#deliberately curled himself up on top of my blanket so i could spoon him

[ashfdhfgdsfk]

when dogs little spoon themselves by curling up right into your side be still my beating heart

[valhallasubstitute]

In Sickness and In Health

Finan X Eadith

Request: Can I request Finan x Eadith where he's ill/injured and she stays with him for a month or so to look after him. Except that by the time he's better he's coaxed her into moving all her stuff over, sleeping in the same bed because it's comfier and his supposedly platonic cuddling has definitely gone way past friendship. Bonus points if you can work in some cuddly and playful smut at the end because those two deserve it.

WARNINGS: 18+ SMUT, mentions of injury and infection, swearing

Tags: @flowers-in-your-hayr

@geekbookandnerd

@mariaenchanted @solinarimoon

wc:2336

It had been a long journey home.

The battle had been won and the boys had returned home safely but Finan’s wound was already showing signs of infection when they passed through the gates of Coccham.

The cut wasn’t particularly deep, at least from what Eadith could see beneath the puss and gunk that covered it, but it was long. It stretched from his right shoulder blade to lower end of his ribcage on the left, it would scar.

If he survived…

The thought had terrified her.

Plagued her.

His fever had taken days to break. Eadith had taken to spending her nights in the chair by his bed, from there she could make sure the fire didn’t go out and the Irishman didn’t worsen. She would hold his hand in hers and pray to a God who had never been kind to either of them.

She wiped the sweat from his brow and held him down when he thrashed in his sleep. She was exhausted. It took three days for the worst to pass.

When his eyes finally opened Eadith could have cried. She left him with Uhtred, Sihtric and Osferth and returned with a bowl of steaming broth.

The Irishman was propped against the headboard, his eyes heavy but, as always, they followed Eadith’s movements across the room. She sent him a small smile before clambering onto the bed. She sat cross legged in front of him, too relived to care for impropriety and held the spoon to his lips. He took it without complaint, without a smirk or sly remark and Eadith knew it would take time for the life to return to him.

It took another week before he could sit up on his own and by that time Finan had grown sick of watching Eadith run back and forth between his home and hers.

‘Osferth will be here by midday. You are not to move until he gets here.’ Eadith looked at him pointedly and he couldn’t help but smile back. It only seemed to irritate her more. Finan felt a flash of guilt as she glared at him, the dark circles under her eyes and the pain in her back she tried to hide from him suddenly becoming obvious as her guard dropped. He lifted his hands in surrender.

‘I promise… on one condition.’ Finan watched as she brushed a stray red hair from her face, her eyebrows raising as her interest peaked.

‘I hardly think you’re in the right state to be making demands.’

‘Indulge a dying man – ‘

‘You’re not dying anymore.’

‘No, but you’re killing me with all this back and forth. Just take some of your things with you when you come back.’ Eadith’s eyes widened and for a moment Finan wondered if he had overstepped, if she would come back at all. Finan chewed on his lip as Eadith considered, her eyes scanning the room before settling back onto him.

‘Maybe I will.’ He didn’t miss the way her gaze flickered from his face to the bandages wrapped around his torso as she spoke. Nor the tiny curve of her pink lips.

Finan could barely contain his smirk as Eadith returned later that evening, a basket of her belongings in hand. She unpacked them quietly, huffing as her blanket failed to fit onto the chair she had claimed as hers.

‘The bed is big enough for two ya know.’

‘I’m quite aware of how big your bed is Finan, I’ve watched you snore in it for the last week and a half.’ It hurt to laugh but it was progress.

His fever returned the next day.

On the third night Eadith climbed into Finan’s bed and held him until it broke in the early hours. Her clothes were damp with his sweat and her hands were trembling, but Finan was smiling at her.

‘So, this is what it takes for you to get into bed with a man.’

‘Stop talking Finan or I’ll smother you myself.’

‘You’d miss me too much.’

I would, Eadith thought, but she wouldn’t tell him what he already knew.

When Finan awoke, sticky and dehydrated, Eadith was curled up beside him, her hand still clutching the wet cloth that had long since dried. He took it from her as gently as he could and pulled the covers up to her shoulders. He watched her chest rise and fall and let his fingers dance over the delicate features of her face. It was the ghost of a touch, featherlight and fearful. Eadith didn’t stir and Finan felt peace.

He decided that he quite liked having Eadith in his bed. He decided that he slept better with her in it.

‘It’s rude to stare at a lady.’ Her voice was muffled and a little hoarse from sleep.

‘Mmmh, but I can’t help but notice how comfortable you are.’

Eadith groaned, her eyes still closed as she frowned at him.

‘How can a man be so insufferable this early in the morning?’

It was past midday when Eadith finally pulled herself out of bed. Finan’s bed. They had spent all morning talking, teasing each other until Finan had needed his bandages changed. She had left him with the healers, smiling as he flirted with the oldest woman she had ever seen.

That night she teased him about it as they lay opposite each other, the covers resting just above her waist. Finan played with the hem of it, his fingers brushing against her occasionally.

‘I didn’t realise that was your type, the young women of Coccham will be sorely disappointed when they find out you prefer their grandmothers.’

‘I can tell when a woman’s been pretty, it’s all in their eyes and their touch. It’s a gift.’ Finan shrugged, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

‘And what does my touch say hm?’ Eadith took her hands out from under her cheek and began poking the man in front of her, lightly so not to cause pain but enough that she saw the spark of amusement in his dark eyes. She knew Finan would only take so much but she hadn’t expected him to grab her and flip her. She yelped as her back was pulled to his chest, his hands resting over hers as he took deep breaths. He tensed, letting the pain flow through him before relaxing once more.

Eadith tried to sit up, to check on his bandages but Finans hold was tight.

‘Stay.’

‘Finan your wound – ‘

‘Is fine. Stay.’

Eadith didn’t argue. She didn’t argue when he asked her to stay in his arms the next night, or the night after, or the night after that. For comfort or for warmth she didn’t mind, it felt good to see him slowly come back to life and let herself relax.

It had been an entire month before Finan was able to have the bandages removed, the infection was gone, and the scar was a healthy shade of pink. Eadith would run her finger along it, enjoying the way goose bumps would follow in her wake. Or was it just the feeling of his skin?

But this morning it was not Eadith who let herself explore.

Finan had awoken to Eadith’s back pressed to his chest and the sound of birdsong in his ears. His hand rested on her waist and his erection pressed into the curve of her ass lightly. They had never acknowledged it; they weren’t children nor were they virgins. But there were moments Finan would swear blind she embraced it, pushed herself back further just to test him. See how long he could bite his lower lip or hold back the moan that bubbled in his throat.

Her skin was warm through the thin material of her night dress, and as Finan shifted his legs he could tell it had ridden up in the night. They were long and smooth, and he couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to press his body between them, have her thighs cage his head or her ankles locked behind his back as she pulled him in deeper.

Finan let out a shaky breath, desperately trying to distract himself but the action sent shivers down Eadith's spine. She stirred, taking Finan’s hand from her waist and curling it to her chest, hugging it.

Finan’s morning voice was rough and heavenly to Eadith's ears as he greeted her with a mumbled ‘good morning.’

She let herself adjust to the light slowly, opening her eyes just a crack as Finan became restless. She knew he would want to stretch; she had learned that warriors never liked to lay still for too long, but she couldn’t help but tighten her grip on his hand, curling her body until her chin rested on top of his knuckles.

Eadith's lips brushed against his fingers as she smiled, the digits beginning to move in an attempt at escape.

‘Eadith.’ A warning.

‘Finan…’ Her voice was teasing, and Finan wanted to melt. There was a smile on his lips as he began to tickle her neck, his body acting as a cage as she squirmed. Eadith's laugh was carless, her movements pushing the blanket from the both of them as her hands finally eased their grip.

With his hand free, Finan let it travel south. His palm pressed against her breast gently, feeling its softness, his fingers ghosting over her nipple. Eadith gasped but made no move to stop him.

‘That tickles.’ The breathlessness of her voice made Finan’s cock throb. she shifted a little, pulling her long hair to one side, exposing her neck. Finan took the hint, letting his beard touch her skin before his lips.

She giggled.

Stubborn, independent, fierce Eadith giggled and Finan could die a happy man.

He teased her again, pulling her nightdress off her shoulder with his teeth. He was deliberate with his movements, letting the scratch of his beard distracted her before moving his fingers again.

Eadith's nipples were already hard from the morning chill, but Finan’s skilled fingers sent an aching to her centre. It was the simplest touch, rolling and pinching until Eadith felt so sensitive she couldn’t help but let little moans tumble from her mouth.

Finan responded immediately, letting out a groan from the back of his throat.

It was sinful and Eadith wanted more.

She turned in his arms, humming as his hands trailed to rest on her arse. He kneaded the flesh as she brought her hands to his chest. She could feel his heart beating frantically as they looked at each other, his dark eyes kept darting to her lips. He was smiling at her, smug and delicious. Eadith closed the gap between them, soft and slow.

Finan’s lips were plush and addictive, his tongue gently swiping over her bottom lip as he tried to deepen the kiss.

Eadith didn’t deny him, if his fingers were skilled then his tongue was saint like. She let out another small sound and felt his erection jump against her thigh. With a grin Eadith broke the kiss, her nails leaving little red lines as she ran her hands further and further south.

‘That tickles.’ Finan teased, his own hands growing bolder.

She watched as his muscles tensed as she brushed over them and relished in the way he arched towards her as she undid the ties of his breeches.

The fantasy of Finan paled in comparison to the reality; he was thick and long, his tip already leaking pre-cum. She brushed the pad of her thumb over it. Starting at the top Eadith slowly began pumping him up and down, feeling every vein and twitch.

‘Eadith, Christ please.’ Finan’s voice was desperate. Her heart skipped a beat and her cunt pulsed. ‘I won’t last.’

And Finan wanted to last.

Her hands were smaller and softer than his own, but her grip was perfect. Just enough pressure to inch him closer to the edge but slow enough that he couldn’t quite get there. It was maddening but he knew how she liked to tease.

Finan let his eyes trail away from Eadith's hands around his length to the opening of her legs. With the covers gone Finan could see the way she had parted them slightly, the mound of red inviting him in. without hesitation Finan slipped his fingers between their bodies and brought them to her slit. She was already soaking and Finan couldn’t help but curse at the feeling. He parted her folds languidly, spreading the wetness and enjoying the way she squirmed, how her grip tightened around his cock.

He slipped his finger inside without warning, Eadith's face burrowing into his neck as she called out. Finan matched the pace she set, curling his finger in time with her strokes. She littered his neck with sloppy, open mouthed kisses in between moans but it wasn’t enough for Finan. With a groan he slipped in another finger, stretching her as his thumb found her clit.

As soon as the pad of his thumb found her sweet spot her movements stopped but Finan couldn’t find it in himself to care.

‘Finan please…’ He could feel her tightening around his fingers, her nails carving little half-moons into thighs are her high approached.

‘Please what?’

‘Please, please…Finan!’ He felt her come around him, her walls fluttering as her slick dripped down his hand. Her breathing was ragged and as Finan took in her flushed cheeks and kiss swollen lips he knew this was the best morning of his life.

As Eadith recovered he brushed his hands along her body, imaging all the possibilities. He was painfully hard, the head of his penis red and weeping but the look in Eadith's eye told him that she was going to keep him like that for just a little bit longer.

She kissed her way from his love bitten neck up to his jaw. She planted her hands on his chest and straddled him, pushing him down as he tried to rise to meet her. Her breath was hot in his ear as she spoke, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

‘Now this may tickle…’

[sorry-i-ship-drarry]

Perfect birthday plans

Prompt used- Stroking others arms soothingly | fluff | All of Draco's birthdays plans gets fucked up |

" but I am sure, please check again " Draco frustratingly said to the girl behind the counter

" sir, I've already checked thrice and I am sure there's no reservations under the name for Draco malfoy. I'm sorry sir " the girl gave him a sympathetic smile

" Draco it's fine, we'll go some place else " Harry clutched Draco's hand besides him

" no Harry it's not fine-"

" it is, we're sorry for the inconvenience. Have a lovely day " Harry gave the girl a charming smile and dragged Draco out with him.

" I swear I made the reservations " Draco threw his hands his hands in the air in annoyance

" I believe you babe, we'll find some place else " Harry gave him a smile as they walked back to the car.

" but this was the perfect place Harry, I'd been planning this for months and now it's woosh, just not there " Draco sighed as he opened the door for Harry, then walked off to his driver's seat.

" it doesn't matter Draco-"

" it does to me Harry " Draco mumbled as he turned on the car and stayed there in silence for a moment.

" you know, we'll do the next thing on my list" Draco's voice rose in little excitement. Harry gave him a contented smile and they soon drove off.

But as it turned out Draco forgot the tickets to the concert and it was all booked out.

One thing after another, most of his bigger plans failed and he was only met with disappointment until they finally decided to just retrieve back to their place and have a fine ordered dinner with some champagne and call it a night.

But for obvious reasons Draco was bummed out. It was Harry's 21st birthday and he had been planning for this for months, dinner at a nice restaurant, go to a concert, go to a late night beach walk, maybe go do swimming but one thing after another, everything had collapsed onto the ground, for one he never got the reservation at the restaurant, he forgot tickets at home and it was all sold out and they couldn't possibly go now, for it was too late, the beach was all closed down for cleaning so they couldn't even apparate inside. It was a terrible night and Draco felt helpless. Worse than helpless if so. At least the cake would still be something fine.

But it wasn't his lucky day, his cake somehow had even delivered upside down and by his mistake he hadn't even checked before and now the bakery won't take it back and above everything else,the entire block was out of lights because of some technical issues.

" this day couldn't had been more worse " Draco huffed as he threw himself onto the couch and balled into it in disappointed.

" hey " Harry consoled as he came by and sat next to him and snuggled him from behind " it doesn't matter-"

" Harry it might not matter to you but I spent so much time planning all of this, making sure everything was perfect. I even checked 3 times with the restaurant for the reservation yet somehow they didn't had a recollection and I was too fucking stupid- shit- I could've apparated back for ticket. Ugh " draco groaned, curling up more just inside him.

Harry huffed before he got up and sat down on the ground to face Draco.

" get up " harry ordered as he looked at the miserable self of Draco. Confused, Draco refused but harry dragged him up.

" we've still got 2 hours before my birthday ends and I'm sure we can make something out of it Because it surely means too much to you that you're beating yourself up for it, now think of resources at the best for you and just do something, and I'll act surprised okay ?" Harry raised his eyebrows, making sure it was okay.

Draco bit his lip thinking before he stepped away and nodded.

" okay just, go inside the bathroom for a while. And meet me at the roof in 15 minutes alright. And no peaking " Draco ordered. Chuckling Harry kissed Draco's cheeks and walked inside the bathroom and locking himself inside.

Exactly 15 minutes later Harry walked out of the bathroom to find the apartment empty. He searched for Draco to make sure he wasn't ruining his surprise and once he was sure, he carefully made his steps to the roof.

Harry reached the roof door and almost entered when he decided to make sure if Draco was done " should I come in ?"

" just-a- minute " Draco sounded out of breath. Harry heard a clap before Draco opened the door with the most charming he had ever pulled and offered Harry to take his hand. Surprised Harry took his hands and walked into the roof.

" obviously I couldn't do much with the lights all out and well- sometimes these muggle laptops can be of actual use. Also I made sure there was no insect's inside the green house so we won't need repellents " Draco explained As he walked Harry into the small date he had set up in top of their apartments in the greenhouse. With limited resources draco could only set dinner over the ground with a bunch of candle lights lingering in the air and lion king movie paused over the laptop. He had managed to get to lay a few blankets over the ground as well as have a few to cover themselves with.

" this- wow " Harry stuttered amazed at how good everything actually looked

" it's not much. It's nothing compared to whatever I had planned but this is the best I could-"

" Draco " Harry grabbed Draco's arms and forced him to look at harry " the fancy restaurant or the concert or a good beach night, all these materialistic things doesn't matter to me. Yes they would've been nice but this- this is nothing compared to what we could've done. It doesn't matter how I spend my birthday Draco, it's who I spend it with. I don't want some fancy or a extravagant things to be happy on my birthday, I'm happy with you waking up next to me on my birthday, hell everyday. I don't need all these things, it's only you who matters to me, I just need you to acknowledge the days that's all. I've never been huge fans of extravaganza, it's people who matter and as long as I have you, I'm sure all my birthdays will be great " Harry told him as a stroked his arms gently..

" you get me? I love this. This is better than anything else you had planned. And to be frank those huge restaurant serves like a spoon of food for such huge amount Money, I'd much rather have this perfect pizza and champagne. I love you Draco and i love absolutely everything that you do for me. You trying is enough for me and I hope you understand that too, okay " Harry cupped his face giving him an understanding smile. Draco looked at harry for a moment before he nodded. Harry smiled before he placed a chaste kiss over Draco's lips , intertwining their hands and walking them into the greenhouse.

When they spent the entire night over the rooftop, watching movie, drinking, eating and eventually having the best sex, they realised that it was the most perfect night they could've asked for. Draco definitely didn't need to make reservations for Harry or buy him expensive gifts, he just needed Harry to know that he'd go over and beyond for him and that's what made it all perfect. The perfect combination of things is not materialism, it's people. Besides there Can be no perfection without flaw, so someday you just have to fuck it up or let it fuck up to realise there's beauty in flaws.

" of course Harry's the flaw and I'm the beauty " Draco chuckled as the told their friend's the story. Harry sat on his laps rolled his eyes, slapping him over the chest playfully.

" I'm the beauty, he's the flaw " Harry rolled his eyes again

" could you guys be anymore cheesy ?" Pansy rolled her eyes at the cringe worth couple.

Harry pouted before he said " no " and then he deliberately sloppily kissed Draco for a good measure.

And pansy groaned, but she of course knew, love like this doesn't happen twice and she was happy for them.

Requests open

Day 24- concealment charms | Day 26- after all this time, always the same

[notyourdayrdream]

Summer’s Almost Over (So Come Spend it with Me)

Day Thirty-one, Side A: Ostentatious

A/N: the final chapter :( i wanted to thank everyone who read either one chapter or all of them, it means so much. especially when i didn’t update for days at a time lol. i always knew what i wanted to do for the last chapter. this is a sequel to “for as long as you’re with me (or until my mama picks me up)” which takes place ten years after the original story ends. i’m posting it here and separately as an addition to the series. hope you enjoy :)

read it here on AO3

When Kurt was thirty-two, he pulled into a lake house in North Carolina.

Victoria was asleep in the backseat, her tiny three year old body propped up in her car seat. Blaine was asleep next to him, his head resting between the window and his shoulder. Kurt shook his arm lightly without taking his eyes off the gravel road. “Blaine, we’re here. Wake up.”

Blaine rose out of sleep slowly, stretching as much as he could in the confines of the rental car. He sat up and turned to Kurt. There was a reddened print from the seat belt adorably marking his face. “Where are my glasses?”

“Glove compartment,” Kurt said. He made a sharp turn right, which took them a bit closer to the water, where their rental house was.

Blaine smiled to himself and adjusted his frames. “Thank you. Oh, it’s so gorgeous.”

And it was. As they pulled into the gravel driveway, the house and the lake came into view. The sun shone down on the dark blue water and made it glisten. The brick pathway turned into a wooden one the closer it got to the lake, complete with a covered pier. The cottage itself was enclosed by trees and flowers. It seemed big from the outside, far too big for their family of three. There was a deck that swept over an entire side of the house, complete with two rocking chairs. An American flag lapped against the wind by the front door.

Kurt turned the key and practically ran out of the car, walking a bit to stretch his legs and cringing at the loud pops of his bones. God, he was getting old.

He watched from a distance as his husband pulled Victoria from the car, her sleeping body limp against his chest. Blaine seemed to speak softly to her, pointing at the lake and a small swing set. She gave a small nod, and her head lolled back onto his shoulder.

“Should I grab some bags?” Kurt called from his spot. He took a deep breath, and his nose tingled from the husky scent of the wood and water and smoke. Someone was grilling something.

“Let’s just check the place out first!” Blaine whisper-yelled back. “Then we can put this one down for a nap.”

The cottage was a high open concept, so big it shouldn’t even be considered a cottage. Blaine went to lay their daughter down while Kurt wandered aimlessly throughout the house. It was all wood, the same color top to bottom. It was honestly super ugly, but they were only staying a few days. Victoria’s first vacation that wasn’t in New York or to her grandparent’s house.

He was looking out across the water from the deck when he heard the sliding door creak open. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?” He asked without turning around.

Blaine hummed in agreement from behind him. “Tori’s gonna be out for a while. You wanna go on a walk?” He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around Kurt’s middle. When he spoke again, his chin pressed against his shoulder. “Or we could stay inside and do other stuff.”

Kurt turned around so they would be facing each other,

looking at Blaine with a small smirk. “Other stuff?”

“Like sex stuff.” Blaine fumbled with the buttons of Kurt’s open cardigan, looking up at him through his eyelashes.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Kurt’s laugh turned into a soft sigh when Blaine began sucking on the skin just below his jawline. After nearly a decade of being together, Blaine knew just how much that spot drove him crazy.

“Like what?” Blaine asked innocently, taking small kitten licks at his neck. His hands started moving down to Kurt’s jeans, teasing around his belt.

Kurt pulled him in for a kiss, sweet and slow. Blaine completely curved into him, wrapping his arms around his waist. They pressed into each other, Kurt’s back against the wooden railing.

They pulled away, foreheads resting together. When Blaine smiled, Kurt felt his lips curve up against his.

“You should go on a walk,” Kurt whispered practically into his mouth. “I’ll have dinner ready when you get back.”

His husband looked up at him. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah.” When Blaine hesitated, Kurt laughed and pushed him gently forward. “Go ahead.”

Kurt watched him leave and walk down the pebble path that trailed around the entire lake. Far off in the water, a group of teens splashed around in the water, a few of them laying on inflatable tubes. The sun was in the midpoint between setting and bright.

While Blaine was gone, Kurt decided to bring all of their bags into the house. He put their clothes away (it was too hot to wear the few sweaters and pairs of cabin socks Blaine had brought) and slid the suitcases into the closet. Victoria woke up from her nap not much later, full of energy. They swung on the swing set for a while and Kurt looked across the lake for any sight of Blaine.

“You wanna help Daddy with dinner?” Kurt asked, stopping the swing. Victoria whipped her head around, curly brown hair swishing behind her and falling over her shoulder.

“Yes!” She squealed, hopping off the screen and racing back towards the house, completely forgetting about the swing. Kurt chased after her, too concerned that she may fall. The girl was a total handful, and he was already dreading how she would be when she grew up.

Victoria did more dancing and singing than cooking. She and Kurt sang along to eighties hits on the TV, turning the volume up so high it could be heard from outside the house. He was wearing a ‘kiss the cook’ apron he had found in one of the drawers. It was absolutely hideous and stained but Kurt couldn’t help but put it on.

He was spooning broccoli onto a plate when the front door opened and shut, Blaine setting his set of keys in the kitchen counter. He said something, but it wasn’t loud enough to cut through the sound of the Thompson Twins harmonizing.

“Tori!” Kurt yelled. “Turn that off please!” He switched off the gas stove and moved to take off the apron, when Blaine swatted his hand away and wrapped his arms around Kurt’s neck.

“Stop that, it’s cute,” he said, swaying them back and forth.

Kurt rolled his eyes yet smiled. “It’s gross.” He spun Blaine around during the instrumental section of “Hold Me Now” like it was their wedding night. They laughed, hearty and loud.

Blaine leaned forward and kissed him, short and sweet. “Well I like the instructions it gives.” He looked up at Kurt, tracing the words with his finger.

“You’re such a dork,” he shook his head and smiled. And Blaine was giving him that look, the one that made arousal unfurl in his stomach and the blood rush to his face.

And Blaine knew it. He gave him that look all throughout dinner, even sucking the sauce off his finger in a way that was dirty and deliberate. They washed dishes as a family like they usually did, even if it dissolved into a soap war when Victoria splashed Kurt with soapy water.

Blaine cleaned the floors and Kurt gave their daughter a bath quickly. When he closed the door to her room for the week behind him, the lights were off in the living room and kitchen, replaced by various candles that mixed scents in the room. His husband sat on the black leather couch and turned to him, his hair washed from his gel and curled.

“What’s this?” Kurt sat on the couch and tucked his feet under him, accepting the glass of wine Blaine had poured. The gas fireplace sat aglow.

Blaine shrugged. “I just love you is all.” And even after all this time, the three words still made Kurt’s heart swell.

“I love you too,” he murmured, setting his and Blaine’s glasses down and crowding his space, kissing him silent.

