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bitchesuntitled · 4 months

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Friday Night

Summary: First time Frankie tells you he loves you and finally meeting the boys.

Part of the Parents to Lovers series, set between Paint with Me and Between Us

Warnings/Tags: MDNI, GO ON GET! Cuteness, little splash of smut, oral M!receiving, anxious reader, cussing, I think that's it but if anyone sees something I should add that I forgot let me know!

A/N: Happy Frankie Friday!!! Thank you so very much @beefrobeefcal, my fellow Frankie obsessed friend for taking a look at this and continuously helping me with my writing. @endlessthxxghts for also taking a look at this and offering your expertise much appreciated bb! Last but not least, @jay-zzle GUURRRLLLLL!!! Moodboards(like this one), story ideas, screaming with me about Pedro, thank you for meeting my delulu at the same level. ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Masterlist||AO3 Link||Parents to Lovers

dividers provided by @saradika-graphics

“I’m so close,” Frankie hisses, gripping the couch cushion, knuckles turning white with the force. His cock twitches in your mouth, your hands feeling the tension in his thighs as you bob along his length, eyes looking up to watch him. His eyebrows scrunch together, chest heaving, his neck and face flushed with a crimson color.

He groans, watching your swollen lips wrapped around him as he comes into your mouth.

“I love you.”

Your eyes widen at his words as you swallow every drop with a hum. Releasing his length with a soft pop, you crawl into his lap. You couldn't help but let your smile spread across your face. Leave it to you and your luck to have the man you are smitten with admit he loves you as you make him come with your mouth.

Frankie's eyes remain heavy lidded as he watches you with a half-smile tugging at his lips.

"So," you giggle, walking your fingers up his chest with a cocked eyebrow. "You love me, huh?”

He grabs the back of your neck, smashing his mouth against yours in a desperate kiss.

“That’s not exactly how I wanted to tell you, but yeah,” Frankie says, neck and cheeks flushing with warmth even more.

“Hmm,” you laugh, “What a way to let a girl know.”

“It’s true though, ya know? I do love you. Definitely didn’t want it to come out that way, had thought of a better way to tell you but shit happens,” Frankie says with a shrug.

“I love you too.”

“Yeah?” he asks with a grin, “So, does that mean you’d want to meet the guys finally?”

The men are more so brothers to him than friends. He’s brought up introducing you to them before, but it just seemed too soon. It’s been five months, and things seem to be going in a more serious direction. You’ve tried to put it off, though now it seems like it might be the right time.

—

Frankie: Sitter just got here. Headed your way 😘

It’s Friday night, you’re finally going to meet Frankie’s friends, the men who mean just as much to him as Missy. Dressed in your favorite jeans, your lucky AC/DC shirt, and your sneakers, you’re pacing outside on the sidewalk waiting for Frankie to arrive.

“You’ve got this,” you mutter to yourself. If anyone were to see you they’d probably think you were nuts but you didn’t care; your nerves were getting the better of you, the voice inside your head making all sorts of suggestions like, why you picked that outfit or that you’re underdressed. “Stop that, you’re meeting them at a bar for fuck sakes,” you hiss at yourself.

You hear Frankie’s truck approaching and stop your pacing. It’s darker out but you can still see him through the windshield, that standard oil ball cap on, and the wide grin on his face when he sees you. He stops beside the sidewalk, leaning over the center console to push the passenger side door open for you.

“Didn’t think you’d be waiting outside for me,” he laughs, as you get in the cab of his truck.

“Nervous,” you shrug, giving him a quick kiss before buckling in.

“Nervous?” Frankie asks, perplexed, “About what?”

“Just nervous they aren’t going to like me,” you say quietly, picking at the skin around your thumbnail.

“Baby,” Frankie says, grabbing your hand, “You make me happy and they know that. That’s all they care about. No need to worry about anything.”

You let out a breath, squeezing his hand. You’re already feeling more calm now that you’re with Frankie.

—

It was a short drive to the bar they frequent the most. Frankie’s told you many stories about this bar and their shenanigans there. As you enter the bar you can feel some of the tension leaving your body. It’s a nice little place, not very well-lit but it gives off a comforting vibe. There’s a jukebox in the corner, a rough-looking gentleman behind the bar, and a table where you see three men beginning to stand, waving at you and Frankie.

“Fish!” A tall blonde shouts, “You finally brought your girl!”

“I did!” Frankie says, his hand at your lower back guiding you over to his friends, “Finally talked her into meeting you assholes.”

Frankie began laughing and giving hugs to his friends before you all sat at the table.

“Alright babe, this is Will, Santi, and Benny,” Frankie says pointing to each man, who in turn raises their hand.

“So he had to convince you to meet us?” Will asked, raising his eyebrow.

“It wasn’t really like that,” you laugh, “I was just nervous is all.”

“We don’t bite,” Santi said with a smile, “Well not all of us,” he added, glancing at Benny.

“It was one fucking time. Will you let it go?” Benny grumbled, crossing his arms, “I told you if you didn’t let me go I was going to do it.”

“I’m gonna get a beer,” Frankie said, nudging your arm, “Want anything?”

“Margarita, please.”

“Sure thing,” he said, kissing your temple before leaving the table.

“So,” Will started, leaning closer to the table, “You get along with Missy?”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Santi murmured, “Ironhead, leave her alone. Remember meeting Nora at Missy’s birthday party last month?”

“Nora?” Benny asked, whipping his head towards Santi, “The one that hit me in the nuts with the water balloon?”

“She did what?!” You asked, “I’m so sorry!”

“Guys, this is Nora’s mom,” Santi explained, gesturing towards you.

“Oh fuck! I forgot you’re a MILF!” Benny exclaimed, earning him a smack from Will to the back of the head.

“Here you go, babe,” Frankie said, setting your margarita down in front of you. Immediately grabbing it to take a drink, hoping it soothes your nerves after that small interrogation from Will.

—

The conversation and drinks flow as you hear more stories about Frankie, Santi, Benny, and Will. From their time in the army and their many adventures in life after. You learn that the men have been there a lot for Frankie, his journey as a single dad, and the struggles he’s dealt with. It’s apparent that Missy is a big part of their lives just as she is in Frankie’s. They each spoke fondly of her and how much they adore her.

“I’ll be back,” Frankie grunts, standing up with a stretch, “Bout to piss myself.”

“Please don’t,” Santi laughs, “I don’t have a spare pair of pants this time.”

You give Santi a curious look as Frankie glares at him shaking his head, making his way to the bathroom.

“Story for another time, hermosa,” Santi says with a wicked grin.

“What’s the deal with you and Frankie?” Will blurts out, once Frankie is out of earshot.

“Yeah,” Benny agrees, “What’s the deal?”

“Not quite sure what you mean,” you start, “But if you’re asking what we are, he’s my boyfriend and I’m his girlfriend?”

“No, we get that,” Will replies with a sigh, “What I mean is what are your intentions with him? Where do you see this going?”

“Jesus christ, Will,” Santi scolds, “You need to leave her alone with the intense questions!”

“I’m just a concerned friend,” Will snaps, then turns towards you, “Do you see this lasting long term or is this just a fling?”

“Well,” you start, “It’s not just a fling by any means. I love Frankie. I know you are looking out for him and are protective, I can respect that. No need to worry though, the last thing I would want is Frankie’s heart to be broken or mine.”

“Do you get along with Missy?” Benny pipes in, “You never really answered that question earlier.”

“Missy is such a sweetheart. I have her over at my house all the time to play with Nora and she loves it when she gets to stay the night,” you smile thinking about the last slumber party the girls had, baking cookies together making a mess of your kitchen, “She’s a cool kid but we haven’t told the girls yet. We want to wait until we’re more sure of where things are going if you’re concerned about that.”

Will and Benny nod, listening to what you have to say. Santi gives you a warm smile.

“Told you guys,” Santi hums, taking a swig from his beer, “Why would you question anything when Frankie’s been so positive when he talks about her?”

“Rose-tinted glasses my friend, rose-tinted glasses,” Will replies, “We’ve all been there.”

“Hey guys, I’m back,” Frankie says, taking his place beside you, “Sorry, sitter called.”

“Missy okay?” you ask, concern etching your face.

“Yeah, yeah,” Frankie smiles, brushing his hand along your shoulder, “Just wanted to tell me good night.”

“She’s so sweet,” Will smiles fondly.

“She can be,” Frankie laughs, “So did I miss anything while I was gone?”

“Not much,” Will replies, nodding his head towards you with a smile, “Finally got yourself a good one Fish.”

Frankie smiles at you, tips of his ears going a slight pink, and he nods, “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

#pedro pascal characters #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie x reader #frankie friday #francisco morales smut #fransico catfish morales #frankie morales fluff

112 notes · View notes

emepe · 4 months

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— Pairing: Eren x Reader, friends to lovers

— General info: series, 18+, modern AU, serial killer AU, smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

— Summary: Fate is a tricky thing. Certain situations can’t be avoided as much as certain people’s lives can’t be kept from intertwining. With a serial killer on the loose, and unexpected relationships blooming, how will the universe intervene?

— Chapter summary: A perfect morning with the perfect guy with plans for the perfect life together.

— Content warnings: slightly nsfw, mention of unprotected sex.

— Notes: Welcome back to TV Friday! Please read the notes at the end for an important notice. Don’t be shy to stop by my ask box <3 If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list, lmk. Happy reading!

Links: Read on AO3 | Chapter guide | Masterlist

the thing about perfection

Eren Jaeger has always had a perfect life. He was born to two loving parents with high-paying jobs that provided him with a lovely home, delicious food, fun trips, and any education he craved.

He had the perfect mix of genes, too. He grew up to be handsome, smart, and kind. He bagged a job he loved straight out of graduating and his parents helped him get his first apartment, one that others could only dream of living in had they not been born into a life of penny-pinching.

Everything was laid out for him to take as he pleased. It's a good thing he was never overly ambitious.

The only time things were rough was when his father passed, but even then he coped in healthy ways and barely felt the stumble, thanks to his loving mother and tight-knit friends.

Everything had always been perfect, even now as he wakes up in his spacious apartment, to the sleeping face of his beautiful girlfriend, who only has a few minutes before her alarm begs her to wake.

“Good morning, baby,” he murmurs when you start stirring under the sheets at the first ring of your alarm.

He smiles when your hold on his waist only tightens, his daily reminder of how much you struggle with being pulled away from his perfect, warm self. He chuckles softly, granting you your usual ten minutes of extra bed time as his hand gently massages your scalp and he presses a kiss to your forehead.

When you finally look up at him, you're wearing a lazy smile, that beautiful lazy smile that only makes him fall deeper in love and drives his heart into a craze.

He kisses you once, twice, then again, and again, and again. Until soon enough, you're fully naked under the sheets, making love and voicing each other's names in breathless saccharine tones.

It's enough to make you run a few minutes behind on your schedule. But it doesn't matter, you figure you can be late to work at least once. So while Eren heads to the kitchen to make you breakfast after wiping you clean of his cum, you get changed and take your daily pill.

“What's all this?” you ask once you take a seat at the bar.

There's a spread of fruit, pancakes, hash browns, eggs, bacon, bread and jams. It's a lot, even for the two of you.

He shrugs.

“I just wanna make this day special from start to finish.”

You give him a weird look as you slowly chew on a strawberry.

“What?” he innocently asks. “Five months is a big deal to me.”

You smile.

“Every month is a big deal to you,” you tease.

He laughs.

“Okay, fine. Make fun of me all you want. But can you blame me?” he asks as he rounds the bar. You instinctively let him settle between your thighs, ignoring the creases it inflicts on the skirt of your dress. “I'm a man in love.”

You giggle as he brushes his nose against yours and he mirrors your smile before pressing his lips to yours.

“You're so cheesy,” you grin as he pulls back.

“Maybe so, but you're never getting rid of me.”

You laugh as you help yourself to a hash brown.

“I never said I wanted to.”

You take a bite of your hash brown, your face instantly lighting up at the crispy texture and flavor. You give Eren an enthusiastic thumbs-up before sampling everything in front of you.

Eren adores watching you. It fills a cavity in his chest he hadn't known was there until he met you, and it swells him with pride to know he's had a hand in making you happy.

His smile slowly fades into a more serious expression as he watches your delighted reactions to the scrambled eggs cooked to perfection.

He brings a hand to your hair, playing with the locks between two fingers.

“I'm so fucking in love with you,” he murmurs.

“Yeah?” you smile.

He nods as you turn to him once more, wrapping your arms around his neck to bring him closer.

“No doubt about it. I'm crazy about you.”

“How much?” you tease.

He pecks the corner of your mouth.

“I'd die for you.”

Your life has never been perfect. You were born into a broken home with a father who wiped his memory of your existence and a mother who would've preferred you'd never been at all. You struggled and suffered, hurt and stumbled many times. You were deceived and tossed away, beaten in more ways than one by life and the people in it.

The only times things were alright have no place in your memory, except for those that happened after meeting your friends and the first real love of your life in your mid-twenties. A bit of a late start for good things to occur in your life, but well appreciated.

Now, everything is perfect — as perfect as it's ever gotten for you. Your perfect boyfriend holds your hand as he expertly switches lanes and cruises down the highway to take you to your steady job where you get to gossip with your best friend.

The universe can have favorites sometimes, and it's clear to you that Eren is one of them, as he manages to catch every green light on the way to your office building to get you on time.

It's a popular theory that you attract what you need, so perhaps it's a good thing you found Eren. It's thanks to him that you get to stand in the glow of his good fortune.

The late March air is crisp and fresh on your face, complemented by the warmth and sweet smell of spring that swoops in through the open windows of Eren's car.

When he pulls up to your office, you bid him goodbye with a kiss and a promise to see each other that evening to celebrate your five months together over dinner.

“And I have a surprise for you,” he murmurs against your lips, causing you to pull back and raise a suspicious eyebrow. “Well, it's more like news, and of course, I want your opinion, but…” he trails off with a shrug.

“Are you pregnant or something?”

He chuckles, shaking his head.

“No, not that. But it's really good stuff. You'll love it, I swear.”

You hum in contemplation before pressing a kiss to his cheek and hooking your bag in the crook of your elbow.

“I'll see you later, then. I love you.”

He smiles as he watches you get out of the car and shut the door.

“I love you. I'll be back at six.”

He spares a moment to watch you leave, waving goodbye when you look back after walking a few steps, as you always do, with a big smile on your face and your eyes crinkled in joy.

After you disappear through the revolving doors, he leaves.

The coffee shop is quieter than usual as the early afternoon weather wavers between cool and warm, making loyal customers debate between picking from the cold menu or the hot one.

You sip on your iced tea enthusiastically, much so that Armin watches you with amusement through the long pauses in your conversation for you to satiate your thirst.

“Oh, wow,” you sigh after finishing off your drink with a loud slurp. “That's the best iced tea I've ever had.”

You feel the tea refreshing your stomach as you lean back into your chair.

