that is overpowered by the excitement of feeling like they are breaking rules as they all take off their little shoes and throw them casually to the side. 

One by one they take off running, little legs not carrying them very fast around the full sized gym. 

“They don’t go very fast do they?” Clove mumbles, rubbing her hand over the length of her face. “This should take up the next ten minutes at least. Then we only have to fill ten more.”

“Yeah! You have legs that size too and you don’t use it as an excuse–” Cato earns a sharp poke in his side for that one, but it does not take the smile off his face. 

Every couple of steps one of the kids wipes out, the combination of socks and waxed floor no match for their underdeveloped muscle coordination. As a fourth thud is heard, Cato shakes his head in disbelief. “These really are the loser kids.”

“District Two doesn’t make ‘em like us anymore.” Clove agrees, watching the clock tick by as one by one the group of kids returns in front of them, thoroughly out of breath as some of them lay down on the floor. “How was that!”

“I want to go home!” 

“Yeah, I want to go home too.” Clove whispers only for Cato to hear before she claps her hands in front of her. “Okaaaay. We are going to pair you up. Every boy is going to be with a girl-”

“Ewww girls!” Comes from one bratty little boy, who stomps his feet in a way that irritates Clove so deeply she wants to rip out her own hair. 

“You won’t always say that.” Cato assures, and continues trying to make little tiny pairs of boys and girls, who immediately are separating. Some throw themselves to the ground, some cling to their friends. Either way it is not going well. 

“I don’t want to be with a boy! Boys have cooties!” Another girl whines in protest, her little braids bouncing as she shakes her head back and forth. 

“That will change… That will change.” Clove murmurs to herself again, before putting her hands up in defeat. “What happened to discipline! And honor! And skill!” She asks in Cato’s general direction, gesturing out in front of them. “Who is raising kids like this!”

“Our ex-classmates, apparently.” Cato retorts, but finally waves his hand to silence the room. “Fine. You have ten minutes left. Just. I don’t know, play or something? Don’t kill each other.”

“Even that, we would have been encouraged to kill each other, Cato. We TRIED to!” Clove watches as the kids generally disperse into the open space. “This is unbelievable.”

“We better make sure Cora isn’t like this. And we are not letting Glimmer and Marvel raise losers either.” Cato insists, rubbing a tired hand over his face as the room is filled with the sound of kids just playing. “Actually they may be a lost cause, Marvel was a fluke victor.”

Clove snorts back a laugh, digging through the bin of various sized balls and other semi-athletic equipment used by the other classes. There was nothing knife-like nor sword-like in sight. She settles on a tennis ball, tossing it lightly up and down in her hand, testing the weight of it. 

Without warning she launches it at a target on the wall, and the sound of it smacking off the concrete brings the room silent for almost a moment. Clove ignores the ache that ebbs in her shoulder at the force, and goes back to find another of the same projectiles. “These aren’t even weighted properly.”

“You’re just that good.” Cato promises, wrapping his arms around her waist and letting his hands linger on the exposed skin of her abdomen a little longer. “I thought we were actually going to get to do something cool.” 

“I thought I'd get to watch you take a cocky teenage boy down. I love when you put them in their place.” Clove teases, before she goes back to digging for a couple more appropriately sized tennis balls for her to throw. When she turns back Cato is no longer directly beside her, but has migrated to the mounted bar against the wall. She watches the muscles in his back and shoulders flex as he effortlessly pulls himself up and down in rep after rep of pull ups as if they were nothing. And for Cato? They absolutely were.

She stares at him for a few moments, and even though he’s mostly minding his business, Clove knows him too well. He’s absolutely showing off, and wordlessly challenging her to do the same (and it helps knowing that she most definitely is staring a little too long at his arms as he does so).

Cato knows his display paid off when the sound of rubber on the wall hits round after round around his head as Clove continues to never miss a target. “I miss knives.” She remarks with loud annoyance as the final ball hits the wall, and when Cato opens his mouth to respond he realizes there is an eerie quiet in the room of children.

He lets go of the bar, feet hitting the floor with agility,  and when he turns around he notices ten pairs of eyes absolutely locked in on the two of them and their display of athletic dominance. 

“Clove…” Cato says calmly, taking a few steps towards her as she gathers ammunition for another round of throws. 

“What, you wanna show some actual skills other than flexing your arms-”

“Turn around.”

Clove furrows her eyebrows in confusion but does as he asks, trusting him more than she questions his motive. A sly smile creeps on her face as she sees the awed expressions of the kids they were supposed to be teaching, not ignoring, for the last ten minutes. “I think they’re impressed.. Nothing new. Who isn’t?” Clove begins, before she is cut off by the overly charming alarm that signaled class already being over. 

“That was actually pretty easy.” Cato announces, as the barefoot kids quickly run to meet the waiting arms of their rightfully confused parents. 

Not too long later, once the building is mostly empty save for the two of them, they sit side by side against the wall. 

Cato audibly sighs, stretching his legs out in front of him as his arm drapes over her shoulders. She didn’t need to say it, but he could tell from the way she leaned into him that she was feeling a little bit of an ache from the overuse this afternoon.

 “I didn’t think that would be so exhausting. I’m starving.” Cato admits, running his free hand over the side of his face.

Clove laughs, burying her face into his neck as she lets out a sigh of agreement. They didn’t even do that much. Just something about the whole situation; from the unathletic kids, to the whining, to the over competitive nature that their relationship would just never outgrow. “I think I have half a granola bar in my coat pocket. It’s no peanut butter and jelly sandwich but-”

“Damn, I was really hoping you’d peel all the white shit off a pomegranate with a knife for me like old times.”

“You don’t even like pomegranates that much.” 

“Yeah, but you’re pretty hot with a knife.”

[ren-c-leyn]

Happy STS Ren! Today I would like to ask about your editing process. You rewrite drafts for one thing, but what else do you do? What does usually change between drafts? Do you need distance to be able to see what needs to be changed? How do you evaluate the quality of your writing? Any editing tools/helps/rules that help you either to write or to edit later?

+ a writing update ^^

@writingonesdreams

Happy STS to you too, Dreams ^^

So, editing. It's not my favorite part but it's actually the most organized part of my entire chaotic process.

So, first, I have a confession to make - I do edit as I write. Sometimes line edits, if the typo/missing word/janky sentence are really, really bugging me. Mostly, though, it's me going back and making rough blocks of foreshadowing/events that needed to happen in earlier chapters to make my surprise plot twists make sense in later chapters.

The fact that I cannot do this part of my editing process with The Shackles of Time due to posting it as I'm going makes me very, very nervous as it is a key part of my writing. The problem with my chaotic style is not even I see some of the things that happen later on coming, therefor I could not foreshadow ahead of time. So, yeah. I reread Shackles of Time frequently to try to minimize this particular aspect of my writing/editing process. (I'm scared for when it gets long enough that I can't knock out a reread in a weekend. That's going to make future chapters a touch stressful XD)

When I finish a draft, I let it sit for a minimum of two weeks. Usually longer, but mostly because I'm juggling half a dozen projects all at different stages so things get dropped for a hot minute.

Sometimes I'll come back from letting it sit and do some minor to moderate edits, lines, some consistency tweaks, but no major overhauls of the plot. It honestly depends on how intensive the fixes to the story are needed if I do this or not. Usually this step happens when there's something about it that's bugging me that I can't quite pin down. If I do this extra step, I let it sit again for a minimum of 2 weeks.

Then I break out the physical notebook. Now, when I sit down with physical paper, that's it for the draft. No more edits, no more tweaks, it lives like that now. I read. Anything edits I need to make, particularly to character arcs, the plot, and other major overhauls get jotted down alone with things I really like about the draft that I want to keep.

Then I rewrite the entire draft using my notes and the previous drafts as a guide.

This process gets repeated over and over until I get a draft I want to keep. The requirements for a keeper draft is 1. No major overhauls needed, moderate and lower issues are easily dealt with without rewriting, plot holes have been resolved or can be resolved with a few added/deleted paragraphs, and the entire draft flows decently while I'm reading it.

Then I go through multiple editing passes to clean up the prose, add some detailing, scrap some filler words, and what have you until I'm happy with it.

That's not to say the finished product ends up flawless. I've reread chapter 1 of The Shackles of Time at least 6 times now and I still randomly find typos in it XD

~

As for your update, I finished up another celebration post. I just need to schedule it. I've been working on another one while doing other things today. Once I finish this one, I just have one left and then I'm done with the anniversary posts.

However, I have decided that I will be redoing The Shackles of Time's banner to celebrate it's second year. So all chapters scheduled after it's official birthday will have the new banner. I may decide to do a new banner every year as a sort of mini-celebration.

Other than that, I have nothing else to report. I've been making a mad dash to finish these up since October is just around the corner.

Thanks for stopping by, I hope you have a lovely day/evening.

[motownfiction]

mama said

When Sadie gets home from Daniel’s house, her mother is the only one there. Sam is at work, and Dad took Charlie to the mall to see Rad. Sadie makes a face at that one.

“Rad?” she repeats. “Like … that movie with the motorbike?”

“That’s the one,” Maggie says. “Apparently, it’s so bad, you have to see it to believe it. At least, that’s what Charlie kept saying.”

“Charlie just wants an excuse to eat popcorn in the dark.”

Maggie laughs a little, but Sadie can tell it bruises her, just a bit. Almost everybody in this house is a little too precious about Charlie. Sadie thinks it’s about time to cut it out. Charlie’s almost seventeen now, and it’s getting out of hand. But she digresses. Nothing she can do about it. Nothing at all. She’s not his mother.

“Yeah, I guess that could be,” Maggie says. “Anyway, what brings you home so early, honey? I thought you’d be at Daniel’s until way, way after dark.”

“I thought maybe I would be, too,” Sadie says, wandering into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water from the sink. “But then … I don’t know, something kind of weird happened to me at school today, and I thought it was better to talk about it with you now than wait until later.”

Maggie follows Sadie into the kitchen and scrunches up her face in concern.

“Well, you’ve got my attention,” she says. “What happened to you at school? Why was it weird? Are you OK?”

“I’m fine,” Sadie says. “Just … trying to figure out what my next move is.”

“Usually, I go with a shuffle-ball-change, but never underestimate the power of a good time step. People forget to go back to basics, but I think it’s a good way of doing things.”

Sadie laughs a little and flops down on the couch in the living room, a little bit of water from the glass splashing her in the face. She’s not sure why, but the feeling is welcome. Maggie smiles and sits down next to her – real close. A good mother.

“But if you want to be serious about it,” Maggie says, “what’s going on?”

“My English professor asked me today if I ever thought about majoring in English.”

Maggie makes a face. Not a displeased one, but a strange one. Like she’s somewhere between proud and confused. Sadie should know. She’s pretty sure she made the same face in Dr. Dennison’s office earlier today.

“Oh,” Maggie says. “Well … haven’t you?”

“I don’t know,” Sadie says. “I mean … I guess, a little bit, since I know that’s what you went into … and Lucy and her parents … but I never really thought … I didn’t want to take something that wasn’t mine, or just … fall into something just because some people I knew were already there. I’m already dating Daniel.”

Maggie laughs. Warm like a good mother.

“I know what you mean,” she says. “Well … I’m not going to tell you what to do, hon. I’m a big believer in everybody choosing for themselves. You know that.”

Sadie nods. Apart from nearly forcing Sam to go to college and having big, big dreams of Charlie becoming a professional musician one day, it’s pretty much true. Maggie Doyle was one of a few moms at St. Catherine’s who protested against the March for Life. Sadie’s always been sort of proud of her for that. Even in the face of rampant conservative conformity, Maggie’s always been herself. If only Sadie could do that.

“But you have input,” Sadie says. “Don’t you?”

“I always have input,” Maggie says. “They call me Opinionated Maggie. It’s not very clever, but it is accurate.”

Sadie laughs. There’s nobody funnier than Mom in a good mood.

“Tell me.”

“Well, believe it or not, I didn’t just decide to be an English teacher as a last resort,” Maggie says. “And I didn’t do it so I could cast myself in all the lead roles in classroom plays. I did it because when I thought about what it meant to do good in the world … the whole world, not just my family … I knew it’s how I could share something. I thought that even if I couldn’t help everybody who walked through my door, I could help a few people. And then they could help a few people after that. A chain reaction. I think. I got a C in chemistry.”

Sadie laughs again.

“That sounds familiar,” she says. “Something Sam said a couple years ago. Che buono.”

“Whose good.”

“Yeah. That. I guess … I guess I have to figure that out.”

Mom takes Sadie’s face in her hands and looks at her almost like she’s still a little baby. It’s time like these Sadie wishes that were still true. If she were a little baby, she wouldn’t feel so shaky all the time. If she were a little baby, she could just curl up in Mom’s arms and let her take care of the world. But it’s not just Mom’s world anymore. Sadie’s a part of it. A lost, trembling part, but a part, screaming and searching for a place to fit. She feels a few tears sting the backs of her eyes. For a reason she does not understand, she tells herself not to cry.

“Sadie, Sadie Lou,” Maggie says, just like when she was a little baby. “I think you’ve always known whose good you’re going for. But I think you’re looking for a different answer.”

“What do you mean?”

Mom smiles like she’s been waiting for this – not in a bad way, just an important one.

“You’ve always wanted to do everything for the good of other people,” she says. “Your brothers, your friends, Daniel, me. And that is so wonderful of you. I look at you, and I see grace. You’re all the best parts of your dad … pretty eyes and all.”

Sadie grins and rests her head on her mother’s chest. Just like being a little baby.

“But I don’t want you to get lost in doing things for everybody else,” Maggie says. “I want you … I want you to do something for you. Because you’re in there, Sadie Lou, I know you are. I see you like nobody else does because I’m your mom. And if you saw yourself the way your poor miserable mom can see you … God, you’d want to do something nice for her. You’d want to do something great.”

Sadie lets herself cry a few of those tears she’s been holding in. She wraps her arms around her mother’s neck – this time not like a little baby, but like herself, the screaming little growing-up part of herself that doesn’t know what she’s going to do in the world. Just that she wants to be in it. She takes a deep breath and decides to remember this moment. Mom smells like Estée Lauder’s Beautiful and the lemon zest from her pan of haricots verts. She smells like Mom.

“This is so much bigger than a major and a job,” Sadie says, wiping the tears away. “Isn’t it, Mom?”

Maggie nods.

“Bigger and smaller,” she says. “But if anybody can figure it out, it’s my girl. My best and my only.”

Sadie hugs Mom again. Closer. Tighter. Something about it. She doesn’t want it to end. She doesn’t want to let go.

“I love you,” Maggie says. “You can do it. Whatever it is. I’ve always known.”

Sadie lifts her head and nods. For longer than a moment, she decides she just might really believe her.

[pop-punklouis]

Hi loveee 💞

You might be right bc the first time I've heard my older cat hiss was when we showed her our younger cat lmaoo

Yesss attachment theory is so interesting I truly think it helps you understand yourself and others!

No exactly. That or I need someone to like encourage me. Being a perfectionist and having a fear of failure AND procrastinating are the unholy Trinity it runs together. The only reason I didn't abandon painting after a day is bc I somehow was okay at it. You bet your ass I've never watched a single tutorial I simply don't have the patience. I'm either decent naturally or it's not for me 💀

Re: fandom friends: I wholeheartedly agree

Re: shows. Nooo how do you do that 😭 I can't even watch more than one show at a time (unless they're all ongoing shows). I automatically go for light shows as like, coping but I also feel like watching several complex ones at once would be me if I wanted to cope but HARDCORE jfhfhf. Ooh I kinda get that. I liked ST season 3 simply for vibes and aesthetic and like, robin. I thought season 4 (while incredibly different from all seasons) was kinda cool but they kinda ended it messily which sucks. Guess we see where they go for the finale. Supernatural was good then bad then good then wtf?? Then good 👀 then the ending was: trauma I deserve compensation 😭 I do enjoy the earlier black mirror eps more but also I'll eat up more if they did more. White bear is a fav. I also like shut up and dance. I should rewatch it all I've got terrible memory. And I'll deffo be watching midnight mass!

Re: food. Oooh yes Mac and cheese. Simple yet so good. For me I think just Italian food. Pasta. I could have pasta for the rest of my life I think it's just so good.

For today: saw that you're graduating!! Congrats! But that made me realize I didn't know what you're graduating in, so if you feel like sharing, what did you study? Is this a postgrad? Future plans? (I usually hate this question so you can skip the last one!)

Have a wonderful day babe 💗

~🌱

hiiiii babe sorry this is so late this week has been so busy rip but!! i love that about you painting. yeah, i have to at least see some sort of potential in a skill or else i abandon it all together 💀 see! i’m like the opposite of a procrastinator?? if i see i have to do something like three weeks in advance i will think about it obsessively until i do it even though i still have like three weeks to have it done rip it’s so bad. i stress myself over something like i’ve got two days to do it instead of 18 days 🙃 but anyway yeah tutorials have never been my forte either. i like watching paint tutorial videos to help calm my mind down to sleep at night but otherwise

re: shows dude i KNOW i’m truly a masochist with my own brain watching shows. if i’m not watching three at a time i don’t know what i’m doing. it’s so bad. i could never watch multiple shows with other people because it would be a mess 👐🏼 omg how did i forget about robin yesss season 3 of ST had it’s good moments and i loved the robin character introduction. i think i would’ve liked season 4 a lot more if they had stuck to the original lore of the series instead of throwing new thinks in for shock value and plot twists to create new monsters and villains. and holy shit i forgot about the shut up and dance episode of black mirror that was also a really cool one. maybe i also need to rewatch the seasons again. but fr if they came out with more i’d watch them in a heartbeat. pls update me on midnight mass!!! also i recommend you watch 1899 too. i just finished it and i wish i was able to watch it again for the first time. it’s too good ✨

re: food. please love how pasta is both of our favorite foods. what kind of pasta is your favorite? i love cheese tortellini if i had to choose (besides mac & cheese of course)

and yes!! i graduated wednesday with my masters in film & media studies 🥺💕 i truly very little future plans at the moment besides relaxing for the next 5 or so months at home while i figure out what i want to do rip i have a lot of experience in a lot of different things in the industry but nothing has really grabbed me rip would rather just work in an antique store (own one is the dream) for the rest of my life. would be v happy i think 👐🏼

how has your week been? 🤍 have you done any christmas shopping? (if you celebrate!) i feel like christmas has just came so quickly i’m scrambling to do all the shopping and decorating two weeks out 😮‍💨 we just decorated our tree last week so it’s been frantic lol

[strangersyet]

3.5k words (nsfw)

MASTERLIST

bakugou x fem!reader

tw: porn with little plot, excessive use of the word daddy, dom!bakugou, degradation(a little), use of kitten as a nickname, lots of spanking, choking, overstim, unprotected sex, creampie, uhh i think that’s it

You were absolutely furious. 3 hours. It had been 3 hours since your arrogant, selfish, hotheaded fiancée was supposed to be getting home from patrol. Coming home late was nothing out of the ordinary for him. In fact, on a normal day, you would have been waiting in bed, curled up with a nice book or a particularly juicy reality show playing, awaiting his arrival patiently. However, today was no NORMAL day. At least not to you. Katsuki had just gotten back from a particularly long mission that had him across the country for almost 3 full weeks. In that time, you had promised him you would be good, not touching yourself without his permission (which he had only given you twice while on facetime with you).

Since he had gotten back 3 days ago, he’d been ‘recovering’ from his long trip, leaving you no chance to finally be filled the way you wanted- no, needed- to be. This morning you had finally decided today was the day, even going so far as to send him little messages throughout the day.

I cant wait until you come home daddy🥺 *1 image attatched*

pleeease come fill me up daddy, ive been waiting so long for you

i cant wait much longer, i might have to touch myself soon😩 *2 images & 1 video attached*

You had hoped the last one would be enough incentive for him to hurry home after patrol, to no avail. In fact, this had been the latest he’d come home in as long as you could remember. Even still, you expected at least some semblance of communication with you if he knew he’d be home later than usual tonight. But you had gotten nothing from him, all day. There were no responses to your messages, though you could see that he had read them. He hadn’t answered any of your calls, though the last few had been sent straight to voicemail. The lack of communication piled on top of your extreme sexual frustration had led to your current fury at the ash haired man.

So here you sat, tapping your foot impatiently on the floor, your back sunk into the couch and your arms crossed over your chest, the look of annoyance plain as day on your face. You were about to give up, to admit defeat and retreat into the bedroom for the night, when you heard the click of the lock, followed by a grunt and the door being swung open. There, standing in the doorway, with a shit eating grin on his face, stood Katsuki Bakugou. You narrowed your eyes at him, noticing the smugness written across his features as you remained planted to the couch. No way were you going to jump up and greet him as usual. No, he would have to come to you tonight.

As he closed the door behind himself and began to stride towards you, you took in his appearance. He was no longer in his hero suit, seemingly having showered and changed into his joggers and t-shirt at the agency. He squatted down in front of you, placing a thick scarred hand on each of your knees, parting them slightly as he made space for his large body between them. Slowly, his eyes trailed from your knees up your thighs, to the valley between your legs, and ever so slowly they made their way to your scowling face. “Someone doesn’t look as happy to see me as they seemed earlier.” He quipped in his gruff voice, unable to keep the smirk from his face.

You rolled your eyes, breathing hard out of your nose as you stared back at him, unwilling to back down. “Well that was before you completely ghosted me and came home 3 hours later than you were supposed to.” You bit back, unable to keep the tinge of hurt out of your voice as you looked down, staring at his hands bitterly. Katsuki sighed as he squeezed your knees softly. “Stupid fuckin’ phone died. I didn’t have a charger at the office.” He shrugged. “I stayed late finishing up all the bullshit paperwork from that last mission so I didn’t have to go back in on my day off tomorrow. Wanted to spend all day with you, brat.”

Your eyes flew open at this, head whipping up to look at him once more. “W-well.. why didn’t you respond to my texts then? I know you read them.”

“Tch. I couldn’t exactly respond while on patrol, dumbass. Unless you want Kiri looking over my shoulder and seeing those pretty little pictures too.” he smirked. Your eyes went wide, mouth opening and closing, failing to form a response as you softly shook your head no.

“Didn’t think so. They were very pretty pictures, by the way. And that video..” his eyes slowly trailed down your face again, landing on your lips that were softly trembling with bated breaths. “You’re lucky my volume was down, dumbass. Otherwise everyone on the street would have heard you begging to be filled by my cock.” His hands slowly trailed up your legs, squeezing the plush of your thighs as they made their way to the hem of your shirt. You were frozen, eyes mesmerized by the movement of his large, warm hands on your skin.

“But maybe that’s what you wanted, hah? Wanted everyone to hear you begging for daddy to fill you up, is that it?” He tugged at the hem of your shirt, glancing up at you as you shook your head from side to side, answering silently as you were currently finding it hard to form any real coherent thoughts. He removed one hand from your shirt, reaching it up to grab your jaw softly between his thumb and forefinger, prompting you to look him in the eyes once more.

“I asked you a question, kitten. Is that what you wanted? For everyone to hear how desperate you are for my cock?”

“N-no! That’s not what i wanted!” You sputtered out, shaking your head as much as you were able between his grip. “J-just wanted to show you! Only you!”

Katsuki chuckled, his eyes darkening by the second as he slowly moved his hand off of your jaw, moving it back down to grip the bottom of your shirt as he swiftly lifted it up and over your head, throwing it somewhere into the abyss of your shared apartment and springing up to his feet. He wasted no time in lifting you up, hooking his hands under your knees as you squealed, wrapping your legs around his waist as he spun around, now sitting himself on the couch with you clumsily straddling on top of him.