Blaine threw himself back onto the couch and pulled Kurt on top of him, opening his mouth so he could lick into the heat of it. It was constant, the rocking of Blaine’s hips under him and the helpless whine that made Kurt’s lips buzz.

He slid his hand under Blaine’s shirt to feel the taut skin underneath, flicking his nipples swiftly and reveling in the moan that followed.

“Kurt…” Blaine’s hands roamed to the curve of his ass, pushing him forward so their erections pressed together in a dirty suggestion of what they could be doing. “Fuck me.”

Kurt groaned and pushed him further into the couch cushions, rocking forward and cupping his cheek with his free hand. The softness of the moment cooled them down, and Blaine curled into the touch. It was only when Kurt heard the sound of his belt being undone that he sat up. The look on Blaine’s face was nearly comical, eyes going wide with confusion.

“I’m not having sex on a leather couch, especially one that isn’t ours.” He laughed. When he led Blaine back to the master bedroom, his back peeled off the couch with a sound like velcro. They’d have to pick up their clothes from the hallway later.

They laid in the hammock after peeling themselves out of bed, laying half on top of each other in their briefs and a thin blanket. The moon shone against the water and the stars twinkled in the black sky.

“The people next door have a Lambo,” Blaine hummed into Kurt’s bare chest. “They parked it right in the front yard.”

“How ostentatious,” he said, chuckling softly. They listened to the quiet sounds of the nature around them; the crickets and frogs in the trees and wind rustling the oak leaves above them. It was still hot, not as much as it had been in the afternoon. Kurt swung them back and forth with his foot digging into the dirt below them.

“Do you have any regrets?” Blaine asked suddenly, causing Kurt’s heart to stop. “I mean, if you could, would you go back and do anything differently.”

Kurt could barely form the question. “What’s this about?” His mind was racing to every possible bad situation; Blaine wanted a divorce, he had a secret lover, he had killed someone. A few of them seemed worse than the others.

“My dad called.”

“Oh,” Kurt felt the fear slip out of his body. “What did he want?”

“He wanted to see Victoria, he said he missed me,” Blaine explained in a quiet voice, edged with apprehension.

“He can see her on Instagram.” Kurt couldn’t help the venom that dripped from the sentence. Mr. Anderson had been nothing but rude to not only Kurt for as long as he could remember, but his own son too. He remembered having to console Blaine the day after his wedding when his dad hadn’t shown up. For all he cared,

Mr. Anderson didn’t deserve to see his granddaughter.

Blaine sighed and sat up a bit further on Kurt’s chest. “That’s not really the point, honey.” His voice sounded thick, and Kurt intertwined their fingers and squeezed his hand.

“He missed me. And, I don’t know, shouldn’t I give him a second chance?”

“But the things he’s said to you Blaine. The things he’s said to me.”

There was a pregnant silence after that.

After they went public with their relationship in their early twenties, David Anderson became even more cold and harsh that he was when they were teens. They didn’t talk about it often, but Blaine would mention how hard it was to live with him. The screaming, the fights, the insults dripping with homophobia. It was a unanimous decision between them and the Hummels to not engage with Mr. Anderson unless it was necessary. Blaine had agreed, but Kurt knew it had to hurt.

“Some people don’t deserve a second chance,” Kurt grumbled after a while.

“He’s my father, Kurt!”

Blaine threw his arms out at that, the force of it tipping the hammock and sending the two of them sprawling onto the hard dirt ground.

“Oh my God, Blaine!” Kurt sat up immediately, ignoring the sharp stab of pain in his side. “Honey, are you okay?”

Blaine was laying still on his side, unmoving. Kurt’s blood ran cold. They had fallen pretty hard from a solidly high distance. Kurt crawled over to his husband, tears threatening to spill from his eyes when he still didn’t move.

“Blaine, please get up,” Kurt cried. It was too late to go for help, and holy shit, he had just killed his husband…

And then he heard laughter, and Blaine moved as if he were shivering.

Blaine sat up, tears spilling from his eyes as he laughed. He touched his head gingerly and winced. “Ow,” he groaned. Kurt could’ve passed out. But he started crying instead.

“Oh, Kurt.” Blaine pulled him closer, holding him in his arms.

In hindsight, Kurt felt a bit embarrassed about crying over a three foot fall. But it was the first time in a long time that he thought he had actually lost Blaine. And the emptiness from it terrified it just as much as it did the first time.

“Shh, Kurt. I’m okay,” Blaine said through a chuckle, kissing him on the forehead. Kurt gripped his shirt like it was the only thing holding him to the earth. “We’re okay.”

Blaine and Kurt went inside shortly after that, with the latter demanding Blaine should hold a bag of frozen peaches to his head. They fell asleep at nearly one in the morning after checking on Victoria and dusting dirt off their pajamas.

Kurt awoke with a jolt, sitting up to find the other side of the bed empty. The sun was just beginning to peek out from the horizon, a soft yellow glow in the window.

He slipped on a pair of slides and dragged a blanket with him outside onto the deck, stretching his arms over his head. Most of the lights in the other lake houses were off, and the only other person he saw was a woman walking a small dog. Until he caught his husband’s eye down at the dock.

It sometimes hit Kurt like a wave how handsome Blaine was, even from far away. His hair wasn’t his usual morning bird’s nest, combed down and contained just enough for Kurt to know he had brushed it. His muscles popped out of the thin long sleeve shirt he slept in, and when he smiled, his brown eyes crinkled.

“Awwh, Blaine!” Kurt gasped, looking down at the scene in front of him.

“Okay, okay,” Blaine stepped in front of him and adjusted his glasses. “Remember when we went out on our first date as boyfriends?”

“You mean when we got breakfast after I jumped you in your own apartment? Yes I do,” he grinned, already knowing where this was going.

Blaine nodded. “Right, and we went to that crappy diner and when I got steak and eggs you got—”

“Cheesecake,” Kurt pointed at the New York Style cheesecake sitting on a checkered blanket, raspberries and mint leaf sitting perfectly on top. “You made me cheesecake?”

Blaine’s smile faltered only slightly. “Um. Well about that. I tried to, I had the recipe and everything. And then I forgot the cheesecake dish at home.” Ah, so that was why Blaine seemed so freaked out when he looked through the bag of food after they left. “So I ordered one.”

“It’s perfect,” Kurt whispered and sat down at the edge of the dock, legs swinging over the edge.

“You’re my family, Kurt. You and Tori,” Blaine said as he sat down next to him. “I don’t need anything else. I just need you two.” He pulled a bottle of champagne and two glasses from behind him, pouring way too much.

Kurt opened his arms and wrapped them both in his blanket, cheesecake forgotten. For now. “Here’s to ten years of us.”

“More like twenty-five, if you include those years of pining,” Kurt interjected, much to Blaine’s chagrin.

“Fine, ten years of marriage,” he knocked against Kurt’s shoulder. “And to ten more.”

He looked down, feigning shock. “Only ten?”

Blaine just rocked forward and kissed Kurt’s cheek. “Happy anniversary, Kurt.” he smiled and took a sip of champagne, curling into his side and looking out across the water. There was nothing. more to say, not for now. They had everything they needed.

[turtletimewriting]

Wait Can you do OTP questions for Moxiety please?

1. Who has the cutest tickle laugh?

Aw man this is super tough. In all honesty, I think both of them are utterly completely in love with the other’s love. 

Virgil’s laugh is so joyous and so carefree, just the opposite of how he portrays himself. Patton just falls in love with Virgil all over again every time he hears it and that’s why he makes sure to hear that laugh every single day.

Patton’s laugh is exactly how you would think it would be. It’s purely childish, carefree, belly laughs with the occasional ear-splitting shriek. His face always goes all red and scrunchy. It’s so much more adorable than you expect, even after years of tickle fights and giggle fits. 

2. Who is ticklish in unusual places and where would that be?

Patton has some adorably ticklish ears. But, to make it weirder, his right ear is soooooo much more ticklish. It’s not often that Virgil gets the chance to properly tickle them as much as they deserve but he makes sure to treasures the moments he can. There’s no greater joy than taking a fluffy feather and curling around his right ear while whispering teases into his other ear. Seeing them slowly glow bright red, is worth tickling them alone but of course the frantic giggling and wimpy “stop!”s and “it tickles!” also makes it worth tickling them every chance Virgil can get. When he’s bored/anxious, they’re the perfect distraction and fidgeting thing.

3. Who gets cheer-up tickles?

To put a spin on this, Virgil always gets the cheer-up tickles but Patton also gets a weird moment of calm when tickling Virgil. To cheer-up Patton, you need to let him tickle you. When they’re both stressed or upset, they will curl up in their pjs under the bed blankets and Patton will slowly start to tickle Virgil. They’ll spoon and gentle tracing around his tummy will slowly turn into digging scribbles as he pins his arms down and holds his top up. For Virgil, letting himself laugh and relax into Patton’s firm cuddle is so grounding and distracting. For Patton, focusing on the tickles and knowing that no matter what Virgil will love him and he can always make Virgil laugh and look over him. 

4. Who takes advantage of the other one getting their arms stuck while taking off their shirt?

Patton is the ultimate tickle monster and will deliberately look for every single opportunity to give some tickles to his grumpy emo storm cloud! Virgil is useless in the morning and just fumbles around until things work. It’s not unusual for Patton to take pity and help him put his jumpers on. But, of course, his help comes with the fact of life that he will scribble down his sides as he pulls the jumper down. Oh and look this jumper is tightly stuck so it’s taking awhile. Oh please stand still Virge, I’ve just got to get it unstuck from the exact middle of your armpits. Lots of teasing which is really unfair as Virgil’s brain as yet to load and he’s forced to just stand there and try not to fall. He can’t even try to fight back, he’s just got to stand there and make sure his knees don’t melt. 

5. How did they discover each other’s ticklishness?

I don’t know why this sudden image came to me but! I can just imagine Patton cleaning the house after a good baking session and he pulled out a feather duster. He was practically glowing as he realised he must look like a 1950s housewife. Patton dances around the living room while twirling this feather duster. Virgil walks in and he jokingly swats him with the duster. Now, Virgil was wearing a thick jumper as per usual. There was no way it could possibly tickle. But yet his mind just panicked. He is the epitome of flight and fight. His brain convinces him that Patton somehow discovered his greatest secret and he must fight back. So he grabs the duster and quickly shoves it under Patton’s top to which Patton then immediately buckles and starts squealing. Virgil ends up tickling the snot out of his boyfriend. 

Afterwards, Patton asks just what on earth sparked that moment of playfulness and Virgil instinctually answers that he thought Patton would tickle him first. Which of course results a duster being shoved up his jumper in revenge. 

6. Who can’t take tickle bites?

Patton but not really for the reasons to be expected. He can take tickle bites but his ultimate weakness is raspberries. And he knows for a fact that if Virgil is doing tickle bites then raspberries are coming. The instant Virgil puts his mouth on him, he screaming and wiggling even faster. So Virgil uses tickle bites as anticipation for raspberries which makes them absolutely unbearable for Patton. 

7. Who has to be tickle-forced out of bed in the morning?

As mentioned earlier, Virgil is useless in the morning but Patton wants them both to wake up at the same time just like in all the love films and books. It becomes a game between them. Patton will wake up and still see his darling boyfriend dead to the world in his arms and he will gently tickle up and down his sides. “Oh, just how I love waking up to these summer mornings with my darling boyfriend, who’s definitely awake and enjoying the morning with me. You can tell he’s awake and ready for the beautiful day awaiting us because he’s just giggling at the thought of enjoying today!”. 

8. Who gives up in a tickle fight?

Surprisingly Patton. Patton enjoys tickles with absolutely no shame, maybe some embarrassment and blushing but he will “oh no!” become suddenly weak and helpless and so forced to sit there and just enjoy those tingly tickles. Sometimes, even he he is fighting back, he will deliberately stop for a second to just enjoy Virgil’s giggles as he wrecks his tickle monster boyfriend. He just wants to enjoy the open joy Virgil is feeling. If Patton has one ultimate weakness, it would be Virgil. He’d take all the tickles in the world to see Virgil having fun and messing about.

9. Who is in danger of getting hurt when attacking the other?

Virgil is the most danger when tickling Patton. Patton always wants to enjoy his tickles and so he tries with all of his might and strength to enjoy them and sit still. But, he’s not very strong. Virgil will think Patton is just lying there and will focus on his tickling and then suddenly it becomes too much and Patton kicks out violently with no warning. Virgil has had quite a few bruises from Patton to which Patton almost cries over hurting him. 

10. Who always provokes the other into tickling them and how?

Hmm, a bit of both. Virgil knows that tickling someone is a great stress release for Patton and so he will go through subtle hints like “oh my foot is super itchy” or “could you give me a massage” to some outright storming into his room with his shirt pulled up and his tummy proudly showing to the world. There have been times where Virgil thinks that Patton is more stressed than he is but Patton will never turn down a blushing Virgil asking for tickles. 

For Patton, he thinks he’s super subtle but he’s really not. He’s the one to wear an outfit to ‘hint’ at tickles. Virgil will be eating his bowl of cereal, slowing waking up, and Patton will walk in with short shorts, a crop top and knee high socks with ‘tickle me’ written across the soles. Subtle, obviously. It’s through this that Patton actually realises that he loves knee high socks and he loves that tracing over them makes things so much more ticklish! Soft tickles don’t really work for him for him on bare soles but the soft tickles over the fluffy socks really get him!

[jadekitty777]

On the Precipice of Trust

Fff alright, time for my personal favorite of the three I’ll be posting this weekend. I hope you all will like it too!

Day 2: Scars

Dedicated to: @saenda for unknowingly encouraging me to finish this one. I took an educated guess that your tumblr name and Ao3 name are the same lol

Rating: T, because Qrow had to be an inappropriate asshole

Words: Almost 9k

Summary: When Clover mysteriously doesn't show up for mission assignments, Qrow fears another betrayal is on the horizon and decides to go investigate. Instead of finding the man scheming with General Ironwood, he discovers Atlas' famed boy scout is just a bit under the weather. 

But Qrow quickly realizes that there's more to the captain's sickness than just a simple cold. And even more to Clover himself, well hidden under all those cheerful smiles.

Ao3 Link: On the Precipice of Trust

~

Suspicion immediately wove into Qrow’s mind when Harriet went up to the mission board and started the announcement process.

“Alright everyone, I’m going to be assigning the missions for today!” Her voice boomed over the room.

Keeping his tone light and casual, he asked, “Where’s Mr. Lucky?”

“According to the General, he’s indisposed for today.” Harriet sidestepped, before turning to the board.

In the corner of his eye, he saw the various ways some of the kids reacted. Ruby sat up a little straighter. Blake’s left ear twitched. Yang started to curl a thread of her hair around her finger. All subtle, but all on the same wavelength.

This was what they had been waiting for.

~

As Yang, Blake and he crossed the courtyard towards the transport ships, Qrow spared the academy a look, then said, “Alright kiddos, I’m gonna vanish for a bit.”

“Right.” Yang’s tone betrayed her unease.

“Firecracker?”

“It’s just-” She stopped, halting the rest of them. She looked towards him with a frown, “Do you really think the General will betray us?”

Qrow frowned, his gaze drifting towards the skyline. “I never thought Leo would. Or Oz. So, safe to say my judge of character is pretty shit.”

“Then am I just dumb?”

That had Qrow’s gaze snapping back to her.

Blake’s ears had fallen. “Yang…”

“I, just, feel like I’m the only one who doesn’t suspect him.” She offered hesitantly, rubbing her hand over her metal wrist.

He followed the movement, reaching out to place a hand over the metal limb. “You wanting to see the best in someone isn’t dumb, especially for someone who’s done so much for you. Actually, you share that quality with Summer.” He snorted in amusement. “Granted, you’re a little more careful. …A lot more, actually. Sums was the type to trust a pickpocket to hold her wallet.”

That earned him a chuckle and he took it as a personal victory.

“Believe me, I would like nothing more than to be wrong. That’s why being cautious is the smart thing to do.”

Yang sighed. “I wish we didn’t have to.”

“Maybe one day, we won’t have to.” Was his own offer of condolence. “You two get out of here. I’ll catch up with you if it turns out to be nothing.”

With that, they went their own ways. Yang and Blake to the transport that would take them to the Grimm extraction mission down in Mantle. Him in the sky on his unofficial reconnaissance mission.

Qrow was so tired of being betrayed. Of feeling like he had to second guess every action of every so-called friend. He didn’t want to suspect James. Hell, he especially didn’t want to suspect Clover – though, he’d be the first to say his decision on that wasn’t entirely sound, if his growing attraction to the handsome brunet had anything to say about it.

That was what was on his mind as he flew past the General’s office, finding it empty. He gave a squawk of annoyance, before starting to circle the building.

Maybe this was just what trust looked like during a time of war. Spying on their own allies at every hint of unusual behavior and second-guessing every word spoken. The more he thought about it, the more he had to wonder if it was going both ways. Were the Aceops offering to train the kids because they truly wanted to hone their skills, or were they secretly hoping one of them would trip up over intel that they could report back to James? Was Clover assigning their missions together because he enjoyed his company or because he could keep an eye on him?

The idea filled him with dread. It only worsened when he considered that to do that, James would have had to order it. A year ago, he would have said that was a ridiculous thought.

But things had changed so much since Beacon fell. With him. With the world. With – Clover.

Wait. Clover?!

Qrow canted to the left, circling back to the window he had just flown past. Another glimpse told him his sight had been true. He dared to draw in closer, landing on one of the fancy panes that decorated the window in crystal-shaped formations. He tucked his wings in so the wind couldn’t carry him away and peered into the room.

The man was shambling around a small studio not too unlike the accommodations Qrow himself had been provided upon his arrival. There were personal touches here and there that he noticed on first glance – a plotted plant right on the other side of the glass, a shelf full of books, a ship in a bottle displayed on a desk. His focus mostly remained on Clover though.

The other huntsman was a mess. He seemed to be walking with a deliberate slowness, an arm around his stomach as he carried a small cup to his bedside. His normally upkept hair was a disheveled tangle and his face seemed pale and gaunt. He hadn’t even gotten out of his nightwear, still in dark grey sweats, a green undershirt and – were those slippers? Shaped like goldfish?

If he wasn’t currently a bird, Qrow would have rolled his eyes.

The ridiculous smiley abominations didn’t last long, Clover kicking them off his feet as he climbed back into bed and huddled under the covers. He looked absolutely miserable. Sick as he obviously was, Qrow was pretty sure he could believe Clover wouldn’t be up to anything nefarious for the rest of the day – and probably not the rest of the week either.

Qrow spread his wings and let the wind currents take him away. He headed towards the docking bay, figuring he could join the girls on the mission now.

~

He didn’t think about Clover again until he was shuffling into the mess hall behind the girls. Not everyone had made it back yet, but Jaune practically pleading for Marrow and Elm to take some of the casserole he’d no doubt been given (seriously, that was the third one this week) reminded him quite suddenly of their missing leader and his poor state.

While Blake secured them a table and Yang and he got in line, he took out his scroll, sending out a quick message. You eat yet?

The response came only a few moments later. No, why?

So he was awake. Good.

How about some soup? I know you’re not feeling well.

He was almost at the front of the line before he got his answer. That would be good. And then, like an afterthought: Thank you.

Qrow dutifully ignored his eldest niece’s knowing look as he ordered the turkey sandwich and chicken noodle soup to go.

He couldn’t quite ignore her teasing tone as he joined her by the pick-up counter. “What’s wrong Uncle Qrow? Feeling a little under the weather?”

“Hush.” He bumped his shoulder against hers. “He’s got to eat.”

“Oh yes. I’m certain there’s no ulterior motive there at all.” Her grin was almost predatory.

Too bad for her he had played this game much longer then her – and was better at it too. He lent over, murmuring, “Yang, it’s called ‘having game’. And honestly? Considering my dinner dates often end in a nice roll in the hay and you can’t even get past hand-holding with your little pussy cat over there, you might just want to bow to the master here.”

Her eyebrows practically hit her hairline. “You’re the worst!”

“That’s not what Clover’s going to be saying.” His smirk grew. “In fact, he might just elect me as Remnant’s newest god.”

She buried her flaming face into her hands. “Oh my gods.”

“Yeah, exactly like that!”

All things told, he probably deserved the punch.

~

When he reached Clover’s room, he was surprised to find the door was already open a crack. He pushed it the rest of the way with his foot, announcing as he did, “Special delivery!”

Clover was in the same spot he’d been in this morning, huddled under his blankets on the bed – the only difference being he was sitting up at least. Despite the fact he was looking like death warmed over, he managed a smile in his direction. “Hey.”

Qrow grimaced at the hoarseness in his voice. That had to be painful. He kicked the door closed, heading across the room. “You sound like you swallowed a cheese grater.”

“You always this charming to invalids?” Clover joked.

“Nah, I reserve it only for optimistic assholes like you.”

That graced him with a small chuckle.

Qrow set the bag down on the nightstand, pulling out the container of soup and a plastic spoon. As he handed it over, he asked, “Seriously though, how are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a truck and, when the driver found out I was still alive, backed up over me again.” Clover set the container in his lap, pulling off the plastic top. “Thank you, again, for this. I probably won’t be able to finish it though.”

He waved it off, plopping down on the edge of the bed. “Don’t worry about it. Better you have something than nothing.”

“Suppose so.” He blew on the first spoonful, sipping on the broth. “How’d you know I was sick? I only told James.”

“Uh.” Shit. To make himself appear busy, he riffled through the bag for his sandwich, mind working on overdrive to come up with a plausible excuse. “You just didn’t look so hot after coming in yesterday, so I put two and two together.”

It was a gamble, but unlike their games of poker, this one actually paid off.

“I’m surprised you noticed. I’m usually more discreet.”

He shoved the first bite in his mouth. “You make it sound like you don’t want anyone to know when you’re sick. What’s wrong? Worried about people knowing the Captain of the Best isn’t as infallible as he seems?”

“Careful. If you keep being this observant, you’re going to reveal all my secrets.” He framed it like a joke, but there seemed to be a lack of humor in it.

Qrow paused, side-eyeing him. “You alright?”

“Hm? Oh. Yeah.” Clover sighed, slumping back against the headboard. “Just tired, I guess.”

That rose a weird set off alarm bells, and he couldn’t help but sweep an eye over the small studio, almost expecting an Apathy to be hiding in the corner. Of course there wasn’t, the room empty beyond themselves and whatever program was playing on the TV at such a low volume it was almost inaudible.

“It’s frustrating actually.”

He turned his attention back to the other. “What is?”

“Just that-” He frowned, then shook his head. “No, nevermind. It’s nothing.”

It was with way more satisfaction then he should have had against an ill man when he came back with, “Now who’s deflecting?”

Clover blinked, then chuckled weakly, seeming to slump further. “Got me there…” He stirred his soup, already having lost interest in it. “I was sick not too long ago. It was some real awful thing; my throat was so sore I could barely eat. Hardly could get out of bed, either. The day you guys landed was actually only my second day back.”

Qrow did some quick calculations. That was only six weeks ago. “That normal for you, boy scout?”

“Not really.” He sighed. “And this couldn’t be a worse time for it. We need to get Amity up and Mantle’s defenses fine-tuned and the newbies training is still behind and-”

“And maybe that’s the problem.”

“What?”

Was he really going to have to spell it out? He rolled his eyes. People needed to learn when to half-ass it, like him.

“I mean, you’re overworking yourself, genius.” He could already see the argument brewing. Too bad for Clover, years of being a professor and having to deal with overachieving students had given him all the ammo he needed. “And yeah, I know. Everything you’ve got to do is important. But, so are you hotshot. So, maybe don’t run yourself into the ground?”

He thought about, but didn’t add, how thanks to him keeping tabs on nearly every single member of the Ace-ops, he also knew Clover almost never left his office until it was nearly midnight but was still the first to rise at dawn. That any tasks James didn’t have time for on his already overbooked schedule fell to him. That he was both running and assigning missions, handling reports and regimes, and somehow still managed to find time to provide Qrow with daily life advice that probably came from his desk calendar.

Overworked probably didn’t even begin to describe it.

Clover seemed to mull over his words quietly, running a hand over his chest with a grimace. “I know you’re right. But there’s still so much to do.”

“I think we can handle things for a few days.” He reassured.

“I don’t doubt you can. You’re all incredible. It’s just hard, knowing everyone else is giving their all while I’m just… here. Not contributing.” He ladled another spoonful of soup, raising it. “Oh! Maybe I can still do the paperwo-”

Without warning, a shake ran through Clover and his left hand suddenly spasmed, the utensil he’d been holding falling right back in the soup, splattering the bedsheets.