“I can tell,” Armin chuckles as he stirs the ice of his coffee with the straw.

“What were you saying?” you ask, simultaneously trying to recall where your conversation left off.

“We were talking about your plans for tonight. Congratulations on your five months, by the way.”

You smile appreciatively.

“Oh, right. And thank you. Eren's making dinner for me and, apparently, he has some news to share that he wants my opinion on.”

“Sounds fishy,” Armin murmurs, to which you giggle.

“He said it's good,” you reply with a shrug. “I'm excited either way.”

“I can see that, too,” Armin smiles. “You're practically glowing.”

Your face warms as a nervous giggle sputters from your lips.

“It's just… gosh, he's so great.”

You smile to yourself, your happy expression finding itself mirrored across Armin's features, as well.

“Would it be cheesy if I tell you how in love I am?”

“It'd be cruel considering I don't have a girlfriend of my own to be cheesy about,” Armin mutters with feigned annoyance.

“Aw,” you pout. “So much for being Cupid.”

He laughs.

“I know, right?”

“Don't worry, you'll find someone.”

“That's what people who date always tell their single friends so they don't kill themselves,” he deadpans, to which you laugh in return.

He sighs dramatically.

“It's my own fault for focusing my romantic abilities on getting other people together. I could've been married by now.”

A sympathetic smile finds its way to your face.

“Well, you're a total catch. Maybe you'll meet someone at the big Jeankasa wedding.”

His face lights up with renewed optimism.

“Or yours and Eren's, even.”

He grins slyly when he notices your efforts to suppress a smile.

“Oh, I don't know if we're there yet. There's still a lot more to experience, I think.”

Armin's brow furrows slightly.

If there's one thing he knows about his best friend, it's that he's not one to date for fun. And considering how adamant you were about not getting involved with someone, to now being the most thrilled when it comes to the mere mention of Eren's name, it's hard to imagine formalities haven't been discussed.

“You guys haven't talked about it?”

You shrug.

“A couple times,” you bashfully reply. “I mean, not a wedding, specifically. Just… the future, you know? Moving in together has been on the table before. I try not to get too excited but… it's hard. And I don't really want to picture myself with anyone else. They just wouldn't compare to him.”

Armin nods, his lips perked into a small smile at your shyness as he takes a sip of his coffee.

“I guess,” you murmur pensively. Armin lowers his glass and raises his eyebrows in attention. “If Eren wants to… I'd say yes to anything.”

The walk back to the office is littered with jokes and cheerful banter, as well as the usual bitter remarks from having to return to work.

But it's odd. It's been a while since you've felt genuine dread for anything. It's as if the past few months have converted you into a more accurate portrait of the girl with a colorful apartment, and you're almost certain you can pinpoint the start of these refreshing times. It's been about five months.

Armin treads to his side of the floor once outside of the elevator, raising his palm as a goodbye before turning on his heel.

You smile to yourself as you head back to your desk, quietly humming a cheerful tune without any real structure.

It's not until a coworker sitting at their cubicle a few feet away opens the Tupperware container to have lunch at their desk while continuing to juggle their workload that the light drains from your face.

The smell of their food wafts in your direction, spurring an unpleasant feeling that bubbles from your stomach and crawls up your throat.

Strange, you think.

It's not as if there are rotten tones to your coworker’s lunch, or that it's especially pungent, and yet you're having a hard time trying to ignore it.

You stand from your desk, walking with as much composure as you can manage to the restroom. But once you're in the privacy of a stall, you've no power to stop your stomach from turning inside out.

“Now, just cover with the lid and let it simmer,” Carla's voice echoes in the kitchen from where Eren's phone is propped against the toaster.

“Should I do the asparagus next?” Eren calls out as he follows his mother's instructions for her bolognese recipe.

He could've easily looked one up on the internet, but he's been adamant about using the exact recipes for your favorite dishes from the time you've been together, or at least the best he can manage to recreate on his own. Perhaps he was going a bit overboard, but it's not like he cares. Five might not seem as much of a milestone as other numbers, and it's true Eren made a big deal of every month you've spent together, but this one had to be perfect.

At the risk of having time claw at his feet, he left the grocery shopping for this morning, so you couldn't figure out his plans. He made sure to carefully stash the evidence of his big surprise; wiped the relevant search history on his computer, and tucked the pictures and messages with the real estate agent behind a code.

He's been sneaking looks at the photos all day. An apartment that perfectly matches the cozy vibes from your place and the space and luxury from his. A place he can clearly imagine being decorated with pastel colors, ceramic figurines, books, and hand-made blankets with little effort.

He knows you'll say yes this time, and he knows you'll be especially thrilled to find out he found the perfect pink bathtub to switch out the plain white ceramic one that comes with the place he's been secretly viewing for two weeks.

Living with you has been on his mind for months. It wasn't until he found the very apartment he's planning to show you in a few hours that he felt overwhelmed with relief — as if things were falling into place. His willpower has been working overtime to make sure he doesn't jump the gun before tonight. And yet he couldn't help from acting extra giddy for the past two weeks. It's a miracle you haven't caught on.

“I think you can leave those until the end. Those are done in twenty, hon.”

Eren nods along to his mother's instructions as he tackles on another load of dirty dishes. He glances at the time on his screen while scrubbing, exchanging a smile with Carla as he scrubs a pan.

“Did you see the photos I sent you?” Eren grins.

“The place is incredible,” Carla gushes. “She'll be over the moon.”

“Thanks for calling about the bathtub, by the way,” Eren blushes. Had it not been for Carla and her connections, he wouldn't have gotten his hands on the last standing unit of the discontinued pink bathtub model from the poolhouse.

“No problem, hon. Keith owed me one.”

She watches her son as he gingerly stacks a pot on the drying rack beside him before patting his hands dry with a tea towel.

“Can I see the ring?” Carla asks.

“What?”

Eren's eyes widen, though it's hard to tell if it's in surprise or confusion. His reaction causes Carla to nervously laugh.

“You're proposing, right?” she asks, though her voice wavers the slightest bit, reflecting her nerves from possibly speaking out of line.

In any case, Eren is always open to share parts of his life with his mother, but she's never been one to speak out on her suspicions first, always granting him the opportunity to come forward on his own.

Eren knows how much Carla adores you. Their weekly call time has been sliced by half to chat with you, too. So perhaps it's her excitement over Eren's meticulous planning for a special night with the girl he's called the first real love of his life that's driven her to imagine bigger plans behind the scenes.

He knows his mother well, so he can only shyly laugh at her assumptions before clarifying.

“I'm not proposing yet, mom. I'm just asking her to move in with me,” he smiles.

Carla could've reacted in embarrassment had her ears not zeroed in on the word ‘yet’.

So she only nods, her mouth forming an ‘ah’ shape.

“Okay, okay. I get it now. My god, I thought tonight was the night… but not tonight… not yet… I see.”

She slyly eyes Eren through the screen, to which he sputters an embarrassed laugh.

“Mom,” he partially whines.

The corners of her eyes crinkle in amusement.

“Oh, come on! She's an amazing girl and anyone can see how much you love each other. Don't tell me you haven't thought about it.”

She narrows her eyes, prepared to scold him if he says anything that doesn't align with her wish to have you join the family.

“We've talked about… stuff.” Eren blushes profusely at the end, which only causes Carla's giddiness to skyrocket. Her image on the screen is more of a girl friend squealing over crushes than that of a mother conversing with her son.

“Mom,” Eren whines again, though his lips curve into a grin. “Relax. We've got a long way to go. Moving in is just… it makes sense for us, right now.” He smiles. “And we're taking things slow, okay? Give me a few more months and I'll call you from Vegas.”

“Eren Jaeger, if you elope, I swear–”

She's cut off by Eren's laughter.

“Relax,” he repeats, holding his hands up in defense as if Carla could slap him through the screen. “But to keep you at ease… it's in our plans. Just give us time.”

It's been seven minutes since you've stepped back into your office building, and ten since you stepped out of it the first time, only to not spot Eren's car waiting for you.

It's unlike him to be late unless he's behind on work. But as far as you know, he asked for a couple days off, so it wouldn't make sense to say that's it.

The building is empty, save for the security guard who's doing a final sweep of the floors before locking up. It's only a matter of minutes before they return to find you back inside the lobby.

You pull out your phone from your jacket pocket. No missed calls, no new messages.

It's been twelve minutes now.

You press the call button beside Eren's name and press the phone to your ear.

The line is busy.

Frowning, you try again.

He picks up on the first ring. A breath of relief escapes your lips when you hear his voice.

“I know, I know. I lost track of time. I'm on my way, don't worry,” Eren's strained voice comes through your phone's speaker as you can only assume he's rushing around his apartment in search of his essentials for going out.

You smile sympathetically as you adjust the strap of your bag on your shoulder. With a quick glance at the time, and seeing that the security guard is already stepping into the lobby once more, twirling the keys around on finger, you decide to relieve Eren of his self-imposed duty.

“Relax, it's okay. Just stay there, I'll take the bus,” you reply with nonchalance.

You sense a bit of hesitation on his end. On the other side of the line, Eren is torn between finishing up dinner or going to pick you up. He still hasn't showered, and it would break the flow of the evening if he disappeared to do so after bringing you home to the spread he's so close to completing. The oven timer still has a handful of minutes to go and it's messing with his rationality.

“Eren?”

Your voice grounds him.

“I can be there in fifteen. I just gotta… um… finish something here and…”

You smile. He can't see it, but he hears it in your voice when you reply.

“It's fine, really. I can catch the next bus,” you reassure him, glancing at your watch and mentally calculating the minutes you have to reach the bus stop. “Just stay there.”

A few seconds go by before Eren speaks again, still in limbo for his decision.

“You got your taser on you?”

You smile, already knowing he would ask that, and you pat the device over your jacket pocket as if he could see you.

“Of course.”

He sighs, but gives in.

“Okay, but call me when you're close, yeah?”

You agree as you begin walking in direction to the bus stop.

Your hand fiddles nervously with the strap of your bag as you hear more rustling on his end, likely made by his jacket which you can imagine being thrown back onto the sofa before he returns to whatever it was that kept him busy before your call.

“Eren?”

“Yeah?”

“Remember this morning? When you said you had news?”

You can hear Eren's smile in his hummed reply as a timer goes off faintly in the background, which he hurries to stop. The beeping ceases and you giggle to yourself as you start to piece together what's going on.

You decide to play the oblivious card anyway as you finish walking the first of four blocks to the bus stop.

“Sorry,” Eren murmurs. “You were saying?”

A fluttering sensation stirs in your stomach as you take a deep breath. Your voice comes out as soft as always, but with a tinge of shyness that only Eren can pick up on.

“Just… I have something I want to tell you, too.”

Eren doesn't know why, but your measured words cause his entire body to warm.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, gently chewing on your bottom lip as you hug your jacket tighter around your stomach. “I'll tell you when I get there okay?”

He smiles.

“Okay.”

“I love you. I really, really love you, Eren Jaeger.”

An airy laugh comes through the speaker as he voices your full name in the same loving manner.

“I love you more. I really, really love you.”

“I'll see you soon.”

It's been fifteen minutes since Eren got out of the shower, twenty-five since he finished fixing dinner, and thirty-three since your call ended.

You should be walking through the door any minute.

Eren lights the candles at the center of the table, humming a nonsensical tune to himself as his giddiness only amplifies and he can practically hear you jiggling your key in the door, swinging it open to his carefully crafted romantic view.

There's a low, square gift box at your end of the table, tied with a satin ribbon, guarding print copies of the photos from an apartment you'll meet the next day. He can picture you looking up at him in confusion and he'll be wearing the biggest smile on his face and the sweatiest hands when he asks you to live together.

He sits down, pulling out his phone to swipe through the copies of the photos on his phone one last time. With each picture of an empty space, he can vividly imagine where your books would go, where he'll place the sofa that he'll tackle you with kisses on, the kitchen where you'll watch him cook and he'll watch you bake, the window where you'll sit, curled into a blanket in the winter with a mug of tea nursed in your hands.

His heart beats erratically at his own imagination.

He taps on his messages, checking for any indication that you might be close. But perhaps it's better if you don't get distracted by texting or calling him. And it makes for the most pleasant butterflies to stir even wilder in his stomach at the anticipation.

He sets his phone down, tapping anxiously on the table.

Any minute, you'll be there. Any minute, you'll see the photos. Any minute, he'll kiss you and tell you how much he loves you. Any minute, you'll be over the moon, jumping up to join his daydreams on how to fill the place you'll share. Any minute now, things will fall into place and life will be perfect.

Any minute now. Any minute.

On a relatively quiet alley, at the half point between an office building and a bus stop, where nobody has shown concern to surveil, a broken angel wing cast in silver lays on the ground.

It's too small and too far to catch the light from the street lamp on the main street, but it lies there, hidden in shadows, broken and dirty, its original perfectly crafted form lost forever.

But the thing about perfection is that it doesn’t truly exist.

Previous chapter | Next chapter (tba)

Minors and ageless blogs who interact will be blocked

Notes: Tunnel Vision will be going on a brief hiatus. If you are a strings fan thinking history is repeating itself, worry not! I WILL be coming back to this series in a couple weeks. I’m afraid I burned myself out by pumping out so many chapters in such a short time and I don’t want to half-ass this series. Tunnel Vision will be back! I’ll add a tba date to the chapter guide once I start writing for this series again. In the meantime, thank you for the support and feel free to slip into my ask box :)

Chapter guide | Masterlist | Navigation

taglist: @erenjaegerwifee @youatemylollipop @okaystopwhore @bakuhoethotski @f4irygard3n @saybeyonce @indeedbooks15

#aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #eren yeager x reader #aot x reader #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #snk x reader #eren jaeger fanfiction #eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger x y/n #eren jaeger fluff #eren yeager fanfiction #eren yeager smut #eren yeager x you #eren yeager x y/n #eren jaeger x you

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swampstew · 5 months

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Captain_CumShot - Chapter 2

Welcome to Raven's Reading Nook - a small corner of this blog dedicated to cozy story times. Take a seat on the chaise lounge, plug your electronic device in so you can enjoy this multi-chapter, full blown smut story. The Captain is the snack and sadly, I have nothing to offer to soothe the yearning. As always, links to Wattpad and AO3 at the bottom. Enjoy, from your favorite loyal, cabin hoe♥

Summary: You treated yourself to a tier upgrade😘

Minors DNI you will be blocked - for adult audiences only.

Admin: Thanks for upgrading your subscription to Tier III! The Captain will want to thank you personally ~ drop your next available hour slot and we’ll set it up.

You: 10 PM

Admin: Talk to you soon ~

10:00 PM

Captain: Hey doll. I’ve seen your likes and comments around here for a while and I’m chuffed that you finally upgraded. What changed?

You: Truthfully, I challenged myself to save up so I can really treat myself when I felt I needed it. Especially after the last year and four months at work.

