#i read on the subway. at work. before bed. in the morning after waking up

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Tell me more about this book blanket? I'm Fascinated

Omg yay!! Okay so I'm knitting two rows per book that I finish in 2024, and each book rows will be a different color based on the genre it is

So here are the books I've read so far. Everything that's in bold is what I've knitted, and the last book on the list is what I'm currently reading but haven't finished yet. So I've knitted everything before Fifty Feet Down, and read everything up to Annie on My Mind, but I'm currently like thirty percent through it.

I'm choosing colors as I finish genres, and I'm trying to do it only with yarn I have (cuz yarn is expensive and I have a lot of yarn. The reason I have a lot of yarn suitable for a blanket is because I took all of this yarn from a blanket I started knitting four years ago and never finished. Like I finished frogging that blanket yesterday and made it into cakes on my new yarn winder!!) I didn't really try to make the colors fit the genres. I just own a lot of navy yarn and knew I'd read a lot of LGBTQ books, and I own a lot of black and know I'll read a lot of horror books. Then for dystopian I just chose a yarn color that I had available, same with mystery.

Here's how it's going so far! You can see the four navy rows for the two LGBTQ books i read, the two purple for the one dystopian book (which is also very good, I highly recommend Debate Kids at the End of the World and that author in general, Alex Nonymous) and then a chunk of black because I read four I. S. Belle books in a row (you can also see all of the ends I didn't weave in, which I'm going to hate myself for when I finish the blanket)

"But Austyn, what if the book is more than one genre?" I'm so glad you asked! Most of these books could be considered more than one genre. Fifty Feet Down is a mystery, but also a romance. So I just consider what genre I believe is more integral to the story, if that makes sense. Fifty Feet Down could be relatively the same if the main characters were just friends, but the story would be vastly different if it wasn't a mystery. Therefore, it gets the mystery color instead of romance. Same with all of the I. S. Belle books. There's romance in them, but if you took out the romance it would still be pretty similar, but if you took out the horror it would be an incredibly different story.

So that's my 2024 book blanket!

[being-addie]

Morning Routines

We're all looking at those Instagram influencers who somehow manage to wake up at 5 am, do meditation, journal, do a 15-step Korean skincare routine, and go to the gym. And then they make a green smoothie and avocado toast, get dressed in a Chanel outfit and then sit at their fancy desk with a vanilla latte and a croissant.

This is not realistic. You probably already know that, but it likely won't stop you from trying to change your routine bit by bit to look a little like theirs. That didn't stop me, at least.

But now I've come to realise that no matter how much I try, I'll never be able to have a routine like the ones I see online. Because it doesn't exist. It's all curated for aesthetic appeal and generates a sense of false productivity in the watcher's brain. We feel motivated looking at those videos and never get around to changing our own life because we're too busy living vicariously through our phones.

Here's some things you should add to your morning routine, not to be fancy, but to feel better. This is coming from someone who's tried the unrealistic routines, and I now incorporate all of these into my routine. You can skip or add things according to your schedule.

S-T-R-E-T-C-H: Do your body a favour and loosen up your muscles. Nothing better than having a good stretch that wakes your body up.

Drink water: Before you put anything in your system, drink water. Not coffee, not tea. Plain warm water. And I don't mean lemon water. Some people might not agree, but lemon water strips your teeth of the enamel. It also is acidic, so all that bullshit they talk about it being "alkaline and pH balancing" is nonsense. Warm water is the way to go.

Make your bed: A clean bed should be the first thing you do after you wake up. At the end of the day, you'll thank yourself because it will be clean, and fresh and you can fall into bed immediately.

Hygiene: Wash your face to get rid of crusty eyes and sleep. Do a basic skincare routine (cleanser, moisturizer) so you'll feel fresher. Brush your teeth and hair.

Move your body: It doesn't matter what you do, even if it's for 15 minutes. Go for a walk, do a Zumba workout, or squeeze in a HIIT session. You can find lots of tutorials on YouTube (Caroline Girvan, growingannanas, Chloe Ting). Either way, working out will help you feel more motivated and happier. It's the endorphins.

Clean yourself: Set aside some time for showering, slathering on lotion, and doing your (real) skincare and makeup routine. Pick an outfit that makes you feel good about yourself.

Eat something: ALWAYS make some food. Your body has been famished for hours on end, give it some fuel. Make a healthy breakfast, or prep one the night before. If you don't get very hungry in the mornings, have a banana, and pack a mid-morning snack beforehand so you don't reach for chips.

Do 3 things: Make a to-do list of everything you need to do today. Don't overwhelm yourself. Then, knock off 3 easy tasks from the list that you can do quickly. You'll be filled with a sense of motivation, and it'll be easier for you to complete your list. It can be chores, it could be some assigned reading. Just get it done.

Gratitude or prayer: You don't need to sit for 15 minutes to practice gratitude. You can think of things your thankful for on the way to school or work or practice deep breathing/say a small prayer on the subway or bus. You don't HAVE to do it, but it definitely makes you realise how much you have in life and appreciate it more.

Kindness: Start your day with kindness. Compliment your barista, smile at the old lady on the street, pet the stray cat. There's so much love in the world, and you have so much love inside you, and it's beautiful to be a part of it.

No longer will I be stuck in a rut. I cannot be confined to being a bitter, unhealthy person when I know there's a smiling, healthy, happy version of me in the future. Deep breaths. You'll get there babe.

<3

[bangaveragewhitewine]

Pinch Me

After your first date with a familiar face from home, waking up next to Steve feels like something out of a dream. 

or

This is a follow on from Clean Slate but can be read as standalone fic. 

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings/Content: Both you and Steve are in your late-twenties and were in school together; you met again on a blind date almost ten years later. This is an 18+ fic; oral (reader receiving), penetrative sex. Spoiler but use of ‘good girl’ in a sexy content. Steve Harrington being a smooth mf comes with it's own warning.

I have tried to leave physical descriptions as neutral and inclusive as possible! Some mentions of anxiety and insecurity. Plenty of kissing to make up for that! 

Author’s Note: Clean Slate was intended to be a one off fic but here we are! This is my first attempt at smut in a fic, so hopefully it’s not horrendous! Thank you for reading, enjoy!

Thank you to my lovely @specialagentmonkey for beta reading for me💖

Once again, this is an 18+ fic. Please do not do any AI fuckery with my work or repost on other sites.

(divider by me)

Ever since you were little, your bed had been one of your favourite places. Soft sheets, books on the bedside table and a perfectly curated stack of pillows all topped off with the quilt you had made with your grandma before her arthritis got too bad. 

In your mom’s photo albums there was more than one snapshot of you as a sleepy toddler with a wild bed head peeking up from your pillow on Christmas morning. Another few of you reading Nancy Drew in a pillow nest with a gap toothed smile. 

By now, you had made your own little nest out in the big bad world now; a surprisingly roomy studio with big windows and noisy neighbours on one side. You had bought new sheets and a duvet printed with dusty pink roses on porcelain white cotton, curated a new stack of pillows and added too many decorative cushions on top of the same quilt that had made the move with you to Indianapolis and on to Chicago. There were still books on your bedside,  a little dish for your jewellery to sit in while you slept, and an accumulation of lip balms, pillow mist and a candle or two to set the mood. 

After long shifts and bad dates, your bed was still your haven. When you were particularly anxious, you could still hear the shrill of your old alarm blaring in your ears; the sound of that clock that had dragged you from sweet dreams in your beloved bed on chilly winter mornings. Some mornings, as you rode the subway to work, you swore you could hear your bed’s own siren song calling you to get off at the next stop, come home to read and nap the day away. 

The sanctuary was for you alone, save for an occasional sleepover with your best friend Annie. Your dates were never invited to stay and make themselves comfortable. But this morning, waking up with Steve Harrington in your bed? That was new. 

It was safe to say that your blind date went well. Really well. 

You had resolutely avoided talking about school, only mentioning people each other might have remembered in the context of a story about your lives outside Hawkins. Steve was still in touch with a lot of people from home. You recognised some of their names; Robin who grew up a street away from you, Eddie Munson who you knew from art class and the occasional house party in your youth, even Nancy Wheeler. The way he lit up with so much fondness for ‘his kids’ who weren’t kids anymore made your face ache from smiling.

And Steve had listened, wanted to hear how you had liked Indianapolis for college (he had spent some time there too before making the move to Chicago with Robin after Eddie had sussed the place out and found an apartment near his own for them that they still shared). He had asked about your job, your life in the city, and took a real interest in you. 

His attention had stayed on you, never straying to see who else was around or looking for an escape route. His honeyed gaze had stayed focused, watching how you used your hands when you spoke and dipped occasionally to look at your lips. Steve’s hand had stayed close by when his fingers weren’t outright intertwined with yours. He did this thing with his thumb, stroking it across the bone of your wrist, and a few times he had squeezed your hand while you spoke as if to say ‘go on, I’m listening’ - it was so centering for your often anxious mind.

You had a few more drinks, picked a few songs on the jukebox, kept talking and talking until you were sitting close enough to hear Steve’s stomach growl, making his cheeks flush pink. 

“I know a pizza spot close by if you’re hungry?” you suggested. 

“DiFontaines?” Steve smiled a little, nodding at your suggestion. “Yeah I love it. Let’s go.”

Neither of you wanted to end the night yet, say goodbye. So you didn’t. Instead you headed hand in hand into the warm night air, nicely buzzed and in search of hot pizza and crispy cold sodas. 

The sun had dipped in the sky, taking the worst of the heat with it, but the night stayed humid and sticky. Despite the warmth, Steve held your hand and between stories, as you walked down the next block, he lifted his arm to twirl you when you passed a bar blaring Achy Breaky Heart onto the street; Billy Ray’s crooning was eclipsed by your laughter. 

“You’re such a dork,” you giggled, pushing him gently before Steve quickly hugged you against his side again. Never had you felt so comfortable on a first date - but this wasn’t just any blind first date. 

“Dork?! You been talkin’ to Robin?” Steve smiled down at you, sparking heat in your belly. 

“Guess your reputation precedes you, Harrington.” With a burst of bravery, owing it to your younger self, you bounced up on your toes to peck his cheek before taking off a few steps ahead, turning to grin back at him as he jogged to catch up before you swerved into the pizza place. 

You joined the line of late night pizza lovers and Steve had slipped an arm around you, leaned his chin on your head as your heart pounded hard. “So, what’re we getting?” he asked.

The familiarity of it all made you feel fuzzy around the edges, his thumb stroking your shoulder, the heat of him pressed against your side. 

“It’s probably sacrilegious but the New York style slice, veggie or… artichoke.” Feeling brave again you cover his hand with yours and squeezed. “You?”

“Okay so we’re both sinners then.” He hummed, considering his options. “You’re vegetarian right?”

“Yeah, I try to be.” You liked how he had remembered a tiny detail from a story told hours ago.

“Okay. Four cheese then.”

“You sure?” Your interest piqued. 

“Yeah, ‘course. You might not want a goodnight kiss if I have pepperoni breath.”

You swear your jaw dropped as Steve schooled his smile, watching the group of tipsy tourists ahead of you order their slices before his eyes darted back to you. 

Steve was more timid, his voice quieter as he filled the silence between you when you had been too stunned to answer. “It’s also totally fine if you don’t want to kiss me, sweetheart. I know I can lay it on ki-“ 

Instead you rocked up to close the gap between you, ignoring the pinch of your sandals to lay a kiss onto his lips. Steve was quick to cup your cheek, keeping you there to kiss you back just as sweetly. 

His nose has nudged against yours before he let you go, gazing into each other’s eyes until your attention was pulled to ‘order or get out’. His arm had stayed around you as you placed your orders, splitting a third classic deep dish slice between you so you wouldn't be run out of town with torches and pitchforks. 

Full of pizza and soda and bravery, you had taken Steve’s hand again and strolled through the sticky Chicago night, steering him toward your apartment with the guise of proving that the same pink scrunchie you wore in high school was in fact on your bedside table. You both knew what you were really suggesting. 

Part of you niggled away, expecting him to make a polite excuse to head home instead. But Steve only had eyes for you and sealed the deal with another kiss. You lost yourselves in each other, feeling younger together, and made out with Steve’s back against the shutters of somewhere long closed for the night as he squeezed your hips and you toyed with the ends of his hair. It was with regret that he had to tear himself away from your lips to hail a cab for you both, where you did your best to behave on the way to your apartment.

As you lay in bed that next morning, watching how Steve’s chest rose and fell with breath, how soft he looked in sleep, you felt warm and happy. His golden glow was just as dazzling in the morning light.  

Your night together had been unrushed. Steve hadn’t just hit it and quit it with you. No, instead you had kissed and kissed, making out and letting your hands roam like two teenagers except there was no hurry; no seven minute deadline or someone pounding on a guest room door to see if it was occupied. The rumours in school had been true; Steve Harrington was an amazing kisser. You had listened to a friend of a friend rave about his soft lips after a lucky spin the bottle in junior year; now you had tasted him for yourself, you understood why she had brought it up so much. But Steve was in your bed now, not hers, you thought smugly. 

On the way from the couch to your bed, he had unzipped your dress and you made sure his powdery blue shirt wouldn’t be too creased in the morning, draping it over the back of a chair instead of leaving it balled up on the ground. 

Steve had made sure you knew how beautiful he thought you were, kissed you everywhere before taking his time with you and spent an age between your legs as he worked you open for him. Lying there the next morning, you could feel your face heat up when you remembered how his touch set you on fire. The pleasant all over ache weighed you down into your mattress. 

With a messy bed-head, Steve woke a little after you and saw you smiling dreamily to yourself. He reached out to pull you closer, tucking his face into your neck. 

“Mornin’.” His voice was gravelly and deep. 

“Morning.” You brush his hair back gently and dot a kiss to his forehead before stroking your fingers over his shoulders soothingly, dragging them down his arm.  

“S’nice,” he said, lips moving against your neck before he pressed a few kisses there. 

Lying face to face on your pillow, your fingers played with the fine gold chain that settled around his throat, dipping lower into the thick hair on his chest. 

“I had a really good time last night.” Steve’s fingers walk up your arm, before twirling your hair around one carefully. 

When you look up at him, he’s got this little smile on his face. He inches closer, letting his gaze drop to your own smiling mouth before you share a slow morning kiss. 

“Me too,” you whisper, settling your hand on the side of his neck before returning his kiss again. Your fingers skate across and behind the lobe of his ear, the underside of his jaw and the shade of stubble there. 

With his large soft hands, he drags you closer still, pressing you right up against him. The t-shirt you had pulled on after the sweat on your body had started to cool last night was rucked up over your hip as Steve’s thumb strokes the dip there. 

You sigh into his mouth, feeling warm all over despite the chill of your box fan to cool the room down. This morning you're warmed by the heat and glow that radiates from Steve Harrington, hotter than the sun itself. 

“You’re really beautiful,” he murmurs against your lips, shifting his weight so you’re on your back again with one of his thighs slotted between yours. Steve brushes your hair back, fanning it out over the pillow before dipping down to kiss you again. He leaves you breathless before his lips trail lower to your jaw and neck. 

It’s an intimacy you hadn’t had with anyone in a long time, feeling safe enough with Steve to let yourself be loved on like this. You will yourself to be present with him, bask in his glow as it warms you, but barbs of anxiety have crept in to distract you.

Last night was amazing, slow and syrupy and tender. If that had been the last time you ever saw Steve Harrington you could have probably died happy - happier than before anyway. But instead he stayed, and as he kisses you again (morning breath ignored and forgotten). Steve didn’t care that you had faded into the background of your shared high school halls, he had loved how you had the bravery to break out of Hawkins and be you now. 

Steve notices you tensing up and peels himself back, thumbing your cheek again as he says your name. “Do you want me to stop?” he asks, concern in his eyes. It makes your heart ache. 

You shake your head and cover the hand on your cheek. “No. Never.” You pull him to you again and relish the weight of him on top, your hands over his shoulders. “I’m getting in my head. You’re straight out of a dream, Steve. I feel like asking you to pinch me.”

You feel a little embarrassed about being quite so honest with him like this, but he oozes a magnetism and calmness that makes you want to tell him everything. But you don’t want to scare him away, be left waiting for another call that’s not coming, or hear him say ‘that was fun but I’m not looking for anything serious right now’. 

He smiles and leans his weight on one strong arm so he’s not totally crushing you. “I can, if you want. But I promise I’m real. And I’m just some guy.” 

You laugh. “Some guy? Nah Steve, I think you might be some sort of apparition. Or like, a Greek god.” You squeeze his bicep for emphasis. “Definitely dreaming.”

Steve rolls his eyes, playful, and pinches your cheek lightly. “See? Silly.” He presses a kiss to where he pinched before going in for another on your smiling mouth. Steve was not shy or stingy with his kisses, you had learned. You liked that a lot. 

“I think you’re pretty amazing, y’know. If you’re not sick of me yet, would you wanna go for breakfast with me?” Steve kneels up between your thighs, the sheets pooling around his hips. Your eyes go right to the white Calvin’s pulled tight over the thickness of him. Your eyes rake up over his body until you’re caught staring, ogling, and Steve smiles when you pull a pillow over your face. You certainly hadn’t been so shy last night; he laughs and lifts it away to gaze down at you, hoping you will say yes. 

