#and once that school is established i think they probably quietly bow out and hand it over to someone else

[areyouwho-ithinkyouare]

u guys i finished this playthrough this morning and i’m already missing them

[v-hope]

Tiger Lily

Pairing: Jeon Jeongguk x Reader

Genre: Fluff, slight angst, smut, established relationship, College!AU

Word Count: 11.3k

Summary: After finding out your boyfriend was the one to secretly leave flowers in your seat every week back in high school, you have many questions he’s willing to answer. And after finding out the reason the two of you had not gotten together back then was because of your ex best friend, the two of you decided that, first, you were never letting anyone else get in between you, and, second, you were making the most out of your time together from now on.

—Alternarively, the one in which you and your boyfriend finally get your place all to your own and he decides he’s not letting his nonexistent sexual experience stop him from having his way with you anymore.

Warnings: Virgin!JK (a.k.a. male virginity loss), fingering, cunnilingus, handjob (kinda), penetrative sex, protected sex, very slight (male) overstimulation, shy and confident guk keep switching places (when do they not), just very lovey dovey, very intimate.

A/N: Helloo, this is part 33 of my Social Media AU Tiger Flower, but you can still read it if you don’t follow the story. I’m actually shocked by how long this turned out to be but wbk I’m soft as hell for this couple 🥺 so please give it lots of love because I put a lot of effort in this ksñaks. I hope you guys enjoy! Oh, and also, I’m bolding the first and last sentence of the smut part, so if you don’t wanna read it just skip what’s in between the bolded words lol.

“I’ll get it” Yoongi announced when someone called on the door, leaving you and Jimin alone on the sofa as he rushed up to get it.

As soon as he opened it and Jeongguk stepped inside your shared place, bowing politely to your friends before his stare fell on you, you felt your heart race. Saying nothing, you gave him a closed mouth smile, having him do the same at the sight of yours. Although it hadn’t been longer than a week, it had been the longest you had gone without seeing each other ever since you became friends, and, even though you weren’t really showing it right then —as for some reason you were nervous as hell to see each other again—, it was unbelievable how happy you were at the mere sight of one another.

“We were just leaving” Yoongi informed, catching up on what was going on. After all, you had told both him and Jimin that your boyfriend would be coming over to talk things out.

“We were?” Jimin asked with furrowed eyebrows. “I just got home”.

“Let’s give them some privacy” he tilted his head towards the opened door so Jimin would tag along.

“I can go to my room for that”.

“Yah! We all know your nosy ass will eavesdrop everything that way” Yoongi called him out, and you didn’t miss the way Jeongguk had to lower his head not to show his amused smile, being already used to your roommates’ endless bickering antics by now. “Come on, let’s go see Jin hyung at his pub”.

Simple as that, Jimin left your side in a heartbeat to go to the door. “Well, I won’t say no to drinking” he admitted, stopping right in front of Jeongguk and pointing an accusing finger at him. “Take care of my baby”.

“My baby” Guk corrected him, mumbling his words low enough for you not to hear.

Although, unlike you, Jimin did hear —for that had been your boyfriend’s intention—, he said nothing, instead glaring at him the way he always did whenever that discussion over you took place at least twice a week, and walking out of the apartment for once and for all. Yoongi, on the other hand, gave the two of you a small thumbs up before following behind his friend.

And just like that, with the sound of the door closing, silence was quick to take over the room.

This was probably the first time ever since you met that neither of you knew what to say. Fuck, this was probably the first time in your life you didn’t know how to start a conversation. And it wasn’t like you could go over there and kiss him like you were dying to, could you? You had not completely made up yet. That’s what he was here for after all. To talk, not to make out. Although you weren’t really against that idea, and he most definitely was not either — the way his eyes fixed on your lips even all the way over from the door was enough to tell you so.

It had been a good couple of days since you had last seen each other after all.

“You, uh…” your voice came out quite unsteady as you stood up, fixing the plain t-shirt and cotton pyjama pants you were wearing. “Are you hungry?” you asked, walking towards the kitchen and having him quietly follow right behind as you entered it. “Wanna eat something? Drink something?”

He shook his head no when you turned around to look at him, resting your hands on the counter as you leaned against it. “Just wanna clear up your questions”.

You nodded, for that was what he was here for after all, to clear everything up so the two of you could go back to normal. So you could go back to being the happy couple you both loved so much.

“So what are they?” he pushed it when you stood there with no signs of wanting to speak any time soon.

“I just…” you shrugged, making yourself comfortable by sitting at the edge of the counter. “Why didn’t you tell me before that you were the one sending me flowers back then?”

He pouted in confusion as he came closer to you. “When?”

“When we were friends…”

“It would’ve been out of place back then, petal” he explained. “We were just friends and you were into someone else. It would’ve been awkward for us and I really didn’t wanna lose you as my friend” his voice couldn’t help but come out rather bitterly at that, remembering all the thoughts that had invaded his mind when he first saw his chance to let you know it had been him all along, all the thoughts that kept him back from telling you.

“And when we started dating?” you tilted your head. “You had so many chances to tell me, Guk…”

“When we started dating I just didn’t think it mattered anymore” he confessed, unconsciously resting his hands on your knees. “I had you, I really didn’t care about it anymore”.

“You could’ve still told me…”

“And how was I supposed to bring it up? It’s not something I can just say out of nowhere” he pointed out, having you nodding understandingly. “And what was I supposed to say anyway? Hey there, I’m your flower boy?”

A light laugh escaped his mouth when you playfully shoved him away at his words, mocking what you had once told him was the confession you had been expecting from your secret admirer. Holding your hands, he pulled you closer to the edge of the counter, and hence, closer to him. Taking advantage of that, you intertwined your fingers, enjoying the familiar warmth of his hands as you admired the way he softly swayed them together.

“This is so surreal” you sighed.

“In a good or a bad way?”

You shook your head, not being able to give him a proper answer. “I just… I always wanted it to be you so bad, and for a good while I was sure it was you, but it made sense that you were into Sooyeon instead”.

Jeongguk furrowed his eyebrows, the mere thought of ever feeling something for her making him want to gawk. “How could that have ever made sense?”

“She was more like you” you pointed out, rushing to make your point before he could snap at you for comparing the two of them. “Like, yes, she was popular and had lots of friends, but she was the most quiet out of all of us. Believe it or not, she was really shy back then, an—”

“And why would I have wanted more of the same?”

“Huh?” you were taken aback by his question.

“You’re saying she was like me, then I don’t understand why would I have wanted to be with her” he said as if it was obvious.  “If I barely ever speak and so did she… I mean, how would that have even worked out?”

You shrugged, not being able to help the small smile that had started curving up your lips. “Is that why you fall for loud asses like me? So someone else will make up for your lack of talking?”

He chuckled at the teasing tone in your voice, allowing his hands to travel up to your thighs and tenderly drawing circles on them with his thumbs. “Not really” your eyebrows knitted together at his words. “There were a lot of loud girls who would not shut up to save their lives in our class and I didn’t really like them. If anything, they annoyed the hell out of me”.

“Why’d you even want to be with me then?” you wondered, being genuinely curious as to what about your loud, chatty antics, made you different to the rest of your loud classmates.

“You really don’t know why I’ve always liked you?”

You shook your head no. “Why is it?”

Taking in a deep breath, he took a step back so he could collect his thoughts before answering your question. “I don’t think you even remember when I just transferred to our high school in the second year, let alone my first day there. Mrs. Kang made me sit on the empty table next to yours and then proceeded to pass around a surprise test, and me being me, of course I forgot my pencil case at home that day,” he huffed, causing you to chuckle under your breath. “So I just sat there internally freaking out because I couldn’t bring myself to ask anyone for a pen, like I couldn’t move and my voice literally wouldn’t come out no matter how hard I tried” a breathy laugh abandoned his lips. “And I was accepting the idea of turning in a blank paper when suddenly a pen was placed on my table. So my eyes followed your hand back to your table and there you were with your eyes stuck to the test, solving the math problems like you had not just saved me from failing on my very first day as the new kid,” you laughed at his dramatism, however, you managed to remember about that moment. “And then as soon as the class ended you were surrounded by people and you were all talking nonstop and I didn’t know how to give you your pen back, so I tried to slide it into your table but you caught me and told me I could keep it, that it was a ‘welcome present’, and then you smiled at me and honestly that was it for me, Y/N”.

“It was?” you wondered in awe, eyes shining when he nodded.

“I didn’t like loud and popular people up until then, which is kinda weird considering Tae’s my best friend” a throaty laugh escaped your lips at his remark. “But although you were those things, you always got me. You just… understood, in a way. Like, you didn’t pressure me to talk or made me feel bad for not doing so, like the rest of the popular kids did. If anything, you would try to make me feel like I wasn’t all on my own whilst leaving me alone like I wanted” he tilted his head, wondering if what he just said had made any sense, knowing you understood his point when you smiled ever so sweetly. “Like when you added me to your group project one time and let me send my part instead of having to go hang out with you and your friends for an entire afternoon, or when you would invite me to your birthdays along with the rest of the class and then proceeded to tell me not to feel pressured to go if I didn’t feel like it. And even now, ever since the beginning you made me feel good about not really being into partying and barely ever talking”.

“You’ve been more talkative with me lately, though” you pointed out as you mindlessly played with the hair at the back of his head. “Although this is the most I’ve ever heard you talk”.

He chuckled, playfully pinching your thighs. “Don’t get used to it”.

“I won’t, I won’t” you chuckled, planting a chaste kiss to his chest. “Anyway, you said I get you but I didn’t let you do your part of the project on your own this year, though” you reminded him with a feigned pout that he couldn’t help but find the cutest. “And I force you to spend time with me pretty much everyday now. Will you forgive me?”

Jeongguk let out a throaty laugh, leaning in just enough for his lips to press to your cheek. “I got to date you now thanks to that, so you’re forgiven” he planted another kiss to the curved up corner of your smiling mouth. “And funny how you think you’re forcing me when half the time it’s me asking to hang out”.

You giggled. “We love a 50/50 relationship”.

Tilting your head ever so slightly to take a better look at him after hearing him chuckle, you were greatly surprised by his lips pressing down on yours.

Although you had jokingly said that last sentence, it was not far from the truth at all. It wasn’t just you chasing after him and wanting to be with him all the time, but him wanting the exact same all the same. So you could tell by the way he was kissing you right then. It was slow, painfully slow, yet the way his hands were firmly cupping your face to keep you from moving away as he deepened the kiss, could not fail to tell you just how much he had missed you, needed you, those past few days you were apart.

Pressing one small peck to his mouth, you tugged at the fabric of his sweatshirt to pull him closer to your body, later wrapping your arms tightly around his waist and resting your face on his chest — a content sigh escaping your mouth when his arms did the same with you and his lips kissed the crown of your head.

“It really never would’ve crossed my mind that you liked me way before the whole flowers thing...”

“Not even when that one summer we would keep running into each other at the park and you would catch me staring from time to time?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

The heat didn’t wait to reach your cheeks at that. You remembered that very well, for it was the summer you caught feelings for him as well, the one right before you entered your last year of high school. You would go out for walks on your own just for the sake of doing something other than staying in texting your friends all day long, and would run into him most of the time while he walked his dog, the one you now knew was named Gold.

Although you had talked in class more than once —or well, you had talked to him more than once—, you were not friends, and hence, neither of you got the guts to come close to one another to try and start small talk. However, that didn’t stop either of you from staring at each other when you were not looking. Sometimes you would catch each other staring, though, and you couldn’t stop an amused smile from curving up your lips when you remembered one particular time he had choked on air when you smiled at him after catching his eyes being fixed on you, just like he had choked earlier this year when you had asked him if you could sit next to him in class. It seemed to be a habit of his by now, at least when it came to you.

“I thought you were just judging me over the way I was always sniffing the flowers and taking pictures of them…” you admitted, for although a part of you did want to believe he was into you back then, you couldn’t really bring yourself to fully believe it.

He pulled you back by your shoulders so he could give you a questioning look. “Judging you with heart eyes?”

“Yah!” you called him out, feeling your cheeks burn.

Jeongguk laughed, shaking his head in amusement. “I really just couldn’t take my eyes away from you, you looked so hypnotized by them and it was the cutest to me”.

“Is that why you thought about secretly giving me flowers?” you couldn’t help but ask.

He nodded, lowering his head. “I know it would’ve been easier to just talk to you, but I really couldn’t bring myself to do it. Fuck, I even was a nervous wreck this year when you first talked to me,” a breathy laugh escaped his mouth. “So I just… thought I could do that for a while until I got the guts to confess. Although I guess a part of me really wanted you to find out, because whilst looking for different kinds flowers I came across tiger lilies and, apart from finding out they were my birth flower, their meaning just fit so well with what I wanted to do and I just—”

“What do they mean?” you asked.

“It’s cheesy” he let you know with pleading eyes, silently asking you not to make him say it out loud. “Like, really cheesy”.

“Come on,” you begged with pouty lips, getting a hold of his hands. “I’ll look it up on the internet either way if you don’t tell me”.

He shook his head in both amusement and embarrassment altogether, knowing well enough you would do just that if he did not comply right then. So, biting down on his bottom lip, he said: “Please, love me”.

Your eyebrows furrowed in clear confusion. “Huh?”

“They mean ‘please, love me’” he clarified at the sight of your puzzled face, and your heart skipped a beat as you froze in your place. “I told you it was cheesy”.

“No, no, it’s not that. I just… is that what…” you pressed your lips together as you tried to compose yourself. “Did you… do you mean that?” it was now his turn to look confused, tilting his head to the side because of it. “You want me to love you?”

And although to you it seemed like a complicated question to answer, to him, on the other hand, it wasn’t. So, nodding his head immediately, he let you know that was exactly what he wanted.

“Back then, even when we were teenagers and barely ever talked, and I knew nothing about love, I was convinced I was in love with you… even if I knew it was one sided. And now that I got to be your friend and then your boyfriend, I…” he took in a deep breath, staring down to your hands in his before his eyes went back to yours. “I know more than ever that I love you. I love you so much, Y/N. And I know loving someone takes time, and I don’t want to push you or rush you at all, but if you could just try and find it in you to love me back someday, I—”

The small chuckle that abandoned your lips caused his mouth to shut close in an instant, not understanding what was so funny about his words and for a split second there feeling uneasy. However, all his worries went away when you cupped his face in your hands, staring at his lips for a brief second before your eyes went up to fix on his.

“I already love you, you dummy”.

Not giving him time to process your truthful words, if anything, knowing it would take him a while to do so, you leaned in to steal a small kiss from his lips, pecking them ever so tenderly a couple of times until he smiled, finally understanding the meaning of your words and placing his hands on the back of your neck to keep you from pulling away as he sucked on your bottom lip.

“Say it again?” he pleaded in between kisses, not being able to erase the huge smile on his face.

You chuckled teasingly. “Nope”.

“Yah,” he let go fully of your mouth. “You’re always speaking nonstop and now that I for once ask you to say something, you won’t?”

“Exactly” you smiled brightly, giggling when he squinted his eyes at you and leaning in to peck his mouth a couple more times. “I love you, bun” you cooed, being done with your teasing way earlier than you had planned to.

And it was the way you loved him back, along with the way you had gone back to call him that pet name he was the softest about, what had him giving you one of those bunny smiles of his that made you come up with that name to begin with.

“You won’t say it back?” you wondered, batting your lashes for him to take a hint.

Nevertheless, he shook his head no. “I already said it twice, we’re even”.

“Yah!” you lightly shoved him off, only to have him standing right back in between your legs like he had been during your entire conversation. “Jeongguk-ah~”

“Yes, baby?” he played innocent.

“Tell me you love me” you pouted, crossing your arms over your chest.

Letting out a light laugh, he cupped your face and gave your mouth a chaste kiss. “I love you, petal”.

You smiled sweetly, allowing him to plant a few more kisses on your mouth before you pressed your lips to the spot under his jawline, resting your face on his chest as he wrapped his arms around you once more.

“You should’ve confessed back then” you lamented, looking up to his face yet only being met by the sight of his chin. “Why didn’t you?”

He sighed, resting his chin on the top of your head and tightening the hold of his arms around your waist.

There it was, the most important question out of them all. The one he had came here to talk about, yet he had completely forgotten about as he had gotten caught up on making up with you instead. And now that things were finally good between you two, he couldn’t help but fear bringing up said person and what she had done would make things worse all over again.

“I was going to” he let you know. “That was the plan all along”.

Your eyebrows knitted together, sitting up so you could fix your questioning eyes on his troubled expression. “Then why didn’t you?” you repeated your previous question.

He sighed heavily, causing your body to tense up, as you knew right then you wouldn’t like what he was about to tell you. “Sooyeon…”

“What?” you pushed it when he stopped right after mentioning her name. “What did she do?!”

He bit the inside of his cheek. Although he had found out about everything a few days ago and had gotten some time to come to terms with it, it still hurt just as much. All the lost time and what it could have been, all the possibilities that could’ve come with having been with you as a couple ever since your last year of high school, still made his blood boil.

“She found out I was your flower boy one morning and she told me I was wasting my time…”

“What?!” your loud tone was a mix of both worry and anger. “Jeongguk, what did she tell you?”

He shrugged, a weak smile curving up his lips. “Does it matter anymore?”

“Of course it does” you argued. “It does to me”.