Captain:…

Captain: You waited ONE YEAR and FOUR MONTHS before you felt like you needed a break?

Captain: I’m flattered you’ve chosen me as your reward but gat damn girl. You need to treat yourself more often.

Captain: What the hell do you do for a job??

You: I’m an accountant at a small but valued firm, so we’re kind of just always busy! Especially at tax time which is ALMOST over. So I spoiled myself a few days early.

Captain: Congratulations ~ Do you work in a stuffy office with a buncha dorks?

You: Well I wouldn’t say dorks and it’s not a closet! I work in an office building with maybe less than 50 other people. I have a corner office so yay for small wins!

Captain: Aye that’s the least they can do fer’ya!

Captain: Do they make you dress business professional like you’re gonna meet the president every day or is it a normal place that lets you dress like a human being?

You: Haha, nothing so refined. Business casual for the most part, Fridays we can wear jeans, and sometimes during the seasons they’ll do a morale boosting themed clothes week thing.

Captain: 🤔

Captain: Does anyone enjoy that?

You: Some do, some don’t. The bosses buy a big lunch spread though so it’s not all bad.

Captain: Tell me, are the morale boosting bits mandatory?

You: You’re not required to dress up. They don’t technically say you have to be at the luncheon but they do have someone sweep the desks to make sure no one is still working. I think they legitimately think they’re providing a “break” for us but like, a paid lunch hour would be a thousand times better.

Captain: Bet.

Captain: You ever skipped it all together? Just said fuck it and hid on the roof to scroll on your phone and eat lunch?

You: Sometimes my car! We have a secure parking garage and its air conditioned so it’s quiet and not boiling hot.

Captain: Hooray for small victories.

Captain: Have you ever gotten uncomfortably turned on enough that you’ve escaped to your car to get relief?

You: 😳

You: Maybe once or twice. I’m always afraid of getting caught.

Captain: I’d make sure we wouldn’t.

Captain: See I personally fucking hate it when instead of just paying people more, employers make their people do a whole dog and pony show. Leave people alone!

Captain: This is literally a crime.

Captain: If you’d let me, I’d come and save you from those stupid lunches.

You: 🤔

You: I wouldn’t hate that!

You: Not sure you could pull it off though, you would garner a lot of attention just from standing, you’re just that attractive 👉👈🥺

Captain: Relax, I’m nothing if not professional. Want to hear my grand scheme that I cooked up, just now?

You: Oh go right ahead!

Captain: I’d start by doing research into your company and get the lunch reservation details of these luncheons. I would then pose as an employee dropping off the food order/doing set up and while everyone is gathering, I would linger a little, totally incognito, and slip out to find your office if you haven’t already entered the room.

Captain: Should I continue? I’m really proud of this scheme actually.

You: Please, I wonder how you plan to get away scot-free and not get me fired!

Captain: You’d not only get fired – you’d get off, repeatedly and it would be a seasonal thing cause I’d never get caught. I think it would be a professional bonus because then you’ll be so satisfied at work, you might even get a promotion or pay raise or some shit😏

You: This I gotta hear

Captain: Where was I?

Captain: Just kidding

Captain: I would then smuggle you to the parking garage under the guise that you’re my ‘job equipment’ or whatever, and then, I’d take you to your car. Ideally, I can convince you to get in the van I rented as part of my infiltration disguise so I can actually sit and stand without breaking my neck. The windows are blacked out, I keep anchors and blocks on the wheels to keep it stable, and then I rock your fucking world.

Captain: Still with me?

You: I am

Captain: You’re probably thinking, ‘but if you’re as beastly as I think you are, won’t I be screaming my brains out?’

You: I was!

Captain: As a professional content creator – amongst other trades – I know a thing or two about sound proofing. There’s always a gag if you’re into that.

You: I could be persuaded…

Captain: I have a lot of things I’d like to persuade you to do in there.

Captain: Do you normally participate in the themed clothes or do you keep it professional?

You: I don’t usually, not really my thing.

Captain: I see.

Captain: Back to my scheme ~

Captain: After I’ve successfully fooled everyone and have you in my clutches, I’d take you to my van where you can have a lunch break actually worth attending.

Captain: I would first take off my disguise and reveal that it was me all along! After you get over your initial surprise, I’d ask you what you’re hungry for.

You: Oh I get options?

Captain: Hell yeah doll. Your choices can range anywhere from a quick snack to a mega meal.

You: Do the options change too?

Captain: I don’t believe in constraints. Unless they’re kink-related.

Captain: I think since you’re the kind of doll that doesn’t splurge too much on ‘erself, I’d start you off with a ‘left no crumbs.’

Captain: What that entails is me, sitting you all pretty like on a seat cushion, starting ngwith something soft and sweet. Kisses up the arm, on the neck, slow, building up anticipation. I’d tease you over your clothes, petting your kitten until I feel your wetness through the fabric.

Captain: Pepper your body with kisses and bites to keep you on edge. When I have you down to just your undergarments, I’d sit you in my lap. Spread your thighs open. Start rubbing your pussy until you’re leaking all over my hand. I’ll let you have a quick orgasm, a small and sweet one. But don’t think we’re done.

Captain: I might take my pants off to feel you a bit better. Push you down on my hard-on as I wrap an arm around your waist to keep you still. I’ll use my free hand to play with your pussy again. Rubbing you, flicking you, lightly smacking you, rubbing your clit, finger fucking you. Rub my big dick against your trembling body to make you even more sensitive.

Captain: Since you only have an hour, I’ll make sure you look presentable before you go back to the office. Where you can spend the rest of the day sitting in the mess I’m going to leave. How does that make you feel?

You: I’m…speechless, in a good way…Shit that’s really hot. It makes me feel devious, a bit dirty, like I really want to do it.

Captain: Damn and I haven’t even finished telling you what’s included in your lunch?

You: 🤐

You: Please forgive me

Captain: I could never stay mad at you doll.

Captain: As I was saying ~

Captain: I can’t let you leave your break without feeling fully satisfied.

Captain: Before you go, I’d spend some time with you against the van wall. If you’re into it, I can use rope to help keep you standing. I encourage it, you’re gonna need it.

You: I’m into it, I’m into it 🤤

Captain: Heh. Freak.

Captain: I’d keep you still and propped up, putting your blouse on, keeping my lipstick stains and bites hidden underneath. I’d pull your panties and bottoms over your ankles, slide your soaked underwear up your thighs…

Captain: And give you dessert.

You: What am I having??!

Captain: Me.

Captain: I’d pull your panties up your thighs but not put them on entirely. Leaving them maybe a few inches from your twitching pussy. Then I’d finally let you see my cock.

Captain: Do you want to touch it?

You: Yesss🥺please let me touch.

Captain: Don’t worry you’ll be feeling it.

Captain: I’ll prod my cock against your clit, slide it up and down your puffy lips, maybe push in a little bit.

Captain: After I get it nice and wet with you, I’d stand in front of you and fuck your body. I won’t go in in, I’ll slide in between your desperate lips, make you clench over my cock with your needy pussy, I’ll hit your delicious ass cheeks, pull back out and rub against your clit until you’re crying.

You: Oh my fucking god.

Captain: I’m not done.

Captain: While I do this, I’ll rub my thumb down on your clit, and I won’t stop until you’ve cum over my cock, frustrated yet relieved.

Captain: But don’t be disappointed just yet because the next part is my favorite part.

Captain: As you’re coming down from your orgasm, I’ll finish myself off. Jerking myself in front of you and finishing right on your cunt.

You: 🥵

Captain: Yeah.

Captain: I’d milk my length to cover you, watching it drip from your vulva and trembling lips down to your underwear and thighs. Whatever falls further down I’d wipe with my thumb and make you lick it off.

Captain: Then I’ll pull your panties up nice and high, make sure they sit on your hips just right, don’t want any of me to spill out. For good measure, I might even rub your underwear against you some just to smear it in you some more.

Captain: I love cum play.

Captain: I’ll pull up your bottoms, wipe your tears, and send you away with a kiss on the cheek and a slap on the ass.

Captain: How does that sound doll?

You: I would fucking die!!! I want this so bad fuck why would you DO THAT TO ME?!?🥵🤤 FUCK! You’re so hot, all I want is to touch you and be touched by you😩

Captain: Are you touching yourself?

You: If I said yes?🥺

Captain: I’d say me too. Check out the photo gallery later, you’ll see the load I blew for ya😘

Captain: Glad to add you to my harem of Cabin Hoes. I’m not supposed to have favorites, but I think I’m gonna grow fond of you.

Captain: G’night doll. Thanks for subscribing😘

Leave a vote/kudos/like to tip OR hit bookmark/add to reading list/reblog to subscribe.

#eustass kid #Captain_CumShot #onlyfans fanfic #firstmatesimp #one piece fanfiction #eustass kid smut #one piece eustass kid #ao3 author #wattpad author #eustasscaptainkid #kid pirates #swampstew stories #swampstew

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seblaineworld · 2 months

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Hey, Seblainers! Hellooooo, everyone else!

10 Days Of Seblaine 2024

26 days to go, so without further ado, here's what you need to know:

The Rules

When?

The event runs from Monday, 26th August until 23:59 (of your own timezone) on Wednesday, 4th September 2024.

Who can take part?

Anyone and everyone who shares our love of Seblaine!

What can we submit?

Anything, as long as it is Seblaine-related! Fics, Graphics, Gifs, Gifsets, Videos, Manips, Playlists, Lyrics - anything you like as long as it fits the themes! I'm looking forward to seeing what everyone comes up with.

Please remember to use #seblaineworld and #10daysofseblaine2024 within the first five tags, and also put @seblaineworld in your posts, since we all know just how flaky Tumblr can be about tags!

Be sensible and considerate. We are all well aware that not everyone shares our love of Seblaine, and even within our own tiny (but always fierce!) Seblainer Fandom, there are those who don't enjoy mature content, so please ensure you tag everything you submit, appropriately.

Can I cross-post/combine themes?

Yes! You can combine any of the themes that you want. And if your contribution does combine multiple themes, you can post on whichever day you prefer. Just remember, if your contribution covers one or more themes, then properly tag all days, regardless of which day you actually post on.

Do I need to submit something for every day?

Absolutely not. If you want to contribute something for every day, then of course you can, but it's not a requirement at all. I know everyone has busy lives, so just do what you can when you can.

Can I post a WIP or work if it fits the themes, even if I started it weeks/months/years before the Seblaine Week 2024 announcement?

Absolutely! Your Admin has done this before and feels it's a great way to refresh creativity and blow the cobwebs off that piece you just KNOW you'll finish one day, but never quite seem to have the time. So feel free to post anything you've already started - providing it fits one of the themes!

On that note, do remember that the free day is exactly that. A day on which you can write about/create for, any theme you like! Did your favourite theme just narrowly miss out on being in the top 10? If so, here's your chance to do something about it and make a submission using that theme!

When do we start posting?

As soon as it becomes Monday 26th August in your own timezone, post your work to your Tumblr blog, and as mentioned above, please tag it #seblaineworld and #10daysofseblaine2024 then make sure those two are in your first five tags. Please also put @seblaineworld somewhere in your post.

If you're going to be posting your work to another site like AO3 or ff.net, post a properly tagged link on your Tumblr.

A 10 Days Of Seblaine 2024 collection will be added to AO3.

Can I post early?

Sorry, no. 🙃 Tumblr, however, does let you schedule posts so you can schedule the post for the right day, even if you're not going to be around that day. Of course this gets a little harder to navigate if you’re also posting to another site like AO3/ff.net, so if this is going to be a problem, let me know and I'll figure it out.

Can I post late?

Yes! I know how time can occasionally run away from us all, so as long as everything is tagged properly you can post (for example) your day 3 piece on day 7 and that won't be a problem. Everything posted will be reblogged until Friday, September 27th.

You haven't reblogged my work yet!

No problem! Again, because Tumblr can be (very!) erratic, just send me an Ask or message if I haven't reblogged your work within 24 hours of you posting it, and I will get onto it right away.

So, that's it for now! I'm excited to see all your work, and I hope you'll join me for our second bumper celebration of Seblaine. Just drop me an Ask or message if you have a question that's not addressed here, and I'll see you all on the 26th!

Ail 💜

#seblaine #10 days of seblaine 2024 #seblaineworld #blaine anderson #sebastian smythe #seblainer events #please share and reblog!#The Rules!

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mariequitecontrary · 2 months

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2024 TF Reverse Mini Bang Memories Part 2

Link to Part 1! I am sharing just a few of my favorite memories of the @tf-bigbang

Let's keep going!

DREAM TEAM 66

The moment I saw @spashahoney's sketch, Team 66 LAUNCHED to the top of my list. I am so lucky to have been matched up with her as my partner!! She is funny, creative, encouraging, and I loved when we fed off each other's energy! I am truly proud of what we created and sincerely hope we continue to work together in the future <3

It was very fun knowing I wanted to partner with her even when I wasn't allowed to say XD

We were a dream team from the start and I'm not afraid to brag about this fact.

We were so chaotic and I had so much fun bouncing around with her talking transformers and about her concept for our collab!

I was also so, so very wrong about how much I planned to write for this fic XD

Either way, we adored what we both had made!

It's also SO TERRIFYING to even think about someone watching you while you write a fic based off of their art XD

It was VERY FUN and I adore my artist <3

Do I completely blame her for my new Optimus/Rodimus obsession? YES.

#BOBACULT

I bought...so much more boba than I usually do because of these people XD Boba Bthursdays and Bubble Tea Fridays birthed an ongoing boba addiction in me that I'm not trying all that hard to fix XD

Getting back into rping! Most importantly starting to rp transformers! I've always been a big fan of collaborative storytelling through roleplay, so am always DELIGHTED to find rp partners to play with <3

I had to pause because of vacations and the bang deadline, but I can't wait to get back into it!

500 Word Writer Awards

We were challenged to write 500 words for a secret prize and suddenly every last block I felt that was preventing me from starting to write DISAPPEARED. I wrote 632 words and suddenly felt like I could do this🙂

I'm very proud of this reward and am keeping it forever.

I'm Easily Baited with Prizes

That was the start of something I kinda knew but FULLY REALIZED over the past few months...that I am so, so, so easily motivated with prizes. It takes minimal effort on the prize giver's part. All it has to be is something you took the time to provide for me and say its mine and suddenly I DRIVEN to complete whatever task is set before me XD

It's pathetic really. But also here are my prizes look at them I worked so hard for them be proud of meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!

DO YOU LIKE THEM I WORKED SO HARD FOR THEM! *bright eyes and wags tail*

Friends <3

I made so many friends! Friends to brainstorm with, an ao3 moot, a friend I've entered into a blood pact with, friends I've written together with a sprinting bot, friends to rp with, friends to talk about space robots with and anything under the sun :) I cherish them all so so so much <3

The Great Cicada War

But my friends bullied me :( They witnessed me dealing with probably the most harrowing part of the year...cicada season.