They both stared down at it, then Qrow gave him a look. “Might want to work on finishing dinner first, pal.”

He’d kindly let Clover pretend the flush that rose to his cheeks was only from fever.

~

They watched sci-fi dramas all night.

Or, Qrow did at least. Clover kept dozing off every few minutes. It was never for long, because whatever dreams his feverish mind was conjuring kept jerking him awake, one time hard enough he accidentally kicked Qrow in the leg. It was during one of these fitful tosses that an arm landed on his stomach with enough impact to knock the wind from him.

“Oof!”

Clover startled, his eyes opening. After a few blearily blinks, he started to draw away. “Sorry, sorry-”

“It’s fine.” Qrow waved him down – it wasn’t like it had hurt – when something caught his eye. “Hey, wait.” Much to both their surprises, he caught Clover’s wrist, pulling the arm back towards him, staring intently on the marks he saw there. Raised, red bumps, starting at the joint and going down the length of his forearm. Like a rash almost.

They weren’t there before, were they?

“Does this hurt?” He asked, running a finger along the skin as lightly as he could. Hot to the touch, but hard to say if it was just from fever. “You’ve had the chicken pox, right?”

They didn’t look quite right for pox though. When his nieces had gotten it, their spots hadn’t turned the skin around them red and the blemish had covered the entire area of their body, not just patches. Still, he heard it was different for adults, almost dangerously so. He remembered Tai had quarantined him from the house, when Qrow revealed he had no idea if he’d ever caught it or not.

“Clover?” He asked as the silence stretched, glancing over at him to make sure he hadn’t drifted off again.

Wide green eyes stared back at him, the man only seeming to realize that he was waiting for something when their gazes met. “Oh, uh. No. I mean, yes. I mean – what was the question?”

That blush was also not from fever.

He may have felt proud, if Clover didn’t appear so out of it.

“You. Chicken pox. Had it?”

“Oh. Yeah, a’course. Hit all of us at once.” Qrow thought maybe he meant fellow classmates or siblings, until Clover added, mumbling the rest into his pillow. “Sister Lisa was so upset when she couldn’t take in anyone new at the sanctuary for almost a month.”

His brows furrowed. “Got a feeling you ain’t talking ‘bout a church sanctuary.”

“No.” He shifted onto his side. “I mean, Sister Lisa was religious, but the only reason she called the home that was because she thought orphan was an ugly word. She was right, in a way. Learned not to let bad labels define me – so I could thank her for that lesson at least.” He gave a half-hearted shrug, wincing when he did.

Which gave Qrow the out he needed to bypass the uncomfortable conversation. “You alright?”

“Ugh.” He grunted, rubbing a hand over the muscle and trying to roll out the ache. The movement only seemed to cause him more pain. “You know those dolls, where you can move all the limb parts?”

“Yeah.”

“I feel like some kid got ahold of a voodoo version of me and pulled them all off.”

He snorted. “Hate to tell ya, but it was probably one of my kids.”

“Well, when I find them, I’m court martialing them.” Clover grumbled.

The poor joke still won a laugh. That then won a yawn.

Which didn’t go unnoticed even by a man on the verge of death. “You should go. It’s probably late.”

“Yeah, it is.” Qrow conceded reluctantly. “What about your arm?”

He rose the splotchy appendage to eye level, reporting, “Well I won’t be entering any beauty pageants anytime soon, that’s for sure.”

“Clover-”

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” He waved him off, curling further into his blanket cocoon. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

Qrow regarded him skeptically, but ultimately didn’t pry. He knew what it was like, being mother-henned; and while Tai and Summer always meant well, it wasn’t always enough to combat the embarrassment that would often result from their good-hearted meddling. He wasn’t about to inflict that on his newfound friend that he maybe, kind of, liked.

A lot.

“Alright well,” He started as he finally slipped off the bed. “Try to feel better at least.”

“I will. I got all the luck in the world.”

Qrow gave him a look. “I’m going to let you get away with that smartassary only because you’re sick.”

“So kind and giving.” He joked. “And since you are, you’ll get the light, right?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He headed for the door, running his fingers down the dial that was next to it until the room darkened. As he stepped into the hall, he added. “Good night Clover.”

“Night. And thanks, for keeping me company.”

Qrow glanced back. The glow of the TV was just enough for him to catch the soft smile aimed his way that left his heart fluttering and his own mouth twitching upwards. “Yeah, anytime.”

As he shut the door and headed for his own room, he pulled out his scroll to set his alarm clock back an extra twenty minutes. He was sure Clover would appreciate breakfast too, right?

~

There were many things Qrow was – a morning person was not one of them. Those who knew him were very aware if it was before 9 AM to not bother him until he’d had at least one cup of coffee. If it was spiked, wait until noon; or better yet, just pretend he didn’t exist on the mortal plane at all. How he’d ever managed to survive as a school teacher outside of just sheer willpower was completely beyond him.

So it was a rare feeling to be so chipper first thing in the morning, strolling through the halls with a spring in his step, no one around to see except for the robotic janitors tidying up for the day. As he hit the last leg to his destination, he checked his messages, not surprised to see Clover hadn’t responded. He probably wasn’t even up yet.

Which was why he had brought nothing that wouldn’t keep until he got up. The tray he was carrying only had a banana, a bowl with a ‘just add hot water’ oatmeal package sitting in it and a similarly bundled up cup with a lemon tea bag and a honey packet. He set it down next to the door, knocking a few times. “Clover! Breakfast is by the door!”

He waited, pressing his ear against the metal.

Not even a stir.

Well, he could always peek in on him from the window. For altruistic purposes only, he told himself as he headed for the fire escape. When no emergency was going on, the doors were kept locked to prevent students from hiding in there whenever they wanted to skip class – but James had long ago given Qrow the override code, because they were some of the only windows in the entire facility that had latches on them and the one place which had cameras only pointing at the stairwell entrances.

Not really a blind spot, unless becoming a bird was an option.

It wasn’t long before the icy wind was under his wings and he was circling the building. He knew he’d found the right room when he spotted the bamboo plant sitting at its place in front of the window. He landed on one of the panes just as he had the day before.

There was just enough light from the rising sun to stretch into the darkened room, spreading halfway across the lump laying in the bed. Though the plant was blocking Clover’s upper half, Qrow noticed how the blankets at the end of the bed were spilling down the side, probably kicked off from the same feverish fits that had bothered him during the evening. Qrow also spotted how the man’s left pant leg had rolled up, revealing the same rash he’d seen before was now spreading along the calf. He twittered anxiously, hopping to a higher pane to get a good look at the man’s face.

Red took up his vision like a blooming scarlet rose.

He hopped off with a squawk of panic, speeding back to the window. In his panic, he shifted too soon, grunting as his ribs collided with the sill, knees cracking against the wall outside. Ignoring the sting, he scrambled over, landing inside and taking the stairs two at a time until he was stumbling back out in the hallway. As he sprinted down it, he yanked out his scroll, hitting redial on one of the top recent contacts.

It felt like forever before James answered, voice thick with exhaustion, “Qrow? What are-”

He cut him off with a shout, “James! I need you to give me the code to Clover’s room, now!”

“What?” The general seemed to snap to attention, tone shifting from sleepy to alarmed. “Why? What’s happening?”

“He’s bleeding!” The vision filled his head again. Red, so much red, pooling around Clover’s head and soaking his pillow. Like he’d been stabbed. Or shot. The image was so jarring, he almost missed the door, skidding to a stop and slamming his fist against it. If only Harbinger wasn’t still back at his place, he wouldn’t have even bothered with the call. “Give me the damn code already! Hurry!”

Rather than a verbal response, there was a click from the panel and then the door flung open seemingly by itself.

Qrow didn’t question it, rushing inside. He put his scroll onto speaker mode before tossing it on the bed as he rounded it. He pulled down the blankets to check for other wounds while his other hand pressed against the man’s pulse point. Everything looked normal, though he spotted more of that rash outbreaking along his collarbone.

“There’s a medical team on the way. Qrow, talk to me. What are his vitals?” His friend called.

“Heartbeat’s too fast and irregular.” He replied, grateful for something to focus on. He shifted to Clover’s face and, this close, he realized the blood wasn’t quite as copious as his fearful mind had conjured up. There was splatters of it here and there, like blots of red ink, and a circular splotch surrounding the middle to lower half of the man’s face. “Not losing as much blood as I thought.”

“Where’s the wound?”

He squinted, seeing a lot of it congealed onto his upper lip and announced faintly, “It’s uh… it’s a nosebleed.”

He was allowed to feel a little foolish for about two seconds, before James spoke up, “Is he awake?”

“No.”

“That’s not normal. Clover’s a light sleeper, he should have woken up when you walked in.”

Qrow took that in, before he shook the man’s shoulder, softly at first then, when it failed to do anything, harder. “Clover? Hey, come on, get up.” The other man didn’t even seem to stir. “Nothing, he’s out cold.”

He heard James curse softly, the only sign of his own worry that he quickly stamped back down. “Breathing? Eyes?”

“Breathing’s labored, pretty raspy.” He gently pulled back an eyelid, seeing the pupil constrict as the light hit it. “But eyes are dilating.” That was good. That meant his mind was still working. He rested a hand along his chest, trying to feel if maybe fluid had built up in his lungs, only to frown when he noticed something else. “His heart’s not doing good James. It’s going way too fast. This can’t just be a sickness, right?”

“I don’t know.” He replied honestly. “But I’m forwarding this to the medical ward. They’ll know what to do.”

Qrow took a deep breath. “Okay. What else should I do?”

“Just stay with him. The team should be there soon to bring him down.” A pause. “And I’m right here too.”

Two emotions hit him in rapid succession. The first was relief, knowing he could count on James to keep him calm if Clover started to die right in front of him or something. The second was guilt. He’d spent so much time doubting James’ aims but, bullheaded methods aside, in the end, he was still a good man willing to look out for the people around him.

It made Qrow wonder how he’d ever jumped to the conclusions he had. Was he just becoming just like Oz? So suspicious of everyone around him, that he refused to trust anyone?

As he heard rapid footfalls coming down the hall, he made a silent vow to talk to Ruby after all this was over.

~

Throughout his travels, Qrow had met many people and, with a lifestyle like his, quite a few of those chance meetings were with folks in the medical profession. Yet, none of them quite matched the quick efficiency and brutal tongue-lashing of Dr. Callister. She was quite frankly a little intimidating, especially when after she was done commanding her staff to get this machine working or that test done, she whirled on him to grill him for all he was worth. And once he was done answering her questions, she promptly kicked him out of the room with sharp orders to stay out of her way or else.

That was why, when the General arrived, he found Qrow sulking outside in the hall like a delinquent waiting to be called in to the principal’s office.

“I see you’ve met Dr. Callister. She’s quite proficient, isn’t she?” James observed.

He did not at all appreciate the slight humor in his tone. “Woman’s a witch.” He pushed off from the wall, demanding, “And where have you been? It’s been, like, an hour!”

In answer, the man pulled out his scroll, the holo display showing a message having been received only minutes ago. “Updates take time and I had other arrangements to attend to, so I asked to be notified when something more concrete was known.”

He was tempted to call his friend out on turning a medical crisis into something he just ‘fit’ into his schedule, but the excited texts he’d been receiving from his nieces told him just what else his friend had been doing. “Like giving the kids the day off?”

“We don’t know whether Clover’s ailment is natural or not. Until we do, proper precautions aren’t ill-advised.” James replied.

Qrow frowned, mulling that over. Salem certainly would stand to gain a lot of headway by eliminating Clover, taking out the Ace-Op’s leader and James’ right hand in one fell swoop. It would completely shake the Atlas inner circle with an equal devastation to knocking down a load-bearing wall in a building. Yet, even if that was her aim, it didn’t really add up. If she had that kind of power, why stop at Clover? Why not just take out the headmaster himself? Or better yet, all of them?

He didn’t get a chance to broach his thoughts before the door was sliding open and the good doctor came marching out.

“Ah, Anora! So lovely to-”

“Don’t you Anora me, James.” She cut him off as she came to stand before him, her eyes ablaze. “Would you care to tell me why I was not properly informed of Captain Ebi’s condition sooner?”

“I, uh, well-”

Wow. And he thought Glynda was the only one who could strike James speechless.

“More importantly,” She continued on as if her commanding officer wasn’t even speaking, “Why was he allowed to go untreated six weeks ago?”

That drew the General to attention, a severe look crossing over his features. “He informed me he had gone to see you.”

“And yet, you failed to verify that with me?”

Having heard just about enough, Qrow cut in sharply, “Hey doc, if you didn’t happen to notice, the General’s been a bit busy handling – oh, I don’t know. Everything.” He waved a hand dismissively. “So the boy scout missed a doctor’s appointment, what’s the big deal?”

He kind of regret speaking when she whirled on him. “The big deal is Mr.-?”

“Qrow.”

“Mr. Qrow,” She continued without missing a beat, “Is that Clover is notorious for ignoring his own health needs to a near foolhardy degree. The General here is quite aware of that fact, and is supposed to inform me whenever I am to expect him in my office so that we assure he doesn’t skip it.”

He snorted. That sounded ridiculous. “What? Is he afraid of needles or something?”

“I believe we’re getting off track.” James intervened hurriedly. “Anora, what is Clover’s status?”

Oh. Qrow realized, side-eyeing his friend. There was something he didn’t want him to know.

His attention fell back to the doctor as she spoke up. “Currently stable. We’re managed to bring him back to consciousness, though he’s very disoriented and weak. It’s one of the most severe cases of Rheumatic fever I’ve ever seen.”

The only indication he had that whatever had just been said was bad was in the way James tensed up beside him.

“Uh, hey doc?” Qrow rubbed a hand over the back of his head. “Mind explaining that for those of us less cognitively gifted?”

By gods, the woman could smile. “It’s a disease that can develop when strep throat goes untreated. You recall informing me that Clover had expressed to you he’d been ill a few weeks ago as well, yes?”

“Yeah?” He also remembered the way Dr. Callister’s eyes had lit up in sudden realization over what he had believed to be entirely useless information.

“Well, six weeks ago, I also just happened to be dealing with a rather rampant number of cases of strep throat among the facility and students. Not unusual, it’s a highly contagious infection. But it can only be properly treated with antibiotics. Clover was among the ones afflicted, but because he failed to seek treatment, it resulted in a new complication.”

He frowned, not liking where this was going. “This Rue-fever thing?”

“Precisely. Everything you’d listed out matched up.” She rose a hand, ticking the fingers off as she listed them, “Fever. Rashes. Joint pain. Jerky movements. Nosebleeds. So, I had my staff do a throat swab, and we got a positive on the streptococcus bacteria. I’ve already got him on the first dose antibiotics.”

“That’s good then, right? Pop a few pills and he’ll be good as new.”

James was the one to speak up, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s… not so simple. Rheumatic fever damages the heart.”

He didn’t need to have a doctorate to know that was bad. “Wait, what?! So he was having a heart attack?”

The doctor shook her head. “Nothing quite so dramatic; at least, not right now. Though, the tissue decay can weaken the valves or muscle itself and that can cause future issues. Rest assured, we’re monitoring it closely and if further treatment is needed or even surgery-”

Surgery?!

“-He’ll be in the best of care.”

Qrow felt like the whole world had shaken underneath him.

However, James, whose own heart was nothing more than metal and oil, merely nodded. “I know he will be Anora. Thank you for all your hard work.”

“As much as the flattery is appreciated, you’ll find it will get you nowhere.” She said, donning her rough exterior once more. “I am going to make it very clear this cannot happen again. So, I don’t know what sense you need to knock into that boy, but do it.”

“I… will discuss it with him.”

“See that you do. And give this one a raise.” She waved vaguely in Qrow’s direction. “Clover certainly would have been worse off had he not been around.”

He blinked. Now that was a sentence he never thought he’d hear.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me gentleman, I have my duties to attend to. I’ll inform you of any updates and when he’s ready for visitors.”

Without further ado, the woman about-faced, heading back to her office without so much as a dismissal. In the silence left in her wake, Qrow could only find one word to accurately describe the whole situation.

“Fuck.”

“Indeed.”

He glanced over at James, seeing the man sag some as he allowed himself to feel the weight of the world for a minute. Strangely, he was reminded of Oz; airing on an infallible image to most, but in private and trusted company, allowed for some of the cracks to show.

“Hey,” He reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You know this isn’t on you, right?”

A sigh. “The wellbeing of my team should always be a top priority. I should have known better.”

“You still can’t expect to control anyone’s choices. Clover was the one who decided.” And almost died for it, Qrow thought but didn’t add. “What’s his deal anyways? He’s not actually needle-phobic, is he?”

James chuckled softly. “No. And I’m afraid that’s not something I’m at liberty to share freely. Although…” He eyed him over thoughtfully. “You two have certainly grown close.”

“Uh, I wouldn’t say that.” He shifted away to lean back against the wall. “I mean, sure I guess we’ve talked a lot but, well, those rides to Amity are long and boring is all.”

“Qrow, in all the years I have known him, Clover has never been open to sharing with anyone when he’s ill.”

He knew what James was trying to imply, but the feeling of being ‘special’ to someone was so foreign it just felt uncomfortable to fathom. Besides, it wasn’t exactly like he’d come across that knowledge honestly. He slid down a bit, crossing his arms. “Was probably just the fever getting to his head.”

“I suppose anything’s possible.” He hummed. “I really must get back, but I’ll keep you updated on his condition.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“And Qrow?” The knowing look James shot him was more powerful than one from his revolver. “If you want to know for sure, I suggest you ask him yourself.”

As his friend retreated down the hall, Qrow was left wondering if he’d been talking about Clover’s strange phobia or his feelings for him.

~

His chance came 36 hours later. He was just dragging his feet through the doorway of the academy after a rather brutal series of Grimm extraction missions, when a ping on his scroll alerted him to the news.

Clover’s awake and doing well. Already gone to visit. He’s in room 7A.

He glanced up from James’ message, calling, “You kids go on ahead. I got something to take care of.”

“But Uncle Qrow!” Ruby said as she bounced on her heels, still hyped up on adrenalin. “Oscar says they have strawberry cake in the mess hall!”

“Save me a piece.” He waved over his shoulder as he headed down the hall. Faintly, he thought he may have heard Weiss’ muttering that she’d make no such promise if Nora arrived. He chuckled, certain his waistline wouldn’t miss the 60 grams of sugar.

Besides, Qrow found his appetite mysteriously disappearing as he approached the medical wing. He followed the directions given to him by the receptionist to room 7A, pausing outside the door in a panic as he wondered if maybe he should have brought something. Didn’t people usually buy gifts or flowers? Desperately, he snatched up the first thing he could spot – a handful of fake begonias sitting in a vase on a utility cart, before he made his way inside.

Streamlined for efficiency, the small room offered little beyond a window to look out at the night sky, a closet-sized bathroom, and a corner-mounted TV. The rest of the space was filled with the necessities every hospital seemed to have: a series of machines placed around or mounted onto walls, various jarred items like swabs and cotton balls organized on a counter, an IV stand, and a wheel-around bed. Which, of course, held only one occupant.

Clover was resting on his back, in nothing but a light green hospital gown that, oddly, seemed to suit him. Wires ran underneath the fabric and the steady beep that filled the air gave away where they were attached to. One arm had a steady IV drip going through it, but the other he had hovering above his face. His fingers were jerking about in such a manner it almost made him look possessed. So intent on what he was doing, he hadn’t even noticed he had a guest, until Qrow finally announced his presence.

“Trying to puppeteer your face?”

“Oh!” Clover started, head swiveling about, a brief jump to the heart monitor giving away his startlement. “Qrow! I, uh, wasn’t expecting you.”

“No one ever is.” He crossed over to plop into the only chair in the room. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m good. I’m great!” He said a little too quickly as he sat up with some effort. “Just have a lingering pins and needles effect in my arms and legs, but Dr. Callister says that’s normal.”

That explained the weird voodoo motions.

Before he could think to pry, Clover pointed down at the flowers, asking, “Are those for me?”

“Huh? Oh, right. Here!” Qrow practically shoved the bouquet in his face. “Get well and all that.”

Those unfairly fetching green eyes peered at him over the pale pink blossoms before reaching up to take them. “Thanks.” He brought them close, as if to smell them, only to pause in confusion. “They’re… fake?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, struggling for a plausible excuse that wasn’t ‘I stole them’. “Well yeah, I wasn’t sure if you were allergic so I, um…”

“Hedged your bets?” Clover supplied with a grin.

“Hah. Funny.” He made a mental note to never leave him, Tai and Yang in a room together. They’d probably have a pun off.

Chuckling, Clover dropped the flowers into his lap. “Well, it was very thoughtful.” He heaved a long sigh, resting back against his pillows. Despite all his assurances, he already looked exhausted.

Like the night before. Qrow took the easy out as he looked around the room. “Hey why don’t we try to finish up that season of Border Control? They were just about to unravel that cipher in the diary and – oh, there’s the remote.” He stretched his arm to reach the little stand by the bed, plucking the device from the plastic organizer it was housed in. He took note that it was filled with a few of Clover’s personal items, like his pin. As he pulled it back, the remote snagged the corner of it, tipping it over and spilling the contents across the table and floor. “Ah, shit!”

He overturned his own chair as he dove across the floor to catch the man’s scroll as it skidded over the edge. A second later, he was dinged on the head by the stupid pin and then the plastic organizer. He grumbled, rubbing his head in irritation as he picked himself up off the floor and started to put everything back together.

Clover still must have been delirious, because for some reason he found the whole thing hilarious.

“Yeah, yeah.” He rolled his eyes. “Yuk it up hyena.”

He reached down to pick up a piece of paper that had been pushed off by everything else. The Atlas military insignia caught his eye. Try as he might, it was hard to miss the gigantic, scripted header, bolded for emphasis. He sucked in a breath as the words sunk in:

Letter of Reprimand

The room had gone quiet.

Beyond sneaking a peek at the familiar signature at the bottom, he didn’t dare delve into the paragraphs, merely setting it aside with a scoff. “Can’t believe Jimmy gave you a warning while you’re still recovering.”

“Yes, well,” Cover idly fiddled with the stem of one of the flowers, gaze distant. “It’s not anything I didn’t earn.”

“How so?” He asked, feigning ignorance as he righted the chair and sat back down.

“Remember when I told you I was sick a few weeks ago? Well that and this are related. And I maybe, kind of, didn’t show when the General ordered me to get checked out.”

Qrow lent forward, scanning his face as he asked, “You, boy scout? Disobeying an order? I don’t believe it. What could possibly get you to do that?”

For the first time since they’d met, he saw the easygoing attitude the man wore like a shield crack as Clover ran a hand over his face, his sigh bordering frustration. “I just – It’s really ridiculous. But I feel guilty, coming here.”

He blinked.

That was not at all what he had expected.

“Why?” When his question was only met with tentative silence, he backtracked, “I mean – I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be prying into your personal business. You don’t have to tell me.”

Clover shook his head. “It’s not that. I just, it’s really dumb, Qrow. You’re going to think I’m a moron.”

“Okay, let’s shake on it.” He held out a hand.

The soldier looked at it, then him, curiously.

“If it’s as dumb as you say it is, then I’ll tell you something stupid I’ve done in my life. Fair?”

Being a spy for as many years as he had had taught Qrow the unconscious skill of getting people to talk when his bird form wasn’t enough to get what he needed. Oftentimes, that involved getting people into a position where they both felt comfortable and loose, but not vulnerable. Bars tended to create that atmosphere quickly, and loosen the tongue twice as fast.

But sometimes, he reminded himself as Clover grasped his hand, his methods were more honest than others.

“Okay. Deal.” As he drew back, he took a moment to gather his thoughts, before finally saying, “Do you remember yesterday, when I told you about the sanctuary? Truth is, that was my home. It wasn’t terrible, or anything. We had beds and food and an okay school system. But…” His gaze dropped back to the flowers, rubbing the petals between his fingers.

A nervous habit, Qrow realized. Maybe that was why he wore so many trinkets.

“But?” He finally pushed as the quiet drew on.

“They… weren’t well funded back then, if I’m being completely honest. Especially the ones in Mantle. A lot of our furniture was rickety or uncomfortable. Almost every toy was broken. And I don’t think my clothes ever fit properly until I made it to the academy.” Clover grimaced. “I mean! Things are way better now, of course. James convinced the council years ago to shift the budget. Though, I may or may not have given him a… gentle suggestion on that.” He didn’t seem so hard up on this fact, puffing out in pride. It was kind of adorable. “I went by the old place a year ago. It’s all fixed up with new paint and everything! Even some playground equipment.”

“But that’s why you feel guilty coming here, because it’s too expensive?” He guessed, trying to work with the weaves of information he was being given. But something still didn’t feel quite right.