Letting out another sigh, knowing well enough he could not avoid this anymore, as you deserved to know the whole story just like he did, he grabbed your hands and gently held them in his — partially wanting to let you know it was alright, partially wanting to feel like it was alright. “She said you had told her you hoped it wasn’t me because you would have to give me a chance out of pity,” the look in your eyes right then made his heart hurt. “Because I was not popular, and I barely ever talked, so you would always be bored around me yet would have to pretend like you were not…”

“Bun, I never said that. I neve—”

“I know” he cut you off before you could freak out completely. “Petal, I know that now”.

“No, but she lied!” you raised your voice for him to hear you out. “I’m never bored around you, you know that, right? And the few times we got to talk back then I was never bored either, I…”

“Baby, I know…” he soothed you, cupping your face and pressing his forehead on yours. “I know. It’s okay”.

“Guk, I had feelings for you back then” you confessed, feeling your voice break.

He took in a shaky breath. Somehow, hearing that coming from you had hurt more than finding out from someone else like he had a few days ago. “It’s okay”.

And it was. It really was. You were together now. Somehow, you had managed to find your way back to each other years later and didn’t have to know what your lives were like without each other. However, the fact that it was alright, it didn’t mean it did not hurt. Because it did hurt. Thinking you could’ve been together ever since three years ago. How you wouldn’t have dated that asshole who broke your heart, and how he wouldn’t have gone three years of his life believing he was not enough. All of that, was not something the two of you could easily let go of.

“So all this time... you really believed I had said that about you? Even when we were friends, when we became a couple…” your voice sounded more broken by the second. “You let me back into your life even when I had supposedly said all those things back then?”

“Call me delusional, but I still really wanted to be close to you” he sheepishly admitted. That’s how he knew he would always have a soft spot for you, no matter what. “And anyway, baby, in my mind that was the high school you. You didn’t seem like the person who said those things back then at all when I got to actually meet you” he reassured you, then bitterly adding: “Now I can see why”.

You breathed uneasily. “You’re too good to me…”

“Yah, Y/N” he called you out immediately. “I told you, we’re not doing this”.

“But I really don’t deserve y—”

Your words were cut off by his lips softly pressing down on yours. Just like you would always call him out whenever he thought less of himself, hating it when he did that, he, too, hated hearing you say stuff like that about yourself.

“It doesn’t matter anymore” he whispered against your lips.

“Yes, it does…” you pouted. “She lied to both of us and we believed her. We could’ve been together ever since...”

“I know…”

“Three years, Guk. We lost three fucking years” you reminded him. “What if I hadn’t asked you to be my partner in the project this year, I mean, I wouldn’t even have you in my life and all because of her”.

“I know” he couldn’t hide the bitterness in his words this time. Because he knew very well what you were feeling, for he had felt the exact same a few days ago. “But can we just… forget about it?”  

“No, I want to beat the shit out of her” your determined, poisonous tone, could do no other than earn a loud giggle from him.

“Do that later?” he pressed his lips to the crook of your neck. “She already took enough time away from us, let’s not let her get in between us anymore. We’re making up now, it’s just us two...”

It was now your turn to giggle, relaxing under his loving touch and nodding your head in agreement before you leaned in to briefly press your mouth to his jaw. “We’ll just have to catch up on all those lost years then”.

He laughed under his breath, cupping your face once more as he leaned in just enough for his lips to faintly brush yours. “I guess we’ll just have to do that”.

Enjoying the sound of that, you puckered your lips up right as his soft ones came in contact with them, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck so you could deepen the kiss. Humming contentedly when his tongue made its way inside your mouth, you felt his hands let go of your face and wander down your back, holding onto your hips to bring you even closer to the edge of the kitchen counter, at which you reacted by wrapping your legs around his hips to help him create the friction between your bodies he was asking for.

You found yourself letting go of his neck to dig your hands inside his sweatshirt instead, smiling coyly at the way you felt goosebumps form on his skin. You had discovered not long ago he was quite ticklish on his sides, and you absolutely loved faintly running your hands along them just to get that reaction out of him.

He breathed heavily when your fingertips made their way up his abs, letting his hands go down lower from their current spot on your back and placing them on your ass instead, giving it a light squeeze as he took advantage on said action to grind his hips against your center.

“Mm…” you let out quietly, finding out just then how much you had missed feeling him close like that.

“You think they’ll be home soon?” he asked, referring to your two chaotic friends, as he peppered a trail of kisses down to your neck.

“They must be just getting started on drinking” you let him know, a smile curving up your lips at the sensation of his wet ones sucking on your skin. “Why? You got something in mind?”

The chuckle that left his mouth tickled your skin, feeling one last kiss being placed on it before his lips were briefly back on yours. “Only if you’re up for it”.

Your lips parted in a bright smile, without another word, shoving him lightly out of the way so you could place your feet on the ground — gently taking his hand in yours and having his adoring eyes stuck to you as you guided him over to your room.

Once inside, and as you let go of his hold so you could turn around to lock the door just in case your friends decided to come home earlier than expected, his eyes fell on the multiple tiger lilies he had left on your seat over the last two days, along with the bouquet of flowers he had sent over to your place earlier that day, all of them carefully lying on your desk by one side of the bed. Smiling at the fact that you had kept them all —as he had been worried you would’ve thrown them away when he first sent them—, he turned around towards you right as you were done with the door, cupping your face immediately and bringing his lips to meet yours in a quite needy kiss.

Walking you backwards towards the bed as he refused to break the hot contact between your mouths, he helped you lie down on it as he crawled over your figure, parting your legs open with his knee so he could lie in between them — a light laugh of his resonating against your mouth when your hands were back into his sweatshirt and the trace of your fingertips tickled his sides.

Wanting more of you as well, he found himself digging his hands inside your t-shirt just like he had grown fond of ever since that one time in his room, letting them make their way up to your breasts so he could tease them a little bit. Only, this time, he was met not by the thin fabric of your bra, but with your soft skin instead — feeling your nipples instantly harden at his sudden touch as a small hum abandoned your lips.

Not being able to hide his —very pleasant— surprise, he withdrew his lips from yours; wide eyes staring at you before they travelled down to your still covered breasts.

At his quite cute reaction, you couldn’t help but let out a giggle. “I’m wearing pyjamas, is it really that surprising?”

It shouldn’t be. He knew that very well, considering you had not once worn a bra whenever you slept over at each other’s. However, being so caught up in the moment, he had seemed to forget about that altogether.

Deciding to say nothing, he leaned down instead to trap your bottom lip in between his again, sucking lightly on it as his hands squeezed your breasts in such a way that left you wanting more in a heartbeat.

“Mm… fuck” you moaned ever so quietly when one of his thumbs teased your nipple.

Smiling at your reaction, he moved his kisses all the way down from your mouth to your collarbone, feeling your chest heavily move up and down when his mouth came close to it. Firmly placing his hands on the curve under your breasts, he lifted your body up with ease to adjust you up enough on the mattress so that your still covered breasts were now right under his face.

Not giving you a second to process what had just happened, he lowered his face to your chest, pressing open mouth kisses on the fabric that was still covering it, and getting another moan out of you when his hand went back to teasing one of your breasts under your t-shirt, while his hot mouth sucked on your other one over it.

“Guk, fuck” you gasped, feeling goosebumps form on your skin when his lips travelled down to your bellybutton and his hands abandoned your chest to tug at the end of your top instead.

Biting down on his lip, he glanced up to you before doing anything else. “Is it okay if I?”

Although his question had been left incomplete, you answered him with an eager nod of your head, wanting nothing but to feel his wet mouth on your sensitive buds already.

Tongue wetting his lips in anticipation, he lifted your t-shirt over your chest — leaving it still on yet completely exposing you to his eyes. And it was the way his eyes fixed on your naked chest like the world had just stopped, what managed to make you nervous enough to bring your arms up to cover them.

“I would’ve worn something hotter for you to look at if I had known this was going to happen” you couldn’t help but joke your way out of it.

Jeongguk laughed lightly, leaning down to peck your neck a couple of times, trying to ease your sudden nervousness. “I don’t think anything could ever top this”.

Because although he was sure getting to see you in lingerie would be one hell of a sight, he loved this view the most. He loved looking at you, with absolutely nothing on the way of your body and his eyes.

And just like that, his teasing yet genuine words were the last push you needed to relax under both his touch and stare, allowing him to gently grab your wrists and remove your arms from off your chest. Receiving a small nod from you when his questioning eyes fixed on yours for a second, he planted two short kisses to your mouth before they were back on your chest.

Your back curved up with the first lap of his tongue on one of your nipples, feeling your breathing become heavier when his lips wrapped around it without any kind of warning.

“Jeongguk…” you moaned in what sounded like a plea.

Wanting to hear more of his name coming out as one of your pretty moans, he swirled his tongue harder around your bud, right as his thumb teased the one he had left unattended until then - not many seconds going by before he moved his mouth over to it so he could tease it as well.

“Fuck,” you gasped when his mouth sucked on your skin. “Jeongguk”.

Catching on the way you had pushed your hips slightly up to try and get some friction out of his already hardened length, he found himself giving you one slow thrust that had you both moaning whilst wanting more. Instead of grinding on you again, however, he let go of your breast and let his hand wander down to your pants instead, palming your already wet core through them before he fidgeted with their waistband.

“Please,” you begged.

“Hm?” he hummed against your jaw, as he placed a sweet kiss to it before going to your lips.

“Your fingers” you managed to blurt out, feeling like you were losing your mind over the way his long fingers were now teasingly digging inside your pants. “Jeongguk, please”.

Although he found out right then that he  loved hearing you beg, he wanted the most to make you feel good, which is why he was quick to comply with your wishes. Palming you now over your damp panties, he felt your body shake at the contact — a gasp escaping your mouth when his fingers made the fabric aside and they started rubbing circle motions on your folds.

You felt warmer and way more wet than he had expected, and he felt the sudden urge to run his tongue along your folds to get a taste of your arousal. However, right then, he knew what you wanted, what you needed, were his fingers inside of you. So, he did just that.

“Ah, fuck” you threw your head harder against the mattress when one of his fingers made its way into you.

“You’re so tight...” he breathed out in amazement, feeling himself get harder at the thought of what it would be like to feel your walls tightening around his cock instead.

Slowly shifting his finger inside your responsive walls, he focused on taking in your facial expressions to try and figure out what pace you liked the most — sticking with a faster one after one particular moan had escaped your lips right after he speeded up his pistoning motions.

“Like that?” he asked nevertheless, planting a lingering kiss to your chest.

“Yes” you managed to blurt out, grinding your hips against his finger, being desperate for more.

Catching up on that, he added another digit, hissing at the way your walls had seemed to tighten even more around them. Opening and closing his fingers in scissoring motions as he tried to stretch you out so he could move around with ease, he felt your breathing become heavier by the second, letting out a choked moan when he experimented by curling his digits against your walls.

“Oh, fuck” you whimpered when he curled them once more, managing to hit with them that one spot that could make you come undone in a matter of minutes.

“Feels good?” he asked, admiring your factions as you were too immersed in your own pleasure to remember how to speak.

“Mhm…” you answered with a simple sound instead, mewling when his motions sped up their pace. “So good”.

“Fuck,” he blurted when he felt your juices running down your slit. “Baby, you’re dripping”.

“Jeongguk, don’t stop” you begged when you felt his fingers no longer moving inside of you, desperately grabbing his wrist when you felt them start to pull out. “Don’t stop”.

He reassured you with an intoxicating kiss that made you dizzy. “I wanna eat you out”.

Your breath hitched at his low words, feeling your walls tighten when you opened your eyes to meet his hungry ones. And you didn’t have to even think before you were nodding your head. You needed him, that was all you knew. No matter if it were his fingers, his mouth or his cock, you were desperate for him right then, and would let him have you however he wanted.

Kissing your lips one more time, he felt you whimper against his mouth when his fingers pulled out of you, causing you to close your legs as you tried to replace the way they felt with the friction your thighs could provide you with. It didn’t last long, though, for Jeongguk was quick to pull them open once more so he could remove your pyjama pants along with your panties, licking his lips in anticipation at the perfect sight he got of your dripping folds.

“Fuck, you’re so hot” he rasped, causing your cheeks to burn and another whimper escape your mouth when his thumb brushed faintly over your clit.

“Jeongguk, please” begging seemed to be your only way of communication that night, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying the hell out of it.

Pulling you closer to him, he placed your thighs over his shoulders before he finally brought his face up to your heat. Worrying for a split second there, as he was not entirely sure as to what was the right way to do this, he decided to go with his instinct —just like he had done seconds ago when his fingers were inside of you— and begin by slowly sliding his tongue through your folds. The way your body had trembled and a moan of yours had reached his ears as soon as he did, let him know he was doing well.

Delving his tongue in your slit, you instinctively reacted by pulling your hips slightly away from him at the pleasure his ministrations were giving you, and Jeongguk didn’t hesitate before grabbing your thighs and pulling you closer to his mouth once more, sucking on your wet heat before he pushed his tongue inside.

“Oh, God” you whimpered when he started fucking you with his tongue. “J-Jeongguk, yes”.

Moaning loudly when he pushed a finger back into you, you grabbed onto one of your breasts with one hand, as your other one travelled down to entangle your fingers in his already messy hair, earning a muffled moan from him when you pulled lightly at it.

Curling his finger inside you the way he had found out drove you crazy, his mouth let go of your heat, planting a small kiss on it before he licked his way up your folds and stopped by your clit. Although he was not experienced in all this at all, he did know stimulating that small button of yours could work wonders, and he was willing to give it a try. The second he swirled his tongue around it and you cried out in pleasure, he knew it wouldn’t take much longer before you reached your climax if he kept applying pressure on that particular spot.

Tightening his hold on one of your thighs to keep you from moving away as your body writhed beneath him, he added a second finger inside you, sucking on your clit before his tongue came in contact with it again.

“Mm—ah, Jeongguk. Fuck” you cried incoherently, curling your toes as you felt your climax getting closer. “Fuck, d-don’t stop”.

Feeling your walls tighten around his fingers, he could tell as well that you were close. Pushing his digits deeper into you, he managed to hit once more that one spot you needed him the most.

“Right there” you let him know, curving your back when he followed your words and his fingers brushed over it once more. “Oh, righ—fuck!” you whimpered.

“Let go, baby” he rasped, replacing his mouth on your clit with his thumb and pressing down on it in circle motions. “Cum for me”.

The mere sound of that, along with the way his mouth had came in contact with your folds as his fingers kept fucking into you, were all you needed to finally come undone under his touch, crying out his name one last time as his fingers helped you ride out your orgasm.

Closing your eyes and letting the aftershocks take over your body, you moaned lightly at the feel of your boyfriend’s tongue running along your slit, tasting the juices that were dripping down on it and licking you clean before he made his way back next to you, hovering over your figure and kissing you hungrily yet somehow gently. One of his thumbs caressed your hip as his other one came in contact with your chin, drawing circular motions on your skin as you kissed him back — eyes still closed as you felt your body finally steadying.

“Was that alright?” he asked, planting a lingering kiss to your mouth.

Opening your eyes, you looked at him with disbelief written all over them. “It was amazing” you reassured him with a smile nevertheless, allowing his mouth to come in contact with yours once more.

Pulling him closer by wrapping one arm around his neck, you felt something hard poke one of your sides, causing you to undo the kiss and stare down to the outline of his hardened member against the loose fabric of his pants.

“Want me to help you with that again?” you teasingly raised one of your eyebrows, earning a small lip bite from him at the memories of how good you had made him feel not too long ago.

Although it took him a second, he nodded his head. A smile curved up the corners of your lips at that, only for it to be replaced with a frown when his hand stopped you from reaching for his cock.

“Not like that” he shook his head.

You pouted in confusion. “Then how…”

Wetting his lips with his tongue, he leaned down to brush his mouth with yours. “I want to fuck you”.

You felt a wave of heat hit your body at his words, for although he had just seen and touched pretty much all of you, and you had just offered to suck him off, you had thought that would be as far as you’d get, just like that one time in his room when it had led to nothing else.

“W-What?” your voice betrayed you by stuttering a bit.

“I want to fuck you” he repeated, sounding just as determined as he had before. “You don’t want to?”

“No, I want to!” you were quick to clarify. Fuck, you wanted to. “It’s just… You sure you want this? With me?”

“I’ve wanted to have you like this for so long, Y/N. I could not be any more sure” his words sent shivers up your spine. “Besides, sorry to remind you, petal, but you are my girlfriend, so…”

“That I am, huh?” you played along, pulling him down by the neck of his sweatshirt so your lips could meet his. “Then I guess I’ll be good to you tonight and let you have your way with me”.

Smiling contentedly at your words, he wasted no time in crashing his mouth on yours, burying one of his hands under your t-shirt to give one of your breasts a tight squeeze before he tugged at the end of the fabric — eyebrows furrowing slightly and puzzled eyes opening when you held your top down by pressing your arms to your sides, not allowing him to pull it up so he could take it off.

“Wha—”

“It’s unfair you’re about to leave me naked while you’re still fully dressed, don’t you think?” you pointed out with pouty lips.

Rolling his eyes in amusement, he sat up on the mattress so he could take his sweatshirt off, being followed by you right after, as you helped him get rid of it with a smile on your face. Now, you had seen him shirtless once, when you were having food in his room one evening and he stained his t-shirt with soda, proceeding to change into another one right in front of you, but you had seen little to nothing of his torso, as he had turned almost fully around as he did so. And hence now, you could not hide the hungry look on your face as you stared at his toned chest.