Time of My Life

I hadn't had this much fun in an online community...in a while. The past four months contain precious memories and friendships made that I'll treasure forever.

To the mods, thank you so much for hosting such a fun event! You all put so much work into making this special for us and I couldn't be more grateful to have been a part of this.

To all my new friends, thank you for welcoming me into this space and making me feel like I'm a real part of this fandom! Thank you for being kind and encouraging me when I was down and struggling, and thank you for uplifting and cheering me on when I was proud and succeeding. May inspiration always come easily to you.

Thanks for all the memories! I'll see you soon :)

#mariequitecontrary posts #transformers #transformers big bang #tf big bang #tf big bang 2024

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anamazingangie · 1 year

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This is mostly for my discord server but i'll post it here too, I guess! I'm hosting my first ever ‘event’ called Summer Snippets & Stories that will run through July.

Every weekday, starting Monday, July 3rd and ending Friday, July 28th, I’ll be posting a word prompt a day. You can use any tense or participle of the day's word — so if the prompt is cloud, cloudy, or clouded would be perfectly acceptable, too.

That’s all you really need to know. The word will hopefully serve as a source of inspiration for a sentence or snippet that can be posted on whatever platform you prefer.

I love the flexibility of single word prompts, but I know that isn’t always enough to inspire someone — so I’ll also be posting sentence starters and story prompts that utilize that day's word that can hopefully provide you with more ideas or something to build off of.

The goal with this is to get people in the writing spirit and provide something motivating enough to follow along with, but flexible enough that you can adapt it to your routine and the time you have available. If you write a sentence, or a paragraph, that’s perfectly fine —you still wrote something!

If you get a one shot out of it, or a multi-chapter story, or something you want to expand on later when you have more time, that’s also great! You can share links in the appropriate channels on the discord server (where this is being primarily being hosted) and/or add your story to the Ao3 collection if it’s House of the Dragon related.

The collection will be open until the end of August. ALL HotD pairings are welcome. There is no word minimum or maximum required to be added to the collection.

Collection link.

I’ll likely be posting my own snippets here using the hashtag #HotDaemyraSummer in case anyone else would like to do the same.

Also feel free to use these prompts for any fandom or pairing on any platform, I certainly don’t own them, but if you’d toss a bit of credit in the notes if they serve as inspiration that would be nice! :)

My ask box is open if you have questions or would like an invite to my server!

The written prompt list is below the cut for ease of copy pasting and clarity.

Week One:

Tension / Related Post

Reflection / Related Post

Storm / Related Post

Sparkle / Related Post

Cloud / Related Post

Week Two:

Shield / Related Post

Stitch / Related Post

Burn / Related Post

Blood / Related Post

Haunt / Related Post

Week Three:

Rough / Related Post

Silk / Related Post

Wing / Related Post

Gift / Related Post

Ink / Related Post

Week Four:

Signature / Related Post

Investment / Related Post

Squeeze / Related Post

Swallow / Related Post

Peak / Related Post

#summer prompts #prompt challenge #house of the dragon #hotd #hbo #daemyra #daemon x rhaenyra #ship friendly #ao3 #writers #writing prompts #word prompts #hotdaemyra #hotdaemyra discord #HotDaemyraSummer

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indeedcaptain · 10 months

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Regulatory Relations, chapter 7: The Dreamer

Hello! Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate and happy Friday to those who don't! SOME VERY IMPORTANT LINKS HERE:

First off, there's fucking fan art of one of the chapter 6 scenes here. It's amazing. It's wild. I'm never going to get over it. Thank you @notthatkindaboy!!

Second, there's a playlist. I wish 8tracks was still alive because Spotify simply doesn't have the same vibes, but, alas. If anyone else would like it, it is here. :)

Third, like normal, this is posted on AO3 here!

☆☆☆

Kirk sat in his chair on the bridge and compulsively read and reread the simple missive he had drafted. Spock had read the first version earlier that morning when Kirk pounded on his door thirty minutes before they normally departed for breakfast. He had opened the door in surprise, still in his robes and smelling faintly of incense, before taking the padd, skimming the message, and cutting out nearly all of Kirk’s overwordy explanation and justification until just the invitation remained. “I recommend only providing the information that matters, captain,” he had said, but he had left Kirk’s sole creative indulgence in the message. Bones had read the shortened version over breakfast and just shook his head, smiling ruefully at Kirk, before handing it back as “more than good enough, Jimmy.” Uhura had read it in the first five minutes of alpha shift and messaged back, “Thank you for keeping him with us” and a winking emoticon, but no feedback. It seemed that it was as good as it was going to get.

He set the padd down and drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. He wanted the bridge crew to find out from him, not from the message to the whole ship. He owed them that. They had become his family sometime between first takeoff and the edge of Federation space, and theirs were the only opinions that he truly cared about. His breath caught in his throat every time he thought about making the announcement, but then Bones came up to harass Spock about avoiding his yearly physical and Scotty stopped by to talk to Chekov, and he wasn’t going to get a better moment than this one.

Scotty patted Chekov on the shoulder and said, “Aye, good lad,” before turning to the turbolift to depart. Kirk’s mouth moved before his brain had caught up and said, “Scotty, stay for a moment, would you?”

“Of course, captain,” Scotty said, immediately rocking onto the balls of his feet. Kirk turned over his shoulder to where his two best friends were bickering and found Spock’s eyes. God, they were really doing this. This moment, with so many of the people he loved desperately in one room, could have been one of the last that they were all together. He could have been counting down every minute, every second, hoarding every memory of Spock at his side until he was gone. But instead they were going to get married so that Spock could stay, and in a year this would just be another moment on the longest continuum of happiness he had ever experienced. His heart clenched as he looked around at his friends again before his gaze landed on Spock, the Vulcan with the tiny, knowing smile, and he knew he was making the right choice. No stranger on a starbase could ever compare.

Kirk grinned crookedly at Spock, and shrugged. Spock understood him immediately, as he always did, and nodded to Bones before coming to stand next to Kirk’s chair. Kirk shifted in his seat and looked up at him, asking permission. Spock leaned against the side of the chair, draped his arm across the back of it, and laid his hand over Kirk’s forearm, right over the command stripes on his sleeve. Well, that was about as clear an answer as he could have gotten.

“As some of you know,” Kirk said, clearing his throat and looking at Scotty first, then the others, “for the past few weeks, the admiralty has been attempting to recruit Mr. Spock to a new position. The captain’s position on a science vessel, to be precise.” Sulu spun around to look up at Spock from his seat, horror dawning on his face. His eyes immediately snagged on Spock’s hand. “However, Mr. Spock does not want it. He tried to reject the promotion. The admiralty made it clear that they were not going to take no for an answer, and, in fact, are going to meet us on Starbase 27 to talk to him about it. But…” Kirk inhaled deeply and clenched his hands into fists to hide their trembling. Spock pressed down gently against his forearm. “We…” The bridge was silent around him but for the gentle murmuring of machinery, every eye on him. He looked up at Spock, all his carefully planned words abandoning him. He wished he had stood up to do this. He had for so long tried to be the captain his crew deserved, refusing to bring anything too personal about himself to the bridge, and now he was going to lie to his crew and discuss his marital status in one breath?

“Starfleet regulations prohibit the separation of legally married couples,” Spock said, sliding his hand up Kirk’s forearm. “We wished to share with you now that the captain and I are in a relationship, and we are going to be wed with all possible expediency to prevent my forced removal from the ship.”

There was silence on the bridge. Kirk tried to inhale, fighting the corseting of his ribcage freezing around his lungs. Bones hesitated by the banister and looked to Uhura. Spock’s palm seared a brand into Kirk’s arm. It anchored him to his chair. Even the beeping of the consoles in front of him seemed to slow as the milliseconds stretched like molasses between what was before and what was after.

Sulu whooped. He tilted his head back with a smile, and his joyous shout broke the tension. The crew surged towards Kirk and Spock, voices rising, motion vibrating from every corner. Sulu stood and grabbed Kirk’s hand, pumping it vigorously and pulling Kirk to his feet, as Chekov pounded his console with an open palm and beamed. Uhura sidled up to Spock and took his arm. Scotty waited for Sulu to release Kirk’s hand before stepping in and pulling him into a brief, brusque hug. He released Kirk, grasping his shoulders, and said earnestly, “Ach, Captain, we’re all just so happy for you.” He turned to Spock, beaming, as Chekov shook Kirk’s hand, grinning madly. Everyone shouted over each other, talking to Kirk, talking to Spock, badgering Bones and Uhura for not being surprised, and the raucous din of excitement smoothed the sharp edges of Kirk’s worry. As Scotty interrogated Spock about their relationship and Kirk listened with growing amusement as Spock bald-faced lied about the past three years, he thought, for the first time, that he might have done his crew--- his friends--- a disservice. Their reaction to Spock’s announcement was so joyful, so immediate and eager… maybe it would have been okay to bring more of himself to the bridge. Maybe it was okay to show that, behind the Starfleet posterboy and the captain’s facade, there was just a man. Maybe the man wouldn’t have been a burden to them.

Spock stood at his shoulder, but instead of leaving a respectable six inches between them as he had for years, his chest brushed Kirk’s shoulder. Kirk leaned against him and blinked in surprise as Spock’s hand crept along his back to wrap around his hip, a possessive and unhesitating grip. Chekov and Sulu leaned against the console in front of them, both grinning shamelessly, and Kirk saw Chekov note Spock’s hand and elbow Sulu about it.

“We still need to send word to the crew,” Kirk realized suddenly, after half an hour of basking in the glow of the bridge crew’s response.

“When’s the big day, captain?” Scotty asked.

“Two days from now, after alpha shift,” Kirk said. “We were thinking of doing it in the observatory.”

“Mr. Scott, as the captain and I will be the participants, you will be the ranking officer,” Spock said. When he turned his head to address the engineer, Kirk felt his breath breeze past his temple, and he fought the urge to shiver. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had been so close to him intentionally. He could feel Spock’s steady breathing through their contact.

Spock waited, staring at Scotty intently. Kirk looked between them until Spock’s meaning became apparent, and he grinned. Scotty tilted his head.

“Aye, Mr. Spock?”

“That would leave you with the responsibility to officiate.”

For a second, Scotty’s face went entirely blank as he stared at Kirk and Spock. Then the widest smile Kirk had ever seen from him spread across his face and the Scotsman said, “Gentlemen, it would be my honor.” The excited chatter continued, and Kirk took the opportunity to reclaim his abandoned padd from his chair. He skimmed the wedding announcement one more time.

To the crew of the Enterprise:

It is our deepest honor to invite you to attend the wedding of Captain James Tiberius Kirk and Commander S’chn T’gai Spock on Stardate 2721.2, 1900 hours.

The ceremony will take place in Observatory A, with a reception in the crew mess to follow. Please consult your department head for shift changes and an updated schedule for the evening.

Ad astra per amorem.

Captain Kirk and Commander Spock

“Any last changes?” Kirk asked Spock quietly, holding the padd up.

“None, captain,” Spock said, and his hand still rested at Kirk’s hip, holding Kirk against him. There was a small, scared, tired, habitual part of his brain that told Kirk that he should step away and stand on his own, but there was a new part, one maybe a little louder than his fear, that asked why. Why should he refuse something that felt nice, dishonor Spock’s effort and commitment to their plan, just because he didn’t need it?

Kirk leaned more firmly against Spock, who adjusted his grip but did not let go, and he hit send.

☆☆☆

When Sulu spent the next two hours with one hand on the console and the other playing hangman with Chekov, and Scotty never went back to Engineering in favor of chatting with Bones, Kirk realized that he probably should have foreseen a complete drop in productivity on the bridge after their big announcement. It felt like the holidays had come early.

They were flying through nearly empty space, anyway--- there wasn’t that much to do. Kirk stood and stretched before meandering to Uhura’s station and squatting next to her console. She was flicking idly through the pages of a linguistics article on one padd and checking occasionally on a graph of growth on another.

“What are you looking at?” Kirk asked, and he kept his voice low, beneath the hum of chatter behind them. Uhura immediately abandoned the linguistics padd and pulled the graph one towards herself.

“Subspace usage after your little message, sir,” she said, and her eyes twinkled with mirth. She pointed to a tiny nub at the bottom of the graph. “This is your message.” Then she pointed to the first exponential spike. “And this is the immediate reaction after that message.”

“Hot damn,” he said quietly. The spike peaked shortly after his message, but it dropped slowly, as if people held conversations after the original outcry. Uhura tapped her fingers lightly along the edge of the padd.

“Captain,” she said slowly. “Are you truly so surprised?”

“After a few days, not so much about the crew reaction,” he said. “We had set out to make people talk. That was the goal. What I found most surprising was how readily we were believed. And that people already believed it… our relationship… to be real.”

Uhura laughed at that, but her laughter trickled away as she saw the seriousness on Kirk’s face. “You really didn’t know, captain?”

“No,” he said honestly. “Why did people think that? It’s valuable now, because it helps Spock stay, but…”

“Spock showed you the nurses’ chart, right?”

“He explained it to me, yeah.” Uhura scanned his face, and sighed quietly through her nose at whatever she saw on it.

“Imagine that you’re a nurse working on a starship, and one of the highest ranking officers is a Vulcan and galaxy-wide levels of famous for being unsentimental. Then imagine you work a night shift after a particularly ugly away mission and find that self-same officer sitting vigil, all night, next to the only man he has ever called a friend. Then he does not leave until it is clear that his friend is going to recover. And it happens over and over again. Wouldn’t you think that was something special?”

Speechless, Kirk looked over at Spock, hunched over his sensors. His shirt stretched over his back, revealing the breadth of his shoulders, the points of his shoulder blades, the length of his spine. He inhaled, turning back to Uhura, but she continued, “You know the security officers always talk about missions in the mess afterwards.”

“Yes,” Kirk said uneasily.

“They tell stories about how frequently you two jump in front of weapons, fire, man-eating plants, what have you, for each other. They have an unofficial protocol called ‘the Spock rule.’”

“The…?”

“The Spock rule is that, if he is on a mission with you, they know that he’s going to be where you are. It changes how they position themselves in hostile situations.”

“That’s…” Kirk trailed off. He knew how he and Spock were. He knew that he had put himself in harm’s way to protect Spock more than once, and he would do it again. And he knew that Spock protected him. He just hadn’t ever considered how it might look to other people.

“That’s something special,” Uhura said firmly. “And those are only the dangerous things! To say nothing of the seemingly infinite number of chess matches and breakfasts! Goodness, captain, it’s a miracle that there was anyone left on the ship to convince.”

Kirk opened his mouth to protest, and then shut it again. He looked back at Spock again, whose green-flushed ears gave away the fact that he was absolutely eavesdropping on their hushed conversation, and back to Uhura. Then he frowned.

“If you knew all this, why did you let me and Spock run with this whole plan?”