“C’mere. Then you can take me for breakfast.” You coax him back down, hooking one leg over his hip. “Prove to me again that you’re not just in my imagination?”

Steve grins and rolls himself down over you. “You been imagining me like this? Scandalous,” he teases before resuming his kisses from earlier, which you are eager to return. Your bodies move together, hips tilting toward each other seeking out that pressure that makes your tummy sizzle. As Steve’s hands slip under your sized-up sleep shirt again, your own dips down to cup him through his underwear. His breath hitches, eyes fluttering shut. 

“Baby…” 

Baby. 

You smile and repeat the movement firmer this time before beginning to coax him to hardness, breaking your hold on him only to help him remove your tshirt. It’s lost to the floor along with Steve’s briefs. His breath is hot against your mouth as your bodies press together. The feeling of Steve’s hands on your breasts draws out a whine that’s swallowed by another kiss; his hands are so big and they feel like they are everywhere, like Steve is everywhere. His mouth and hands trail lower, spreading you out for him on your dusty rose bedsheets. He cups you there, thumb swiping in a delicious rhythm that has you gasping against his shoulder. 

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, kissing the tops of your breasts. “Let me hear those pretty noises again, baby. Please?” 

You whimper as his fingers ease you open, so gentle like the polite ‘please’. Steve had proven he was a talker already last night, his words making you feel hot all over as he had pushed so carefully inside, turning tipsy giggles into needy gasps. You felt the same heat engulf you now as he lay wet kisses to your tummy, your hips, pausing only so that he could lie comfortably between your thighs after shouldering his way between them. 

He’s looking up at you, his cheek against the meat of your thigh. Lips curve into a smile when you meet his gaze, and he closes his eyes when you stroke his hair back. One of his hands takes yours and rests together on your belly as he dips to kiss you where you need him, humming against you when you gasp his name. 

Your eyes drop closed, fireworks bursting behind them as he makes you feel so good. The once or twice any other man had done this was lacklustre in skill and enthusiasm, which Steve possessed in every cell of his being. When you chance looking at him you spot his hips shifting against the mattress, chasing relief for his own ache which makes you moan louder. His whispered “good girl” sends your eyes rolling back into your skull. 

Steve brings you to your peak quicker than anyone ever had before. Mindful that you might be a little tender from the night before as he presses one long and thick finger inside before a second joins it a few moments later, gentle but with a purpose of making you forget your own name. His shoulder presses firm against your thigh, spreading you wider as his fingers pump steadily, keeping the pace and press against the spot inside you that makes you feel fit to explode. 

You squeeze his arm while your capacity for coherent speech vanishes, focusing only on the swirl and suck of his mouth and the crook and curl of his fingers. It’s so sudden, and you swear you’ve never made a noise so loud as you moan for him, trembling all over. He whispers his praise against your thigh before bringing his mouth back to where you’re weeping for him and doesn’t stop until your thighs are crushing his ears, muffling your voice. 

Chest heaving, you feel him move up to check on you. He brings you close, holding you as you glow with him and presses feathery kisses to your hairline. “You still with me? Not still dreaming about me?” 

“Mm, think I died,” you manage, peeking up at him with teary eyes. Another tender kiss to the dopey smile on your lips. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me, sweetheart.” 

His grin is deservedly cocky, earning himself the warm grasp of your hand around his length. The prettiest frown graces his face as you squeeze and slowly pump your hand, your lips moving to his neck. 

Steve’s gaze moves from your face, dragging down your body to where your hand holds him. His size makes your hand look small and you feel the kick of his arousal on your palm. You manage to swing one wobbly leg over him, sitting on the breadth of his thighs with new confidence as he holds you steady. 

You lean across him, earning kisses to your chest as you fish for a condom to rip open and roll on to him before lowering yourself down into his lap. 

Sinking your teeth into the fat of your lower lip at the stretch of him, Steve huffs out a breathy swear against your chest. His hands settle on your hip and thigh, grounding and never rushing as you breathe into the feeling of him inside you before beginning to move. 

“Fuck,” he murmurs, watching you in awe. “So pretty f’me.”

That spurs you on, chasing the tingle deep in your abdomen. Your fingers lace with Steve’s on your thigh, the other hand braced against the wall behind his shoulder. 

His head leans back by your hand, turning to kiss your wrist as you move in his lap. You curl your arm around him, bringing each other close as his hips hitch up to meet you. 

“So good, baby,” he murmurs, kissing you again as his breath comes quicker now. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty.”

Gasping his name, you hold him tight to you as you move together. He can’t take his eyes off of you, “Good girl, so gorgeous.” 

Messy kisses broken by gasps and Steve’s praise are traded back and forth. His hands feel huge where they hold you at your waist. 

The cord of pleasure deep in your pelvis winds tighter. Steve’s jaw twitches as he holds on to you, and you kiss the tense muscle before whispering, “You make me feel so good.” The sound he makes is almost a whimper and he squeezes the meat of your ass. Your hips continue their rise and roll, you feel like every cell of your body is aflame. 

Steve watches you, praising words fanning the fire low in your belly. The burn in your thighs makes you pause and he takes the chance to kiss you stupid again. 

“Feel good? Yeah?” When you nod, feeling spaced out, he pecks your swollen lips and whispers, “Let me take care of you, sweetheart.” You wonder if he lets anyone take care of him, return his generosity and affections. 

He is so gentle as he holds you to his chest and slouches lower on the bed. You close your eyes at the feeling of being held like this, cheek to his broad shoulder. His feet are flat and firm on the bed and the experimental thrust up into you makes you sigh his name. Steve sweeps your hair to one side so that he can kiss your neck again, checking in with you before continuing. 

His name echoes on your bedroom walls as he grazes the elusive spot inside of you; the way you press right against his pelvis gives a rub of friction that makes lightning zing through your limbs. “That’s it. Huh? Right there?” His voice is tight as he drives up into you again, faster now with the new angle. 

You can hardly summon the sense to make a sentence, babbling now with how good he’s making you feel, the occasional broken curse or plea. After last night and this morning, the neighbours won’t be happy or forget Steve’s name anytime soon - not that you give a fuck. 

You kiss him again, though now you’re both so far gone it’s messy and needy, hot breaths against each other’s cheeks. The lick of his tongue against yours makes you shiver. You feel ready to burst, pleasure building as his hips drive up hard into you

With the feeling of him so deep inside of you, you fall over the edge again. The feeling of your orgasm, clenching and fluttering and soaking, drags him with you, groaning against your neck when his hips slam and stutter still. His arms are tight around you, both heaving deep breaths together. 

Steve eases you both down onto your sides, tangled together. You feel dazed and heavy but the stroke of Steve’s fingers on your hip, his hot breath on your collarbone grounds you until the sounds of Chicago on a Saturday morning remind you that this wasn’t a dream. 

“You okay? That.. Jesus…” Steve’s voice is breathy, but you hear his smile. 

“Yeah. I’m…amazing.”

“Yeah, you are.” 

There’s comfortable silence as you both come back to earth. 

After a few moments Steve dots kisses to your cheeks, forehead and nose before he eases out of you to bin the full condom. Soon you’re back in bed with him, held safe in his arms. His cheeks are pink and you want to squeeze them. 

“You’re so gorgeous, Steve.” Your fingers brush over the moles dotted along his cheekbone, and he catches your hand to kiss your fingers sweetly in distraction. “Hey. Look at me, Harrington.”

“Back to Harrington?” he teases, looking into your eyes with faux intensity to make you giggle. “M’lookin’.”

“Steve. Steven.” You match his teasing with pretend-seriousness.

“Not Steven. Please, baby.” His mouth turns down, exaggerating his unhappiness with you, but the stroke of his fingers on your hip say otherwise.

“Ms O’Donnell called you Steven.”

“Please don’t bring O’Donnell up while my dick is still out.”

You both dissolve into giggles, pressing your face against the chain on his chest. “Shut up, she had that much of an effect on you?! Calling you Steven gets you all worked up? Okay perv, good to know.”

“You’re sick in the head.” His voice is shaky with laughter against your hair. “S’a good thing you’re cute.”

“Mhm. Definitely a sicko. Two cute sickos.” You take his face in your hands again. “You’re a great date Steve Harrington.”

He smiles, but it falls a little - you just about catch it. It makes your heart hurt. Your inability to just say that you don’t want this to be a one time thing makes you want to pull your own hair out. 

“I do my best. I had so much fun with you. I’m just kinda… sick of first dates though. Yknow?” 

“I do know. But that’s not how last night felt.” 

There’s a flash of recognition in his eyes as he nods. 

“Definitely helped that we had a bit of a head start on the ‘where are you from?’ shit..” There’s a twinkle of playfulness in his heart wrenching sincerity. 

“I hate that part.” You look into his eyes. It makes your chest flutter, how he looks at you.

“I know we didn’t know each other all that well in school..”

“Since kindergarten.” Your shrug is tiny, you smile playfully as he groans. 

“Since kindergarten. Shit. What’ve I been doing all this time…” he asks the ceiling.

“Same as me. Getting out of Hawkins. Going on crappy dates...” 

“Mm, true. Growing up, I guess.” He’s quiet for a moment, “Last night wasn’t crappy. Best date I’ve been on in a long long time.”

“Me too. I think I’ll let you take me out again, if you want to…” you say, whispering bravely as you act all playful despite your hammering heart. 

The smile on Steve’s face makes the butterflies in your stomach swoop again. You weren’t the only one who felt so dimmed by dating around, having your heart broken. There’s a beat of silence, charged electric as Steve looks at your lips and you touch his chain again. 

“You like pancakes, or waffles?” Steve’s eyes twinkle. 

You squeeze the bulk of his bicep. “French toast.”

His head tips back in laugh, showing off his delicious throat. “Oh she’s fancy?”

“She is.” 

He leans in to kiss you in more time. “I can do fancy, baby.” 

“You’ve done fancy twice. Fancy is hungry, Steve.”

Your laughter echoes in the golden morning light that fills your room as his fingers skate over your ribs, finding the ticklish spots before he hauls you as close as possible again. 

Steve’s nose presses against your cheek, smooching one more kiss there before sitting up to find his pants. As you stargaze at the constellation on his broad back, you think this might just be the start of something really amazing.

comments, reblogs and likes are not simply appreciated - they are cherished

[pedrito-friskito]

HAPPY SLEEPOVER!! If you’ve still got a marvel slot available, may I request some fluffiness for Matt Murdock with the prompt: “Do you want me to carry you?”

ohohohohohohhhhhhoooooo kay is in a fluffy mood let’s GO thank you bby 💕

🔥friday night fever!🔥

Matt Murdock is a lullaby all his own. It didn’t take you long to figure out that the best place to fall asleep isn’t your own bed anymore, but his arms, no matter where you are. Tucked under his shoulder on the subway, sprawled on your bed with your head on his chest, curled up on his couch. The steady beat of his heart is the sound of dreamland now, the gentle thump-thump the only thing that can lull you to sleep with ease.

Couple that with the scent of him, warm and musky, invading your senses. It comes stronger when he adjusts himself beneath you, slotting a leg between your knees or pulling you higher up his body so your head can fit into the crook of his neck. The scent lingers on your clothes even when you’re not with him, and you’re sure to steal a t-shirt or sweater from his apartment each time you leave, returning them only after you’ve slept in them multiple nights and the smell has faded almost completely. He notices — of course he does — and it’s a rare occasion that he doesn’t show up at your apartment on the weekend without a few extra layers, ‘forgetting’ one or two when he leaves the next morning.

Then there’s the feel of him. And not just the ridges of muscle and the softness in those strong hands. His body is a marvel all it’s own, and you’ve dozed off tracing his scars more than once, thumb caught in the dip along his hip or side or chest. No, it’s more than that. It’s the…aura he carries with him, that all-encompassing feeling of being safe, of knowing that no matter what happens, he’ll protect you.

Even before you know what he does in the dark, it feels like that. The first time you fall asleep in front of him is your second date, and you blame it on that feeling, the security and comfort you feel around Matt Murdock. He laughs and brushes off your mumbled apologies. “You held onto me pretty tight. I didn’t have the heart to wake you.”

He kissed your cheek when he heard the rush of blood to your face, the flush that heated your skin.

But nothing compares to Matt’s voice.

The first time you met, you already knew it was your favourite sound. That occasionally low rasp, the way it climbed with passion when he wanted to prove a point, the soft whispers when he roused you in the morning. The way it felt growled against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. He’s articulate without being condescending, and you could listen to him talk forever.

In the early days of your relationship, you spend hours on the phone with him, talking about anything and everything, refusing to be the one who hangs up first, just so you can hear his soft goodnight, sweetheart one more time. You beg him to send you voice notes throughout the day, saving the best ones to listen to before bed when you can’t have him at your side.

Tonight, you’re tired. Bone-tired, the weight of the week behind you too much to bear. It’s Friday, you know you should be out at the bar, cavorting the night away before work starts again Monday, but you can’t find it in you, opting for a bottle of wine and a good book for each of you, cuddled up on Matt’s couch, the leather warm beneath you, your legs covered by a soft blanket. Matt’s braille copy of Stardust is balanced on the arm as he moves his fingers over the pages.

Your glass of wine is long empty, and you lie on your side, your head in his lap, his free hand carding through your hair as he reads aloud. “The silver chain was now nothing but smoke and vapour. For a heartbeat it hung on the air, then a sharp gust of wind and rain blew it out into nothing at all.”

He keeps reading, you’re sure, but your eyes have been closed a while now, there’s the gentle drag of his nails against your scalp, combined with the sound of his voice, the headiness lingering from the wine, and the warmth of his body. You’re a goner. 

“Mmm,” you groan happily, interrupting his reading and you can hear the smile in his voice as he continues. Your brain shuts off, no longer interested in the story, much more intrigued by the idea of sleep and Matt and cuddles and warmth.

“Sweetheart?” he calls, his voice a little too loud. Some time has passed, you know, because when you open your eyes, the sky outside the living room window is pitch-black (save for the too-bright billboard of course) and the candle you’d been burning has been reduced to nothing, the wick giving off smoke instead of flame. “Honey, let’s go to bed.”

“Nuh-huh,” you groan, trying to burrow deeper into his lap, turning onto your side so your face is pressed to his stomach. “Don’t wanna move.”

“Do you want me to carry you?” he asks, and you make a questioning noise, starting to move, but before you can, he’s pulling you gently upright and into his lap. You wrap yourself around him, pushing your face into his neck as he stands, both hands under your ass and holding you aloft in his arms. Your legs automatically wind around his waist, ankles locking together, and he kisses your temple as he starts to walk through the apartment towards the bedroom. Forehead against his throat, you lift your jaw, returning his kiss, pressing yours against his pulse.

He sets you gently on the bed, your eyes slipping completely shut once more as he pulls the sheets back and tucks you under them. You feel him slide in beside you, and you gravitate towards him automatically, your head finding it’s rightful place on his chest, one leg hooked around his knee.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he hums, mouth against the crown of your head.

If he says anything else, you don’t hear it, falling deeply into dreamland, lulled to sleep by the lullaby that is Matt Murdock.

—————

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[mad4turtles]

I see that you're taking requests and after reading that adorable Leo & Mikey fic, could you maybe write Raph and Donnie bonding fic, going off that little pattern for the brothers?

I LOVE YOU SO MUCH let's do this!

(Set after the movie, because I like to feel pain).

----

Donnie is doing it again.

Woken by the sound of bare feet travelling past his bedroom, Raph rolls out of bed, disoriented (still half-dreaming of tentacles seeping through his skin and into his eyes, of his clenched fist reared back to impale his little brother struggling to breathe in his grasp), and gets to his feet. 

His right eye itches something awful, and it's all he can do to keep from rubbing at it. It's a miracle he can still see out of it.

There have been a lot of miracles, actually. Not enough to outweigh the horror, but enough, and Raph is grateful. So damn grateful.

One of those miracles has their eggheaded genius awake at hell-o'clock in the morning. Again.

Raph slides his door open, peering along the row of subway cars. He doesn't have to squint to find Donnie. The artificial light cast from his wrist tech breaks through the gloom of the lair and bathes the purple turtle's face as he stares at the holo-screen. Bloodshot eyes trace lines of code, medical jargon Raph could never decipher, the lines of a steadily beating heart...

Oh, Don.

Raph lumbers over. He doesn't bother to mask his approach, Donnie knows he's there. He doesn't look up from the monitor, not even when Raph stands right over him, arms folded. “Donnie.”

“Have you taken your meds already?” Donnie's voice is a soft, lifeless monotone of exhaustion and barely hidden stress. It makes Raph's heart ache to hear it, the deliberate detachment of heart and mind.

Still, he answers. “Yeah, Don, I did. You saw me take 'em. Six hours ago.”

Donnie hums distractedly. “Mikey change his bandages?”

Raph shifts his stance, impatience brewing behind his plastron though he knows it's unfair. “Yep. You did that too. Six hours ago,” he says. “Right before I told you to get some rest and stay in bed this time.”

“Can't,” Donnie says shortly, “too busy.” His eyes don't leave the screen, watching Leo's heartbeat with an intensity that dares it to stop. It won't, they all know it won't, Donnie first and foremost.