“My eyes are up here” he teased you with an amused smile, causing you to send a playful glare his way.

“You didn’t exactly look into my eyes either when you pulled my t-shirt up, so…”

He chuckled at your snarky remark, leaning in to connect his mouth with yours and then tugging once more at the end of your top, just like he had done a minute before. This time, however, you pulled your arms up, letting go of his mouth so he could get rid of that one last piece of clothing of yours that was bothering him so much.

Not wasting any more time, you helped him out of the rest of his clothes as well, giggling against his lips when they needingly crashed on yours once more, with one swift movement lying you down on the mattress as your curious, wandering hands became familiar with each other’s bodies.

A raspy moan escaped Jeongguk’s throat when your hand stroked his member, being followed by a choked one when you tightly wrapped your hand around it, gently moving it up and down his length.

“Fuck, Y/N” he breathed heavily, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he unconsciously thrusted into your hand. “I need you”.

You smiled at the sound of his begging words, leaving a small kiss on his naked shoulder before you released his member from your hold and pushed him on his back, letting him adjust into a more comfortable position as he rested his back against the headboard, before you sunk your knees down on the mattress on each side of his lap — his hands immediately resting on the curve of your waist and a shaky breath coming out of his mouth at the feel of your wet core rubbing ever so faintly against his cock.

“You sure you want this?” you asked.

He eagerly nodded his head, pulling you back to meet his swollen lips. “I want you so bad”.

Feeling a wave of heat rushing through your body at that, you nodded your head, pecking his lips one more time before you reached for your nightstand, opening its small drawer and taking a condom out of it. Going back to your boyfriend, you were met with his rather taken aback expression.

“You knew this was going to happen or…” he questioned with a raised brow and a teasing smile.

You shook your head as a shy smile curved up your lips. “The two idiots I live with filled my drawer with them when we started staying over at each other’s regularly” you explained with a roll of eyes. “They also left a box full of them in my closet”.

Jeongguk laughed wholeheartedly at that. “Well, that’s good to hear. They will come in handy”.

Laughing along with him at his joyful remark, you opened the small envelope in your hands, pulling slightly back so you were no longer hovering over his member and could slide the condom on it with ease — feeling Jeongguk’s breath hitch at both the unfamiliar feel of the thin latex around his length, and the familiar one of your hands on it. Staring back at him once you were done, you stole a sweet kiss from his lips, hearing him moan against your mouth when your hand was once more wrapped around his cock, pumping it a couple more times as you aligned it with your entrance.

And then, locking eyes with him for a second, you kissed him slowly. As slowly as you had started to sink down on him.

Letting go of the kiss as he involuntarily tilted his head back, Jeongguk let out a loud moan, immediately getting lost into what was without a doubt the most pleasure he had ever felt. And he knew right away that your warm, wet walls wrapping tightly around his member, was something he could easily become addicted to.

Staring lovingly at the way his eyes remained closed and his mouth slightly open, you couldn’t help but moan as well as you pushed down lower on him, feeling your walls stretching as you tried to take his entire length.

“Fuck” he rasped when he was completely inside of you.

Tightening his hold on your hips, he pulled you slightly closer to him on his lap, not being able to hold back a blissful chuckle at the way the friction he had just created made him feel.

“What is it?” you wondered with a smile of your own when he leaned in to rest his forehead on your shoulder.

“It feels so good” he let you know with another chuckle.

Joining him on his sudden outburst of joy, you let out a light laugh just as he pressed an open mouth kiss to your shoulder, loving to be the one who got to share this moment with him — to be the one he wanted to share this moment with. Pressing a small kiss to the top of his head, you placed two fingers under his chin to push it up and have him look at you. Once he did, you leaned in to steal a lingering kiss.

“I love you” you said for the third time that night.

He smiled brightly, bringing his lips up to yours and locking them in a slow kiss. “I love you more”.

Opening your mouth to fight him on that, what came out of it instead was a choked moan after he pulled your hips down on his cock.

“Jeongguk, fuck” you let your forehead fall to his shoulder when he pushed his hips up to yours.

Slowly rolling your hips, you met him right as he thrusted up on you once more, causing a small moan to make its way out of his mouth. “Mm… baby…”

With his hands firmly grabbing your hips, you let him guide the pace as you rode him, loosely wrapping your arms around his neck and resting your forehead on his as the two of you grew used to the rhythm he was leading. Closing your eyes, you let your heavy breathings mix as they were now, along with a few moans here and there, the only sound filling your silent bedroom.

“O-Oh, fuck” you gasped when he pulled you down harder on him, somehow managing to push deeper inside of you.

You leaned slightly back when he repeated said action, tilting your head back as well and then humming quietly when you felt his warm lips wrap around one of your breasts, slowly sucking on your nipple, as you had just given him the perfect opportunity to do just that, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and pulling you closer to him as you kept rolling your hips at the same pace he had created for you before.

“Mh—ah! Fuck” he moaned when you pushed your legs up, enough for only half of his cock to be inside of you, to later take it all in again. “Y/N…”

Doing it again, you couldn’t stop the whimper that had just abandoned your mouth as his length had managed to reach that soft spot of yours. Needing more of him, you sped up the pace of your grinding against his hips, feeling him finally let go of your sensitive bud to let his sweaty forehead rest in the crook of your neck as his moans became louder by the second.

“Wait, wait” he demanded breathily, placing his hands on your hips and firmly holding them down so you would stop moving. “Stop”.

“What’s wrong?” you worried, doing as told in a heartbeat.

He shook his head no, quietly letting you know nothing was really wrong, as he buried his face deeper in the crook of your neck and closed his eyes while he tried his best to catch his breath. “Feels too good” he admitted in a raspy voice. “Don’t wanna cum yet”.

You giggled under your breath, finding silent joy on the fact that he hadn’t asked you to stop because he wasn’t enjoying what you were doing, but because he was liking it too much.

Lowering your head to his shoulder, you planted a small kiss on it. “You can cum if you want” you let him know, pressing another soothing kiss to the crook of his neck. “I understand”.

He shook his head no, letting out a heavy sigh as his thumbs drew tender circles on your skin. Maybe it was his ego, or just the fact that he really wanted to make you feel good too, maybe both, what made him refuse to let himself go right then, no matter how bad he wanted to. No matter how hard it was not to.

Smiling sweetly at him, you brought one of your hands up to his damp hair while your other one caressed his back, entangling your fingers in his dark locks as you waited for him to come down from the high he had been about to reach. Letting out a sigh when he felt like he could finally breathe again, he placed his hands on your back to pull you closer — lips looking for yours when your naked chest pressed on his.

Kissing him hard, you opened your mouth for his tongue to meet yours after it had traced your bottom lip, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and trying your best not to roll your hips like you were dying to. Although you didn’t have to hold back for much longer, for with one last kiss and with his warm hands still holding you down on his cock, he pushed it deeper inside of you.

“Fuck” you gasped at the sudden stimulation, taking it as your cue to start moving as well.

“F—Y/N” he moaned when your hips met his in the middle, as they pushed into you once more.

Helping you lead the pace once again, he held you by the waist, digging his fingers into your hot skin and deciding right there, as you moaned his name and your walls tightened around his cock, that he wanted to take over from then on. So, with a swift movement, you were now under him as he laid your back on the mattress — a light moan escaping your lips when he pulled out of you to make you more comfortable on the bed, immediately becoming whiny as you missed his whole length inside of you.

“No, don’t stop fucking me” you pouted, breath hitching when he grabbed your thighs and pulled you closer to where he was sitting down on the mattress. “Jeongguk, please”.

He smiled at both the sound and sight of you right then, really enjoying them one hell of a lot. It was your messy hair, swollen lips and naked chest that moved up and down as you breathed heavily, along with the neediness in your voice as you were begging for him once more, what made it easy for him to decide he liked being in control.

Catching your bottom lip in his mouth as he adjusted himself in between your legs, he heard you beg one more time against his lips. However, just as you did, he felt one of your hands desperately go down to your center so you could feel something inside of you. Only you didn’t get to, for his hand grabbed your wrist right before your fingers could find their way inside, managing to grab your other one as well and pin them over your head as he pushed his hips down enough for the head of his cock to align with your wet center.

“I’m the one fucking you tonight, petal”.

You moaned at the sound of his words being murmured against your neck — the way such sweet pet name had been said with such a lustful tone right then, making you somehow even more needy for him.

“Please,” you breathed out, overwhelmed by the way his mouth teased the sensitive skin of your neck and he rubbed his cock against your core, not quite pushing into you yet. “Jeongguk, please. I need you”.

“What was that?” he wondered teasingly.

“I need you” you repeated. “Jeongguk, please. Please fuck m—ah!” your head was thrown back in pleasure when he slammed his entire length into you, just the way you were so badly begging for.

Hungrily kissing your mouth, he muffled the moans that came out of it with each thrust of his hips — letting go of your lips as a low groan made its way out of his throat when your walls wrapped tighter than he had felt them do that evening, as you were getting closer to reach your high.

Letting his forehead fall to your shoulder, he muffled a cry against your skin as you wrapped your legs around his waist and your walls tightened once more against his cock, knowing right then he wouldn’t be able to last much longer.

“Harder” you pleaded breathily, arching your back as he wasted no time in complying. “F-Fuck, Jeongguk. Ah!”

“Y/N” he rasped your name, feeling his inevitable release about to hit. “Fuck, I’m g-gonna cum”.

Not being able to form any kind of coherent sentence right then, you settled for an eager nod of your head to let him know it was okay. Digging your nails on the wet skin of his back, you scratched your way down on it when he once again managed to find that one soft spot of yours that had you crying out in a second.

“Right there,” you desperately let him know, feeling your legs start to give up when he kept hitting it with each of his thrusts. “Fuck, right there”.

“A-Ah, Y/N, I’m—” he stumbled upon his own words, not being able to hold on anymore given how much tighter you were getting now around him. “Mm… I’m gon—ah!”

Groaning one last time, he let himself go like he had fought so hard not to — your pulsating walls around his cock finally driving him over the edge.

Although overwhelmed by the intense wave of pleasure running through his body, beginning to feel dizzy even, he did not slump down on you to catch his breath like he so badly needed to. Instead, he kept riding his own orgasm — his thrusts becoming sloppier yet rougher as he greedily tried to drive you over the edge, too.

And it was only a matter of seconds before you did.

“J-Jeongguk, I’m—ahh!” you cried out one last time, feeling your shaky legs give up as you came undone beneath him.

Helping you ride out your orgasm as well, Jeongguk whimpered at the overstimulation, finally letting his body slump down on yours and burying his face on your neck, as he felt his body tremble with each spasm of your walls around him. Feeling his hot, heavy breath hit your sweaty neck as the two of you desperately tried to catch your breath, you entangled once more your fingers on the hair at the back of his head — fingertips ever so tenderly moving in circular motions in a soothing way.

Closing your eyes for a couple of seconds, you felt his thumb caress one of your sides, later having you opening your eyes when he pressed two brief kisses to the crook of your neck and a breathy laugh of his was soon to follow right after.

“What’s so amusing?” you wondered, feeling the corners of your mouth curve up when another chuckle of his reached your ears.

“That was amazing” he confessed, causing your face to burn as your smile grew wider. Pressing one of his arms down on the mattress, he held his body up so he could lock his eyes with yours. “Was it okay for you?”

You bit your bottom lip, shyly looking away for a split second before your eyes focused back on his. “Jeon Jeongguk,” you called his name in a serious tone.

“Hm?”

“You made me cum twice” you reminded him, loving the sight of his already flushed cheeks turning even more pink than they already were. “I think that speaks for itself”.

He let out a shy laugh, tilting your chin up as he brought his lips down to yours and kissing you sweetly for a good couple of seconds, later moving his lips over to press an open mouth kiss to your cheek before he finally pulled out of you. Removing the condom from his member, he crawled to the edge of the bed and reached for the small bin you kept under your desk next to your bed, bringing it closer to him and throwing the used latex into it before he went back to lie on his stomach next to you — blissfully letting you kiss his lips once more like you had just reached up to.

“I’ll get better at it” he promised, earning a quiet giggle from you.

“Well, we do have three years to make up for, so I guess we’ll both get a lot of practice” you pointed out coyly.

“And we don’t have to worry about running out of condoms anytime soon” he reminded you, amusement clear in his voice.

Throwing your head back on the mattress, you allowed a throaty laugh to escape your mouth, later looking back at him and bringing your hand up to cup one of his cheeks. Gently caressing it a couple of times, you puckered your lips up for him to come closer and cut the space between your mouth — smiling softly when he complied in a heartbeat, slowly sucking on your bottom lip.

“I love you” he mumbled on your lips, loving the way he was finally able to say it freely, knowing you felt the same, like he had been aching you to all along.

“I love you more” you repeated his previous answer with a smile.

Kissing your lips chastely, he shook his head no, tilting his head towards the flowers that were taking over your desk. “Those are proof that I love you more”.

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “Those are proof that you’ve loved me for longer, it’s got nothing to do with the amount of it”.

“Mhm…” he nodded his head, letting you know with both the tone of his voice and the look on his eyes that you were not convincing him. “Whatever works for you, petal” his lips turned into a smile as he let his back slump down on the bed.

“Yah,” you gently shoved him off, feeling your heart skip a beat when you heard him laugh.

Pulling you to his chest by wrapping an arm around you, he planted a kiss to your forehead. Although you had sighed contentedly after resting your face on his chest, he didn’t miss the way your mind was quite absent right then.

“What’s wrong?” his eyebrows knitted together, growing somewhat more confused after following with his eyes to where yours were staring at and having them fall on the flowers.

“Nothing” you smiled, unconsciously running your fingers along his chest. “I just wish these particular ones would last forever”.

Smiling as he adoringly stared at you, he hugged you closer to his body. “I can get you all the flowers you want”.

At that, your head snapped up so you could lock eyes with him. The mischievous smile that had just formed on your mouth as you cockily raised one of your eyebrows, letting him know right away he was about to regret what he had just said. “You’ll be like my flower daddy then?”

Yup, there it was, the regret.

“Anddd, you ruined it” he lamented.

Letting his head fall back down on the mattress, he closed his eyes as he tried his best to fight the smile that was threatening with taking over his face, knowing he would fail miserably at it when he heard you chuckle next to him — finally giving in to it and laughing as well as you peppered open mouth kisses around his face.

Although popular, loud, chaotic, bubbly, impulsive as hell, and just the complete opposite to what he was, he could not be any happier it was you the one his heart had chosen to fall irretrievably in love with.

[lue-arlert]

Hello!!! Congrats on the 100! I saw Esroh06/Brooke reblog some of your stuff and I love how you wrote! I could have sworn I was following before but I guess not.

But for the first date event I would like to request Eren and Erwin with nsfw and I am kind of a sugar baby but not completely.

Again congrats on the 100!! You totally deserve it!

Hello Emma, thank you so much for the follow!! 💛 I appreciate your support 🥰

Okay so I was SUPER excited to write this bc I’ve never seen this dynamic before, but I hope I’ve met your expectations for your date! ✨

WC: 2.7k

18+ minors and ageless blogs do not interact

Mr. Smith liked to watch and be watched.

This was one of his terms he sent in the email reply to your response to his ad seeking a young couple to be his sugar babies. You and your boyfriend were needing help with schooling, your families not interested in investing in your education, and you hoped maybe one day your wedding could be funded, if this experience worked out for the two of you.

Eren had his hand rested on your back, your pretty dress laying under his palm, as you fidgeted nervously, waiting to be seated after giving Mr. Smith’s name to the host.

You were kindly guided to the back of the restaurant, and you felt butterflies make home in your belly as a tall, broad blond man stood from his seat to greet you. His hair was neatly slicked to the side, and his hypnotic blue eyes drifted between you both, taking in your figure and Eren’s thrift store suit.

He smiled, admiring the attempt at looking the part to be in a fine dining establishment such as this one.

“Pleasure to meet you.” He took your hand and bowed his head, kissing your knuckles, then nodded to Eren, sitting in his booth seat once more.

Your boyfriend pulled your chair out for you, clearing his throat quietly and helping tuck you under the table before taking his own seat.

“You’re a handsome couple.” He complimented, lifting his drink to his mouth, the glass looking more delicate than it probably was in his sizable hand.

“Thank you, sir.” You smiled, nodding your head. “We um, we appreciate you meeting with us.”

“Of course.” He smiled again, setting his drink back on the table. “I’m happy to help in any way I can.” His hands clasped together as he leaned on the table, glancing between you. “Remind me of your majors.”

“Medical.” Eren rested his hand on your thigh anxiously.

You stated yours and watched Mr. Smith nod once, bringing his hand to his chin and curling his fingers around it. “Excellent choices—very responsible of you both to be thinking about your futures.”

“We hope to have a family someday.” Eren said, squeezing your thigh. “We want to do anything we can to support it.”

“I see.” He waved down a waiter and lifted his menu that sat in front of him, ordering his meal, then turning to the both of you, ordering for you.

You were shocked at his choice of order, not only his impertinence at deciding your dinner for you, but the fact that he chose something that you would in fact enjoy. Eren was equally shocked, glancing at you quickly before turning back to Mr. Smith, swallowing his nerves.

“So,” he said, clasping his hands once more. “Tell me a little more about yourselves.”

You went on to indulge his curiosity about you both, and over the night, found yourselves enjoying the dinner.