You giggled, looking back down into his eyes as you took in his blown pupils and hard breathing, scarcely able to hold yourself back as you crashed your lips onto his. It was messy, all teeth and tongue, the build up of almost a month of being apart pouring into this moment, drenching every fiber of your being with the thought of finally getting what you had been so desperately waiting for. You pawed at his back hungrily, doing your best to lift his shirt up, parting the kiss briefly to lift it over his head and throw it to join your mounting pile of discarded clothes, eventually shimmying yourself out of everything you had on and getting Katsuki down to just his briefs.

Katsuki growled as you finished pulling his joggers off, snatching your waist as soon as you had thrown them and pulling you back on top of him as he started sloppily placing wet kisses up the column of your throat, latching on to the sensitive spot just below your ear that he knew would elicit a groan out of you. You bucked your hips softly at the sensation, tilting your head to the side to give him more space on your neck to work with as you threaded your fingers through his spiky locks, tugging gently. This pulled a moan from the man below you, causing him to reluctantly pull away from your neck and wrap his arms around your waist, turning your body so you were now layed down fully on the couch, Katsuki looming above you.

“So fucking pretty,” he mumbled, trailing a hand down your body with a feather-light touch. His hand dipped down, fingers tracing around your clit, avoiding it as they reached your entrance, soaking wet and practically on fire to the touch. “Look at you, kitten. Practically dripping already and I’ve barely even touched you. Was my kitten good while I was away?” You nodded fervently, babbling out a “Yes! Yes i was good!” Katsuki smirked as he teased your entrance with a calloused finger. “Did you touch yourself without permission? Don’t lie baby, ‘cause i can always fuckin tell.”

Your breath hitched as he teasingly dipped his fingertip into you, pulling back out almost instantly. “N-no! I would never! I promise daddy, p-please-” your words were ripped from your throat as Bakugou finally plunged his finger into your wet heat, slowly pumping up to his first knuckle, working his way to his full finger. Your soft gasps and quiet moans echoed throughout the apartment, along with the embarrassing squelching noise of Katsuki’s torturously slow fingers entering you.

“M-more, please, fuck- please!” You whined out, reaching out to find anything to ground yourself, finding the back of Katsuki’s head and pulling him to you. He obliged, latching his mouth onto your nipple and rolling it between his teeth as he added a second finger into your sopping entrance, scissoring them swiftly and lifting up his thumb, slowly tracing circles around your aching clit.

You moaned loudly, pulling him closer to your chest as you bucked your hips into his hand, which spurred Katsuki into action. Using his free hand to pin down your hips, lifting his head to look down at you as he worked you towards your high. “Oh no, greedy little thing. You take what daddy gives you. Greedy little sluts don’t get to cum. Do you want to cum?” He rasped out. “Yes, fuck! Please i need-need to cum!” You babbled out almost incoherently, your high rapidly approaching. “I know you’re close, kitten. I can feel you clamping down on my fingers. You gonna come for daddy? Fuckin cum, slut.” He spat out.

“Fuck I’m s-so close, please don’t stop, please-” Your words died in your throat, eyes crossing with pleasure and head throwing back as your orgasm rippled through your body, white hot pleasure coursing through every nerve ending. “There’s my good fuckin girl,” Katsuki groaned, the tent in his briefs growing uncomfortably tight as he worked you perfectly through your orgasm, pulling his fingers out slowly and holding them up to you. Instinctively you opened your mouth, tongue lolling out and eyes looking back into his as he shoved them into your mouth. He couldn’t help but moan lowly as you closed your lips around them, tongue lapping and swirling as you cleaned your essence off of them.

“Good girl,” he praised, pulling them from your mouth with a pop. “Do you think you deserve daddy’s cock?” You nodded your head wildly, pleas falling from your lips without hesitation, begging for him to finally fill you up and quench your frustration. He nodded slowly, standing up and holding out his hand for you. You grabbed it tentatively, unsure of his next move, but were silently answered as he pulled you up from the couch, ushering you around to the arm of it, turning you and pushing you face down into the cushion, your lower half still standing on the floor as the arm of the couch was under your hip, face pressed into the cushion.

You gasped, moaning as he brought his hand down into your ass cheek, repeating the motion onto your other cheek as you turned your head to look back at him. He wasted no time in ridding himself of his briefs, and you watched with hungry eyes as his cock sprang free, the angry red tip smacking up and practically touching his belly button, pre already leaking down. You licked your lips, hungrily awaiting his next move.

“Fuck princess, you don’t know how long I’ve been thinking about this. It was so hard to not just leave in the middle of patrol today and come absolutely ruin you.” He fisted his cock roughly, smacking it onto your ass a few times as he teased you. “Sending those naughty pictures, you knew what you were doing. This is what you want, right? You want me to stuff you full, right here?” Your whole body twitched as if you were jolted by electricity as his tip nudged your entrance, coating himself in your juices. You were quick to nod, babbling out “Yes, please stuff me, please fuck me!”

“I don’t know,” he teased, nudging your clit with his cock repeatedly, pulling soft whimpers from you. “You don’t sound like you want it very much right now, kitten. Why don’t you tell me exactly what you want. C’mon, use your fuckin’ words baby.” He grinned, the muscles in his neck tightening as he used all his self restraint to not shove his entire length into you then and there. “I want you,” you whined. “I w-want you to fill my pussy with your cock, i want you t-to use me as you wish and make me cum on your cock!” You stuttered out, embarrassment seeping into your tone as your face flushed red.

Bakugou grabbed your ass, stretching his hand to ghost over your entrance with his thumb, pulling you open to him as he used his other hand to guide himself to your entrance, biting his lip as he finally, finally pushed the tip inside you, slowly filling you up with his length. The moan that was ripped from your throat when he finally bottomed out was borderline pornographic, the feeling of finally being full was everything you had been waiting for. Katsuki was unable to hold back his own moan as he stilled himself inside of you, giving your walls time to accommodate to his size.

After a moment, you wiggled your hips in an attempt to get him to start moving. “Katsuki,” you called. “Please, move!” He looked down at your lust blown face, grinning as he grabbed onto your hips, pulling his length almost all the way out before slamming it back in again, mesmerized by the fat of your ass jiggling with each thrust. “F-fuck, kitten. Quit squeezing me so hard, ‘m not gonna last-” but you couldn’t help it. After being deprived so long, you were in ecstasy finally having him here, finally having him home and having him split you on his cock over and over again.

“Yes Katsu, fuck! Right there, oh fuck!” You groaned, face rubbing uncomfortably against the couch cushion as he slammed into you, feeling him grab your ass with a grip you were sure would leave bruises, but you didn’t care. You couldn’t bring yourself to think of anything but the feeling of Katsuki shaping your insides to match him, the feeling of the vein on the underside of his dick rubbing you with every thrust, the feeling of his heavy balls slapping your clit deliciously with each rut of his hips.

“Such a good fucking girl taking me so well. Who’s making you feel so good, huh?”

“You, Katsuki! You are!” He leaned his chest down to your back, reaching a hand around and slapping your clit roughly, shaking his head. “That’s not my fuckin’ name. Who’s making you feel this way, huh slut?” He asked once more.

“You, daddy! Daddy’s making me feel so good- fuck please don’t stop!” You rocked onto your toes with each thrust, feeling the coil in your stomach start to tighten once more. Katsuki could feel it too, your velvety walls clamping down on him, attempting to suck him back in each time he pulled away. He used the hand that was already snaked around you to slowly circle your clit, adding the perfect pressure that had you practically falling apart, teetering on the edge of your high as he relentlessly thrusted into your heat.

“You gonna be my good girl and cum for me again?” He teased, whispering directly in your ear before softly nipping the shell. You nodded, babbling out nonsense whimpers of yes, of please don’t stop, of right there. He continued his thrusts and the insistent circling of his fingers on your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the cliff, whispering again in your ear “Cum for me, kitten. Good girls do as their told.”

That’s all it took for the coil in your lower half to snap, your high pushing you off the metaphorical cliff at lightning speed as you arched your back, chest pushing impossibly far into the couch cushion as you came. Bakugou didn’t stop his thrusts or his fingers circling your abused nub, even when you slowly came down from your high.

“F-fuck Katsu- ‘s too much!” You whined as you tried to arch away from his touch. But you were effectively trapped between his body and the arm of the couch, unable to shy away from his ever persistent touch. “I think you have one more in you, kitten. Whaddya say? Cum one more time for me, pretty girl.” He smirked from above you as you squirmed beneath him.

You whimpered, barely able to form a coherent thought other than the feeling of pleasure as the overstimulation numbed your brain. Above you, Katsuki adjusted himself, reaching down one hand to gather your hair into a makeshift ponytail in his hand, pulling harshly as he lifted your upper half up to him, pulling your back to his chest. He let go of your hair then, instead snaking his hand around to your throat, squeezing slightly as he continued hammering into you, his other hand still snaking circles around your swollen clit. You moaned loudly, finding yourself alarmingly close once more to your high, only needing a little final push to get you there.

As if reading your mind, Katsuki’s lips brushed your ear, his harsh voice ringing in your head as he spoke. “You’re clamping down on me so tight princess, you want me to fill you up? Want me to cum inside this pussy and breed you full? Fuck- I’m gonna fill this pussy all the way up baby, fuck I’m so close-” That was all it took to catapult you over the edge once again, your high taking over all of your senses and your mind going completely blank as the pleasure washed over you in waves.

Katsuki wasnt faring any better, the guttural groan ripped from his throat as his hips faltered, your velvety hot walls clamping down on his pulsing cock pushing him to his own high, thick ropes of his seed flooding into you as his thrusts slowed. He stilled finally, lowering you softly back down to the couch cushion as you both came down from your highs. He stayed hugged to your body, hunched over you as you both caught your breathe, and once your breathing returned to normal he kissed your shoulder and whispered into your ear. “Don’t fuckin move, I’ll be right back.”

He gently pulled out of you and you instantly felt empty at the loss of him, and cold without his body heat to keep you warm, despite the light sheen of sweat that clung to your body and made your hair stick to your forehead. You closed your eyes and hummed contently, and not long after Bakugou returned, holding a cold water bottle along with a damp washcloth.

He gently cleaned you up before standing you up and guiding you to sit normally on the couch, handing you the water bottle and moving then to clean himself up and lazily pull his joggers over his bare legs as you lazily took a few swigs of the cool water. The icy drink washed over your tongue, instantly cooling you and you let out a soft “ahhh” before offering the bottle to Katsuki. He traded you the water bottle for your shirt he had picked up, gulping down the rest of the bottle and flopping down next to you as you tossed the shirt over your head.

He threw his arm around you, pulling you into him as he nuzzled into your hair. You smiled brightly, curling into his side and inhaling his scent, finding comfort in the sweet scented sweat he gave off. “m sorry i was late. I shoulda told you I’d take a while tonight.” He grumbled into the crown of your head. You relaxed further into him. “It’s okay. You have all day tomorrow to make it up to me.” You looked up at him and winked, standing up and swaying your hips in front of him for a moment before whipping around and darting to your shared bedroom.

Bakugou threw his head back and groaned, faux annoyance in his voice as he sprang up and said “God, Shitty woman, i fuckin love you, but i swear you’re gonna be the death of me one day,” before racing after you.

[gleamglows]

Ask for a sirius request and you shall receive. I've been thinking about this idea for a while (and your writing is perfect for it ily) but how about a ravenclaw reader who is friends with james or remus and they introduce them? The one in my head was remus going to her dorm for a sleepover and bringing sirius and just being like "isn't she neat :)" and sirius immediately falling in love 🥺 no pressure if you dont vibe with it 🥰 ily bunches

i went to ravenclaw tower and all i got was this lousy stained shirt

pairing: sirius/reader

word count: 3.9k

summary: james and remus play matchmaker for you and sirius

content: ravenclaw!reader, fluff, it gets awkward (some of this was hard to write... 😭😭), dialogue heavy, you and sirius are very back-and-forth-y and witty (you’ll see what i mean), i know the title is long but i thought it was funny and i can do what i want

this was such a fun request!! i hope you don’t mind i took some liberties because i just immediately imagined remus and james secretly trying to match the two of you up for a while!! also i turned the sleepover into a party at ravenclaw tower!! (also also i came up with some cute ravenclaw girl ocs just for this, they were supposed to be minor but ended up having their own sideplots because i get carried away with everything. but they were fun to write! i gave them backstories and everything so if anyone wants to know more about them just ask :)

warning: mentions of alcohol!!

“You should meet Sirius.”

“Black?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, do you know another Sirius?”

You stick your tongue out at him and Remus smiles.

“What is it with Sirius, huh?” you tell him, adding a few drops of rain water into the potion before handing Remus the spoon to stir. He takes it and immediately gets to work.

“You and James,” you continue, idly counting Remus’s counterclockwise stirs in your head. “Not a day goes by where you don’t tell me I have to meet Sirius.”

In truth, you’d seen Sirius a few times. And he’d seen you, but neither one of you had actually spoken more than a few words to the other. Especially not since sixth year. Sirius had dropped Potions and Astronomy as quick as he could - the only two classes you’d had left with him. And seeing as you were in different Houses, bumping into each other in the common room was off the table as well.

But you had Potions with Remus and Astronomy with James, and whenever they could, they would always mention how you just had to meet Sirius. You sometimes wondered if Sirius was always being told he had to meet you.

“I just think you’d get along,” Remus shrugs, halting his stirring before you can even tell him to do so.

You both work in tandem for a bit after that, dropping ingredients into your potion and stirring when needed. You liked partnering up with Remus for this exact reason. You’d both fall into a comfortable silence and develop a good rhythm - you just flowed well together.

Once the potion is nearly finished, Remus speaks up.

“What about tonight? Isn’t there a party at Ravenclaw?”

“Robin says not to call it a party.”

“Well, that’s what it is.”

“Yeah, but we can’t call it that. At least not out loud,” you insist, not wanting your dorm mate’s wrath to come back later and haunt you. “It’s a quiet get-together,” you correct him.

Remus scoffs, knowing damn well that Ravenclaw parties are anything but. “That, then. You can meet him there.”

You raise an eyebrow in complete disbelief. “You’re gonna get Sirius Black to come to a Ravenclaw party?”

“What happened to quiet get-together?”

Damn it.

You quickly spare a glance at Robin, but she’s all the way across the room, scolding her partner for something he did to their potion.

“Good luck with that,” you continue, pretending to ignore his quip.

“We’ll convince him!” Remus assures you, as if it’s the least of his worries.

“Okayyy...” you sing, entirely unconvinced.

You’ve never seen Sirius Black at a non-Gryffindor party. He has way too much House pride to ever be caught partying in another common room. You’re almost positive you’ve seen him root for Gryffindor at Quidditch matches even when the team isn’t playing.

“Okay? So you’ll meet him?” Remus presses.

You laugh. “Okay! I guess!” you tell him, resigned. “But you and James have been hyping him up for a while, so don’t be surprised if he doesn’t live up to my expectations and I end up hating him.” You shrug a shoulder as you turn down the fire under the cauldron.

Remus just grins. “I guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

.

.

.

Despite your nonchalant attitude with Remus earlier today, you actually find yourself feeling a bit nervous.

“Hey, do you guys know Sirius?” you ask over your shoulder as you straighten your outfit in the mirror. “Black?” you add quickly.

“Did you just ask us if we know Sirius Black?” A shrill voice cuts through the air and you know immediately that it’s Robin.

You groan, “I know, I know, everyone knows-”

“Everyone knows him,” Robin talks over you, and then sprays a copious amount of hairspray into her already voluminous blonde locks.

You move out of her way so she can use the mirror and she gratefully takes the opportunity, stepping in front of you to fluff up her roots.

“Yeah, how do you not know him?” Bea calls from the bathroom, where April is helping her into her dress.

“I mean, I know him,” you say, flopping down on your bed. “But I don’t actually know him. You know?”

“He was April’s first kiss!” Bea taunts. She makes several kissy noises and then you hear her say ‘ow!’

“You’ve got to stop bringing that up,” you hear April scold, “It was second year!”

Bea giggles and then skips out of the bathroom, April trailing closely behind.

Bea has on a stunning yellow sundress with long, belled sleeves - going all out, as usual. The color compliments her dark skin beautifully, but you know she’s really only wearing it to lure in that Hufflepuff boy she’s had her eye on.

April has still yet to get dressed, always waiting until the very last minute, but her straight black hair has been flawlessly curled - presumably Robin’s work.

“So what is it? Why do you wanna know about Black?” April asks politely, leaning against your bedpost as Bea sits on her trunk to slip on her shoes.

“James and Remus... They’re gonna get him to come here.”

Bea nearly drops her shoe, and Robin spins around to face you.

“Here?” The two say at the same time.

“Is he really?” April asks mildly, voice much gentler than the other two.

You shrug and nod your head at the same time, giving them an uncertain look. “I think so? Maybe? If they can convince him.”

There’s a beat of silence and then the hissing sound of Robin’s can of hairspray fills the air once more as she frantically tries to get her hair to cooperate. At the very same time, Bea starts to rummage around her wardrobe, muttering to herself about how ‘I think I have a red dress in here somewhere...’

It’s clear they’re both doubling their efforts, hoping to catch Sirius’s eye.

You laugh a bit and then turn to look at April, whose eyes are stuck on Robin’s reflection. She has a solemn expression on her face, but quickly snaps out of her trance when she notices you watching her.

“So,” she starts, putting on a small smile, “You’ve really never met Sirius Black?” she asks, sitting down beside you and crossing her legs beneath her.

“No, but I hear you have,” you tease, and she rolls her eyes.

“Yes, the first and only boy I’ve ever kissed.” She rolls her eyes.

You hear Robin fumble with her can of hairspray but think nothing of it.

April continues, “Anyway, that was second year,” she waves it off. “I do have muggle studies with him.”

“What’s he like?” you find yourself asking.

April shrugs a shoulder. “He’s nice, I suppose. Funny. Asks the professor a lot of questions about motorbikes.”

You tilt your head. “Motorbikes? Why?”

“Who knows. I think you two would get along, though.”

“Why’s that?”

April observes you for a few beats and then laughs a bit. You expect her to say something more but she just gives you a slight nudge with her elbow and then walks off, most likely to go get dressed.

Well that was pointless. You didn’t really learn anything useful. But then again, you’re not sure what you expected out of a conversation with April, who tends to keep her talking to a minimum (She claims it makes her more mysterious) (And she’s right, too).

Oh well. Perhaps you could find a way to strike up a casual conversation about motorbikes with Sirius.

Yeah, right.

.

.

.

It’s a few hours into the party when the door opens up, letting in James and Remus. Trailing behind them, looking unnecessarily wary, is Sirius Black. He traipses around as if at any moment something in the common room is going to jump out and bite him, and you struggle to stifle a laugh.

You quickly wander off before any of them can spot you, fleeing towards where the drinks are. You figure that when they find you, you may as well be doing something instead of just lamely standing around. So you pick up the ladle and start to refill your cup.

April had transfigured her cauldron into one made of glass, and Robin had used it to concoct her famous sickly sweet, lavender colored drink that she’d aptly named ‘Robin’s Brew’. It was made up of a mixture of muggle and wizard liquors, as well as a myriad of different fruit juices. The taste itself was actually semi disgusting, but you get used to it after the initial few sips.

You ladle some more of the drink into your cup and then spin on your heel, ready to resume the search for your friends.

That is, until you crash face first against a broad chest, effectively spilling ‘Robin’s Brew’ all over whoever you just bumped into.

“Oh my gosh!” you blurt out, setting the now empty cup down. “I am so sorry, I-” Your words catch in your throat when you finally look up to see the person’s face.

So much for a good first impression.

Sirius waves you off, looking down at his now purple stained white shirt. “Don’t worry ab-” he stops in the middle of the word as he raises his gaze to look at you.

His lips are still slightly parted as if his voice had simply escaped him mid-sentence, and his expression is stunned and mesmerized all at once.

“I, um...” he tries again, but it’s as if he’s been put in some kind of trance just by looking at you.

“Oh, great! You’ve met!” A cheery voice cuts through the tension, and you both turn your head to find James beaming at the two of you.

Trailing behind James is Remus, who takes in the state of the two of you and grimaces.

“Met?” Sirius voices as he looks at James, sounding a bit dazed.

“Yeah, remember? Y/N!” James reminds him. “She’s great, right?” he grins, and you cringe.

“Oh, this is...?” Sirius slowly turns his head to look at you again. “Hey...” he says faux-smoothly, as if attempting to salvage your very first meeting.

“Hey...” you say back a bit awkwardly. “Um... Look, there’s towels in my dorm, we can all go?” you suggest, looking to the others for approval.

“Why don’t you two go?” Remus proposes instead, and you shoot him an alarmed look.

“Yeah!” James nearly shouts, looking at Remus as if he’s a genius. “Yeah, you’ll find us later!” he’s quick to agree, and they both start to walk away.

You let out a nervous laugh. “Oh, I don’t know if-” you start, not sure if comfortable enough to be alone with a man you just met after spilling your drink on him.

But Remus and James don’t wanna hear it.

“Alright! See you later!” James throws a finger gun at you as he walks backwards and then spins on his heel.

“But I-”

“Bye!” Remus calls, and then they both disappear into a small crowd of people.

You turn to face Sirius, whose shirt is still dripping and who’s watching you with rapt intrigue. He turns away the moment your eyes meet, clearing his throat awkwardly.

Soon enough you’re leading Sirius down the corridor that leads to your dormitory, trying desperately to remember whether or not you’d tidied up your area of the room.

The door swings open just as you arrive at it, and from out of it come April and Robin who seem to be having a serious looking discussion. They quickly stop talking as soon as they spot the two of you, and April is quick to storm off, leaving Robin behind.

“Oh, you’ll want to get rid of that,” Robin says with a wince, gesturing at Sirius’s shirt. “The stain actually gets darker the more you try to get it off... So...”

You give a heavy sigh. “Yeah, thanks Robin.”

She shrugs apologetically with both hands in the air and then starts to walk off. “Robin’s Brew! Patent pending!” she calls over her shoulder as she scurries off to catch up with April.

“What’s up with them?” Sirius mutters under his breath as you lead him inside.

“Well, aren’t you nosy?” you’re quick to reply.

You say it as a joke, but immediately wish you could take it back. What were you thinking?! You didn’t know Sirius enough to joke around with him like that! You didn’t know him at all! Hell, you’d just spilled your drink all over him, for all you know the guy hates you!

You spin around, ready to apologize, but then Sirius is laughing, and you nearly let out a massive sigh of relief.

“Uh-” your apology catches in your throat for a moment but you quickly recover. “Sorry, I-”

“No, it’s okay.” He shakes his head. “You’re right, nosy is my middle name,” he tells you with a shrug and a lopsided grin.

You find yourself smiling back. “Sirius Nosy Black, huh?”

He hums. “Rolls right off the tongue, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, definitely.”

It’s silent for a moment as you both look at each other. Your thoughts leave you a bit as you get distracted by that strange way that he’s looking at you, but then you remember with a jolt that Sirius Black is in your dorm, shirt stained lavender and dripping ‘Robin’s Brew’ onto the floor.

“Um!” You scramble towards the bathroom and yank a random towel off the rack. “Here,” You toss it and Sirius catches it with one hand.

“You can, um...” You trail off but then realize you’re still standing in the doorway, effectively blocking his entrance. “Oh!” You quickly move out of the way, leaving a clear path for Sirius.

“Thanks,” he says with a slight laugh before disappearing into the bathroom.