Yet here they are.

Raph sighs, arms flopping to his sides. Donatello is a genius beyond his years, and everyone knows it. His brain is what's telling him to monitor Leo's vitals constantly as he sleeps off the worst of his injuries. His heart tells him to sit outside his door every night until his twin wakes up for a few hours before succumbing to exhaustion again. Then Donnie will come and sit at his door. Rinse and repeat.

It's taking its toll on him. He can barely walk in a straight line, his temper is shorter than ever and, when he's not at Leo's door, he's locked in his lab, working tirelessly on projects that will prevent this (alien invasions, possessed brothers and self-sacrificing twins) from happening again. Not impossible, but not feasible, not right now. Not like this.

So Raph drops to the floor beside his little brother, folding his legs. “You don't gotta do this to yourself, Donnie,” he says as gently as he can manage. Donnie's eye twitches, jaw clenching. He doesn't look at Raph. Raph shuffles closer, trying for a smile. “Leo's gonna be fine, we're all fine. I'm back, Pops is back on his feet, Mikey's hands are healin', and Leo's here. Turn that big brain off for one night and—”

“You don't—!” Donnie snaps and whirls on Raph with a rage he hasn't seen since he launched a mystic drill at Kraang's face. He's breathing hard, shaking, tears pooling the corners of his eyes unbidden and Raph can only stare. The fuse is burnt out and the canon has fired, smouldering and loud in a way only Donnie can be without waking everyone in New York (or the sleeping turtle in the car behind them).

A sob shudders out of Donnie before he turns away, hugging his knees. The hologram drops. “You don't understand, Raph,” Donnie hisses as tears drip like rain down his cheeks unchecked, and Raph knew this has been building, but not this much, and he feels like an idiot for not seeing it. “He—Leo, he—he could've died in there, Raph, he—stupid, brainless, dumdum just had to jump into the portal, didn't he? Just—just had to pull one last bullshit stunt to make my life difficult before fricking off into oblivion to save us like he couldn't have asked for help, like he, like he couldn't have portalled us up there with him to shove that asshole back to the shadow realm!”

Donnie's rambling now, working himself up. Raph shifts to his knees as Donnie hunches forward, fingers yanking his mask tails, breaths short and angry—“and yeah, sure, he's back, Mikey's the absolute goat with his mystic burnt hands, but I had to reset his leg, his shell was cracked in three freaking places, he stopped—did you know he stopped breathing once? Because—because he, he did, and, and I know you're the big—big brother, the brother who is the biggest, but Nardo, Leon, Leo, Leonardo he—he's my twin, my twin brother and I almost, we almost—!”

Donnie shoves his face in his hands, tucking his legs in and oh, Raph thinks, this is a bad one.

It's not been this bad since Shredder nearly tore Donnie's shell open, ripping through his battle shell like paper. Donnie had pulled the same stunts then—isolation, obsession, short fuse and all—and they'd pulled him back down together. Right now it's just Raph, and he prays he's enough.

Leader or not, he's still the big brother, the brother who is the biggest. He'd sooner let the city burn before he's anything less.

So he carefully wraps his massive arms around Donnie's heaving shoulders and pulls him against his plastron. Donnie goes rigid for half a beat before melting against him, still curled up and crying silent tears. He never sobs like Mikey does, heartbreaking cries that tear Raph in two, nor does he sniffle or weep like Leo does when he's trying to be quiet, hiding his sadness the way he hides everything else with jokes and showy stunts. Donnie has always worn his sadness differently, even now, days after his world was nearly ripped asunder by the loss of his twin.

The fact that he admitted it—Leo has always insisted, biology be damned—is a testament to how not okay they are. Miracles can only do so much, Raph supposes.

“I know, Donnie. I know,” Raph hushes as Donnie hiccups on another sob, biting down on his lip to muffle the worst of them. Raph puts his cheek atop Donnie's head and squeezes him a little. “I know. I was scared, too. Scared out my goddamn mind. But it's over. They're gone and Leo isn't. We're all here. And I'd let the world burn before that changes. Okay?”

Donnie sniffs, nodding. Looks like he's reached his limit. Raph adjusts him in his arms into a bridal carry and stands. Donnie doesn't fight him this time, wrapping trembling arms around Raph's neck instead.

Good, Raph thinks, relieved. It was enough.

“Want me to carry you to bed?” he asks, already turning for Donnie's room until Donnie shakes his head hard. Raph raises a brow. “I ain't taking you back to the lab—”

Donnie points to the living room. Raph looks over his shoulder and, really, he shouldn't be surprised to see Mikey and April halfway through making a blanket fort, but he is. More so when Casey Jr pops his head out from under one of Leo's weighted blankets and flashes a bashful grin, waving at Raph.

Raph can't help but chuckle. “And how long have you guys been in there?”

“About the same time you got up,” April replies, flicking the fairy lights on; they're Donnie's favourites that look like constellations when you set them up a certain way. “We figured it was about time if Donnie's up to it.”

Raph looks down at the turtle in his arms, not shaking anymore but mostly non-verbal still. He smiles wryly. “I think he is.”

“Room for one more, hermano?”

“Mother f—!” Raph jumps half a foot and sees Leo leaning against his doorway, lazy smile and all. He still looks like hell warmed over, favouring his left side with something rattling in his chest with every breath, and Raph opens his mouth to dish out a reprimand—

Donnie beats him to it, scrambling out of Raph's arms and marching over to Leo, anger and worry in every line of his face. “You—you—mmm, you—!” he pokes a harsh finger against Leo's chest as he fights to get words out. Leo keeps smiling and moves Donnie's hand out the way, stepping close enough to butt their foreheads together. Donnie stops, frozen.

“Thanks for looking out for me, Dee.”

Donnie deflates like a balloon, the tension leaving him as he holds Leo's left bicep in a grip that might bruise; a silent 'I love you but I'll kick your ass for this later.'

Raph lets the moment sit a little longer before reaching out for both of them. “To answer your question, idiot,” he says, and the twins look up, eyes red and watery and Leo with that damn smile that they'll talk about later, “there's always room. But don't think you're off the hook, Leo, I'm gettin' your ass for not resting like you should be. And I'm tellin' Pops.”

Leo pouts. “Bummer, but I'll take it.” He also takes Raph wrapping an arm around him and Donnie and hauling them off their feet to join their family in the blanket fort. Mikey must have dipped to the kitchen at some point, their leftovers and treats scattered across the cushioned floor.

They decide on 'Back to the Future', another movie among the infinite list that Casey Jr hasn't seen, and settle down in a cosy pile of limbs, pillows, blankets and meat-lovers pizza. Leo and Mikey doze off about halfway through, the slider's head pillowed on Mikey's lap. When Mikey lists too far sideways, April wraps her arm around him and brings him close. Casey pulls up a blanket to cover the trio before leaning back against Raph's arm, eyes fixed on Marty McFly. On Raph's other side, tucked snugly under his arm, Donnie shifts.

“Love you, Raph,” he croaks softly, low enough for his ears only. When Raph looks down, Donnie is already looking away, but Raph grins all the same. He gives Donnie a quick squeeze.

“Love you too, buddy.”

Miracles can only do so much, but for now, here with his family around them, alive and safe, it's enough. They can figure out the rest later.

---

Please keep sending requests! I love writing for these boys!

[tortoisebore]

time after time (because its a funny name) approximately 3 years 2 months and 19 days into the future s'il vous plait

specific & unusual asks game!!!

eeeeeeee 🤭🥹😊💞☺️✨💓 this is gonna be very short and purposefully a little vague bc i don’t want to spoil the epilogue but here’s a quick and fluffy little callback to a particularly sappy and mildly angsty moment in chapter 6, three years, two months, and 19 days later 💞💓💕💖💗✨💞

The end of January brought a biting cold that seemed to embed itself into Sirius’ bones. The commute to work had become more of a waddle to the subway down the street, hopping down the stairs and straining to get his arm high enough to scan his MetroCard around the layers and layers of sweaters and jackets and scarves wrapped around his body. Winter in New York meant looking ridiculous, sporting frizzy hat hair four months out of the year and sweating under two puffer jackets to keep the chill out on the way to work, but it was a small price to pay to live in the city again, happier and lighter outside of the looming threat of being sent back to Lenox Hill.

The problem now was that he woke up freezing, curled into a ball under the heavy duvet at seven in the morning on a Saturday he was supposed to be sleeping in. Watery gray light filtered in from the windows on the other side of the room as he squinted one eye open, frowning at the empty space on the right side of the bed and grumbling unhappily to himself. That’s why he was awake two hours early; his big and tall and gorgeous—and usually very cuddly—personal heater was gone.

That simply wouldn’t do.

Sirius slid out of bed with a list of demands ready to go. It’d been a long fucking week, what with the new exhibit opening and trainings at the rink in Brooklyn every other night, and Remus had promised a relaxing weekend after Sirius had stumbled home exhausted from the opening on Thursday night. A relaxing weekend did not call for waking up by himself, let alone by himself and cold, and his sleep-muddled brain was was ready to argue about it.

He shuffled down the hall with what he was sure was a comical kind of frown, stopped in the doorway to the kitchen-slash-dining-slash-living room and spotted the culprit there at the table. He was hunched over his laptop, typing furiously for a moment before sitting back with a huff, squinting at the screen, and Sirius wanted to smile. Of course Remus was up working, he was always working nowadays—writing papers and prepping for exams, meeting with his thesis advisor once a month and worrying to Sirius about it over the phone immediately after. Sirius had gotten very good at soothing his thesis-related anxiety, whether that meant talking him off the proverbial ledge or making him close the laptop and go the fuck to sleep, and his Remus-attuned instincts were telling him this was a go the fuck to sleep kind of moment.

And if that meant Sirius got another couple hours of nice, warm sleep himself, well that was just icing on the cake.

He padded through the living room, dodging the giant armchair that was definitely too big for the space but Remus argued was too soft and comfortable to get rid of, and wedged himself against the wall behind Remus’ chair. He bent over a bit to slide his hands around his shoulders, tugged him back and pressed his nose to the blissfully warm skin of his neck.

Remus turned his head a bit in surprise—he’d been too busy reading what Sirius could now see was his open thesis draft to notice he’d been coming—and leaned back into him, took one of his hands and muttered “Hi, baby,” against his knuckles. “You’re up early.”

“Cold,” Sirius mumbled, refusing to remove himself from the delicious heat of Remus’ skin for even a moment.

“You’re cold?” Remus asked, a fond little smile in his voice that Sirius had memorized the shape of a long time ago.

“Too cold without you.”

“I’m sorry,” Remus said through another kiss to his knuckles. “I just have to send this back for review by eight, I was coming right back.”

Sirius grumbled something incoherent even to his own ears, gave a light, displeased scrape of his teeth to his neck and said, “Come now, ‘m tired.”

“Hold on just a second,” Remus said, drawing little shapes on the back of Sirius’ palm to try and soothe him into patience. “Let me save it and send this email.”

Sirius supposed that was reasonable, but he made sure to voice his complaints at being kept waiting in the form of squeezing Remus tighter and mumbling vague threats against his neck. Remus just smiled, took Sirius’ promise to throw all of his clothes into the street in stride because he was a saint, and only reread his email twice before hitting send and closing his laptop.

“Okay,” he said, tapping Sirius’ arm twice in an attempt to get him to let go. “Come on.”

“You come on,” Sirius mumbled, holding him tighter, and Remus snorted a laugh before he got with the program and wormed out of his chair with Sirius’ arms still locked around his shoulders. Sirius realized quickly that he had miscalculated a bit, and when his feet threatened to leave the ground when Remus stood up straight, he moved his grip around his middle instead.

It was better, he decided as he pressed the side of his face between Remus’ shoulder blades, hands tight around his waist to feel a breathy little laugh vibrate against his ribs as much as he heard it. Remus’ hands circled his own as he started a shuffle back across the room, and Sirius smiled against his back as he was led back to bed.

[cookietroop]

(Make sure you thank the song that inspire me, Top of my School by Katherine Lynn-Rose)

Top of the Subway ( Self Aware! Ingo x Reader)

Ingo was saddened today, his darling was not online at the moment. He could see her stressed out mind, she was working on her review that her professor assigned and she started to break down. He knew that she was stressing out, having the responsibility of the oldest child, to carry the burden of getting a job, completing assignments without fail and with perfection.

He could only watch as she finished and sighing with relief looking over the review with a sad smile, then a voice was heard, her mother demanding that she must watch the younger siblings, he could only glare and give his darling a pitiful frown.

He knows how much she hated her mother, how she hated when her mother would leave her with too much responsibility that she was supposed to have. But no, she was the double, that daughter that was supposed to be perfect.

He saw as she went downstairs and bringing up a little toddler and a baby all wrapped up in a blanket. The baby cried and the girl could only try to soothe her with words as the toddler had a red face, showing her that they were about to cry as well. He saw as she quickly distracted the toddler with his stuffed lion and the baby with a pacifier.

She could only silently watch them carefully as she placed the baby in a crib and place the sleepy toddler on her bed before returning to her desk and began reading up her review and drilling it in her mind.

She soon had a sour look before grabbing at her hair and silently saying curses to her mother, saying that she was tired of this life, she was tired of being her mother’s replacement, her selfish desire of being herself, and a wish that she could just be with someone who truly loved her not for her pay or anything from her.

Ingo clenched his fists, he couldn’t just ignore your wish, he wanted to be there with you, for you to not work a day in your life, to be happy with him and only him.

That night as you went to sleep, Ingo finally broke out of his digital prison, seeing you in the flesh was a temptation itself but Ingo focused on his main objective and quickly rushed downstairs.

That morning you woke up 5:00 am, your usual time to wake up, you got downstairs after you got ready to see a packed lunch with a small sticky note attached to it saying,”Have a Pleasurable Day!” Neatly written with a small smiley face.

You were confused by this but when you saw that it was packed with your favorites, you oblige and quickly grabbed it and went to school.

For the next first few months, your locker was always filled with a letter staying sweet words and gave you many compliments, always ending with a beautiful written ‘I’ at the end.

Your friends teased you and started to try and find out who was sending the letters, but you already knew some of the people with I, but they didn’t have the same neat handwriting, and plus it had a sort of scent that you liked but didn’t know what it was. But you liked the letters and they even brought you a sort of giddiness.

The second few months now the letter was accompanied by small but grand gifts, a small gift box with your favorite color, sweets that you loved, and even stuffed animals with a small ribbon. Now your friends were really wanting to find out who was the secret admirer.

But soon word spread and then the popular girls stepped in and they were jealous of your secret admirer.

“How could he even like you? A shameful loser! A bitch who doesn’t even know how to be beautiful!” Laughed the leader of the popular group, you could only stand there as they began to shout insults and telling you to hang yourself. They began to rip the present out of your clutches and you were desperate for them to give it back but they began to beat you but you somehow managed to get away because of your friends calling the teacher just in time.

You cried when you were in the restroom, you didn’t want to give away the only love you had, the affection that you made you feel wanted, the soft and charming words that were written in clean handwriting, you didn’t want to give it up. You just couldn’t.

The next day when you were approaching your locker, the popular girls were watching your every move as you opened your locker, and you saw a small letter, it was the same type of letter that he would always make, you opened the letter up to see the content of it, and read it quickly and quietly as you felt the popular girls glares of envy and evil.

‘My Dearest (Name),

It Pains me to know that you suffer from my love for you, how much of your tears have stabbed me, Please give me a chance to reveal myself. Tonight, at your house I’ll visit, I must not show my face for I must remain a mystery for your safety, but I’ll give you a gift that will help you in your times of need.

- Signed with Love, I

You were surprised by this, he is going to visit you?! In your household!? You felt your heart pumping to your face and a red face was covered by your hands as you quickly shoved the letter in your hidden pocket in your pencil bag.

You could only have a giddy smile with you trying to pass the time and checking the clock every second, your friends asked why the sudden happiness, but all they got was an excuse.

As the final bell rang your ran straight to your home but then you got jumped by the group of popular girls, they began to beat you tear up anything in your backpack and decided to tie you up in the woods and left you only with your phone that was up in the tree, you began to tear up, why when you have a good time did something bad think that it was okay to snatch it away from you?

You cried for hours until you fell unconscious, losing hope for your return and doubting that your mother would even care to look for you.

Ingo looked through your window, you weren’t there, the room was in the same condition, no lights not even your phone was in your usual spot. He quickly went to your school and saw nearby an injured you, full of cuts and bruises, he clenched his fists and had a terrifying anger in his face.

He untied you and gather your things into your kicked backpack, he quickly brought out Chandelure to carry your things as he slowly went to you home, he lovingly laid you down on your bed, he carefully and quickly bandaged you up and gently caress your hand before disappearing into your screen, wondering if Emmet was already calling out search parties.

You woke up looked around to see that you were in your room, you look to see that you were in bandages you were surprised by this, who bandaged you up? Did your mother actually come to the rescue? You quickly gone downstairs after getting ready for another hellish day at school, you saw that a packed lunch was already awaiting you but as you got a little saddened by the fact that there wasn’t a sticky note, you saw one in the lunch bag.

‘My dearest (Name),

I am angered by the fact that those heathens touched you, I did you favor last night, you don’t have to return it. Enjoy my generous gift.