Mr. Smith was a pleasant man, polite and witty, and even though his eyes never left your tits, you both enjoyed dining with him, even Eren.

When the meals were finished, he paid and advised you both to meet him at his hotel in one hour, giving you the address before parting from you.

You decided to get ice cream while you waited, driving down to a local shop and sitting outside the store, giggling together as you ate your cones.

Eren kissed you many times, reassuring you that you both made the right decision and that everything would be okay, settling your nerves as you sighed happily at his side.

When your hour was up, you stood in front of the large French doors of Mr. Smith’s suite, knocking gently.

A faint voice gave you permission to enter, and you pushed the doors open, stepping in and smelling a wonderful floral aroma, finding fresh bouquets of flowers littering the room, guiding a path around the corner to a separate bedroom of the suite.

As you glanced around, a small smile on your face, you stopped dead in your tracks with wide eyes and a gasp when you found Mr. Smith sat on the couch near the bed, stark naked with his ankle crossed over his knee, one arm draped over the back of the couch, his other resting on his thigh with his long, thick cock in his hand.

Eren came up behind you, asking if you were okay, then reacted the same as he looked up to the sight before you.

“Come on, don’t be shy.” He waved you both into the room and you followed his order, stepping forward quietly.

“I’d like to get started before paying you.”

“O-of course, Mr. Smith,” you mumbled with a nod.

He smiled and motioned to the plush bed. “Now, as a reminder, Eren, I’m not interested in men, so you and I will be pleasuring our girl separately. You first, if you could.”

“Y-yes, sir.” He nodded, unable to take his eyes off the fat cock that was on display before him. Even though he would not be experiencing it himself, he couldn’t help but worry for you, his hand resting on your back, hoping he wouldn’t hurt you too much with his stretch.

“Excellent. There’s lube in the side table, and toys in the drawer beneath if you so choose to use them.”

You both nodded and you sat your bag on the long table beside you, stepping further into the room.

“I want you both to go on as normal, just as you would as if I wasn’t here.” He stroked himself as he looked you up and down, drinking in your bare legs and the curve of your ass beneath your skirt, and once again your perfect tits and the way they swelled over the neckline of your dress.

“Yes, sir,” you said quietly.

Eren walked around to the nightstand and grabbed the bottle of lube, stepping back over to you and setting it on the bed. He awkwardly looked at Mr. Smith for a moment before swallowing and turning to you, taking your hand in his. “It’ll be okay, baby.” He said barely above a whisper, placing a soft kiss on your lips.

You nodded against his mouth and brought your hands to the buttons of his suit jacket, slowly undoing them and pushing it over his shoulders and down his arms.

He let it drop to the floor and wrapped his hands around your waist, untying the belt of your dress as he slipped his tongue into your mouth.

You exhaled happily through your nose and grabbed his hands from your hips, bringing them to your breasts.

It was as if Mr. Smith wasn’t there. The closeness of Eren against you, and the sensual way he removed your clothes and you removed his, you were lost within him, his kisses drowning you in lust as his hands traveled over you and dipped between your legs.

You pulled away from him, lips ghosting his as you breathed heavily at his touch, the way he teased your clit, then slipped his fingers inside of you.

A moan rolled off your tongue, your head leaning back as he fingered you nice and deep, knowing exactly where he could touch you to make you feel good.

Just before he drew an orgasm from you, Mr. Smith’s voice interrupted.

“Don’t let her cum, yet. Lean her over the bed.”

Startled, you both turned to him and nodded, following his order as Eren bent you over the soft mattress, his hand cradling the back of your head.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll make you feel good.” He cooed at you, grabbing the lube from where he laid it.

“I know, dear.” You smiled with a chuckle, wiggling your hips in front of his hard length.

He chuckled as well, stroking his cock with his lube-slicked fingers, then rested his hand on your lower back, nudging your entrance. “You ready?”

“Always ready for you, love.” You breathed, closing your eyes after locking gazes with Mr. Smith.

Eren slid into you, easily from your soaking pussy and the lube, and you both groaned, loving the way he stretched you.

He wanted so badly to take his time with you, but knew he shouldn’t leave Mr. Smith waiting, so he immediately started to fuck you in a way he knew would have you creaming, brushing the head of his cock over your sweet spot over and over, holding one hand on your hip, the other groping your ass.

Mr. Smith swallowed thickly, growing harder in his palm as he watched Eren hump you, watched the way your face contorted, eyes crossing as your chest rattled with moans, Eren slamming his hips into your ass over and over and over.

“Are you on birth control?” He asked you, calling your name loud enough for you to hear him over the sound of Eren panting and groaning about how much he loves you.

“Ye-yes-s, sir-sir, oh!” Your toes curled as you rocked your hips with your boyfriend’s, feeling your orgasm growing near.

“Good—Eren, please cum inside of her. Keep it all in.”

“Yes, sir!” He grunted, bending over your back and sucking on your shoulder, leaving dark circles of his claim over your skin.

“Eren, Eren, please,” you whined, fisting the thick comforter beneath you, leaning your head back. “Baby, gon-gonna cum, I’m cumming!”

He latched his teeth onto your shoulder as you clamped around him, your pussy sucking him in as your juices coated his length, and his climax came shortly after, filling you with his warm, thick seed, and doing his best to follow Mr. Smith’s command to keep it in you, fucking the runny mess back into your hole.

“Love you, baby,” he mumbled into your shoulder blade, trailing kisses down your back. “Love you so much.”

“I love you, Ren,” you mewled, reaching behind you to take his hand.

Your attentions were drawn to Mr. Smith as you heard a deep grunt, and you found him releasing his fluids onto his defined abs and pecs, his fist quickly working over his cock.

He met your eyes, his own hazy with hunger for you. Your squeals and moans made you so desirable, and he was enraptured by the idea of your sweet pussy lips wrapped around his cock while Eren watches him rail you.

He stood, nodding to Eren, who pulled out of you and placed a final kiss on your back.

“Be good, baby.” He whispered, stepping away from you.

Mr. Smith stood behind you and ran his fingers through your sensitive slit, feeling Eren’s cum bubbling over his fingertips while you whimpered and twitched, sliding his pointer and middle into you, pumping slowly, while turning to look at Eren. “Have a seat.”

He nodded and took a place on the couch, hands awkwardly on his knees, his cheeks still red from fucking you.

The burly blond looked back down at you, running his free hand over your back, admiring your soft skin. “You took excellent care of her, Eren. You love her.”

“I do.” Your boyfriend nodded.

“That’s good of you.” Mr. Smith leaned over your body, placing a gentle kiss on the back of your head. “I’m going to start now, hm?”

“Okay,” you whined with a nod, your jaw dropping as his fingertips grazed your g-spot.

He pulled his hand from your cunt and grabbed the lube bottle, pouring a generous amount into his palm, stroking it over his dick.

“I’m a little bigger than Eren sweetie, so be patient with me, okay?”

“Yes, sir.” You breathed, placing your palms on the bed, hands trembling in anticipation.

He looked over at Eren while bending his knees, lining up with your hole. “You can touch yourself, if you feel so inclined.”

Startled by his words, the brunet nodded and carefully rested his hand on his cock.

Turning to you once more, Mr. Smith grabbed your waist with his free hand, then pushed his hips forward to slide into you, taking his time, knowing it would take you a moment to adjust to him.

You covered your mouth with your fingers, eyes wide and watering as you looked at Eren, holding back a choked shriek as the thick length pushing inside you started to stretch you further than you’d ever been stretched before.

Your boyfriend nodded, his eyes telling you everything would be okay, and you nodded back, taking a deep breath.

Once Mr. Smith bottomed out, he held your trembling hips, letting you stretch to fit him, and he leaned over you, touching his lips to your ear. “You’re doing good, sweetie. Relax your hips for me, okay?”

You nodded, inhaling a shaky breath and relaxed your back, wincing at the small sting in your pussy. After a moment, you nodded again, signaling you were ready for him.

He began to rock into you, the tightness of your cunt making it difficult for him to move, but he was soon able to slide in and out of you, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. “Feels good, sweetie,” he growled, pulling your hips back as his thrusts began to quicken.

You moaned with each slap of his heavy balls against your clit, each snap of his hips, your body jerking as he fucked you.

You could see Eren growing hard again in his hand, and he nodded at you reassuringly, stroking himself.

Your eyes fluttered shut, Mr. Smith’s cock beginning to graze you in a way that had your belly tightening and your core clenching around him. “S-sir,” you hiccuped. “Sir, pl-please—”

“Yes?” He grabbed your arms and pulled you up from the bed, holding you up as he pounded into you.

“I-I-I—! Ah! Sir!” Your head fell forward, your body thrusting forward as he fucked you, your legs barely supporting you.

“Tell me what you want, sweetie, you can have it.” His face flushed with pink, grunting as he looked over at Eren to confirm he was watching.

His eyes locked with the emerald ones across from him, and his pace quickened, turned on at the sight of Eren pleasuring himself to seeing his girlfriend getting fucked by someone bigger than him.

You began to cry, the pain turning into pleasure, hot waves rolling over your body as your next orgasm built up. “Can’t! Can’t stand!”

Mr. Smith dropped you, but scooped his hands under your hips and lifted your feet from the floor, straightening his knees and losing control over his pace, throwing his head back while he groaned your name.

You sobbed into the bed, your body spasming as you came, knees bending and back arching.

He fucked you through your high, hissing as he spilled into your abused pussy, keeping his pace to make sure his own release mixed with Eren’s until it was deep inside of you.

“Mr. Smith, please!” You shouted, clawing at the ruined comforter beneath you.

“Just a little more, sweetie.” He groaned, feeling you flutter around him again as he felt your third orgasm wrack through your body.

You cried and cried, your body so fucked out and feeling so good, limbs and back trembling as he rested you on the bed, pushing your legs up let you lie down comfortably.

He looked over at Eren and watched the boy’s lips quiver, tears running down his face, cum dripping down his stomach and fingers.

“Come to bed, Eren.” Mr. Smith panted, waving him over.

He nodded and scrambled to join you in the large bed, pulling you close to him and massaging your muscles and joints.

The blond walked around to the side of the bed and leaned down to kiss your hair, looking at Eren once more. “You both did wonderful tonight. Sleep here, and expect your money in your accounts first thing in the morning.” He placed another kiss on your shoulder and met your exhausted gaze. “Breakfast will be serviced to you at 7am. You have my email address if you need anything else.”

You both nodded, and Mr. Smith tucked you into bed, cuddled around one another, then excused himself to the restroom, cleaned himself up, and slipped out of the suite shortly after you fell asleep in your boyfriend’s arms.

Lue Arlert’s 100 Followers First Date Event - CLOSED

[twokinkybeans]

Hello! I absolutely love all of your stories! I have a request, can you do a Starker story where Peter and his class go on a field trip to stark tower? I don’t really mind what happens there I just really want to see the ship. If you can thanks so much 💗

THIS GOT OUT OF HAND SO HERE IS CHAPTER 1/3!

Tower Excursions - Chapter 1: Science Rules

(Read it on AO3)

Summary: Peter is 9 years old. Parents still alive. Still friends with Flash. They go on an excursion to Stark Industries, right before the events of Iron Man 2. Side note: Tony is not romantically/sexually interested in Peter until chapter 3, when they are in an established relationship. Warnings: Even though Peter and Flash are still friends in this chapter, Flash is already bullying him. Other than that, not much, tbh?

Rating: Mature (just to be sure for later on lol).

I hope you enjoy! -Lien

...

“Mister Thompson, you’re old enough to know you shouldn’t stand in a driving bus, please take a seat,” the young teacher sighs while tightening the pony tail on her head. They’re nearly at Stark Tower now, so obviously it was difficult for most students to keep their cool. They all showed it in their own way. Flash got even more talkative and jumpy, something Peter never understood. They’re best friends, have been since kindergarten, and they know each other inside and out. When excitement hit Peter, he turned more inward, like a star waiting to implode, as opposed to Flash’s bomb waiting to explode. They were opposites, yet it fit. Obviously, the school wanted to go to Stark Tower to get them interested in science and technology, something both Flash and Peter already kind of were. However, anybody who cared even the slightest, was more excited to get a glimpse of Tony Stark. Of Iron Man. The metal hero. Even though the chances were slim, they couldn’t help but bounce on the bus seats. Because, what if… The class was going to go and do some kind of interactive walk through the building’s public spaces, with one special look inside a child-friendly lab. Erica had quietly asked how they would be able to get inside a dog and Mrs. Marie had to calmly explain that a laboratory and a Labrador are two very different things. … About two hours after they arrived, they’re in the child-friendly lab. During the tour of the building, nearly everyone forgot about Tony Stark. The place itself is wonderous and gigantic. It’s filled with moving gadgets and displays of future technology. The famous Arc Reactor gets promoted on pretty much every banner they pass. The students were allowed way more than they were at Oscorp two weeks earlier. Stark Industries sure sparked the kids’ interest in science and technology, as was the goal of this trip. Most of the other students were involved in the interactive tests, but Peter had seen all of that fairly quickly. He wanted to know more about the science behind it- he didn’t just want to watch it happen. Peter was all over the place. He’s wearing his dad’s favorite “Science Rules” cap – he was allowed to borrow it for the day – and bounces from desk to desk, asking endless questions that the pedagogically trained scientists answered accordingly. Some seemed surprised by Peter’s brightness, but the young boy didn’t really notice as he was usually quickly distracted by the next shiny project someone else was working on. With a short: “Thank you, bye!” he made his way to the other scientists in the room. “Peter, check this out!” Peter rushes towards Flash, who called for him. The boy has his face pressed against a glass balustrade that looks out over four levels of open space. “What is it?” Peter asks as he mimics Flash’s pose, pressing his open palms and his nose on the surface. “Are you blind?!” Flash exclaims, nodding at the ground floor, two floors below them. Peter follows his friend’s gaze and gasps when he spots him. “Tony Stark!” Both kids immediately waddle their feet in their place, not daring to look away from the legend who is having a casual chat with a red-haired woman. Peter and Flash giggle with delight, but eventually fall silent. “We should go say hi,” Flash whispers. “We- We can go say hi!” “As if! I’m not going down there,” Peter replies, not taking his eyes off Tony. “He’s probably super busy.” Peter is startled when he notices Flash reaching out for him. The boy grabs Peter’s father’s cap from his head and swiftly tosses it over the balustrade. “Flash! No!” Peter shouts as he stands up straight to reach over the fence in an attempt to grasp the cap. When he fails, all both kids can do is watch the hat fall and fall and fall and it seems to take forever before… Thunk. Flash’s face pales and he runs off, leaving Peter – who is frozen in fear – behind. The boy is stuck, clutching the balustrade with both hands as he stares wide-eyed at how Tony Stark picks up the cap that hit his shoulder on the way down. He reads the words that are on it and then looks up, making eye contact with Peter. The boy is so caught up that he barely notices security freaking out around Tony for what happened, but the man dampens the situation by raising the cap above his head and pointing at it with his free hand, nodding up at Peter. “This yours?” … Peter took the blame. He didn’t want Flash to get in trouble and so, both he and Mrs. Marie get taken to a separate room by security. The woman chuckles nervously, certain that she screwed up for losing track of Peter, and that she’ll never be allowed back in Stark Industries. Peter just feels massive guilt for inconveniencing so many people. After a minute of scared silence, the door opens. “But, sir-“ “It’s alright.” Peter perks up at the voice he has heard on TV so much. He turns, jaw slack, as he looks up in awe at Tony Stark, wearing his cap. The man’s attention turns from the security guard to Peter. “Mister Stark, I am so sorry-“ Mrs. Marie stands up and squeezes her hands together, bowing her head in shame. “Don’t worry about it. If I didn’t want things like this to happen I wouldn’t have opened my labs to youngsters.” Something about Tony’s words seems off, like he was frustrated that she distracted him from why he was here. “You can go, I wanna talk to the boy. Alone.” “Tha- sir, that’s highly unorthodox-“ Mrs. Marie protests, but one stern look has her press her lips together. “Just wanna talk about the cap.” Tony shows a tight smile and gestures at the door. “Besides, I believe you still have three hours left to keep an eye on your other students during this excursion.” Mrs. Marie rushes out after quickly thanking Tony for not being in trouble. He leaves the door open and sits down in the desk chair opposite Peter. “Richard Parker?” Tony says casually as he places his feet on top of the desk and cocking his head. He takes off the cap and shows the little label with the handwritten name inside of it. “Tha- ehm…” Peter stutters. “My dad,” he pushes out quickly. “Huh,” Tony says with a curt nod, turning the cap to look at the front again. “Smart guy. Had a couple chats with him a while back.” Peter’s eyes widen in shock. “You know my dad?” “I mean, he’s not in my phone’s contact list, but we’ve had some talks at conventions before.” Tony puts his feet down and leans forward. His elbows rest on the desk. Peter frowns slightly when he sees some dark lines in Tony’s neck. Are those his veins? “Which has me wonder if you’re bright as he is.” “I’m nine,” Peter retorts without thinking. Tony snorts surprised and can’t help a chuckle. “You sure are.” The man seems to ponder for a bit and then he tosses the cap on the desk. “Tell you what, kid.” Peter swallows, scared that this is the hour of reckoning. As much as Tony doesn’t seem angry, Peter is still afraid that he will get punished for what happened. “You get to ask me one question.” The boy frowns again, so Tony quickly continues. “If it’s a good one, you get your cap back and you can go.” Peter opens his mouth, immediately knowing what to say, but Tony raises his index finger, stopping the kid from talking with just a gesture. “If it’s a great one, I’ll give you a tour of the place myself.” Peter immediately wants to ask what the difference between a good and a great question is, but realizes that would be an immediate throwaway of the one question he is allowed to ask. The stakes are high, he can’t screw this up. He licks his lips and takes a breath. His head bows down to look at his fiddling fingers and then back up, noticing the faint glow coming through Tony’s dress shirt. “I read somewhere that the arc reactor uses cool fusion to regulate temperature…” Tony’s eyebrows shoot up surprised. “But I- when we went to Oscorp two weeks ago, we talked about nuclear energy and there someone said the most ideal element to use for cool fusion is palladium.” Peter swallows. “If that is in your body… How do you keep it from poisoning you?” The man’s jaw tightens and his expression sterns. “Still working on that,” he mumbles, nearly quiet enough for it to go past Peter. Peter blinks. Once. Twice. Did he just ask a question even Tony Stark himself has no answer to? No sound is made for a full minute. Peter can hear his heartbeat thump between his ears, though his breathing is slow. “How old did you say you are?” Utter disbelief seeps from Tony’s words. “Nine, sir.” “Jesus Christ.” “Does that mean it was a great question?” This time, it’s Tony who blinks. Once. Twice. “Yes, kid.”