“You were just having so much fun,” she said easily, and turned back to her still-updating graph and linguistics paper. Kirk gaped at her and, recognizing the clear dismissal, left her to bother Spock instead.

“Well, what did you think?”

“I thought it went well, captain,” Spock said, and finally relinquished his hold on his sensor to turn and lean against his console next to Kirk, looking over the relaxed bridge crew. Sulu had set the auto-navigation on and had turned entirely to some sort of complicated hand and card game with Chekov, who seemed to be winning. Scotty and Bones were bent over the schematics of Bones’s least favorite biobed, which was constantly on the fritz and gave all the Medbay staff heart palpitations. “I am curious to see how the rest of the crew reacts to the news.”

“Uhura showed me a graph,” Kirk said. “We’re a hot topic of conversation.”

“I do not doubt it,” Spock said. “A marriage between two officers is not a frequent occurrence.”

“Did you hear all that she told me?”

Spock paused, just a fraction of a second, and said, “I did.”

“And what did you think of that?”

“I did not know that the protocol had a name, but I had noticed that the security team used different formations when both of us were present on away missions. I did not realize that it was a direct result of my behavior.”

“I had never noticed it,” Kirk admitted. “I mean, I know that you and I are always together. I just… I didn’t realize how it impacted others.”

“Once Nyota explained their reasoning, it seemed like a reasonably logical belief to me,” Spock said. Kirk crossed his arms and nodded. It did make a certain amount of sense--- he couldn’t blame them for the assumptions. They stood side by side, talking to Scotty and Bones, until Sulu and Chekov insisted that they join their game. Spock listened politely to the instructions before arguing with Chekov about them and made everyone laugh, and the rest of their shift passed in a pleasant hum.

When the beta shift crew arrived, they stole nervous glances at Spock and Kirk, smiling all the while.

“You’re relieved, sir,” Lieutenant Karros said, a young woman that Kirk thought had leadership potential.

“Thank you, lieutenant,” he said, and nodded to her as he passed.

“Sir,” she said, and looked between him and Spock and smiled shyly at him. “Captain. And Commander. Congratulations.”

“Thank you, lieutenant,” he said again, and smiled back at her. “Much appreciated.” The rest of the relief crew chorused their congratulations as well, now that Karros had broken the initial ice of addressing a superior officer and Kirk raised his voice to thank them all. He was still grinning when the turbolift doors closed behind them.

☆☆☆

Something in the hallway leading to the mess was different when they stepped out. Kirk froze in the hallway, the hairs on the back of his neck lifting as he subconsciously noticed the change, and Spock halted next to him. He gazed around, unbothered, before looking down at Kirk. Then Kirk’s eyes caught up to what his hindbrain had noticed: the hallway was decorated. Someone had taped streamers of green and gold, twisted into looping braids, from the turbolift to the mess hall entry. Balloons (where the hell had anyone gotten balloons?) of the same colors littered the floors, floated in the corners, bobbed along the ceiling.

“Someone picked our wedding colors for us,” Kirk finally said, and grinned at Spock as they continued down the hallway.

Spock considered them. “Apt, I believe.”

“Oh? Why do you say that?”

“Green for me, for obvious reasons. Gold for you. The symbolism of a braid. I believe it was the Celts on Earth who popularized the concept of handfasting.”

Kirk’s brain was still catching up. “Why gold for me?” Spock halted in the hallway, turning to face Kirk entirely. Kirk stopped with him. They stood close together, though the hallway was empty; Spock had stepped into his personal space. Kirk had to look up to make eye contact. He felt oddly vulnerable as he did so. Behind the veneer of Spock’s usual resting face, there was a flicker of something in his eyes that Kirk couldn’t name. Spock’s hand lifted slowly and he cocked his head to the side as he reached, as if to twist a lock of Kirk’s hair between his fingertips, or touch the skin next to Kirk’s eyes.

“Because you are golden, captain,” Spock said quietly. Something in Kirk’s stomach erupted into butterflies as Spock’s eyes widened infinitesimally and he dropped his hand, clasping it behind his back as he took a step backwards. He cleared his throat and looked away before meeting Kirk’s gaze again, and when he did whatever had been in his eyes was hidden away once more. Kirk stared at him, but the stone wall of Spock’s emotional control had returned, and there was nothing more to be revealed. Kirk mentally shook himself and gestured in front of them.

“Shall we?” Kirk asked, and threw in a theatrical half-bow to break the sudden tension.

“Certainly,” Spock said, and they continued down the hallway. Even from meters away and through the closed turbolift he could hear the rumbling of laughter and voices.

“I believe we may be about to experience what humans refer to as an engagement party,” Spock said clinically.

“Spock, judging by the noise level already, I think this might be a bachelor party.”

Spock stopped. “Ah.” He glanced sidelong at Kirk again. “When you initially laid out your strategy for this week, I believe you underestimated the number of ship-wide parties that would be required. Or intentionally miscounted.”

“Hey, I didn’t plan this one!” He looped his arm through Spock’s, tugging it out from behind his back and forcing Spock’s shoulders to unclench. Spock allowed him to maintain his grasp on his arm and to tow him to the turbodoors.

“The hard part is over,” Kirk said. “It seems, for better or for worse, everyone believes that we’re together. Now all we have to do is have a couple of parties and submit the paperwork, and then you’ll never have to leave the Enterprise.”

Spock tilted his head again, and his eyes softened. “I believe I can tolerate a few more gatherings in the service of our mission.”

“Good man,” Kirk said bracingly, and the turbodoor slid open. A wall of sound smacked into them as a room’s worth of officers yelled, “Congratulations!” Uhura wriggled out of the crowd, grabbed them both by the wrists, and towed them into the celebration. It seemed like everyone who was lucky enough to not be on beta shift had crammed into the mess, lifting glasses and cheering.

“This is what most people were messaging about today, sir,” she said, and she snagged a glass of champagne off a table and passed it to Kirk.

“Sneaky, sneaky,” he said teasingly, and leaned against the table next to Bones, who was nursing a glass of whiskey. Uhura towed Spock off to somewhere else, vanishing into the crowd, and Kirk tilted his glass against Bones’s in a toast.

“Seems the whole ship is happy for you, Jimmy,” Bones said, in between the row of crewmates who passed by to offer their congratulations to the captain.

“I know,” Kirk said in wonder. “Can you believe it?”

“Yes,” Bones said abruptly, and when Kirk looked over at him his face told him that Bones thought he was a dumbass. “How’re you doing, Jim?”

“Great,” Kirk said, bewildered. “How are you?”

Bones ignored his question. “You looked pretty cozy on the bridge. I didn’t know he had it in him. Did you coach him?”

“No, actually,” Kirk said, and crossed his arms. “I told you, he agreed to it. He’s spent enough time around us that he knows how it works.”

“And you like it?”

Kirk glanced sharply at him as something cold and real dropped in his stomach. “What are you asking, Bones?”

Bones held up his hands in a peace-making gesture and sighed. “Nothing. Nothing. I just worry about you, kid.”

“There’s nothing to worry about. So what if I like it? It’s just friendly.”

Bones harrumphed and took another sip. “I’m glad he’s staying, Jimmy, I really am,” he said. He paused, as a few more crew members passed by to talk to Kirk, and then said softly, “I would just hate to see you break your own heart.”

Kirk lifted his glass to his mouth. The bubbles burned his tongue on the way down. “It’s not going to be like that,” he said. He pushed the warmth of Spock’s eyes, his hand on Kirk’s hip, his aborted half-gesture in the hallway outside, from his mind. It was just friendly. It was just so Spock wouldn’t have to leave the Enterprise. There was no reason to think more about it.

Bones looked over at him and sighed before clinking his glass against Kirk’s. “I can’t believe you are really going to pull this off,” he said.

“Pull what off, doctor?” Spock and Uhura materialized over Kirk’s shoulder, Uhura with a cocktail glass and Spock with a mug of something steaming.

“This,” Bones said, and gestured to the crowd milling in the mess. The mood was jubilant, celebratory, and every time Kirk made eye contact with one of his officers they invariably smiled and raised a glass to him. He grinned back at Giotto across the room as Spock drank delicately from his mug and said, “Indeed. I predict that our marriage will fulfill all intended purposes with minimal complications.”

“How romantic. Exactly what I’d expect from a Vulcan,” Bones snorted. Spock raised an eyebrow and considered the doctor for a long moment.

“Just because you cannot read our poetry does not mean that it has not been written, doctor,” Spock said, and Bones choked. Kirk and Uhura turned to look at him in shock and, in Kirk’s case, growing amusement. He tapped his glass against Spock’s mug. Spock took another sip of his drink before looking down at it, back at Bones, and then to Uhura.

“I believe you have underestimated the intoxicating properties of this beverage, Nyota,” he said. Bones crowed with laughter.

“I didn’t expect you to drink half of it on the walk over,” Uhura protested.

Kirk peered into the mug. “Is that hot chocolate?”

“Cocoa has an inebriating effect on many species from desert planets. We do not have climates conducive to growing it and thus have not adapted to metabolizing it,” Spock said. He leaned back, claiming the spot on Kirk’s other side, and planted his hand on the table behind Kirk’s waist.

“Fair enough, Mr. Spock, fair enough,” Bones said, shaking his head. Their merry foursome turned back to the party at large, and eventually they were joined by the rest of the bridge crew, Giotto, and some of the other department heads. Someone, either Bones or Uhura, kept refilling Kirk’s glass when he wasn’t paying attention, and Spock had two empty mugs behind him and a third in his hand. The mess slowly cleared out as people excused themselves for bed or shift change or other responsibilities, but most people stopped by their table to congratulate Kirk and Spock and toast to them on their way out. More than a few people said something along the lines of, “I’m glad you’re able to share your relationship now,” and Kirk realized that it was not just Medbay and Security that had thought they were together: a few of Spock’s scientists said it, as did some engineers.

“Mazel tov, Mr. Spock,” Dr. Khan said, as she strolled by with what Kirk thought might have been a protein shake.

“Thank you, Dr. Khan,” Spock said, and his hand made its way from the table to around Kirk’s waist. She smiled at Kirk.

“We had hypothesized,” she said. “No one who is not one of us likes to spend that much time in the laboratories.”

“What were the other hypotheses, doctor?” Kirk asked, and allowed the weight of Spock’s arm to tilt him against Spock’s chest. Spock was so solid, and so warm.

“Some had wondered if you were seeing someone else in secret, but you only ever looked for Spock,” she said. “Some thought you were just fulfilling captainly supervisory duties. One man, who shall remain unnamed, used your Academy senior thesis as a foundational text in some of his own research and fervently maintained, up until the wedding invitation went out, that you were running your own experiments illicitly in an unused lab.”

Kirk burst into laughter. “You’re joking,” he said. “That’s outrageous! How did he even find my thesis?” Dr. Khan laughed with him, but her eyes flicked to Spock.

Spock said, voice rumbling deep in his chest, “I recommended it to him.”

Kirk twisted and leaned back to look up at Spock’s face. “You did not,” he said.

“I did, captain,” Spock said solemnly. His cheeks were flushed, but his expression was earnest. “I read it when you were assigned to the Enterprise, but before you had come aboard. I was seeking information on what might be expected from your captaincy. It was unorthodox, but the methodology was sound and the conclusions were insightful. When Lieutenant…unnamed scientist proposed his research, I included it in my list of sources to consider.”

Something warm, bubbly, and unrelated to his champagne lit up in Kirk’s chest. He had loved science, had considered being on the blue-shirt track at the Academy before committing to command, and to have his science officer hand down such high praise, seemingly without thinking? He felt known. He felt seen. He felt, as Spock looked down warmly at him and Dr. Khan laughed at his expression, like someone had peeled away his masks and airs and hadn’t turned away at what lay beneath. That feeling remained for the rest of the night, as the mess cleared out, Uhura hugged them both and went to bed, and the last stragglers saluted and vanished. Then it was just him and Spock, as it always was at the end of the day. In companionable silence they retrieved abandoned glasses and Spock’s collection of chocolate-stained mugs and dumped them into the recycler, then wiped away the stains of celebration from the tables.

Though Kirk was mostly steady on his feet, he didn’t argue when Spock walked too close to him, occasionally brushing his hand against Kirk’s elbow. The corridors were silent, with the rest of the crew either asleep, recreating, or on the delta shift, and their footsteps in sync echoed lightly against the walls.

Spock did not pause at his own door when they reached their destination, and instead walked Kirk to his. “Do you require anything, captain?”

“No, Spock, I’m fine.” Kirk said, and looked up at his first officer. The lights in the corridor twinkled off of Spock’s sleek, dark hair. He grasped Spock’s shoulder and squeezed. “I… I’m just so glad you’re not leaving. That you agreed to this.”

“I am as well, captain,” Spock said. They stood like that for a moment, gazing at each other, until Kirk was overtaken by a jaw-splitting yawn. “Good night, Jim,” Spock said, and stepped back, breaking Kirk’s grip on him.

“Good night,” Kirk said, fighting off another yawn, and smiled at Spock’s retreating form until it vanished into his own room. He let himself into his quarters, brushed his teeth and got undressed half-asleep already, and collapsed into bed in minutes. The residual warmth of the party, of the crew’s overwhelmingly positive response, and of Spock’s arm wrapped around his waist carried him off to sleep.

In his dream, he was standing in front of the bathroom mirror. The humidity from his shower still dampened his skin. Spock’s door opened and he stepped in.

“Ah, sorry, Mr. Spock,” Kirk said, turning to him. “I’ll be done in a moment.”

“There is no reason to rush, captain,” Spock said, and he walked further into the bathroom until his chest was pressed to Kirk’s back. He wrapped his long arms around Kirk’s waist from behind, clasping his hands at Kirk’s navel, and rested his cheek against the back of Kirk’s head. They stood entwined, rocking gently from side to side, until he heard an odd beeping coming from his room.

“Do you hear that?”

“Hear what, Jim?” Spock’s breath ghosted past the shell of his ear, and it gave him goosebumps. Kirk leaned back against Spock’s chest, dropping his head back onto Spock’s shoulder, and Spock lowered his head to Kirk’s neck---

Kirk’s eyes snapped open to the sound of his alarm blaring next to his ear and a sugar-induced headache from the night before. He slapped his alarm off and pressed his hands to his face, feeling his head pound with each heartbeat. He spilled himself out of bed, grabbed a rehydration pouch from his Bones-required personal first aid kit, tore the top off with his teeth, and dumped the contents into his mouth. As the headache receded and his higher-level cognitive abilities came back online, his dream came back to him in bits and pieces until he was remembering it so clearly that he could feel Spock’s hands against his stomach and his breath against his neck.

“We are only pretending to be in a relationship,” Kirk told himself as he stripped out of his pajamas and headed into the bathroom to shower off the remnants of the dream. “It means nothing. It is just friendly. It means nothing.” He repeated it to himself as he washed his hair, brushed his teeth, and got ready for the day. By the time he had dressed in his uniform, buried the ache in his chest that his dream had caused, and met Spock outside his door, he was able to look Spock in the eye without reliving the caress of his breath against his neck.