Once the door closes you’re left alone, idly shuffling around, not really knowing what to do now.

This was horrible. All of this was horrible. You’re alone in your dorm with a man you’ve just met - sure he’s friends with Remus and James, but that doesn’t mean it’s not awkward!

You have to focus. You have to avoid any more tense silences. What would you say when he got out of the bathroom?

You suppose he did laugh at your quip earlier - he’d even added a little joke of his own. You’d gone back and forth a bit. It was easy to converse once you’d gotten started. But getting started was exactly the issue... You needed a good topic. Why can’t you think of a good topic?!

The door to the bathroom opens up and out walks Sirius, leather jacket now slung over his forearm and white shirt drier, but still equally stained.

You panic.

“Hey, do you like motorbikes?” You blurt out, and then have to resist the urge to hurl yourself out the window.

Sirius’s eyes widen and he opens and closes his mouth a few times, looking like a stunned fish, before saying “Motorbikes?”

You purse your lips. “Yeah, I was...” You shrug, trying to play off your very strange, very targeted question as just casual conversation. “I was just wondering... I dunno...” you say, leaning against one of your bedposts.

Sirius breaks out into a smile. “I have a motorbike.”

“Really! No way!” you exclaim, pretending to be shocked. Although you didn’t really know Sirius owned a motorbike, it wasn’t all that surprising considering what April had told you just a few hours ago.

Sirius’s eyes narrow slightly, looking at you as if he’s trying very hard to figure you out. “Yeah... I’m fixing it up right now...” he tells you, still grinning.

“Oh? Is it broken?”

He tilts his head back and forth a few times and then says “Not exactly.”

You cross your arms. “Then why are you fixing it up?” you challenge.

Sirius just rolls his eyes. “Well I’d argue that anything that can’t fly can definitely be improved.”

That startles a laugh out of you. “You’re gonna get your motorbike to fly?”

“Laugh it up now!” Sirius nods as you bring a hand to your lips, stifling your giggles. “No one’ll be laughing once I finish my flying motorbike!”

“Oh, I’d love to see it in action.”

“Sure, I’ll take you on a ride once it’s done,” he tells you, voice genuine.

That shuts you up. All of a sudden you find that you have no witty response. Apparently out of all the things that could have rendered you silent, the prospect of going on a ride on Sirius Black’s flying motorbike seems to have done the trick.

Sirius notices.

“I mean- If you want.” he quickly says, raising a hand. “I mean- Sorry. I know we just met, and I made you spill your drink, and I think I stained your towel with whatever that drink was - sorry about that too - but I-”

“Hey,” you cut him off, giving him a pointed but lighthearted look.

He gazes back expectantly.

“I’d love to,” you assure him, and he grins.

You don’t even remember what you were so nervous about. This was easy. Talking to Sirius was so easy once you got into a rhythm.

So you did.

You talked for a while, and when you got tired of standing you laid down on your bed, face down, head resting in your hands and legs kicking behind you as Sirius sat cross legged on your trunk in front of you. You talked about possible spells and modifications for Sirius’s motorbike, you bonded about all the times James and Remus had tried to get the two of you together, you even just talked about whatever nonsense came to your heads.

You were still talking (now both sitting on your bed) when the door creaked open, letting in April and Robin. April was asleep and Robin was carrying her bridal style. You notice they’re both barefoot, but Robin only has April’s shoes in hand - hers were probably somewhere in the common room.

“Oh, hey,” you say in a hushed tone, not wanting to wake April.

“Hey,” Robin responds, though she’s not quite as cautious with her volume as you.

Earlier today you’d have thought Robin would’ve freaked out the moment she saw Sirius, but if she cares about him being in the dorm, she doesn’t show it.

“She fell asleep on the couch. Thought I should leave her here,” the blonde explains as she pads over to April’s bed. She drops the shoes on the ground and then pauses to look at you. “Do you mind?” she questions, nodding her head towards the bed.

You quickly get up, striding over to April’s bed and pulling back the blankets.

“Thanks,” Robin murmurs as she gently sets the raven haired girl down.

You pull the covers up again and April stirs a bit but doesn’t wake up.

Robin finally acknowledges Sirius. “Hi,” she waves with a smile. Sirius smiles back. “Sorry, I didn’t-”

“No, it’s fine. We were just talking,” you assure her, and she nods a bit before turning her attention back to April, gazing down at her with a slight furrow to her brow.

“Where’s Bea?” you voice, curious.

“Went off with her Hufflepuff, I expect.”

“Mm. Is the party over?”

“Quiet get-together.” Robin corrects you without a second thought and you laugh lightly, sitting back down on your bed beside Sirius. “And yeah. I’m gonna go try to clean up a bit,” she says, sounding like the prefect she is.

You watch as Robin hesitates over April for a bit, smoothing the blankets over, brushing stray hairs from the sleeping girl’s face. It’s as if she wants to take care of her but isn’t sure how. In the end, she gives you a smile, bids a polite ‘goodbye’ to Sirius, and then exits quietly.

“We never went and found James and Remus,” you turn to look at Sirius once the door closes and he grins.

“I don’t think they ever expected us to.”

“You’re probably right.”

April stirs again and you get up to close the curtains of her four-poster.

“I should go help Robin,” you tell Sirius, and he takes the cue quickly standing up.

“Right. Sorry I kept you up.“

“No, it was fun. Sorry I spilled my drink on you.”

“No, it was fun,” Sirius echoes, and you give him a slight shove.

The two of you walk across the room and out of the door in comfortable silence, and once you’re in the corridor you speak up.

“So, hypothetically,” you start.

“Uh-huh,” Sirius assents immediately.

“If you wanted to... I don’t know... Have breakfast with me tomorrow...”

“Oh?”

“How would you go about that?”

“Hypothetically?” Sirius raises an eyebrow, as if double checking.

“Of course,” you nod.

“Well in this completely made up scenario,” he starts, “I’d probably meet you here at seven and walk you down to the Great Hall.”

You fight a smile. “Well, great.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah. Hypothetically I’d definitely be ready by then.”

“Perfect.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

You’ve reached the door that leads out of the common room by now, and you open it up, leaning against the frame. The rest of the castle is dark as it’s well past midnight, and you can hear the quiet sounds of nearby portraits snoring. You’d be worried about him getting caught, but with all the pranks the Marauders have pulled throughout the years, you know for a fact that Sirius Black had plenty of experience sneaking about the castle after curfew.

You watch as he lights his wand with a quick ‘Lumos’ and starts to walk off, but then he hesitates.

“What?” you voice as he turns around, walking back towards you.

He stops right in front of you, looking at you very intensely, scrutinizing every inch of your face. For a brief moment you expect him to lean in and kiss you, but then he speaks.

“I know you brought up motorbikes on purpose. That girl April takes muggle studies with me, and she-”

You quickly shut the door in his face and press your back against it, eyes wide and smiling despite yourself.

You scurry off to help Robin and a few others clean up, spirits high with the promise of having breakfast with Sirius tomorrow morning.

And who knows, maybe by tomorrow he’ll forget all about the motorbike thing. At least, you hope he does.

(He doesn’t.)

.

.

Bonus, the next morning:

“There they are!” James exclaims as you and Sirius approach the table.

“Did he live up to your expectations?” Remus asks you pointedly as you sit down, and you poke your tongue out at him in response.

And then you shrug. “I’ve gotta say, right off the bat I wasn’t impressed.”

“You’re the one who spilled your drink all over me. My poor new shirt! Ruined!”

“Oh, boo hoo. Where will you ever find another plain, white T-shirt?”

“It had sentimental value!”

“And now it has a cute new design! So you’re welcome.”

“You want me to thank you for a stain?”

“It’s a fun souvenir from your first time in a non Gryffindor common room.”

“I should write on it. Big letters: ‘I went to Ravenclaw Tower and all I got was this lousy stained shirt.’”

“At least the stain is purple, it looked nice. Suits you.”

“Are you saying I look good in purple?”

“Sure.”

“So you’re saying I look good?”

“I- I didn’t-” you stammer, and then groan.

“Ah-ha!” Sirius points a finger at you. “Outwitted by a Gryffindor! If only Rowena Ravenclaw could see you now.”

Across the table, Remus and James watch on in dismay.

“Are you already regretting getting them together or is it just me?” James voices.

In response Remus sighs, “Oh, it’s not just you.”

.

.

.

(hey ps for the sake of my sanity let’s just pretend there was no easy simple drying spell they could’ve used)

also: about robin & april

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taglist <3 // @isxfisticated @l-adysansa @tomshollandz

[mycrofts-gunbrella]

Caring is the Greatest Advantage (Mycroft Holmes x Reader) Part 4

A/N- Hoping this one has come out a bit happier than the last instalment! I’m trying my best to not write Mycroft too out of character and focusing on how much more emotion he had displayed in season 4.. I have a few more chapters planned out so far and I am hoping to, at the very least, update weekly! I hope you all enjoy this chapter and, please, don’t forget to leave a comment letting me know what you think! Kind words or constructive criticism are always welcomed and inspire me to write more! Thank you!

Word Count: 4416

"Did you fancy doing anything else today? Well, this evening I suppose suits better." You asked Mycroft, clearing up the plates from dinner. Dinner here being a term used loosely- after the emotional turmoil only a few hours ago at the revelation of both yesterday's events and your inner attractions, neither of you particularly felt like cooking, or eating for that matter, and settled on a sandwich just to provide some energy.

The energy of the room had felt different now, now that everything was in the open, now that the pair of you had finally broken that barrier to move further in your relationship. It was nice, calming. The pair of you weren't children, the confirmation of shared attraction didn't mean you immediately jumped each other, or feel the need to be constantly touching in some aspect or another- but the mere idea of knowing that the attraction between you was mutual, and that you wanted to act upon that was more than enough for now. It felt incredible.

"Mmm, what did you have in mind?" He hummed back, standing from the small table in the kitchen to help you with the washing up- not that you weren't fully capable of doing so yourself, it just felt nice acting a little domestic- electing to wash the dishes himself and leaving you to dry them and put them back in the cupboard. You shrugged, closing the cupboard's door and leaning against the counter.

"St James' is just round the corner isn't it? We could go for a walk? The weather is oddly nice for September." You suggested, grinning as you watched Mycroft look down at his current attire of jogging bottoms and a band t-shirt. You didn't need the power of a Holmes to know what that face meant. "Compromise. You don't have to wear the joggers in public, but you also cannot wear a suit, I swore against it."

"If you're suggesting for me to leave my home in my undergarments you've completely lost your mind." You looked at Mycroft and allowed his brain to think a little more. "Oh bugger you can't mean-"

"You and I both know you have a pair of jeans in your wardrobe Myc. Joggers or Jeans, the choice is yours." Mycroft opened and closed his mouth multiple times before rolling his eyes and muttering something under his breath that sounded Latin. "Oi at least have the decency to do it in French so I have a chance of understanding what you say when you swear at me." You quipped, jokingly throwing two fingers up at him as he gave in and sulked up the stairs.

"Tu seras la mort de moi." His voice was still quiet, but loud enough for you to understand him.

"Et pourtant tu serais perdu sans moi." You shouted back, teasing a little. Mycroft didn't answer but smiled to himself as he walked into his bedroom, agreeing with you completely but too high in his pride to admit it. Downstairs, you rummaged through the other bags from Anthea, feeling thankful as you saw that she had equally bought you some hoodies too, pulling on a maroon one before grabbing and sliding on your boots. A few minutes later you heard Mycroft's voice from upstairs, muffled completely excluding the 'goodbye' that sounded as he left the bedroom and made his way down the stairs. "Planning my arrest were you? Should I be expected to enter the park to MI6 agents dragging me into a car and shipping me off somewhere for forcing the British government into denim?" You turned around and saw him in his change of attire, whistling approvingly at the sight of him in the dark grey pair of jeans you had bought him a few years ago- 'because you cannot walk into a pub wearing anything purchased on Savile Row, Mycroft'- and the navy blue blazer he had chosen to match with them; the small evidence of The Who's logo peeking out slightly between the lapels. It was seldom Mycroft wore such casual clothing, but feeling welcomed by your reaction certainly made him more comfortable. Maybe at some point you'd tell him it's because those jeans make his bum look incredible. Mycroft's cheeks flushed and he shook his head, ignoring the noise of encouragement you had made.

"MI5, actually, but do not be too alarmed- I've insisted they only use force if absolutely necessary." He teased, hoisting his scarf from the coat rack by the front door and expertly wrapping it around his neck. You jabbed him lightly in the arm, knowing he was joking but equally wanting to make sure the phone call wasn't from Sherlock already pestering him about something or another. "It's fine, truly. Nothing to cause government upset.. only public." You went to question what he meant but was instead caught off guard by him eyeing you up. "Are you really going out.. in that?" Mycroft gestured to your clothing and for a brief moment you felt a little insecure, frowning slightly at him. He caught on immediately and apologised. "No- I mean.. You will likely get cold, will you not? A hooded sweatshirt isn't the warmest item of clothing I can offer you." You grinned at his concern and just passed him his beloved umbrella (it wasn't raining, but that didn't make a difference) before opening the front door.

"Myc I have pulled bodies out of the River Thames wearing nothing more than a pencil skirt and a blouse, I will be fine." You grabbed his hand and tugged him outside, shutting the door behind him. He wanted to argue back but he knew any attempt would be futile- you both knew that you could be more stubborn than Mycroft and so he didn't wish to cause harm on what could be a splendid evening. You took your normal position beside Mycroft, your hand resting in the crook of his elbow, while his rested in his pocket, the other holding onto his umbrella handle. The chill of London's air brushed the back of your neck, leading you to pull the hood of your jumper over your head before continuing your walk, not allowing Mycroft to have the pleasure of knowing he was right. but also not missing the smirk that tugged at his lips as he noticed- of course he bloody did.

The short walk to the park was in a comfortable silence. Mycroft found himself thinking over today's events, how even he couldn't have predicted that this would be how it would end. He was certain you would have left earlier, he'd even prepared himself for the chances of a punch to his nose in anger, and so never in his right mind did he expect you to stay, let alone embrace him while he cried, forgive him for the unforgivable, to... kiss him. He felt childish thinking back on it, but he kept replaying that moment over in his mind. It wasn't a proper kiss, it was barely there at all, and yet, if Mycroft thought hard enough he could still feel the light pressure of your lips on his, and it left him eager for more.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Your voice distracted him as you walked down the final street before the park. He blinked, looking down at you, at your joint arms and offering a smile.

"Just that I didn't expect today to happen the way that events turned out." You opened your mouth to make a comment about how Mycroft knew everything but he cut you off. "I deduce, I cannot predict the future, Y/N."

"But you can mind read?" He raised his other hand, one finger to his mouth in a 'shhh' motion and you grinned.

"Penny for yours?" You hummed in response as you looked at yourself in the reflection of a car window and pouted, rounding the corner to walk through the park's gates.

"I look like an egg." Mycroft let out a rare laugh, caught off guard by your answer. "That you do, my dear. But a rather beautiful egg." It was your turn to flush now. Getting any form of compliment from Mycroft Holmes was a rarity, and when they did come to surface they were usually on one's intellectual skills, or the times where you'd go out to a fancy restaurant and he would claim 'your dress' was beautiful, but never you directly. Your lack of response made Mycroft nervous and he spoke again. "Apologies, upon reflection that was a very backhanded compliment." You squeezed his arm and nudged yourself in closer, welcoming in the warmth his body was emitting.

"No no, I am incredibly flattered to be deemed a beautiful egg." You laughed. "It would make a lovely epitaph don't you thi-." He tensed. "Yeah, sorry, bit soon." You continued your walk for a little further before something clicked in your mind and you stopped in your tracks. Mycroft stumbled a little at the sudden cease in movement and shot you a confused glare. "Myc.. There's nobody else here."

"Excellent observation, Y/N. I now understand why you're so well respected down the Yard."

"Git. I meant.. we're in one of the most tourist centred parts of London, in the early evening, and there's nobody here." Mycroft raised his nose a little in the air, a movement witnessed by anybody else that would be mistaken for smugness, or being pretentious. But on Mycroft you knew it meant he felt a little embarrassed, raising his head ever so higher so you couldn't see the dusting of red on his cheeks. "The phone call... Mycroft bloody Holmes did you abuse your power as a government official to rent out the entirety of St James' park so that nobody would have to see you in your jeans?" He avoided your gaze and you began to laugh, removing your hand from his arm as you wiped a tear that spilled down your cheek out of amusement before tugging him over to a bench that was a few feet away.

"Should I not have?" His tone was light, relaxed knowing that you weren't mad with him and that you found the situation entertaining.

"It's not that.. It's just that nobody else WOULD." You rubbed your numbing fingers together and tucked them inside the sleeve of your hoodie. "You. Are an extraordinary man, Mr Holmes. You never cease to amaze me." He smiled softly, tentatively reaching over to take your half sleeve covered hand into his own pale one.

"And you, are freezing." He commented. You dismissed his assessment and instead focused on the view in front of you, the slight appearance of the London Eye poking above some trees from across the Thames.

"After living here for so long, sometimes I forget how beautiful London truly is." You spoke, shuffling the rest of your hand from your sleeve to lace your fingers between his. He hummed in agreement as he watched on. "And you stole this view from thousands of visitors this evening for the sake of your own dignity and so we could be alone. What do you have? People guarding every entrance? A few loitering around somewhere to make sure there were no stragglers? Christ are they armed? It just so.. so.." Mycroft felt himself become uncomfortable.

"I can be a very selfish person Y/N, you know that."

"I was going to say sexy but now I feel as though I'm not being as sympathetic to the tourists as you were expecting me to be." Mycroft tensed again and you leant to rest your head on his shoulder. "You should probably try to get used to that. I've been waiting a fairly long time to actively be allowed to say things like that to you and it not sound really weird, so I'm making up for lost time."

"How long?" His voice was quiet, likely his mind recovering from you, for the second time that day, calling him such a thing. It wasn't that he didn't like it, he was extremely flattered, but he just found it very hard to believe that you truly thought that way about him; that anyone could. You thought for a moment, childishly using your fingers to count.

"How long since I realised I had a thing for you? As of today it's been 5 years, 3 months and 17 days.. or, in less creepy terms to not make it seem like I've been counting, 2 weeks before I broke up with Thomas. It didn't feel fair to keep dragging him along, especially when I started to look forward to meeting you for dinner much more than I did meeting him for our weekly date night. He's a lovely guy and deserved more than that. I tried for those couple of weeks to get over it but I couldn't." Mycroft stayed silent but you could practically hear his brain whirring. "How long did I wish that you somehow felt the same way about me? Probably 5 minutes after the last thought." You laughed, feeling ridiculous for sounding like a school girl with a crush. "What about you? Pining after me for long or just spontaneously after I kissed you?" You joked, trying to make the whole ordeal feel a little less embarrassing. Mycroft shifted in his seat, laying his focus in the warmth that he could feel spreading to your hand that he held in his. He wasn't the type for large exclamations of emotion, or really speaking about the way he feels at all. But, upon hearing your revelation, he bit the bullet and spoke.

"I have never been the kind of man to experience typical human emotion. Until yourself and Gregory came along, I hadn't even the experience of having acquaintances, let alone.. friends." His eyes stayed forward, watching as the London Eye rotated slowly and focusing on its movements. "Approximately 6 months prior to the time you have mentioned, I began to realise that the way I felt towards you was far different to the way I felt about Gregory, and not the same way I feel towards Sherlock. I pressed the thought into the back of my mind for the better part of a year, before Sherlock told me that you were 'obviously' experiencing some kind of affection towards me, which I told him was preposterous, but from then the thought of you in that aspect felt welcoming. I had never expected in my life to have those kinds of emotions for anybody, let alone have them reciprocated, but I still chose to ignore them. I chose to keep you as my friend rather than risk losing you at all.. Then Eurus happened. Seeing you on that.. screen. Knowing what they could do.. Knowing I could lose you anyway.. it flicked something inside of my brain that made me regret not talking to you about it sooner. I was trying to work out the right way to bring it up, but then you did it for me." The side of his mouth flicked up into a small smile and disappeared, the embarrassment of talking so much on emotion taking over.

"You still look cute when you're embarrassed." You commented, not wanting to elaborate on his wordings more. It meant everything to you that he had even said that much, so you weren't going to push him further out of his comfort zone by pestering on. "Though as much as I'd love to look at your little flustered cheeks in this moonlight, I have to admit that you were right and I am bloody freezing, can we go back?" You took your hand back from his briefly to rub against your other one, a feeble attempt to bring warmth back into your fingertips. Though warmth soon enveloped round your neck as you felt Mycroft begin to wrap his cashmere scarf around you, folding and wrapping it expertly until you felt comfortably warm, taking a moment to breathe in the scent of his cologne that loitered in the fabric.

"I'm always right." He grinned smugly, standing from the bench and offering his elbow out to you once more. You nudged it away, missing the disappointed look on Mycroft's face, before instead grabbing his hand, lacing your fingers between his and tucking them into his pocket for warmth, your other arm folding over your body to hold his arm.

"I'll prove you wrong on that at some point, mark my words." You beamed, starting the walk back to Queen Anne's Gate and relishing in the warmth of the taller man beside you. Mycroft couldn't hide the small smile that appeared on his face from your action, choosing himself to push closer and close the gap between you even more. He swiftly pulled his phone from his pocket, leaving his umbrella dangling from his wrist, as he made a quick call to Anthea.

"I suppose we better let the tourists have their park back.. at least for now." He spoke, more to you than to Anthea but nonetheless she relayed the message to security who began to pack up and reopen the gates to the public. It had barely been a minute before they had all left, all except the PA in question who watched on fondly upon seeing the pair of you leaving, fighting the urge to text the man that it was about damn time.

***

The walk back was incredibly quick and you soon found yourselves walking back through the front door, discarding layers of warmer clothing, Mycroft opting to put the sweats back on in place of his jeans.

"I'm thinking we have a cuppa and then head to bed? I'm knackered." You proposed, flicking the kettle on and settling back to rest on the edge of the kitchen counter. Mycroft hummed in agreement, reaching to grab the necessities. You quickly kicked off from the counter and wandered back into the front room, pulling Mycroft in tow. "Seems as good a time as any to have some music on, Greg made me this mixtape a few weeks ago. He said it's some classics I already love, and a bunch that I'm going to, so it sounds pretty promising." From behind you Mycroft opened his mouth to speak but you cut him off. "If you're about to chastise me for calling a CD a mixtape, don't waste your breath. Mix-CD just sounds horrendous." He stayed silent, inwardly amused at the fact you hadn't even seen his face and yet knew exactly what he was going to say, and you called him the 'mind-reader'. The Kinks began to play quietly through the speakers, 'Have a Cuppa Tea' fittingly being the first song to play on shuffle. Usually you despised any type of mixtape, or 'best of' albums, claiming rather strongly that they defeated the point of artists bringing out the original albums, ruining the story behind each one. But when it came to Greg you trusted him completely with music taste and had never been disappointed thus far. The click of the kettle in the kitchen sounded, making you walk into the other room and prepare your drinks- you hadn't bothered asking Mycroft the way he had it, you had that burnt to memory years ago. Perching back onto the sofa besides Mycroft, you handed him the beverage and sighed in content.

"You missed the Sex Pistols. Forgive me if I cannot hear you for the next 20 minutes, I have a feeling that my ears have bled." He teased, taking a sip of his tea and settling it on the table beside him. Before you had a chance to answer, another Kinks song began to sound in the room, the slower rythm of Waterloo Sunset.