[shadedrose01]

Teddy Bear Blues

Ship: Parkner (Harley Keener/Peter Parker)

Summary: Harley is grieving on the one year anniversary of his mother's death. Peter makes him a gift to help him feel better.

Tags: Febufluff, Day 16, teddy bear, Grief/Mourning, Mourning, Loss, Mentions of violence/character death but it's pretty vague, Harleys mom died, And hes grieving, Harley Keener Needs a Hug, Sad Harley Keener, peter Parker is a good boyfriend, and tries his best to help, Tony is here too, but barely, Established Relationship, Love

Day 16 of Febufluff: "Teddy Bear"! (From the romantic/ original list)

Note: read the tags. This fic deals with grief, and the aftermath of the loss of a loved one. It isnt extremely detailed, but it's in the majority of this fic. If that's not your speed, or if that hits a little too close to home, then please don't read. Be safe, take care, I love you all ❤

--

It happens gradually, as grief usually does. It starts with Harley going out less, making more excuses as to why he has to stay home, whether it be homework or studying, or that he's "just tired" and needs to rest. Then, it's losing energy, losing interest in things he used to love, not getting as excited at the idea of a new game being announced, not enjoying the annual movie/board game nights with the Avengers as he used to, not making snarky responses and witty one liners, not seeming as upbeat, as happy as he used to.

And now, Peter notes as he watches Harley swirl around his cereal with his spoon, head bowed, bags under his eyes and an expressionless, tired look on his face, its lack of appetite, and lack of sleep. Of feeling hungry, but not being able to stomach more than a few bites. Of not having nightmares, of being tired, exhausted even, and still not being able to fall asleep.

He had been doing much better with the sadness, with the overwhelming grief these past few months, had almost gotten back to being himself again, before this new milestone had hit, sucking all of the life right back out of him and leaving him as a quiet, lifeless corpse. The first year. The first anniversary of his mother's death, of her being gone from his life. Peter remembers it well, remembers how he felt with his parents, with Uncle Ben, and feels a pang almost like a knife carve into his chest, into his heart, wonders what he can do to ease the terrible ache he knows Harley is feeling.

He knows there isnt much he can do, besides be there by his side and comfort him however he can, but that doesn't feel like enough. He can't just sit there and watch his boyfriend recluse into himself and be in all this pain without doing anything, without doing more.

So, once Harley finally gives up, pushing away his bowl and mumbling about getting ready for school, walking back to his room with his shoulders slumped, head down, looking so unbelievably sad that it makes Peter's heart break, he starts to think. Thinks back to the first year after Ben, what he felt, what he wanted. Remembers laying in bed all day, sobbing his eyes out, feeling so unbelievably guilting, just wanting him back. Wanting to smell his smell, feel his hugs, his kisses, wanting to hear his voice one last time...

Wait. Peter sits up straight, eyes widening as an idea sparks in his mind. Maybe, maybe he could work with that. He shoots out of the chair, heading straight to the lab. He remembers a while ago, when working in the lab, Harley randomly mentioned that he kept a few home videos in there, in the closet, and watched them occasionally on the good days, on reminiscence on the good times his family had before everything happened. And he remembers one day, a few months after him and Harley started dating, when he got the honor to watch one with Harley, remembers the stereotypical baby in the bathtub video, remembers Harleys adorably chubby cheeks, remembers what his mom said at the end of the video, right before it clicks off into black.

He searches in the closet, quickly finding the box of tapes before pulling out what he thinks is the right one, before putting into the player he digged out a few minutes earlier. He fast forward through the adorableness, a man on a mission, before playing it at normal speed right at the end, right as Harleys mothers voice, soft and warm and sweet, says the exact words he remembered. Perfect, its perfect. He takes the tape back out of the player, and brings it over to his workstation, already scribbling out a blue print for his idea.

--

Peter wakes up a few days later, feeling uneasy, a heaviness in the air as soon as he opens his eyes. He taps his phone to check the time, and sees the date, sighing long and low. November 16th. A whole year after the death of Macy Keener.

Peter and Harley werent really close when it happened, he had never even meet her, but he definitely remembers the day it happened. When Harley's phone rang out during their class, and he answered it with a grin, thinking nothing of it. When the grin fell off his face, slipping into shock, horrific shock and fear and agony, when tears filled and pooled over his eyes, ran down his cheeks. When he had placed a hand over his mouth and sobbed loudly, the horrible, awful, heartbreaking sound echoing in the classroom, the other students going silent as he ran out, Peter calling his name and running after him, worried sick. When Harley had babbled and cried and screeched into his shoulder, telling him that his mama had gotten into a bad car accident, that she had died, that "She's gone, Peter, she's gone, oh God-". When Tony had picked them both up, looking older than he had in a long, long time.

Peter shakes his thoughts away, trying to focus on the here and the now. He needs to be strong today, for Harley. He takes a deep breath, and forces himself out to bed, throwing on a random pair of pjs and a shirt, knowing that they arent going to be going anywhere today. He then makes his way to the kitchen, unsurprisingly seeing Mr. Stark making breakfast, flipping chocolate chip pancakes (Harley's favorite) before his gaze lands on the boy in question, his heart dropping when he does.

Harley is upright, sitting at one of the stoods at the island of the kitchen, but hes hunched over as if staying upright is just too much work, as if he has the world's weight on his shoulders, his hair a mess and his stormy sea eyes lined with red, blank, staring off into oblivion, cheeks already tear stained.

Peter let's out another soft sigh at the pitiful sight, sharing a sympathetic glance with Mr. Stark before walking quietly to his boyfriend, running a tender hand his tense back and shoulders, hugging him from behind and kissing the top of his bowed head, lingering, hopefully comforting. "Good morning, baby." He whispers into Harley's hair, rubbing his shoulders in firm, soothing circles, easing out the knots forming in his back.

"Morning." Is the soft, shaky response, Harley's voice drained of emotion, filled with exhaustion, with ache and loss. Tony looks surprised, like that's the first time Harley's spoken today. It probably was.

Peter places his chin on the top of his boyfriend's head, continuing his comforting motions as he murmurs gently "How are you feeling, love?"

He feels Harley swallow, before he's shaking his head and ducking out of Peter's grasp, putting his forehead against the granite and practically curling into a ball, looking smaller than he ever has as his entire body shutters with a silent sob. Peter blinks the tears out of his own eyes, before gently pulling the crumbling boy into his arms, placing his face into the crook of his neck and his arms around his waist, around his back. "Its okay, let it out, baby, its okay." He whispers over and over as he runs a hand up and down his back, as he feels a wet patch growing on his shirt collars, as Harley's sobs grow from silent to agonizingly loud, from sniffles and hicks, whimpers and wails, his body shuttering from the intensity of it all.

After a while, too long for Peter to keep count, the boy settles back down a bit, but doesnt let go, doesn't pull away, burying his face further into Peter's chest as he mumbles, voice thick with mucus, heavy with pain, "I miss her so much."

"I know, sweetheart, I know." Peter presses another light kiss to Harleys temple, squeezing his body as another shutter runs through him.

Harley's breath hicks, his eyes squeezing closed, another stray tear running down his face. "Does it ever get better? Does it ever- ever go away?"

Peter glances back up at Tony, who's dark brown eyes are sad, cloudy, full of empathy. "It does." The man says quietly, seriously. "The grief, the pain, it fades over time. You'll always feel it a bit, in your heart, but it does get better."

Peter nods to reaffirm his point, leaning the side of his head against Harleys. "The pain, the loss goes away, but the memories, the love, those don't. They always stay, right here," he presses a hand gently to Harleys chest, "and here." And then to his head, running his hand into the ryestalk strands, curling them around his fingers. "She'll always be with you, Harley. Always. And..." Peter swallows, suddenly feeling nervous, wondering if this was a good idea after all. "I got you something to help."

Harley pulls his head away and looks up at him, eyebrows furrowed slightly and blotchy face scrunched up in confusion. "You got me something?"

"Mhm," he nods again, easing Harley off of him and back into his chair as he stands, "wait here." He rushes back to his room, grabbing the gift he had finished last night. He runs a thumb over the soft brown plush of the teddy bear's belly, where the speaker was hidden, feeling nerves swirling up inside him. He just hopes that Harley likes it, and that it doesnt backfire, and make everything so much worse.

He carries it gently as he walks back to the kitchen, holding out to a now even more bewildered Harley. But theres a twitch of a smile on his lips, so he isn't against it yet, gazing at Peter curiously. "Squeeze it." Peter says simply, fidgeting with the stray strings on the ends of his shirt, praying this ends well.

Harley does as he's told, squeezing the bear in his hands, and immediately bursts into tears again when the soft voice of his mother comes through the speaker, full of an unspeakable, unbreakable love that only a mother could give, "I love you, sugarbear. I always will."

Peter panics, thinking the worst, starting to speak up with an "I'm- I'm sorry-" before he gets cut off by the boy rushing into his arms, hugging him tightly with a loud sob and a "thank you, thank you so much, I love you so- so much". Peter feels relief roll over him in waves, he didnt mess it up thank god, and hugs him back tightly, pressing another kiss to his boyfriend wet cheek and mumbling into his ear, soft and full of adoration, "I love you too. More than you'll ever know."

Things may not be truly okay, truly alright with Harley right now. They might not be for a long, long time, but that's fine. Because Peter will be here, by Harley's side, holding him close, kissing away his sorrow, for as long as he can. As long as Harley allows it, Peter will be by his side, no matter what.

[amaranthinecanicular]

hardly a time for sobriety

Maybe too much eggnog? Maybe too much eggnog. Alfred, elementary math teacher extraordinaire, has had it bad for the high school AP English teacher ever since he subbed in for the elementary school librarian, but this is definitely the first time he’s told anyone about it. It’s also the first time he’s described it as having “the hottie hot hots for Professor Snack over there.” 

[Written for @sterndecorum (a million years late, as per usual) for the 2018 @usuknetwork Gift Exchange. I’m so sorry, but I hope you enjoy! Happy belated holidays!]

....

Maybe too much eggnog? Maybe too much eggnog. Like, Alfred has had it bad for the high school AP English teacher ever since he subbed in for the elementary school librarian, but this is definitely the first time he’s told anyone about it. It’s also the first time he’s described it as having “the hottie hot hots for Professor Snack over there.” Elizaveta, who teaches art, looks delighted. Kiku, the librarian, looks profoundly uncomfortable.

Alfred tries to grimace but it feels kind of sloppy on his face. “Don’t think I meant to say that. Too much eggnog?”

“Too much eggnog,” Kiku confirms. At the same time Elizaveta says, “Are you kidding? Not enough eggnog. I’ve had to watch you pine away every time Kirkland drops off lunch for his brother. You are ending my misery tonight.”

She hands Alfred another plastic cup of ‘nog while Kiku makes a despairing noise in the back of his throat. It is possible that Elizaveta has also had too much eggnog. Sober Alfred would probably be embarrassed to learn that his affections have been transparent for the last several months. Sober Alfred might also call it quits on the alcohol before he really makes a poor decision amongst all his coworkers and peers. Sober Alfred has left the building, thank god, because that guy is a drag.

He takes some fortifying gulps of his new drink and spies stealthily--he hopes it’s stealthy, he sure feels stealthy--on Arthur from across the faculty room, which was definitely not meant to accommodate this many drunk teachers. He’s chatting with the high school French teacher and the severe-looking middle school principal. (The holiday party is district wide this year. It’s a cutbacks thing.) It’s hard to tell if Arthur is enjoying the conversation or not. Mostly he’s scowling. It’s ten kinds of adorable. So is his stodgy old man sweater vest. Alfred wants to kiss his eyebrows.

“Please never say that again,” says Kiku in a strained voice. Whoops, that last part may have been out loud. Too much eggnog. He takes another sip anyway.

“Hey, s’your fault for calling in sick that day,” he says. September fourteenth, two PM, Alfred will never forget it. He walked the kids from math to the library and he thought hey it’s that one grumpy asshole and then the grumpy asshole spoke all soft and sweet to the kids and he read Charlotte’s Web so pretty and Alfred’s next thought was oh shit oh fuck I’m going to marry him someday. And that was completely sober. “Shame on you for marathoning the Silent Hill games so early in the school year. And also for not inviting me. No one but y’rself to blame.”

Kiku takes a grim sip of his tea. Yeesh, tea at a holiday party. “I am aware.”

Just then the French teacher laughs loudly enough for Alfred to hear it. A hand lands on Arthur’s shoulder. In the fuzzy recesses of his brain two stray thoughts connect with a spark: laughing and touching counts as flirting. The French teacher flirting with Arthur. The French teacher marrying Arthur, which would seriously impede Alfred’s plans to marry Arthur. The French teacher must die.

Well, okay, no, he doesn’t have to die die. But Alfred has to kill his chances. He mumbles something to Elizaveta and Kiku that might be an explanation or might just be drunken gibberish and he marches off in Arthur’s direction. The middle school principal is gone, off talking to a guy Alfred thinks might be the middle school Italian teacher. He wants to put his hand on Arthur’s shoulder like the French teacher did, but he doesn’t trust his buzzy fingers. His hands end up in his pockets instead. “Hey there, Mr. Kirkland. Fancy meeting you here,”

Arthur turns. So does the French teacher, but Alfred notices that peripherally. Maybe Arthur’s scowl softens a little to see him. Maybe that’s just Alfred’s drunk brain talking.

“Francis,” Arthur says to the French teacher, “Isn’t your presence required elsewhere?”

“And where would that be, mon cher?” says Francis, with a leer in Alfred’s direction. Arthur grits his teeth.

“Literally anywhere else.”

“Ah, yes, of course. An appointment I cannot miss. Joyeux Noël, my friends!” He flounces toward the refreshment table, and gives Alfred a wink on the way. It might be flirty, or it might be… a good luck wink? Is that a thing? He doesn’t really know, and he really doesn’t care. Arthur returns his attention to Alfred with a raised brow.

“Mr. Jones. Glad to see you’ve decided a conversation with me is preferable to staring.”

Ouch. Not so stealthy. “Ha, yeah. Didn’t want to interrupt earlier. So, are you and Mr. Frenchy an item, or?”

Okay, wow, not what he meant to say. Bad eggnog, no more eggnog. Luckily Arthur seems too appalled by the suggestion itself to be creeped out by Alfred suggesting it. “Good lord, no. Francis and I? The mere thought is repulsive. I may gag.”

“Oof, wouldn’t want that. Glad to hear it, though. I was worried.”

Arthur’s eyes snap up. Too strong? Maybe.

“Were you?” he says, and whoa, not too strong, apparently. Not too strong at all.

Alfred, smooth and confident in the way of the inebriated, says, “Wanna go to IHOP?”

....

The truth is it’s only half Kiku’s fault. The library incident wasn’t the first time Alfred met Arthur. For the past two years Peter Kirkland has been in Alfred’s rotating fourth and fifth grade math classes—a good kid, high energy and real bright—which meant parent teacher conferences with his brother and guardian. It’s… safe to say they didn’t get off on the right foot. Alfred has handled rude parents before. Whatever! Usually his incredible charm and wit were enough to makeup for it. But no, not with Mr. Kirkland. Mr. Kirkland was tenured, he had years of experience on naive little green-gilled elementary teacher Alfred, and in his professional opinion problem children like Peter needed to be disciplined rather than coddled, and quite frankly he did not think much of Alfred’s nonsensical, feel-good, soft-bellied teaching methods.

In response Alfred had maybe called him a crabby old geezer, and maybe mentioned something about teaching an old dog new tricks, and maybe that was all the PG version. Arthur Kirkland was nothing more to Alfred than a grumpy asshole. Albeit a grump with great bone structure and a sexy accent.

And then Arthur subbed in for Kiku, and everything was different.

“Here we are!”

Alfred sweeps into a bow and scoots Arthur’s chair out for him because he’s a gentleman. (At this time of night the IHOP is a seat yourself kind of establishment.) There’s cheery Christmas music playing over the speakers. Alfred wanted the corner booth—much more romantic—but some gooey-eyed teens are hogging it. Stupid gooey-eyed teens.