They walked to the mess together. By the time they sat down with Bones and Uhura he had put the dream in a box in his mind and sealed it away, and every time Spock touched him through their shift he smiled at his soon-to-be husband and reminded himself, This isn’t real.

#spirk #my writing #k/s #kirk/spock #regulatory relations #k/s fan fiction #kirk/spock fan fiction #spirk fan fiction

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clatoera · 1 year

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Always Remember We’re Burned For Better Chapter 4: I’ve Loved You Three Summers Now Honey, I Want Them All.

Heeeeeey besties.

This was supposed to be a fun, light weight, fluffy filler chapter as I have an exam this Friday and couldn’t give the tour the depth it deserved. All that to say I literally wrote 20 pages of fluff. This is sort of my niche in terms of long term fic writing. Most recently I was writing entire AUs in the terms of domestic vignettes of “slice of life” moments as someone called it. These don’t really further the plot. The goal was to give the idea of what their life could be if the plot stopped here.

Masterpost with chapters 1-3

AO3 Link

The title comes from Lover (Taylor Swift). I also highly recommend Cruel Summer and Daylight. Theres also an All of the Girls You’ve Loved Before reference. Each small vignette is separated by a lyric that I thought of when writing. If Taylor Swift had to name this she would call it “The More Lover Chapter.” Thats what this is. Every bold and italicized lyric is a change in scene.

Okay, as usual, thank you to the besties. Especially to @ms1818 who i have to directly credit with the ‘on both knees’ part in the very end :)

All’s well that ends well to end up with you

The sun is not yet rising on the horizon when the District Two prep team, escort, and Enobaria herself burst through the door of Cato’s bedroom the morning after the games. Neither Cato nor Clove’s eyes are fully open when Clove is physically ripped out of the bed and her otherwise naked body is wrapped in a cotton towel.

“Thanks to your little display last night, you two have bought yourselves an exclusive interview with Caesar before we go home. Great job, you two.” Enobaria is clearly just as exhausted as they are, if the robe and cup of coffee in her hand are anything to go by. She rubs at her eyes and Clove takes in more of her appearance, from the messy ponytail with flyaway hairs around her face, to the slippers she had not yet changed out of. If Clove were to guess, Enobaria had been pulled out of bed just the same as she was, not too long ago.

Cato tries to flip on his stomach, tugging Clove’s pillow over his head to block out the light brought on by the ring lights provided by the prep team. It’s ripped off of him by Clove herself, moments before she is being forced into a chair with makeup being plastered on her at the same time they start to comb out any knots from her long hair.

He grumbles into the pillow still under his face, before flipping back to lay spine side down. “What did we do wrong, Enobaria?” Cato firmly bunches the sheets around his hips, before pushing himself up to lean against the headboard.. “We followed your rules.”

“Your whole little display of affection- lust, affection, possession I don’t give a fuck what we call it- made national headlines.” Enobaria steps back and Clove lunges towards the coffee in her hands, leaving the girl to lean back in the prep team’s chair with what can only be described as a glare. “Uh uh. Get your own, not my fault you were up all night.” She warns Clove, shooting them a look that clearly tells them that she knows they were up all night.

“Cato, can you…” Clove runs a hand over her face, earning a disapproving gasp from the makeup girl who had been trying so intentionally to make Clove look as if she hadn’t missed a night of sleep in her eighteen years of life. She knows from the look on his face, that no, he would not be getting up and walking around the apartment in the state of undress that they had finally fallen asleep in. “Oh, whatever.”

“Unbelievable.” Enobaria mumbles with a disapproving shake of her head. “Fucking unbelievable.”

“Pretend to be shocked Enobaria, stupid looks really good on you.” Clove snaps, tilting her head back as her team frantically takes concealer to her collarbones and neck. In her peripheral vision, she can see Cato staring with a smug little smile.

Fast forward two hours, and they are standing just off stage yet again, as Caesar begins rambling about his exclusive interview to another packed audience. How they gathered a full studio so early in the day and at such short notice is nothing short of annoying.

“I can’t believe we have to do this.” Cloves hissed through teeth that are clenched into a smile, digging her nails into his bicep where her hand is purposefully wrapped around.

“Not my fault you couldn’t keep your hands off of me after your interview.” Cato taunts with that infuriating smirk plastered on his face as he pinches her hip playfully. He tugs her closer by the long black tulle of her skirt.

“Give me a break, you’ve wanted this for years,” She huffs, pulling her other arm away from the stylist who is fiddling with golden bracelets on her free wrist. There was no ulterior motive with this morning’s outfit, at the very least. It was far simpler and yet nicer than anything she’d ever worn back home. A tight black dress that only covered her left shoulder, with fabric that really only fell to the middle of her thighs at most. There was a sheer black skirt that fell over the dress from her waist to the floor which would drag if not for the tall heels they once again put her in.

He was coordinated in all black, of course he was, this was too important of a moment to have them look anything less than flawless together. She believed that the all black look for the two of them, from his suit jacket to a dress that somehow was perfectly fitted to her, was chosen to highlight their intensity for both the games but also each other. Of course when she asked why they chose this during the prep period, the answer was far less thought out. It’s just what they could do with the time they had.

“You’ve wanted it too, don’t act shy now. At least this will make telling everyone back home easier.” Cato reminds her, grabbing her by the chin and directing her to look up into his face. He takes in the look of her, golden crown of a victor incorporated delicately in the low curly gathering of her hair at the base of her neck. How they manage to make her look so girly and yet so unnervingly powerful he will never understand, but he also knows part of it is something uniquely Clove that he has loved for a long, long time.

She’s looking up at him in turn, a coy little smile on her face as she soaks in the reflection of herself in his own golden crown, before her eyes trail lower from his eyes to his lips, and she stops herself before raising to try to capture him. “What I would have given to see the look on those bitchy faces in the academy when they realized you’re not for them-”

“Jealous?”

“Why would I be?” Clove flashes him a wicked grin. “I’ve got what they all want.” Be it victory. Be it him. Be it both.

They can hear Caesar announcing them, and the roaring applause that could only mean they are expected to enter.

“What do you say we give ‘em a good show?” He whispers in her ear, and she can hear the smile in his voice when he does.

“When do we do anything less?”

They step into the stage lights in perfect time, a perfect fluidity that could only be forged by years of moving in sync with one another. There's an edge to their smiles, something just the right side of unhinged that only the other could find home in. Clove realizes with a sharp pull in her chest that this is the first time the world would ever see them side by side, but even more so they would be seen side by side with their hard earned show of victories on their heads.

Clove doesn’t hear whatever Caesar says when Cato pulls her firmly to his side. The audience is absolutely wild when she tucks her legs over his knee, when his thumb steadily drums along her hip.

There's a juxtaposition in here somewhere of the brutality in which they won their games to the way they now publicly curl into each other. Or maybe this has the same tone of possession as when they made their final, respective kills. Doesn’t really matter now, does it?

“I think we all have a lot of questions here, for our lethal lovers, am I right?” Caesar pimps, before turning to look at the two of them. “Now I for one could not imagine a more stunning, terrifying duo, that’s for certain. Clove…there is clearly a long history here. When exactly did you two meet.”

She can tell you the day, the exact moment, actually.

“She’s just crazy! Don’t take it too personally.” Came the voice of some little annoying blonde girl, who helped her redheaded friend off the ground. “She’s got no friends so she takes it out on us.”

“I hope they pick her for the games soon, and just get rid of her.”

Clove’s not unused to the cruel remarks. At ten, she is the smallest in not only her class, but every class above her too. The comments never bother her, though Enobaria has always told her that people are only jealous when you’re the best.

She’s sharpened the practice knife just enough for it to actually draw the blood when she holds it to an opponent, and as the instructors get her up and face her with her next she is surely glad for her forethought.

He’s much bigger than her already, probably a head taller. There’s a smug smile on his face that she wanted to physically carve off.

“Clove. Cato. Meet your competition.” The trainer says, placing them a few feet apart. “You’re the best tens. Make each other better. No serious injuries. And don’t kill each other, you’ve got-” He looks at his clipboard and nods with approval. “Six or Seven years. Plenty of time.”

While he walks away, the blonde kid looks down at her with a dismissive cross of his arms over his child-sized torso. “You’re the best girl we’ve got? Good for me, I guess, you’ll make my win all the easier.”

She doesn’t even dignify him with a response, just narrows her jade eyes and flicks her wrist in his direction.

He ducks to the left just in time to avoid a knife embedded in his right shoulder (He’s right handed, she can tell from the way he crosses right over left), and escapes with only a graze to the skin of his shoulder. She’s impressed, truthfully, with the way he anticipated and avoided the hit.

Besides, this is just the first of many scars she gives him.

Cato is fuming all the rage his little ten year old body can allow, and when he reaches for her neck Clove gracefully slips out of his way just late enough that his hand makes contact with the wall behind her with a satisfying crunch of his finger tips. Clove laughs as she watches him pull back his hand, flexing and extending his fingers to ward off the ache that built under the surface of his skin that she has somehow already weaseled her way under.

“Oh you’re a little psycho bitch.”

“That’s the best you can do? Psycho Bitch? really?” She asks sweetly, before her foot makes contact with the side of his left knee and brings him down. “I think you’re going to make this so easy for me. Not much inside that head, is there?”

As she tries to slip by, unimpressed by her opponent and his lack of creativity in his insults. She’s been called worse by her own grandmother, when she found her with the dead field mouse in her hand the previous summer.

Cato grabs her by the ankle as she tries to walk off, yanking her sharply and causing her to fall right on top of him.

Clove shoves him away from her with both hands, wanting nothing more than to dig her heel into his jaw to prevent him from ever giving anyone else one of those annoying little grins of triumph.

“I can’t wait to kill you.” She nearly growls, pushing out of his grasp and forcing herself to her feet.

“Don’t worry, i’ll make it a good show when I take you out.” Cato promises in return, pushing himself to his feet with what little dignity he had left.

That isn’t for the world to know, though, no. That's part of the story that is intimately theirs, and theirs alone. When Clove’s hands squeeze his, she knows he got the message.

I know, but some things are ours.

“Oh we were..what? 10? 11?” Clove cocks her head, and when he nods she knows that he knows the specifics as well as she does. “We were training. The best in our classes. It was about time they put us together, no one could keep up with either of us. They Paired us up, told us we were partners now, and that was that.”

“How right they were, Partners indeed you are.” Caesar touches his hand to his heart, and the expected awww in response. He directs the next towards Cato. “We heard when you met..but when did you know there was something more than training partners?”

“Well would you know we were supposed to go into the games together?” Cato reveals, and the way his hand tightens on her hip wordlessly tells her that they aren’t getting this story either. The gasp from the audience feeds the fire of his storytelling “I know, I know, I’m glad that didn’t work out either. Being the best has its perks. Why waste your best on one game when you can have two winners.”

This long, hard fought for story was theirs and theirs alone. He’d give them the minimum details, but they knew the truth would be buried deep, shared only between the two of them.

“It wasn’t allowed. You know, dating, any of that in the academy.” He leaves out how that was more strongly enforced after a certain fifteen year old Kentwell girl, eighteen years prior, who shifted the view of the academy to truly see the weakness that love and intimacy would bring. “We were absolutely dedicated to training anyway. We were what…fifteen? But you know..things just happen.” And oh did they happen.

“Get off of me you…..you…god you stupid whore.” Clove shoves her hands firmly into his chest from her place under him, a hand to hand match gone wrong resulting in her pinned under him, his thighs bracketing either side of her hips. “Get off of me.”

“Oooooh that's a new one.” Cato teases, deftly gathering both her hands above her head in his left hand, effectively pinning both her wrists out of his way. “Thought you didn’t care what I did?”

“Or who.” Clove reminds, flexing her wrists hard in an attempt to free them, which only results in his grip tightening. “I don’t care but I don’t want you fucking up my training and my shot at the games because you’re whoring yourself out.”

It was after hours, of course. They’d never so openly bicker if the room had been full of their competition. They were a united front if nothing else. It was a privilege only given to a few candidates each class, and once they turned fifteen they were naturally the lucky two who were given the honor of full time access. Noone had a doubt the two of them would make good use of it, taking their training to the next level in only the way that Cato and Clove would.

Fifteen had changed a lot of things, beyond just their training.

They were just so familiar with each other, of course they noticed when things started to.. shift.

At least that's what they would have told you.

“Whoring myself out, that's what you’re calling it?”

“Oh I’m not the only one calling it that, that blonde bitch talks all about it in the locker room. Like you’re her fucking conquest and we should all be jealous that-”

And god if she could she would punch that look right off his face when the word comes out of her mouth, when he leans down far far too close to her face for her liking.

“I see, I see.” Cato whispers, just inches away from her ear, and he doesn’t miss the way her entire body tenses underneath him. “You are jealous, baby.”

“No i’m not-” Clove turns her face the other direction, facing the wall and not him. “Don’t call me that, i’m not your baby, either.”

“Sure you are.” Cato dismisses, mouth still hovering far too close to the skin of her neck for comfort.

“How would you feel if it were YOUR classmates talking about fucking me? You wouldn’t be to happy about how it affects your training-”

The way the hand that is not on her wrist tightens significantly on her hip causes her to whips her head over to look at him with that same snide smile on her face. “Oh are you jealous now? Of a made up scenario.”

“No.” He inhales, but he’s pulled back and is looking with a look she can only relate to a lion in the final moments before sinking its teeth into its prey. Clove is sick to realize she does not entirely dislike the feeling of being the prey in question. “Noone’s allowed to touch you, they know that.”

“What the fuck do you mean noone’s allowed? You don’t own me, you dickhead.” Clove’s angry now, and she tries her hardest to break free from under him, but by the combination of hands above her head and him holding her down by her hips she is completely stuck. “You’re just my training partner, you don’t get to decide shit about my life.”

“Just your training partner-” Cato actually laughs, head back laughing before he’s leaning down. She doesn’t even have time to tell him to wipe that stupid look off his face before he’s kissing her.

He’s actually fucking kissing her right on the training room floor. The hand on her waist has trailed up to hold her cheek, and he’s loosened his grasp on her wrist just enough that one of her hands sneaks free. When she laced her fingers into the hair at the base of his skull, he is sure she’s going to try to break his neck. When instead, she pulls him closer to her, he finds himself smiling despite her biting his lower lip.

“I think we can all agree that we are very glad we did not have to see the two of you up against each other. Though it would have been an incredible fight, I’m sure!” Caesar responds, and Clove simply tightens the grip of her knees on Cato’s. While she may not have said it yet, she knows Enobaria was right all those years ago now. She'd thank her for separating their games later.

The interview passes the same way. Volleying answers back and forth between each other. Giving just enough to satiate the needs of the crowd, but never too much.