"You're going to pay for saying those things, you know I love the Sex Pistols." You pouted, moving your own tea to the coffee table. "I think, Mr Holmes, you need to dance with me in ways of apology." You grinned, standing up and holding your hand out to him. "It's a rare slower song from Lestrade's musical repertoire so I'm not expecting you to start headbanging or anything.."

"Do people slow dance to Rock music normally?" He asked, smiling.

"No they don't.. but when have you ever been a man who follows the rules of normality?" He took your hand at that, standing himself up and leading you to an emptier part of the room, tea forgotten. You softly placed your hands on his shoulders and rested your head on his chest, his reaching round to settle on the small of your back as you began to sway together slowly, the only sound that could be heard was the music and Mycroft's erratic heartbeat that he was sure meant he was going to have a heart attack. "See, this is nice." He hummed in agreement, the vibrations of his deep voice reaching his chest and vibrating against your cheek. "We could have done this years ago.." You commented, thinking on all the lost time you had with Mycroft, all of the years you had listened to music together and could have danced, holding each other as close as you were now.

"We'd have struggled being as Gregory only gave you this CD a few weeks ago.." You laughed and swatted his shoulder.

"You know what I mean.. oh the power of cowardice and fear." You closed your eyes, holding onto this moment as though you had never wanted it to end. Alas, the song began to come to a close, and yet neither of you made an attempt to move. The instrumental introduction to your favourite Clash song began to play and you grinned. "Now this is a song. I'm surprised Greg put it on here, I'd have thought he'd be sick of it by now with the amount of times I play it at work." As the vocals began you felt Mycroft stiffen in your arms, the fingers on the hands on your back began to dig into your skin slightly, not painful, but protective and his heartbeat picked up pace even more.

"Could we skip this one? Please?" His tone of voice was different this time, not the calm, relaxed voice that he had earlier, nor the playful one he had only moments ago. He sounded.. unsettled.

"You're joking right? Mycroft this relationship will have a rocky start if you force me to turn of The Clash at all, let alone bloody 'Death or Glory.'" He tensed again hearing the song's title.

"Please.. it's the one.." Your brain began to piece together his words and you lifted your head from its position on his chest, looking up and seeing the pained expression on his face. Of course, out of every song in the world, this was the one you were listening to when Mycroft said he saw you on the screen, inches away from death. You closed your eyes and sighed.

"I'm not letting this happen. I'm okay, I'm here, alive. This is my happy song, and I have so many wonderful memories from it." It wasn't a lie. The sound held memories of countless car rides with Greg, it was the song that played when you had the phone call about your promotion at work. It had even been playing when your sister phoned up to let you know that she was pregnant with your niece. Both times. It was a bloody good song. "I understand why you don't like it, but you just need to associate it with something better, give it a new memory." You moved your arms from his shoulders to wrap around his neck, shifting one hand to place onto his cheek as you reached yourself up on your tiptoes to become closer to his height.

You caught his focus, making his eyes land on your own rather than being dazed as his mind went back to you dancing on that screen. You leaned yourself in closer, just enough for your lips to ghost over his own, before closing the gap. Unlike the last peck you had given him, this was a far more passionate kiss, giving him the emotion you had kept pent up for the last five years. His grip on your back softened, one hand reaching to your upper back to push you closer to him, his lips moving against yours beautifully. His body began to relax, the tension in his shoulders disappeared as he leant himself forward, easing you back flat on your feet. Had you have not known any better, you would have never guessed that Mycroft had never kissed somebody before; he was just a bloody quick learner. You ran your tongue along his bottom lip softly, grinning as he let out a quiet moan. The need for air soon took over and you allowed yourself to separate, not moving any further than leaving your foreheads touching. "There. Now when we hear it, that's what you need to think of instead. Christ knows I will be." You laughed, your hands guiding themselves from his neck slowly down his chest and pushing him back slightly. "I'm going to go shower, so meet me upstairs? I know I promised more Hardy but I would really like to go to sleep if it's all the same to you." Mycroft only nodded, feeling you peck his lips once more before disappearing out of the room. The song had finished by now, having been replaced by who Mycroft believed were The Rolling Stones, but he wasn't really listening.

He stood still in his spot, mind replaying over the moment as he smiled fondly to himself. He could hear the shower running upstairs along with your voice, muffled but clear enough to understand that you were still singing along to the last song. Placing his fingers against his lips, Mycroft tried to imitate the pressure you had placed on them moments ago, thinking about how your lips felt against his, properly this time, not just the two second thing on the sofa this morning. His chest felt warm, stomach flipping and in a rare moment Mycroft felt genuinely happy. In all his life up to this moment, caring had never been an advantage, had always led to him getting hurt. But maybe, just maybe, you were right about how you were going to prove him wrong one day. And he hoped to whatever sentient being that may or not be watching over him that you were going to prove him wrong about that.

[the-witty-pen-name]

Can’t Help Falling in Love

Loki x Reader (f) 

Valentine’s Day with the God of Mischief 

Based on suggestion by: @squadleaderchase​

A/N: Thank you so much for the suggestion! I loved writing this, it was so much fun! 

Happy Valentine’s Day y’all!

There is also a gender neutral version of this fic, and will be posted shortly after this one! Read it here! 

I recommend to putting on Can’t Help Falling in Love by Elvis towards the end just for that finishing touch! 

Summary: When Loki learns about the traditions of Valentine’s Day, he asks you to be his Valentine- and reluctantly takes advice from Steve Rogers. 

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: none; just fluff 

“Can’t Midgardians have a holiday that doesn’t involve such a grotesque display of… red?” Loki asks walking into the living room of the Avengers compound. Loki arrived at the compound a few weeks before Christmas and so far, he’s experienced two Earth holidays: Christmas and New Year’s. Of course, Tony had picked the theme for both parties to be elaborately red and gold- he claimed the fact that it matched his suit was merely a coincidence.

“Just wait until next month,” you reply casually, your eyes not leaving the brief you were reading while you sat cozied up in one of the large armchairs. “I think you’ll like St. Patrick’s Day much more… color scheme wise at least.”

Loki looked up curiously at the hearts of all shades of red and pink Natasha had hung up to decorate the Avengers’ living quarters. She had gone to visit Clint’s family and his kids spent hours making Valentines and decorations out of construction paper and glitter. Loki looked almost puzzled at the lopsided hearts that hung from the ceiling on transparent line so they looked like they floated mid-air.

“Perhaps I might,” he mumbled to himself, the lovesick aura of his surroundings making him slightly disgusted. “Though I suppose I find your rituals as bizarre as you’d find on Asgard.”

“Mhmm,” you mumbled in response to his thinking out loud. It was rare that the compound would be this quiet. It was a Friday evening and in the middle of a team meeting earlier today, Tony declared exhaustedly that everyone needs to start the weekend early and dismissed everyone despite Steve’s protests. You weren’t sure where everyone else went and you didn’t particularly care- enjoying the rare peace and quiet.

You didn’t mind Loki’s company. He was a little aloof but overall, you found him more to be misunderstood than anything else. He wasn’t like Thor and sure, he had a very trouble ridden past to downplay it- but he’s confided in you all it wasn’t entirely his doing. Out of everyone living at the compound, he probably had grown the closest to you, or as close as Loki would allow himself to be to someone.

“What even is this holiday?” Loki asked, pulling his attention from the decorations to where you sat, binder in your lap. You looked up and closed the brief, tossing it onto the coffee table in front of where you sat.

“Sunday is Valentine’s Day,” you say looking back over to him, meeting his eyes. “I mean overtime the traditions and how we celebrate have changed but it’s originally the day meant to honor St. Valentine and commemorate his death. There’s a lot more to it than that and there’s all different of different origins, but now it’s more like a day where you celebrate love, because he was the patron Saint of Love.”

Loki nods, liking the idea of this holiday much more than New Years already. He didn’t mind Christmas, but the elaborate parties made everything not very appealing to him. You can’t blame the god for not having a good time at parties where every guest fears him or hates him. He walks over and takes a seat on the couch and crosses his legs. He was intrigued enough to continue the conversation and ask you more questions. “What are the traditions?” He asks curiously.

“Traditionally, you would ask someone to be your Valentine, and that’s the person you want to spend the day with,” you answer with a small shrug, trying to explain a holiday you’ve never had to explain before. “Some people have it easy and they ask their significant other, and if you don’t have one, you ask someone you’re romantically interested in to be your Valentine. Then you give each other gifts, like chocolates or flowers, anything really that’s romantic and you go out on a date, like a nice dinner but it doesn’t have to be. That’s the basic gist.”

“Thank you, (y/n),” Loki said, mulling over your explanation. “You’ve been helpful, as always. Tell me, who’s your Valentine?”

“I don’t have one,” you answered honestly. The only time you really celebrated was when you had been with someone. You’d never really participated otherwise. You planned to just spend the night alone or with Nat if she also didn’t have plans and probably watch a movie- most definitely Pride and Prejudice.

“Shame,” Loki said with a tsk. “Perhaps, if you would be interested, you could be my Valentine?”

“Really?” you ask, honestly surprised.

“I actually like the idea of the day,” Loki shrugged. “And I don’t know many people, people seem to hate me on this planet- no idea as to why. You’ve always been kind to me, and you are the most tolerable person I’ve encountered on this planet.”

“That’s oddly very kind of you,” you say with a chuckle. “I appreciate the sentiments. Um, yes. I’d be happy to be your Valentine.”

“Excellent,” he grinned. He clapped his hands together and stood up. “Splendid. I’ll ask Thor to help me plan something.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” you smile, picking up your paperwork again as Loki heads off to find his brother.

***

“Brother,” Thor’s voice echoed in the training room. “Spar with me?”

“As much as I would love to,” Loki said sarcastically, “I need your help with something I need to plan.” Loki walked over to the side of the mat where Thor had been training with Captain Rogers.

“Plan what?” Captain Rogers asked curiously. It was an innocent enough question but Loki took it as Rogers insinuating his distrust in him. Of course, Loki can’t blame the man but it did rub him the wrong way.

“If you must know Captain Rogers, I’m making plans for this upcoming Valentine’s Day,” Loki said matter-of-factly. “I’m sure since you have quite the active love life recently, your words of wisdom are probably of infinite value.”

“You can learn a thing or two from me,” Steve retorted as he put the punching bag beck into place. “But I don’t like your attitude.”

“I don’t know how I’ll ever manage without you,” Loki scoffed. He turned his attention back to his brother. “I need help to determine where I should take (y/n) and what I should get her.”

“(y/n) agreed to this?” Thor asks, his eyebrows raised in confusion. Rogers kept his mouth shut, deciding to see where this conversation will go before

“Yes, brother. I asked her to be my Valentine as stated by tradition and she said yes.”

“Ah! Good for you, brother!” Thor exclaimed, happily. “I’m glad you’re immersing yourself in the Midgard culture.”

“Yes, yes,” Loki waved him off, “Now, please, tell me what I should do.”

“I’ve never celebrated Valentine’s Day,” Thor says with a shrug and a sympathetic look. “I haven’t had much opportunity to explore the culture. Every time I’m on this planet I’m a little busy preventing its destruction. Perhaps Rogers can help you?”

Loki let out an exasperated sigh. He avoided Rogers as he knew the man had such a smug look on his face. Loki refused to give him the satisfaction. However, he realized that wouldn’t be fair to you. Rogers not only knew what to do, but he was also close friends with you. He quickly realized if he wanted to celebrate with you properly, he’d need to rely on the infamous super soldier.

“Captain Rogers,” Loki said with a charismatic smile, turning back to the man. “I wholeheartedly apologize for my lack of… social niceties. If you’d be willing to help me, to ensure your dear friend enjoys her holiday, I would be sincerely grateful.”

“Only because of (y/n),” Rogers says skeptically, waving a finger at Loki. “She deserves to enjoy her time and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I let you screw up her evening.”

“What a loyal friend.”

Years later, the Avengers would still talk about the fact Loki cared about you so much, he sought out advice from Captain America and Thor. And as Captain America said, he helped Loki with every last detail and Steve never let Loki forget it.

***

Loki had told you that he’d come to your room to get you at 6 o’clock Sunday evening. He wore clothes he had picked out, black dress pants, a white button-down shirt and shiny, black dress shoes. He had kept the last button of the shirt unbuttoned and he had rolled the sleeves up, a styling tip he had gotten from Thor. He had his long hair gelled back and tamed, ignoring Captain Roger’s horrible suggestion for a haircut. He felt very weird not wearing any green, but he took the advice he was given on his ensemble.

You were just putting on your heels when he knocked at your door Sunday promptly at 6pm. Of course, Loki would be very punctual. You gave yourself one more quick once more in the mirror in your room before heading to answer the door.

You had on a pair of dark green heels that perfectly matched your dress. You also layered over the outfit a suede brown jacket, that complimented the jewel tone of the dress and shoes nicely. You kept your appearance simple, sticking to how you usually styled your hair. Not wanting to keep him waiting, you quickly opened the door, your jacket and bag both in hand.

“Wow,” you say with a grin, when you take in Loki’s appearance. “You look very nice.”

“You look stunning,” Loki said, his eyes widening, taking in your appearance. The compliment made you have butterflies.

“Thank you,” you said with false confidence. Underneath, you were a nervous wreck as you took the arm that he extended to you.

“So,” Loki began to walk down the hallway with you. “Apparently, this planet has something called reservations, and anyone who tries to get one a few days before Valentine’s Day is a “moron,” according to a very rude young man I had the pleasure of speaking with- the first time using a phone too on top of that. So, I hope you don’t mind if the evening is a little… makeshift.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great,” you reassure him. You feel him relax slightly. You found how hard he was trying so endearing.

Where else did he bring you but just down the hall to the living room. At night with the lights dimmed, combined with Natasha’s homemade decorations, it actually looked quite beautiful. He had decorated with an eclectic array of candles as well that covered most surfaces of the room. It also looked like he had swiped every throw pillow in the whole compound and had them arranged the coffee table in the center of the room.

“Did you do all of this?” You ask in awe.

“Yes,” he replied, just watching you. “Do you like it?”

“It’s perfect.”

“I had to make my own version of advice I received,” he disclosed to you. You sat opposite each other on either side of the coffee table, you kicked off your heels and he did the same with his shoes. “Captain Rogers said- and I’m trying my best to quote verbatim, ‘You need to show a girl a good time. You gotta take her to dinner and dancing.’” He even mimicked Steve’s voice perfectly. It made you laugh.

“I can’t believe you subjected yourself to Steve for me, I’m touched,” you smiled. “I mean I love Steve,” you continue, “But I can’t imagine you too being best friends anytime soon.”

“No, I suppose we probably won’t be,” Loki chuckles.

“I hate to point it out,” you continue, “but I think you missed both the dinner part and the dancing part of that plan.” Loki smirked and when you blinked, he transformed the whole room.

“Did I?” he asks, with an eyebrow raised. You gasp, looking around the room you were now in. You knew it was an illusion, but it felt very real. The atmosphere, the breeze coming in from the large bay windows that weren’t there before. The coffee table now a table now one of many dining tables in an incredibly high-end restaurant. The table had food, and a bottle of wine. You were stunned. There was a live band and other couples in other tables and out on the dancefloor.

“Loki?” You exclaimed, looking around at your new surroundings. It was amazing. You couldn’t believe the magic right before your eyes. Of course, you knew it was just one of his tricks, but it felt so incredibly real. You picked up your fork and took a bite of the food in front of you. It was incredible, you questioned if you were even eating.

“It’s real,” Loki said, like he could read your mind. Honestly, he had only just anticipated your next question. “I made it. Well, I made it with Friday’s supervision.”

“It’s fantastic! I can’t believe you went through all this trouble just for me.”

“Sweetheart, you are very much worth it- worth much more than this,” he responded casually, throwing in the term of endearment to see how you’d react. He caught the way it made you smile.

You continued to talk for a little while, and shared stories. You were worried that compared to his life on Asgard, he’d find your stories incredibly boring and mundane. It seemed to be the opposite. His attention was only on you and he held on to every word you said. He created this elaborate setting just to keep you the center of his attention.

“Should we dance?” He asks suddenly, a glimmer in his eye. You looked down apprehensively.

“I’m not really a dancer,” you tried to insist.

“Do you actually not want to dance, darling? Because if so, I will not bring it up again,” he says earnestly, “But, if you’re saying no because you’re afraid I’m going to judge you, I honestly can promise you I would never dream of doing so.”

You give it another moment to ponder over his words. You were taken aback at how well he seemed to know how you were thinking. You let out a sigh of defeat, and smile. “I’d love to,” you reply.

He stands up and offers you his hand. His smile is enough to make you weak at the knees. You take his hand and he leads you over to the dancefloor as the band starts playing its next song. “Does that singer sound like Elvis?” You ask, the small glitch in the illusion throwing you off for only a moment.

“I don’t know who that is,” Loki says with a laugh. He pulls you in close and rests one hand on the small of your back and the other grasps your hand close. You wrap your other arm around his shoulder. You are both pressed up incredibly close to one another. You rest your head on his chest comfortably, and you can’t see how much the action makes his whole face go red. Guiding your movements together, it mostly just swaying in place. The steps were small, and with the music playing for the two of you.

“This place is incredible,” you sigh happily looking up at him. “But I think I liked the first place a little better.”

He nodded in agreement and you got to watch a green hue encompass the walls of the restaurant as they almost melted away, and everything around the two of you just fade away. The sconces on the walls, revealed themselves to be the candles that cluttered the living room and the couples evaporated with the green mist. The table you had both sat at, turned back to the coffee table but the empty plates remained. The elaborate statues that surrounded the room turned into the furniture you knew well, and then the live band faded away to reveal Steve’s record player indeed playing a 45 of Can’t Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley.

When the room finished revealing its true appearance to you, you laid your head back on Loki’s chest and mumbled that now it was perfect. He smiled to himself, thinking about how without a doubt in his mind, Valentine’s Day is his absolute favorite holiday on Midgard. He now couldn’t believe this reality was real. If he wasn’t holding you, he’d pinch himself. You were here, with him, in his arms, dancing in the middle of the living room on this godforsaken planet.

“(y/n)?” he whispered softly as the song was coming to an end.

“Mhmm?” You responded, your eyes closed, really just basking in the feeling of being so close to him and the smell of his cologne.

“Will be mine?” He asks carefully, remembering the phrase from Captain Roger’s advice. That phrase apparently being very important if today went well and he wanted to ask you to “go steady.” You chuckled softly, hearing Steve’s influence in the phrase.

“I would love to,” you say with a shy smile looking back up to him. He beams, incredibly happy you said yes. Swept up in his emotions, he swiftly leans down and presses his lips to yours capturing them in a passionate first kiss.

“Oh gross!” You hear someone exclaim, making you both pull away. It’s Tony- who was currently holding his side in pain as Pepper elbowed him in the side.

“You really had to do that?” she chastised him, rolling her eyes and giving an apologetic look to you and Loki before pushing Tony down the hallway to give you both your moment back, as sullied as it had become thanks to Tony.

“I’m so sorry,” she said embarrassed by his outburst, ushering him out as quickly as possible.

Loki turns his head back to you, immediately after they are out of view. “Where were we, darling?” He smirks, pulling you in for another kiss.

[blueeyedgeorgie]

Wide Awake-Dream Was Taken

A/N: Here’s Pt. 2 bitches. I hope you all enjoy ! Also, please go support and follow @notphilosopherstudentblog​ because she helped me out with this because she’s so intelligent. <3

Btw Title is based off Katy Perry’s song Wide Awake

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 3.5k+

_________

It was early. Too early for Y/n to be crying. But her she was, sitting in bed, clinging to one of Clay's old shirts. In the past, it was normal for her to steal a couple of his belongings. It was typical of Y/n to invite herself into his closet, taking whatever she wanted to wear, whenever she wanted. But now it just felt wrong.

There were only a few items left Y/n had that were his. She never washed this shirt, she had only worn it once. She could still remember the day she stole it.

"Y/n, you've got to be kidding," Clay turned in his desk chair. She had just walked out of his closet wearing an oversized grey t-shirt. "You're seriously going to leave me with five pieces of clothing."

She shot him a playful look, taking a moment to admire herself in the nearest mirror. "I'm sorry Mr. 15 million subscribers. You can always buy more clothes with all that money."

"Fine... it looks better on you anyway."

She had spent the rest of the day in his shirt. And by the end of the day, the scent of his laundry detergent was strong. For an odd reason, the t-shirt had spent weeks in the back of Y/n's closet, untouched. At least, until this morning.

All night she was toss and turning. It seemed impossible for her to get a moment of sleep, her mind had been racing. The only reason she wasn't able to sleep was because of one person; Clay. Their fight had played over and over again in her mind.

'But Y/n, I really do love you.'

There were so many different ways the night could've ended. But it was her fault it ended how it did. If only she hadn't asked for him to step out of the stupid restaurant with her. She didn't need to make a scene, but she still did. This was all her fault.

The sound of her phone buzzing had pulled Y/n away from the piece of fabric in her hands. Looking down at her nightstand, she glanced at the electronic. Wilbur was calling. With a sigh, hesitantly she reached for the phone.

"Hey, Y/n."

"Morning, Wilbur."

The brunette bit his lip at the sound of her voice. He could tell she had a rough night. "Are you doing alright?"

"I'm..." she paused, looking down at the shirt in her lap. "Yeah, I'm doing better."

"That's good to hear," For some odd reason, he was pacing. It wasn't normal for him to pace back and forth. He was already dressed for the day, wearing a set of brown pants with a creme button-up shirt. A pair of glasses rested on his face as he spoke. "George and I were hoping to go get some breakfast. Do you think you could show us somewhere good?"

"Yeah, I'm up for breakfast. What about Nick and Clay?" If Clay was coming, she didn't know what she'd do. There would be tension, but maybe she could find a way to patch everything up between them.

"Nick's going over to Clay's. They wanna have a bit of time together."

"Oh, okay... when do you guys wanna meet up?"

"Maybe 30 minutes to an hour?"

"An hour it is."

Before preparing to go out, Y/n had texted Wilbur a location point to meet up. It was a nice restaurant located in town, it had always been one of her favorite places to eat. George and Wilbur had gotten a table outside, it was nice out for a day in Flordia.

"Do you think she's gonna do it?"

Wilbur glanced across the table to George, "Honestly, probably not." He let out a sigh, " hope she agrees. I really do. But it's gonna be hard for her to let go. I just think it'd be better if they got some time away from each other."

"You're right. As good of friends they are, they need a break from each other." They both knew it wasn't a good idea for Y/n to stay in Flordia at the moment, she needed a moment away from Clay. So Wilbur had come up with an idea to get Y/n to take a break.

"What do you think of Elise?" Changing the subject, George leaned back in his chair. It was rare for Clay's girlfriend to come up in conversation. She seemed like such a touchy subject in the group. She was definitely a sweetheart, but it seemed like she appeared out of nowhere. The group had been planning future Dream SMP roleplay on a Discord call. It had been so brief when Clay mentioned her. 'Hey guys, I just wanted to mention I started dating somebody.' It was smart of George to hold his tongue because of what else Clay had to say. 'Her name is Elise and she's 19.'

Most of the group had expected Clay and Y/n to end up together. They were best friends who lived in the same town. There was constant flirting going on between them. And not to mention Y/n had always been there to support Clay through the bad and good.

"Hey, guys!"

Both of the British men were pulled out of their thoughts by the sound of her voice. Y/n was quick to take a seat by Wilbur. "Have we ordered yet?"

"No actually, we've been waiting for you." George fixed his posture, his classic grin appeared on his face. "Got any recommendations for drinks?"