“Here we are indeed,” says Arthur. He’s eyeing the vinyl cushion like it carries a venereal disease. “Honestly, half the reason I agreed to come was because I wanted to see if you were taking the piss. But lo and behold: The International House of Pancakes.” He takes a seat. Gingerly. “That name always struck me as overly dignified for this establishment.”

“Hey, don’t hate. I eat breakfast here once a week.” The elementary school is across town, but it’s worth the drive. Thank god the high school is within walking distance. He adds, “So, that was only half the reason, huh? What was the other half?”

Arthur taps the side of his nose. “I’m very certain I’m not drunk enough to tell you.”

Alfred remembers, suddenly, what drink Arthur had been nursing at the Christmas party. He grins a slow grin. “You were spiking your tea, Artie?”

Arthur flushes, maybe because he’s a little drunker than Alfred thought, but probably because Alfred just called him Artie. Good idea, drunk Alfred.

“Only because conversation with Francis was otherwise intolerable. I much prefer talking to you.” He gets a look on his face like he just heard what he said, and he flushes even prettier. “Don’t get the wrong idea. A Christmas ham would be a better conversation partner than that frog.”

Any further research into how pink Alfred can make Arthur blush is interrupted by the arrival of their waitress. She’s new, a friendly girl named Michelle who smiles a lot and takes quick notes. By the time she’s got their order—a tea for Arthur, a little of everything for Alfred—Alfred has learned that she’s studying speech pathology, she’s home for holiday break, and that she got her sister a dinosaur building kit for Christmas.

“Oh sweet, what kind of dinosaur?” says Alfred.

“A ceratosaurus,” says Michelle.

“Ooh, deep cut! Nice!”

They high five. Alfred asks, “You don’t have any eggnog, do you?”

“I’m afraid not. We have eggnog pancakes, though, how does that sound?”

Arthur gags quietly. Alfred ignores this. “Sounds awesome! I’ll have an order of those too.”

After she walks away Alfred addresses the look on Arthur’s face. “Yes, professor?”

“You want to drink more of that swill?” he says, all dubious like.

“Dude! Eggnog is the drink of the season.”

“There are many drinks of the season. Sherry. Scotch. Brandy. Tea.”

“By that logic you’ll spend the whole holiday break completely sloshed.”

Arthur chuckles. “The holidays are hardly a time for sobriety.”

Alfred can’t really argue with that. “I’m pretty sure you drink tea all the time.”

“Because tea is a drink for every season.”

This is the moment that Michelle returns with the tea, because apparently she has a great sense of dramatic timing. Arthur prepares the cup and smirks at Alfred over the rim, as though that proves his point at all, and all Alfred can think about is how tea is a much more charming drink in Arthur’s hand than it is in Kiku’s. Alfred wants to know more about the kind of tea he drinks. He wants to learn how to make the perfect cup, so he can make it for Arthur every day. He wants to know Arthur’s opinion on coffee. What his favorite food is. If he likes cats or dogs. He looks like a cat person. What was his home life like? Where in Britain did he grow up? Did he always want to be a teacher? Alfred wants to know… everything. He never wants to stop learning about him.

He says, “Tell me more about yourself.”

Arthur goes very still. “Why?”

“Because this is a date.” Sober Alfred is pretty direct. Drunk Alfred isn’t much different.

Now Arthur goes very red. “I’m afraid there’s not much to tell.”

“That can’t be true. Why’d you come to America? Got tired of jolly old England?”

“My goodness, no. My heart will always belong to my dearest Albion.” Alfred suspects that’s an old nerdy name for England, but he can’t be sure. He’s a math whiz, not a history buff. “No, it was just typical family drama. Peter and I hopped across the pond to escape it. All very British, very boring.”

Maybe Arthur is a little more guarded as he says that. And wistful. The peppy Jingle Bell Rock has transitioned to the crooning I’ll Be Home For Christmas and suddenly Alfred is very sad. He wants to say so. He wants to say that Arthur’s family doesn’t deserve him or Peter, and that he can tell Alfred anything, everything, because he’ll never hurt him the way they did. But even smashed he can tell that Arthur doesn’t want to talk about it, so instead he says, “How is Peter?”

Arthur’s face softens. “A wee little shite, as per usual. He’s at a sleepover right now. But he’s doing better in maths, at least.”

He raises his cup in a small, half-ironic toast to Alfred’s awesome teaching skills. Alfred tries not to preen and isn’t so sure he succeeds.  “Yeah, well, he’s a good kid. They all are. They make my job easy.”

“I doubt that,” Arthur snorts. “But you are Peter’s favorite teacher, which is saying something. He absolutely hated maths before you came along.” His tone turns thoughtful. He rests his chin in his palm. “You’re good with him. Good with all of them, I see it when I drop off Peter’s lunch. Though I maintain that you could stand to be a little more disciplinary.”

“You’re good with them too,” Alfred says, high on a cloud of Arthur’s regard. “You subbed in for Kiku once. I saw you. It was really sweet, and I realized…”

This is what Alfred realized after he saw Arthur in the library: Mr. Tenured Teacher, Sir High and Mighty, Cynicism and Discipline Incarnate, is a huge fucking softie. He quilts, crochets, and embroiders. (Thank you Kiku, mutual friend with all the secrets.) He’s hard on his students but he refuses to let any of them fail. (Also Kiku.) He criticizes Peter and the quality of his education because he cares—like, really really cares. Alfred picked up on that himself. He brings the kid homemade lunch every day. He leaves him notes in his lunchbox. Alfred’s not proud to admit it but he peeked over Peter’s shoulder the one time he pulled one out in math. It read: Always cover your mouth when you sneeze or cough. I love you. Alfred is willing to bet every note has some banal tidbit of advice and closes out the same way. If he and Arthur got together, would Arthur slip him notes, too? I love you.

“You realized?”

Arthur is watching him, has been watching him, and his eyes are super green, all bright and Christmassy under the IHOP fluorescents. Alfred is pretty sure the teens in the corner booth are watching them now but he’s also pretty sure he doesn’t care. There are so many things he could say and they all crowd together in his throat, vying for favor. In the time it takes for him to pick the perfect one Michelle arrives with the food, and the moment passes.

A veritable feast of greasy breakfast foods lands on the table: pancakes, waffles, eggs. Bacon and sausage. Various assortments of fruit and butter and jam. Alfred nudges forward his eggnog pancakes. “Want a bite?”

Arthur grimaces. “Absolutely not. That looks utterly unappetizing.”

Alfred will not deny this. Most of the food is green for some Grinch promotional thing IHOP is doing, but hey, at least it’s festive. And delicious. Alfred says so.

“No thank you.” Arthur’s stomach says otherwise. “Well. Those eggs look edible, I suppose.”

They eat (Alfred eats, Arthur pecks) and they chat, and it’s magical. Arthur tells funny stories about Peter’s terrible twos, grudgingly and then not so grudgingly, and Alfred talks about his brother and his totally-not-pot farm in Canada.

He’s finally sobering up—all the greasy food helps—and the night never gets any less magical. It feels more magical somehow.

He says, “So, have I made you an IHOP convert?”

Arthur sighs, theatrically put upon. “I suppose it’s charming, in a slovenly way. Something like you.”

Alfred rolls his eyes. “Ooh, you’re making me blush. Tell me more.”

But Arthur doesn’t tell him more because he’s too busy giving the stink eye to something over Alfred’s shoulder. Ah. The booth teens. Alfred gives a very extremely subtle glance back… yeah, wow, they are going at it. Teenage hormones are no joke.

“Kids these days, honestly. They should be studying,” Arthur seethes.

“For what? It’s Friday and classes are over next week,” says Alfred, but before he can finish his sentence Arthur has struck like a god damn cobra and stolen a bit of hashbrown and chucked it at the booth. It occurs to Alfred that Arthur might still be pretty hammered. How much rum did he put in his tea, for real?

It plops square in a mug of hot chocolate. At a loss for what else to do, Alfred kind of shriek laughs. “Oh my god, are you twelve?”

He dares a peek back at the spluttering teenagers and then back to Arthur and--Arthur is shrugging at the teens and pointing at Alfred. “You are twelve! Traitor!”

He spoons whipped cream off the top of his hot chocolate and daubs Arthur’s nose with it. For a second Arthur looks fit to bust, and sure a drunken temper tantrum sounds cute but it might lose Alfred a chance at a second date. Then Arthur reaches over the table, scoops the whole pile of whipped cream from the plate of pancakes with his bare hand, and smears it all over Alfred’s face.

While Arthur is cackling, Alfred says, “Marry me.”

Arthur stops cackling. He stares, and under the weight of it Alfred sobers up the rest of the way all at once. Did he just ruin everything? Of course he did. Drunk Alfred, that dumbass, always ruins everything and now he’s going to die old and alone, dreaming about what could have been if only he hadn’t asked Arthur Kirkland to marry him in an IHOP.

“Snrk,” says Arthur.

That’s the sound he makes—snrk. Then he’s snorting, then he’s laughing, and it’s inelegant and undignified and Alfred is in love.

“So is that a yes?” he says, and Arthur gives him a narrow look. He wipes his face with a napkin—Alfred belatedly follows suit—and flags Michelle down for the check.

Arthur scoffs, “You think I’d say yes to a proposal on a first date? In the International House of Pancakes?”

He’s not mad. Alfred can hardly believe it. He still has a chance. “Hey, depends on the date.”

They split the bill. Arthur is the faster tipper so in return Alfred pays for the Uber. The teens are gone from the booth, though Alfred didn’t see them leave. They’re not in the parking lot either, which is good, because it would be super awkward to have to wait for the Uber with them.

The air is cold. They’re standing very near. The sky is heavy and close with clouds, but Arthur is watching it like he might see the stars beyond. After a second, Alfred does too.

He says to the sky, “Wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no, either.”

And Arthur says to the sky, “Don’t push your luck, Mr. Jones. We hardly know each other. Even you can’t be that idealistic.”

There’s not enough liquid bravery left in Alfred’s veins to tell Arthur that he is.

The Uber arrives. Arthur offers to share, but Alfred lives too far from the high school to leave his car there. He opens the door for Arthur. He closes the door for Arthur. It’s stupid but the thought of saying goodbye to him right now—not forever, not even for a whole weekend—is breaking his heart. He doesn’t know how to end tonight. Doesn’t know if they’re leaving on a good note or a bad one.

“Ask me again.”

The window is rolled down. Arthur is watching him. His eyes are glowing and his cheeks are pink and his breath is misting in the air, so Alfred can see the exact shape of his words when he says, “Later. Much, much later. Many dates from now. In a restaurant that lives up to its name, and preferably when we’re not both completely crocked. Ask me again. Maybe then I’ll be as idealistic as you.”

Alfred can’t think of a single thing to say and so he doesn’t. He leans down and Arthur leans up and the angle is awkward because Arthur is dangling half out a window but Alfred is certain he’s never had a more perfect kiss in all his life.

Joy is light, effervescent. It fizzes and bubbles and buoys Alfred and he wonders if there was alcohol in those eggnog pancakes after all. He watches the tail lights twinkle off into the night, and then he turns to start the trek back to the high school. He’s going to have to wait out the last of the buzz in his car, but he can’t bring himself to feel too bothered. It’s the holidays, after all. Hardly a time for sobriety. Overhead, it begins to snow.

[codename-bewareofthefangirl]

Messed Up

Hi!

A few days ago I read these headcanons about the Bakugou Family by the lovely @cutekirikitty and I felt so inspired, enough to beat for a night my writer's block. Sooooo... this is the result. I wanted to write a ff revolving around Mitsuki, that I headcanon as a very complex and beautiful mother figure. I believe she may have had a past similar to his son, especially due to her flaming personality, and I don’t believe that just because she became a mother all her issues have magically disappeared. Parenting is hard and there’s no guide to it. That’s why I love her so much. I hope you enjoy this ff as much as me!

And thank you again Cutekirikitty for reading and betaing and helping me to improve it! You were such a great inspiration and help!

Have a nice day!

Read On AO3

Mitsuki Bakugou, Masaru Bakugou & KiriBaku

Light Angst, Parenting, Anger Issues, Motherhood, Mother-Son Relationship, Fluff, Kiri is a Sunshine, Established Relationship, Official Introduction to the Parents

“I’m home!”

Masaru’s voice echoed through the rooms of the Bakugou’s household.

As he tiredly took off his shoes, no answer was screamed back at him. He frowned, then let out a little sigh.

Looking around as he straightened, he realized that all the lights were off; he couldn’t hear anything from the kitchen nor any other room.

Oh.

So, that was it?

He silently padded down the corridor, up the stairs and then to the bedroom he shared with his wife. Finding the door closed, he decided to knock before entering. When nobody answered, he turned the knob and quietly stepped into the dark room.

His lips stretched in a bitter-sweet smile.

There she was, Mitsuki, curled in the middle of their bed, with photos scattered around her as the light of the dying sun dyed her in red. He could only see her back but knew by heart all the telltale signs of when his wife was upset.

“I’m home…” he repeated in a murmur.

A flinch.

“…welcome back.”

“Can I sit?”

A shrug.

Satisfied with the reaction, he seated on the corner of the bed. Close enough to reach out to her in case of need, but not to suffocate her.

Mitsuki was staring at a crumpled photo in her hands, chin resting on the knees.

It brought Masaru back in times, to when they were younger. When Mitsuki was fighting with herself day by day, when she would suddenly get silent and mad and flee away from him for no apparent reason. When Masaru would wait for hours under her window to know if she was alright, when he would let her cry into his arms. When life was less complicated, and they were the only ones they had to take care of.

Masaru leaned to look at which one she was looking, even though he could sort of tell by all the wrinkles. A photo she had the habit to pick when she was angry at herself.

A young Katsuki flashed a blinding smile to the camera, holding triumphantly some flowers in his hands. There were two or three bruises on his skin.

They had gone hiking for the first time ever; well, more a walk than anything. Katsuki had been so excited about the smallest things, running wild into the woods. The scars were a badge of honor for having tripped down a slide as he tried to pick some flowers for Mitsuki. His mother hadn’t had the heart to scold him, too moved by the innocent gift.

“…wasn’t he happy?” she whispered, voice scratchy.

He could see how puffy her eyes were but made no comment.

“Yes, it’s one of my favorite photos.”

She nodded in agreement.

“It was one of the last times I genuinely complimented him wasn’t it?”

Masaru didn’t reply.

They both knew the answer.

Mitsuki was an overly proud mom.

Who could blame her?

She had a caring, honest husband she loved to death and a strong, shiny son who deserved the world. She still couldn’t believe she had been blessed with them, especially thinking of all the flaws and issues she had always harbored inside.

She had managed to do something good in the end, hadn’t she?

That’s why she had always showered Katsuki with compliments, love, and affection. Well, partially it was also to compensate for when she would lose control and let her anger burn, but she was working on it; she had already improved in comparison as to how she was during high school. But, most of all, it was because she genuinely believed Katsuki was the best child ever.

Strong, beautiful, capable, smart, confident… And with a strong quirk to match! She couldn’t count how many people had complimented her, saying her Katsuki was born to be a hero.

How could have a mother not let it go to her head? She had always been bad at control herself, at doing things with measure.

She had let it blind her.

Stupid of her, right?

Then small things had started to pile up… a harsh comment, a sentence that had made her nearly snapped, bruises on his skin, stubborn replies, an annoyed click of the tongue... Small things that should have told her what was happening, that should have made her understand. But… she didn’t want to see. Katsuki was probably the best thing it had ever happened to her and she didn’t want to accept she may have… ruined it. She wasn’t ready. She was scared. She wanted to believe they were just tantrums, that they would pass soon.

Until the truth smacked her in the face and she was left with no choice.

She truly realized how things had escalated only during a quiet afternoon after she had picked up Katsuki and Midoriya from the kindergarten. Usually, all the boys would go play at the park in front of the house, but that day… ah, that day Mitsuki had asked Midoriya and Katsuki to play in the garden. Even though Katsuki had seemed annoyed by something and the other boy more nervous than usual, she had brushed it off. The house was empty, she had the laundry to do but didn’t want to feel lonely, and, most of all, she was curious about what they would play. It had passed some time since she had seen them enjoying themselves, hadn’t it? They were already growing.

At first, the afternoon had passed smoothly.

Mitsuki had finished her laundry and then moved to vacuum the bedrooms on the second floor. The kids were playing some adventures in the garden when she heard a pained gasp.

Dropping everything, she rushed down the stairs with the heart in her throat.

“Katsuki! Midoriya!” She called, stumbling out in the garden.

“What?” Bakugou replied, his tone clearly annoyed.

Mitsuki froze.

Her son was standing on the grass with a stick into his hands, while Midoriya had fallen to the ground. He was wearing some strange rags and had written on his forehead “Bad”; his knees were scratched, and tears streamed down his cheeks as he trembled like a leaf.

“W-what’s going on?” Mitsuki asked.

Bakugou rolled his eyes.

“We are playing at the hero and the monster. Deku is being weak.”

“Deku?” Her eyes grew wide, but the boy didn’t flinch.

“Yeah, I chose it. We were playing, I was defeating him when he fell and said he didn’t want to play anymore.”

Mitsuki looked at the small boy, who tried hurriedly to hide the tears.

“Are you alright, Midoriya?”

The boy nodded and stifled a smile.

“I-I am!”