-With Love I.

You were confused about the content of it, a gift? A generous favor? What was it?

As you went to school you saw everyone rushing to the cafeteria, police sirens started to scream, and many police officers started to dash in, detectives, parents, school faculty, everyone was screaming and in shock. Your friend grabbed your hand and dragged you in the cafeteria to see what was going on only for you two to start to look in horror.

The popular girls were hanging from the ceiling with wires, their eyes pure white blood was leaking out and they seem to be trapped in a horrified face screaming.

The police ordered everyone outside and other members started to cover the scene with police tape. The parents were crying, screaming their kids name as policemen pushed them back and trying to get them to calm down.

But how could they? Their kids were hanged by a person they would never suspect.

The school was shut down for the month, news reporters were talking to students, trying to find the exclusive information, few talked, it was uncomfortable the whole situation.

But your mother? She didn’t give a damn about it, only saw it as an opportunity to get free babysitting.

You could only sit there with the traumatizing scene stuck in your mind, was this his doing? Was it your fault? Was this the ‘generous’ gift he wanted you to have? The blood of your tormentors?

You sat there, guilt ridden all over your face, then a doorbell rang, you went downstairs, you saw only pitch black of the night, no one was there, you opened the door and looked to see a letter.

You hesitated to pick it up, but grabbed it and shut the door, locking it.

You felt the hairs on your neck standing on end, someone was watching you! You began to shut the windows and cover the windows and quickly ran upstairs and locking your door.

You began to call the police but there was no internet connection, someone cut off the power! All of the lights instantly turned off, you could only stand there, your stomach turning and twisting in fear until a light appeared from your computer.

Please let me in…… have I done something wrong?|

You saw the keys typing itself, you saw the words, you gulped as you approached the computer and began to type.

What do you think?! You hanged literal people from the cafeteria!|

You heard the door knob jiggling roughly trying to get in, you were caught off guard but the screen began to show new typed words.

They were tormenting you, they had no right to do that, I gave them the punishment they deserve, besides they were hated by everyone.|

Then screens began to appear, all of them were text messages, group chats, everything, it was your classmates! They were saying how they wanted the group to die, how they would gladly give them death and torture them. You began to get furious and began to type up your rage.

WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?! ARE YOU A FUCKING HACKER?! WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING HERE?! LEAVE ME ALONE!|

Suddenly the computer began to heat up making you recoil from your keyboard, you hissed in pain.

Just let me in dear, you don’t have to worry about anything, just let me have you by my side, you wouldn’t have to graduate from college, have worries about a job or money, you can have a comfortable life, just let me in, I forgive you already.|

The sound stopped, you have the option of have a life without worry, wouldn’t have to take care of mother’s burdens and be with the guy that gave you nothing but sweet words of comfort and help.

But you shook your head and stood firm with your decision.

No ‘I’ or whatever the hell your name is, I will never let you in, you ruined your chance when you killed those girls, just piss off and never even send me another letter or your so called ‘help’, LEAVE. ME. ALONE.|

(Name), I am disappointed that you reject me, seems that I must take care of that, well then, I must be grateful for your mother then for always leaving the key under the doormat. I will see you shortly and we will be together soon enough.|

Click*

You turned around, horror exploded in your mind when you heard footsteps coming from downstairs and it was starting to get louder. Your eyes were darting around and your door knob was turning and your door opened.

Your eyes widened, you didn’t expect a fictional character to be your secret admirer but you still took a chance and dashed to the door, but then the infamous Chandelure used hypnosis and took you out.

You woke up, in a room, tied down to a large bed, Ingo came into the room and saw you awake, he walked up to you and caressed your scars that you had all over from your now dead tormentors. He only tsk in annoyance as he saw that the scars were starting to bleed again, he grabbed a roll of bandages and started to wrap them up.

You try to fight him off or even scream but your mouth only let out a croak, your voice was gone.

“I’m sorry about that, I just had to make sure you wouldn’t be able to leave me and not to let anyone hear that voice of yours.” Said Ingo, you could only shut your mouth and look at him, holding back tears of fear.

Ingo wiped away those tears and kissed your forehead. Then he left, going to work.

Months past and Ingo’s affections started to make you use to it and made you more comfortable with him and it was easier to listen to him.

Now to the present, you were sitting on the couch with ingo who was spooning you.

“Tomorrow I’ll finally introduce you to Emmet, I’m sure he’ll take a liking to you.” Said Ingo, you hummed in acknowledgment.

“And we will finally tell them the good news.” Ingo said, as he held your hand, your finger trapped in a shiny band of gold and a shimmering diamond.

[frugalhoe]

10/14/22 - Surgery day!

I did a lot of reading leading up to my surgery this morning 🌄

I finally got a tubal laparoscopy ("tubes tied").

I stopped eating the evening before, and had a cup of iced tea a few hours before my check in time the morning of my surgery.

I packed some stuff in my purse - contact lenses, paper work, etc.

Anyways, my friend picked me up and stayed with me until I was checked in to my room.

My eyes popped out of my head when I was shown an $4k itemized bill (should be $0 but insurance companies are shady so 😮‍💨). Worst case scenario, I do have enough covered in my HSA but I will hang on to my money as much as possible.

The nurse took my vitals, did a pregnancy test and then prepped my hand for the IV. She also warmed up my legs with this inflatable plastic blanket to keep blood circulation going.

Then someone else ran an EKG check on me. Shortly afterwards, I met my anesthesiologist team who were confused why I was given the EKG test done ($$$$) since my health/vitals etc are excellent minus being overweight. I signed another consent form.

My Dr popped in briefly to answer any last minute questions. I took out my contacts and then I was injected with a mild sedative. I was wheeled into the operating room.

I took a few deep breaths from the mask placed over my face and was out.

Woke up to a nurse waking me up in a different room. The staff put my contacts back in before I woke up but my eyesight was super blurry. Eventually the nurse took out my breathing tube and sat me up a bit in the hospital bed.

After a little while my vision adjusted. I gradually drank a lot of water and had a couple containers of apple sauce. I tried to eat saltine crackers but they dried out my mouth even worse. At least I knew I could stomach solid food though. My nurse also gave me a dose of stronger pain meds since I still had to go fill a prescription after leaving the hospital.

During my surgery, my doctor drained a cyst on my one of my ovaries and sent my removed fallopian tubes and cyst material to pathology.

She also removed my nexplanon (implant hormonal birth control). I think it was bandaged too tight during my surgery or something. I had numbness from my left hand down to my elbow. It most likely had been wrapped like that for at least a couple hours. The nurse quickly removed the bandage completely and when the numbness didn't change, she called my doctor but she didn't come over.

I changed back into my clothes and looked at my stitches. I had some bleeding. One incision is inside my belly button and 2 are on my lower stomach. Overall, I felt pretty good but I was on pain meds so 🤷

My friend arrived to pick me up and he went over the post op instructions with her. My friend drove the car around and my nurse wheeled me out to the curb. Walking was fine. Felt mostly normal besides the cotton mouth.

Got my prescription and stopped off at subway on the way home. I ate a lot and then had more food once home. No issues. I fed the pets and my friend walked my puppy for me since she pulls hard and likes to jump on me.

I started my cycle of Tylenol and ibuprofen and set alarms on my phone.

My friend left and I read a magazine on the couch for awhile. The numbness in my hand went away while at the pharmacy but I still feel numb from the middle of my inner forearm to my elbow. Maybe short term nerve damage?

Shuffled downstairs to pick up a package before crawling into bed 😴

I know from my wisdom teeth surgery that the pain gets worse as the days pass so we'll see how the rest of my recovery progresses!

Hopefully my details help others considering sterilization 😀

10/14/22

[theycallmespidersquid]

A day in the life...

of a diseased person.

12:38 am- Put away the fanfiction and box of tissues (by put away I mean toss them to the end of the bed)

12:39 am- Fall asleep immediately after making yourself comfortable.

12:40 am to 7:14 am- Have a wack dream that you can remember vividly when you wake up and forget straight after you sit up.

7:14 am- Pass out when you sit up. Wake up again as soon as your head hits the bedframe.

7:15 am to 7:34 am- Wait for everyone else in the house to leave for work so you can get up without spreading your curse. Don't bother getting dressed.

7:34 am- Slowly get up to avoid passing out again and hitting your head. You have chapped lips from breathing through your mouth (blocked nose). You find your lip balm.

Putting a continue reading thingie here because this is a pretty long post and tw: periods

7:48 am- Covid isn't enough. The universe needed to make sure you were absolutely d e s t r o y e d. You now have to go into the cupboards and take two packets of a certain sanitary product back to your room along with your tube of acne cream and a packet of chocolate. You now know why you were so dizzy and sluggish this morning.

9:13 am- Make breakfast and lunch (don't forget some red meat) and pack them both into containers to take back to your room before everyone gets back for a midday rest (farmers). This will sustain you until everyone has gone back to the farm and it is safe to emerge again. Go back and do your dishes while wearing a mask. You also take a daily test.

10:26 am- Back in your room constructing a fanfiction queue to keep you occupied. Eat breakfast.

11:00 am- Absorbed in enjoying fanfiction.

12:35 pm- Eat lunch. Yummy oven cooked hashbrowns.

1:00 pm- n a p

2:00 pm- Play horror games. Take a quick recess because you got too competitive and now your heart is doing concerning things.

3:30 pm- Wait impatiently for everyone to get the fUCJ out of the house.

4:15 pm- Dance to your ringtone for your sister in the living room. Let it ring out because she wants your apple id to download subway surfers and that is not something you are willing to deal with today.

5:00 pm- Back in your room reading and watching random videos.

6:58 pm- Everyone is back.

7:30 pm- Someone pushes a plate with one piece of toast and some minced beef on top towards your door with a stick. Five star meal and customer service.

7:40 pm- Same person comes to take your plate away. With a grabby pole.

8:20 pm- just vibe

9:46 pm- Start reading fanfiction again.

10:17 pm- Start struggling to keep your eyes open to read fanfiction.

11:20 pm- Concede defeat.

12:47 pm- Unable to rest.

Repeat.

[amjustagirl]

Love knows not its depth (until the hour of separation) 

pairing: Kuroo x f! reader  genre: angst / fluff, post timeskip! warnings: a tiny smudge of suggestive content wc: 4.9k m.list ~ taglist. ~

a/n: this is my rendition of a grown up Kuroo. life has been a little hectic for me recently, so i’m only getting around to posting it now. pls be kind and i hope y’all love it <3 

“I need a break.”

Kuroo continues to snore. You are unsurprised he doesn’t hear you. After all, he came home glassy eyed, smelling strongly of alcohol after yet another night of drinks with his boss before quickly falling asleep in bed. It’s what he does most weekday nights, leaving you alone at home to manage your two daughters and tuck them into bed. 

“I’m tired, Tetsuro.”

You are too tired to even tell him how you feel. You have a career of your own, two daughters to raise, a never ending list of chores and errands that must be done. You are a mother, a wife, a career woman. You have so many roles to play yet there is no space for you. 

You must do something, anything or risk your heart imploding in your very chest. 

You cannot survive that. 

The next morning, you call your boss, ask for a day off. Then you pack your girls off to your mother’s place with two little suitcases with toys and clothes enough for a long weekend before you take the train to Hakone, check yourself into the ryokan with a view of Mt. Fuji that you spent your honeymoon at - except this time, you’re alone (but then again, you’ve been lonely for so long, you hardly notice the difference anymore).

You dip yourself into the hot waters of the onsens, watch bamboo sway in the breeze. It’s been at least a year since you’ve been even able to take a bath uninterrupted. There’s always something - Aiko needing help with her homework, Fumiko whining for another piece of mochi, your boss calling to chase for yet another report, so all you’ve ever had time for is a hurried shower before placating your daughters or seating yourself in front of your laptop to deal with your boss. 

Finally, you’ve stolen a day to yourself. It’s absolute bliss. 

The water is kind to you. Its heat soothes your aching muscles, the rising steam steadies your breath. You walk out of the baths feeling refreshed, renewed, but when you enter your room you find Kuroo Tetsuro waiting for you. 

“I’ve been calling your phone all afternoon”, he says, face pinched. “I was worried.”

“Were you?” you say before you can stop yourself. “Really?” 

“Of course”, he says, uncrossing his legs to stand. “You’re my wife and the mother of my children, of course I care.”

Wife. Mother. Employee. 

The roles that life has handed you haunts you again. There is no escape for you. 

Your skin suddenly feels as if it’s stretched too tight over your frame. Your bones rattle, brittle. They threaten to break if you take another breath. Yet you laugh and laugh and laugh, the sound spilling from your lips filling the room, suffocating the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. 

“If you really cared, you would have noticed that your wife is broken”, you tell him between bouts of laughter. “I tried fixing myself with a break but you can’t even give me that.” 

Kuroo stares at you, equal parts horrified and confused. He takes a hesitant step forward towards you before thinking the better of it, swerving over to the kettle instead, clutching it as if it holds the cure to your madness. 

“Calm down”, he says, “take a seat”, and you do. He offers you a cup of tea. You accept it, even though you’re still shaking from the aftershock of your laughter. “Drink”, he says, and you bring the cup to your lips, though you wonder absently why you taste salt in the bitter tea. 

“Tell me what’s wrong”, he begs. “Tell me what I can do to fix you.” 

You want to tell him that you’re not strong enough to do what’s expected of you. You want to tell him that you’re drowning from the weight of being his wife, the mother of his kids, from being a working woman that he can be proud of. You want to tell him that you understand his career is important, but so is yours, and you can’t carry the weight of the world alone. 

But that would take too many words, and you are far, far too tired for that. 

So you say blankly - “I can’t do this anymore, Tetsuro.”

His face falls. 

You should remember that Kuroo Tetsuro, first and foremost, is a child scarred by his parents’ divorce. You should remember that you made promises that you and he would never put your daughters through that. But you’ve floated beyond hysteria into a grey indifference, your mind too broken, too tired, too numb to consider him when you can barely even hold on to yourself. 

You don’t even notice the hot tears soaking through your yukata. You are deaf to his pleas to give him another chance. There is nothing left in you to give because you’ve poured all you’ve had into him, into your family, into your job. You are so, so empty, and you just sit and sip your tea and wonder idly if the warmth from the liquid you’re ingesting will make you feel a little more alive, or if it’s possible to ease the dull ache in your heart. 

It is only when you wake up the next day and the sun is high in the sky that you register that he rolled out your futon for you, tucked you into bed, and kissed your forehead as a goodnight and goodbye. But all of this is washed away by the relief you feel when you read the note he’s left behind telling you that he’s returned to Tokyo, and to enjoy your break. 

So you do. 

You relish every bite of the meals you have at the ryokan. It’s nice not having to cook or scarf down your food at your office desk for once. You fill your time flitting between the onsens and curling up in your room with a book, taking frequent cat naps until tomorrow comes around again and it’s time to check out and head home. 

There’s a brief moment of surprise when the reception informs you politely that your husband already paid your bill - but you suppose that’s just Tetsuro being efficient at racking up credit card points. The bullet train takes you back to Tokyo, and a couple stops on the subway takes you home.  

“Okaeri”, you call softly out of habit, not expecting anyone to respond, but Kuroo responds with an even softer ‘Tadaima’, striding over to take your bags from you and usher you into the apartment. There are pink roses sitting in a vase, but you pay it no mind. 

“The girls?” you ask, already headed in the direction of their room. 

“I picked them up from your mom”, Kuroo responds. “Don’t wake them up, I just put them to bed”.

A peek into their room and it settles your mind to see that your girls are safe and sound asleep. 

“Thanks,” you say, back in the kitchen, checking the fridge for what you can whip up for breakfast for you and the girls tomorrow. “By the way, I’ll pay you back for the hotel room from my own money, don’t worry.”

“It’s fine”, Kuroo answers, scratching his head. His hair seems a little more rumpled than usual. “I’ll cover it. I should’ve realised you needed a break.”

“You sure? You don’t have to pay for me, I’ve got money of my own.”

“No, let me pay for it, please. It’s the least I can do.” 

You shrug. “Okay”, you say gracelessly. “Thank you.”

He continues to watch you over the kitchen counter as you lay out bread, eggs, ham, cheese. It’ll do for a quick breakfast for the girls tomorrow, never mind the guilt eating away at you that you really should do better than feeding them processed food all the time. You’re so preoccupied with planning the morning rush, the best way to clear the stack of reports that must have piled up on your desk at work by now that you miss Kuroo rounding the counter to stare down at you worriedly. 

“You haven’t had dinner?” 

“Oh no, I had a bento on the train on the way back.” It’s second nature to you to brush away anyone’s concern. “It’s for the girls’ breakfast.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take them to childcare before work tomorrow. Sleep in and take a break.”

“Really?” You stare back at him, confused. He doesn't even take charge of the girls in the mornings when you’re sick, your mother always has to fill in your place. He only ever turns up on the first day of school each year. 

“Yes, of course. In fact, I’ve rearranged my work schedule so I can take them to school all of this week at least.”

“Oh”, you say, brows furrowed in confusion. “Okay, I guess. Wake me up if you need my help.”

“I won’t”, he replies, with a cocky smirk that seems almost false. “Goodnight, love.”