"My go-to has to be a mimosa and the eggs benedict."

The knock came as a surprise, but there were a lot of surprises happening this morning. Clay had woken up earlier than usual. Naturally, he'd get up around 9 or 10, but today he woke at 7. He couldn't go to bed for a few more hours, his mind wouldn't quit racing with thoughts. He had ended up skipping breakfast, he wasn't hungry today. It was normal for him to eat something, he always woke up starved. The early knock was the cherry on top of the cake of the surprises happening today.

"Hey Nick, what are you doing here?" Clay glanced behind his friend, looking for any sign of the rest of his friends. Originally, they had planned to meet up later that afternoon at his place. "I thought you were coming by at noon?"

Nick stood on the porch, burying his hands into the pockets of his jeans. It was early in the morning, yet it was already warm outside. "Yeah, sorry I didn't ask if I could come by earlier. I just wanted some time alone with you."

"Cool, make yourself at home," Stepping aside, the blonde opened the door a bit wider for his friend. "Sorry it's a bit messy, I was planning to clean up before you guys showed up."

The pair had made their way to Clay's living room. It was nice, but still a bit messy just as he said. As the blonde began to pick up after himself, the pair had a bit of small banter.

"Is Elise gonna come by this afternoon?" Nick watched as Clay picked up a couple of items sitting on the coffee table.

"Uh, no. I think she had work today."

"Oh, what about Y/n?"

Clay tensed, pausing for a second. She had been on his mind a lot since the last time he saw her. The way she looked at him... it hurt. It felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest. This morning she was all he could think of. He missed her good morning texts, the way she'd update him about little situations happening in her schedule, when she would randomly face time him just to say: 'I wanted to see your stupid face because I missed it.'

"I... she's not coming."

"Why's that?"

"You know why, Nick." Clay let out a sigh, taking a seat on the couch. He didn't know what he could do, he was the one who messed everything up. If he tried to apologize, he might even piss Y/n off even more. She had always been a hardass about being hurt or betrayed, it was hard for her to give people a second chance. "I don't even think she knows we're all planning to meet up later today."

"Dude... it's weird seeing you two like this. It feels wrong." The two friends looked at one another, it seemed like Nick could tell exactly what Clay was thinking. 'It is wrong.'

"I miss her. But I was also the one who fucked everything up by ignoring her for weeks."

"Why'd you even do that?"

"Because I fell in love with her. I was scared she didn't feel the same. So I distanced myself and looked for someone to start a relationship with.  That's why I met Elise."

"Clay... you're an idiot."

"I know."

Turning, Wilbur looked at Y/n. She was halfway finished with her meal. Everything was going great, she seemed so happy just to be able to talk with two friends. It seemed like the best time to spring the idea on her.

"Hey, Y/n?"

"Yes, Wilbur?"

He bit his lip, glancing at the man sitting on the other side of the table. George gave a brief nod, knowing what was going to happen next. "George and I had an idea we'd like to share with you."

"What is it?"

"You know how you've been talking about how you've always wanted to visit us in London?"

"Yeah..."

Wilbur paused, looking back at George for a second. "Well, we were thinking... I have a free room in my place. Why don't you spend one of two months with me just to see how you like London?"

Y/n's face lit up. "That sounds great, Wilbur. I... wow. That sounds so fun!" She paused, her smile disappeared. "But what about my house? I can't just abandon it for a month."

Wilbur bit his lip, 'Shit.'

"Clay can stop by once a week, just to make sure everything's fine. I'm positive he'll do it for you," George was quick to jump into the conversation. As soon as he mentioned Clay, Wilbur shot him a look. Y/n tensed at the sound of his name.

"Listen Y/n, you don't have to do it. Just keep the idea in mind, you can give me an answer before George and I leave."

"Okay..." Y/n bit her lip, looking at her food. She knew the only right answer was yes, but it was going to be hard to talk to Clay about this. "I think... I think I wanna do this. I wanna go with you guys."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, but... just give me some time to think it over."

"We're always here for you, Y/n. No pressure." Wilbur placed a hand on Y/n's. He wanted her to come to London, everything would be better. He cared a lot about Y/n, he really did. He just wanted to see her happy.

"I just want her to be happy," Clay let out a sigh, opening the refrigerator door. His eyes skimmed over what there was, he had gone grocery shopping the other day to plan for today. He still wasn't hungry.

"Everything's gonna get-" Nick paused, he was interrupted by the sound of Clay's phone ringing. There was a moment of silence as the blonde closed the refrigerator, approaching his phone on the kitchen counter.

"It's Y/n."

"What?"

"Do I pick it up?" Clay glanced at his friend.

"yes, yes, yes! Do it!"

Clay was quick to pick up the phone, putting it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Hey, Clay."

"Hey, Y/n."

"Do you..." she paused, "Do you have a moment to talk?"

"Yeah, I can talk." Clay leaned against the counter, listening to her intently. It had only been a few days, but he missed her voice. He could tell she was down.

"I know this seems like the wrong time to be asking for favors and everything, considering everything that has happened this last week. But... I need your help with something." She paused again. He could tell she was hesitating, as though something was keeping her back. "I think I'm gonna be gone for a while. And I just need someone to check up with my house every couple of days. Could you do that? It's fine if you don't want to, it was a stupid idea of me to ask you anyways-"

"No, yeah. Of course, I'll check up on your house for you, Y/n." He was quick to cut her off. The last thing he wanted was for her to think she couldn't turn to him for help anymore. "And it's not stupid of you to ask me. I'll always be here if you need something or need help."

She scoffed, "You weren't there for me these past few weeks." She stopped herself again for the third time. "I'm sorry, that was really bitchy of me."

"I deserved it," he could only chuckle. Y/n was still herself. "But yeah, is there anything else you need... or want to talk about?"

"I... no. No, that's it. I guess I'll talk to you... eventually."

"Alright," Clay fought back the urge to let out a disappointed sigh. "I'll see you." Without saying goodbye, she hung up the phone. He didn't know what to expect next, he wasn't even sure whether this was a step in the right direction or not.

Staring at the box, Y/n felt herself tear up for the hundredth time this week. This was going to be a hard task to complete, but it was going to help her let go.

Walking around the house, Y/n picked up item by item. Anything that belonged to Clay was going in the box.  A few t-shirts, a couple of CDs she stole, one of his coffee cups. Y/n wasn't even sure how the cup had gotten to her house, but she knew it belonged to Clay. All of her coffee cups matched, all the same color and shape. But... this one cup had shown up in her pantry one day. Every time Clay had spent the night, he'd start the morning off with a cup of coffee, only using that cup.

At this point, Y/n was picking up items that held too strong memories of him. The box had quickly filled, it felt strange. It seemed like she had just lost a chunk of her house. Of her life. This needed to happen. This was the only way they'd be able to keep their friendship.

Y/n had agreed to come to London with Wilbur, she was finally fully on board. Two suitcases sat by her front door as she waited for Wilbur and George to arrive. She would only be in Florida for a few more hours, she needed to give this box back to him. Maybe she could just say screw it, leave it here under her bed, hidden away. So when she'd return she'd be comforted by his shirts and hoodies, she'd listen to his songs and cry.

No. She couldn't do that. If she did that she wouldn't be letting go of everything. Y/n needed closure, it'd be the best for them both and she knew it. Pulling her out of her thoughts, Y/n heard a knock on her door. It was time.

"Morning, Y/n."

"Morning, Wilbur." Y/n smiled, embracing her friend in a hug as soon as she opened the door.

"George is in the car. We got coffee too." Wilbur looked down at her, his arms still wrapped around her waist, holding her close. "You're positive you want to do this?"

"Yes, I need to."

"Alright, then. I'll support you with whatever decision you make." He finally stepped aside, moving to grab her suitcases. Y/n grabbed the box, she had moved it into the hallway before greeting Wilbur. With one more glance, she looked down her hallway before closing the door. As soon as her home was locked up, Y/n had dropped her keys into the box. This was going to be the final step before London. Giving it all back.

George and Y/n greeted each other, Y/n giving him a quick hug before entering the car. The rest of the time, the car ride was quiet. There was obviously going to be tension. On their way, Y/n kept thinking to herself about what she was going to say. What if she fucked it all up? What if they broke out into another fight?

"Here we are."

Y/n sucked in a breath, looking over at the familiar house. This was the final step.

"Y/n, do you need either of us to walk up with you?" Wilbur spoke, he noticed the way she looked at the house.

She shook her head. "No, I got this..." Stepping out of the car, there were only a few words she'd repeat to herself. 'This is the final step. This is the final step. This is the final step.' It felt like it took forever for her to reach his porch.

As soon as she was face to face with the wooden door, she was quick to hit the doorbell. She just wanted to get this over with, fast. A few moments passed, and just as she reached to hit the doorbell again, she stepped back. The door was opening.

"Y/n?" Clay yawned, his hair was a mess. It was obvious she had just woken him up. "What are you-"

"It's time for me to go now. I'm sorry for waking you up. Here are my keys and a few of your items in case you wanted them while I was-"

"Woah, woah, woah." He interrupted her, rubbing his eyes. "Slow down, you're talking fast. You're leaving? Right now?"

"I..." she sighed. "Yeah, I am."

"And this..." he looked down at the box in her hands. "They're all mine?"

"Yeah, that's kinda the whole point." She gave him a look, "Considering the box says your name."

"Alright... thank you," he nodded, carefully picking the box up from her. "How long are you gonna be gone?"

"I'm not sure. I just know I have to go."

"Why?"

"Because of us, Clay. It'd be better for both of us. We need time apart. We have so much going on in each other's lives. I just need a break."

He watched her, she looked close to tears. Without thinking, Clay pulled his friend into his embrace, holding her close. "I understand. Take as much time as you need. I'll be here."

"Thank you."

The hug was short, Y/n was the first to pull away. As soon as it was over, she muttered a quick goodbye, hurrying back to the car. When the car door shut, Wilbur was quick to jump to asking questions.

"Are you okay? Do you need anything? You're completely sure you want to do this?"

"I'm fine, Wilbur."

"Alright, I just wanted to check." Wilbur paused, looking out the window. "Y/n, would you mind if George and I said our goodbyes to Clay?"

"Go ahead, I'm not the boss of you."

Sitting in the car alone, Y/n got a moment to catch her breath and stop the tears from forming. She did it. She completed the final step. She could do whatever she wanted now. The moment alone in the car felt short, George and Wilbur were back in the car in what felt like seconds. Only, Wilbur sat in the back with Y/n, George driving by himself.

"You ready, Y/n?"

"More than anything." Y/n looked at Wilbur, the way he smiled at her just felt... good. Looking down, she noticed Wilbur gently grabbing her hand in his. She smiled, things were going to start getting good for her, she knew it.

"Wow okay, now I just feel like a driver for you two." George shot a dirty look in the mirror.

"A bad driver," Y/n grinned at her friend. "Start moving, Mr. colorblind." "If I get a ticket for running a red light, I'm blaming you."

With a yawn, Y/n opened her eyes. She had another good night of sleep, it had been weeks since she had a bad night of sleep. For eight months, she had lived in London. At this point, her house in Flordia was sold to a family of three, and she was no longer flatmates with Wilbur. Instead, she was his girlfriend.

Turning over, she faced the beautiful brunette. He was still asleep. She owed him everything. She was now an influencer because of him, he had helped her set up her YouTube channel and introduced her to the fans. He thought it'd be a good job for her, considering how she was a social butterfly and carry conversations.

Clay and Y/n didn't interact as much as they use to. They'd interact on the Dream SMP and over social media. But it was rare for them to speak in private. The only way their relationship got better was by them distancing themselves. What was a beautiful friendship had turned into an acquaintanceship. Clay was still dating Elise, but it seemed like things weren't going the best and there were signs of him planning to break up with her soon.

Wilbur peeked an eye open, looking at his girlfriend. "Morning, Y/n."

"Morning, Wilbur."

Y/n smiled, she knew she was right. Everything got better for her. After all, When the rain ends, there will always be a rainbow.

[earliebirb]

for better or for worse

My dearest friend Alle ( @iam93percentstardust​ ) sent me this prompt a lifetime ago. I’m sorry for taking such a long time, but this fic turned into a 5K fic (which is longer than anything I usually write) because my brain kept giving me Ideas. Alle, I know this is probably not what you expected, but I hope you enjoy reading it anyway.

for better or for worse

steve/tony, au: no powers, hurt/comfort, getting back together, 5815 words

(54 from this list)

Tony wakes to the sensation of his head pounding and his ears ringing. He groans, stirring on the bed and burying his face into the nearest pillow. 

The ringing persists and Tony squeezes his eyes shut, willing the noise to go away and—

Oh. That ringing is his doorbell. Someone is ringing his doorbell. 

Tony sighs, glancing at the clock on his nightstand before groaning again when he realizes that it’s ten minutes to seven. In the morning. What kind of lunatic is visiting him at this hour?

He gives himself a couple more seconds to stay on the bed, cursing his own self for being awake. For a brief moment, he is tempted to just ignore whoever is standing on his porch in the hopes of making them eventually go away. 

The doorbell rings again and he lets out another long sigh. Slowly, he sits up on the bed and immediately regrets the decision to do so as all his muscles start aching all over, the kind of all-encompassing pain he only gets throughout his body when he is really, really sick. He feels like crying from the pain. 

The second he hears the sound of the front door being unlocked, however, he instantly freezes. His blood runs cold, adrenaline numbing his pain for the moment, his senses alert in shock.

Quietly, he gets to his feet, heart pounding in his chest. God, this is the worst time to fight off an intruder. Not that there is ever a great time to have someone illegally entering your home, but it’s early in the morning, and he’s sick, and alone, and—

“Steve?” 

Steve jumps, turning to face him with his blue eyes wide in surprise. Either Tony is sicker than he thought or Steve is really standing right there, a few steps away from the front door, frozen like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Tony. I’m— Sorry. I tried calling you but I think your phone is dead, and I tried ringing the doorbell but—”

Oh. It really is Steve. With the threat of imminent danger gone, immense relief and pain ambush his senses simultaneously.

“—you didn’t answer the door, so I used my key. I’m so sorry. I know it’s really early in the morning, but I was about to leave for a meeting and I tried to do a final check of the blueprint of the exhibition only to find the file corrupted. The only other copy I have of it is the hard copy I had left here, so I—”

Tony’s knees feel weak. He frowns as he squints, because why are there two Steves in front of him? 

“—panicked and I drove all the way— Tony?”

Tony tries to take a step forward, but he wobbles unsteadily. The floor is moving, and the walls are spinning, and oh wow look at the ceiling—

“Tony!”

***

When Tony comes to, his ears come around before the rest of his senses. 

His eyes are still shut. As he slips in and out of slumber, he manages to catch snippets of someone’s voice in the distance. 

“...Yeah, um, I’m actually calling to let you know that I won’t be able to make it to the meeting today…”

“...I know, I know. I’m sorry. I’d leave if I could, but I can’t…”

“...Family emergency. We’ll just have to postpone the meeting, or I can just send scans of the blueprint via email, and have Peggy handle everything…”

“...Okay. Just give me a call and let me know…”

Everything is silent for a while. When Tony’s eyes eventually blink open, he finds himself back in his bed, his body tucked under the covers. The door of his bedroom is ajar and Tony stares at it uncomprehendingly, his brain still struggling to make sense of his current situation.

As if to answer the questions floating around in his brain, the door opens inwards and in walks Steve, a glass of water in hand. He pauses when he sees Tony staring back at him. 

“Oh, you’re awake. Good.” Steve smiles. He pads over and sits down on the edge of the bed, setting the glass of water down on the nightstand. He cups Tony’s elbow carefully. “How are you feeling?”

Tony blinks. So that wasn’t a dream? Steve is really here. 

“Why are you here?” Tony croaks. Steve’s face does something complicated at that before eventually settling with another smile, soft and reassuring.

“Don’t worry about that right now. How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” Tony answers honestly, sniffing and grimacing at his unpleasantly congested nose. The lopsided smile Steve gives him sends a wave of longing so strong, it feels like a kick to his heart.

“I figured,” Steve says, voice hushed. He opens his mouth to say something else, but his phone rings right that instant. Steve fishes the phone out of his pocket and holds it up to his ear.

“Hello? It has to be today? Okay, don’t panic. It’s going to be okay. I know, I know. I told you, I can’t. I really, really can’t.” For some reason, Steve’s gaze flits briefly to Tony at this before drifting away. “I told you, Peggy knows the blueprint inside and out. We’ll just have to leave it up to her. Tell the rest of the team I’m sorry, okay? Uh-huh. Right. If we get a second meeting, I’ll join you guys then. Okay. Mm-hm. Alright. Thanks a lot, Sam. Bye.”

“Do you have to get to a meeting?” Tony asks as he watches Steve slip his phone back into his pocket. 

“Are you warm enough? Do you need more blankets?” Steve asks, eyebrows furrowed in concern as he assesses Tony’s condition.

“No, I’m fine,” Tony says, runny nose turning his voice nasally. He sniffs a few times. “You didn’t answer my question. Do you have a meeting today?”

Instead of answering Tony’s question, Steve leans towards the nightstand to grab some tissues and proceeds to hold them under Tony’s nose.

“Blow.”

Tony leans back with a scowl, putting some distance between him and the tissues. “Steve, seriously, do you have a meeting? You don’t have to—”

“Blow your nose, Tony,” Steve says firmly. He stares at Tony, gaze unwavering.

Tony sighs before doing as instructed. He blows into the tissues until his nose feels relatively clear. Something stirs in his chest at the way Steve takes all of it in stride, not showing even an inkling of disgust at Tony’s sweaty and snotty state.

Then again, he supposes that’s the kind of immunity you develop after two years of marriage.

Would be three in a few months, if they didn’t—

Well. It’s probably for the best, right?

It has been a month since Steve moved out and his foolish heart still refuses to relinquish the sliver of hope that maybe—

Tony closes his eyes.

The fight they had had been of massive proportions, the biggest to date in their relationship, and when Steve suggested that they take a break—Tony still wonders if he was sparing Tony’s heart by avoiding the word “divorce”—Tony quietly agreed to it, no matter how much he hated the idea. Steve ended up moving back to his old apartment, an hour away. 

He didn’t want to imprison Steve in the house—in the relationship—if he didn’t want to be with Tony. 

After all, Tony can only keep Steve for as long as he wishes to be kept. 

“Go to the meeting, Steve.” Tony watches as Steve continues to dab at his nose with the ball of tissues, his hand careful and gentle. Even after blowing his nose, his voice still sounds nasally. “It’s not as bad as it looks. I’m fine, I promise. You don’t have to stay.”

“Drink.” Steve hands him the glass of water, staring him down until he drinks the water. He downs the water in a few gulps under Steve’s watchful gaze. After he finishes, Steve takes the glass from him and sets it back on the nightstand. He glances at the clock, all the while ignoring Tony’s disapproving stare. “Have you taken any meds?”

“No. I thought I’d just sleep it off.”

Steve lets out a sigh, looking disappointed but not exactly surprised. He walks out of the bedroom before returning with a simple peanut butter sandwich and some pills. He gives out strict orders for Tony to have at least a few bites of the sandwich before taking the meds and then proceeds to clean up the pile of tissues scattered all around Tony, dumping them into the trash can. After that, he disappears into the ensuite bathroom for a moment. Tony hears the sink running.

By the time Steve emerges from the bathroom, Tony has eaten half of the sandwich and taken his meds dutifully. After confirming the evidence of Tony’s actions with his own two eyes, Steve looks satisfied.

“Okay. Go back to sleep.” 

Tony frowns. “I just woke up.” 

For a minute, Tony thinks that Steve is going to argue with him again, but he just hums and makes his way to the other side of the bed. He slips under the covers beside Tony and reaches for the TV remote.

“What movie do you want to watch?”

“Steve, please. You don’t have to do this. I know—”

“Sci-fi? Or do you want something lighter? A romcom, maybe?”

“—you have work to do, so—”

“You hate being alone when you’re sick,” Steve interrupts, eyes on the TV screen. “And you’re terrible at taking care of yourself, especially when you are sick. I know you, Tony. I know you’d just end up skipping meals throughout the day because you don’t have an appetite.”

Tony pauses. Steve is still staring at the TV, but he is no longer scrolling through the list of available movies.

“You’re… not wrong,” Tony allows, “but you really don’t have to.”

“Why didn’t you call me? I would’ve come earlier if I’d known.”

“What— Of course I didn’t.” Tony shakes his head, incredulous. “After all, this doesn’t have to be your responsibility, considering we’re on a—” —break. 

The sentence is completed in his head, but Tony can’t seem to let the last word fall out of his mouth. Steve seems to hear it anyway, if the way his jaw clenches is any indication. 

Tony clears his throat and breathes through the persistent pounding in his head, inhaling through his mouth. 

“Just go, okay? I’ll be fine, Steve, I prom—”

“I won’t be.”

“What?”

Steve finally turns to face him and takes a few long seconds before meeting his eyes, blue eyes tired and resigned.

“I’m the one who won’t be fine, leaving you here all sick and alone.” Steve’s mouth twists into a small smile, wan and bittersweet. “I won’t be able to stop worrying. Won’t be able to work, or go about my day, or…”

A beat. Steve inhales a tremulous breath, blue eyes wavering as they hold Tony’s gaze. “Won’t be able to stop thinking about you.”

Steve looks down at his own lap, fingers grabbing a fistful of the comforter. Silence stretches out between them. Sitting quietly like this, Tony can almost pretend that nothing has happened, that this is just another normal day of Steve waking up in bed next to him. Married and in love with no threat of divorce looming on the horizon.

Of course, that is before he catches sight of Steve’s bereft ring finger.

Then his heart leaps to his throat and he feels his stomach dropping like a rapidly sinking anchor. He wonders how long it has been since Steve’s ring finger is empty.

He wonders if he should start taking off his own, too. He wonders if Steve wants him to take it off. He feels a visceral pain in his chest just at the mere thought of the ring leaving his own finger, a sharp twinge that has nothing to do with him being sick.

Steve swallows audibly. “Just because we’re on a… break, it doesn’t mean I stop caring about you, Tony.”

Tony clenches his jaw and finds himself wondering if Steve would continue to care about him if they ended up separating for good.

He doesn’t ever want to find out the answer to that question. His eyes dart down to Steve’s ring finger again and he has to inhale to keep his nausea at bay. 

Steve takes a deep breath before turning to face Tony again. Although he is facing him, this time Steve’s eyes are nowhere close to meeting Tony’s, lingering somewhere in the vicinity of Tony’s chest instead. The bright blue of his eyes has become muted, something heavy and wistful diluting its luminescence.

“So you’re right. You’ll be fine without me, but I won’t be. So please, let me stay.” Steve’s eyes flit down to the bed, lightning quick, and the moment they flit back up, he does meet Tony’s eyes. “For my sake.”

Tony swallows, feeling like a hefty weight is sitting on his chest, suffocating him. He has to look away to catch his breath. 

Staring at the TV screen, he says, “Love Actually.”

Steve recognizes the acquiescence for what it is, and turns to the screen, smiling. 

“Love Actually it is.”

They lie quietly in bed, side by side. Despite being sick, Tony feels content in a way he hasn’t been in a long time. He ends up falling asleep somewhere during Colin Firth’s character's awkward meet-cute with a lovely Portuguese woman.

***

Hours later, he wakes up to an empty bed. 

Steve didn’t stay.

He blinks quietly and tries to swallow down his disappointment. It’s a good thing, he tells himself. Steve is busy enough as it is, of course he’d leave after making sure Tony is okay. 