The way the other’s smile shifted tensely told him that feeling was spot on. “No. I mean, we didn’t have regular doctor’s appointments or anything, but Sister Lisa really did try her best to make sure we stayed healthy.” His hand clenched around a blossom. “Everyone except me.”

A terrible, sinking feeling filled him as the missing piece fell into place.

Qrow breathed out slow. “When did you find out you had a good luck semblance, Clover?”

“I’ve had it as long as I can remember.” His whole body slumped, like he’d finally lifted off a great weight and could finally relax. “I knew you’d understand.”

He did – or at least, he was starting to. There were a lot of textual accounts of kids, even toddlers, inadvertently unlocking semblances when under duress. Orphans were often the number one case of this particular phenomenon, as over half of them found their way into the system after Grimm attacks.

Qrow had been ironically lucky. His own semblance had come about when he was a teenager. He wasn’t entirely sure he would have survived his childhood had he found out sooner. But he remembered how easily he became the black sheep to his people. Every little thing that went wrong was suddenly his fault and any instance of someone falling ill was on him. Those events had still left their scars and misgivings, things that went deep and were hard to undo and some days all he could tell himself was that sometimes, bad things just happened.

Clover was the case of what one would do with someone with the opposite of that ability and discovered it young.

“So, when you’d get ill, your caretaker decided your luck was enough to keep you well. I’d bet you got in trouble if you even tried to take something for yourself too.” He surmised.

“Basically, yeah.” Sheepishly, he rubbed the side of his neck. “Told you it was stupid.”

He pressed his lips together, a protective anger spilling the words out in a heated rush, “I wouldn’t call it that. But I would call it child abuse.”

Sharp as it was, Clover didn’t flinch back. “Yeah. Yeah it was. But that’s not what I meant.” He rose his head, finally meeting his eyes. “Did you know I got my first and second demerit because I wouldn’t go to the regular checkups Atlas academy students are required to be present for? And, the first time I got sick when I actually had some money to blow, I went out and bought some aspirin. But I felt so awful for doing it, thinking I was taking it from someone who needed it, that I slipped it into some other kid’s bag.”

“But Clover, that’s-” Qrow tried, but Clover wasn’t done as he gestured wildly to the room around them.

“Even this place! I almost died, yet the longer I sit here the worse off I feel because I can’t stop thinking: what if someone else needs it more? It’s pathetic!” He pressed the palm of his hand against his forehead, tugging at his hair. “I’m thirty-nine year’s old! I should be over this. But I can’t-”

He never found out what Clover couldn’t do, because, without even thinking it entirely through, Qrow had reached out, grasping his other hand in both of his. “Hey, stop. Breathe for a second, okay?”

“But I-”

“Breathe, boy scout.” When it seemed the other was taking his advice, he lessened his iron grip some, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles. “Now look, I might not know everything, but I sure as heck know this – you’re not less of a person just because you can’t get past a bad experience.” He chuckled humorlessly. “I should know. I got about half a dozen of those hang-ups.”

The side of Clover’s mouth twitched upwards. “Like accepting compliments.”

Well. He supposed it was only fair. “More like accepting praise. When I was a teenager, the people I was around sometimes literally beat the idea into me that I couldn’t do anything right, until I just thought that was the truth. It was so bad, that by the time I got to Beacon, being told I’d done a good job actually caused me to have these weird anxiety fits.”

Their grips changed, Clover now the one holding his hand.

“It took years of reconditioning to break that response and even now, I sometimes still struggle with accepting praise of any kind.” Qrow scanned the other’s face, reading nothing there but sympathy. “So yeah, some things are hard to get over, especially if it was caused by something that was supposed to make you special.”

It was almost funny to think that there was once a time he’d been excited to discover he had a semblance and what it was.

Clover sighed, head drooping. “What if I can’t ever get over it?”

“Then all you can do is learn to deal with it best you can. Just know that that’s okay.”

There was a long moment as he seemed to take that in, before finally saying, “Yeah, I’ll try to remember that. And…” He looked up. “Thanks, for listening.”

“Thanks for trusting me.” He replied, unconsciously squeezing his grip.

As one, they looked down at where their hands were joined.

Also as one, they both jerked away, faces flaming up.

“O-Oh, sorry I was just-”

“I didn’t mean to-”

Their voices stumbled together, only for them both to pause at the same moment, staring.

Then the room steadily filled with the combined sound of their embarrassed laughter, Clover trying to stifle his behind his hand while Qrow rubbed the back of his neck.

“Man, what a day right?” He was the first to say.

Clover’s smile was soft. “A surprisingly good one.”

“You’ve spent half of it unconscious so… yeah I guess it would be for you.”

He tossed a flower at him. “Oh stop. Come on, let’s watch that episode already.”

“Gladly.” This time Qrow got the remote without incident. He shifted his chair around to face the TV, placing it closer to the bed. As he started to scour through the listings for their show, he couldn’t help but say, “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Hm?”

“Why trust me? This whole thing seems like something you’d rather keep under wraps and it’s not like we’ve known each other that long. For all you know, I’m gonna go blab this to everyone who frequents the water cooler.” He tilted his head back, asking again, “So, why me?”

Clover merely arched a brow. “Because we’re partners, aren’t we?”

“Doesn’t mean you owe me anything.”

“True.” He conceded. “But I have to trust you with way more on the field than I do with my personal life. Isn’t that why you told me what your semblance was?”

Qrow faltered, dropping his gaze to the tiled floor. “I just wanted you to be on guard when around me.”

“It was still hard for you, right?”

“Sure but still, what you told me wasn’t relevant to the job.”

“Neither was your sobriety.” Was the cheeky reply. “Yet, it’s all relevant to our relationship. I want to get closer to you Qrow.”

Oh. He flushed a bit, averting his face to hide the silly grin he could feel on his face.

“That’s not gonna happen if I don’t trust you. Sure, maybe you might go telling my secrets to the world, but if I don’t risk them, then nothing will ever go anywhere. And at its core, isn’t that what trust is? A risk.” Those words made him look up, the sincerity in Clover’s smile making his heart jump. “So… you willing to risk it with me?”

Was he? It had been a long time since he’d taken that step with anyone.

Yet as their gazes met once more, the fears that normally held him back seemed to crumble so easily in the wake of those kind teal eyes, guiding him in like a gentle ocean tide.

“Yeah.” He finally said. “I think I am.”

It wasn’t the only one he decided then and there it was time to take.

~

The next morning, Qrow strolled into Jimmy’s office, Ruby and Oscar at his heels.

The General had his head buried in a holographic replica of Amity Tower, scouring over the progress data – but at their entrance, he minimized the diagram, getting to his feet. “Ah, good morning. What brings you three here?”

Gut twisting with nerves, he paused at the foot of the stairs, looking between the kids that flanked either side of him.

Ruby smiled.

Oscar nodded.

He took a breath, then faced the man head on.

“Hey James. We gotta talk.”

[bittersweetmelxdy]

I really liked your first Gavin fic! If your requests are still open could you write one where Gavin and MC are on a date but then it starts storming so they both go back to Gavins place, but its still too stormy outside for mc to go home so she has to stay the night with him and its their first time sharing a bed? (Hope that makes sense) No rush and take your time with it! ❤️

Thank you for being so patient with me for this request :)

Title: under storms and stars Pairing: Gavin x MC Words: 2,269

It was a lovely day today you mused as you looked out of the window taking a short break from your work. It was cloudy day, but it was still quite warm and since cloudy days had never bothered you, you stared out at the skyline, a slight smile tugging at your lips. Sighing slightly you turned your head, hearing a knock at your office door, calling for the person to enter, you turned back to the window once realising it was Willow. Due to your eyes being glued to the window you missed Willow entering your office and doing a double take at your outfit. She looked over your outfit from the bun to your brown ankle boots, and quirked her lips into a smirk, after coming to her own conclusion for your outfit choice for today. She walked up to your desk and quickly slammed her two hands atop its surface, laughing at the jolt you gave at the sound.

“Girl spill, that,” Willow gestured to your outfit “is a date-dress, so who’s the hot date?”

You blushed bright red, “It’s not as exciting as you’re making it out to be, Gavin is just taking me out to see the new exhibit at the Art Gallery.” you tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“I don’t know boss, that place has been called a “Top Date Spot” in the reviews online.” Anna said breezing into your office and placed a box of files atop your desk.

“It’s not that big of a deal!” you said.

“Who’s going on a date?” Minor popped his head into the doorway of your office, causing you to groan and bury your head in your arms.

“Boss has a hot date with Gavin, tonight.” Willow sing-songed to your discomfort.

“Gavin- WAIT You’re the “important plans” he couldn’t cancel on tonight.” Minor yelled pointing at you accusatorily.

Anna turned to Minor, “You knew about this date?”

“Gavin said he couldn’t shoot hoops with me today because he had important plans he “couldn’t cancel on” I didn’t know he was hanging out with you.” Minor sulked.

You snorted in amusement, Gavin would have made up plans in order to avoid Minor, it’s not that Gavin disliked Minor, it’s just that Gavin had to deal with Eli all day at HQ, and Minor and Eli had the same level of chaotic energy. So sometimes he just needed a break, which was what this date was. When he had called you last night you had noticed the tiredness in his voice and you had mentioned it to him. You face involuntarily heated up remembering Gavin’s asking you in a low voice, “Are you asking me out?” and at your spluttering had laughed and said, “I’ll pick you up at 6 after you finish work, so think about where you want to go okay?”. Due the fact you wanted Gavin to relax, you had decided on the new exhibit at the Art Gallery and then a casual walk down Sunshine Alley.  

“You’re blushing, it so is a hot date!” Anna teased, and you curled up trying to escape the playful teasing of your coworkers.

Walking out of the building at 5:50 you prepared yourself to wait for Gavin when you saw him leaning against his bike.

“Gavin! If you were going to be early you should have called! When did you get here?” you asked walking over to him.

Gavin pulled you into a hug his chin nuzzling against the top of your head slightly. “Relax I only just got here.” causing you to huff, because you knew Gavin had not “just got here”.

He released you and then passed you your helmet, securing it under your chin, nodding and then got on his bike. Settling behind him you quickly wrapped your arms around his waist, and after he patted your clasped hands with his own, Gavin revved his bike and the two of you were off. After putting the bike in park along Sunshine Alley, Gavin helped you off the bike and undid the helmet strap for you, smoothing down your hair affectionately, causing you to blush prettily.

The art exhibit was everything you were expecting and more, it was an exhibit that displayed the artwork of the ‘Loveland Youth Art Club’. The theme of the exhibit was ‘Lasting Impressions’, and you were walking around with Gavin looking at the different paintings, and for a bit of game you had both decided to each find a painting you agreed with as your own ‘lasting impression’. Both of you came to a halt in front of a particular photograph. It was a picture of the gingko tree on the campus grounds, the sunlight breaking through the leafy covering, causing the leaves to look like they were made of gold. You smiled, a hand resting lightly against your lips and both of you whispered at the same time,

“This one…”

Your eyes clashed in shock and Gavin’s eyes softened as he wrapped an arm around your waist, and asked gently.

“Really why?”

“One time I was in the piano room and whilst I was playing and singing my favourite piece of music, when a saw the gingko leaves swirling outside. It was strange, because it was such a calm day that day, but since that day I guess gingko leaves have always been dear to me.” you confessed eyes trained on the photograph.

Gavin had flashbacks to that day he discovered his Evol, that day when the gingko leaves swirled around him and he vowed to protect the girl singing from the piano. The girl that saved his life… you. But only in his wildest dreams could he have hoped that that day meant a fraction of what it did to him. He was so lost in his thoughts, that he missed you turning to look at him, head tilted at his faraway look.

“Hey, Gavin, you okay?”

Gavin started, his voice thick with emotion, “Yeah, never better.”

You left the Art Gallery and as the two of you were walking back to Gavin’s bike, there was a sudden heavy downpour of rain. Both of you quickly ran to the shelter of a supermarket roofing, but although you were now out of the rain, you both were pretty soaked. Gavin watched you shiver in concern, and upon seeing your clothes starting to cling to your figure, he quickly took off his jacket and wrapped it around your form, the tips of his ears bright red. You looked at him gratefully, and he turned to look out at the downpour.

“Looks like a storm is coming in, your place is too far, I’ll take you to mine to dry off.”

Hearing Gavin’s suggestion you forcibly tried to calm down your racing heartbeat, although you two were together, you had only been to Gavin’s apartment a handful of times, and judging by the rate of rainfall you would have to stay the night, something you had never done before. Shaking your head to dispel your worries, you realised that Gavin was only offering out of concern, and at this thought your heart swelled with love for this man.  

“Okay, let’s go.” you said clasped your hand in Gavin’s and running into the rain back to Gavin’s bike.

“You remember where the bathroom is right, I’ll bring some clothes for you to wear, go before you catch a cold.” Gavin sheep-herded you into his apartment and into the bathroom as he then turned to his closet. As Gavin placed a T-Shirt and some socks into your arms, and you smiled appreciatively at him before disappearing into the bathroom and closing the room.  

Gavin made himself busy, after getting changed into some dry clothes and drying his hair, he put the kettle to boil and getting out some tea you had mentioned you liked for you to drink, and got out some food from the fridge you had meal prepped for him earlier that week, and placed it in a pot on the stove.to heat up. Hearing your footfalls as you padded into the kitchen, he paused and turned to watch you, the sight of you caused him to drop the spoon he was holding. The black T-Shirt he had given you fell loosely over your frame, and its hem fell at mid-thigh on you, and Gavin couldn’t even put into words how much he loved you in that moment. The socks were too large for your feet and you had rolled them up so you wouldn’t trip over them, causing the muffled footfalls. Gavin knelt and picked up the spoon, turning to the sink in order to hide his bright red blushing face from you. You saw the bright red tips of his ears, as you approached drying your slightly damp hair with a towel, and a soft smile painted your lips, although deciding to spare him you turned to the stove, inhaling its aroma, and lowering the heat under the pot to a gentle simmer.

“Pass me a spoon to taste Gavin.” you asked and Gavin wordlessly handed a teaspoon to you, along with the washed mixing spoon.

Taking a spoon full of the mixture, Gavin watched you blow slightly on the spoon and then place it in your mouth, you licked your lips and tilted your head from side to side, deliberating seemingly. Nodding slightly, you refilled the spoon and turned to Gavin, blowing on it, and then lifted it to hover by his mouth. Gavin leaned forward to taste, trying not to dwell on the fact that the two of you were sharing an indirect kiss through the spoon, and savoured the warmth of the meal as you asked,

“Enough salt?” you asked.

“It’s good.” Gavin said and smiled bashfully as you shook your head at him and reached for the salt to throw an extra pinch.

“Gavin, I’ve told you, I won’t get offended if you tell me it needs more salt.” you laughed at his sweetness.

After eating dinner and reclining on the sofa, your heard the crash of thunder, walking over to the window you sighed.

“I don’t think the storm is going to stop anytime soon.” you sighed  

Hearing some shuffling behind you, you turned to see Gavin moving pillows around on the sofa, knowing how Gavin lived you posed him a question,

“Gavin do you even have extra blankets?”

Gavin blushed, and rubbed the back of his neck, “Um, no… But I’ll be-”

“Gavin don’t finish that sentence; you take the bed.”

“You can’t sleep on the sofa; I won’t let you.” Gavin stressed.

Both of you stared at each other in a sort of stand-off in silence, silence stretched out between you, the only sounds being each other’s breathing. Gavin sighed and continued to rub the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“We could always- I mean if you don’t mind- we could share the bed.” Gavin asked shyly.

In response you sported a rosy hue, but after glancing at the sofa and knowing that Gavin, being the gentleman, he is, would never let you sleep on the sofa while he took the bed, nodded at him.

“Okay, we’ll share.”

Is what you said, but sitting in Gavin’s bed, blanket tightly in your hands that rested in your lap, you were growing nervous. Insecurity twisted in your gut, as you watched Gavin shuffle around the room, taking off the main light and turning on the star lamp he had, recognition quelled your nerves.

“Wait is this the lamp you bought at Furniture City that time we went together?”

“Yeah.” Gavin seemed to be both embarrassed and touched that you remembered your Furniture City Date.

You relaxed, smiling at Gavin, as he climbed into bed next to you and you shuffled to lay down beside him. Gavin turned towards you and and the two of you faced each other with the stars as your only source of of light.

“Hey, you alright? Nervous?” Gavin asked softly.

“Anyone would be nervous spending the night at their boyfriend’s place for the first time Gavin.” you told him.

“Really?” Gavin shifted so he was facing the ceiling.

“You’re not nervous..?” you asked.

“Not particularly.” Gavin said.

You sat upright suddenly, startling Gavin at your movement, “I guess if you’ve done this before, you wouldn’t be nervous would you.” you said bitterly, moving to climb out of bed.

Gavin grasped your forearm and yanked hard, causing you to tumble into his chest, and Gavin used his strength to lock his arms around your form, keeping you in his embrace.

“Stop Squirming!”

“Gavin Let me-”

“It’s because it’s you!” you paused wide eyed at Gavin’s confession “I’m not nervous because it’s you, it just feels natural you being here with me, that I don’t feel nervous.” Gavin hid his face in your neck and pressed a light kiss to the crook of your neck.

Allowing Gavin to lower you both back down on the bed, you buried your face in his chest hiding your blush. Several breaths passed between you two, before Gavin started to laugh.

“Hey, you wouldn’t happen to be jealous, would you?” Gavin teased.

You muffled gibberish into his shirt in response.

“Don’t worry, I meant it when I said you are my first and last love. Believe when I say you’ll be the only girl I’ll ever invite back to my apartment.” Gavin rested his forehead against yours, his honey coloured eyes reflected nothing but warmth and love, and he continued to hold you tight as you both drifted off to sleep.

[snarkwriteswrasslin]

wild winter | the quiet game; kyle o’reilly [m]

PROMPTS USED

LOCATION: a shared hotel room ( with Bobby Fish asleep in the next bed, ftw)

SITUATION: knowing people can/might  overhear

TYPES OF SEXUAL CONTACT: hand focus (holding hands), intense eye contact, spooning

Notes: 

So this is the unofficial begin to my year long smutty self challenge. I figured that the few I did in February could count as a begin to winter. So, I’m transferring them all over to my blog(s). Perhaps later, I’ll make some kind of information post so that you guys know what this is all about. Or, maybe I’ll just leave it a mystery, bc Idek myself why I chose to do this other than boredom, wanting to stop writing god - awful and cringe inducing smutty stuff when I feel up to writing smut. Anyway, here it is. This oneshot fits into the universe I started in fake fic titles with Kyle O’Reilly and the OC used there, Dominique Carron. { x | x | x } < if you wanna read those before reading this. Time frame for this oneshot is a few months between the second part and the third part when Kyle and Domi have become an established couple.

Pairing:

Kyle O’Reilly x OFC, Dominique. 

Warnings:

uhh... smut. filth. shared hotel room / risk of getting caught. body fluids. an awkward but funny moment in here where they do kinda get caught by Bobby, whomst they’re sharing a room with (thank you so much for the inspiration for this part @kyleoreillysknee​ love you forever for throwing it out there) aaand that’s pretty much it, tbh.

                           KYLE & DOMINIQUE in

                      THE QUIET GAME.

He’d been on the verge of dozing off when he felt the bed dip low and he felt her, wiggling into place. He cuddled into her, his arms going around her after he’d pulled the blanket up over her better.

Dominique rolled over to give him a goodnight kiss and when she did, Kyle’s hands raised, cupping her face, pulling her mouth into a deep and gentle kiss. “Was startin to think I’d have to come in there with you.” he yawned into the kiss. Dominique cozied herself up to him and trailed her fingertip over his lower lip.

“I’d have honestly loved that. I just wanted to soak.” Dominique muttered softly, eyes fluttering open and shut as he pulled her closer. It always felt like sheer bliss when he held her close and tight.

“A little sore?” Kyle questioned, his hand leaving her cheek to ghost over her side and settle at her hip.

She shivered and bit her lip, pouting at him as he flashed her a mostly innocent grin. “More than a little. Turns out, not only are you sexy, amazing in bed, kind and funny.. You’re also really smart and I should’ve listened and stretched out instead of curling up in back like I did.” she pressed her lips against his lazily, an innocent little kiss.

Kyle pulled her closer and his tongue slipped past her lips as he raised his hand again to rest it against her cheek.“Good night, baby.” Dominique muttered softly, nuzzling her face against his hand.

“Good night, babe.” Kyle yawned lazily as Dominique rolled to face the opposite direction.

He slipped his arm back over her, pulling her completely against him, thinking he’d start to doze off. But naturally, he didn’t. And he knew she wasn’t either.

Bobby, on the other hand, snoring up a literal storm across the room.

Kyle’s mouth brushed against the back of Dominique’s neck and she sucked in a breath because as his mouth was wandering over her neck, his hand was wandering  up and down her sides, stopping a second or two to squeeze at her hip. He moved even closer and she bit her lip, whimpering a little, her breath catching in her throat as he rubbed into her from behind.

“Kyle.” Dominique whimpered almost helplessly as she continued to really try and rub herself against him in the hopes that she could get him all worked up. She just wanted him so badly. Right then. Right that second.

“Yeah, babe?” his voice was husky with sleep and that always did things to her. She licked her lips and swallowed hard. Parts of her wanted to turn over and face him but parts of her also liked it when he spooned against her from behind, strong arms tight around her body. And they had a shared room tonight, she didn’t trust herself to remain quiet.

Kyle had this ability to bring out the side of her that got loud. Insanely loud. And needy. Oh so needy.

“You know exactly what you’re doing.” Dominique gasped right as she felt his hand slipping beneath the hem of the t shirt she’d kind of stolen from him to wear to sleep. He chuckled, his lips against her ear as his hand crept higher up her thigh. “I’m not doing anything. Promise, babe.”

“Yes. Yes you are.” she gasped a little, rocking herself back against him about the second she felt his hand settle over her unclothed heat, rubbing lightly. She heard him swear upon the discovery that she wasn’t wearing panties and when his teeth grazed at her neck, she bit down on her lip.

Kyle had her flat against the mattress in a split second and he was settling himself over her, his hands grabbing hold of her hands and holding them flat against the pillow.“Kyle… oh..” her voice came in a soft whimper against his neck. He gazed down at her with lust blown pupils. “So beautiful. And all mine.” he mused, lips crashing against hers as he bucked into her teasingly.

The kiss broke and his mouth strayed. And despite his burning desire to get his hands all over her, he continued to hold her hands flat against the pillow and gaze down at her adoringly. Bobby stirred, grumbling in his sleep and rolling over in the bed across the room and for a second or two, Kyle and Dominique froze, Kyle taking advantage of the pause in kissing and whispering to let go of her hands and slip his hand down between them, circling his cock, teasing it along her bare folds.

She shivered and tried to thrust her hips upward, to get some kind of friction going but he shook his head and chuckled quietly, pressing down into her as he whispered against her ear, “Think you can be quiet, babe?” questioningly. He’d honestly been planning to be a good boy and just attempt sleep since they had to be awake hellishly early, but.. the fact remained… He couldn’t keep his hands -or his mouth, to himself tonight. And she’d been nothing short of a playful tease the entire drive.

“It’s doubtful but..” she started to whimper as she felt him lining his cock up and the tip teasing between her folds all over again, “I’ll try.” the whimper and her words were swallowed up in a hungry kiss and Kyle shallowly thrust into her, barely letting the tip enter her heat. Dominique wanted to raise her legs and wrap them around his waist, this was so much worse than the way he’d been teasing her earlier in the SUV on the drive to the hotel… His hips were pressed so firmly into her lower body that she couldn’t lift her legs and wrap them around his body and drive him into her to the hilt like she wanted.Just as she thought she’d at least get to keep movement of her hands so she’d be able to touch him like she wanted, his hands found her hands again as he sank into her, keeping still for a few seconds as he gazed down at her and lowered his mouth, capturing her mouth in a kiss.

“Kyle..” she whispered, breathy and soft because her breath caught in her throat at his touches and kisses.

“Shh.. Gotta keep quiet, remember, babe?” his tone was a thick and sleep laced almost teasing drawl as he spoke.

She nodded, swallowing hard. All she wanted to do was get her hands on him. To wrap her legs around him.“C’mon.. Please?” Dominique tried begging again but she could look at him and tell that it was falling on deaf ears.