You don’t think of Kuroo’s strange behaviour overmuch, falling asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow. 

Kuroo continues to act strangely all of next week. 

As promised, he takes charge of getting the girls out of bed and ready for school. But you’re taken aback when he starts coming home for dinner, completely floored when he hands you a whole armful of bath salts and orders you to take a relaxing, hot bath while he wrangles both the girls and the washing machine into submission. 

He even calls your mother to ask her to babysit on a Saturday evening so he can take you out for dinner at a fancy restaurant that serves foam instead of food. You manage to stumble through conversation with him - a commendable effort, since it’s been so long since you’ve even held a proper conversation with him besides snatches of discussion about the girls. 

At least until he states during dessert - “we can make it work if you want to quit your job and stay home full time with the children.”

The mousse on your spoon melts by the time you put it down on your plate. 

“Did the guys at work tell you it’s easier to have a housewife instead of a working wife? Are you saying this because you don’t think I’m a good enough mother to our girls? Is that what this is about?”

Kuroo shakes his head frantically, reaches across the table for your hand, but you yank it away with a glare. The extra rest you’ve gotten this week has injected a little more fight in you. 

“I try my best to be a good wife and mother, but I’m sorry I can’t be perfect and be there for you and the girls 24/7.” You press down on the sliver of cake with a vengeance. Clink! goes the flat of your spoon against the porcelain plate. “I’m sorry for being selfish, but I don’t want to be reliant on you.”

You regret your harsh words when Kuroo slumps back into his chair, murmuring “I just wanted you to be happy. Forget I ever said that.”

He pays the bill and you walk home in silence. He bids you goodnight with a crumpled smile. 

It finally clicks when you are startled awake by Kuroo’s shout of alarm. 

You roll over, grabbing his shoulder to shake him awake from the nightmare that has him in its grip. His eyes jolt open, and the sight of your face makes him sink back into the pillow with a sigh of relief. 

“Thank the gods you haven’t left.”

“Why would I leave? This is my home, isn’t it?” You mumble, turning your back to him again. 

You feel the bed shift as Kuroo sits up. 

“No”, he rasps, voice rough with sleep. “I was afraid you left me”. 

Oh. So that’s what all of this is about. 

You must stay quiet for far too long, because he gingerly crawls over to you. 

“Dearest”, he says, your heart suddenly aching because you don’t remember the last time you heard him use that pet name with any amount of affection. “Darling”, he tries again, pawing at your back. You shut your eyes resolutely and refuse to turn to face him. 

He doesn’t give up, even though the distance between you seems to yawn wide and wider with each passing second. 

“Are you?” he asks, his words small, shrunken in the still, dark room. “Going to leave me, I mean.” 

No, you’re about to say, the word balancing at the tip of your tongue but it feels wrong. Your break has given you the space to breathe, the time to think. It’s made you realise what you’ve said to him in the ryokan that night remains true. 

This week has shown you that Kuroo can do better as a husband, as a father if he wants to. But he’s poisoned your marriage with neglect, forced you to dress up your sadness in silence, allowed your resentment to fester and simmer into frigid indifference. If you reassure him that you aren’t going to leave him, it’s only because you’re too tired to, not because you actually love him anymore. 

“I don’t know, Tetsuro. Our daughters deserve to grow up with both their parents, but I’m not sure I want them to learn from my example that it’s okay to shoulder the weight of marriage, parenthood and a full time job all by themselves. Your dreams and career are important, I know, but I’m just so tired of being alone in this marriage when it was always supposed to be a partnership between me and you.” 

You hear him choke back a sob. You should comfort him, but the exhaustion you feel at being honest with him, with yourself, weighs your bones down, forces you to sink further down into your mattress. 

“I’m sorry”, he finally says. 

“I’m tired, Tetsuro”, you whisper brokenly, clutching the blankets to your chin. “I think I deserve better.”

“I know. I’ll make it better, I promise.” 

You want to ask him how, but your eyelids grow heavy, and you allow yourself to submerge into slumber. 

You’re not sure what to expect, but the ground beneath your feet shifts. Things start to change. 

Kuroo continues to take your daughters to childcare in the morning on the way to work as he did last week. That very weekend, he straps Fumiko to his chest, takes Aiko by her hand, and within an hour at the department store aided by a flash of his credit card, he purchases a dishwasher and robot vacuum for the house. He loads the dishes without you asking, runs the robot vacuum remotely once a day. It buys you time to breathe, a little more time to sleep. 

He doesn’t always make it home in time for dinner, but he tries his best to rush home so he can read the girls a bedtime story and tuck them into bed. 

“Dada”, Fumiko lisps, chubby fists wound around Kuroo’s tie. ‘I wanna hear another princess story!” 

“No Fumiko! Papa promised to tell us how he met mama!” Aiko prods Kuroo’s side with the wooden doll Yaku sent from Russia that you know he abhors. ‘Keep your promises, papa!” 

“Alright, settle down you monsters. I’ll tell you two stories if you promise to go to sleep right after that.” The girls cheer. “Now. Let’s see. A long, long time ago, your papa met your mama when she decided to beat him up because she thought he was trying to steal her food.” 

“You were trying to steal my food”, you interrupt, leaning against the doorway amused. “You didn’t stop til I stabbed you with my fork.”

He glances up, surprised when you sit beside him on the bed. Then he grins. 

“You left it on the table, dearest. What was a guy supposed to think?” 

“Mama, please let dada tell the story”, Aiko interjects with a huff. 

“Hurry up, dada! I want the princess story next!” Fumiko pulls at her silly dada’s shirt, pouting. 

You both laugh. There’s a soft smile playing on his lips when his eyes meet yours. 

Travelling all around Japan is still part of his job as a marketing director of the Japanese Volleyball Association. But now Kuroo pares it down to the bare minimum, makes sure he’s always back by the weekend at the very least to sweep the girls in his arms and shoo you off for a break of afternoon tea with your friends or shopping with your mom. 

“Will you be ok when I’m gone?”

You hand him his suitcase, a flask of his favourite tea. “I’ve always managed fine. Nothing’s changed.”

He bends down to kiss Aiko on her forehead, pinch Fumiko’s cheek playfully. 

“Yes. Well. I’ll come home soon”, he says, quietly. You startle slightly as he brushes his thumb over your wrist, lets it drift over your pulse point. “Please wait for me.” 

You glance up at him from beneath your lashes. “I’ll see you soon then”, you reply. His smile widens, his eyes are hopeful, bright. 

On the weekends, he stops flitting off for work functions and events. Instead, now he joins you for lunches at the kaiten zushi near your house, indulging the girls by ordering yet another plate of sushi just so Aiko has another chance to win a toy from the gachapon and Fumiko has another chance at feeling grown up when she lifts the plate from the conveyor belt. He stops ducking out from dinners at the grandparents’ place - both his and yours. Your mom stops giving him dirty looks when he actually turns up more than three times in a row with sake in hand. 

Once every so often, he even throws little parties for your family of four, going so far as to buy a frilly pink apron that makes your daughters giggle when he whips it out for the first time. After a few mishaps (and a number of frantic calls to Fukunaga), he masters how to make takoyaki and okonomiyaki, and in the colder months, he makes steaming pots of nabe and shabu shabu. 

“Itadakimasu” you murmur, and the girls follow suit. “It tastes good”, you say. 

He ducks his head bashfully, pink dusting the column of his neck. 

“Thank you”, he replies. “That means a lot, coming from you.” 

You start to savour the bubbles of happiness in your chest when you see how your daughters’ eyes shine when they see their papa whip out the pink apron. You learn to laugh when you hear the pitter patter of little feet, their delighted squeals and shrieks when they tell you the latest exploits their silly papa is cooking up - sparklers under the stars one weekend, a nerf gun fight, the next.

The weight on your shoulders grows lighter and lighter until one day you hardly notice it at all. 

“What’s wrong?” you frown at the sight of your husband dashing out of your bedroom, hair a frazzled mess. 

He whips around at the sound of your voice. “Oh. Oh.” He approaches you, slowly, carefully. “You’re still here.”

Your frown deepens. “My boss called and asked me to send out an urgent email. I was just about to go back to bed. Tetsuro, is everything alright?” 

He nods. “It’s fine - I just... I just woke up and thought you were gone.” 

You take a closer look. It’s dark, but the shadows of the night fail to hide the purple smudges beneath his eyes, the fine lines carved into his brow. His shoulders are bowed, his lips downturned and he looks broken, battered.    

Your heart hurts for him. 

“I’m here”, you say, beckoning him towards you. Physical affection has been scarce between you two for so, so long but he looks so distraught it’s only natural to pull him close, let him rest his head on your lap. “I’m here, Tetsuro. I’m not about to run off into the night – you know I don’t like the cold.”

He doesn’t laugh at your feeble joke. “Are you happier now? Are things better for you?” 

“Yes”, you say firmly, combing your fingers through his hair, rubbing circles along his back. “Thank you, Tetsuro. I appreciate it. I really do.”

You can feel him sag in relief. 

“You don’t have to work yourself to the bone for me. That’s – that’s never what I was asking for. If you’re tired, you need to take a break.”

He shakes his head stubbornly. “I’m fine. I can bear it as long as you don’t leave me.” 

“Tetsuro –“ 

He sits up abruptly, takes your hands in his. 

“Promise you won’t leave me”, he begs, head bowed. “I know I’ve been a shit husband to you for so long. It’s no excuse, but I thought - ” he swallows heavily, waits until his voice stops wavering. “I thought we were ok, ‘cos we didn’t fight, not like my parents did before – before my mother left.”

“I was too tired to fight with you”, you say simply. 

He nods once, jerkily. “I know – I know that now. When you disappeared that day, I didn’t know what to do. I went to your mom’s place and she reamed me out, screamed at me in front of the neighbours. I took the kids back, and it made me realise how fucking hard it was for you to do it all alone.” He inhales, closing his eyes as if the memory aches. “I know it’s late but I’ve changed, I swear. The girls need you. I need you. I’ll do anything as long as you stay.”

His fingers are freezing, but you do not pull away. Not when the desperation reflected in his irises makes your heart lurch in pain.

“It was hard”, you confess, and he shudders, struck in the chest by your honesty. “It was so hard, Tetsuro. You hurt me so damn much that I think I became numb to the pain. I don’t think I was really functioning for a while. For a long while.”  

“I’m sorry”, he whispers, and you nod shakily. 

“I know”, you reply, reaching out a hand to cup his face, a bittersweet twist to your lips as he melts into your touch. “That’s a chapter of my life, of our marriage that can’t be re-written. We can’t rewind that. But the past few months have been so different. I – you’ve shown me you’ve changed. And I think –“

You fall silent. 

He prompts you. “Dearest?” 

You recall the glimmer of light in your daughters’ eyes every morning when he takes their hands to walks them to school. You hear the echoes of their laughter, the lilt in their sweet voices every night when they welcome him home. You think of the tea parties he throws, the blanket forts he builds, the frilly pink apron he wears without shame and the bedtime stories he weaves every night.

“I think”, you say, with a smile that reminds him of the rising sun. “I think we can make this work again.” 

He stares at you until the weight of your words dawns upon him, and he surges forward to fold you into his arms. 

“Thank you”, he whispers into the shell of your ear. “I won’t fuck this up again, I promise.” 

“Don’t thank me, you silly man”, you nuzzle into his neck sleepily, draping your arms around his waist. “Thank yourself for making me believe in you.”

He laughs wetly, cradling you close as you fall asleep against his chest, soothed by his heartbeat and the tenderness in his gaze.  

Fumiko wakes you up unceremoniously before the sun even rises by climbing into your lap, and you open your eyes to Aiko pouting, hands on hips, demanding to know what’s for breakfast, and dada, dada, make a ham sandwich, pretty please with a cherry on the top. 

“You guys are little monsters”, Kuroo teases with dancing eyes. “Can’t even give your papa a break to snuggle up to your mama.” 

The girls shriek in dismay. “Don’t be mean”, you admonish him gently. 

He mock sniffs. “I’m cranky in the mornings unless I get a morning kiss.”

Aiko and Fumiko crowd the sofa, clamouring to give their papa a kiss, but he stalls them with an imperious wave of his hand. 

“This morning, only a kiss from your mama can chase my crankiness away”. His tone is teasing, but his shoulders remain tense.  

“Nonsense. You make it sound as if kisses contain caffeine”, you scold, swatting his arm lightly as the girls giggle. 

“Yours do!” he protests, and you roll your eyes as you press your lips to the corner of his lips, laughing when he puffs out his chest and declares his day can now start, that everything’ll be as right as rain.

Some days are full of sunshine, whilst others are full of rain. That’s life – but it’s bearable, enjoyable even, now that you and Kuroo face each day together, thanking the sun when it shines, and splashing through puddles on rainy days. 

Things recalibrate. 

The mornings are his domain now – he’s a master at concocting the most random breakfast items to satisfy your finnicky daughters. Aiko sniffs when she informs you that she’d prefer her papa to braid her hair, thank you very much, and when you shoot a look of death at Kuroo, he can’t even keep his face straight, his trademark hyena laugh erupting from his chest. 

You cook dinner in the evenings, appreciating the times when he can join you at the table, not counting the nights he can’t against him because you know he’s trying his best. The girls clamour for his stories every night, laughing when he teasingly scolds them for yanking on his tie, demanding goodnight kisses from both him and you. 

Now you force Kuroo to take some time to himself, shoo him off for lunches with Kenma, get-togethers with his Nekoma schoolmates. “I know you can manage it”, you tell him archly, “but you need breaks  so you don’t burn out, or worse – you’ll lose your hair and we don’t want that”. When he opens and closes his mouth without a smart retort, you smirk. You get your way. 

Both of you organise parties and playdates, inviting your shared friends – Kenma, of course, is a frequent guest, Bokuto, who brings along Akaashi and his sweet tempered little son (who Aiko always manages to pick a fight with, much to Kuroo’s amusement). You host Kai, who always brings offerings of flowers from his garden, Yaku, when he’s in town with his daughter, son and alarmingly fat cat. The adults congregate in the kitchen with food and alcohol, cracking good natured jokes at Kuroo and his frilly pink apron, watching the children cause a ruckus in the living room. 

But you cherish the quiet moments you share with Kuroo at night when the children are asleep in bed. The chats you have whilst soaking in a hot bath about your day at work, the snippets of stories he shares about his boss, his crazy colleagues, the warmth of his arm around you as you stay up to clear emails late into the night, the heated kisses he presses to the nape of your neck to distract you when he thinks you’re working too hard. 

It’s a good life. You’re happy, and so is he. 

A year slips by. 

The seasons come full circle. You return to the ryokan, finding peace in soaking yourself in steaming pools, watching the bamboo sway, the sun rise over Mt. Fuji. But this time, you’re not alone. You persuade Kuroo that he, too, needs a break - deserves one, truly. So you leave the girls with your mother and take the bullet train down to Hakone. 

He shoots you a smirk as you both emerge from the private bath he’d insisted on booking. You swat at him, pulling your yukata higher up your neck, scowling as he winds an arm around your waist to press you into his side. 

“You couldn’t wait til we got back to our room?” you hiss at him. 

He chuckles lowly in response. “Didn’t hear you complaining”, he retorts. 

“We were in an onsen, Tetsuro!” 

“A private one”, he says with a waggle of his eyebrows, laughing aloud when you try and fail to slap your hand over his mouth. “What d’you think I was going to do with my lovely wife? I’m not a monk, sweetheart”

You try your best to shush him, but his cackling manages to capture the attention of everyone in the lift.  

“What a happy couple”, an old lady remarks, within your earshot. “They must be newly married” 

You think she must be a little senile. Or a little blind. 

Neither of you are in your first flush of youth anymore - there are streaks of grey in Tetsuro’s mop of hair, extra weight in your hips and lines in your faces. No one could conceivably mistake you for a pair of newlyweds.

“Nah”, Kuroo drawls easily into your ear. “Just your regular old, married couple.”

You don’t speak until you’re safely in your room. 

“A regular, old, happily married couple”, you say, as he hands you a cup of tea. “That obaa-san got that part right at least.”

Kuroo chokes on the lump of emotion in his throat as you serenely sip your tea. 

The tea tastes bitter (as it always does), but the kisses that follow are so very, very sweet. 

[earlgreydream]

lover of mine.

| winter soldier!bucky barnes x reader | angst | fluff |

lover of mine.

/When I take a look at my life/And all of my crimes/You're the only thing that I think I got right//I watched the world fall from your eyes/All my regrets/And things you can't forget/Light them all up/Kiss them goodbye/

“You loved him once. You can love him again.”

“I never stopped loving him. That’s what you don’t understand.” 

The fellow Avengers had watched the world fall from your eyes, the joy draining from you with every headline that involved Bucky. Not only had he changed, but you had too. You became completely enthralled with your missions, pouring every waking second into the Avengers. Because if you thought about anything else, you would break. 

Steve begged you to take breaks, begged you to take time off. You insisted you were fine, never wanting to be left alone with your thoughts. You didn’t want to think about the newsreels of Bucky-- the winter soldier-- wielding machine guns. 

You couldn’t bear to see the love of your life slaughtering people.