The first thing he realizes when he sits up on the bed is the fact that he feels a lot better than he did in the morning. His nose is still congested and the dull throbbing in his head is still there, but at least his muscles and joints don’t ache as much anymore.

His mouth tastes like something has died inside of it, though, so he makes his way to the door, intending to grab himself a glass of water, and—

Steve is still here. 

He is dressed in something more comfortable now, having exchanged his long-sleeved, form-fitting shirt for one of his own sleep shirts and his jeans for a pair of sweatpants. When Steve moved out of the house, he hadn’t managed to take all of his clothes with him.

Tony would probably never admit this even on pain of death, but he is grateful for that. There have been many nights—most nights—since Steve moved out where he would sleep in one of Steve’s sweaters or shirts. They are all too big for him, but they make him feel safe and comfortable enough to fall asleep because the truth is he has been finding it near impossible to fall asleep without the warmth of Steve’s body pressed up against him. 

Steve is standing by the stove, his back to Tony, stirring a pot of something that is bubbling away nicely.

A stray piece of memory floats into Tony’s head, unbidden. It presses at the corners of his mind, demanding his attention. It is a recollection of a defining moment of their relationship, dated sometime during their first year of marriage. 

Tony had been doing something similar, trudging out of the bedroom one morning and finding Steve in the kitchen instead of at work, where he should be.

At Tony’s perplexity, a fond smile had bloomed on Steve’s face. Tony remembers that it had been snowing outside. Bathed in the late morning sunlight and clad in a cozy-looking, broken white cable-knit sweater that complimented his blond hair beautifully, Steve’s figure had glowed golden.

Behind him, eerily similar to today, there was also a pot of something steaming sitting on the stove and a delicious smell had wafted around the house. 

“Don’t be silly, sweetheart. Of course I’m going to stay in and take care of you. Look at you, you can barely stand up straight.”

Tony had blinked and realized that he had been leaning on the bedroom’s door frame for support. “Don’t you have that meeting today? With that… that British man. The gallery owner.”

“Rescheduled meetings are a thing, sweetheart. It’s not the end of the world,” Steve had said, chuckling lightly as he padded over to tuck his arms around Tony’s waist. “Besides, if Merridew does turn out to be an unreasonable man, there are plenty of other galleries in the world.”

Steve had said it so easily, so dismissively, as if it hadn’t taken years of hard work and months of careful persuasion for him to even get to the point he was at. 

“You, however,” Steve then whispered, voice low and sweet as he cradled Tony’s cheeks in his warm hands, eyes staring softly into Tony’s, “I have to take care of. After all, there’s only one Tony Stark-Rogers in the world. Well— The only Tony Stark-Rogers I care about more than anything.”

Tony had made an incredulous face in response, still finding the whole situation ridiculous.

Steve had laughed at Tony’s expression and leaned in to plant a kiss on Tony’s temple, uncaring of the fact that Tony was sick and gross, carrying an abundance of infectious germs.

“I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if my beloved husband succumbed to his sickness in the dead of winter due to my callousness,” Steve had said as he pulled Tony close, body pressed flush against him, chin resting atop Tony’s head. “In sickness and in health, sweetheart. In sickness and in health.”

“...Tony?”

Steve’s voice calling his name promptly breaks Tony’s reverie. Tony blinks and finds Steve gazing at him, eyebrows furrowed with concern.

“Did you need anything?” 

For a few seconds, Tony finds it difficult to form an answer, part of his mind still lost in the memory of the past. Eventually, he manages. “I— Uh. Water.”

“Oh.” Steve proceeds to pull out a glass from the kitchen cabinet and pours Tony some water. He walks over, handing it to Tony. As Tony’s fingers close around the glass, Steve steps closer and presses his palm to Tony’s forehead. His lips press together in a thin line. Tony swallows audibly.

A few strands of Tony’s hair cling to his forehead, damp with perspiration. Using the same hand, Steve sweeps Tony’s hair back, simultaneously wiping the beads of sweat away. 

“Go back to bed. I’ll be there in a minute. Soup’s almost ready.”

Dazed, Tony nods before heading back to the bed as instructed. 

Steve shoulders the ajar door open a few moments later, carrying a tray with a bowl of steaming soup sitting on it. Quietly, Tony watches his every move. Steve bends down to put the tray on the nightstand, slow and careful. As he does, the pendant of Steve’s necklace—one that Tony has never seen before and just realized Steve’s been wearing this entire time—slips out from beneath his shirt, dangling back and forth from the golden chain hanging from his neck. Curious, Tony leans forward slightly. He squints at the pendant.

When he realizes what it is, his mouth goes dry.

Steve straightens and takes a seat on the edge of the bed. Now that the pendant is properly resting atop Steve’s chest, there is no mistaking what it is.

From a short distance away, Tony still recognizes the inscription that peeks out from the inner surface of the ring, the words written in his own blocky handwriting: To My Beloved.

Tony stares at it, frozen. A million thoughts are running through his head and it feels like he can’t hold onto any of them. Try as he might, he can’t seem to form a coherent thought. 

Steve had taken off his wedding ring, only to wear it as a necklace. 

What could this possibly mean?

“—ony. Tony?”

His train of thoughts broken, Tony blinks and finds Steve staring at him. One of his hands is already hovering midair, holding out a spoonful of soup. The other is situated right under the spoon in case of spillage. 

“You okay?”

“Uh—Yeah. Sorry.”

Steve continues to stare expectantly at Tony. Tony stares back at him and finds himself wishing he could read Steve’s mind.

Misunderstanding his silence for something else entirely, Steve raises the spoonful of soup slightly with an encouraging nod. “Don’t worry. I blew on it, so it’s not scalding hot, I promise.”

Just to further prove his point, Steve blows on the spoon again, careful and gentle before holding it up to Tony’s mouth.

Tony opens his mouth quietly to let the spoon into his mouth and lets the warm soup soothe his taste buds and throat.

A companionable silence settles over them. As Steve feeds him the soup until the very last drop, Tony takes the time to process his own thoughts. 

When he comes to a decision, Steve is already back in the kitchen. Tony can hear him doing the dishes, the clink of glass and ceramic accompanied by the sound of running water. 

Once again, he makes his way to the doorway of the bedroom. For a brief moment, he stands wordlessly, watching Steve’s back muscles work as he wipes the utensils dry.

As Steve places the last of the utensils on the dish rack, Tony says:

“Let’s have a kid.”

Steve freezes. Tension turns the line of his back rigid as he grips the edge of the kitchen sink.

“Tony—”

“I’ve thought about it, Steve. Let’s have a kid.”

Tony watches Steve’s shoulders rise and fall as he breathes. When Steve turns around, his expression is not at all what Tony expects.

For someone who had tried so hard to convince Tony to adopt a child with him just a month ago, fighting tooth and nail and disagreeing with Tony on every point, Steve doesn’t look happy or relieved.

Instead, there is something heavy in his blue eyes, in the sharp line of his clenched jaw.

Something that looks like heartbreak.

“No, Tony.” 

Tony’s heart sinks. He can feel his throat closing up, finding it difficult to breathe. He has done it now. He had wondered whether they could come back from this. He had wondered whether this fight would be Steve’s last straw.

Here it is, the answer, clear as day in front of Tony. He had tried so hard to convince himself that this was different. Steve would stay, unlike so many others that he had scared away. This time, it would be different.

He had believed it, too. That’s the worst part. 

Tony proves to be too difficult to love, even for Steve. Sweet and generous Steve.

He should have known this would happen. He should never have let his guard down. He should have—

“Tony.” Tony looks up at the sound of his own name to find Steve standing much closer than before. “Sweetheart.”

Tony lets out a sharp exhale, fresh tears blurring his vision as a stab of unadulterated pain shoots through him at the term of endearment. He hasn’t heard that word from Steve’s mouth in an entire month and it’s not fair, so incredibly unfair that the first time he hears it again after such a long time is when Steve is trying to break things off with him. Steve, ever kind, ever gentle, even when he’s trying to—

“We don’t have to have children, Tony.”

Tony blinks, hot tears rolling down his cheeks. Steve stares back at him, his baby blues also brimming with tears.

“You don’t need to force yourself to become a father, if you really don’t want to, and especially not for my sake. I’ve thought about it too, Tony. And—”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Tony braces himself. Here it comes.

“—I realized that, as much as I want to be a father— As much as I want to adopt a child and raise them as my own… I realized that I really, really don’t want to do it with anyone else but you.”

Tony’s thoughts grind to a halt. When Steve exhales, it comes out in the form of a wet, desperate-sounding sob.

“I love you so much, Tony. So much. I love you more than— Anything. More than children. More than my desire to become a father. This past month we’ve been apart— It’s been hell, for me. We don’t have to have children, Tony. So, please, just— Can I come back? I’m sorry. I’m sorry for leaving, sweetheart, I’m so—”

Tony pulls him into a kiss. Steve tastes of tears, his body racked by sobs, and Tony’s heart breaks. A turmoil of emotions wreaks havoc within Tony and his knees are weak with the sheer relief of having been granted the privilege to have Steve in his arms again.

When they break apart, Steve’s shoulders rise and fall repeatedly in an attempt to catch his breath. He stares at Tony with wide and searching blue eyes, wet lashes clumped together. 

“Tony?”

Tony looks down, clears his throat. “Sorry, I shouldn't have done that. I’m sick, and now you’re going to be sick, and—”

Pulling Tony in by his shirt, Steve joins their mouths together once again, showing exactly how much he cares about that particular line of reasoning. He kisses Tony like he can’t get enough, like he’s trying to steal all of Tony’s breath from his lungs and keep it for himself. 

This time, when they pull apart, Steve’s lips are slick and swollen, his face flushed. He is still looking at Tony like Tony is going to vanish into thin air any second. 

“You’re staying. I’m staying. No one’s leaving.” Tony wipes his thumbs through the tear tracks on Steve’s cheeks. “Okay?”

“Okay.” Steve nods. “Okay.” 

Tony leans forward, resting his forehead against Steve’s. He closes his eyes, feeling the puff of Steve’s unsteady breath hit his own lips. He takes both of Steve’s hands in his, giving them a squeeze. 

He takes a deep breath.

“And we’re having a kid.”

Steve stills. “Tony, I told you—”

“And I told you that I’ve had some time to think about it, too.” Tony leans back to meet Steve’s eyes, hoping his own eyes would be enough to convey the truth of his sincerity. “I’ve thought about it, and… You’re right. I do want to have a kid, I’m just scared. Really scared.” 

Tony watches the bob of Steve’s throat as he swallows.

“You know how my dad was with me, and I’ve told you repeatedly how scared I am that I’ll turn out just like him. Children are like sponges, you know? Blank canvases. They internalize stuff really easily and then they end up having issues. And then their issues have issues. Case in point.”

Tony gestures to himself with a bitter smile.

“Truth is, I still don’t believe I’m father material. I want a kid, but I’m still terrified of fucking things up.” He swallows, pauses to gather his thoughts. “But Steve, I’ve seen how good you are with kids, you’re such a natural. And I thought about what you said to me, that I won’t be alone in this. I’ll have you standing right beside me, every step of the way. And… I’ve also thought about how you seem to have such faith in me. Faith that I can become a good father. And I thought, that has to count for something. Your faith in me has to count for something, because… you know me better than anyone, Steve. Sometimes I even think that you know me better than I know myself.”

Tony looks down at their joined hands, nodding decisively. 

“So, I’ve decided.” He looks up, watches hope bloom in Steve’s azure eyes. “Let’s have a kid. Let’s build a family together, Steve.” 

Steve’s smile, when it comes, is beautifully blinding. 

***

Later, as Steve lies beside him in bed, Tony finds the courage to ask.

“Steve?” Tony calls, voice a low whisper.

Steve is lying on his side, facing Tony. One of his elbows is planted on the bed, hand propping up the side of his own head as he gazes down at Tony, eyes lingering and thoughtful.

His other hand reaches towards Tony’s face, brushing the back of his knuckles across Tony’s cheek before traveling further back, tucking a lock of Tony’s unruly hair behind his ear.

“Yeah?” Steve says. The soft glow of the nightlight sitting on the nightstand casts shadows across his face and illuminates parts of it in yellow light. It renders the lines of his face soft, the edges less sharp and defined. 

Tony swallows and averts his gaze, takes a while to let the words form properly in his mouth. Meanwhile, Steve cards his fingers through Tony’s hair in a single motion, looking at the dark strands caught between his digits like they are the most fascinating thing in the world. 

“It’s longer,” Steve muses. 

“Yeah,” Tony says, and then clears his throat when even that single syllable fails to leave his mouth properly. “It’s been a while. I need a haircut.”

Steve continues to toy with his hair, twisting strands of it around his fingers gently.

“Do you hate it?” Tony asks.

Giving Tony a quick shake of the head, Steve looks down at him with a lopsided smile. “I like it. I’ve missed it. Reminds me of your hairstyle when we first met.”

Tony blinks and swallows, pretending that the innocent statement doesn’t bring about a surge of warmth in his chest.

“What is it?” Steve asks, when Tony’s question doesn’t seem to come.

Tony thinks of brushing it off, considers swallowing back the question sitting on the tip of his tongue for a brief moment, but eventually he says:

“Why, uh,” Tony licks his dry, chapped lips, “why did you take off the ring?”

Steve’s fingers still in his hair. 

When Tony finds the courage to meet his husband’s eyes again, Steve is looking at him with wonder in his eyes. He pulls his hand back, away from Tony’s hair and toward the ring hanging from the chain around his own neck.

Steve hums in thought, fingers fiddling with the metal band. Tony watches Steve stroke the words engraved on the inner circumference of the ring with the pad of his thumb.

He pretends that Steve’s answer isn’t everything.

It takes entirely too long for Steve to present him with a reply, but when he does, it is one that is not even remotely within Tony’s realm of expectation.

“I took up pottery.”

“...What?”

Steve exhales through his nose, his lips pursed together in a manner that suggests he is holding back a smile.

“It’s fairly recent,” Steve says, eyes still staring at him with careful amusement. “I needed something to distract myself from constantly missing you. A friend from art school happens to own a pottery studio. She offered, and... I started taking pottery classes.” 

A knot unties in Tony’s chest.

“How did that go?” Tony asks, voice thick with emotion.

“Not very well,” Steve admits with a wry smile. “Still missed you something fierce.”

Steve holds his hand up, fingers splayed. Even under the dim lighting, Tony can still make out the faint circular mark around his ring finger, the small strip of skin a few shades paler than the rest of his hand. The sight of the empty finger still looks disturbingly wrong and Tony finds himself having to look away just to feel less unnerved.

“Does it bother you?”

“Huh?”

Steve wiggles his fingers, blue eyes staring at him, soft and curious.

“My naked finger. Does it bother you?”

Tony’s mouth opens and closes wordlessly. Yes is the honest answer that wants to crawl out, but Tony bites down on it.

“Uh, it’s— No.” Tony swallows, throat clicking and eyebrows furrowing. “It’s fine.”

After all, the last thing Tony wants to be is an insanely possessive spouse who obsesses about something as simple as a naked ring finger when the wedding ring itself is still hanging from a chain around his husband’s neck. Steve still carries it on his person at all times, just not on his finger.

Steve gazes at him for a long moment, quiet in thoughtful consideration.

Slowly, an amused smile starts to bloom on Steve’s face.

“It bothers you, huh?”

Steve has always been able to read Tony like an open book.

Embarrassment colors Tony’s cheeks. “I don’t— It’s okay if you want—”

“I like it.”

“I— I know. It’s fine, Steve. I get it. Besides, it’s too much of a hassle anyway, constantly having to take it off and put it back—”

“I like that it bothers you. Me not wearing the ring.”

Tony goes quiet at that, wide eyes blinking at Steve. His husband shrugs, smile unwavering.

“I like it when you notice little details like that,” Steve whispers, shuffling closer. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I kinda like having you obsess over me.”

His hand cups Tony’s cheek, thumb stroking the delicate skin under Tony’s eye. “I like hearing how much I mean to you.”

Tony stares at him, emotions turbulent in his chest. He focuses on Steve’s eyes and the warmth of his palm against his face. 

Steve’s smile turns fond. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll wear it on my finger again, I promise. I suck at pottery anyway.”

For a while, they lie motionless in the quiet, gazing at each other. Steve leans close, eyes squinting. Tony feels the light scrape of fingernail on the skin of his cheek and Steve pulls his hand away to show Tony something that is sitting on the pad of his thumb.

“Eyelash,” Steve announces gleefully with a child-like grin. Carefully, he transfers the eyelash onto the back of Tony’s left hand. “Make a wish.”

Tony huffs, but proceeds to close his eyes obediently. After a few moments, he lifts his left hand up to his mouth and blows the eyelash away. 

When he opens his eyes, he is greeted by Steve’s curious stare. 

“What did you wish for?”

“You know the rules. If I tell you, it won’t come true.”

Steve narrows his eyes. Eventually, he relents, sighing in resignation. “Fine.”

He lies down properly, letting his head rest on his pillow before throwing an arm around Tony, pulling him close until Tony’s head is safely tucked into the crook of his neck.

“Get well really, really soon, sweetheart,” Steve whispers, pressing a kiss into his hair.

Tony lets his eyelids fall shut, reciting his wish once more in the private confines of his mind, hoping that it reaches the ears of whatever deity is watching over them:

Please let me keep him. Whatever happens, please let him stay by my side. ‘Til death do us part.

[troubatrain]

sober - m. barzal (pt. six)

a/n: so after the hell week we all survived in the good ol’ USA my brain finally decided to let me actually write. tbh i wrote this about four times before i forced myself to just finish it and stop tweaking it.

Five

Mat’s kitchen looked like a tornado had run through it. The usually pristine, absolutely untouched kitchen of the young bachelor was getting more use in the twenty minutes Mat had been awake than it ever had. Truthfully, Mat wasn’t a morning person. Mat slept like a rock, and he thought there was nothing besides the fear of his coach that could get him up earlier than noon, but he was wrong. You had him up before eight, hoping if he could beat you to waking up you wouldn’t have a chance to sneak out on him. He did, opening his eyes to catch you snoring softly beside him. He laid there for a moment, his eyes on you because he almost in disbelief you actually stayed. It was a moment of peace, the complete opposite of the mess you’d both gotten yourselves into. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t debating how he was going to get someone to leave, he was figuring out how he was going to get you to stay.

Mat was an absolute whore, and he didn’t care one bit. Why should he? He was young, he was at the top of his game, and his ego got a little bigger everyday. He was just as guilty as you were when it came to his lack of commitment. Mat had never been able to be a good boyfriend, no matter how hard he tried - so he just stopped trying. His schedule wasn’t made for dating, and he never wanted to put the work in. You were different. Something clicked in Mat when he realized how enraged his body felt hearing DeAngelo talk about you the way he did. He was going to let it go, and in hindsight maybe he should have, but he didn’t want to. That protective feeling took over his body because it was too strong for him to shove back down before it got out.

Mat would have told you he loved you after that game, because he does, but he knew he was playing a dangerous game. The reality of what would happen if this was real scared him, but not nearly as much as he knew it had to scare you. You had something to lose, a life that Mat just wouldn’t be apart of. Mat wasn’t in a position to ask you to give that up, especially for someone who you weren’t even dating. Mat knew if he moved too quickly you’d get spooked and run away without giving Mat a second thought. He’d disappear from your memory like everyone before him.

Mat’s thoughts were broken by the sound of your feet padding into his kitchen, your arms wrapping around his waist while you pressed a kiss to his back, “Hi pretty girl.”

This was uncharted territory, the morning after. You’d always been an expert, leaving yourself enough time to sneak out and leave before anyone would notice you were gone. That kept your heart safe, free from the feelings that were present in this very moment. You couldn’t have left last night, slipping out of Mat’s bed and into a cab in the middle of the night, but something stopped you, “Do you actually know what you’re doing?”

“I thought I’d try to make you breakfast,” Mat admits, a smile on his face while he turned off the stove, eggs forgotten to look at you, “I’ll get better at it, I promise, breakfast can be my thing.”

“Your thing?” You muse, letting Mat gently push you onto the island, standing between your legs.

“Yeah, when we fall in love or whatever, I’ll make breakfast,” Mat chuckles, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

“You’ve lost your damn mind Barz,” You sigh, leaning your head on Mat’s shoulder while you savored the last few moments of peace you were feeling. You were going to have leave his place, off to a four game road trip where Mat was free to fuck whoever he wanted.

Mat’s finger was gently gliding over your face, “If I’m crazy it’s because you made me crazy.”

“You were insane before I met you,” You defend not daring to open your eyes and meet Mat’s gaze, “And now you’re just annoying.”

“I don’t remember being annoying when you were begging me to fuck you last night,” Mat counters back, hands moving to your bare thighs, the warmth from his hands was a stark contrast from the cool counter, “If I’m correct it sounded something like Mat please.”

“Don’t push your luck Mat,” You threaten, his impersonation of you from the night before stopping almost immediately.

“Would I push it if I asked you to stay until my flight later?” Mat asks, eyes full of hope while he tries to hang onto the moment just a little bit longer.

“If you never talk about it again,” You nod, deciding that the damage was already done. You were so far gone a few more hours couldn’t hurt you anymore.

“We can talk about how fucking good you look in orange and blue though,” Mat teases, a grin on his face. You furrow your eyebrows, looking down and realizing just what shirt he had given you the night before. A bright white number thirteen in the corner, with an Islanders logo present on the front.

“Mat if you don’t take this off of me right this second.”

“You never have to ask me twice to take off your shirt babe.”

***

You leaned your head against the window of the private jet that definitely cost more for one flight than your entire salary, taking a deep breath and a break from the laundry list of emails you were due to answer. You were flying to St. Louis for the All Star Game, your plans of a week long vacation somewhere warm with some of the team and their significant others thrown out the door the second Chris stepped in for Panarin last minute. Not even two minutes later, Charlotte strutted over to your desk to tell you that without a need for someone to translate for Artemi, you were the new kid and that meant you had to suffer through the weekend while everyone else took their vacations. 

“At least pretend to be excited,” Chris mutters next to you, taking a break from his own reading and elbowing you in the side.

“It’s hard to be excited when everyone’s on a beach and we’re flying to Missouri in January,” You snark back, pulling your glasses off your face and rubbing your eyes.

“You either need to start sleeping or stop hanging out with that secret boyfriend of yours,” Chris jokes, but it struck a nerve with you.

Mat wasn’t your boyfriend. Mat. Wasn’t. Your. Boyfriend. He didn’t get to have all of you, because he didn’t deserve it - no man does. Nothing about the very small amount of vulnerability that he got to see after that game meant anything. You left that morning and he went on a four game road trip and the world spun on. You could stop whenever you wanted to, move on with some other dumb boy who didn’t care more about you in clothes than without. But did you want to? That was a debate you’d been having with yourself for days.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” You grumble, gritting through your teeth. Technically, it wasn’t a total lie.

“So you are seeing someone!” Chris points out, as if your deliberate words were going to make it past him. Chris held most of the intelligence on the entire Rangers roster, and there was nothing that he didn’t pick up, “So, What's the deal? He doesn’t want anyone to know about you or you don’t want anyone to know about him.”

“It’s mutual,” You hum, sipping the coffee that had gone cold.

“Are you a sugar baby?” Chris questions, a cautious tone to his voice, “Not that I think there’s anything wrong with it or anything-”

“No I haven’t found a sugar daddy,” You roll your eyes, waiving Chris and sparing him the lecture that there’s nothing wrong with the idea at all, “We’re just in a limbo.”