Yes we sort of got together at fifteen.

Yes we really got together at seventeen, when he came home from the games.

No, they had no doubt watching each other in the games, they’ve always been the best.

“Well, before I let you two go home-” The crowd makes a coherent sound of disappointment, which Caesar settles. “Now I’m sure we’ll be seeing plenty of these two, no need for disappointment!” He turns to face the two of them, practically one body from how close they have intertwined through the interview. “What are you going to do now that you’re victors?”

Clove only looks at Cato with a raise of her eyebrows and her signature smirk, and when he mirrors her expression in return, she knows they have the same thing in mind.

Take me out, and Take Me Home, you’re my lover

Her head is on his lap as the train races home, his long fingers combing through the length of her soft hair. She had pulled the pins from her hair and its fans out on legs, where she had tried without success to nap for the last hour of their trip home. They didn’t even have the chance to change after the interview, when Enobaria and Brutus rushed them onto the train to get them out of the Capitol before any other opportunities to exploit their relationship arose.

“Just wear that for when you get home.” Enobaria suggested, before she and Brutus turned to retreat and leave them alone. They have earned their privacy together. Enobaria pauses and turns to suggest, or rather demand, “If you two are going to do anything, can you just pull the skirt up, don’t take the whole thing off, it’s way more work than it’s worth to re-lace the back.”

They hadn’t though. Clove tried to sleep on him to mentally prepare for what they’d face back home. Plenty of talk, disapproving looks from trainers, and endless scowls from girls who thought they had a chance at Cato. There would be her grandmother and maybe even his family, who was always far kinder to her than her own had been. While most would have seen this tiny girl as no match, Clove had pushed him to be a victor all on his own right. How could they want anything more?

They reach home in what feels like no time at all, as the brakes of the high speed train push them back on the couch. They are sitting at the tail end of the train, where he can look out at the districts passing behind them. “We’re almost there, look at this.”

It wasn’t Cato’s first time pulling into this station, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, but he didn’t want her to miss the feeling of that first rush of your district fawning over you. “I remember pulling up last year. Brutus told me you never forget the faces. I don’t remember much of them, really, I was just thinking that i’d have to hunt you down if you weren’t at the platform waiting.”

They peak over the back of the couch together, watching as the mountains disappear and their home envelops them. He takes her by the hand and leads her backwards to the center of the train where they’ll step out soon.

Enobaria and Brutus meet them in the center of the train, and they wear matching looks of pride as they look at their victors together. There is years worth of training, respect, and skill between the four of them. And now, there is endless pride, as well.

Brutus is the one who reaches down to straighten Clove’s little gold wreath around her head, and even from him, pride for the girl is palpable in the air. “It was a little crooked.”

The train lurches to a stop and Cato’s hands are on the bare skin of her arms, rubbing up and down both to steady her and to comfort her in the last few moments of unknown.

Their escort is first, who introduces Clove as if the whole District hasn’t known her from her literal birth.

Clove is situated right behind the sliding door, Cato, Enobaria, and Brutus standing just a few steps behind her in a small semi circle. The doors fly open at just the right moment, and Clove steps forward and out onto the train platform. The three of them stay on the train behind her, if only for a few moments, to let her soak it in.

She understands what he meant, when he said you never forget the faces of the people in your district.

Clove soaks in the absolutely enraged scowls of the girls in her class, who look right past her and into the train at Cato. There's a few boys in her class, she notices, who had always looked at her with a certain fear that now translates to something she doesn’t care to analyze.

She catches her grandmother towards the front. She isn’t near old enough to be considered a grandparent, just around fifty years old. She had become Clove’s grandmother at thirty four, and full time caregiver at 37, and often blamed Clove for aging her prematurely. Looking at her now, looking all the more like Clove and her mother before her, anyone who didn’t already know would now know who she was. There is no love in her face, but there is certainly gratification. She would take the credit for Clove’s ruthlessness, for turning her into the victor that her mother had failed to be, for sure. There's a different kind of smile on her face today, one Clove’s never seen. It is not the kind as when she would smack Clove across the face until she cried as a toddler, or the sick and twisted one from when she made Clove watch her mother die over and over every year on her birthday. That one is the same smile Clove wore in her games, as she carved into flesh over and over and over.

Clove thinks for a moment, maybe she got this blood lust from her. She can’t imagine it coming from her mom.

Today, for the first time in her life, Clove sees the woman actually smile at her. It isn’t bright and bold like those of her mother, but it is a smile nonetheless. Yes, she was taking the credit for the woman Clove had become. She had raised a victor after all, it seems. Clove wants to scowl, to remind her that it was not thanks to her that she was standing up here victor behind her name..but it was. Instead Clove flashes that same menacing smile in return, directly at the woman who made her this way.

On the opposite side of the crowd she catches sight of a man, not even Enobaria’s height, around the same age of her mentors. She knows him, of course she does. He had shown up once a year for the first ten of her life, then never came again once she went to the academy to train. There’s a couple of little girls with him, maybe 11 or 12, whom Clove has never known the existence of until this moment. Turns out she technically had siblings, who knew. Clearly her father was not sending those two into the academy, no. He just made a bold- and stupid– choice to show up here, to try to claim part of her now that she had won and made the name for herself. A lot of audacity for the man who had begged her mother not to have her, begged for her to not throw away their future.

He had never even had a chance to compete in the games, like the pathetic excuse of a man he was. There was a reason she went in as a Kentwell girl, and not as whatever he even was.

Noone misses the eye roll she sends in his direction, and the message is beyond clear. This is not your victory, this is not your victor, this is not even your daughter to claim.

Clove is pulled out of her spite, when she feels a hand on each of hers. To her right is Enobaria, to her left is Cato, and when they raise her hands above her head, there is nothing but pride, adoration, and even love radiating from them.

These are the people who made her into the version of herself that could become a victor.

Enobaria must nod at him, because she drops Clove’s hand as he wraps both his arms around her. He twists her to face him, and before she can protest and realize what's happening, he’s bending her backwards as he catches her mouth with his own, hands firmly holding her up by her waist. She grabs his face with her hand in response, and can't help but smile against his lips when she hears the response from their very own District.

The first people who actually greet her off the platform is his family. The entirety of them with the same blonde hair and blue eyes, there was no mistaking the blood they all shared.

His mother is first, a tall woman half a foot taller than Clove, who hugs the girl like she is her own. “Oh we are so proud of you, Clove.” The woman squeezes her, and Clove finds herself wondering if her own mother would hug this way. She whispers in Clove’s ear, surely her words are just between the two of them. “And we couldn’t ask for anyone better for Cato, either.”

His father, who looks alarmingly like Cato plus about twenty years, is next, fully picking her up in a hug. “We of course wanted you to win, but we didn’t know what this one was going to do if you didn’t.”

Cato looks down, a redness flushing from his neck to his ears at the commentary. Maybe he hadn’t been as good at hiding it as he thought.

Next though, oh next is maybe her favorite reunion of all.

Cato’s toddler sister tugs at the skirt of her dress, those same shining blue eyes she loves more than anything staring up at her with child-like innocence and wonder. Clove always wondered if Cato ever looked like that, all the good in the world in tiny blue eyes and soft blonde hair, before training got to him.

“Oh hello, Cora Jade,” Clove whispers, kneeling to her level. She’s nearly three, now, and Clove can remember the day she was born like it was yesterday.

It was pretty standard practice in two, to have children far enough apart that one would be done with training and hopefully a victor by the time the other would even be of school age. She didn’t experience it, obviously, but she remembers being fifteen years old when Cato brought her home with him after school to meet his new sister.

Clove was terrified to touch her, she was barely a week old, and Clove was good at nothing but harming. She’d never even seen a baby before her, and was literally throwing up that night when she realized her mother was holding her at that age.

He had been effortlessly good at it. Tiny little Cora who looked like a doll in his arms, and he wore this goofy, love struck smile that Clove secretly burned into the back of her mind to remember forever. Looking back she thinks that had been one of the first moments she had actually fallen a bit for him.

She had watched her grow up with Cato, and had learned so much about him, too. The big, brutal, short tempered boy at training was almost polar opposite to the one who carried around his little sister on his shoulders, who fell asleep reading her little books when they babysit her for his parents.

Clove had even gone to see her by herself for a few hours last year, during Cato’s games. It was one of the only promises he ever asked of her. Make sure Cora would know him, even if he hadn’t come back.

Clove surprisingly enjoyed it, and when the three year old throws her little arms around her neck now, she does not shy away from her.

“I miss-ed-ed you.” Comes from the little girl, as she buries her little face in the crook of Clove’s neck.

“We missed you too.” Clove promises, not for a second caring about the blatant change in her demeanor from the girl the whole district had known and watched in the games. They had finally won, and life was far far too short.

She stands with Cora wrapped around her, and as she rubs the little girls back, she and Cato share a smile. His hands wrap around her shoulders, and he tickles his sister’s side to get her to giggle and look up at her actual brother.

“So now what do we do?” Cato teases her, as he pries his sister into his own arms.

“Mmm.” Clove hums as if she is considering, hands falling onto her hips. “Take me home.”

I want to teach you how forever feels

“You know you don’t have to be that precise, it’s just bacon.” Comes from behind her at the same moment she feels a hand wrap around her waist, when his chin comes to rest on her shoulder.

It catches her off guard and the knife in her hand flies to her side, aiming without even thinking for the bare upper body of whoever snuck up behind her. It may be months since the games, but there’s a paranoia that does not leave so quickly, Clove has found.

Her wrist is caught in his hand instinctively, and when he pressed his thumb between the tendons in her wrist the knife fell from her hand and to the kitchen floor.

“For fucks sake, Cato, you can’t sneak up on me like that!” Clove sighs, before leaning on her hands against the countertop to ground herself back into reality. She is in their home. She is safe. It’s just him. She’s just making breakfast. “I’m going to actually kill you one of these days, and I won’t even be trying to.”

“I think i’m pretty safe, I know your next move before you do.” He hums into her neck, his hands trailing up over her legs and sliding under the shirt-- his shirt may he point out– she decided was good enough to cook in that late summer morning. “Seriously though, you don’t need to cut that perfectly.”

“Some of us have skills we want to maintain.” Clove teases, as she leans her head back against his chest. “Noone wants to be trained or mentored by someone who lost all their own technique.” She teases, and yeah, maybe she is a bit neurotic in the way she slices exactly along the fat line of the meat in front of her with a new knife from the block. “We start after my tour, and I know I for one want to be training future winners.”

Cato grins into her neck, and firmly kisses down from her jawline to her collarbone, planning to lift her onto the counter the exact moment that they hear the front door open. He groans into the side of her neck, both very used to this type of morning interruption. Clove stabs into the cutting board, when she twists her head over his shoulder to call out to their uninvited but not quite unwelcome guests.

“How the fuck do you get in here?”

“We all have the same locks. Not hard to get a key.” Comes the voice of her mentor, who settles herself right down at the kitchen table. Brutus is only a step behind, sitting next to Enobaria expectantly. “Glad to see you’re–” She takes in Cato’s bare chest and Clove’s bare legs, the two of them combined to make a single outfit worth of clothing “–mostly dressed this morning.”

“You let yourself into our house, what do you expect?” Cato reminds, grabbing a handful of perfectly sliced strawberries before hopping up to sit on the counter top beside Clove.

She swats at his hand as it dips into the fruit bowl. “That’s for the pancakes-”

“Never thought i’d be listening to a little domestic dispute over pancakes.” Brutus remarks, already helping himself to making a fresh pot of coffee. “I’ll take chocolate chips in mine.”

“This isn’t a restaurant, Brutus.” Clove mumbles, but opens the cabinet above her head to get to the bag of chocolate anyhow.

“We kept you two alive.” Enobaria reminds them, separating sugar into two coffee mugs besides Brutus. Notably, she is not caring to make any for Cato nor Clove. “You know. Trained you. Got you sponsors. You can make us breakfast.” She holds out the mugs to Brutus, who fills both before they sit back at the island. “I think i’d like an eggwhite omelet. Spinach.”

“You can have pancakes. That's what I’m making.” Clove waves the knife over her work, before going back to meticulous chopping. “You know, Cato also got me sponsors and kept me alive, and he isn’t asking for special requests.”

“Okay mom, we’ll eat what you make us.” Brutus mocks her, voice teasingly high, which results in him and Enobaria laughing to themselves.

“I think you give Cato more than just breakfast requests, Clove.”

She rolls her eyes and finishes her prep work, Cato just chuckling next to her between bites of strawberry.

“Any other special requests? Do you need your pancakes cut into bite sized pieces so you don’t choke?”

“You offer Clove the same consideration?”

The knife that lands between Enobaria and Brutus’ heads is not meant to hit them.

This is our place, we make the call

It had just felt right, for her to end up in his house. Sure, she had been given the one directly beside him, across the street from Brutus, so that the four of them made up a corner of the village on their own. She had moved some of her things into her assigned home, but they quickly realized she was spending most days and nights next door with him anyway.

It was a natural progression, when his house became theirs, within months of returning as victors.

He finds her laying on the floor in the room directly next to theirs, staring at the ceiling on that exceedingly rainy afternoon.

“What are you doing?” Cato calls from the doorframe, where he is leaning against it but looking down at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Trying to decide what to do with all the extra space in the houses.” She answers honestly, her arms contently crossed over her ribs as she stares up at the white ceiling. “I was thinking we could use this room for practice space, but we’ll end up with a knife through the wall.”

He comes to lay directly beside her, side by side and just staring up at the ceiling. “You could take up knitting as a hobby and use this for that.” Cato deserves the gentle smack with the back of her hand that lands on his chest. He brings that hand to his lips and kisses the back of her fingers gently. “Maybe crocheting”

“Yeah, and you can use this for when you take up Yoga for anger management.” Clove rolls her eyes, but leans her head on his upper arm anyway.

“We don’t need to figure it out right now. We can just save it.” Cato suggests, lifting his head up when he experiences a sense of wetness on his neck. He cranes his head to realize the window is wide open, and now littering the floor with rain. “Open window?”

“I always liked the sound of rain.” She explains, turning on her side to face him. “Thunderstorms, really. But I liked the sound of rain. And the smell.”

Cato props himself up on his arm to face her, and an idea spreads across his face. “Let’s go outside then.”

“What? Why would we go outside when we can listen right here?”

He pulls her forward by her waist, pressing his forehead to hers. “Because we can.”

There was a time when neither of them were guaranteed more rainstorms, more sunshine, or homes with two much space for two people. Clove seems to understand that and nods, pushing herself to her feet.

He practically races her down the stairs, beat out by her only because she is so much more nimble than he is, and she can jump over the banister at the end of the stairs before he can.

Clove’s at the back door before he can even turn the corner, and she nearly yells when he lifts her up by her waist to get out there first. They stumble onto the back porch together, laughing loudly enough that surely their neighbors would be able to hear if their windows were open as well.