“I’m not picking up Parker from school... He’s in high school, he doesn’t need me to pick him up! He can take the subway! Or use his webs!” You snapped at Stark, who stared at you impatiently.

“You need to rest. This is how you’re filling your afternoon.” Stark was insistent, and you shook your head, grabbing the keys to a Tesla. 

“Steve?”

“Go, Y/N.”

You sighed and went down to the garage, driving uptown to get the teenager from school. You parked outside of the high school, leaning against the hood of your car while you waited. 

You never got used to the modernity. You were like Steve and Bucky. You’d been alive in the 40s, and frozen like they were. Luckily, you’d fallen to S.H.I.E.L.D. instead of Hydra. You’d managed to stay safe with Steve, and become an Avenger, not suffering Bucky’s fate. 

Before the war, you and Bucky had been married. The memories in your mind of dancing in the kitchen, jazz bars, drive-ins, and reading the Hobbit when it came out, were all raw. Before he was deployed, there was a wedding.

You’d been surrounded by flowers and your friends, celebrating the love of your life. Steve was the best man. You’d left the ceremony with Bucky in his yellow vintage car, going to the coast for your honeymoon. 

You remembered the beach house, and running in the sand with your young husband. It was perfect back then, before Hydra got their hands on him. He was loving and gentle, the kind of man who danced with you in the kitchen and brought you flowers. 

You remembered when he’d gone off to war. You wore his dog tags, and hung a flag in your window. You’d kissed him goodbye, tears blinding you as you tried to focus on the silver eyes that were full of adoration and love. You remembered when Steve came back, and Bucky didn’t. 

There were so many memories of crying in Steve’s arms, and falling asleep with him beside you. Even when you’d moved to Stark Tower with him, even after becoming an avenger decades later, you still slept beside him. He’d listened to you sob for Bucky a million times; Steve had witnessed a lifetime of your heartbreak. 

You remembered waking up from being frozen, and finding out who James Buchanan Barnes had become. 

“Y/N?!” Parker’s cheerful voice snapped you out of your thoughts as he came bounding down the stairs of the high school. 

“Hey kiddo. Stark sent me to get you.” You stood up off the car and hugged him. He waved goodbye to his friends and got in the passenger seat. He immediately started chattering, and you welcomed it, appreciating the distraction from the deafening silence. That was why you were fond of Parker, he was easy to be around, and he was always happy to fill the silence.

“Let’s go to Starbucks!” He announced as the two of you drove back to the tower.

“Are you joking?”

“No! It’s on me.”

“It’s on Stark,” you smirked, and Parker broke out into a wide grin.

You and Peter walked into Stark Tower a half hour later, chattering and laughing. Parker was the only one of the Avengers who cheered you up, and he never made you feel bad for not wanting to talk about Bucky. He was bubbly and warm, and always made you laugh. You were giggling at a story from his school as you went upstairs to the penthouse, unaware of what you were walking1 into.

You nearly crashed into him, stopping dead in your tracks.

“Y/N!” The voice was so familiar, and yet, you thought you’d never hear it again.

You were suffocating. The air was ripped from your lungs, and you couldn’t breathe. It felt like the earth was swaying underneath you, everything shattered. 

Steve ran to you as you passed out, and Parker caught you with a shout before you hit the floor. He knelt on the marble, your head in his lap, and Steve shouted for Banner, who came running to follow you to his medical lab.

“Stevie, what’s wrong with her?!” Bucky demanded, and everyone looked at him. 

“It’s the shock of seeing you.” Steve admitted, and Bucky looked like he was going to break. 

“I’m better now, I’m no longer the...” he couldn’t even say it, his eyes anxious and frightened.

Bucky had spent months trying to free himself of Hydra’s psychological bonds. He was free now, motivated by the thought of coming home to you. Bucky had waited years. Now, he was home, and the second he said your name and laid eyes on him, you’d panicked and blacked out.

Steve attempted to comfort him, and even Parker, the boy he didn’t know. They tried to explain to Bucky that you were just in shock, but his heart broke. 

“I took care of her, Buck. She still loves you, she always has. Just give her some time. Seeing you like that...”

“I know,” Bucky breathed. 

Everyone left Bucky alone with you, giving you privacy. He sat beside the bed where you were asleep, Banner assuring everyone that you were fine, you had only fainted.

He watched you. Bucky hadn’t watched you sleep like this since the 1940s.

He was suddenly back, leaning in the doorway, the soft light pouring behind him as he drank a cup of coffee, taking in the sight of his sweet wife sleeping before he went to work. You’d glow in the golden light of the morning, your face peaceful and serene. It was so intimate back then.

Bucky sat up as you stirred, familiar eyes slowly opening. You didn’t know where you were at first, your mind running through events. You’d picked Parker up from school, stopped for a snack, and came back to the tower. And seen your husband.

You sat up suddenly, and he put his arms out, one made of vibranium. His eyes were soft, full of love, not the empty steel you’d seen on the news. Your name fell from his lips, desperate and anxious.

You jerked away at first, startled by the reality of what was happening. You were frightened, alone in the room with your husband. You scrambled back against the headboard, trying to put distance between you and his outstretched hands.

You were about to scream when you realized he looked just as frightened as you. You slowly sank back against the headboard, slowing your breathing as you stared at him.

“James?”

“It’s me, doll. I’m home.”

You didn’t know how long the silence lasted, but it felt like hours. The two of you stared at each other, and when you finally decided he wasn’t going to hurt you, you gingerly moved toward him.

“I’m free from them. It’s just me, it’s not the winter soldier anymore,” Bucky’s voice was soft, and you blinked back tears.

“It can’t be you. You were gone.” Your voice trembled as you spoke.

“I’m back now. I came back for you. I’m never going to hurt you, or anyone else again.”

“James-”

“I’m not a killer anymore.”

The plea broke your heart, the shattered boy begging you to believe him, begging you to take him back. Tears slid down his cheeks, terrified of your reaction.

“James, I love you.”

“I love you, Y/N.”

Bucky felt like he’d waited a million years to say it, and the words spread through you, filling your empty soul.

You wanted to fall into his arms, to hold him close and feel him again. You wanted all of it to happen instantly, but that’s not how it was. You needed time, time to adjust, and time to trust him again before you returned to your husband fully.

You reached out to touch his arm, and he noticed the wedding ring wasn’t around your finger. His eyes flitted up to yours, and you pulled the chain from around your neck that hid beneath your shirt. It held his dog tags, and your wedding ring. Relief flooded Bucky, and you offered a the slightest hint of a smile.

“What happened?” You asked, cautiously running your fingers along the vibranium.

“I lost my arm when I fell from the train. Steve told you?”

“A bit... you fell, he didn’t know what happened after.”

“Can I touch you?” Bucky spoke gently, understanding your hesitation and being patient.

You nodded, and his hand slowly lifted to your face, fingers brushing over the curves of your skin. You laid your hand over his, kissing the inside of his wrist. He cried softly, a smile crossing his face as he felt you, promising it wasn’t a dream.

“Bucky, we need you for a meeting.” Stark leaned into the bedroom, hours later.

“Stark, now?”

“I’m sorry. Y/N will be here when you get back.”

“I’ll wait for you.” You promised, and he nodded, the words falling heavy between you.

Bucky followed Stark out, and you sat on the bed, processing the day. Bucky had quietly explained the Hydra brainwashing, about how he was held captive in his own mind. You believed him, but it would always be hard to shake those memories of him on the news.

“Hey, we didn’t mean to just drop this on you.” Steve came inside, sitting down on the mattress.

“You couldn’t have kept from me that my husband was suddenly free and home. Is he really, though? It is him? He won’t kill me in my sleep?” You asked, and Steve gave you a sad smile.

“It is. He’s traumatized, he won’t be the same as before the war. But it’s not the winter soldier, it’s Bucky.” 

You knew it was true. You knew the man before you, his heart and his soul, and you were going to grow to know his mind again.

You were curled up in bed, Steve beside you on the other side of the large mattress. 

“Stevie? Y/N?” you heard a soft voice from the doorway, and you sat up in the dark. You had trouble sleeping, and you were awake when he came in during the middle of the night.

“Bucky?” 

“I can’t sleep.”

“Come here,” you whispered, moving over in bed, closer to Steve, who was waking from the disturbance. You didn’t fear Bucky, especially not when he looked so frightened and upset.

You lifted the blanket, and Bucky got in on the other side of the bed. You pulled him to you, silently wrapping your arms around him. You felt Steve against your back, leaning over to place his hand on Bucky’s arm, smoothing over the skin slowly to comfort him. 

“You’re okay now, it’s over, my love,” you whispered, settling between the warm bodies.

Your head rested on Bucky’s chest, and you realized how long you’d spent waiting for it. You felt his lips press a kiss to the top of your head, and Steve bury his face into the back of your neck, needing to be close.

[theloveoftoms]

Early Morning - Tom Cruise x Reader One shot

A/N: I haven't wrote one for Tom in a little while, enjoy babes! I also didn't proof read this, so enjoy my raw material.  xxx - m 

Laying on your side in bed, you could hear your boyfriend Tom shuffle to his feet and over to the kitchen. You're shared, three bedroom apartment, was spacious at times, but on mornings like these when Tom had to get ready for an early morning flight, it indeed was not. 

You heard the closet doors open and shut, and then the bathroom light flicked on, and Tom swiftly shut the door - still trying not to wake you. You listened, barely awake, to the sound of the shower. You could hear the water splashing against the subway tile, and you could hear a sound of pleasure escape from Tom’s mouth. The new shower the two of you had installed last month, sure did feel lovely in the morning. 

You thought about going back to sleep, but you figured that since you were up, you could make some coffee and surprise your boyfriend with a glass once he finished in the shower. So, you did just that. 

You rose to your feet, threw on your tan ugg slippers and ventured into the kitchen. Passing by the hall mirror, you smiled at your reflection of you in your sleep shorts and one of Tom’s oversized tees. You truly were happy in life. You had a great job, a great boyfriend, and overall a great life. This is all you had ever wanted, and it made you very satisfied that you lived up to your younger self’s hopes of the future. 

In the kitchen, you popped a k-pod in the keurig, and watched the heavenly coffee fill up the black coffee mug. After the machine was finished its cycle, you shuffled back over to the bedroom and set the mug on Tom’s night stand. Just as you did so, you heard the shower faucet turn off. You turned on the bedroom lamp and took a set on Tom’s side of the bed, which was just adjacent to the bathroom. 

The door peeled back, revealing a warm cloud of steam. Your boyfriend Tom, was standing there with a white towel drawn around his waist. His hair was wet from the shower, and there were beads of water on his well-sculpted chest. 

You stood to your feet with a grin on your face, “Morning handsome,” you said, putting your arms around Tom’s torso. Tom smiled into you as he planted a kiss on your cheek. “Sorry that I woke you,” he said, looking helplessly into your eyes. 

You stretched up on your tippy toes and planted a kiss on Tom’s lips. “I was glad you did, I wanted to see you before your trip.” 

Today, tom was flying to Milan to work on a two week filming shoot. Tom had been away like this before, for both longer and shorter durations. You missed him dearly when he was gone, but you looked forward to his flower deliveries and nightly face time calls. 

You moved your hands onto Tom’s chest, tracing your finger along the lines of his hard earned muscles. As you were doing so, Tom brought his lips down to yours, and placed his warm hands on the small of your back. There, in your shared bedroom, the two of you stood, kissing the love of your life. 

[waitimcomingtoo]

Dummy

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: Peter is the only one of the Avengers who doesn’t tease you for being a little slow 

Masterlist

Now you weren’t exactly dumb.

You were just a little slow.

When you joined the Avengers last year, the team learned pretty quickly that your mind moved at a different pace than everyone else. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing and it didn’t keep you from doing your job, it just meant you were the butt of most of the jokes. Every time one of your blunders happened, your intelligence would be mocked in some way. You knew it was all in good fun, but it hurt to it feelings every now and then. The only person who never poked fun at you was Peter. And for that reason, he was your favorite on the team.

“How are there 23 minutes left in this movie and I still don’t know any of the characters names?” Steve wondered as you all sat in the couch in Stark Towers, watching a movie on a particularly rainy afternoon.

“I think the main kids name is Phoenix. That’s all I got though.” Sam shook his head, just as confused as Steve.

“The dogs name is Benson.” Bucky mumbled quietly.

“Who names their kid Phoenix?” Peter wondered out loud as he shoveled popcorn into his mouth. The two of you were tucked into the corner of the couch, sharing a blanket and bowl of popcorn. You looked at him like he was crazy when you heard his question.

“Ummm, Joaquin Phoenix’s parents.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. You turned your attention back to the movie as a silence settled in the room. You felt everyone’s eyes on you after a minute and looked around to see everyone staring at you with a dumbfounded expression.

“What?” You asked shyly, shrinking down a little in your seat in discomfort.

“That’s his last name.” Sam stated, chuckling a little under his breath. You realized your mistake and felt your face heat up.

“Oh.” You mumbled, your voice getting drowned out as the rest of the Avengers laughed at your expense.

“Did she really just say that?” Nat looked at the group with a playful smile. Everyone, excluding Peter, nodded as their laughter died down.

“Oh my God.” Steve chuckled. “That’s so stupid.”

There was that word again.

He didn’t mean it maliciously. Steve was the kinda of guy who ushered spiders into a magazine so he could let them outside. And yet, it still stung when he said that word.

Stupid.

You smiled sheepishly and tried to focus on the movie, snuggling closer to Peters side until it ended. You were fully aware that he was the only one who didn’t laugh, and you loved him that.

And maybe you loved him for a few other reasons too.

~

“Alright. Who has money for the subway?” Sam asked the group as he patted his empty pockets. You were on another late night trip to get cookies from a specific shop in Times Square, leaving without Tony’s knowledge. Everyones hands went to their pockets and collectively made a face.

“Not me.” Rhodey shrugged.

“I don’t have any.” Bruce added.

“I don’t even have pockets.” Nat realized.

“I have gum.” Peter proudly produced a silver wrapper from his pocket. “Oh wait, it’s just a wrapper.”

“You’re telling me we’re earth’s mightiest heroes and we’re broke?” Sam shook his head is disdain.

“I gave my last dollar to a guy in the subway for playing music.” Peter defended himself.

“What was he playing?” You asked him as you tiredly leaned against his arm.

“A mandolin.” Peter answered, making your face scrunch up.

“That’s a language.” You laughed at him slightly, feeling empowered by having the upper hand. Everyone looked at you and a few of them snorted.

“Mandarin is a language.” Bruce said gently, not wanting to embarrass you further. “Not mandolin.” 

“What?” You blinked in confusion and looked to Peter for answers.

“A mandolin is an instrument, dummy.” Sam chortled. You smiled tightly as the group laughed at your mistake, looking down to hide your blush.

“Oh. Sorry. My bad.” You laughed shyly as you tucked your hair behind your ear and pretending to read a nearby sign.

“That’s okay.” Peter spoke up in your defense. “They sound really similar. Plus like, French, French Horn. Who knows what’s going on?”

“Yeah.” Bucky said softly. “Or like, bra’s aren’t pointy anymore.”

Bruce nodded like it made perfect sense and Sam just shook his head as he texted.

“What?” You whispered to Peter, not knowing what he meant.

“He’s from the 1920s. He’s still adjusting.” Peter whispered to you out of the corner of his mouth before looking at Bucky. “That’s the spirit. Kind of.”

“FRIDAY is sending a car.” Sam informed the group. “This is never happening again. The cookies aren’t that good.”

“They’re pretty good.” Rhodey shrugged, but wanting the late Nate tradition to end. Sam looked at him for a moment before breaking into a smile.

“Hell yeah they are. Let’s do this again tomorrow.”

~

Bruce found you in the lab the next day with a pin between your teeth and a pencil behind your ear. Papers with drawings of suits were scattered around the table as you measured a piece of black fabric.

“What are you doing?” Bruce wondered as he took a seat across from you. You glanced up at him before marking a dot on the fabric.

“Mr. Stark asked me to help him with the new suits. I’m trying to make a fabric template for Nat’s gloves.” You told him as you smoothed the fabric out.

“Is it hard?” He asked, watching you intently as you worked.

“Not really.” You shrugged and took a step back to examine your work. “Okay. How many holes do we need? 1,2,3,4,5.” You counted your fingers. “Okay. Five holes.”

You sat back down and put five dots where her fingers would be to mark where you had to cut. You heard a slight chuckle from Bruce and looked up at him curiously.

“Did you just count your fingers?” He asked slowly, wanting to make sure he saw what he thought he had. “To know how many fingers Nat has?”

Your face burned when you realized how dumb you looked, in front of a scientific genius no less.

“Oh, Uh, yeah.” You stammered, feeling very insecure with him watching you now. You moved slower than before and second guessed moves you’d already made a hundred times. Bruce sensed your discomfort and got out of his seat, tapping the table twice as he thought.

“Have you ever heard the expression “the lights are on but nobody’s home’?” He asked you and you were grateful he changed the subject.

“Yeah, I think I have.” You smiled, proud of yourself for knowing something.

“It reminds me of you.” Bruce said so politely that you didn’t realize it was an insult at first. He left the lab to find Tony, leaving you feeling embarrassed and a little hurt. Everyone knew Bruce could hurt you ten times worse with his words than the Hulk could with his fists, you’d just never been his target before. You slumped down in your seat and continued making the gloves, your mood significantly dampened from before he came in the room.