“It doesn’t seem so.”

The boy threw a scared glance at Katsuki, who clicked his tongue, and nodded again.

“I am! I’m fine!”

Mitsuki frowned, stepping closer.

“Why don’t you change the game? You could be both heroes and I can play the monster!” she suggested as she helped him stand. A strange uneasiness was creeping into her heart.

Midoriya seemed to light up, but Katsuki immediately protested.

“No.”

Mitsuki glared at him.

“Why not?”

“Because he’s weak.”

His mother blinked, shocked.

“What?”

“Deku is weak. He can’t be a hero, he doesn’t even have a quirk yet!” Bakugou was clenching his fists, explosions echoing against his palms. “Tsk, I didn’t even want to play with him but you just brought him home…”

“Sure he can! What are you saying about your friend! Obviously Midoriya can be a hero! And stop calling him Deku, it’s not nice!” she snapped angrily, her tone sharper than what she intended.

Bakugou took a step back, shocked, but immediately glared back even more fiercely.

“He’s not my friend! And he can’t! You said it! Only strong kids can become heroes! He’s not!” he yelled, stomping a foot on the ground.

“He can be strong too!” Mitsuki should have remembered she was talking to a kid, but something in Bakugou’s attitude was making her brain shortcut. Was the look in his eyes? Or the conviction in his tone?

“He’s not! Everybody knows he’s weak! I am strong! I will be the hero!” She didn’t see the fear behind her son’s eyes, “I am the best! You said it, dad said it, the teachers said it!”

“This doesn’t mean that Midoriya is-”

“HE’S NOT! I’M THE ONLY HERO!” Bakugou roared, explosions going wild as he turned and pushed Midoriya to the ground once again, “HE’S NOTHING!”

Mitsuki’s heart stopped.

Her hand moved before she could think.

The slap echoed in the garden.

Bakugou stared at her with the mouth open.

Soon, his eyes filled with tears.

“W-why?” he whined, confused, angry and scared at the same time.

Mitsuki glanced at her own hand, fear strangling her from the inside.

She had never, never hit her son before. Never.

Midoriya started crying too.

She felt the panic rising, lost as what to do.

“K-Katsuki! Go to your bedroom! Now!” she ordered, trying to hide her insecurities behind a mask of anger.

“But I didn’t-”

“Now!”

The boy clenched his jaw.

“I hate you! Liar!” he seethed before running away.

Mitsuki watched him disappear inside the house, heart heavy and mind blank.

“Bakugou-san?” Midoriya was tugging at her sleeve, desperate.

She blinked at him and bent to pick him up, moving more on instinct than anything. She felt like an empty doll.

All she could think was that she had messed up.

She had messed up.

Mitsuki replayed what had just happened over and over again, in a state of horror, as she carried Midoriya home.

All those praises, the compliments, her stupid pride… she had messed up.

And only as she bowed deeply to Iinko, apologizing with all her heart for the behavior of her son, she realized what she had done to Katsuki.

It was her fault.

She had messed up. Once again.

Now she had to fix it.

From that day, Mitsuki gradually stopped complimenting Bakugou. She now saw how much they had inflated his pride and blinded his sight, and wanted to do something to fix, but didn’t know what. She hid her fear and regrets behind her short temper; she started making harsh remarks as soon as he misbehaved, faking not to see how good he was at everything he did and how much he put his efforts into it, finding flaws to mine his growing ego. No matter how much it hurt, how quickly the arguments between them increased, how similar their explosive personalities became and how bitter the resentment in Katsuki’s eyes grew, she shut her heart off.

She genuinely thought that would have been the right solution, believing the rare and awkward moments of shared affection would be enough to keep their relationship working.

Mitsuki only wanted him to realize his limits and flaws, to humbly accept that others could be great too.

She just wanted to be a great mother to a great son.

But when she realized that her attempts had only had the opposite effect, it was again too late. She had forgotten how to love Katsuki without hiding, how to show her love without shouting and being brusque, and Katsuki had grown distant and resentful, had seen through the mask all her flaws and pathetic attempts at parenting.

“What happened today?” Masaru asked gently, pulling her back to the present.

She didn’t say a word but took her phone and threw it into his lap. As soon as the screen lightened up, he realized it was already open on a message. By Katsuki.

“Tomorrow I’ll come for lunch with my boyfriend. I don’t want to, but he’s being a pain in the ass because he wants to meet you.

Don’t mess up, old hag.”

A gasp of surprise left his mouth.

Katsuki had a boyfriend?

He took the time to let it sink, then gave her back the phone.

“I doubt this is due to the fact it’s a boy and not a girl.”

“Who fucking cares!” she snapped, “It’s already a miracle he found someone with the horrible personality he-” She bit her own tongue, grimacing.

Ah, she was doing it again.

Her husband slowly rubbed circles on her back.

“Then?”

“The last sentence. It’s a fucking warning.”

“He must really care about him…” Masaru couldn’t help but smile fondly. The only thought that Katsuki had found someone special warmed him up.

“Obviously!” she scoffed, “As he could do something half-assed!”

Masaru chuckled, “You’re right.”

But that didn’t explain why Mitsuki was torturing herself again.

However, he let her be with her thoughts, just pulling her slowly closer.

After what seemed an infinite amount of time, she gently pushed him back.

“I have to prepare dinner…” She uncurled, stretching, and climbed out of the bed.

Her husband frowned a little, but his hand stopped in midair.

Should have he grabbed her? Insisted?

Ah, he had never been good at insisting, not even when it mattered the most. Not even when he should have. That’s why he had always ended up looking at the two people he loved the most in his life tearing each other apart, without being able to help. Tired and out of the loop after a day at work, too mellow and soft to contrast their anger or stop their aggressive arguments. Oh, he was good at comforting them afterward, when they were locked in their rooms berating themselves and the other at once, but it was too late. That was damage control, not a useful help.

But his wife knew him.

“It’s a threat, Masaru,” she said, stilling on the door without turning, “A warning for me. Don’t fuck up this time or it’s the end. And we all know how good I am at messing up.”

When they had told her Katsuki had been kidnapped, her world had shattered.

Katsuki? Her son? Kidnapped?

Before she could make up, before they could fix their relationship, he had been taken away. And what if that was the end?

She could remember rushing to the tv and stilling in shock as the new reported the incident, the world around becoming a buzzing blur. She had come back from the abyss of regrets and anger only as Eraserhead defended Katsuki, the only one who had seen the truth people always ignored about him, and she had never felt more grateful Katsuki had found teachers like him. The tears had streamed down her face without stopping until she had seen him being saved by his friends.

But what had she done when Katsuki had finally returned home?

Ah, just a hug. A hug was all that she had managed before her anger and issues had exploded.

She had screamed at him.

Because she had felt like dying while he was in danger. Because she was angry at Katsuki for letting them kidnap him and at herself for being angry for such a stupid reason. Because she felt so relieved, broken and frail she didn’t know how to hide it.

Because, simply, Mitsuki didn’t how to deal with the turmoil in her heart and always messed up everything, letting anger take the wheel as she tried to push back the rest.

They had ended up locked into their rooms once again, in a never-ending déjà vu, until Masaru had put her pieces back together and helped her going to Katsuki’s room without chickening back. It had taken all her courage and strength to knock and enter; she didn’t even have had the heart to switch on the light.

Since Katsuki hadn’t screamed to go away, she crawled into his bed and hugged him to the chest; feeling his arms circling her was such a relief. She let silent tears fell onto his blond hair, holding onto him as he buried the face into her chest. Outside the room, they both knew Masaru was sitting on the floor, waiting.

“…I’m- glad…” she managed to whisper.

Katsuki raised his head to meet her gaze.

“…me too…” he replied all too softly.

But she saw the disappointment in his eyes, the question screaming.

Why? Why couldn’t they be better than this? Why they always had to hurt each other? Why?

The next day, Mitsuki had let his son into the hands of the U.A teachers.

She had felt so disgusted by herself: for a second, she had felt glad they were taking him. She had been glad he would go and live at the dorm because she didn’t know how to answer that “Why?”; because she knew that those teachers were helping him grow and mature far better than she had ever done. Because every time she looked at him she remembered what a shitty mother she was, and it hurt.

And the worst was that Katsuki knew, she was sure he knew, and what could he ever feel for her, a mother messed up and scared to raise her own son, more than disappointment?

As the fated hour approached, Mitsuki grew nervous and nervous.

She was helping her husband in the kitchen with the lunch, but her hands trembled so badly she was murdering that poor potato.

“Why don’t you set the table?” Masaru gently took the knife away from her hands.

She sighed.

“I already did. Three times.”

“Three?”

“The second because I was agitated. The third because I snapped and hit a glass by accident. It shattered,” she grumbled begrudgingly.

“Are you okay?” Masaru took a look at her hand.

She rolled her eyes.

“Except for the fact that I’m a 38 years old grown ass woman but I’m panicking like a middle schooler because I have the short temper of a ticking bomb and I’m on the verge of ruining my son’s happiness once again? Fucking peachy.”

Masaru couldn’t help but burst into an amused laughter.

“You’ll be fine, Mitsuki. Katsuki wouldn’t have accepted to bring him home if he really thought you could mess up, would have he?”

She scoffed, crossing her arms.

Mitsuki knew as well as she knew that she was the adult there and had to pull herself together instead of going crazy. But she just… cared so much. It was scary. She was tired of making mistakes.

Sixteen years and she still didn’t know how to be a good mother.

Pathetic.

Masaru flicked her forehead, before returning to the curry.

“Stop it.”

“What?”

“Overthinking. And berating yourself.”

“I wasn’t!”

“You were!”

“I wasn’t!”

A ring cut their banter.

The potato fell from Mitsuki’s hands.

“You go, I’ll finish here.” Masaru gave her a small push, and she slowly made her way to the door.

She turned the knob holding her breath.

Red eyes.

Spiky blond hair, sharp jaws, always present pout and smell of nitroglycerin.

“And here I thought I would die before seeing you again,” she couldn’t help but smirk. Ah, Katsuki was dressed well today.

“Shut up, old hag!” he growled back, averting his eyes.

“Dude!” the gasp reminded them they weren’t alone.

Mitsuki’s eyes immediately ran to the boy who was waiting a step behind Katsuki and narrowed as she scrutinized him.

There was something familiar in him… Red spiky hair, scarlet eyes, well-built physique, nervous smile and…the joined hands.

“Ah!” she exclaimed, startling him, “You’re the boy who saved my dumb son!”

He seemed to be surprised about being recognized, but quickly brushed it off as a “Bakugou’s smart thing.”

“Yes, ma’am! Well, not exactly, I just helped out saving him- I just- well-”

“Yes, he fucking saved me! Stop mumbling idiot!”

Both the boy and Mitsuki almost gaped at Bakugou’s admission of having been saved, but if the first just smiled and squeezed his hand, the woman had to restrain herself from cursing.

“A-anyway… I’m Kirishima Eijirou, Ka-Bakugou’s best friend. I’m glad to finally meet you!” The boy bowed respectfully, with an adorable smile.

Oh, Katsuki had found a nice boy?

“Boyfriend!” the blond growled, “He’s my stupid boyfriend!” he repeated making Kirishima blush, but his glare was trained on her. As to dare her to say anything.

Mitsuki carefully smiled to Kirishima. He had never seen her son warier and more protective at the same time, she didn’t want to let him misunderstand not even for a second. Not this time.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kirishima-kun. I don’t know how this brute won you over, but I’m glad you’re here. Come, Masaru had just finished preparing lunch. Do you like curry?”

She led the way as Kirishima chirped how he loved it, but she glanced at the way Bakugou seemed to relax a little and sighed in relief.

They entered in the kitchen as Masaru was washing his hands. He quickly dried them with the apron and smiled gently to Kirishima, who looked almost surprised at the man’s appearance; Mitsuki had to hide a smirk: she loved how people thought Bakugou had taken his horrible personality from his father and then remained shocked to discover it was quite the opposite.

“I’m Masaru, Bakugou’s father. It’s nice to meet you, Kirishima-kun.”

“The pleasure is mine!”

The boy bowed once again, but now his smile was even more relaxed. Poor thing, he must have been so anxious. Mitsuki could remember how nerve-wracking she’d felt when meeting Masaru’s family, and she was nowhere near as nice as Kirishima.

“Let’s seat! It’s still warm!”

“Thank you!”

Bakugou quickly sat by Kirishima’ side and his parents in front of them; Mitsuki caught sight of his hand giving a last squeeze before letting Kirishima go.

The lunch went on smoothly.

The usual banter between Bakugou and Mitsuki never escalated, Kirishima was more than happy to talk for everyone and keep the mood light, and Masaru was ready to fill the awkward silences or cut the occasional tensions.

“…and so, as soon as I suggested Momo would be better than him at tutoring me, Ka-Bakugou immediately offered. Well, more threatened me than anything.” Kirishima finished his story, making the couple laugh wholeheartedly as Bakugou muttered curses against the palm of the hand.

“You fucking asked for it, Shitty-hair!” Bakugou bit back, with a smirk.

Even though she could say there was not an ounce of malice in his tone, her heart almost stopped at the nickname. Memory from the past flashed in front of her eyes. Her shoulders tensed.

“Brat!” she almost growled, slamming the hand down, “What are you calling your boyfriend? Haven’t you learned how to respect other people? It’s already a miracle he’s bearing you and you call him like-”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Katsuki yelled back, explosions crackling from his palms; the red eyes were already burning with flames, “Shut your mouth, old hag! You don’t fucking know anything about me and Ei-”

“Katsuki!” Kirishima interrupted them even quicker than Masaru. He elbowed gently his boyfriend’ side, “She’s still your mother. Not cool.”

Bakugou snapped his head towards him, ready to chew him up too, but as soon as he met Kirishima’s stern and clear eyes he stilled. Under the couple’s flabbergasted stare, his rage slowly…dimmed. His features softened, the coldness melted.

“She-”

“Still not cool,” Kirishima rebutted with a grin, stretching a hand to catch Bakugou’s, “And I’m fine. Don’t worry!”

They held the gaze for few more heartbeats before Bakugou sagged into the chair.

“Whatever…” he grunted in the end, turning his head to the wall.

Whatever.

To anyone else that could have seemed nothing, if not annoying, but Mitsuki knew what it means: Katsuki was surrendering, he was willingly letting an argument go in favor of someone’s else. And he wasn’t even pissed about it, just as if Kirishima had been right about he said… Mitsuki had always counted every “whatever” said in that sighing tone as a personal victory.

She couldn’t believe someone else knew that too, but there he was that red-head boy, barely hiding a soft smile as he gazed at the blond.

Kirishima turned to Mitsuki.

“Ah, please don’t worry Bakugou-san. I can tell when Bakugou’s words have no bite, nor real mean intentions. It’s just his way of addressing people, me and the whole class are used to it. We don’t care, nor we are hurt. He has also improved a lot since our first year.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes but said nothing.

“Besides,” Kirishima’s tone was now teasing, and he winked at the woman, “He’s using those names because he’s too embarrassed to call me anything else. When we are alone he calls me Sun-”

“EIJIROU!” Bakugou slapped a hand over Kirishima’s mouth, horrified, “Don’t you dare, asshole!”

The other laughed amused, not even remotely scared of having an explosive hand pressed to the face.

“Sorry, sorry…” But he didn’t sound sorry at all.

Mitsuki started giggling without realizing, and it almost startled the boys.

Kirishima seemed content to hear her chuckle, while Bakugou simply stared at her with an unreadable expression.

“Kirishima-kun, you’re an incredible boy. I’m really happy to have you here.” Her heart hadn’t felt so light in days. Masaru squeezed her hand as she smiled earnestly at Kirishima.

He gaped.

“…you have the same smile,” he blurted, turning to Bakugou.

He frowned, annoyed.

“We don’t.”

“You do. But it’s okay, I find yours cuter.”

“Do you want to die, Shitty-hair?”

The rest of the lunch ended peacefully.

When Mitsuki stood to clear the table, Kirishima hurried up and stopped her.

“P-please let me do it! I already intruded you and with such a short notice!”

She flicked his forehead.

“It’s fine, my husband cooked, not me. I can-”

“I insist!” Kirishima repeated, biting his bottom lip. He seemed to be debating if it would have been ruder to let it go or insist more.

Katsuki decided for everyone.

“Let him do, old hag. He won’t stop feeling bad for it, otherwise.”

“Hey!”

“And you?” Mitsuki couldn’t help but ask.

Bakugou rolled his eyes, “I’ll avoid he destroys our kitchen,” he mumbled, before nudging the other boy, “Come on, I don’t want to spend the afternoon washing the dishes.”

“I’m not that bad!”

“Please don’t get me started, Hair-for-Brain!”

Without anything to do, Mitsuki walked to the living room almost in a daze. Masaru was seated on the couch, reading one of his favorite books, and she plopped down next to him.

He glanced at her, amused.

“What?”

“He…” Mitsuki said quietly, “…is different.”

Instead of prodding, Masaru realized his wife was lost in thinking and let her be with her mind until she was ready to elaborate. However, after ten minutes, she stood up again and silently walked to the door kitchen.

She had left it ajar and couldn’t stop herself from peeking it.

Mitsuki felt so… curious.

She didn’t exactly know that Katsuki. A protective, wary Katsuki who also wore a soft expression. A Katsuki whose lips were always pulled in a faint, almost invisible grin when nobody looked. A Katsuki who wasn’t watching only at himself anymore.