“Uh-uh.” he replied as he started to thrust, slowly and carefully. Almost agonizingly slow. It was quite evident that Dominique was about to pay for her little teasing throughout the drive today. And it was clear that Kyle wanted control.That turned her on more than anything. And he knew this.That combined with the way he was staring down at her, lust blown pupils almost blackening his entire eye.. She shivered as his cock buried inside her even deeper and he dipped down, mouth roaming hungrily down her neck. A gasp caught in her throat when she felt his lips latch on her neck, quiet sucking sounds drowned out by the noisy snores of their roommate for the night.The thrill of being caught at any second had her dripping. When she moaned a little louder than intended because he started to drive into her deeper and harder, his hips snapping quietly against her body as he did so, he chuckled against her skin. “Shhh.”

“You’re trying to make me scream.” Dominique choked out after a deep and bruising kiss broke because they needed to breathe.

“You were the one teasing me all the way here, babe.” Kyle replied, flashing her that cocky smirk from above. He started to fuck into her a little faster, his hands gripping her hands tighter, his hips pinning her flat against the bed. The orgasm started to build all over again, this time more intense and just like before, Kyle came to a full stop, cock buried inside her, gentle kissing and sucking noises as his mouth roamed all over her neck and dipped down, leaving a line of marks littering her collarbone as he smirked against her skin. When he felt her starting to back away from getting off, he started to fuck into her again. Deliberate and slow.

Her fingers laced through his and she gave his hands a gentle squeeze, trying and finally managing to move her hips just enough to get a little more friction going between them. It did nothing for the tears of frustration stinging at her eyes. Bobby stopped snoring and Kyle went still on top of her, mouth moving over her skin, finding her mouth as his tongue parted her lips. “Feels so good, Domi. God, you feel amazing.Shit.” he muttered into the kiss as he remained still, both of them caught up in kissing each other, Dominique trying and failing at wiggling her hands free.

Kyle chuckled and shook his head no at her with a teasing gleam in his eyes. “You’re in for it when we get back to our apartment, Kyle.” Dominique muttered as her teeth caught on the side of his neck and she nipped at it, leaving a mark of her own.

Kyle shivered. He definitely had a weakness about her lips anywhere near his neck. And she knew it. So he knew she was trying to tease, to do anything she could right now to get back at him for holding her hands still.“I’m counting on it, Domi.” Kyle muttered lazily against her collarbone.

Bobby hadn’t said anything or really moved again and he’d started to quietly snore again, so Kyle started the delicious torture all over again, slow drives deep into her heat as careful as he could. She moaned and the kiss swallowed it up, Kyle chuckling right after. The mattress’ quiet creaks had them both laughing in whispers that were swallowed up in even deeper kisses. When she started to rock her hips upward, meeting his deep drives, he growled quietly, burying his lips in her neck to muffle the sound and leave another mark behind.

“Eyes up here, babe.” Kyle coaxed as he started to move faster, letting go of her hands finally so he could grip her hips, angling them up, driving into her as deep as he could get. He buried his mouth into her mouth, their teeth bumping against one another in the hurry to deepen the kiss. “Kyle, fuck.. Oh..” her back arched away from the bed slightly and he buried his mouth into her mouth even deeper, muttering into the kiss, “C’mon, babe.. Wanna feel you.” coaxing her right over the edge and straight into an orgasm that shattered through her with enough intensity to make her want to scream his name over and over until she lost her voice.

Kyle deepened the kiss, his fingertips digging into her hips, the mattress creaking steady and quiet. When she clenched around him he growled into the kiss, teeth sinking into her lower lip, tugging at it, gasping as his own orgasm built to an almost dizzying rush and the snap of his hips against her hips was almost neck and neck with the sound of Bobby’s snoring across the room.

She managed to get her legs around his waist, her heels digging into his ass, driving him in even deeper. Her nails dragged slowly and carefully across his shoulders and down his back and Kyle grunted, “Fuck. So close.”

“Don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop.” Dominique coaxed, staring up at him. Kyle raised his hands, putting them over her hands again as he continued to fuck into her, his hips at a steady and almost bruising tempo against her hips, fucking her deep into the mattress almost. As his orgasm shattered through, he crashed his mouth against her mouth, groaning as she whimpered his name over and over quietly into the deepening and dizzying kiss. “Love you Domi.”

“Love you too, Kyle.”They shared a look and Kyle’s head bent, burying in the crook of her neck as Bobby spoke up from his bed, “Love you, Bobby.” and after a few seconds of them both trying to compose themselves and not answering, he spoke up again,

“Oh come on? You two are seriously gonna leave me hangin? Just when I felt like we were gettin really close…” Bobby chuckled, trailing off with a mumbled, “Horny as a couple of actual teenagers, I swear to God.”

“Bobby go to sleep.” both Domi and Kyle responded in tandem, both embarrassed at having been heard, Kyle falling to the bed completely spent, immediately turning onto his side and pulling Dominique into his arms, gripping her tight, pulling her into a yawn filled and lazy goodnight kiss.

“What are the odds he was pretending to be asleep?” Dominique asked, cringing because she had a feeling that there was a high chance Bobby was pretending to be asleep just to give them shit.

“Knowing Bobby, babe.. Pretty high.” Kyle gave a sheepish chuckle as his lips brushed lazily against her forehead.

“Awesome. This is never gonna be not awkward.” Dominique muttered against Kyle’s chest as she rolled over to face him, throwing a leg over his hip. Kyle’s hand found her thigh, squeezing gently as he chuckled and yawned.

[the-reverse-mermaid]

Feel Again: a whump fic

Hey buddies! I’m working on my WIPs currently and i am so grateful for ur patience but i’ve also had this thing sitting in my docs for several months and I wanted to share it at last, but just a clip because..well...in whole, it’s kinda darker than my usual stuff so the whole thing may or may not be posted in the future. This is a gift for the wondrous @parkrstark​ who had a birthday recently and who is a beautiful person and talented writer <3 Enjoy, my love~

FIC INFO: around 5k words, IronDad and SpiderSon, hurt/comfort, warnings for nightmares, panic/anxiety attacks, past dehumanization; also it’s implied that Tony is Peter’s guardian bc May died...sry, i was too coward to write her ^^;

...

It’s been seven days, ten hours and fifteen minutes. 

Peter watches, blank-faced and empty-eyed, as bowl and spoon are placed in his hands. It makes Tony feel like he’s dealing with a robot, but even his robots are more lively than this. Taking Peter’s spoon, the man presses the Cheerios under the milk so that every piece of cereal will be soggy, just the way Peter likes. In times past Tony had made fun of him for the preference, and Peter had ardently defended it as the only right way to eat cereal. 

Now the memory of Old Peter echoes in the back of his mind like a glimpse of an alternate reality.

“Think you can finish all of that, buddy?” Tony asks, leaning down so he’s in Peter’s line of sight. Dulled brown eyes trail up to him, then back to the bowl and he nods, picking up the spoon. Tony breathes a sigh of relief as the kid starts to eat, chewing slowly.

He checks his phone and feels a nervous thrill at the notification there: I’m about to come down. Still want to do this? He glances at Peter before typing and sending a quick, Yes, ty.

“Hey, bud, remember that time you, me and Pep spent Saturday morning watching dumb cartoons and eating breakfast food til noon?” he begins, picking at his own cereal to seem casual about it. “I thought we could do that today, since she’s got no meetings til this afternoon. Whaddaya say?”

Peter pauses. He lifts one shoulder indifferently, but Tony can see anxiety hidden in the movement. Apathy and fear; whatever happened in the last four months stripped Peter-- lively, expressive Peter-- of all but these two emotions. They might as well have stolen Tony’s entire fortune; that loss would’ve hurt less.

Before Tony can think how to reassure him or possibly backtrack, there are footsteps in the hall and Pepper is rounding the corner with a bright smile on her face.

“Hey, guys!” she greets, pausing in the entrance of the kitchen to look them over. She’s comfortably dressed in pajama bottoms and her ‘I lost an electron’ shirt that she and Peter both own, her hair down and feet socked. It’s 10 times less intimidating than her usual business suits and high heels but still Peter squirms closer to Tony’s side and eyes her warily, choosing to look at her feet rather than her face. Pepper wilts a bit at the reception.

“Morning, hon,” Tony calls. He pushes a pleading ‘we can do this, just act normal’ into his gaze, and Pepper, bless her, seems to get the message. “We’ve got cereal over here, help yourself.”

Pepper grabs a bowl off the counter and crosses the room, her movements deliberate and nonthreatening. There’s no change from Peter, whose own bowl is sitting in his lap like something hardly worth his interest.

“Hmm,” she hums. “Cheerios are good, but mind if I add to the spread? I think we’ve got some frozen quiches around here somewhere, that sounds good to me.”

Tony smiles. “Go for it.” As soon as she walks away he nudges Peter and says quietly, “You’re okay, Pete. Nothing to be stressed about, yeah? Pep is just like me: she wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”

For what it’s worth, the kid does relax minutely. In the interim of Pepper opening packages and using the microwave, Tony picks up the remote and turns on the TV, browsing around for something safe and feel-good before settling on Nickelodeon, which is showing some animated movie. Peter’s eyes flick up to the screen.

“Alright, I got mini-quiches and even some blueberry muffins, ” Pepper announces upon her return, both hands holding trays of said items. “Totally gourmet... And by gourmet, I mean Costco brand.”

“The best,” Tony agrees, snatching one of each as soon as she sets them down. “Which would you rather have, bud?” He turns to Peter, who is done with his cereal and is now looking at the new food. At Tony’s invitation he hesitates but points at a muffin and Tony tries not to get too excited about it as he hands one over and watches the kid begin nibbling the top. So far things seem to be going well.

Now he’s just gotta go through with the next step.

Around ten minutes in, the movie cuts to a commercial break. Tony shifts in preparation to stand up and Peter immediately follows suit, not even questioning, but carefully Tony takes the boy’s hands and holds them at arm’s length. Peter looks at him questioningly, a rare moment of eye contact.

“I’m just gonna take a bathroom break, okay, bud?” he explains. “You stay here with Pep.” He tucks Peter’s hands to his lap and stands.

Peter keens and sits up straighter, wide eyes kindling anew with anxiety. Tony feels like the worst human being on the planet, but he knows he needs to do this. He needs to help Peter do this.

“It’s just a few minutes apart,” he promises. “I’ll go straight there and back.”

“And I’ll be here with you the whole time,” Pepper chimes in. She scoots closer from the other side of the couch and puts a soothing hand on Peter’s back, easing him back into the cushions as Tony leaves the room. The man tries not to look back as he hears her quieting and comforting the boy’s whimpers. Pepper is a better people person than Tony will ever be and he knows she’ll take good care of him, but Tony’s fingers still itch with the urge to turn right back around.

As soon as he gets to the bathroom, Tony pulls up a feed of the living room on his phone via FRIDAY’s cams to watch the room he just left. On the couch, Peter is decidedly not coping as well with Pepper as he does Tony, but he isn’t having a meltdown; in fact, he’s allowing her to sit close and keep an arm wrapped around his shoulders, though his forehead remains creased in apprehension. The poor kid looks like he’s fighting with himself to be patient; his gaze is torn between watching the TV and checking the doorway for Tony’s return.

Biting his lip, Tony puts his screen away and sighs. He paces the small space, checking his watch impatiently until at last five minutes have passed.

On his way back he hears it.

The yelling.

“Peter? Peter, honey, you’re okay! Please calm down, you’re home, you’re safe-” Pepper.

His walk turns into a sprint as he rounds the corner, heart in his throat, and takes in the worrying scene before him.

Peter is curled up in a fetal position on the couch, Pepper kneeling in front of him with helplessness on her face as she tries to get his attention. Peter’s hands are pressed over his ears, his eyes clenched shut, his whole body shuddering as he rocks and cries inconsolably.

“What happened?” Tony demands.

Pepper hurries backwards so Tony can take her spot. “I don’t know what- what agitated him,” she says in a rush. There are tears in her eyes. “He just suddenly started panicking and hyperventilating and- and he won’t let me touch him, he screams if I try-”

“Don’t scream!” Peter says suddenly. Both adults’ attention snaps to him. His eyes have opened but they’re unseeing as he croaks, “Don’t scream, they- they’ll hear! Be good, be good, be good, I- I’m good- please, I’m--”

“Peter, hey,” Tony tries, carefully putting his hand on Peter’s shoulder.

At the touch, Peter flinches, his head smacking against the couch. His whispering gets more frantic. “I’ll be better! I will! I-”

“Peter, please, stop!” The man takes Peter’s face between his hands. “You’re safe. Nobody’s gonna hurt you. Can you hear me, buddy? It’s your- it’s Tony.”

Peter goes still.

“Tony,” he repeats. His face crumples slowly, lip trembling. “I miss Tony...”

The man of iron feels his heart splinter. I miss you, too, Pete. Come back to me.

“You’ve got him,” he says. “Tony’s here now. He’s got you. He’s gonna keep you safe.”

In the stillness that follows, all is quiet save the sound of Peter’s rapid breathing, but even that is slowing and evening out. His blinks several times as the storm clouds in his eyes dissipate, light returning gradually as the seconds pass. Tony’s thumb strokes away a tear still rolling down the boy’s cheek, and at last Peter focuses and looks at rather than through him.

They stare at one another for a long moment. The teen swallows and opens his mouth with a shaky inhale, a fresh sheen of tears filling his eyes.

“S-sorry… my bad,” he rasps.

Tony’s brain short-circuits for a moment, and all he can think is how unbelievable it is that the most of Peter he’s seen in so long could come as the result of such an episode. He doesn’t know whether it makes him want to laugh or cry.

He pulls himself onto the couch and gathers his kid into his arms, one hand bracing Peter’s back, the other nestling in his still-overgrown curls. Peter responds by clinging around his middle and pressing his ear to Tony’s chest, no doubt timing his breaths by the heartbeats there.

It’s only after Pepper leaves to find them a blanket that Tony sees the TV screen and the image it’s paused on. It’s an infomercial… an infomercial for obedience training. The closed captioning advertises “Don Sullivan’s Secrets To Training The Perfect Dog: order the DVD set now and get a complimentary Command Collar”.

Tony had never had strong feelings about infomercials in general but at that moment he wants nothing more than to buy every single TV station and destroy them all. Screw Don Sullivan.

He’s surprised when Peter suddenly huffs a humorless sound. “I’m pretty broken, aren’t I,” he states quietly, voice wrecked.

Tony pushes his fingers through the scruff on the back of Peter’s neck, wishing so hard that he could turn back time. “No,” he refutes. “No, you’re not.”

Peter is quiet for a long time, so long that Tony wonders if he’s given in to the pull of post-panic-attack exhaustion and fallen asleep. But in a tired voice weighted by more sadness than any man, woman or child should ever know comes a tiny reply:

“Yes, I am.”

...

Peter has scars. A lot of them.

It’s been fifteen days since and he’s barely improved, still clinging and hesitant to speak or make eye contact with anyone other than Tony. He lets himself talk in small bursts but it’s nothing like he used to be; he can also manage up to fifteen minutes alone without having a panic attack if Tony has to shower or use the restroom. He does the same so long as Tony waits for him outside the door (within range of hearing his heartbeat).

After the disastrous separation experiment, Tony isn’t eager to push much more than that.

(Peter has scars.)

Some are thicker than others, especially on his wrists and his back; the white lines criss crossing over his form tell tale of screams long since silenced. Just seeing the marks makes Tony’s knees weak with a concoction of feelings he can’t describe-- prominently there’s horror, because he remembers how every injury was discovered and treated on that first night back and it was like Tony himself was taking a beating… and then there’s regret-guilt-anger-helplessness, because the cuts are healed now-- Peter’s healing capabilities took over soon after he got the proper nutrition and medical attention-- but poison memories are sealed inside.

If he hugs the kid a little longer than necessary after watching him get his boot cast removed and seeing the scar tissue that mars him there too, Peter doesn’t seem to mind. The kid leans into his touch more now than he ever did before.

“Alright, little shadow,” Tony says brightly as he pulls away, using the nickname that had never been more appropriate in their relationship; having a kid clinging closer than a literal shadow at all times did that to you. He glances one more time at the newly-healed foot and gets an idea. “What do you say we celebrate this cast coming off? Wanna take a walk around the compound, get some fresh air?”

Peter looks up at him through his ragged, unstyled hair, doe eyes wide but empty. Tony smooths his bangs back and the kid blinks once as if to focus. Tony can see him trying to be there, trying to care. Trying and trying and trying.

“...’kay,” he whispers, fragile. He lets Tony take his hands and help him stand.

Once he’s got them bundled up in jackets to withstand cold winds that roll off the water, Tony hiding a wrist gauntlet on the hand in his pocket (because yes, he’s that paranoid), the two of them (as one figure) step outside for the first time in-- in a while. Definitely a while.

A cool breeze follows them on their walk and Tony allows a deep breath of actual fresh air to clean out his lungs and settle in his veins. It’s not very often he gets to enjoy the benefits of living outside the city.

They end up walking along a trail that follows the Hudson and Tony decides that this actually was a good idea: the nature-y sights and sounds seem to help bring Peter to life. There’s a glimmer of contentedness in his face as he looks out over the trees and water and sky. He loosens his grip on Tony’s arm and settles for a gentle handhold. Tony looks at him sideways, feeling a swell of hope rise in his chest, right behind where his arc reactor used to be.

“It’s nice to get out, huh,” he says softly. The edges of Peter’s eyes crinkle in what might be the world’s tiniest beginning of a smile.

Other than occasionally checking that Peter’s leg isn’t hurting, Tony shuts his mouth and lets the white noise around them do its thing. He’s been talking too much lately anyway, trying to overcompensate.

They’ve been walking for almost an hour and stopped to admire a small waterfall when Peter suddenly bristles and presses himself close to Tony’s side. In paranoia, the man pulls his gauntlet hand out of his pocket and is all but ready to activate it, when all that comes around the path toward them is a wobbling toddler in a puffy coat.

They stare at him. He stares back, a gap-tooth grin on his face. “‘Ah-dy!” he says in greeting.

No, nope, I’ve definitely got my hands full being just ONE kid’s Daddy, Tony thinks worriedly, when behind the toddler appears a man who moves to scoop the boy up in his arms. The man holds the boy, who’s probably about 18-24 months old, by his feet and the kid shrieks in delight, wiggling around upside-down.

“Leaving me behind, guys?” a woman’s voice calls before a third person appears, putting her arm on her husband’s shoulder and glancing curiously at Tony and Peter. Peter hides himself behind Tony, eyes on the dirt, and Tony manages to cast them a weak smile to be polite whilst squeezing his kid’s arm reassuringly.

The man sets their kid down and he immediately spins around, looking at the waterfall. “Wa-er!” As he tottles away, Tony catches sight of the symbol on the back of his coat and does a double-take.

“Nice jacket,” he says without thinking.

He glances down at Peter. The kid has noticed too-- his eyes are locked on the symbol, expression unreadable.

The man turns around from where he and his wife are watching their toddler. He follows their gaze and laughs. It’s a tiny Spider-Man themed coat.

“Thanks! Spidey’s our family’s favorite. He saved Shannon’s life when she was pregnant with this dude,” he says, indicating his family members respectively. “The guy may not be around lately, or moved, or- whatever, there’s lot’s of theories- but... he isn’t forgotten, not for us.”

“-ah-DEE!” the little guy calls from where he and the woman have wandered, and this time he seems to be referring to his actual daddy so the man gives them an awkward little wave before walking off to catch up.

The strangers gone, Peter sags into Tony’s side. His face is still unreadable. Tony can’t think of anything to do other than wordlessly steer them down the path toward home, wondering at the heavy thought bubbles building over his kid’s head.

…

Sixteen-and-a-half days.

A strangled-sounding scream cuts through the dark and into Tony’s heart like a knife.

Tony’s startled but he isn’t surprised; startled because of the rude awakening from being asleep at the kid’s side, and the ever-terrifying possibility that something might be wrong, but not surprised in the conventional way because he’s aware that this has happened every night since the kid came off the heavy meds.

Peter is whimpering strings of ‘please’ and ‘no’, and Tony turns on the bedside lamp to see him huddled in a ball, eyes closed and budding with tears, one fist stuffed in his mouth to stifle the noise. He winces when Tony puts a hand on the side of his head.

“Peter,” Tony whispers, so tired. “Peter, bud, you’re okay. It’s just a bad dream. Open those eyes for me?”

Peter whines, but his eyes do crack open to anguished slits. He’s shaking beneath Tony’s palm, and biting down so hard on his hand that the man sees a trail of blood running down his knuckles. Tony’s other hand gently pries the fist out away from his mouth. Peter lets him.

“Hey bud,” the man greets softly, catching the kid’s gaze. Peter stills as his surrogate father rubs a thumb along his temple soothingly.

Tony smiles sadly. “What did I tell those nightmares last night, huh? My kid is off-limits; only good dreams allowed. Iron Man decrees it.”

Peter stares at him, breathing erratic as his awareness returns. He inhales sharply, an attempt to calm down, but his breath catches on a sob on the exhale. He covers his face with both hands and dissolves into fresh cries, leaning into Tony as the man takes the back of his head and pulls him close.

“Shhh,” Tony murmurs, fingers carding through the curls at Peter’s nape. “Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay. Go ahead and cry, I’m here.”

It takes some time for Peter to cry himself out. Tony doesn’t stop whispering reassurances the whole time. He can tell by the pace of the breaths beneath him that Peter’s still awake.

“You can tell me anything, Pete,” he offers gently, as he has every night. “I’m here for you.”

Peter has yet to tell Tony about what happened to him, or about the nightmares that haunt him so badly. As he comforts, Tony traces his thumb across the hollow under Peter’s eye, wiping away wetness there and remembering how the straps of a muzzle had traced the same spot in a perverse fashion not so long ago, before Iron Man had removed and destroyed the thing in disgust.

Some scars can’t be bandaged as easily as others, but for the first time in all such nights, Peter does respond.

“Mr. Stark,” he says so softly that Tony holds his breath so as to not miss anything, “Mr. Stark, I- I don’t- I just don’t understand.”

It’s in these moments, somehow, that Peter is most himself. The storms drag Peter out of his hiding place. “What don’t you understand,” the man prompts. He pulls back to see the teen’s face. His young brow is furrowed in- confusion? concentration?

Peter chews his lip for a moment before going on. “It’s like, when I was there… all I could- all I dreamed about was home. But now I’m here and I, I can’t- I’m st-still there, you know?” He meets Tony’s eyes. “What if I can’t ever really come home?” he concludes hopelessly.

Tony does unfortunately, painfully know what he’s asking about, because he has a similar trauma and it’s called Afghanistan.

“You just need time, buddy,” he says. “I know what you mean, trust me, I do. It just gets better with time.”

“Is it worth it?” Peter presses suddenly. “Am I-” His eyes trail sideways to the sheets and he swallows. “Am I even worth it?”

Tony’s jaw hardens. “That’s not even a question.”

“I-I did bad things… And, and I’m not the same.”

“You didn’t have a choice, kid. And being different? That’s not as bad as you think.”

“I’m ruining your life.”

“Peter, you are not-”

“I’m inhuman and I’m a waste of space.”

It’s the way he says it, like it’s a known fact, something he’s been drilled with and long since accepted, that really gets under Tony’s skin. He’s been pretty good at holding himself together so far, all things considered, but can’t help that he feels his own eyes stinging with tears at the sound of his kid reiterating the garbage he’s been brainwashed with.

He sits up so suddenly that Peter startles.

“I’m not really tired anymore,” he says briskly, throwing the covers off himself and trying to discreetly wipe at his eyes.

Peter pushes himself up too, eyes wide and concerned. “Mr. Stark?”

“I’m feeling like a trip to the lab, maybe a snack on the way. How ‘bout you, kid? Wanna join your old man for some late night wandering?”

Peter presses his lips together in confusion, but he nods. Tony pushes the covers back more so that the kid can get his feet on the ground before stepping out himself, the both of them slipping into their usual bracing of one another.

Apparently speaking, and now getting up, is too much deviation from the routine for Peter because in his eyes he’s slipping back into himself, expression closing off. Tony hopes he doesn’t feel embarrassed; Before-Peter would’ve been, but Now-Peter is hard to read.

FRIDAY turns on lights as they pad down the hall, already long since attuned to Tony’s nocturnal habits. A quick stop at the kitchen supplies them with a bowl of Chex mix, and then the lab doors are whooshing open and Tony’s realizing he doesn’t actually feel like tinkering. He just needed a reprieve to collect his thoughts but now he’s got Peter out of bed for no reason and it’s not healthy, he’s gonna ruin his kid, he’s a terrible guardian-

He shakes his head. One thing at a time.

“Come sit with me,” he says unnecessarily, leading a compliant Peter to the couch and settling him down with the bowl of Chex in his lap. Neither of them move to eat any of it. Tony takes a seat beside him and drums his fingers on the knee of his worn sweatpants for a long moment, looking around for something to do now that he’s brought them here.