~

You walked into the kitchen the next morning, sleepily rubbing your eyes. You pressed a chaste kiss on Peters shoulder as you passed him, also more affectionate to your best friend when you were half asleep. You smiled at Rhodey, who was seated at the bar and skimming through a newspaper.

“Did you eat yet?” You asked him through a yawn as you got out yogurt and fruit for yourself.

“No. I needed my coffee first.” He smiled sleepily at you and held up his mug.

“Oh, you mean your sugar with a spoonful of coffee?” You teased him. “Yeah, it’s good you got that out of the way.”

“I prefer it this way. The sugar wakes me up.” Peter defended his drink as he took a sip.

“That’s what the caffeine is supposed to do, mi amor.” You laughed as you ruffled his bed head ridden hair. He was about to make a comeback when his stomach rumbles loudly.

“Someone’s hungry.” You remarked. “Do you want eggs?”

“No thanks.” Peter shook his head. “I can’t eat eggs alone.”

“Well I’m here. And Rhodey’s right there, so you’re not alone.” You told him. “And I can grab Steve and Bucky. They’re just in the other room.”

Rhodey looked up from his newspaper with raised eyebrows and looked at Peter. Peter set his mug down and made a face at Rhodey that told him not to say anything. You looked between the two of them in confusion as you wondered what was going on.

“I meant alone as in without toast, sweetness.” Peter said gently, not wanting you to feel dumb for misunderstanding. “But I am glad you’re here.”

“Oh.” You faked a smile and shrugged like it was no big deal. Peter had handled the situation with ease and you didn’t feel as embarrassed as you normally would. That is until…

“You know, Y/n, it’s a good thing you’re pretty.” Rhodey nodded before going back to his newspaper. You froze with your spoonful of yogurt midway to your mouth and looked at him. He didn’t actually call you dumb, but it was implied. You looked at Peter to see if he was thinking the same thing, but his face had nothing but kindness on it.

“You are pretty.” He agreed with Rhodey. “But you’re a lot of other things too.”

You cracked a smile and rubbed his back for a moment in appreciation.

“Thanks Peter.” You said softly and went back to your breakfast. Not wanting to worry him, you ignored the way Rhodey’s comment made you feel and tried to push it from your mind. But no hard you tried to focus on other things, you had one thought prodding at the back of your head.

You were dumb.

~

A week went by without anyone poking fun at your intelligence. You had a sneaking suspicion Peter had something to do with the lack of comments, but you said nothing. It was nice to have a break from all the teasing and it made hanging out with the team more enjoyable. You all lingered around the kitchen one day, eating all different kinds of lunch when Tony came in the room.

“Eat up, funky bunch.” He clapped his hands. “We have a mission in Alaska to train for and I need all hands on deck. Cap, do you think you can teach Peter that spinny thingy you do?”

“I can try.” Steve looked at Peter and nodded.

“Great. I’m getting a manicure. I’ll be back around noon.” Tony informed you all.

“Wait, I thought you said all hands on deck.” You tilted your head at him.

“I did. Which I why I have to make sure my hands look the best.” Tony waved flirtatiously, wiggling his fingers around like a teenage girl. He smirked as his action was met with some eye rolls and a few chuckles before leaving the room.

“I can’t believe we’re going to Alaska.” Peter nudged you excitedly and you smiled with glee.

“Is Alaska the same as the North Pole? Or am I thinking of Antarctica?” Sam wondered out loud.

“No. The North Pole is all the way at the top. Alaska is below California. Like by Texas.” You said confidently, proud that you knew information that someone else didn’t. Your pride quickly dissipated when you saw the teams faces twist in amusement.

“Wait a minute.” Steve looked at you like you were joking. You shrugged, letting him know you weren’t. Sam burst out laughing and clapped his hands as the rest of the team began to laugh.

“Absolutely not.” Sam grinned as he wiped a tear from his eye.

“Yes it is.” You insisted. “Look at any US map. It’s on the bottom by Hawaii.”

You were getting angry now. You knew you were right this time and they were still teasing you.

“No.” Bucky shook his head is dismissal. “No.”

“Alaska is below California on every map I’ve ever seen. You’re telling me I’m wrong?” You our your hand on your hip and stared at them.

“100%. I am 100% telling you you’re wrong.” Sam said between his laughter. Peter came to your side and showed you a picture of a map on his phone.

“Alaska is US territory but it’s not connected to the rest of the states. They just put it below California on maps to show it’s a part of the US. Thats not actually where it’s located.” He said quietly. You looked at the map for a few seconds before you realized he was right. And if he was right…

You were wrong.

“Oh.” You smiled apologetically and averted your eyes. “Oops.”

You turned around and pretending to clean up the kitchen to hide your searing blush. Your fingers clenched around your sponge when you heard the teasing laughter from behind you.

“Sometimes I wonder how you made it out of high school.” Steve joked as he threw out the crusts of his sandwich. The comment stung you and you began to scrub the counter faster so you could leave the room sooner. Peter could see your shoulders tense and put a reassuring hand on your back. You gave him a tight lipped smiled before putting your dish in the sink.

“I’m still wondering how she made it out of first grade.” Nat teased you and she poked your side.

“I can’t believe she made it out of the womb in the first place with nobody telling her where to go.” Sam said, making everyone laugh loudly. You abruptly threw a dish in the sink, making everyone go silent. You tuned around slowly and faked a smile.

“Haha. Yeah.” You forced a laugh. “I’ll catch you guys later.”

You swiftly left the room before anyone could catch your tears. You felt stupid for even getting upset over it, but their words hurt. Feeling like you were always the dumbest person in the room was taking a toll on you, especially when you weren’t the only one who felt that way. Peter watched you leave with sympathetic eyes, feeling his own frustration bubble at the sound of the team laughing at you. He thought they had listened the first time he told them to stop making fun of you, but they clearly hadn’t. After seeing the pained look on your face, Peter made a decision.

It was never going to happen again.

~

“Ugh. I’m never gonna get this right.” Peter groaned as he messed up the move Steve was trying to teach him once again.

“You’re getting too much inside your head. Just let it happen naturally.” Steve instructed as he resumed his stance. Peter tried the move again, wiping out and landing on his side with a thud. You watched him out of the corner of your eye as you spared with Nat.

“I can’t.” Peter got up and rubbed his arm. “I can’t do it.”

Steve nodded, like he was accepting Peters defeat. You stopped sparing and looked at Peter.

“Yes you can. Come on, Peter.” You encouraged him. “Everyone told Van Gogh that he couldn’t be an artist because he only had one ear but he did it anyway.”

The room feel silent, as it often did when you spoke, and everyone looked down.

“Oh dear Lord.” Rhodey sighed and hung his head and he snickered. You could see everyone else fighting back laughter or cracking a smile, yet saying nothing.

“What?” You crossed your arms in annoyance, looming to Peter for help.

“He chopped his ear off after becoming an artist.” Peter said kindly. “He wasn’t born without one.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but Tony beat you to it.

“Speaking of ears, do you think of you shone a light in one of Y/n’s ears, it would come out the other ear?” Tony quipped, making everyone laugh. The tips of your ears burned as that feeling of stupidity sunk in again. You undid the Velcro on your boxing gloves and pretended to wipe sweat from your face as you rushed to the bin where the gloves went. You kept your back to the group and pretending to be putting your gloves away when you were really concealing your pained expression.

“Yes.” Nat jeered. “Yes I do.”

Your shoulders slumped with exhaustion as you turned around, making every effort to keep your face neutral. Your face didn’t give away any signs of sadness, but your knuckles turning white from how hard you were gripping the bin gave your true feelings away. Peter noticed this and felt his jaw clench. If you weren’t gonna tell them to stop, he was.

“Leave her alone, guys.” He commanded the crowd before looking at you. “Thanks for the encouragement, Y/n. I’m gonna keep trying.”

“It’s fine.” You nodded curtly. “I’m gonna hit the showers. I’ll see you guys at dinner.”

You walked out of the gym, pausing in place when you heard Sams voice.

“Hit the showers?” He laughed. “We just started.”

“Shhh. Don’t confuse the poor girl any further.” Bruce joked back. You looked back at the gym with your eyebrows knit together, taking a quiet step closer to hear what they were saying about you without you there.

“She’s probably like, ‘whats this magic closet that makes rain?’” Rhodey imitated your voice, making you sound as dense as possible.

“Knock it off guys. It’s not funny.” Peter snapped, but the teasing continued.

“Or like, ‘this shampoo says it adds volume, but I used it and I can’t hear any louder than before’.” Tony mocked you, skipping around a little like a child. Your face contorted in misery as they made fun of you. You knew who they really were, and they were good people. They didn’t intend to hurt your feelings, they were only joking around like they did with everyone. Steve was teased all the time for his old fashioned dialect and no one lets Tony live down the kimono incident. Still, all their insults and mockery cut you like a knife.

“Ahh, I love that girl.” Nat shook her head with a smile. “She’s so dumb.”

“She may be slow, but she’s entertaining as hell.” Sam nodded in agreement.

“I said knock it off.” Peter repeated, getting a reaction this time.

“Aw. Peters mad because we’re teasing his girlfriend.” Nat pouted and pinched Peters cheek. She quickly realized how wholesome she was being and punched Bucky in the face to maintain her lethal assassin persona.

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Peter grumbled. Now that you were out of the room, he was the next target.

“He’s right. Hey, maybe that’s why you guys haven’t gotten together yet.” Rhodey shrugged. “She’s too stupid to realize you’re in love with her.”

That was all you had to hear. You ran towards your with tears running down your face. Thanks to Peters advanced heating, he heard every heavy footstep.

“Okay. Maybe she is a little slow.” Peter shook his head in disdain at the team. “But you guys are idiots.”

~

You were quiet the entire way to Alaska, keeping to yourself and silently looking out the window. Peter attempted to talk to you once or twice, but he could tell you wanted to be alone. The Avengers completed the mission within a few hours with minor damage to the area. Peter focused on his job but found himself looking for you every now and then, being as you usually stayed together during missions. He didn’t see you anywhere and assumed you were doing your own thing on the other side of the field. He heart rest assured when he saw you boarding the jet, still looking reserved and aloof from the rest of the team. You took a seat by the window and rested your chin on your hand, looking out at the bleak landscape in front of you as the jet took off. Peter didn’t engage in small talk with the rest of the team and wistfully stared at you instead, silently willing you to cheer up.

“I think that went pretty well.” Rhodey nodded and the team agreed. “But where were you the whole time, Y/n? Picking daisies?”

Peter held his breath as you slowly turned around. You gave Rhodey a frigid smile and shook your head.

“We came during a blizzard so I used my powers to create a heated force field around the area we were in to prevent frostbite and give you guys and easier time seeing in the snow. We were also at a higher altitude than any of us are used to so I kept the air pressure to sea level standard.” You said simply. “And I assumed there would be smoke from the battle so I rounded up the nearby animals and made a separate for field around them to protect their lungs.”

The room went silent, something you were used to at this point. But instead of everyone falling silent because they were laughing at you, they were impressed.

“Oh.” Rhodey blinked in surprise, not expecting the answer he was given.

“I also picked this flower.” You smiled proudly as you produced a Forget Me Not from your lap. Peter couldn’t keep the grin from breaking through on his face. You were the center of attention once again, but in a good way this time. Everyone was pleasantly surprised with what you had done and it showed.

“I didn’t think about the altitude.” Nat realized.

“I had no idea there was a blizzard.” Steve added, looking dumbfounded.

“Because I kept you from knowing.” You shrugged. “I wanted you guys to focus on the mission.”

“I mean, I knew. I just didn’t tell you guys because I was so distracted by my buffed and polished nails.” Tony twiddled his fingers again, showing off his freshly manicured nails. You all laughed, breaking the tension in the jet.

“Well look at that.” Sam looked impressed. “Y/n knew something we didn’t.”

It was almost a compliment, but it still made you feel insecure. You didn’t want it to be this mind boggling every time you did something useful.

“Thanks, Y/n. That was really smart.” Peter said softly as he patted your knee. You put your hand over his and squeezed it. It was the first time someone called your smart, and it made you feel good.

“It was really smart.” Sam said skeptically. He stared at you for a moment before poking your side.

“What are you doing?” You swatted his hand away.

“Just making sure you’re still in there.” He eyed you suspiciously. Peter could sense the attention was making you uncomfortable and changed the subject.

“Are we almost home?” He asked Tony before peering out the window. The flight was a little over 7 hours on a normal plane, but the Stark jet was much quicker. The flight would only take a few hours, but Peter was not known for being patient.

“Yes, Peter. We are almost back at the tower. You can get your diaper changed and your bottle as soon as we get back.” Tony sassed him, making him shrink in his seat. Your body language had completely changed and your were now sitting straight, facing the group. Peter was glad you were feeling better and didn’t even mind Tony’s comment.

“Guys, let’s be civil. We’re all tired. We all want to get home.” You said calmly. “Let’s just focus on how pretty the sky looks tonight. Isn’t is pretty, Peter?”

He gazed at your profile as you looked out the window at the stars, admiring how pretty you looked from the side.

“Yeah. It’s beautiful.” He conceded without ever taking his eyes off you. You shot him a smile before looking straight ahead at the dashboard.

“Wow, the moon is huge!” You pointed time a large yellow crescent that could be seen through the window.

“That’s literally the reflection of my banana on the windshield.” Tony deadpanned. He may have been right, but it still looked pretty.

“Should we make a wish?” You asked Peter, ignoring Tony’s comment.

“On the banana?” He asked.

“Yes.” You nodded. “On the banana.”

“Why?” Rhodey asked. “It’s not like people wish on the moon.”

“It feels like we should.” You said with confidence.

“Yep. She’s still in there.” Sam chuckled. And just like that, your confidence receded.

“I hate it here.” Bucky sighed heavily and tuned out of the conversation.

“It must be so peaceful being you, Y/n.” Tony remarked.

“Why do you say that?” You wondered.

“Because instead of thinking about your problems and mistrials, you simply don’t think at all.” Tony said suavely. In only a better for minutes, you’d gone from being the hero to the laughing stock of the group. The sly comments and taunting laughter made you feel like you should stop opening your mouth entirely. You faked a smile and turned back towards the window, tuning out the rest of the way home. Peter chewed his lip as he stared at you, feeling useless to helping you out. The team just wouldn’t let up, no matter how many times he told them to stop. Knowing you weren’t in the mood to talk, he scooted closer to you and put a comforting hand on your back. You smiled warmly at him and rested your head on his shoulder, listening to him point out the constellations the whole way home.

~

The next day, you and Peter were sitting in the balcony, working on some new gadgets for Mr. Stark when Peter made a startling discovery.

“Where’s my right web shooter?” Peter stood up in a panic when he realized it was missing. “I left it right here.”

“Maybe a bird carried it off.” You shrugged as you twisted a tiny screw into Peters left web shooter.

“I’m being serious, Y/n.” Peter stated. “Mr. Stark is going to kill me and turn me into a decorative rug if I lost it.”

“I’m being serious too. We live in New York and I see birds around here all the time.” You told him as you continued your work. “And you know the pigeons here are feral. A bird probably stole it to pay for his child support.”

Peter usually entertained your antics and joined in with his own batch of sarcasm, but he wasn’t in the mood. His web shooter was missing and their were actual stakes involved. Without his web shooter, he couldn’t be Spiderman. And without Spider-Man, he couldn’t be an Avenger.

“Can you be serious for once?“ Peter whined, picking up everything on the table to look under it.

“I’m just saying it’s possible, Peter. You never know.” You insisted as you put your screw driver down to help him look. You began looking in the flower pots on the windowsill that you and Peter had planted. Peter stopped his search for a moment, growing angry with you for wasting time. He didn’t know if you were joking around or genuine believed his web shooter was in the flower pots, but it made him frustrated nonetheless. A combination of his lack of sleep and stress over losing the webshooter manifested into a moment of unchecked rage.

“No, it’s not possible.” He snapped. “A bird didn’t steal my web shooter. God, do you have to be so stupid?” 

 The word hung in the air for a moment, settling in to the both of you. Peters eyes immediately softened, feeling instant regret for what he had said. You stopped trifling through the plants and slowly turned around.

“What?” You asked quietly. Peter tightened his lips into a line and tried to justify what he had said.

“I try to defend you but you make it so hard. Can you help me out a little here and not be so…” He trailed off when he realized he had only made it worse. Your face hardened and you looked disappointed in Peter, which killed him. He would have preferred anger or even sadness, but the disappointment killed him.

“So what?” You shrugged. “Finish your sentence Peter.”

“I didn’t mean that.”

“No, really, go ahead.” You stated coldly. “You got this far. So what, Peter?”

He looked at you for a moment, getting that feeling of wishing you could turn back time just a few seconds to fix a mistake.

“So dumb all the time.” He finished his sentence with an unsteady voice. Your face scrunched up in a pained expression as you sucked in and let out a shaky breath.