“For what it’s worth,” Chris says, taking a deep breath before he finished his thought, “You seem happy, you haven’t snapped on Tony in almost a week.”

“Thanks Chris,” You laugh softly, popping a headphone back into your ear so you could finish up some work.

***

Mat was in absolute disbelief the moment he saw you step into the hotel lobby. You weren’t supposed to be in St. Louis, you were supposed to be on some island in a bikini making him wish he wasn’t good enough to be selected for the All Star game at all. Mat scratched his head for an answer as to why you didn’t mention the change of plans, but then the thing that he spent his entire roadie before he left for St. Louis entered his brain at full speed.

You’re not her boyfriend.

Mat owed you nothing, and you didn’t have to tell him anything you didn’t want to. Mat honestly knew about four things about you and all of them related to your job. He was dying to know everything, even the stuff that didn’t matter that much. Hell, Mat would’ve killed to see the inside of your apartment at this point. He just needed one thing, one thing that he could hold onto that you showed him that no one else got to see. He was sure he’d find it, especially after he finally got you to stay at his place, but now he was starting to think maybe he’d never crack you.

You were going to just avoid Mat like the plague. The hotel was swamped with players, their families, and any staff that had tagged along for the weekend. The city was still buzzing from last season’s Stanley Cup win and there was not a chance Mat wasn’t going to be busy all weekend, because Mat Barzal was an amazing hockey player. You hated to be reminded of it, because if you could have Mat feed you stupid compliments and never remind you of his job you’d be happy forever.

hotel sex is on the table

and you look fucking hot today

You roll your eyes, checking your phone while you were standing in line to check in. You look around the room, trying not to draw any attention to Mat who was giving you a shit eating grin from across the lobby. He looked good, a white button up tucked into suit pants that were doing his ass justice. You look at Chris, who was too engrossed in his own phone to even look back at you.

pretend like i don’t exist right now and we’ll talk

wanna play a game?

that didn’t go well for you last time Barzy

if i beat your buddy kreids tomorrow night you give me one night

you won’t

is that a yes?

fine

You turn around, giving Mat one last death stare to remind him you weren’t kidding on your plea to pretend you didn’t exist. Your job was important to you because you weren’t Mat. You weren’t going to get paid millions of dollars to play and then retire with a pretty penny in your pocket. You worked, and the stress of losing your job would definitely break you. Charlotte instilled fear in you like no other boss you ever had could, and if you got caught messing around with someone who played for another team while you were working she’d probably just fire you on the spot. Not to mention the heartbroken faces of your chosen family. Mat somehow existed in both a different and the same world as you. He understood your work life because it was so close to his, but he had his own work family and you had yours. No matter what, there would always be some sort of weird divide caused by that stupid rivalry. For now, it was just going to have to be something you’d worry about later.

***

You turned in the mirror of your hotel room, the lacy black lingerie set fit your body like a glove, and you were impressed with Mat’s taste given all he ever wore was sweatpants. You look in the corner of the room, the last piece of his little gift sitting in the box. Mat dropped it off earlier, a note on top telling you that when he inevitably smokes Chris in the faster skater competition he had something in mind. You weren’t surprised by his confidence, but you were surprised by the gift itself. Folded neatly in the box wasn’t just the lingerie, a bright blue and orange jersey was right underneath it, a shiny white number thirteen stitched into the back. You knew you didn’t have to wear it, because Mat wasn’t going to force you to do anything, but you were wet at just the thought of how animalistic Mat would probably get. You tossed on the jersey, throwing an even bigger sweatshirt and sweats over it before you snuck up to Mat’s floor- hoping Chris wouldn’t catch you leaving from the room across the hall.

You pull out the room key Mat gave you, sneaking into the door and locking it shut behind you. You slipped off your sweats, leaving you in nothing but the jersey and your panties.

“Fuck,” Mat dropped his phone from his hand the second you came into his view, “I didn’t think you’d wear it.”

“I wasn’t going to,” You muse, your confidence boosting while you strutted over to Mat. He had that effect on you, the ability to always make you feel like the sexiest woman in the world - even if you didn’t feel like were, “But then you beat McDavid.”

Mat pulled you between his legs while he sat on the edge of the bed, his hands toying with the jersey while he let the fabric slip through his fingers, “You look so fucking good in my jersey baby.”

“I’m proud of you Mat,” You purr into his ear, playing into Mat’s ego just a little bit. You were proud of him, and for the first time you wanted him to know. You pressed a kiss against his jaw, feeling his own breath hitch in his throat, “Can I show you?”

“Keep that jersey on and you can do whatever you want to me,” Mat admits, slipping his hand under the jersey and tapping your ass lightly.

“I’ll keep it on,” You giggle, pushing Mat on his back and getting to work. Your lips kissed down his chest with every button of his dress shirt you got undone, tossing it in the corner to be forgotten about until later. You unhooked his belt, leaving open mouth kisses just above his pants. You slid off his dress pants slowly, taking his boxers with them to let his cock spring free. Mat groaned at the sight, gathering your hair to pull it back for you.

“Wait,” Mat stops you, holding your hair back to stop you from putting your mouth on him. His finger traced your cheek, a look on his face you couldn’t quite read, “I just want to remember this, you look so beautiful right now.”

You could feel the heat rush your cheeks, Mat had called you to dozens of things but never once did the word beautiful ever slip through his lips, “You’re just saying that because I’m about to blow you.”

“No, baby, I mean it- fuck,” Mat groans, this thoughts halted by your mouth on his cock. His hips snapped up, hitting the back of your throat, “You’re so fucking good princess.”

You moan, hollowing your cheeks and gripping Mat’s thighs a little tighter, giving him the show you so desperately wanted. You head bobbed in a perfect rhythm, taking as much of Mat as your body could handle. Mat pushes your head back, taking a look at the line of spit that was still connected to his dick, your eyes were glassy and your throat was sore but Mat would keep you like that forever if he could, “Let me finish.”

“I’m in charge tonight,” Mat reminds you, the tone in his voice sent a chill up your spine. You knew Mat was rough, and a little demanding but he never crossed that line with you, “On your knees.”

“Like this?” You tease, sitting up on your knees to rile him up just a little bit more.

“More like this princess,” Mat stands behind you, gently pushing you down so your ass was in the air. He was quiet, bunching up his jersey so he could get a full view of the lingerie he went out and bought just for you, “Be good or I won’t let you cum pretty girl.”

Mat’s threat with a light smack to your ass, a moan escaping your lips. He slipped the black lace panties to the side, gliding one of his fingers against your folds while he pressed a kiss to your skin, “So wet for me already.”

“Only for you Mat,” The words tumbled out of your mouth, your eyes widening at your own confession.

Mat was thankful he was behind you, because if you saw the way his gaze changed from your words he’d never live it down. You looked so perfect, spread just for him. His jersey. His number. And in his own fantasy: his girl. He snapped himself back into reality, sliding into your pussy that was practically dripping in anticipation.

“Faster, fuck Mat please,” You whimpered out, trying to move yourself to get Mat to pick up the pace. He chuckled darkly, hips snapping back and forth until the only sound in the room was the string of curses leaving your mouth, “I’m close-”

Mat flipped you over before you could finish, his hand grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him, “Tell me this pussy is mine.”

“Fuck I’m yours Mat,” You breath out, locking your eyes with his while it felt like time froze around you, “I’m yours.”

“Look at me when you cum baby,” Mat urges, his hand still gripping your chin. He picked up his place, making use of his other hand around your clit, “C’mon princess just for me.”

Your pussy fluttered around him, Mat letting out a groan while he tried to hold onto this moment for just a bit longer. He looked down at you, catching your breath from your own high. You hand snuck down to his cock, pumping it slowly, “Cum on me.”

Mat nods, letting you work on his dick with your hands while he nibbled at your neck. He was going to mark you up, make you remember who you belonged to because he so desperately wanted it to be him. He spilled onto your pussy, head pressed into your neck while he came down from his own high. You both laid there for a moment, your hand gently stroking Mat’s back while you both took a moment to think about what just happened. Mat was possessive in a way he’d never been before, and you ate it up without a second thought - that had to mean something right?

“I need to get back to my room,” you whisper, afraid to break the comfortable silence.

“I know,” Mat nods, finally picking his head up, “Keep the jersey, you might need it one day.”

“Your stupidity is honestly astounding,” You joke, brushing his hair out of his face while Mat’s face turned into a pout.

“Can I take you on a date?” Mat breathes out, hoping he wasn’t reading this the wrong way, “No games, no funny business, let me take you out.”

Say no. Say no and never call him again.

“One date,” You agree against your better judgement, pushing Mat away and looking around the room to find your sweats that you snuck into his room in, “Better make it a good one.”

Mat smiles, teeth on full display while he watched you slide your pants back on, “I’m the best at everything Y/N don’t forget that.”

“Goodnight Barz,” You tease, giving him one more look before you left his room.

The elevator ride down was quiet, most of the hotel’s occupants already asleep or still out partying the weekend away. For your sake, you hoped Chris would be fast asleep like the grandpa he was. You rushed down the hallway, Mat’s jersey still hanging loosely off your frame while you looked in your hand for your room key. Your search was stopped by a throat clearing behind you. You jump, turning around to see Chris’s eyes boring into you.

“You’ve got some explaining to do.”

[motownfiction]

kick out the jams

On May 1, 1981, Will sets his alarm for half an hour earlier than usual. He needs to psych himself up. Today is going to be a big day.

He wakes up in his bed in the O’Connor family basement and immediately heads to the record player. He knows exactly which record he’s going to play to help himself get ready. He’s known for about two weeks (ever since he got the news about today). He drops the needle on the vinyl, and he’s ready to begin.

Alright now … right now it’s time to … KICK OUT THE JAMS, MOTHERFUCKER!

Immediately, it’s like Will can’t control himself. As he slips on his best pair of khakis (the ones that don’t have grease stains on them from all the secret after-school trips to McDonald’s he makes with his big sister, Sarah, who just got her driver’s license), Will begins to dance. He’s not a great dancer, but he moves. He moves and jumps and feels awake on a morning other than Saturday. He buttons up his best blue shirt, and he’s the king of the world … or at least the king of St. Catherine of Alexandria Junior High.

There’s yelling above him in the family room. He hears his sisters shouting his name, but he ignores it. Nothing can bring him down now. This is his song, this is his day, and nobody can take that away from him. He hears footsteps coming down the stairs (big, mean, angry footsteps), but in the midst of the music, it’s easy to ignore.

“PATRICK WILLIAM O’CONNOR!”

He jumps, sending his comb flying through the air. Full name. That much, he can’t ignore. He gulps and looks up to find his angry mother, Colleen, glowering down at him from the highest steps. And even then, he doesn’t turn down the music.

“Yes, Mom?” Will asks, his voice much smaller than usual.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Will shrugs.

“Getting ready for school,” he says. “Listening to music. It’s a big day. Thought I’d get myself really ready for it.”

“You’re damn right it’s a big day,” Colleen says. “Your father and I took off work for this May Crowning Mass. We never thought one of our kids would put the crown on Mary, and we really never thought it would be you.”

Will bows his head and turns red as can be.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” he says. “I didn’t mean to be so loud. I just wanted to get ready.”

“And this is the way?” Colleen asks. “Getting up half an hour earlier than you need to, just so you can blast … who is this?”

“MC5. They’re local.”

“Either way. If you’re gonna play it, turn it down.”

Will sighs and shoves his hands into his pockets, though he’d really like to sink below the floor, as far as he can go.

“Yes, Mom,” he mutters. “Sorry.”

Colleen smiles, gentler than before.

“I know, baby,” she says. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

And so, Will walks over to the stereo and turns the volume down, until Rob Tyner’s voice is just a whisper. He picks up his comb and sighs. He’s not the guy who blasts rock ‘n’ roll in the morning, not giving a damn what anybody else thinks. He’s one of six winners selected from an eighth-grade writing contest to put the crown on Mother Mary at Mass today – a contest he only tried to win so he could spend extra time with the girl he loves. He’s Will O’Connor.

Whatever that means.

[ihaveafandom-problem554]

i love your works oh my god, the wait was so worth it. thank you for doing my requests!! they all turn out great :D despite my username, I’m glad I made an account just so that I could request more of your spider bro content.

okay so uh I’m sorry if I’m requesting this a bit early since you only posted your latest spider bro today but after reading it, a sudden wave of problems and curiosity hit me so I thought:

‘yo aren’t the village gonna question why spider bro and rui only come around during sunset to night time sooner or later? are they gonna make up some excuse about them having some condition where if they stay in the sun for just a little bit they get really bad sunburn?? like “yeah so our parents died because they went out in the sun for too long so newbie demon slayers noticed this and thought they were demons in disguise and killed them, haha runs in the family amiright” idk ?? (sorry that’s a weird death) I like to imagine they pretend to be albino so that they can have an excuse in case someone ever asks them or say that they have jobs in the day time to support each other so they just visit around night time.

but honestly, I think the village would be a little sus of them but then they’ll be like “ehh they can’t be demons, they would’ve ate us already! plus they’re just so kind!!” so yeah.. (unless the village doesn’t really know about demons, then you can just ignore this)

okay so imma just start putting my ideas and prompt in here yeahh ..

so what I imagine is that the village knows about demons, but most just chalk it up as some sort of folklore to keep kids from wondering at night by themselves. however some (mostly the elders) claim to actually experience demon attacks so despite practically everyone living these two, they have their eyes on them just a bit..

the elders there would usually gather some kids and tell stories about demons roaming the night hunting for humans, and there would be people who would be as strong or stronger than the demons and slay them by cutting their heads off with a special blade- they say that there’s a whole organization dedicated for these specific people! and that those people who would sometimes come to the village with an odd uniform on are part of them.

one day while spider bro and rui visit the village, ashai drags them to where his grandfather would tell stories about demons and how the grandfather’s father were part of that organization and was called a “hashira” who mastered the sun breathing.

after that ashai would be like “that’s just gramps being all weird again with his whole demon slayer stuff, but it’s pretty interesting! it’s only a folklore though so you have nothing to be scared of. honestly, there’ll be times where I think you’re both demons or something because you guys act like you don’t know how to function as a human being sometimes, haha” and the spider bros would just be like “aha.. yeah..”

some of the elders start noticing that they only came around night, and unfortunately, not everyone is friendly. they kind of start interrogating them to the point where the other villagers would politely step in and tell them that they’re just kids with a condition that runs in their family (and rui becoming fed up then almost slashing them into ribbons). of course, a small portion of them don’t stop and are.. quite positive of it and would be a bit passive aggressive towards the two.

alright so I’ve come up with some ways it could go but I have no idea, you can decide which is better or somehow merge them together or mismatch and combine things,,, :D

1: obviously, the spider siblings can’t survive on human food. they’ll need human blood, the human food is just for when they get bored of eating humans for a bit. but.. how are they gonna get some? they can’t eat the village, and as much as they found the elders annoying they couldn’t since 1, they were pretty much right about them, and 2, if they were to eat the elders/anyone who found them suspicious even more people would start growing sus of them.

maybe.. the demon slayers that came to the village every now and then?

(name) would usually just use his spiders and take at least a cup (or two if rui’s feeling hungry) of their blood and bandage them up to go.

it lasted for a few weeks, so he thought he could control it.

him and rui did their best to try and suppress the urge, they really did.

they vowed themselves to not eat innocent people after meeting the friendly village.

but whenever a demon slayer would come to the village and whenever they took one or two cups of their blood, the more they craved just devouring them right there and then.

it was true that the two had a dislike for demon slayers, but they can’t say that most of them aren’t innocent. (I mean.. they kind of aren’t too)

they can’t do that.

but…

a few more cups won’t hurt, right?

a few days pass, and the butterfly mansion has been getting more and more demon slayers, most of them were from dangerously high blood loss, just enough for them to live and walk.. kind of.

and they all came from near the mountain.

but.. (I’m assuming this is after the fight between tanjiro and rui, but instead rui got away before tomioka could show up) didn’t tomioka, shinobu, and a few other demon slayers slay all of the demons there? unless there are a few hiding.. however they claim to not have entered the mountain, and instead went straight to a nearby village. they also claim to not have remembered anything about getting their blood taken, just waking up on a floor near the village with their arm bandaged up (it always happened at night time, too).

two or more days pass before they send some demon slayers to come investigate.

these demon slayers of course being tanjiro, inosuke, and zenitsu (plus nezuko).

when they arrived, it had been around 5 to 6, just before the spider siblings came to visit.

as they entered, tanjiro could smell a very faint scent of a demon almost everywhere (mainly around the shops and the people)- so faint that he could’ve missed it if he wasn’t searching for demons right now.

but before he could try to track it down, many young children from the village ran up to them and started excitedly asking about their uniform and their swords.

“are you guys demon slayers?”

“are grandpa’s weird demon stories are true?”

“can I touch the sword???”

it was no secret that they stood out from the crowd, and the villagers usually didn’t really question it because each demon slayer looked pretty normal and bland.

tanjiro smiled remembering his younger siblings all getting ready to eat and play during spring time.

zenitsu noticed tanjiro being confused and told them that demon slayers weren’t very well known, but it seems like it’s a folklore from around here.

and inosuke, of course was about taken aback by all of these mini humans running around them and was about to fight them until tanjiro reassured him.

ashai ran towards them thinking that rui and (name) was here a bit earlier than usual but was a bit disappointed when he got closer to clearly see their faces (and a boar head).

I TOLD MYSELF I SHOULD'VE ADDED A SCENE WHERE OLDER SPIDER BROTHER EXPLAINS TO ASHAI THAT HE GETS REALLY BAD SUNBURN BUT MY LAZY ASS SAID NO. ACTUALLY FUCK ME WHY AM I SO LAZY!?

Anyway let's do this..

Ok so the Village are familiar with demons and demon slayers but they take it as a Folklore since the grandparents keep mentioning it to the kids.

And before [Name] brung Rui, Ashai did ask him why he only came when the sunsets. And [Name] told him he was really sensitive to the sunlight, like, to the point it would actually burn him really bad.

And Ashai looked at him saying, "You could've just said you get really bad sunburn.."

And yes, his mom did smack him for saying that.

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

"Hi Ashai! You seem happy today."

"[Name]! Rui!" Ashai called out, running towards the two boys. Rui immediately pouted when he noticed the voice calling up to them wasn't one of the kind ladies trying to offer him food. Meanwhile, [Name] smiled at the boy's presence and walked faster towards Ashai.

"Yeah! I want to bring you to my grandfather-”

“Why?- Wait was is that..” Rui interrupted causing Ashai to stop walking and face Rui. “You did not just ask what a grandfather is.”

“I did. Now I want an answer.” Rui demanded his facial expression not changing a bit. Ashai sighed before explaining what a grandfather was, later explaining what a grandmother was, then explaining what a great grandfather and grandmother was.

Before Rui could ask anymore questions about people’s parents, Ashai changed the subject to the reason why he wanted to take them to his grandfather. 

‘Demon slayers’ was the first thing that came out of Ashai’s mouth and it made the two spider sibling’s heart drop. Rui’s heart dropped even deeper once he heard the word ‘Hashira’. It was almost impossible to hide the fact that it bothered him greatly.

Ashai turned around to race the two, and met their petrified expressions. Thinking they were terrified about the demon folklore, he immediately stopped talking and cupped [Name]'s face to try and reassure him.

"Oh no don't worry! It's just some dumb folklore, there's nothing to worry about! The demons aren’t real, it’s just some dumb story to keep the little ones from going outside at night. Its just gramps being all weird again with his whole demon slayer stuff, but it’s pretty interesting! Again, it’s only a folklore though so you have nothing to be scared of.” Ashai says letting go of [Name]’s face and opens the door for the two siblings to walk through. “Honestly, there’ll be times where I think you’re both demons or something because you guys act like you don’t know how to function as a human being sometimes, haha” Ashai joked, hoping to lighten the mood a bit

[Name] nervously laughed back while Rui just glared.

As the 3 boys walked inside the minka, [Name] noticed no one else was there except for the old man and Madam Yui. Not only that, but there was some strange aura in the air, as if he wasn’t welcome here. Turning over to Rui, [Name] can see his uneasy expression as well. But before he got the chance to say anything, Yui spoke aloud.

“Oh! sorry boys grandpa needs to rest, I’m sure if you come back later he’ll tell you one of his stories.”

A quiet sigh of relief was emitted from Rui. “Aww, that sucks I really wanted to you guys to here some of his stories.” Ashai pouted slightly. 

“Don’t worry, he’ll be awake soon.. Ashai, go over to the bakery and get the box wrapped in blue, its for your grandfather, don’t take to long ok?”

“Ok.. [Name]! Come with me-”

“No, I need him for something, just go over to the bakery real quick, get the box and come back.”

“But-”

“Nothing sweetie.. Hi Rui” Yui smiled, hugging the demon child who had just ran up to her. “How are you baby? Did you eat the food I sent you home with?”

“Go young man.”

Knowing he couldn’t argue any further, Ashai reluctantly went over to the bakery without [Name]. “That boy is obsessed with you, isn’t he?” Madam Yui joked. Unfortunately for [Name], he was too busy staring at the door Ashai just went through to hear what Yui said, causing him to answer a couple seconds late. “H-huh”

“The tempura and Sushi? Yeah we finished it.”

“Oh, you must still be hungry.. [Name] can you close all the blinds and sweep the floor?”

“Of course!”

“Thank you dear, I’ll be in the kitchen with your brother if you need me” Yui said, walking into the kitchen with Rui.

[Name] got straight to work, closing the blinds and sweeping isn’t anything hard...But the strange aura he felt before when he first entered, intensified. It almost felt like the air gotten thicker as well.

As [Name] swept closer to the sleeping grandfather, he noticed something right next to him. Taking a closer look, [Name]'s eyes at the sight of the samurai sword. Why does it look bigger than the usual than the swords I’ve seen.

After staring at the sword for a bit, [Name] finally looked away from the sword to finish sweeping. 

“I kill your kind with this exact sword”

...

“Is that what you tell the demons before you kill them?” [Name] questions, trying his best not to show the slightest amount of fear in his voice. “Every. single. one.” [Name] nodded, but refused to face the owner of the voice and the larger than normal sword. “Your kind disgusts me. Killing innocent souls just for your selfish needs.”

“I don’t know what you mean by ‘Your kind’ sir-”

“Demons.” He spat. “I mean Demons.” [Name] only nodded, no words, justs movements. Speaking of movements, the old man began to get up and slowly move closer to [Name]. Shit, what do I do now?

After hearing Ashai say that his grandfather was a Hashira, [Name] knew that his age didn’t affect the way he moved. The retired hashira can block his way to the door in the matter of seconds. He didn’t want to question how fast he was compared to a sun-breathing hashira. So he put the broom down and finally face the old man who was ten feet away from him. “Who many demons did you ki-”

“You may have fooled everyone in this village with your little story. But I’m not naive.” The sun breathing hashira was now walking towards [Name]. [Name] wasted no time walking towards the kitchen, he could probably notify madam Yui..

If it wasn’t for the sun breather grabbing [Name] by the neck. "Like I said before... your kind disgust me. And don't get me started on your excuse of a leader 'Muzan kibutsuji' (I hate his last name. I've spent about five minutes trying to figure out if the first half was 'kitbust' or 'kibust'). You don't happen to have any information on him do you?" With every word, the hashira tighten his grip on [Name]'s neck. Making it harder and harder for [Name] to breathe. "And don't worry about him finding you after you tell me, I'll kill you the second I get the information I need."