His eyes fall on a forgotten Target bag sitting stuffed in one corner and the metaphorical light bulb goes on.

As quickly as he sat, Tony’s back on his feet. Peter’s gaze follows him as he crosses to a nearby screen, booting it on and then retrieving the items he needs from the shopping bag. He shields his activities from Peter and whispers instructions to FRIDAY before finally whirling around to look at his kid with a crazy grin. It probably seems like he’s gone crazy at this point.

“Buddy, I have one question for ya,” he states, hands raising and pausing for dramatic effect. “Have you ever played… Just Dance?”

Peter stares at him the way one might stare at a fascinating tornado. He slowly shakes his head.

Tony laughs nervously. “Uhh... me neither. But listen, after you moved in, I kind of-” ...panicked... “-sent Happy to the store to find things you might like to have around the house? Like video games? I don’t know what kids like. Happy doesn’t either. He must’ve checked the internet or something because he came home with this, and kid, can you imagine Harold Hogan in the store buying a dancing game? Now that’s an image I treasure. On behalf of his efforts, I think we should give it a go, right here, right now.”

By the time the rambling stops, Dum-E, U and Butterfingers have made their way to this corner of the lab like curious cats trying to interpret their boss’ strange behavior. Noticing their presence, Tony throws his arm out to point at Dum-E. The other two bots startle comically.

“You,” Tony declares. “You can hold a wii remote, right? You and me. Let’s dance. Pete, you’re on the tambourine. I don’t actually have a tambourine. Just keep time by knocking, like this.”

The man leans forward and raps his knuckles twice against the side of the chex mix bowl. It’s not like it’s loud, or even necessary, but it’s something to get the kid involved. Peter looks a little lost, but not in the dissociative way- more like he’s trying to figure out if he’s actually awake or if this is a weird dream he’s having. Still, Tony’s on a roll and he feels dangerously confident. Not quite confident enough to ask Peter to dance, but enough to make a fool of himself in the hopes of bringing comic relief to one of their awful nights.

Within a few minutes, FRIDAY has configured the game on Tony’s screen and the main menu music is playing through the speakers. One newly-unwrapped wii-remote is clutched in Dum-E’s claw, safety strap secured, and Tony’s using the other to flip through the menu and create player profiles.

“Okay, so…” he mutters, finally arriving at the song selection screen. “What do we have here... Gotta make sure we choose an easy one. Not for me, of course; I’m worried about dum-dum over there.”

His eye catches on a song title, and he pauses to let the sample play. At first it was just because the song is marked “Beginner Level”, but he recognizes the clip as a tune he’d once caught Peter humming as he worked on some homework. Being the privacy-respecting parental figure he is, Tony had proceeded to tease him relentlessly because One Direction? Wow, Pete, gotta say I didn’t peg you as a pre-teen girl from 2012.

Still, out of the corner of his eye, he sees Peter perk just slightly, the little dork-- and it’s enough that Tony’s pressing the ‘play’ button without further mental argument.

The screen changes to four dancers, two of which are labeled for his and Dum-E’s remotes. As the opening measures of guitar riff begin, Tony mimics the pose of the avatar on screen and peeks over his shoulder.

“I need my tambourine player,” he reminds, and though Peter’s face is twisted in an expression of intrigue, he quickly readies his knuckle against the side of the Chex bowl and starts tapping it in time with the music.

And Tony dances.

“You’re insecure… Don’t know what for. You’re turnin’ heads as you walk through the do-o-or.”

“How the crap?” Tony mutters, watching Dum-E hit every move perfectly whilst his own avatar misses several points. “How-“

“Don’t need make-up… to cover up. Bein’ the way that you are in en-uh-uh-ough.”

The graphics go crazy for the beginning of the chorus and Tony cringes, though that changes when behind him he hears a small laugh that makes his heart stutter. He doesn’t look just yet, just tries harder to wave his remote hand in time with the song with exaggerated movements.

“Baby, you light up my world like nobody else. The way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed-“

This is definitely written for preteen girls, he sighs internally. Still... it’s undeniably catchy. To add to the show, he starts mumble-singing out the words aloud as they scroll on-screen:

“The way you smile at the ground, it ain’t hard to tell, you don’t kno-o-ow, you don’t know you’re beautiful-”

That’s when the ‘tambourine’ beats stop. When Tony looks behind him he sees the kid shaking with silent laughter, an open-mouthed smile on his face.

He meets Tony’s eyes and for once there’s no weight of the world there. He’s just-- Peter.

It’s a sight too beautiful to describe.

“Oooh, keep trying!” the game prompts when Tony forgets to keep up. Their eyes flicker to the screen and Tony huffs.

“I’m not cut out for this follow-along stuff,” he says airily, giving up on it completely. “Tony Stark follows no one’s rules but his own.”

And with that, he slings his remote strap around U’s claw and breaks into his own freestyle moves, the ones he usually reserves for dancing in private, when he’s sleep-deprived and a little loopy. Be that as it may, Tony Stark knows he is a good dancer; he never imagined it would come in handy for a moment such as this, but heck, there’s not much he wouldn’t do if it got Peter doubling over in peels of giggles like he is right now.

When the song hits the chorus a second time, Tony grabs a screwdriver off the shelf, turning it upside-down as an impromptu microphone, and he sings the next words directly to his beaming kid:

“Peter, you light up my world like no-bo-dy else. The way that you- have- hair? Na-na-nanana-- The way you smile at the ground, it ain’t hard to tell, you don’t kno-o-ow--”

Peter goes still, a lingering smile on his face as he listens to Tony’s altered lyrics.

“-If only you saw what I can see, you'd understand why I LOVE you so PERFECTLY-- Right now I'm looking at you and I can't believe you don't know, oh oh- You don't know you're beautiful! Oh, oh-oh, Pe-ter you’re so beau-ti-ful!”

Tony breathes out, surprisingly choked up. He repeats the message as emphatically as he can, for however many times the song repeats it, his movements getting more silly and more sloppy until the music finally ends, bots trilling excitedly in the background about Dum-E’s somehow-perfect score.

He lowers himself to the ground in front of Peter, panting from exertion. The hum of menu music plays behind them but the game is forgotten.

“Peter Benjamin Parker,” Tony breathes. “You are worth… everything. The whole world. You were, you are, and you always will be.”

Peter’s eyes shine like stars. He melts into Tony’s hold when the man leans forward.

…

Peter has scars, but Peter is not his scars.

[itsclydebitches]

Can we please have more of Uncle Oz? That prompt was beautiful and my little heart needs more. Specifically why Oz slept on the couch before as Yang mention it has happened in the past. *puppy eyes*

Okay, okay, I’m an IDIOT who doesn’t remember her own writing. Because my fool brain ended up writing about Qrow sleeping on the couch instead, for undetermined reasons. Will I ever successfully answer a prompt? Will Qrow and Oz ever end up in the same drabble together again? Stay tuned to find out! 

(Prompt list is here) 

Tai took two steps into Ozpin’s latest apartment, saw the quilt lying haphazardly over the couch, and had the distinct urge to walk back out again.

“What did he do this time?” he sighed.

Ozpin’s lips thinned. He cast his own look at the messy pile of pillow and blankets, seeming to project an unwarranted amount of disdain at the poor, innocent fabrics. They wouldn’t be the first inanimate objects to take the brunt of Ozpin’s emotions. In lieu of people—and very much to their benefit—Ozpin tended to take his rare anger out on the trees of Forever Fall Forest; the occasional dish that gave a satisfying shatter. Those moments truly were rare though. More often than not Tai simply found piles of methodically torn up paper on Ozpin’s desk.

Right now the sleeve of his sweater was slowly coming undone, the loose thread rolled, rolled, rolled between two fingers. Yep.

“Don’t even try it,” Tai said, gesturing at the weak smile Ozpin had just conjured out of will alone. “If you tell me not to worry, say it’s nothing, or worse, start going on about how I came here for a nice visit? I will take this umbrella and shove it straight up your ass.”

“Hardly the best way to start our evening together.” This time the twitch of his lips was genuine. Ozpin swept aside to let Tai through, arm falling in a graceful arc to indicate the umbrella stand and a small mat for his shoes. “Truly though, you didn’t come here to—”

“Finish that sentence, Oz. I dare you.” Tai shook the umbrella and a thousand water droplets scattered across the floor.

“Oh for dust’s sake. You’re as stubborn as he is,” and with a huff Ozpin turned on his heel and headed back towards the kitchen.

Hmm. That didn’t bode well.

A lack of reprimand for getting water all over his entryway? Check.

Insulting his guest—because yes, any comparison to Qrow was an automatic insult in this family—right when they’d arrived? Check.

Visible frustration, petulant attitude, further faux pas by abandoning Tai to his own devices? Check, check, check. Tai cast a longing look at the door and kicked off his shoes.

“Formal announcement,” he said, wandering into the kitchen to find Oz slamming milk onto the counter. “I would like to remind everyone here,” Tai gestured to an invisible audience, “that I am not even related to you. Not technically. Not since I dumped Raven’s fine ass. And yet here I am, the best of fake brother in laws, here to be your shoulder to cry on. Metaphorically. Because I just bought this shirt and I’m not prepared to find out what two-thousand year old tears might do to it.”

The look Ozpin cast him could have melted iron. “Are you going to be like this all night?”

“Until you tell me what happened? Absolutely.”

“Very well. That shirt is horrendous though. By the way.”

“Thank you. Wore it special for this visit. Oh, extra marshmallows in mine. Don’t be stingy, old man.”

Ozpin agreed with a roll of his eyes, plopping said marshmallows into two mugs as the milk began to steam. He’d said once that only fools put the marshmallows in last. Pouring cocoa over them ensured the perfect, almost-melted-but-not-quite consistency for scooping up with a spoon. Tai had said he was crazy and had said spoon chucked at his head.

The cocoa was very good though.

“I can hear it buzzing,” Tai said, taking a seat at the counter. With speed worthy of a huntsmen Oz had his scroll out and tucked away in a drawer. Neither he nor Qrow had much time to cook, so their kitchen had the sort of aesthetic perfection usually only found in domestic magazines. Tai ran his finger over the absurdly clean marble top, tracing a line from mug to salt shaker. “You ever going to answer him?”

Ozpin pulled up a stool directly beside Tai, their knees now pressed together. Need for physical contact? Check.

“My silence is answer enough.”

“Oz.”

“He—”

Ozpin cut himself off and all at once the wind went right out of Tai’s sails. Oh. No more jabs or check-lists then. That expression wasn’t something to trifle with. He…

Well. Let’s just say the last time Ozpin looked like that he’d had the name ‘Summer’ on his lips. Dejection of that sort—pulling at an intrinsically optimistic nature—only ever meant someone’s death.

The mug of cocoa slammed down on the counter. “Qrow’s dead?”

“Tai.”

“Right, right, sorry. Stupid, knee-jerk question. So he…?”

“Almost died, yes.” Ozpin delivered the news without a trace of emotion. Not to the casual observer, at least. “Of course, he’d never admit as much to himself. Let alone to me. Oh no, the man will go to his grave—literally!—insisting that he’s never made an impulsive decision in his life. Not on the battlefield, anyhow.” His own mug was snatched up and half the chocolate poured down his throat. “I married a fool.”

Been there, Tai almost said, but bit his lip at just the last moment. Right. Serious conversation now. It was just hard when he could so clearly see the picture spread out before him. He hadn’t visited last week because Qrow and Oz were out on a mission, the sort of thing that wasn’t secret exactly, but played close between them for Tai’s own peace of mind. They had to have encountered grimm because Ozpin would have been on a warpath if any humans or faunus had gotten between them. So maybe Qrow took on too many. Or, as Oz said, played the over confident fool. Maybe he was just careless.

…or maybe, based on how Oz was rubbing at his shoulder, Qrow had taken a hit meant for him.

“How bad is it?”

The question came out a whisper, but you’d have thought Tai shouted it with the way Ozpin jerked. Right. Pretty unused to having other people read him so easily—or at all. Tai would have liked to rib him on it. Only problem was, Oz was only transparent like this when something was well and truly bothering him.

Damn his own, kind nature. Tai was a freaking saint and everyone was going to realize it one of these days. He should really get some sort of medal.

Ozpin, meanwhile, had deliberately moved his hands back to his mug and carefully re-schooled his features. They might as well have been discussing budget reports.

“He dodged it,” Ozpin said, each word clipped and a little bit fragile. “Barely. After pushing me out of the way, of course. You’d think two thousand years of training would keep me from making an initiate’s mistake, hmm?”

“You’d think two thousand years of training would have taught you the lesson you’re always pushing on us.”

“Which is?”

“No one’s perfect, Oz.”

A curl of his lip and two taps against porcelain. It said, I should be.

“I don’t care about perfection.” Liar. “But I do care if my mistakes endanger others. More pressingly, given that it’s clear I will continue to make mistakes, I care greatly when others wish to take on my consequences when there is absolutely no need.”

Tai forced himself to swallow down another sigh. Oh, they all knew that speech well now. The problem with befriending an immortal was that he believed, with every fiber of his being, that he was meant to take the hit. Always.

Tai also knew damn well that he wouldn’t be the guy to talk Oz out of that. That particular honor went to the man currently banished to the couch.

Funny the irony there. And by ‘funny’ Tai meant ‘Not at all what the absolute fuck, Ozpin.’

“What I’m hearing,” he said slowly. “Is that you’re punishing Qrow for doing—wait for it—this absolutely horrible thing called loving you.”

Ozpin scowled. “You know very well it’s more complicated than—”

“Get over it.”

Ozpin blinked.

“Everything’s complicated for you. Everything is always going to be complicated. So for just this one thing get over it and accept that Qrow loves you. That loving you might include dying for you. I sure as hell hope not, but if you don’t allow him that then you’re gonna reach a point where he’s not even sleeping on the couch anymore.”  

Impassioned speeches, thy name is not Tiayang Xiao-Long. He’d tried though. With good reason. Ozpin was staring at the countertop now, one foot lightly bobbing over the rung of his stool. A bit of his bottom lip pulled up between his teeth. That was something.

Oh, Tai was under no illusions that he’d change someone like Ozpin so easily. But for now? That lack of pushback was just enough.

Finally Ozpin raised his head. He moved it in what might have been Remnant’s smallest, most terrified nod.

Or maybe Tai was just finding what he wanted to see.

“You want to see Ruby’s latest drawing?” he asked, tapping the space above his heart. Pure coincidence that his girls’ artwork happened to be tucked in the pocket there. “She’s got some pretty awesome ideas about what the grimm must look like.”

Ozpin’s eyes shown. “But of course. Although… perhaps we should wait for Qrow?”

Just like that. Smooth it over. Tai was good at that, though he had no illusions that he’d never again walk in to see Qrow’s pillow stuffed onto one end of that couch. Dust only knew how Oz would react the next time he tried to play hero… or whether Tai would ever be allowed to die for him as he would any other friend. That might be too much to ask him for.

Remember he’s different, Tai thought. Every victory is so much larger when it’s with Oz. You’ve just gotta remember that.

Tai lifted his mug in a toast. “Sounds like a plan.”

The cocoa was cold now. Tai decided to focus on the sweetness instead.

[nam-nam-joon]

comfortable

Pairing: taehyung x reader

Genre: fluff

Wordcount: 2.4k

Warnings: cuddling, otherwise none~

Summary: you initially go over to polish the balcony of your neighbour, who then invites you to stay for lunch - and a nap afterwards

The sun had climbed high enough in the sky to fully shine its light on the tiny balcony you currently occupied, surrounded by pots, flowers both dead and barely alive. Accompanied by a small shovel and a sack of soil you’d spent the last hours trying to save what could be saved concerning the plants that had sat the winter long in the pots hanging on your neighbour’s handrail; receiving nothing but a thin sheet of snow and the unrelenting pecks of birds.

The stack of newspapers under your shins served as a pillow against the cold floor, and you took a moment to shuffle around to sit back on it more comfortably.

Taehyung had put cheap bamboo wrapping around the metal bars running around the edges of the little outside space and it provided a great shield against the, admittedly, still freezing breeze. It was nearing April now and the wind had yet to change from biting cheeks to caressing the little flowers peeking their heads out from the ground. You, however, were currently comfortably warm bathed in the bright light.

Several bones popped as you stretched your back out.

Dirt collected under your fingernails and in the creases of your hands.

You didn’t really bother wiping them clean, not just yet. There was still a weak little bush of lavender needing assistance; but before you could reach for were it currently lay between the repotted catnip and fuchsia, the glass door in your back opened.

The smell of something delicious wafted outside together with a gush of heated air.

Taeyhung’s head peeked out and down on you, a grin stealing on his features as he observed you lazily blinking up at him.

“Remind me again which of us is the cat?” He asked, amused. You chuckled and stretched your legs.

“It’s really nice out here. Warm, sunny… very pleasant. Also, fresh air. You should try it sometime, does wonders for your body.”

He wrinkled his nose in fake disgust before his face momentarily vanished back inside.

Moments later it popped out again, together with the rest of him.

In his hands were two glasses of juice, one of which he graciously extended toward you.

You accepted with a word of thanks and took a sip.

“You’re almost done?” He noted after a moment of quiet; intelligent eyes running over the mess you made on his tiles. You nodded.

“Yup. Sorted out everything that was beyond saving and put it in that basket over there, everything else is in these pots here. Only gotta put your lavender back now. When it gets warmer you can go out and shop for replacements for your… whatever that stuff with the long little branches and loads of dead little leafs was.”

He leaned back against the closed door and nodded, gaze still taking in the shrubbery while his tail softly swished back and forth behind him.

It flicked abruptly, just before he opened his mouth.

“Do you want to stay for lunch? I made noodles and soup, and there’s some leftover from the take-away BBQ I had yesterday evening. More than enough for two.”

You finished your juice and leaned forward to place the empty glass on the railing to the side. Taehyung’s eyes followed your movement and his left arm, with its hand stuck into his pants’ pocket, twitched.

He ignored the amused raise of your eyebrow and his ears turned backwards.

“Is that a thank-you for saving your greenery?”

His hand, half on the way to the glass, changed course and came up to rub his neck as his eyes finally met your gaze again.

“If you want to? Although you’re probably doing only yourself a favour here; I can’t say I care that much about them…”

“Evidently.” You tsked, soothing the harsh comment with an easy smile. “Nah, my pleasure. And yes, I’d love to grab a bite. Got some work done?”

He seemed to pause briefly before finally picking up your empty glass. “I- Yeah. It’s still way too many files to look through and write emails, but- It’s less now.”

“Some nice people with the applications?”

His strong eyebrows creased the skin between them.

“A few. Most of them don’t immediately fall out, but it’s the other documents you have to really look out for if you want to weed out those who don’t, y’know, really want to help.”

You nodded in understanding and turned back to the helpless lavender still lying on the floor.

Taehyung lingered a while longer but then returned back inside with a swish of his tail, leaving you to his pots once more.

He kept quiet during your lunch, after you’d scrubbed your hands clean and brushed a few stray leafs out of your hair.

“Everything alright?” You asked, after both of you had picked up your spoons and started eating a few mouthfuls.

He chewed on a piece of vegetable and stared into the foggy liquid for a while. When he lifted his head and his tawny eyes found yours you noticed how worn out he looked.

The shaded rings around his eyes and the slightly matted hair hadn’t been noticeable in the bright sunlight.

“Tae?”

“-Yes.” He hurried to answer, hiding a yawn behind his palm. “Yeah, I’m just- just tired.”

He shot you a quick, unconvincing upturn of his lip’s corners before picking his bowl up again and continue eating.

“Maybe you should take the afternoon off. Have some rest.”

As soon as the words had left your lips you saw the shift in his face, the hardening of the muscles around his jaw.

“I can’t. We have so many young ones in the shelter at the moment - we can’t afford- I can’t afford to keep them waiting for too long. They need good families, as soon as possible.”

“Okay.” Your voice was deliberately soft after his outburst. He sighed and avoided looking you, and so you reached out with your right to cover his left hand gently.

His fingers twitched but he didn’t pull away.

The tension in his shoulders eased somewhat, up until the point that his ears rose from where they had flattened to his scalp as his gaze slowly rose to yours.

“If I can help in any way - please let me know. Okay? I’m always here, just across the hall.”

A tired, but this time genuine, smile, stole on his face as he tilted his head and gave you a long look.

“I know. Thank you. You’re an awesome neighbour.”

You grinned.

“I sure hope so. Otherwise it’d be a shame if some of your new pots would magically find themselves on the terrace three stories down, hmm?”

One of his eyebrows quirked up.

“Are you insinuating you’d - you’d push them over the edge?” His eyes narrowed. “Not funny.”

The boxy smile contradicted the serious tone of his voice greatly and you laughed.

Without him needing to ask, you picked up the dishtowel and began to dry the bowls that he placed dripping wet on the little rack.

The small smile he send in thanks warmed your insides.

Now and then you could hear a faint tune from the radio in the next room, playing calm pop music. Even the street below his kitchen window was almost devoid of cars passing by; only the occasional couple or warmly wrapped individual sauntering past.

You felt his presence on your right as he joined you standing next to the window, looking down.

The warmth on his face as he took in yours made you smile.

He opened his mouth, caught sight of something on the upper right part of your hair, and paused.

There was a quick glance of his pointy canines as he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, biting down on it before seeming to overcome the struggle taking place inside.

“Do you- Would you mind, uh- You wanna stay for a nap?”

The shyness was new, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t somewhat endearing.

Work must have really worn him down.

"Sure. The couch?"

Visibly relieved by your positive reaction, the cat hybrid’s tail flicked as he turned towards the living room.

“I would take the bed, usually, but with the sun… we could place the cushions on the floor and? With, with a blanket?”

You inclined your head with a small smile. “Works for me.”

The cushions turned out to be a lot smaller for two people than expected, but after you’d given Taehyung your Okay that you didn’t mind body contact he wrapped his limbs around you, pulled himself almost completely on top of you.

After a bit of shuffling he finally rested his head next to yours, one of his arms lying across your upper chest, one leg hooked around yours.

“Want me to pet your hair?”

The quiet "Yes" almost escaped your ears.

You felt the small shiver running through him at your words and suppressed a smile. Your neighbour of the past year was more like a cat than he liked to admit, sometimes.

It took you a moment to find out where he liked your fingers rubbing soothing circles into his hair the most, lightly scratching the base of his ears, and carding through the locks at the nape of his neck, to getting him to fully relax.

The thin tail snaking around your upper thigh was the first sign you did something right, before Taehyung drifted off far enough to no longer care if he purred or not.

Day to day you hardly ever saw him embracing the animal side of him, whether it be curling his lips over his teeth but refraining to hiss when a car drove through a puddle near him and splattered him with muddy water, nor purring in comfortable situations. Or at all.

Now, you held your breath, fingers pressing down on the spot above where his ears would have been, had they been human.

The sound was minimal at first, started as a soft rumble deep down in his chest. Under your administrations it rose to a steady vibration that travelled through his body into yours, the spot where his chin met your shoulder almost tingling.

He sighed and adjusted his position, hand tightening on your side, pulling you further into him. The leg on top of yours stretched minimally before settling back into its place, his hips rolling forward once without any determination behind it.

The steady rise and fall of his purring, together with the warmth of his body and the blanket on top of you lulled you in.

The sunbeams streaming through the windows bathed your little pile into an island of light, the walls and rest of the room slinking back in shadow.

You risked a glance sideways.

Taehyung was so beautiful.

His lashes fanned over his cheekbones, his lips slightly parted for breathing.

He must have forgone shaving this morning; you could see the thick stubbles of his whiskers dotting the skin next to his nostrils as well as the thinner ones of his would-be human scruff peppering his upper lip and over his chin.

Something tugged softly on your heart.

Your hand dropped from his hair to his cheek, caressing the soft skin there.

He licked over his lips and tucked his head in, rubbing his cheek against your touch in his sleep.

“Get some rest, Tae-Tae. You deserve it.”

You whispered, foreheads only parted by an inch.

“As long as you don’t go anywhere.”

His voice was thick, words slurred by sleep, and you doubted he was fully awake.

Nonetheless did it surprise you; the absence of his purring making the room sound weirdly quiet all of a sudden.

“I won’t.” And you picked up carding his hair again, Taehyung slipping back into a deeper slumber. When his purring resumed you felt heavy, deciding to give into sleep as well.

You blinked your eyes open an indefinite amount of time later.

The world was warm and you felt pleasantly heavy.

Upon attempting to move you found Taeyhung had now completely made himself comfortable on top of you. His face rested in the crook of your neck, breath hot and a bit wet against your skin, while his left hand held onto the pillow under your head next to your face.

“Taehyung.”