“You were the only one who never called me that.” You whimpered before moving past him and going inside. Peter watched you through the open balcony doors as you disappeared into the hallway with a heavy heart. His mouth was open to apologize, but you were long gone. He’d seen you being ridiculed so many times already, and now he was the one doing it. All that talk about it never happening again, only for him to be the reason it happened. Peter couldn’t live with himself for another minute without you knowing how sorry he was. He took a step towards the doorway until he heard a pigeon land on the table. He watched it curiously for a moment as it pecked at the screwdriver you had been using before picking it up with its beak. It flew over to the edge and began to walk along the railing, still keeping the screwdriver in his mouth. Peter followed the pigeon, walking all the way down the balcony to find a large nest in the corner. He watched as it dropped the screwdriver into its nest, right next to his web shooter.

“Holy shit. A bird stole my web shooter.” Peter said in disbelief. Peter watched as baby pigeons poked out from inside the web shooter to greet the other pigeon.

“Holy shit. A bird stole my web shooter for his kids.” Peters eyes widened even more than they already were. Realized struck him and his shoulders slumped.

“She was right.” He mumbled, angry at himself more than ever. “I yelled at her and she was right.”

Peter wasted no time in rescuing his web shooter from the birds, offering them a nice biodegradable coffee cup in its place, and ran to the kitchen to make you a peace offering. He knocked softly on your door and didn’t wait for an answer before going in.

“I made you this cup of tea as an apology.” Peter stiffly held out a mug with an awkward smile on his face. You looked at Peter from your bed, eyes puffy like you had been crying. You stared at each other for a long time, you with a death glare and Peter with his awkward smile. Neither of you said a word as Peter continued to hold out the mug. After two full minute of silence, a bead of sweat ran down Peters face as he looked around nervously, never breaking his smile. You let out an angry sigh and decided to throw him a bone, crossing the room to accept his mug. You looked into the cup for a moment before looking back at Peter.

“This is empty.” You deadpanned.

“I don’t know how to make tea.” Peter whispered, never breaking eye contact.

“I’ve seen you make it.” You snapped.

“I forgot how to do it.” Peters eyes shifted nervously to the side.

“Bucky was in the kitchen, wasn’t he?”

“I know he hates me.” Peter talked over you as you groaned. “I know he does.”

“Just go away.” You tried to close the door but he kept it open.

“No.” Peter said firmly. “I came in here to apologize.”

“You see this?” You held up the mug for a Peter to see. “It’s my cup of care. And look at that” ,you dumped the cup over, “it’s empty.”

Peter stared at your demonstration with raised eyebrows, surprised that you were still able to be sarcastic when he hurt you. Peter took the mug from your hands and set it on the ground before slowly looking up at your face.

“You’re not stupid.” He said softly with all the sincerity his heart could give. You scoffed and folded your arms, looking to the side when you felt tears sting your eyes.

“Yes I am.” You said like you fully believed it, which was Peters worse fear. “Everyone says so. Even you.”

It hit Peter like a sheet of glass when you looked at him like that.

Like he was someone you didn’t want around.

“I didn’t mean to say that.” Peter apologized. “That is not how I feel. At all.”

“Don’t act like you’ve never thought about saying that before.” You laughed sadly. “Everyone on the team calls me dumb. It was only a matter of time before you did it too.”

“I didn’t mean it.” Peter repeated. “I don’t think you’re stupid.”

“Bullshit.” You snapped. “You’re so full of bullshit.”

“I’m not full of bullshit.” He whined like a child and gave you puppy dog eyes. “I’m full of regret.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek as he gave you his best pout, willing you to forgive him. Finally, you caved and cracked a smile.

“I hate you.” You stamped your foot and hung your head, frustrated with yourself for not being able to stay mad at him. Peter opened his arms and you walked into them, arms still folded angrily. You bumped your forehead against his shoulder before moving to rest your chin on it as he wrapped his arms around you. Peter nestled against your hair and sighed, happy that you had forgiven him but still saddened that he had hurt you in the first place. He could see the pile of used tissues on your bed and it killed him to know he made you cry.

“I didn’t mean to call you that. I really didn’t.” He said softly. “I’m the one who’s been trying to stop people from saying that.”

“But they still do it.” You sniffled. “Everyday I get called dumb or stupid or scalene.”

“I think it’s obtuse, not scalene.” Peter reluctantly corrected you. You pulled away and little and let Peter wipe the tears from your face.

“Maybe they’re right.” You shrugged and looked Peter in the eyes. “Maybe I am dumb.”

Peter kept your face between his hands, staring at you for a moment before sighing.

“I once sneezed so many times in a row that I peed my pants.” Peter deadpanned. “I was 17.”

“What?” You chuckled as you wiped your nose.

“I saw Bucky try to take a piece of toast out of the toaster with his metal arm and electrocute himself.” He continued. “And I constantly see Tony bumping into glass doors.”

“I don’t understand.” You squinted your eyes, but sure what point he was trying to make.

“Steve still picks up the phone and asks for the operator. Nat leaves her curling iron plugged in all the time. I do not think Sam knows the address of where we live and I’m pretty sure Rhodey can’t do laundry. He gets all his stuff dry cleaned, even his socks.”

“Why are you telling me all of this?” You asked.

“Because were all dumb.” Peter concluded. “We all do and say dumb things. You don’t know where Alaska is and no one in this tower can read analog clocks. If we’re all dumb, then maybe none of us are dumb. Or we all are. Who cares?” Peter shrugged, making you laugh. “And you were right. A bird did carry off my web shooter. So no, you’re no dumb. Or stupid. Or obtuse. You’re, uh, you- you…” Peter looked down at he fumbled over his words.

“I’m what?” You raised an eyebrow. You could finish his sentence last time, but this time you were lost.

“You’re…” Peter tampered off again, staring at your confused expression for a moment before pulling you into a kiss. Your hands clenched into a fist and slowly uncurled as you relaxed into the kiss. Peter pulled away too soon and let his eyes flutter open. They met yours and you shared a moment of hesitation, not knowing what happened rest next.

“I’m gonna be honest lovey, I didn’t really have an ending to that sentence.” Peter chris joes softly, his breath fanning your face. “That was mainly improv.”

“You’re pretty good at improv, Parker.” You cracked a smile and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“I did a little bit of theater in high school.” He shrugged smugly, making you giggle.

“Mmm. I severely don’t want to hear about that.” You teased before kissing him again.

“Oh, I think you do.” Peter remarked. “Because I once went to the bathroom during intermission with my mic still on and the entire audience heard me peeing.”

“Oh my God.” You laughed. “You’re so stupid.”

Tag List 🏷

@maybemona @foreverxholland @damnyoudameron @lavender-writer @captainmandeestudent17 @whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning @imyourliquor-youremypoison @theolwebshooter @andreasworlsboring101 @guksmyfav @waiting-to-be-myself @letsloveimagines @peterparkoure @a-villain-vying-for-attention @justcallmehitgirl @averyfosterthoughts @jackiehollanderr @tiny-friggin-human @celestial-skylines @mara-twins @iamaunicorn4704 @spideygirl2003 @the-crazy-fanfictionist @maryjanee23  @geeksareunique @emmamarshmellow @jillanaholland @unbelievableholland @rebekkah4766 @flixndchill @sovereignparker @wendaiii @thisisthebiplace @spideydobrik @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @caelestii-e @eridanuswave @itscaminow @fiantomartell @solarxmoonchild @where-art-thau-romeo @canyouevencauseicant @illwritetomorrow @thehappygrungelife @saysomethingspiderman @parkerboop @smilexcaptainx @hes-amarillo @quaksonhehe @kelieah @silteplaittais-toi @kickingn-ames @purefluff @seasidecrowbar @lovelessdagger @love-sick-blues @electraheart-3174 @lou-la-lou @unbelievableholland @yourtypicalhotmess @ohnothezombies @spideyanakin @horanxholland @thesuitelifeofafangirl​ @anapocalypseinmymind @quacksonfics @marshxx @heyheycharlatte​ @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie @tomshufflepuff @buckybigbutt @cookiemonstermusic258 @awesomebooklover17

[catgirlforkaeya]

new year’s day

kaeya x gn!reader

fluff + modern au

warnings: not proofread + all lowercase + mentions of alcohol + hangovers + suggestive (sex is mentioned from the previous night)

based off this song:

a/n: aaa happy new year everyone! i hope 2022 is nice to y’all :) <3 i’m sorry this is rly rushed i’ve been meaning to work on this but reading sucked me in completely

when you began to wake up your whole body was sore. you felt as if you got run over by a train multiple times in a row. your muscles were stiff, limbs and joints achy. you also had a throbbing headache that felt like you’d been beaten over the head with rocks.

the sun fully woke you up. it was peeking in through the curtains and blinds, shining right down onto your face. with a groan you threw the blankets over your head in an attempt to block out the sun, but it didn’t do much. that’s when you realized something— the sun doesn’t usually shine onto you in the mornings. you’d specifically made it so it didn’t, so why was it disrupting your sleep?

groggily, you sat up in the bed. your head was spinning from the sudden movement, a wave of nausea hitting you like a truck. the first thing you noticed was that you had no clothes on— all of your clothes from the previous night completely discarded and thrown into a pile in the corner. that’s when the realization hit you.

you weren’t in your room.

frantically you whipped your head to the left side of the bed. you saw your coworker, kaeya, asleep next to you. his midnight blue locks were messily spread across the pillow beneath him, sepia skin glowing in the morning light. his face had a peaceful expression on it— a look you rarely ever saw.

god, he really was beautiful.

no- you shouldn’t be thinking like that. your boss would probably skin you two alive if she found out what happened. she made it very clear that she was not a fan of relationships within the workplace. kaeya is your coworker, not your lover. but.. why were you in his bed then?

you sat there debating what to do for awhile. should you just leave? sneak out without saying anything? no, that’d be rude. if you did leave, how would you get home? you have no idea how you got here— subway, bus, taxi, driving yourself. if you did drive you were in no shape to drive home. your hangover was horrid. should you just wait until kaeya wakes up? what would you two do? would it be awkward??

“i see you’re awake,” kaeya’s voice made you jump slightly. you were completely zoned out and had no idea that he had woken up. you turned your head to look at him— he was laying on his side now, propped up by one arm.

“yeah— i just woke up,” you let out a tiny laugh. you honestly didn’t know what to do— what do people do the morning after they fuck?? you had no idea. you’ve had sex before but it was always with lovers, not coworkers.

kaeya wrapped his arms around your bare torso, his cold hands making you shiver. he gently tugged on you, inviting you to lay back down. “you weren’t planning on leaving without saying goodbye, right?”

“no,” you shook your head softly. you weren’t exactly sure if you wanted to lay back down yet.

“lay with me then,” his gravelly/raspy morning voice sent chills down your spine. it was deeper than his normal tone, the flirty tone mostly gone. “please?”

you gave in and laid back down next to him. he leaned over some so that he was above you. a hand cupped your cheek as he placed a gentle kiss on your lips.

that’s when memories of the night before hit you.

you were at a party— kaeya’s party. it was a new year’s eve party. he invited you and a bunch of other people to come. you two were friends who met through work and you didn’t have anything else to do so you came. he’d been lingering around you all night, more than normal. dancing with you, talking more than usual, grabbing you drinks and snacks if you wanted them. he whispered something about wanting to ditch the crowd which shocked you considering it was his party. next thing you know though you’re heading up the stairs with kaeya. you barely even closed the door before his lips were on yours. his kiss was one that completely stole your breath, made your stomach flutter. then you were pressed against the wall, kaeya’s lips now on your neck. you were tugging at his clothes, trying to get them off while he was doing the same to you. both of your clothes eventually hitting the floor, your back hitting the bed seconds before kaeya was on top of you.

you had no idea how long you two went at it last night— felt like hours though. the bottom part of your torso and down was achy. kaeya wasn’t lying when he said you’d be sore in the morning.

once he was done with giving you kisses he laid back down, an arm wrapping around you to pull you a bit closer to him. you rested your head on his bare chest, nuzzling against it.

after a few minutes of silence you finally spoke. you shifted a little so that you were now looking up at him. “kaeya?”

“hm?” he looked down at you, eyelids drooping a little from being hungover and tired.

“what are we..?” you asked with hesitant in your voice. you weren’t exactly sure how to put the question— you didn’t want him to take it the wrong way somehow.

kaeya pressed his lips together, letting out a sigh. “i’m not sure— i love you with all my heart but jean would kill us.”

“i mean— she doesn’t have to know,” you gently drew hearts onto kaeya’s chest with your fingers.

“well then,” kaeya moved you so that you were now on top of him, straddling his hips. “will you give me the honor of calling you mine?”

“yes,” you mumbled against his lips, placing a kiss to them. you felt him smile into the kiss as he deepened it. his tongue slid into the kiss, causing a small gasp from you.

you’d longed for a moment like this for awhile. not exactly how you planned it to go, but at least you could finally call kaeya yours.

—

a little while later you two eventually made it downstairs. kaeya had given you one of his hoodies and sweatpants to wear. you tried to tell him that you’d just put on what you had the night before but he insisted.

as you entered the living room it was a fucking mess. for some reason glitter was all over the floor, it was a mixture of silver and gold. there was also some candle wax and polaroids scattered around too.

“how are we going to clean all of this-?” you asked as you bent down to pick up one of the polaroids. ironically enough it was a picture of you and kaeya standing together, drunk smiles on your faces as you held wine filled glasses. you slid the polaroid along with others of you two into the pockets of sweatpants.

“i’ll just have one of the maids clean, i’m too hungover for this,” kaeya pinched the bridge of his nose. you could tell he was a little agitated. you couldn’t blame him though— you’d be pissed too if your apartment was a wreck. granite he did kinda abandon his own party but still.

you two just left everything as it was. both of you had pounding headaches from last night’s alcohol and was in no mood to clean stuff. kaeya figured that he better take you home since it was mid-day now. your place wasn’t far from his so you two could just walk.

downstairs in the lobby it was busier than usual. most people were leaving— girls carrying their shoes so they didn’t have to walk far in high heels. you assumed they were also hungover and woke up late.

all the way home kaeya held your hand in his. he’d occasionally brush his thumb over your knuckles. even though you two have never been affectionate with each other it felt shockingly normal. you’ve hugged but that’s it— not including what happened last night.

the walk to your apartment building wasn’t too awfully bad. it was cold but that was the only complaint. most of the streets were dead. people were probably staying in for the day after being up partying all night. new york city was normally silent after new year’s eve. everyone’s passed out at their houses or hotel rooms.

before you knew it you were at the doors to your apartment complex. you said you’d be fine but kaeya said he wanted to take you up so you let him. you thought he was just being nice but in reality he didn’t want to say goodbye. you’d see each other at work yes but it’s not the same. he wanted to cuddle up on the couch with you, make dinner for you, fall asleep together— maybe even take a warm shower together.

he knew he couldn’t though. if he stayed at all he wouldn’t want to leave. him not wanting to leave would cause him to stay the night and then both of you would be a little fucked because you have work in the morning. he didn’t have his work clothes with him. plus it’d probably be suspicious if you two walked in together considering some coworkers saw you sneak upstairs together.

“well, here’s my door,” you let out an exhausted sigh as you turned to face kaeya. you didn’t want him to go.

“yeah,” kaeya sighed also, sticking his hands in his coat pockets. you could see exhaustion in his singular visible eye.

a long silence hung between you two for awhile. you both knew the reasoning— you didn’t want to say bye. you were so tempted to just say fuck the rules and let kaeya stay. you wanted him— work shouldn’t stop that.

before you could even stop yourself, it slipped out of your mouth.

“stay the night.”

kaeya looked shocked for a second, but his face quickly lit up with joy. “are you sure?”

“yeah,” you smiled as you reached into your pocket for your key. you fumbled around with it before holding it up to the door to unlock it. “work can wait tomorrow.”

kaeya was barely even able to close the door before you pulled him by the collar and kissed him. he quickly took over the kiss, arms wrapping around your waist to pull you flush against him. you two kept staggering around during the kiss but you couldn’t give a fuck.

you pulled away breathless, your lips swollen. a trail of saliva connecting you for a second. your faces were still inches apart, noses brushing against each other. kaeya placed another kiss to your lips, mumbling a small “i love you.”

—

it was now dark. you and kaeya had eaten and even showered together. now you were sitting on your couch, sharing a bowl of popcorn while you watched tv. he was looking at you though.

kaeya had loved you for awhile. ever since the first time you two talked in the office he was in love. he never foresaw you two dating— but here you are. he’s happy, truly, but he can’t help but be scared. he’s scared that he’s going to somehow fuck everything up on accident and lose you.

you don’t even deserve him. you’re such a sweet soul while he’s someone with a dark and tainted past. he’s a sinner, you’re a saint. you don’t know all of the stuff that haunts him everyday— what will you think of him when you do find out? will you love him the same or will you think of him as some monster? only time could tell.

in the middle of his thoughts you looked over at him and flashed a smile. he gave a small smile back. next thing he knew you were leaning against him, head resting on his shoulder as you focused on the tv. he let his arm wrap around you to give you a bit more support.

“i love you kaeya, i hope you know that,” your voice was soft, genuine.

kaeya looked down at you, placing a small kiss on the top of your head. “i know hun. i love you more.”

“mm not possible.”

maybe 2022 won’t be that bad after all.