"A-and...wh..if...don't..?" [Name] was barely audible and on the verge of blacking out with the insane grip on his neck. He could taste own blood at this point, but he wasn't concerned about the blood trickling out of his mouth, he was more concerned about how no one was here to save him. Madam Yui told Ashai not to take long, and the bakery isn't far away from here. So what the hell?

Without waiting another second, [Name] unleashed a tiny spider to go and kill the hashira. Sure he was Ashai's grandpa but, it was either this old man or him.

"Have nothing to say? Well that's disappointing.." [Name] could feel his eyes threatening to shut as he Choked on his own blood. "P-plea....sto..p" he tried to plead. "If it wasn't for you disgusting demons.. my wife would've still been alive. I swear, I will defeat your leader, and kill every single one of you good for nothing demons-"

"GRANDPA NO HE ISN'T A DEMON! LET HIM GO" Ashai yelled, alerting Madam Yui who came rushing out of the Kitchen, Rui not to far behind. "Put him down Grandpa! He isn't a demon!" Ashai pleaded, gripping onto his grandfather's hamari, tears threathing to spill from his eyes. "PLEASE STOP YOUR HURTING HIM!"

"Oh Ashai, this isn't what you call a friend. This is a human eating demon, that killed your- OW DAMMIT" The hashira yelled in pain, thus letting go of [Name].

Once [Name] hit the floor, he immediately sucked in as much air as he could before choking again.

"[NAME] are you ok?!" Ashai called, rushing over to help [Name]. Rui would've done the same if it wasn't for Yui protectively holding on to him.

"When was the last time you took your medicine? You almost killed him! He's only a child" Yui quickly scolded the elder. " Oh sweetheart.. that kick was so powerful it almost broke my arm. You should-"

"I'm not and won't become a demon slayer. Go back to your room and take your medicine. You almost killed him!"

"He isn't a kid. That thing is a demon.. And so is the smaller one your holding."

"They aren't demons-"

"They how come they only come out when the sun goes down?" To that Madam Yui didn't have an answer. She never really thought about why they did come when the sun isn't out. Thankfully Ashai spoke up just before the elder could prove his point. "Their both sensitive to sun the sunlight. Both their parents died because of that."

Madam Yui held Rui even tighter as she looked back at the elder. "Ashai go take [Name] to Ms. Reiki." She demanded. Without thinking Ashai immediately picked up [Name] and proceeded to carry him to whoever Ms. Reiki was.

"I know you wanna check on [Name], Rui, don't worry we'll go there in a minute." Yui reassures, while cupping Rui's left cheek. "Yui, your not this naive."

"You should be ashamed of yourself, hurting a defenseless child-"

"He isn't a child.. You know that demons basically have a unlimited lifespan? That 'kid' is most likely 40 years old"

"Your just delusional, you haven't taken your medicine all day have you?"

"I do not need that Goddamn Medi...cine.. What the hell are you staring at?!" The elder quickly spat at the small spider boy who stared at the two adults.

"Nothing.. I didn't know older people quarreled.. I thought only children quarreled." Rui said with pure innocence. "I thought when hu- people got older they learned how to settle their arguments maturely, rather than idiotic children that need someone superior than them to settle it for them"

The two adults stared at Rui, both with different intentions of what to do next. "Oh, Rui, It's-"

"Don't explain anything to that thing." The elder spat. Rui watched as the two adults argued with each other. For some strange reason Rui was invested slightly uncomfortable but couldn't help but listen to what they had to say.

Throughout this argument, Rui learned some new words..

...

"I'm so sorry about my Grandfather, [Name], my mom said he's been having some illusions lately.. I didn't expect it to get this worse." Ashai apologized for the 26th time. "Like... I said for 26th...time Ashai, its ok! I'm fine really.."

"I know but he choked you and called you a demon! Why are you so calm about it?! You could've died!"

".....But I didn't..So..Yay?..." [Name] jazzed-hand. Ashai just sighed in response.

"That's odd.." Ms. Reiki said to herself, but the boys were interested anyway. "What's is it Reiki-san?" Ashai asked, his voice full of concern. "You said your grandfather choked him right?..Oh nevermind it's probably nothing.." She dismisses. "How's your throat? Is it feeling sore?"

"Well-"

"Don't speak. Just nod or shake your head." Reiki quickly spoke. [Name] nodded slightly before smiling at Reiki. "Your welcome sweetie.. Oh! Yui, is everything.."

"Everything's ok.." The two boys turned their heads to face Yui, who had just walked in with a sleeping Rui. "[Name] I am terribly sorry for what occurred and your injuries."

"It's-"

"What did I say about speaking?"

Not wanting to know the punishment for disobeying a nurse, [Name] nodded again with a smile, hoping Madam Yui will see that he forgives her. Thankfully she understood and returned a smile. " [Name] you can go, just remember to take it easy on your throat and take the medication I gave you." [Name] obeyed and made note to throw out the medication, since it had no use to him.

Both Reiki and Madam Yui watched the [Name] walk out with his admirer, Ashai.

As they left, the two women looked at each other with worry some expressions. "How did it even happened?" Reiki asked immediately. "I'm not sure.." Yui answered in disappointment. "I was in the kitchen with Rui because he wanted a snack. Then all of a sudden I hear Ashai yelling something about a demon so I ran out to see him choking [Name]"

"Did he take his medicine? Or did he continue to rant about how he doesn't need it?"

"That exactly" Yui sighed. She looked down at the sleeping Rui she had in her hands. The only thing she could think about was how the situation would have happened if she didn't come out sooner.. Rui would've lost the only member of his family.. he would've been traumatized for the rest of his life.. "The nerve of him to call him a demon.." Yui spoke through her teeth in anger.

Taking a second to rid off any dark thoughts she turned back to Reiki. "I'm leaving now. I want the kids to eat something before they leave, have a nice night."

"Same to you as well"

...

"You need to eat a human"

"I'm aware of that.. But who am I going to eat?" [Name] questioned. It has passed a few weeks ever since the two spider siblings ate a human body. Sure, the human's food is tasty and gives them energy for a couple hours, but it doesn't give them the nutrients they need. Day by day they can feel their bodies growing weaker do to the lack of human blood in their system. [Name] could care less about his own health, he was more concerned about Rui and what he was gonna eat. Every couple minutes or so, he could here Rui's stomach growl from hunger.

It pained him to see Rui in this state. Yet he's been in this state for weeks now and [Name] still doesn't know what to do or who to eat.

"We can eat that old sun-breather" Rui suggested. [Name]'s eyes widen in response. "Or" Rui continued, "We can eat everyone else who called us a demon! We'll make them regret-"

"We can't do that.."[Name] sighed. [Name] knows that Rui's way smarter than this, but after weeks of being around humans and not being able to take a even a bite out of them, is bond to do something to the way he thinks.

"They've been accusing us for being demons, if they suddenly go missing, we would have a lot of suspicion towards us."

"If we can't eat any of the old people or anyone else at the village who can we eat?" Rui asked, completely annoyed. "It's already a problem that we can't go out during the day when the sun's out, so how can we- uhh... [Name] what- what are you doing?" Rui questioned as he watched [Name] create a small spider and send it out to go in the opposite direction towards the deeper part of the woods.

"[Name], What are you?- huh?" Rui stopped talking as he sees a demon slayer slowly walk towards him like a mindless zombie.

"You did so well sweetie~" [Name] cooed to his spider, gently petting the spiders head. "uhh.."

"mh? Oh! I heard footsteps coming while you were talking.. I don't think we can devour the body this time though.. they'll probably send in more demon slayers complaining about a demon."

Rui stared at the demon slayer who had no control over their body. It's right there in front of him, he has every right to devour the vulnerable human, but then at the same time he doesn't. Just because people don't know he's a bloodthirsty demon who needs human blood to survive.

"Cut the skin open, you can suck the blood off of that. Take as much as you want but don't take too much so they can't walk, ok?" [Name] said. "Wait what about you? You need to-"

"It's fine, you need it more than me, I'll just fine another-"

"No. Take some as well, we don't know the next time you'll get choked like that.. or be threaten with wisteria.. we might not be able to regenerate as fast as we used too. I won't take a lot.. A cup or two should be enough to last a week or so." Rui demanded. [Name] only nodded in response.

Rui examined the slayer standing in front of him, figuring out where to suck the blood out of. "Cut open wherever chubbiest and take some blood. I'll send out a couple of my spiders to grab some bandages so we can patch them up. Then we'll leave them here and continue with our day." [Name] said, already making bigger than normal sized spiders to send out to the village to steal some bandages.

"How often are we gonna do this?" Rui asked while using his threads make a 'X' formation around the slayers hips. "I guess every couple weeks? or when your feeling hungry..."

It was surprising how well they managed to control themselves for so long. After taking a little more than one cup of blood, they soon decided to reward themselves with another two cups. After being satisfied, they cleaned and bandaged the body. Later leaving it mindless on the ground waiting for sunrise to come and free it from it's curse.

The spider siblings decided to do this every week or two. Find a slayer, drain most of its blood, patch it up, and pretend like nothing happened. It was hard trying not to devour the human, but the managed. Sure they had to hold each other back every now an then but the really are trying..

Meanwhile the butterfly mansion was trying to solve the mystery of the barely walking slayers with bandaged arms, legs, neck, and or stomach with a dangerously high amount of blood loss.

"Shinobu! We got another one!" Aoi called from the door frame leading to the medical room. "And Yes! Its the same bandaging pattern!" Shinobu sighed, yet kept the smile that was always on her face. This is the 5th one this month, the last person was barely alive.. if this keeps going...

"Oh! Another one?" Kanae (Yes she's alive here, I really miss her) said walking into the same room as Shinobu. "Your back so soon?" Shinobu questioned. "Only for a bit... I do have to get going soon. But since it is still day, I thought I would be able to get some more information on why some of our people are coming back with a terrible amount of blood loss. You care to join me?" Kanae offered, signaling Shinobu to follow her. Without a doubt, Shinobu followed her sister to medical room Aoi was in.

...

"Wait, The mountain that's a couple miles from here?" Shinobu asked, interrupting the story the only stable slayer was telling. "Y-Yeah actually.." The slayer answered.

"That's odd.." Kanae remarked, putting her index finger to her on her chin. "Shinobu, didn't you and tomioka slayed all the demons near the mountain?"

"Yes. Indeed we did.. We even raided the shed near the mountain."

"Act-actually.." The slayer spoke up "I never went to the mountain.. I went straight to the village near the woods."

"Why go straight to the village?"

"I was going to ask the people there if they had experince any suspicious activity. But before I got to the village, I felt something bite me. That's when I passed out. I wasn't sure how long I was out for, but when I woke up.. I was all bandaged up."

"Sorry to interrupt" Aoi interrupted "But, did you ever did get the chance to go to the village?"

"uuh no." The slayer concluded.

" Why'd you asked that Aoi?" Kanae asked. "Oh I wanted to know where the bandages came from. Anyway I should get back to work." Aoi claimed as she quickly walked off.

Aww she want to contribute but got nervous.. Kanae smiled to herself before getting up with a small stretch.

"Well!" Kanae clapped. "We'll send a couple demon slayers to investigate the area... Aoi said the patients claimed that it happened at night correct?"

"Uhh Yeah.."

"Then it's settled we'll send slayers right away to the area.. please get as much rest as you can and stay healthy, we will get to work immediately. Thank you!" And with that Kanae signaled her sister to follow her once more before leaving.

"Are you going to ask any of the Hashira to help?" Shinobu asked. "Well no that's not who I had in mind.."

"Then who?"

...

"We could've got here earlier if SOMEONE DIDN'T MAKE US STOP FOR TEMPURA!" Yelled a very pissed Zenitsu. Inosuke paid no attention to Zenitsu and instead enjoyed the last bite of Tempura he had in his mouth underneath his mask.

"Well it's only 5:48 so we have plenty of time to investigate the area" Tanjiro said trying his best to cause not another fight between Zenitsu and Inosuke for the fifth time today.

Zenitsu sighed. "Well? Do you smell anything?"

"Oh um.." Tanjiro took a second to sniff the air.

The village smelled friendly. Happy kids, happy adults, happy pets, demons, baked goods, fresh food, healthy environment..

"Huh?" Tanjiro said quietly to himself. He took another sniff around, taking him about a minute to finally, fully grab the demon scent.

"It's very faint." He unintentionally reported to Zenitsu. "It's on almost everything..and everyone.."

"Wait.. on the people too?! Dose that mean it's hiding as a human!?" Zenitsu began to panic. "It seems like it... how else would the scent get on the people."

"Start tracking it down gompochiro!!" Inosuke demanded.

"Right I should-"

"Is that a real sword?" A little girl asked. "Oh uh- where did you-"

"Are you a demon slayer?"

"Are grandpa's weird stories true?"

"Why do you have a boar hat?"

"Can I touch the sword?"

"Can I wear the boar hat?"

"Is that a bird on your head?"

A whole bunch of little kids ran up to the three strange looking people and asked them all the questions that came to mind. Not giving them the chance to answer.

Tanjiro smiled at all the kids who surrounded them, they reminded him of his siblings when it was time to eat or going out to play.

"Are Grandpa's weird stories true?"

Tanjiro's eyebrows furrowed. "I thought demon slayers weren't that well known.." Tanjiro questioned Zenitsu.

"INOSUKE STOP TRYING TO FIGHT THE KIDS- huh? Oh uhh I guess it's a folklore around here.. maybe to keep the kids from walking out at night or- INOSUKE NO"

"LITTLE ONES FIGHT MEEEEEEEE!!!"

"No! No Inosuke these are kids, you know? The ones we don't fight!" Tanjiro quickly reassured. "Huh? Why not?? Their just like us but smaller! They can fight!!"

"Oh you got to be kidding me-"

"[Name]! I didn't know you were coming this early- oh hi! Sorry.. I thought you were someone else.." Ashai apologized, he thought [Name] and Ashai came earlier due to the ruckus outside in front. Instead he ran up to a couple of strangers in weird clothes and a shirtless boy in a boar hat.

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

So why did this take me a month to post? It's not even that long..

I'll edit this in the morning and answer the other asks in the morning as well.

Remember that requests are still open and have a nice night/day/afternoon/universe

[fanficsandfluff]

That Damned Laugh

To the anon who informed me of Rainbow Rowell's RACISM, i am writing this for my love of the characters, not the author's writing skill or fame. fuck her. i am still very much aware of what she wrote about and how she portrayed a character, but i cannot stop this inspiration when it comes to me. (wait to be clear to everyone reading this who hadn't seen the anons and my discussion, carry on wasnt the accused racist book. that was something else.)

If you, anon, end up seeing this and maybe don't like what I'm doing or whatnot, I'd love to hear from you again.

For those of you who maybe do practice Death of the Author, I hope you enjoy!

Fandom: Carry On

Characters: Simon Snow, Baz Pitch

Words: 1,905

~~~~~

BAZ

Simon Snow does not laugh, full stop.

(Well, to be fair I'm not a cackler much myself, but I do at least guffaw from time to time.)

Snow spent so much of his youth being weighed down by the 'Chosen One' moniker and being tormented by yours truly. Still, I know of that little list he kept of things he liked about Watford and all its experiences and people. It seemed he did take joy in most of it all. After all, I'm sure he had fun at Bunce's house on many an occasion.

But just being around him and in this way for a while now, you start to notice. He's seen me laugh. A few times, in fact. And hard. I'm not very proud of it; what that man can do to me and make me do. He doesn't like when I cover my hand over my smile. It's habit, though, I've reminded him countless times. The fangs and all. We're working on it.

But Simon may just smile or huff. I've giggled with him on our particularly soft nights or togethertimes.

All this to say... I've found a new hobby/goal/obsession recently.

Make Simon Snow laugh.

My cheekiness all these years has kept my humor to cruel, lowbrow tones. Maybe it makes me less funny, I don't know. But once or twice I'd nail a comeback or snarky one-liner (of course with a bit of flirt thrown in) and Snow will giggle and shake his head. But that's all I've achieved! A small, pandering, boring -- though still admirably adorable -- (Damn that Snow) giggle.

I've moved on to physical humor. I tried throwing myself dramatically over him when he's in bed, but he just seems to think it's all part of my Pitch flair.

Today I made a minor breakthrough.

I was in the kitchen trying to mix myself a smoothie. Bunce has been gushing about a smoothie craze for weeks now, so I finally figured why not. The damn lid wasn't on tight enough. Not-yet-smooth smoothie shot everywhere. There was a pause as it happened, my one hand on the Liquify button, my other resting nonchalantly atop the lid that didn't do any lidding, dammit.

Snow looked up at me from his seat by the kitchen counter, eyes drawn from his phone. A beat. He barked out a laugh. A much louder one than I think I'd ever heard him make.

"Put a sock in it, Snow," I growled, to keep with my facade, though inside I was jittery with glee. I wanted to hear more.

Snow convinced me to binge a new show. Crime Minds. Something like that. No, criminal. It's Criminal Minds.

You wouldn't expect this to be a series fit enough for a cuddle, but Snow and I are an unexpected couple. So it works.

A few dumb jokes are littered throughout the show, in between corpses and the same police station set being reorganized and shot from different angles every episode. One such joke was so inconspicuous and so nothing that I cannot even recall it now. But both Snow and I chuckled at it. Then Snow made an additional comment to it, making me laugh. And soon we were both giggling together like schoolboys, like we had early on when we were maybe still a bit bashful with each other.

He shoved his face into my ribs and snorted when I whispered the new inside joke much later on in the episode. I was also grinning like a madman, but the soft tickle his action gave me didn't exactly---

Oh.

In bed. Perfect. Lovers fool around all the time in bed. Not fool around as in sex--well, no, of course sex, but I mean they also play around-- never mind.

SIMON

Baz has been acting off lately. I can't quite put my finger on what it is. He seems distracted. More like how I act. I'm always thinking of something else, not able to stay focused on one thing for long. He's like that, but trying to act like he isn't.

We're doing something odd today. We're in bed at sunset. It's hardly sunset, as a matter of fact. The sun isn't seeping orange and red into the flat yet. Penelope took us out on a hike today. It tuckered the both of us out. Baz drained a buck when we got home.

I'm laying perpendicular to Baz (or is it parallel? composite? I could never remember mathematics), my legs resting over his stomach. He's reading and I'm playing a puzzle app on my phone.

BAZ

Now's the time, Baz. Just do it, don't think.

His socked feet are right in front of me. There's only been a handful of times we've sat in this position, half of them being my lower half resting on Simon's sturdier upper half. It's now or never.

I stare at his feet for too long, zoning out and forgetting that I was left staring at them, so it definitely looked like I have a fetish for feet. Which I don't. Focus, Basilton.

I take a finger-- no, two fingers. I scratch quickly at his heel. His leg jerks, foot being pulled back.

"What?" he asks me, as if I hadn't been plotting this for weeks. As if I just did it to get his attention.

"Something on the bottom of your sock, love."

Simon went right back to his head hanging upside down off the side of the bed, phone held out in front of his eyes.

Well, that proved one thing. He's ticklish.

He places his ankles right back where they originally were, crossed, atop my stomach. I try again, this time on his arch. I apply more pressure.

"Bahaz!" Simon shakes his foot out, "Is that how you start a foot massage?"

"Would you like a foot massage?"

"No. Not if it's going to tickle like that."

My cheeks heat up. Damn that buck. I'm rosier than I usually am.

"You're ticklish?" I ask, coolly. I barely stuttered.

"I wouldn't try it," he's back to looking at his phone again, "Penny did once and I nearly broke her elbow or something. She wouldn't stop talking about it for days."

"So you're very ticklish, then."

"Don't," this is the first time Snow seems to tense up.

There's a moment of quiet between us. A tense quiet. I lunge for his ankles and he shoots up into a sitting position. I scratch at his arch with four fingers now and he screams.

"Baz!" Simon whines a bit and he somehow yanks his legs free, not without losing one of his socks in my grip.

SIMON

He's grinning at me. No. Sneering.

I still hate when he does that. Reminds me of back when I wanted to throttle him. Sometimes I still do.

"Baz," I warn. His whole posture changes into a predator's, like he's the lion and I'm his fresh zebra. The new stance sends a shiver down my spine, with his shoulders hunched and all, ready to pounce.

"Baz... Baz, Baz, Baz..." I say over and over again because he's smiling at me, and then I start to smile, too, "Bahaz!" I try once more, but his name is all that's coming out, and now I'm giggling. I'm nervous. He did this to me.

BAZ

He's already giggling and I haven't even laid a hand on him.

"Yes, Snow?" I respond to his many calls of my name before I lurch forward, sending my whole body crashing on top of his and trying to pin him. I dig my fingers into his sides and don't stop for as long as I can maintain contact through his squirming.

"Gehehet off!" he's already crumbling, words being broken up with short laughs.

I slide my fingertips to his stomach and scratch there; Snow bucks. It gets even better when my cold fingers make contact with his warm skin beneath the shirt he's wearing. He yelps like I've never heard him yelp (like he's burnt his finger, but he's also 11-years-old again), and he dissolves into loud, beautiful laughter.

"St-Stohohop! Baz! I'm going to end you!"

"Isn't that how we always said it would end? Snuffing each other out? I'm perfectly happy that it's now going to end in my favor. You should've told me you were this easy to defeat earlier on, Snow."

"Shut up!" he cackles, legs kicking wildly behind me, as my body is thrown over his torso. Now I have both my hands buried into his sides, squeezing and squeezing. I get curious, my cheeks still burning with blood, and I lean down to his neck and... (no, I don't bite) I start nibbling. Snow loses it.

His whole face scrunches up, as I watch when I pull my head back. His smile is huge and bright. And the laughs bubble up from his stomach, releasing softer into the air like he sucked a little of the joy from it before releasing to keep for himself.

"Dohon't do that!"

"I thought you love my kisses."

"Not tha-HAAT!"

He shrieks again, hands too slow to stop my face from moving in. I nibble and even lick a few times, careful not to touch him with my fangs.

Did I mention that my hands are still tickling at his sides and ribs while I'm nibbling? Oh yes, I've waited so long for this sound. I wasn't going to make it come out lightly.

I blow a raspberry and that's when Snow's laughter catches and turns all hiccuppy. The noises are infecting me, starting to make me giggle. I shift, and my face now descends towards his stomach, which is bared after I rucked the shirt up.

SIMON

"TYRANNUS BASILTON G-GRIMM FUCKING PITCH-- OR WHATEVER YOUR LONG STUPID ARSEHOLE NAME IS--"

He's laughing at me. I keep laughing even without him tickling me.

"I swehehear I'm going to fucking kill you and your whole family if you do that dohown thehere--" I'm hiccuping. Crowley, how embarrassing.

BAZ

He's got me. I can hardly breathe from laughter. I keel over into him or he into me, but soon we're a laughing pile together on top of the mussed up sheets on the bed.

I make a loud snort and that reels us both back in again, laughing til we're red in the face and til my cheeks hurt.

Simon is giggling away, taking deep breaths to try and calm himself, but he just keeps on giggling. I'm able to sit up a little more and Snow's head is in my lap. He's beaming and looking up at me through squinted, teary eyes.

"That was fun," I say, and I don't think it's the brightest or smartest thing to say. But I say it.

"I love you," Snow's smile is still wide, like he's drunk from it. There's a moment where I feel like I've died again, color drained from me.

It doesn't seem to bother him, that he's said that. For the first time. I run my fingers through his reddish curls once, letting them tangle in the locks towards the back of his head. I hunch myself down so I can kiss him.

"I've wanted to hear that for so long," I whisper.

"That I love you? You haven't figured it out by now?"

"No, you idiot," I say with nothing but fondness, brushing my nose along Simon's jaw, "Your laugh."