You placed a hand on his side, feeling the resistance of his last rib and then the firm softness of his waist below.

He grumbled in response.

“Shouldn’t we get up?”

He groaned, pressing down on you and adjusting into a more comfortable position, as if that would be answer enough.

“Hey.”

You gently rocked him from side to side, all the movement you could muster at this point.

“Do you have any idea how distracting you look, sitting out there, taking care of my stuff and potting my plants?”

His voice was raspy and deep, muffled by both your pullover covering your shoulder and the blanket.

“No.” You answered truthfully, fingernails running over his scalp once more.

He groaned in satisfaction.

Then he lifted his head, as if remembering your position, your person.

The purr building in the back of his throat died down.

He blinked.

“And your pets are criminally good.” He narrowed his eyes. “Have you been practicing on a hybrid I don’t know about?”

You grinned at the suspicious look on his face.

“I swear, I’ve been true and faithful. You are my one and only.”

His ears turned back and the apples of his cheeks slightly deepened in colour.

You laughed out loud, as best as you could with his considerable weight on your chest.

“Okay Kitkat, off now. I really need to use the bathroom. Don’t you have work to do, too?”

With a begrudging sigh he gave you free, sheepishly blinking at you with half his face buried in your pillow.

The end of a grin was visible on his lips.

“‘Kitkat’?” He repeated, voice caught somewhere between an amused snort and touched.

You knelt next to the pile, studying his face before he rolled on his back, taking the blanket with him and pulling it over his face until all that was visible were his eyes.

“You don’t like it?”

“No, I… I do. I do.”

“Then yes. Kitkat.”

As you left the room you could hear Taeyhung mumbling the nickname to himself.

leave a comment or like if you enjoyed reading this ^-^

[stellanoble]

Bloodstream {Bamon One-Shot}

So, it was recently pointed out to me that I’ve never shared my smutty goodness with Tumblr, so here you go. This was posted on FF.net and A03 awhile back, until I moved everything to my own website. It’s the first fanfic I ever wrote, which lead to the 23 chapter madness that is ODD DAYS. Enjoy!  - SN

Summary:  Bonnie and Damon are trapped in the Prison World. When his pessimism drives Bonnie to tears, Damon comforts her the only way he knows how - and discovers a longing for something more. 

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries: BAMON

Rating: All the smut. Like, all of it.

Musical Inspiration: Bloodstream by Stateless

She talks in her sleep. Random words and phrases in Latin, half mumbled curses and imaginings slipping past her lips in a purge. It’s like she’s trying to relearn magick even as she dreams, her subconscious attempting to tap back into the only thing that can get them home. He teases her about it relentlessly, but he’s already grown accustomed to the sounds; her white noise is a comfort on the nights he can’t sleep. Makes the world seem less empty.

It doesn’t happen often, but every once in a while - usually after a few too many drinks - she retires to her room opposite his and cries herself to sleep. He hears her through the walls, late night whimpering and pillow smothered sobs that, in the real world, could be mistaken for the sounds of the boardinghouse settling or some restless animal outside. He’d lay there, listening, wanting to get up and apologize for calling her useless, or for whatever else he had done that day to undermine her hope. But he was conscious of her efforts to keep her tears to herself; the crush of cotton against her lips echoed in his ears as she fought to suffer silently.   So usually, he would simply listen, try to afford her some privacy in this world so full of nothing. He’d picture her green eyes swollen and weeping, count the rapid beats of her heart, and wish the sadness would leave long enough for her to get some rest.

But tonight, when Bonnie’s tears start, he remembers the depth of her compassion, her empathy. He recalls the sacrifices she’s made - for their friends, for him, for those they love. He realizes she’s crying for the both of them. Crying for what they’ve lost, for what their lives could have been. And suddenly he’s no longer content to let her suffer on her own.

Damon gets out of bed and crosses the hall, entering Bonnie’s room without knocking. She starts but doesnt speak, doesnt look at him; just wipes her face quickly and curls deeper into the blankets. After a moment’s hesitation, he crawls onto the bed, staying on top of the blankets but wrapping his arms around her, burying his face in her hair.

“Come on, BonBon,” he says quietly. “Your chili wasn’t that bad.”

She laughs - the sound still choked with tears, but a laugh nonetheless.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he whispers, squeezing her softly. “We’re alone in this, together.”

She doesn’t reply, but her arms come up and grip him, her fingers intertwining with his. He kisses the top of her head and draws her closer, tightening their spoon position as her breath steadies into rhythmic air.

“We’ll be alright, Bonnie.”

*.*.*

He wakes a few hours later, the night still pressing down on them. Somehow, he’s ended up underneath the covers with her in his arms, half on top of him, their legs tangled and her head resting in the hollow between his neck and shoulder.  Damon lays his head down on the pillow and lets himself drift back to sleep, his hands roaming over her back, gently trailing and petting. She’s warm, her skin emitting that clove and earth scent that is specifically Bonnie and he breathes it in, lets it flood his senses.

Halfway between awake and dream, he forgets this is his own personal hell, forgets the loss of his brother. He forgets the fear and the lack of control over the circumstances, and he forgets the longing to see the sparkle in Elena’s eyes one last time.  He doesn’t quite recognize the feeling that envelops him in this moment; it’s foreign and familiar all at the same time, but it soothes him, and he’s grateful.

Contentment. That’s the word he’s looking for.  More content than he can ever remember being, his cellmate nestled close and settled against him. He smiles softly and his hands grow stronger on her backside, pulling her into a kind of hug, his hips involuntarily pushing up into her.

The moan that escapes her lips is rich with sleep and longing, and though she’s still unconscious Bonnie grinds herself against him in response. Damon snaps awake, his skin warming and the blood rushing to specific parts of his anatomy. And before he can comprehend what he’s doing he thrusts into her again, locking his groan in his throat at the contact. Her hand sweeps across his bare chest, absently tickling and pinching his nipple, but he can hear the change in her heartbeat as she starts to wake up.   If he gives her a chance to realize what she’s doing she’ll stop, pull away, and in this darkness, in this content moment, that’s the last thing he wants. He misses being touched, misses the blood pulse of another body pressed into his. He doesn’t think, just slides his hands down to her hips and shifts her tiny frame to completely over his body, squeezing her ass and surging up against her pelvis again.

Her eyes are open now as she looks down at him, hands trembling slightly against his shoulders. She doesn’t speak and neither does he but he holds her stare, ice blue and forest green locked together, silently discussing the right and wrong of it, each daring the other to back down. It’s a long moment before she leans in and brushes her lips against his, softly, tentatively, and he lets her set the pace as she teases her tongue into his mouth. He groans when her flavor hits his tongue and that grateful feeling rolls over him again, and when he opens wide to take all of her in Bonnie responds with a moan of her own that shakes his core. He can smell the heat of her blood as the desire rises within her, all smoke and spice, and he has to fight the urge to sink his teeth deep into her throat and drown in her red.

It’s slow. Quiet. Movements only frantic with the threat of realization, voices only used to whisper encouragement.  Clothes tossed with abandon as lips, fingers, tongue find the secret hidden places that make her moan his name. She’s free, sensual, wicked in a way he never dreamed she could be and Damon briefly wonders how he could have missed all this fire inside her before. It’s overwhelming the way the power and lust bursts from her skin and embraces him, takes him in, accepting all that this is without judgment, without fear. It’s only when her small, delicate hand grasps his cock and guides him to her entrance, only when he sees the hunger on her face does he realize that same inferno is burning within him, that this consuming is something they can only bring out in one another.

Heat. Pulsing, tingling, devastating heat wrapped around his cock like a vise and she meets him thrust for thrust, rolling her hips like a dancer, taking all he has to give. Which, from his perspective, is everything. Every whimper. Every growl. Every drop of sweat and every empty beat of his undead heart belongs to her. He can’t look her in the eye because he’ll cum too soon and he needs this to last just a little bit longer. Just a little longer.

Just a little bit longer.

The sharp tug of her fingers in his hair are just another spur now as she pulls him back into her line of sight and covers his mouth with hers.  He kisses her, hard and deep, losing himself in it before she deliberately runs her tongue along his fang, splitting it open and filling his mouth with blood.   Hot copper, sacred fire, hitting his throat as he surges into the tight, wet sheath of her body. His name, rising and falling on her breath, her nails in his flesh, the electric shock of her cunt as she starts to cum. He can’t take it, it’s too much too fast and Damon is emptying his cock inside her before he can stop himself, the ecstasy racing through his body and across every nerve. It’s good, so good and so fucking perfect he can’t help the roar of her name that bellows out of him, cant help the bruising grip he has on her hips as he watches the witch come apart beneath him, with him, for him.

It’s a few moments before either of them can move. But when he’s done panting air he doesn’t need to breathe, he’s gathering her to him, his hands cupping her face and staring into her bright eyes. She looks beautiful and spent, lips swollen and bruised from his attention, and when she opens her mouth to speak he kisses her again, effectively silencing her. He doesn’t want to hear it. He doesn’t want to remember where they are, who they are. He just wants this moment of peace and her magickal blood slipping across his tongue.

This moment where just the two of them is enough.

[marvelousbirthdays]

Happy Birthday,  phantomofthenightclub!

May 3 - "What’s your favorite silverware? Because I like to spoon!” Jemma/Bucky or Karen Page/Frank Castle for @phantomofthenightclub

This is Jemma/Bucky, unashamedly pulling from the classic ‘huddling for warmth’ trope :3

Written by @cinnaatheart (CinnaAtHeart on AO3)

The cabin is so many shades of ‘disaster waiting to happen’ Jemma can scarcely believe it actually exists. The tiny, one-bedroom homestead is hidden in the wilds of Canada, an hour’s drive from the nearest township. The bedroom itself is poky and cramped, the mattress on the bed at least a few decades old, and the kitchen- if one could really call it that- smells ever so faintly of rancid meat and cigarette smoke. So far out, the cabin isn’t hooked to the power grid, powered instead by a generator that could be described as shonky at best, and don’t even get her started on the bathroom. It’s a horror show on all levels, and more than once she pinches herself, as though somehow it might wake her from this walking nightmare of a mission.

Jemma’s suspects their ‘banishment’ here is half-research assignment, half an excuse to keep Barnes hidden in the aftermath of the latest international disaster. Another ‘favour for a friend’, no doubt, though Coulson had been sketchy on the details.

She doesn’t quite know what to think of Barnes. He seems quiet for the most part; when she saw him back at base, he seemed to move tentatively, like he’s afraid of making himself noticeable. A helpless case there; more than once Jemma’s had to remind herself to stop staring, all too easily entranced by the graceful utility of his movements and his muted smile when he sees something he likes. It’s… distracting, and she’d been almost relieved to finally reach the cabin and have him run off as soon as she’d set her bags down..

She sighs, and stares glumly down at the generator, lit dimly by the torch on her phone. Unsurprisingly, it had gone kaput about ten minutes ago, taking with it their only source of light. “Damn,” she huffs. She looks over the machine, searching for any evidence of a fault, breath turning to a thick fog around her. “Why couldn’t Fitz have come along?”

“What’s wrong?”

Jemma yelps, and her phone tumbles from her frozen grip, landing with a disappointing thwack in the slush around the generator. “Bugger,” she growls, and bends down to retrieve it, wiping the mud off carefully. “You scared me,” she says, glaring over at Barnes half-heartedly. He at least has the grace to look sheepish, his face deeply shadowed by the moonlight. She wonders, briefly, where he’s been all day.

“Sorry,” he says. He scratches at the back on his head awkwardly, and motions to the generator. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Jemma fusses, and turns back to the machine. “It just… stopped working! I have a basic knowledge of how it works, but Fitz is the engineer, not me.”

“Hmm,” he hums. He shoulders past her, and Jemma tries not to inhale too deeply at the scent of him; leather and the sharp, astringent scent of pine needles. Rude.

Barnes crouches down beside the generator, and looks over it curiously; Jemma tries to light his view for him with her phone, but she doubts there’s much they can do in the dark. Better off really to wait until morning to see what the problem is.

As if to confirm her thoughts, Barnes settles back on his haunches, looking put out. “Beats me what’s wrong with it,” he sighs, breath misting. “Guess we’ll just have to live by candlelight tonight.”

Jemma bites her lip, and misses the way his gaze lingers on her mouth. “Do you think we can fix it tomorrow? I need to be able to use my computer.”

He shrugs. “Maybe? I’m no expert, but I think we can work it out.”

She nods, satisfied. A cold breeze rustles through the trees, and through the silhouetted branches, she watches a mass of clouds creep over the moon. She shivers. “I wonder if it’ll snow again.”

Barnes scowls and stands, fussing with the thick scarf wrapped around his neck. “I hope not. C’mon, we should get inside.”

“Right,” Jemma says absently, and she lets him lead her around the cabin and inside. It’s significantly warmer, though she’d let the wood-burning stove go cold hours ago, and the fire’s died down. “Where have you been, anyway?”

He shrugs off his coat and hangs it on one of the hooks by the door, kicking off his muddy boots with a graceful efficiency. She copies him, and grimaces as she realises how much warmth she’s let leech away from the rooms, the chill of the wood seeping through her socks. Shouldn’t have let herself get distracted by her work.

Barnes ambles over to the fire and tosses in another cut log. “Just out,” he says. “Felt like going for a walk.”

“All day?” she blurts out, and when he glances over at her she blushes, fumbling for the right thing to say. “Sorry- it’s just- you know…”

He shakes his head, looking wary. “No, I don’t know.”

Jemma shrugs helplessly. “Well… most people I know don’t go for day long ‘walks’ through the wilds of Canada in the middle of winter! Did you even take food?”

He pinks and glances away. “I… didn’t want to get in your hair,” he says quietly. Jemma blinks in surprise.

“Why would you get in my hair?”

His mouth twists. She finds his micro-expressions fascinating. For a former assassin, Jemma thinks, he’s not terribly good at school his emotions. “I’ve seen you work. At base,” he explains, every word slow and deliberate, “you seem to get very… absorbed. I didn’t want to break your concentration.”

“Oh,” she says, and looks away. She can’t think of anything else to say.

--

Jemma shifts in her bed for the umpteenth time, curled in on herself to try and stave off the bitter cold. The main room of the cabin may be warm- thanks to the fire and the stove- but the poky little bedroom Barnes had insisted she take is freezing, even with four layers of blankets and a woollen duvet. Sleeping had been a lost cause the moment she’d slipped into bed.

At her wit’s end, she sighs and slips out of the bed. The duvet she hangs around her shoulders like a cape, and determined, she pick up her musty-smelling pillow and wanders out into the main room. The change in temperature is immediate, the fire stoked so enthusiastically she almost begins to sweat.

Barnes- spread languidly across the single, uncharacteriscally spacious futon, book in hand- looks up. “Hey,” he says, looking confused. The warm orange light of the fire casts his face is rich shadows. “What’s up?”

“I…” Jemma shuffles self-consciously. She feels oddly child-like, draped in her blanket and clutching her pillow like a teddy-bear. If Barnes thinks the same, he shows no sign of it. “I couldn’t sleep. My room is freezing.”

“Ah,” he says. He dog-ears his page and drops the paperback on the floor. “Did you want the couch?”

“No, no! It’s fine! I can just sleep on the floor.”

He frowns at her. “I ain’t gonna let a woman sleep on the floor,” he says disapprovingly.

“It’s fine, really! I’ve slept on far worse!”

“Bull.” He shakes his head and sits up. In his sweatpants and knitted jumper, he looks soft and unfairly handsome; miles away from the legend he carried for fifty years. “The floor’ll leach the warmth right outta you.”

“Fine,” she capitulates. It’s late, she reasons, and she’s tired. “We could share the couch though…? I mean, if that’s okay with you…”

His brows rise in surprise and he blinks at her. “Yeah alright.”

He lies back down and holds up his blanket, and it’s Jemma’s turn to stare at him in surprise. His mouth curls into a smirk. “C’mon doll,” he says. “I’m getting’ cold here. No shame in keeping warm.”

“Right!’ Jemma is certain her entire face is on fire, but she drops her pillow and sits down tentatively at the edge of the futon. She had meant sleep end-to-end, but when a man like Barnes offers to share his space, she’s not about to object. She’s selfish like that.

He smiles and tugs her down, tucking her back against him and pulls his blankets over the top of them. “Do you mind?” he asks quietly, hand hovering over her waist.

“It’s fine,” she says again, feeling stiff and ungainly as she shifts, trying to get herself comfortable despite her acute awareness of his proximity. He murmurs a ‘thanks’ into her hair, and curls his arm around her waist. Jemma’s mouth goes dry, heart stuttering in her chest.

“If it makes you feel any better, I promise not to let my hands wander.”

“I’m sure,” she says. “Sorry to make you share.”

He chuckles, low and soft. “Oh, I dunno,” he drawls, and Jemma may not be able to see him, but she can hear his smirk plain as day, “I’m always up for a nice spoon.”

“Oh my God,” she says, face burning. “Please shut up.”

“What’s wrong, doll? Got another piece of silverware in mind?”

“I have no idea what that means, but I can hear the euphemism in your voice.”

He laughs again, and his arm tightens around Jemma’s waist. Barnes is blissfully warm, the smell of pine weaker now, but still present. She stares into the fire, hypnotised by the flames. They’re peaceful.

“Don’t worry,” he says eventually. Jemma twitches in his hold, and tries not to dwell on the strange intimacy in his voice. “My intentions are pure, I swear.”

She giggles despite herself. “What a relief,” she drawls, her speech slurring with a wide, jaw-cracking yawn.

“You should sleep.”

“Mm. So should you.”

“Don’t worry about me, doll. You get your beauty sleep. You need it.”

She scoffs in mock outrage and elbows him in the gut, and Barnes yelps, flinching backwards. “Rude!” she scolds him and he cackles, the sound loud and cheery in her ear.

“Sorry- sorry!” he laughs. “I’ll behave, I swear.”

“Liar,” she grumbles, but she hides her smile beneath the blankets. This man is going to be the death of her, she’s sure.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Caramel Skin Under A Purple Sky prt 16

Letting himself into their bedroom, Kosmo growled at him softly before yipping and teleporting around the room. Sitting in the middle of their room, under the now open vent, was the bedside table. The objects from its top strewn across the room. Sniffing deeply, Keith smell Lance's fear and panic... then the subtle hues of blood. Feeling his baser instincts rumble to life, Keith jogged the few steps over to the bedside table, quick to climb up and hoist himself up into the air vent. He didn't have to try hard to find his husband. Lance was unconscious on the right side of the vent, his shirt shed. His hand still laxly gripping one of his boot knives, as if he'd been ready to attack anyone who followed him up. Reaching out to take the knife, Keith slipped a little. He'd hand to jump up to catch the edge of the vent opening, then hold himself up with the strength of his arms alone

"Kosmo...!"

  Teleporting him back down from the vent opening, Keith stared up at his new dilemma. Lance hadn't moved an inch when Keith had called for Kosmo

"Kosmo, get Lance"

Whining then yipping, Kosmo tilted his head to gaze up at the vent, before letting out a huge bark. If it was a simple matter of climbing up and pulling Lance back down, he could have done it himself. But Keith had no way of knowing how Lance was react to being moved, nor did he wish to risk hurting the their twins

"Kosmo! Get Lance out the vent and onto the bed!"

  Proving himself incompetent, Keith had to lift Kosmo up to the vent, his muscles straining under the weight, then his wolf finally cooperated by teleporting himself and Lance onto the bed, Lance bouncing lightly as Kosmo quiznakked the landing. Coming too, Lance dragged himself the small distance to curl up in the corner of the bed as if trying to make himself as small as possible. Something had to have happened. Something had to have scared his husband pretty badly if he'd fled up into the vents.

  Keeping his movements slow and deliberate, Keith climbed up onto the bed

"Lance? Babe, it's Keith"

Not answering, Keith's hand was smacked away as he went to reach for his husband. Keith knew he was acting out of fear, yet the action still stung

"Babe, I'm not going to hurt you. It's me. It's Keith"

Catching his husband's hand a Lance went to smack at him again. Holding his husband's wrist, Lance growled at him. Darting his hand past Lance's other hand, Keith tilted Lance's head up to look at him. Lance's eyes were clenched tightly closed. Leaning in, Keith tugged Lance's captured hand back, forcing his husband to hug him as he moved to nuzzle into Lance's cheek

"You're ok. You're ok, babe. It's me. Can you take a deep breath through your nose for me? See? It's my scent"

  Growling and huffing, his husband's breathing seemed to take forever to calm. Lance still guarded as he opened his eyes. Feeling Lance moving, his husband pushed him back, cocking his head to stare at him in confusion

"You're ok. You had a panic attack. You with me?"

Lance's eyes darted from Keith's face up to the open vent, then back to him

"I found you up in the vent. Can you tell me what happened?"

Shaking his head, Lance brushed him off as he climbed around Keith and off the bed, striding into the bathroom before closing the door wordlessly.

  Unsure whether to follow Lance or not, Keith found himself sitting on the edge scolding Kosmo for biting Curtis instead. Kosmo happily taking all the attention he was getting, his tail thudding happily against the floor as he rubbed at Keith's hands in an attempt to get even more pats than what was possible. It was times like this that he was wished Kosmo could talk. He knew what happened with Lance, while Keith was left on the sidelines until his husband was ready to talk. He knew he probably should have moved the bedside table back, but there was still the matter of replacing the vent cover... which while it wasn't urgent, it did need to go back up before they fell asleep and preferably glued back up there so Lance couldn't make another escape attempt. Maybe he was acting cowardly by not following Lance into the bathroom, but his fears had definitely gotten the better of him. How was he supposed to explain to Lance that in the short time he'd spent with his mother, he wasn't sure now was the right time to be having them? There was no harm in waiting. Plenty of couples waited until they were in their 30's before having children. So what if they were 50 when their kid turned 20? All that mattered was that they loved them. Lance hadn't even been all that happy about them...

 As if Kosmo could read his thoughts, his wolf yipped at him as he teleported away, sitting in front of the bathroom door as he narrowed his eyes towards Keith. Their twins weren't even born and Kosmo was already taking their side... All the half-Galran wanted was a few vargas to sit down alone and think things through, without the worry of Lance having some kind of episode. He was secretly sure that made him a horrible husband if he wanted a break from Lance already. His husband had told him he needed to rely on him until he was little stronger... now he wanted to run away. The worst thing was knowing that if he asked Lance for a little space to work his head out, his husband would give it to him, no questions asked.

  Left there for half a varga, Keith knee started bouncing with impatience. He had no idea what was taking Lance so long and felt as if he'd missed the acceptable timeframe to follow him in. When his husband finally came out, with a bandage wrapped around the upper part of his left thigh, Lance walked straight over to their bed, crawling in beside Keith then laying with his back towards him, Kosmo unhappy that his human had ignored him as he slunk over to lay in front of the bedroom door with a dejected huff. His husband smelt of the Altean bodywash that came with the room

"Babe?"

"C-can you hold me?"

"Uh. Sure... What's going on with you?"

  Moving up to spoon around Lance, Lance shook in his hold. This wasn't normal

"Babe, did something happen? Did you have a nightmare?"

Nosing into his pillow, Lance shook harder

"I... I... Can you talk to me... I can't..."

"Ok, ok. Shhh... we don't want to trigger another seizure. You're ok... Um... Um... Oh, Curtis came to check on you earlier. He got all flustered outside the door because he didn't want to walk in on you, then he decided to take a peak and see if you were awake... and he walked right into the door. I guess you didn't hear him? Kosmo did. He even bit him... That's why I was wondering if you had a nightmare... Curtis said he screamed like a girl and ran away as fast as he could"

"C-Curtis was here?"

"Yeah, baby. Did you hear him?"

"No... Nightmare"

"It must have been really bad. I found you in the air vent"

"Don't remember..."

"What happened to your leg?"

Taking his hand, Lance lifted it off, wriggling away from him. Mumbling at him, Lance went about pulling blankets up to cuddle into

"I don't remember. I'm going back to sleep. You go back to the festival"

"Babe?"

  What had he done wrong? Lance said to talk to him? And to hold him? He'd done what Lance wanted. Even with his gut still rolling with his thoughts

"Lance, I don't get what's going on with you"

"It's nothing"

"Babe, I know you better than that. You're still shaking"

"It's fine"

"What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing"

"Something's obviously up"

  Rolling over, Lance seemed nervous. He hadn't made to move towards him, if anything he'd moved backwards as he'd rolled. Keith knew it! He knew it, something else had happened, sure, Lance still had screaming nightmares, but nothing this bad for a while

"See. I knew something was up. What is it?"

"Curtis wasn't the only one who came to the room"

Keith wrinkled his brow. Lance seemed to be struggling with his words. There was a small extended gap between each word

"What do you mean?"