He sits on their top step, just out of the line of the direct rain, but close enough that they’d get misted by it.

She settles beside him, his arm falling over her shoulders. She laces her fingers together with his, and her head comes to rest on his shoulder.

They sit in silence, enjoying the feeling of cool summer rain on their skin, on the smell of petrichor mixed with a summer haze.

In a few months they would be on her tour, and then not long after that they’d be responsible for mentoring. They’d have to get back to training, back to making sure there was pride being brought to District Two.

But for now they had this summer rain and a youth that let them enjoy it. Wasn’t this what they won for?

Maybe, if they were lucky, things could always be like this.

Thunder cracks in the distance, and Clove finds herself curling in closer to his arms.

“Cato?” Clove murmurs, a feeling she can only describe as contentment washing over her with the rain. “Tell me you love me.”

Cato tightens his arm around, turning his head to kiss her temple. “I love you, baby.”

“I know.” She sighs in response. It was not the first time and it was not the last, but Clove never quite forgets how lucky she is to hear them in her adult life. “I love you, too.”

All of you, all of me, Intertwined.

Clove’s a sucker for the moments after. The times where he holds her on top of him by her waist, her face in the crook of his neck as she catches her breath, feeling him trying to capture his own under her as well.

She can remember being so scared of it, when they were teenagers. Plenty of fear mongering from her grandmother and Enobaria both resulted in a girl who wasn’t afraid of much other than this.

Looking back she can understand their concern, but her own fear was completely unfounded.

He had been so understanding, never pushy or anything. She had been willing to do..other things..to makeup for the actual act of sex, things she had gotten very good at over the years may she add.

He went to the games, nearly died, and Clove decided life was just too short to be so scared of something that she quickly found out could be so great.

“What’re you thinking about?” Cato asks into her hair, his hand gently stroking at her lower back. “You stop breathing when you think sometimes.”

“This.” She answers honestly, giving him a playful raise of her eyebrow before she rolls her hips over his. Clove smirks as he groans under her, turning his head to the side.

“You’re literally going to kill me, Clove. We literally just-”

She cuts him off with her hand trailing between them, down the broad expanse of his chest. “Can’t keep up?” Clove taunts, a sickly sweet edge to her voice. “I expected better.”

Cato practically growls as he flips on top of her.

I used to think love would be burning red, but it's golden

“What are you looking at me like that for?” Clove squints in his general direction, tucking the edges of the sheet conveniently under her upper arms to hold it around her bare chest. She rolls onto her left side to face him, her right hand coming up to stroke her thumb over his face.

Cato’s expression could only be described as lovestruck. His thumb traced over her forehead, down to her cheek, down over the corner of her mouth, and trailed down beyond her throat. He realizes, as he memorizes her freckles, her evergreen eyes, the long expanse of her eyelashes, that he is staring the rest of his life in the face. The entirety of his future is in his hands, under his finger tips, giving him a look that is somehow both inquisitive and annoyed. He’s truly won, he realizes that at this moment, nearly five months after her games. He’s won The Hunger Games. He won her. He won the rest of his life, and if it were exactly like this, he would die happy.

Of course there are other things he wants. At nearly nineteen he’s still dumb enough to say it, that there's nothing he wants more than to marry her. He can still picture that white lace dress from his reaping day, and if he imagines hard enough, he can imagine in her something not too unlike it, holding his hands in front of their district. She’s a little too fiery for lace, but maybe she’d consider it just for him that day.

“Seriously, what's the look for, Cato?”

“I’m going to marry you.” Stumbles out before he can stop it, the dreamy tone in his voice washed away when he realizes what he actually said out loud. “I mean- some day.”

“Not when we’re teenagers.” Clove warns, but she curls her body up into his anyway. She tucks her head against his chest, letting her body melt into his embrace. “And I believe you’d have to ask. Beg, really, You’re going to have to beg. On two knees.”

“Mmm…maybe around the 75th Games then.” He concedes, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, gently rubbing his hands over her bare upper arms. “We can take the attention to us, again, could be fun. Especially if Two doesn’t win next year. We can make it about us.”

Clove actually laughs, the sound vibrating through his chest and right to the center of his heart where it tugs hard.

“Sure. We can revisit then. You aren’t stealing the show of my Victory tour from me, next month. But like I said, I’m making you beg.” Clove’s voice is teasing, but there is no real edge to it. No sharpness. It’s not abnormal, really. They’d honestly be older than most people tended to get married in their district by that point, it was just a topic for later. Clove tilts back her head to look up at him, eyebrows scrunched together intently as she looks at him. “What’s next, you want a big yellow dog, too?”

He gives half a laugh as he cups her face in his hand once again. “No, I just want our kids to have these freckles.” He means it, Clove can tell from the deeply earnest tone in his voice. “At the very least, the freckles. I wouldn’t mind the eyes too.”

Clove rolls her eyes at him now, but she still gives him something between a smirk and a smile. “You think there's half a chance of that? Your whole family looks exactly the same, there's not a chance in hell that they aren’t gonna end up blonde and blue eyed with nothing from me.”

“One’ll be blonde, yeah. The girl’s gonna look like you though.” He says it so confidently she almost believes him, and she genuinely believes he can picture it. “They’ll have no choice but to be victors, too.”

“Well obviously, we aren’t raising losers.” Clove scoffs, but there's an understanding there. Trained or not, there was a better than average chance any of their kids would end up reaped. Especially, considering the long story of Clove and her mother. They loved a story, they loved drama. What better way to continue it than by throwing in the daughter of two victors, granddaughter of a tragic tribute girl. They had to be prepared for the inevitability of it. “That would be so embarrassing for us. Loser kids.” She tucks her face back into the hollow of this throat. “This conversation is also one for waaaay later, Cato. But yes. No losers here.”

Cato is grinning wide and excited at her, when his arm slips under her to flip her underneath him. He’s kissing down the center line of her body, starting at her chin and working downwards. Yes, Looking at him, you would think she has given him the entire world. Cato lifts his head when he reaches the bottom of her rib cage.

“I’ll also take the dog, if you’re offering.”

Clove shoves his head down and under the covers.

Can I go where you go, can we always be this close, for ever and ever

“Absolutely not, go home Cato.” Enobaria shakes her head, blocking the door of the train. “I’m not dealing with the two of you for two weeks. You can see her in 14 days, after tour is over.”

“That’s not going to work, Enobaria.” Brutus warns from behind her, heading to the back of the train car. “Just let him on, save us all the grief.”

“I’m coming.” Cato practically shoves past her, to end up with sharply manicured nails grasping at his throat, shoving him backwards off of the train.

“This isn’t your tour, you don’t get special tour privilege for fucking the victor.” Enobaria snaps, as if she had not been eating meals in his kitchen once a week for six months. “For the next two weeks, I’m her mentor for the last time. That includes making sure this is about her and not your little lover fest.”

“He’s coming.” Comes from behind him, from the girl neither even saw sneak up. “Like you said. It’s my tour. I want him there. Besides, you know they’ve already made him matching clothes, it would be a shame to put them to waste.” Clove steps on the train besides Enobaria, a wide, proud grin plastered on her face. She holds out her hand to him, inviting him with her. “Let’s go.”

I love you, ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard

#always remember we're burned for better tag #ARWBFB TAG #clato fanfic #the hunger games fanfic #the hunger games fanfiction #cato and clove #clato #THG fanfic #This has references of mild child abuse as well as sex

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neopuff · 1 year

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title: there's always next time word count: ~1600 ship: six/holiday summary: They'd have plenty of time to get it right. Or: Six and Holiday get dinner. ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48499474

They had dinner.

They’d had dinner before, plenty of times. But it was never “like a date”, or even outside Providence walls. Just meatloaf Fridays or the occasional late-night microwave meal together. Having dinner outside, in the real world, like real people? That was entirely new territory.

And dinner was nice. He’d taken her to a Mexican spot nearby - one of Rex’s favorites, Holiday recognized the name - and she had a delicious chile relleno. Six ordered tacos for himself, which she found interesting for absolutely no reason. They ate outside and chatted about work and Rex and Beverly and the future and whatever else until the sun started to go down.

She commented on the beautiful sunset, and Six surprised her by responding in-kind while looking directly at her. Holiday never imagined him being so cheesy, but she couldn’t pretend she didn’t love it.

It was sweet. And romantic . She felt an immediate urge to kiss him and held back only because she knew how much he valued his privacy. Holding her hand and asking her out in a room filled with other people was a big enough step for one day.

Going back to Providence - flying through the desert in his very sporty red car - Holiday couldn’t help but wonder if they’d be going out again. She wanted to - she definitely, absolutely, undeniably wanted to - but Six was a difficult man to read. After working alongside him for two years straight, she was better at understanding him than most people. But considering how new this experience was for them…she wasn’t sure where she stood. If he asked to do it again, she’d say yes in a heartbeat. If he tried to kiss her goodnight, she’d kiss back with gusto. And if he tried anything more…well, she’d be fine with that, too.

She was very happy, after all. She was grateful to him, and impressed with him, and she was on cloud nine every time she thought about the lengths he’d gone to help her. She’d always known that he cared, but he almost died to cure her sister. And she still hadn’t given him a proper thank you.

Holiday stared at him from the passenger seat, a permanent smile on her face. Even as he quirked an eyebrow, somehow having noticed her expression while also keeping his eyes on the road, she couldn’t keep the smile off her face.

“Something on your mind?”

"You, mostly."

He squeezed his hand around the clutch, clearly unsure of how to react.

"Today started out very bad and turned into one of the best days of my life."

His face relaxed at that, and his hand noticeably unclenched. "I'm glad I could help."

She wanted to correct him and say he did more than help, he did everything, (he was everything), but she didn't want to scare him off. Though, after the events of the day, Holiday wondered if his feelings for her went deeper than she'd ever thought possible. Maybe she couldn't scare him off.

"Me, too," she responded, turning to look out at the desert again. She wanted to say thank you, but it'd never be enough. And he would brush it off, as Six often did. "When did you get this car?"

"About a year ago," he answered dryly. "Confiscated it from some desert pirates."

She gave him an incredulous stare, then laughed as she remembered the incident he was referring to. Rex had happily recounted stories of the crazy British pirate with the gun-arm, and Holiday was just happy that everyone made it back home safely. She'd never spoken to Six about the incident and certainly didn't imagine he'd gotten a car for his trouble.

"You never fail to surprise me, Six," she said happily, leaning her chin onto her hand and enjoying the wind whipping against her face. Part of her was annoyed that her hair was getting so out-of-whack, but it was a nice contrast to the desert heat.

He didn't respond to that, though Holiday had a feeling there were several thoughts running through his mind.

They enjoyed a few moments of quiet until Six opened his mouth again. "Is there anywhere else you'd like to go before we head back to HQ?"

Another surprise. She smiled and thought about it for a second, but ultimately decided against having too much fun. "As much as I've enjoyed this, I really should get back. I wasn't kidding about the rest of the tests I need to do on Beverly."

He hesitated, then nodded, and took the next right turn.

Holiday wondered if he expected her to say yes and had already picked something out. Maybe they could go next time. Next time would be less crazy. Beverly would be safe at home and not recently cured and out with Rex.

They chatted lightly on the last leg of their journey, and as Six pulled into the Providence hangar, she noticed several grunts and scientists sending an appreciative glance their way. For the car or for the two of them finally going out, Holiday wasn't sure, but she knew which one she appreciated more.

Six walked her back to her room after they confirmed that Beverly and Rex were at Noah's house and Holiday's heart started beating so fast that she was sure he could hear it. They were about to reach the moment - the moment where one of them would say or do something that would change things between them forever. It was nerve wracking.

Six's hand was twitching in his pocket. It'd been doing so for the entire walk from her lab to her room - he wanted to hold her hand again, he really really liked the feeling of her soft hand cradled in his, but he didn't feel like he should. Despite how much she was clearly enjoying herself, Six still felt like he was doing something wrong.

He didn't want to mess things up with her. He couldn't. Messing up the balance they'd struck and the relationship they'd built would be one of the most shameful things he could possibly do. So Six wanted to tread carefully and make sure he did everything right.

Suddenly they were at her door.

Holiday clasped her hands behind her back and turned to face him, back against her door. She had a smile on her face and a light blush on her cheeks and Six wanted to kiss her more than he'd ever wanted to before.

"This was nice."

"It was."

She broke eye contact, glancing down at the floor, and lightly bit her bottom lip. Six didn't have to ask to know what she was thinking, and he was going to say yes. Obviously the answer was yes.

"So, um…" She ran her fingers through her bangs, temporarily pushing them out of her face. "...would you like to-"

Cue: the alarm.

It seemed louder than usual. Much, much louder. Maybe it was the shattering awkwardness - the fact that both of them were perfectly aware of what she was going to ask, and perfectly aware of what his answer would be, and perfectly aware that they wouldn't have time to discuss it further.

He glared at the walls and the ceiling, trying to will the sound to correct itself into a false alarm. It wasn't going to happen.

Six glanced down at Holiday to see a tremendously disappointed look on her face - she was blushing, noticeably, and had her arms wrapped around her in a way that he knew comforted her in times of distress. He ignored the part of his brain that wanted to wrap his own arms around her - and then hold her close, and kiss her, and join her in her room and ignore the alarm because Rex could probably take care of it himself.

But that was how it was at Providence. That was how it was to be them . They didn't have free time. They didn't even have enough time for all the work they did.

Still, he couldn't leave her without saying something. Six wanted to make sure she understood that he'd enjoyed himself, because he knew he wasn't expressive and often that meant she wasn't sure how he felt about her.

As he stared at her face, Six made a decision. He glanced up and down the hallway and, upon seeing no one, leaned down to place a quick kiss against her cheek - just an inch from the corner of her lips. He pulled away just as quickly and was acutely aware of the deepening blush on Holiday's face.

"I had a good time. With you," he said quietly, once again feeling nervous that he was messing things up. "I'd like to do this again."

Holiday stared at him, hand resting on her cheek where he'd kissed her. She looked stunned. "Y-yeah. I'd like that, too."

Six responded with a curt nod and reached for his comm to get more information about the EVO situation. After a few moments of listening, he flexed the muscles in his hands and started down the hall. He felt embarrassed about what he'd just done, but he didn't regret it for a moment. Holiday seemed happy and he enjoyed the contact with her.

"You should get some sleep," Six called out to her. "Salazar can handle this."

She gave him a small wave and tilted her head, wondering how she felt about that. Her job had gotten a lot easier since Caesar's arrival, but when it came to Rex and his nanites, she still felt a bit protective.

Holiday watched Six's retreating figure and decided she didn't need to sleep just yet. She wanted to be there for her boys, after all.

And maybe, if things were wrapped up quickly enough, she and Six could continue their conversation.

#generator rex #holix #agent six #rebecca holiday #carrofics #it's just a post family holiday fic nothing new just a fun time #I'm on my phone so i can't format the header of this exactly right but it's fine

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