"I mean... I heard something and checked the door and there was this envelope. It had like photos of our date and a picture... of that red "y" shape... and I went blank after that"

  Keith frowned deeply. He hadn't seen anything like an envelope. The half-Galran's voice rough. This was the last thing his head needed right now. They hadn't heard anything. They hadn't found that planet. Shiro would have told them if something was wrong, or if there was some kind of danger

"What? Where is it? Did they try anything!?"

Lance gave a tiny shake of his head

"It burst into flames... I don't have it..."

Keith filled with relief. Envelopes didn't simply go exploding for now good reason. Instead it was far more likely that Lance had dreamt the whole thing. Half asleep and scared from Curtis being a moron... Yeah... That made sense

"That sounds like a pretty bad dream..."

Narrowing his eyes, Lance scowled

"It wasn't a dream"

"Babe"

"It wasn't a dream!"

Now he was upsetting Lance. He wasn't trying to be a dick about it, it just seemed super unlikely. Lance had had wild nightmares before

"Lance, you were half asleep and scared..."

"Are you serious right now? It happened!"

"Ok. Ok, babe. But it's not like you... You could have still been sleeping..."

"Get out!"

"Lance..."

"No. I was going to hide it from you. I was going to act like it was nothing. I was going to try and work it out myself. But I fucking tell you and you don't believe me. You jump right to "it must have a been a nightmare". "It must have been a hallucination". I thought my husband might actually believe me... Go away. Go back to the festival or something. I can smell you've got other things on your mind. I don't need your stress too"

  Lance rolled away from him again. Keith had well and truly fucked that one up

"Babe... I'm not saying I don't believe you, but... Why now?"

"I don't know..."

"Are you sure it wasn't a dream?"

"Maybe... maybe not. I'm going back to sleep so you should go"

Lance was doubting him. Doubting that he could approach it as something serious after calling it a dream... which he still thought it was. He'd bet GAC that was all in Lance's head. Keith been desperate for time to think alone. Now he was being evicted, he didn't want to leave. A tiny part of his brain believing what Lance had said. The tiny part that he should have listened to instead of upsetting his husband

"Alright... Babe... you can see how I thought it was all a dream, can't you?"

"You're my husband... I thought maybe you'd believe me, but you're probably right. It was probably my dumbarse hallucinating..."

Lance's voice quivering, his sentence trailing off with a soft sniffle

He couldn't go. Not now that he'd reduced Lance to tears. Sighing to himself mentally, Keith shifted over, wrapping his arm around Lance's waist, at least Lance didn't slap him away or attempt to escape his hold this time

"I'm sorry. It's just... really confusing. It's been so long"

"Don't you think I know that!  That's why I struggled with telling you..."

"Ok. Ok... Can I still stay and hold you?"

"It's your room too... I'm going back to sleep"

So Lance hadn't forgiven him. He was silently testing him. If he left then Lance would think he didn't believe him, and if he stayed that meant to Lance that he wanted to be there? Silent tests were the worst, especially when Keith didn't think he deserved it. Lance already knew his mind was preoccupied with other things. He was failing this mystery test no matter what he did.

    *

Fresh from his "hard fought win", Lance found himself disturbed by an overly loud and proud Shiro as Shiro flopped back onto the bed and shook his leg until he get his attention.

 Lance hadn't been able to sleep. His leg throbbed from where he'd nicked himself with his blade, before or during his escape up into the air vents. He didn't remember climbing up there. He didn't really remember much of anything after the photos went up in flames. He'd been unable to fall back to sleep, mentally kicking himself for telling Keith about the photos. Of course his husband wouldn't believe him. He was well aware of how crazy he sounded. With the way he'd been rehearsing what to say in the shower, he'd sounded crazier each time he'd said it. He hadn't wanted to tell Keith, but it was too big for him to deal with on his own. What if something happened to his husband because of this, and he'd simply sat their quiet about it all? He'd never be able to forgive himself for it. He knew what he saw. It wasn't a nightmare. It was as real to him as Keith's arm around his waist had been. His husband laying behind him tensely for the better part of a varga before mumbling "I'm sorry. I'm going to go", then leaving him there to cry it out alone. Not that he actually cried. No. He'd grown teary over Keith not believing him, then spent the... however long since Keith left, staring across at the grey wall on the other side of the bed. He didn't understand why he'd been so stupid. He was mentally ill. Keith was probably always being forced to choke down his real feelings about him. He'd smelt his husband's rejection on him the moment he'd come out of whatever episode his stupid mind had chosen to lock him in. Keith didn't want to be there. He didn't want to be with him. Or to be with their children. His husband was lying to him without even opening his mouth.

  Talking a hundred miles and hour about his win, Lance knew he was only going to ruin Shiro's mood. That's all he did. He wanted to bolt from the feeling in Shiro's hand on his leg, despite the fact there were three blankets between him and Shiro's hand. Curling up he covered his face with his hands and the blankets, trying to block Shiro from existence. He so badly wanted to be happy for him. He knew this whole "arm-wrestling thing" was a thing for Shiro and Curtis. Like his and Keith's thing was blowing stuff up. Or was...

  "Lance? You ok in there? I thought Keith was here with you"

 Interrupting his own rant, Shiro climbed up into what was supposed to be Keith's spot. Keith must have taken Kosmo with him, because Lance had no warning before Shiro was walking in like he owned the place. Gently Shiro worked the blankets back from Lance's face

"Hey, what's all this?"

Shiro's scent was wrong. He could tell he was upsetting the older man with his actions. Placing his human hand on Lance's shoulder, Shiro squeezed softly

"We're going out to celebrate my win. Curtis and I. We wanted to invite you and Keith to join us... but if he's not here, I guess that means I'm in charge of getting you up and ready"

"I want to stay here..."

"Ah! I knew you could speak. My plan worked. What did Keith do now?"

"Who said Keith did anything?"

"So my brother didn't?"

Lance snorted wetly, grimacing as he snotted down his face. Wiping his nose on his hand, he then twisted back to look at Shiro

"He did... but I guess when your husband's insane, there's only so much insanity you can take"

"You're not insane. Keith's... he was a bit spooked. Krolia had "the talk" with him. He was walking around looking pretty spacey after finding out that Kolivan is loud in bed"

There were a lot of things in life that Lance had no interest in. Kolivan... doing that... with Krolia... and being loud. No

"Eeeeew"

"He seemed spooked. I think she broke him. So I wouldn't try to take it too personally"

"How can I not...? He wouldn't believe me, Shiro. He told me it was in my head"

  Turning away again, Shiro decided it was perfectly ok to pluck him up into his lap like Keith, as the older man sat up

"None of that. Whatever happened, you have a right to whatever you feel. Your feelings are valid. Does this have something to do with the vent to your room is uncovered?"

"It's stupid"

"Nah. What's stupid is that this medal isn't even made of gold. Tell me what happened"

  Word vomiting on Shiro, Shiro let him talk until Lance ran out of words. He could almost hear Shiro thinking, before the man surprised him

"I think we should switch rooms"

Lance's heart leapt, his words slow as he tried not to let his happiness show

"You believe me?"

"I have no idea why they would make a move, but I would never forgive myself if something happened. Just like you said you couldn't forgive yourself if something happened to Keith"

"Keith told me it was a nightmare, but Shiro... it was real. Kosmo had the envelope in his mouth. I... I know Curtis wouldn't have left it, right?"

Shiro didn't seem offended by the questioning tone he finished in

"No. If they were photos of your date with Keith, that wasn't Curtis. And we don't have the technology in our room to have had the photos printed"

"So why now? My marriage is practically over Shiro. Keith didn't want to be here. I could smell it on him. I wish I hadn't even left the outpost..."

"That's enough of that. I'm sure he was only moody because of the baby talk with Krolia"

Wiping at his eyes, Lance then climbed off Shiro's lap because it was kind of weird, and he was feeling slightly better given that he had someone who actually believed him on his side. Settling down on the edge of the bed, he felt like he could finally fall back to sleep

"I know he was excited about them... but I can't help but feel like the it's finally registered how much of a responsibility it's all going to be"

"You've also had more experience with kids and a family in general than he has"

"I know. I'm sick of not connecting with him. Our date was amazing. The whole day. And I know finding a new way to live with each other again is going to be hard, but I'm scared he's going to turn around and tell me to have them aborted. I don't want you talk to him though. He didn't like it very much last time... I worked myself up trying to figure out how to tell him. I talked to myself in the shower, trying to figure it out. I tell him and he straight up tells me it wasn't real. Maybe you're right. Let's just go out. I can't promise I won't throw up or ruin another jacket... but I can promise you I'm sorry I wasn't there to see you win. I'm happy for you"

 Turning back to shoot Shiro a genuine smile, Shiro looked pretty damn proud of the medal around his neck. To Lance the arm and hand which was supposed to represent the contestant was angled as if it was trying to jerk the "1" off rather than simply be grasping it. Going out was the last thing he wanted, but why should he be stuck there being miserable while his husband was off being happy?

"You know you want toooo"

"I don't know if I want to... but I don't feel like being here right now. I don't want to ruin the night for you and Curtis"

"I'm going to guess you've been too stressed and upset to eat. Frankly, you look like shit"

Hugging himself, Lance shook his head. Now acutely aware he'd been wearing just his boxers since he'd come out the shower. He'd wanted nothing against his skin, and his wanted to drown in his husband's scent

"With lines like that, I have no idea how you landed Curtis"

Shiro's robotic hand made him jump as he patted Lance on the head. The range on that thing was ridiculous

"Trust me, some days I have no idea how I landed him either"

"Because you're... you. I don't know what to wear"

Preferably Shiro would let him out in his sweats and a loose shirt, instead his heart gave a weird sideways beat as Shiro replied

"Leave it to me"

Greeeeat. This was going to be a whole lot of work that his sleep deprived state wasn't looking forward to.

      *

Lance dutifully got dressed as Shiro swapped his and Keith's things with their own, including the bedding which brought a blush to Lance's cheeks. Shiro and Curtis had banged it out more than once, Lance wasn't so stupid to assume they hadn't. Not with those hickeys. Waylaid with a fit of nausea, Shiro took it all in his stride, rubbing his back as Lance gripped the bathroom counter. He hadn't been able to make it to the toilet, the feeling hitting out of nowhere when fighting with his buttons. He hadn't even been sure he'd needed to vomit and not worked himself up over seeing double with the buttons.

  Dressed in black, Lance knew he looked good. Other than the bags under his eyes, and the stumble in his step. They were meeting Curtis at one of the pop-up bars set up for the festival, the tent not particularly exciting in its self, but it was loud and sounded like fun. Everything he didn't want right now. He couldn't drink. He knew how unfun it was on the other side of the bar when things went to quiznak. Standing out the front, Curtis smile widely at them

"Lance! Did you have a good sleep?"

Shoving his hands deeper in his pockets, Lance mumbled

"Not really"

"Sorry, Babe. Lance isn't feeling that great, and I couldn't find Keith"

"Oh, Keith's already here with Kosmo and Krystaal. He was here when I showed up. I think he's been here for a while now"

  Krystaal? They couldn't sort their shit out, but it was ok for Keith to be off with his new best friend. Lance didn't even know what Krystaal looked like... Only that Keith really liked them, and he didn't really like Keith all that much at the moment. Keeping close to him, Shiro shepherded him to the tent. Keith and Krystaal impossible to miss. The pair seemed to be going shot for shot as people cheered for them. What struck Lance was the fact the Lotor looking love child was Krystaal. The Lotor looking love child that Keith had let him think was a female, was Keith's new best friend when he knew that Keith had found Lotor hot. Acxa was hot. She might be his sister's girlfriend, but she was also cute and completely adorable when she was around Veronica. Krystaal was best of both of them as far as looks came. He'd thought him a simple recruit... and a girl recruit at that. Watching as Keith slammed another shot glass down, Lance was filled with anger. He was fucking pregnant to this arsehole. He should have been the one drinking with Keith. Being stupid with Keith. Not watching his husband make a fool of himself over there with another man...

"Lance..."

"I'm going to hit him"

Curtis paled, Shiro stepping between Lance and Keith

"Lance"

"Don't!"

"I know you're upset..."

"He's drinking with the guy he..."

"Lance, lets go somewhere else..."

"Why does he get to stay there and drink while I'm fucking pr..."

Shiro clamped his hand over Lance's mouth to keep him from blurring out his secret

"I know you're preoccupied. Let's just go get a drink somewhere else"

Behind Shiro, the crowd let out a collective gasp. Pushing past Shiro, Krystaal was swaying in his seat. Both he and Keith were fucking light weights. There was maybe 8 empty shot glasses in front of each of them

"Lance!"

  Hearing his name yelled by Shiro, Keith's head shot up

"Lance!"

Drunk enough to abandon their game midway, Keith narrowly avoided face planting as he caught his foot on the table leg. Embarrassed, Lance turned away

"No. No. No. Come back, baby! I love you"

Prevented from leaving by Curtis, who was holding onto Shiro's robotic arm as he stood beside his boyfriend, Keith nearly fell on him as he reached him

"Everyone! This is my husband, Lance!"

His name was cheered. Lance brushed off his husband. He felt gross. He felt gross from all the scents, and the stink of Keith's alcohol drenched breath. He didn't appreciate Keith calling his name like that, even though he should be with how Keith was claiming him as his in front of everyone. Octopusing himself to Lance's back, Lance shuddered as he reacted instinctively, shoving Keith off and darting to the safety of Curtis and Shiro

"Aw, what's wrong, baby?"

"You're drunk"

Keith frowned and tilted his head

"You're sober. You should come have a drink with Krystaal and I. He's a lot like you. You two are like peas in a pod... get it? Cause like peas grow in a pod"

Keith laughed at his own stupid drunkeness. A cold shiver ran up Lance's spine as if someone had poured a bucket of icy water all over him. Didn't Keith think that he'd loved to be able to have a drink? That he wouldn't love to be able to kick back and drink until his mind went pleasantly numb. Lance's right hand went down to his thigh, he was itching to be able to inject himself. To get fucking high and escape reality. Keith left him to get drunk with Krystaal. He'd climbed out of their bed to go drinking with another man. A man whose skills he'd bragged about more than once. A man who was probably completely normal down there. Not some kind of freak with puffy tits and two babies on board. His breathing was starting to grow uneven. Why was it that every time he thought things might finally look up, someone out there had to pull the fucking rug out from beneath his feet?

"Curtis, why don't you take Lance back to our room. I'm going to deal with Keith"

"Don't bother. He's made his choice"

  Fleeing the tent with his face burning, tears rolled down his face as Curtis jogged to catch up to him. Wrapping his arm around his shoulders, Lance shrugged Curtis off with a half hearted apology. He didn't want people pitying him. He didn't want their sympathy. What he did want was their understanding, and for them to understand he'd stood well enough on his own two feet for phoebs. He'd been having the same highs and lows and phoebs now. The only thing that had changed was now he was knocked up. Running after him, Keith half tackled him. Lance spinning and slipping out the hold as fear gripped him tighter

"Hey! Wait up!"

Coming running after Keith, Shiro grabbed him around the waist and hoisted him up onto his shoulder

"Put me down!"

"That's enough!"

Roaring at Keith, Lance shied away from the enraged Shiro with a whimper. Realising he'd scared him, Shiro went to reach towards him only for Lance to drop to his knees as he clutched at his chest. Squatting down, Curtis's voice reached his ears from a distance much greater than the few centimetres away he was

"'Tani, you take Keith. Put him to bed. By the time you reach the palace, all those shots would have hit him. I'll take Lance back to our room"

"We swapped rooms with them, I'll explain later"

As if Lance couldn't feel any guiltier for ruining Shiro's celebration party. He'd thought he'd just resume his previous role as the unneeded extra wheel, not the one coming in and crashing the night. Gifting his friends with about as much joy as Zarkon crashing the evening

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry... Lo siento..."

"No has hecho nada malo"

Lance flinched at his native tongue coming from Curtis. His pronounciation sounded like it'd gone through a cheese grater in the process. From his knees, Lance fell back onto his arse as Keith angrily lashed out

"For fuck's sake, Shiro. Put me down. You're embarrassing me"

"You're embarrassing yourself"

  He was trying hard to bring himself back under control. He was trying to breathe like he was supposed, repeating Shiro's mantra as he did. Keith was drunk. He needed to be patient with drunk Keith. Keith had looked after drunk Lance more than once. Placing his hands on his upper arms, Curtis rubbed them softly with his loosened grip. The man's voice was soft yet firm, Lance finding his gaze rising in order to seek Curtis's face out

"Don't focus on them. Focus on me. You're going to be ok..."

"Shiro! Let me the fuck gooooooo"

Sighing, Curtis shook his head

"Get him out of here"

Moving past them, Keith glared down at the pair of them

"Hey! Oi! That's my husband! He's mine! You can't have him! Lance! Lance!"

  Reaching out for him, Keith's outstretched hand was soon out of the corner of his vision. Without the object his anger and misery, he was able to draw a deeper breath. He still very much wanted to punch Keith. Smiling softly, Curtis patiently waited for him to be able to draw a regularish breath

"Up for moving?"

Nodding, Lance wanted to get out of the public eye

"Thanks... I'm ok now"

"You're not ok, and you don't have to be. This is nearly as bad as the time Shiro got drunk at this diplomatic function. We weren't even dating, and he went around scaring every guy in sight off. He nearly ruined the whole peace treaty, then didn't remember a damn thing the following morning. He couldn't work out why none of the men wanted to talk to him"

Lance blinked away the tears in his eyes

"That happened?"

"It sure did. There was this other time when he nearly slept walked out of our quarters when he was naked. Honestly, sometimes I wonder how he managed to keep you all in line"

"Because he had to... he couldn't let himself be himself... I'm really glad he has you..."

Starting to cry at the thought of Shiro having someone who loved him so deeply, Lance felt the bitter acrid taste of jealousy clogging up his throat

"Please don't cry. I don't know what to do or say"

"I'm really happy Shiro has you!"

Wailing at poor Curtis, Curtis laughed

"I'm really happy I have him too. Let's get you back to bed. Keith said you had a late night"

With very little filter left between his brain and his tongue, Lance nodded

"I was throwing up all night... I was hungry but now I feel sick all over again"

"Ouch. That doesn't sound like fun. Do you mind if I help you up?"

Lance shook his head, Curtis getting what he meant as he helped him stand

"At least you know Keith loves you. He not only told everyone you were his husband, and announced he loved you, but he tried to scare me off too"

Half falling into Curtis, Curtis patiently waited until Lance found his feet under him. Clenching and unclenching his fingers, the compulsion to inject was growing again

"I thought falling in love would be a good thing... but all it does is fill you with anxiety... he left me to go drinking with another man... and I don't think I'm ok with that"

"You don't have to be ok with it. Try talking to him when he's sobered up"

Between the buzzing in his head, and the buzzing in his veins, it was a struggled to stay normal and grounded

"I don't know what to say anymore"

"It's up to you, Lance. You run a bar, and in that respect you have a better grasp on things than I do. If he doesn't seem to remember, you don't have to push the issue if you don't want to. It's not like he dacked himself or was making out with anyone"

"But what if we hadn't interrupted? I think... I think Keith has a crush on Krystaal"

  Curtis shook his head with a deliberate slowness... and maybe because his world was a weird mess, he felt like something was wrong with that shake. Keith always talked about Krystaal... always... and he was always messaging him when he was out at the outpost

"If he had a crush on him, he wouldn't have rushed to you. He wouldn't have made a scene or told me to leave you alone. You're like Shiro. You think far too much. Just try... following how your heart feels"

Lance didn't have a reply for that. He didn't know what his heart felt other than pain... He adored Keith, but something had happened when his husband was talking with Krolia, and now he felt unwanted. Unwanted and unnatural... and burden to Curtis and Shiro. This was Shiro's night to bask in his win. Wiping at his wet face, he sniffled up his pathetic side. Shiro had been looking forward to this. He didn't want to keep thinking about Keith

"Curtis... Can we still do something for Shiro?"

Curtis shook his head, the man was probably mentally stressing over his condition

"I think the best thing you can do now is get some rest while Keith sleeps it off. Shiro won't mind"

"But I mind!..."

Lance cringed at his own yelling. His head, heart, and nerves didn't appreciate the loud noises. Dropping his voice to something more acceptable, Lance hoped he was getting his words across. His face and mouth felt numb, but he wasn't about to just shut up without making himself understood

"... I mean. I want to do something. He was excited... I didn't even get down there to cheer him on. If it's was me... he would have"

"Lance, you wanting to do something for him is what will make him happy"

"That's not the point. Please Curtis. Take my chip card. Get some Crumsano Regent from the pub tent, it's a beer from our my region way. It's really good beer... and pizza? There has to be some kind of place around here that sells pizza"

Gushing at Curtis, Lance fumbled his wallet out. He wasn't sure why Shiro had made him take his wallet? Now he was happy he had. Kind of happy? Relieved? No. That wasn't the word either. His actions were a drop in the ocean compared to what they'd done for him...

"You don't need to pay, I've got this"

He wanted to be on an even field with Shiro. He'd always wanted to be on an even field with Keith and Shiro. He didn't want Curtis thinking him lacking

"Curtis, I've got the GAC. I've got the GAC to hire a full staff, own an outpost and have a part share in a hotel... Let me do this"

"We'll go halves for Shiro"

"Deal... Now go. I'll wait here..."

"Are you sure? I don't mind walking you back to the palace"

Trying his best to channel sass, Lance failed

"Yes, mum. Or are you "Space Dad 2"?"

"Shiro is the "Space Dad". I didn't tell you this, but he loves that you all think of him that way. I'm happy being Curtis"

"You lost that name the day you started dating Shiro. Space Uncle's Shiro and Curtis... yeah, I like that one"

"I don't know if I do... "Space Uncle Shiro" shortens to "SUS" and "Space Uncle Curtis" shortens to "SUC"... Sus and Suc..."

"At least I didn't call you "Friendly Uncle Curtis"..."

Curtis gave a groan

"I don't know how Shiro retained his sanity between the 5 of you"

"There was seven. 10 if you counted the mice. 11 with Kaltenecker... when you're the bottom of the totem pole, you notice these things... does Kuron count? He had a thing or two to say about us. Don't even get me started on how moody the Lion's could be"

"Don't be like that. Without you, Earth would have been destroyed. Wait here and I'll be right back"

    Curtis had recorded the whole arm wrestling competition. Shiro had left Keith to sleep it off in the bathtub, while they kicked back eating pizza and watching Shiro's glorious win. "Watching" wasn't the right word though. Lance was dozing against Shiro's shoulder as Curtis and Shiro enthused over every loss and win leading up to his victory. Shiro had tried to convince him to lay down and get some sleep, but Lance really wanted to watch Shiro's win. Pizza and beer had gone over so well. Shiro wouldn't let him have any beer, making him drink water like a kid, but Shiro was excited for a "guys" night. Lance was pretty sure he'd been momentarily forgotten when they arrived back at the bedroom. The pizza boxes and beer had nearly ended up in the floor as Shiro kissed Curtis... enthusiastically. It was definitely not a child friendly kiss... Lance nearly threw up from the intensity and he was only a bystander.

  Feeling Lance's head sliding down his arm again, Shiro laughed softly as he handed his holopad over to Curtis

"'m watching that"

Slurring out the words sleepily, Lance hadn't been watching anything other than the inside of his eyelids for the past 10 doboshes. That didn't stop him from protesting

"The match finished, and spoiler alert, I won. It's time for you to get some sleep"

"'m fine"

"It's time for Little Lance's to go night night. Do you want to sleep here tonight? Or next door? Or in the bath with Keith?"

He was probably going to have nightmares, so wanted to go sleep alone... His mouth stating so without him realising. Following up with that he should go back to his own room so Shiro and Curtis could bone. Rambling, Shiro suppressed his laughter as he helped Lance off the bed. Curtis was insisting that Lance could stay, but Lance didn't want to sleep next to two people having sex. Carried out the door and into what had been Shiro's room, Shiro fussed over him as he helped him get out of his jeans and boots. His buttons becoming a causality of war as they snapped off his shirt. If Shiro hadn't been there, Lance would have fallen asleep face down with his arse in the air because blankets were much too complicated in his current state. Tucked in, Shiro called Curtis on his comms, leaving it on like one would a baby monitor before leaving Lance to settle. The bed felt horribly big without Keith and Kosmo, yet horribly small with the soft toys they'd won sitting along the far side. Despite how tired he was, each time he started to doze off, Lance would snap awake only for the cycle to begin it again. In the end, it took vargas to finally drift off for the night, terribly lonely and feeling terribly small.