She wanted to see him more. It was fascinating. It filled her heart with… joy? And pride?

Inside, Kirishima and Bakugou were standing near the sink.

The red-head was vigorously washing the dishes that then passed to the blond, who dried and put them away; they seemed to be talking animatedly, or at least Kirishima was, Bakugou mostly nodded and listened, making small comments from time to time. But Mitsuki could tell he was attentively listening.

At some point, Kirishima must have said something funny or stupid, because Bakugou scoffed and tried to hide his laughter behind the hand, but it didn’t work well. His usual stern or scowling expression was nowhere to be seen as he clutched his stomach and let his voice booming freely, cheeks slightly red and eyes tingling with amusement.

Whatever he may have said, Kirishima seemed deeply embarrassed and his face was completely red. He tried to make Bakugou stop by smacking weakly his shoulder, but the other boy was laughing too much, so he decided to sport a cute pout.

When the blonde realized, a lazy, teasing grin replaced the laughter as he leaned against the counter. Kirishima made an attempt at averting his eyes, but it was clear how pulled by his boyfriend he felt. Bakugou grabbed his t-shirt and made him stumble closer, before placing his hand behind Kirishima’s neck and bringing him down for a heated kiss.

Ah, too much.

Mitsuki retread few steps, guilty as if she had just pried into a secret, private moment. Her back collided with something and she jumped, caught by surprise.

“They make a good couple,” Masaru murmured, gently wrapping an arm around her waist. She relaxed against his chest.

“Uhm,” she agreed with a small nod, “He’s changed.”

“For better?”

“For better. Don’t you see it?” she scrunched her nose, making him chuckle.

“I do see it, I just wanted to hear you say it.”

Mitsuki glance at him, confused.

“Do you know why he has changed?”

“…because he has met great kids and teachers who have been able to help him mature.”

“Exactly, so it has been a good idea, hasn’t it? Sending him to the dorms, no matter how much it hurt and made you feel like you were running away from your problems. You took the right choice. Nothing to regret or torture yourself with anymore.”

Oh.

Mitsuki blinked.

Oh.

“I… took the right choice.”

“Yes, I’m glad you did.”

“I-I’m glad too.”

Something in her heart was melting, she felt as if a weight was falling from her shoulders.

She had taken the right choice for her child, she had done something good. Even though she wasn’t the main reason for his changes, even if she hadn’t done anything more than saying “yes”, even if all she had managed had been recognizing she couldn’t do nothing for him and trust someone else, it was something. A small step.

“You can be proud of it,” Masaru said, reading her thoughts.

“Oh, shut it!” She wiped away the small tears who had escaped her control.

He chuckled and left a kiss on her forehead.

“We can be proud of him.”

“…’ve always been,” she muffled begrudgingly, much to his amusement.

“Yeah, but you had never let yourself say it aloud. Don’t you feel better?”

She just shrugged and turned to hug him as she hadn’t done in a long time. Those stupid teenagers in love were making feel her young and in love once again, how annoying.

Her romantic moment was interrupted by Katsuki’s outraged scream.

“ARE YOU A FUCKING IDIOT?!”

Instinctively, Mitsuki slammed the door open. Mom’s instinct.

“What happened?”

Bakugou didn’t even notice her, focused on examining the hand of his boyfriend between his, while the red-head seemed so embarrassed he could die.

“You can fucking harden! How the hell did you manage to cut yourself?”

“You were distracting me!”

“Than fucking put the knife down!”

“Katsuki!” Kirishima whined, but Bakugou smacked lightly his head, “I’m fine!”

“You’re bleeding!” he growled, before turning to Mitsuki, “Old hag, help him wash the cut while I go to search for the band-aids! Dad, are they still in the same place?”

The blond stomped out of the kitchen like a hurricane.

“Ah, no…” Masaru stuttered, “We moved them…” he added, tailing his son.

Mitsuki, still perplexed, reached Kirishima and stretched a hand.

“Can I?”

The boy groaned but let her look.

Mitsuki snorted, “It’s such a small cut.”

“I know!” Kirishima sighed, a palm over his eyes, “But he says I’m irresponsible because of my quirk and always gets stressed when I’m hurt. I’m sorry for the fuss.” He seemed genuinely troubled.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” she waved it off. Mitsuki still couldn’t believe it was her son had just got so worried for someone else.

“I should have paid attention, but we were joking around…” he explained with a faint blush. And even though he seemed embarrassed, his eyes shined with fondness at the thought.

“…you really love him.”

“What?”

Ah. The words had slipped from Mitsuki’s mouth.

“I… said you really love him.”

Now, Kirishima’s face was the same color as his hair. But his gaze didn’t waver.

“Y-yes, ma’am. I-I really love Katsuki.”

“Why?” That was what worried Mitsuki, the real question.

Kirishima seemed taken aback and frowned.

“Why?”

“My son is… difficult. He has issues. And treats most people like dirt,” she explained, crossing her arms as to defend herself from those red eyes that seemed to bare her.

Mitsuki didn’t miss the flash of anger in his eyes, nor the way his jaw clenched, so similar to how protective Katsuki had seemed during the introductions, but he soon softened again.

“Katsuki is… complex, I know that. He’s foul-mouthed, has one of the biggest egos ever and doesn’t know how to interact with people other than competing,” he agreed with a bitter-sweet smile, “But there’s much more to him, isn’t it? The strength and passion that drive him, his pride as a man, all his vulnerable fear and insecurities that he tries to face alone, his will to become a hero…ah!” he chuckled, “That’s what made me fall in love. I’ve never met anyone who wanted to become a hero more than him, no matter how flawed he knows he is, no matter how hard it feels or what the world says. He’s willing to face all his demons if it means he can improve, and he’s ready to change. Katsuki is burning with passion, he just needs to find his way to convey it… properly. This hit me so hard. Only by being next to him I feel braver and stronger as if nothing could defeat us. Being worthy of his respect and love for me is… amazing. Even if I know he’s not perfect and even if I’ve seen all his ugly sides… I just love him. He makes me a better person.”

Mitsuki didn’t have words to reply, she stared silently at Kirishima, who grew more and more fidgety as the seconds dragged by.

“…glad.”

“What?” he stuttered, panicking.

“I’m glad you are the one he loves. And I’m glad you love him back. You see the best in him… thank you.” Mitsuki’s voice was so quiet as she spoke, looking at the ground.

Kirishima felt the urge to hug her but had already learned how to deal with a Bakugou and stopped himself.

“You don’t have to worry, ma’am. A lot people are beginning to see it too. Bakugou is not alone anymore, you know? We’ve made a lot of friends! I’ll bring them to you if you want to know them! But don’t worry, he’ll be fine!” Kirishima reassured her with a toothy-smiled

She had to force herself not to cry.

What a special boy her son had found. He had completely seen right through her, hadn’t he? Better than what she had ever admitted to herself.

“I’d love to, Kirishima-kun.”

Bakugou chose that moment to barge back in the kitchen, armed with a first-aid kit, Masaru behind him.

“I found it! Uh? What’s this?” he asked suspiciously as he moved the gaze between the two of them.

Mitsuki and Kirishima exchanged a glance, before chuckling.

“Gossiping,” the woman replied with a teasing smirk.

Bakugou narrowed his eyes.

“She had promised to show me your childhood photos!” Kirishima added with a bright smile.

“What? No fucking way!” Bakugou protested marching to him with the disinfectant already in hand.

“Please, Katsuki!” Kirishima begged with his best puppy-eyes.

“I’ll go searching for the albums!” Mitsuki left the kitchen with a laughter.

“I think I have some videos…” Masaru mumbled quietly.

“Dad don’t you dare!”

When the time to go came, Kirishima had nearly been adopted by Masaru and Mitsuki. Not that Bakugou would have ever doubted his boyfriend’ scary ability to befriend even inanimate objects, but it was still a relief.

And… his mother seemed happy. Genuinely happy. He hadn’t seen her like that in a long time, right?

“Thank you again for the hospitality!” Kirishima bowed for the umpteenth time before Mitsuki pulled him into a crushing hug.

“I’m the one who’s happy, Kirishima-kun! You’re really a wonderful boy, feel free to hang here whenever you want.”

“Alright, alright!” Bakugou was losing his patience and roughly dragged his boyfriend away from his mother’s arms, “You have said it already ten times! We’re going to UA, not the fucking north pole! Stop being so dramatic!”

Kirishima laughed, letting the blond manhandle him.

“Goodbye again! I look forward to the next lunch together!” He yelled cheerfully as the other pushed him out of the door.

“Fucking move, Shitty-Hair!”

Once he had finally sent him away, Bakugou turned to his parents.

“I’ll be going…” he said awkwardly.

“Stay safe, and call more often,” Masaru patted his head with a sigh. He really would have liked to stay with them a little longer.

Bakugou shrugged but didn’t protest.

He moved as to open the door and leave but stilled.

He turned to his mother instead.

“Thank you,” he murmured so quietly Mitsuki almost feared to have imagined it, “Eijirou really cared about this, but I too am happy you met him. I’m glad you like him.”

Katsuki was meeting her eyes, and there was no hidden disappointment. No anger. No fear.

He was there honestly revealing his thoughts to her.

Almost vulnerable.

For a heartbeat, it almost sent her mind in a frenzy. She wasn’t ready, she wasn’t used to it.

Her brain was already pushing out an automatic, snarky reply as always when she felt vulnerable or lost, but she bit her tongue.

Katsuki had improved. He had done his best to grow.

Mitsuki had to be worthy of all his efforts.

“You really don’t deserve someone as good as him, try not to scare him off.”

“Of course we like him. He’s the best boy you could have ever met,” Mitsuki replied with the same quiet honesty.

Katsuki showed a small smile, biting the inside of his cheek.

“I know,” he scoffed, “That’s why I chose him.”

“Maybe I could adopt him instead of you, brat.”

“I would have never expected less. Look at you, Katsuki, all proud of your boyfriend! I can’t wait to call him my son-in-law,” she teased, making him blush.

“MOM!” he burst.

She laughed hard, happy and so relieved at hearing him calling her mom.

“I hope to see you soon! Kick some ass and show the world your resolve, brat!” She threw an arm around his shoulders and pulled him into a hug, ruffling his head.

“That’s what I always do, old hag! And we’ll come back, stop nagging and let go!” But he made no real attempt at shoving her away, letting her enjoy the moment.

When she finally stepped back, he simply nodded and walked out of the door. Kirishima was waiting on the walkway and started waving enthusiastically as soon as he saw them.

“Goodbye!” he yelled to them as the couple waved back.

Bakugou muttered something under his breath and grabbed him by the hand, quickly pulling him away. Soon, Masaru and Mitsuki remained alone, looking at the sunset.

“See? You didn’t mess up.”

She turned to him with burning eyes.

“I didn’t mess up!” Mitsuki cheered, and, seeing her shining, proud smile, Masaru remembered why he had fallen in love with her in the first place.

“You two are really similar,” Kirishima mused as he and Bakugou walked toward the dorms, hand in hand.

The blond scoffed yet didn’t deny it.

“Horrible personality. Messed up.”

Kirishima rolled his eyes. Those two were really similar.

“Complex. Fierce. Scared to love and yet so full of passion. You have your issues, but both of you are fighting, right? I really admire that. You make me want to give my best too!”

Bakugou halted and turned to stare at him, eyes wide open.

“Are you fucking serious?”

“Sure!”

“…How can you say things like this without getting embarrassed?” he growled, blush creeping to his cheeks.

Kirishima chuckled sheepishly, scratching his nape.

“I just say what I see…”

Bakugou gazed his face, almost tempted to search for a lie even though he knew there wasn’t one, before sighing.

“’Guess you really see it.”

“One day you’ll see yourself like that too, I’m here for this.”

“Fucking annoying.”

“But you love me!”

Bakugou chuckled, but leaned closer, “Yeah, I fucking love you.”

And shut his boyfriend with a kiss before he could blurt more embarrassing truths

[darkmindsthinktwistedthoughts]

A Different Time pt5

Warning: Scientific nerdy Ninja

Masterlist

---

Chapter 5 - Taking the Field

As we ate in a local tea house I found I couldn’t shake Yukimura’s parting words from my mind. Each time I tried, I noticed something about her that brought them right back up again like an oil slick on water.

“…So, what do you think?” [Name]’s voice broke my reverie.

“Mmhmm?” Did I miss something? Of course, you missed something Sasuke you weren’t even listening.

“You weren’t listening, were you? You might want to watch that someone might try taking advantage of you.” As she smiled at me I had the notion that I have never felt so easy to read in my life.

“I’m sorry I was just thinking about how long it would take for help to arrive.” I was lying. Whilst that had of course been a minor part in my mind the rest seemed to be filled with thoughts of [Name].

“I was saying I might need to do a bit of training before the storming of the keep.” She repeated her words as she ate the last of her rice.

“Very Tolkienesque.” I replied as I took a drink. The tea was hotter than I thought but I forced it down all the same.

“Hehe thank you. So how about you?” She asked picking up her own cup.

“Well I am nowhere near your level in the ninja arts. I do feel I would need to train a lot before I could even think about training with someone close to your ability.” I wasn’t lying. I had only really been in this era for a little short of four years. I had trained every day until I was told I was proficient enough to not get myself killed and then sent out for on the job experience. I pushed hard to gain more knowledge and skill but compared to a seasoned professional there was no way I was close to them. Although I had pride in my speed… but I suspect that is something to do with being a nerd and having to run fast as a matter of survival.

“You seriously just called it “ninja arts”. What kind of nerd are you?” [Name] smiled from behind her cup looking at me with sparkling eyes. Tiny lines crinkling the corners of them from her smile.

“The not dead kind.” I deadpanned.

“HAHA well I’ll concede and give you that one. Personally, I always found learning easier with a hands-on approach to education. If you like to join me I won’t judge you, you’re not a bad as you think you are.”

Error: Sasuke operating system failure. She not only complimented me but the possible connotations of the ‘hands on approach to education’ alongside the thoughts I was already having after Yukimura’s parting was doing nothing to alleviate my rapidly increasing body temperature or accelerated heart rate. I wonder if I ate a bad bit of fish. Although I would have to admit that now my overactive imagination and basic laws of attraction have a much higher likely hood of being the culprit in this case.

---

After paying the bill we left the teahouse and returned to her camp in the trees. I looked around out of habit and realised that if you had not been aware of its existence you might not have been able to find the camp site in the first place. Nothing looked anything other than natural, [Name] had even covered her firepit with vegetation from the surrounding area.

The sun had dipped lower in the sky by the time I noticed it. We had gone through our drills for timing, balance and attack. Our make shift targets were full of holes from our Kunai and Shuriken. It was when I was timing my climbing and practicing swinging my weight from branch to branch that it happened.

[Name] had excused herself to go fetch some fresh water and when she returned I noticed she was soaking wet. Her skin glistened and her hair was a darker shade dripping at its ends. Her kimono was clinging to her figure swaying as she walked in to the clearing. I could feel my hands start to get clammy and before I knew it I had slipped from my grip and fallen backwards, I shifted my feet and somehow managed to gain a purchase strong enough to keep me from falling further, this did however leave me hanging upside down in a less than dignified position. Oh, please God no… please say she didn’t see that. While I was calculating my odds at having successfully managing to avoid the fall I nearly jumped after I adjusted my glasses and realised I was nearly nose to nose with [Name].

“Well hello there Sasuke bat.” She laughed and as her face lit up I felt something inside me pulling me forward. It was illogical and unscientific. It was a feeling that seemed to come from no where and emulated all those anime, manga, comics and films I had seen. Her eyes were sparkling and when she stopped laughing all that was left was a rich warm smile on her face. Leaning forward with one hand on her cheek, I felt the softness of her lips on mine. The gentle heat of her flowing into my body. I’m kissing her, aren’t I? Pulling back, I steadied my breathing.

“That was no where near as easy or romantic as I had hoped.” My words made her smile even more.

“These things never are. I got water so we should probably have a drink and head back. Need help getting down?” [Name] inclined her upper body and tilted her head so she was looking at me upside down.

“It’s ok I can get down.” After I said this I pulled myself up bending in my centre and gripped the branch with my hands before dropping silently to the ground the correct way up.

---

We had a drink then she changed into some dry clothes before we returned to the Inn as it was getting dark. I managed to convince the owner that [Name] was only a friend and a respectable traveller avoiding for the most part a lot of unnecessary gossiping and the very possible out come of being thrown out of the establishment for ‘bringing it into disrepute’.

[Name] was given Yukimura’s room that was next to mine which allowed us to eat our evening meal together and talk without disturbing the rest of the household. It was strange and comforting to be alone like this but I was aware that my hands were still clammy and my heart was still racing. She had not mentioned anything further after my improvised movie hero moment and I was curious. Did she like it? Did I cross a line? How does she feel about me? I was more than aware I should have ascertained those answers before I had done anything like that at all.

“So… about earlier.” She spoke quietly. Suppressing an internal cringe that threatened to take over my body as the whirlpool of emotions ranging from guilt to panic surged forward. This feels like high school prom all over again. Asking a girl out took a lot more courage than the other guys in the class had made it look like it did. And that was only half the battle.

“I’m Sorry” “I liked it.” Our Voices over lapped and I looked at her in bewilderment as what she just said sunk in. Huh?

“There isn’t any need for you to apologise Sasuke. I didn’t hate it or you. You are a good guy.” [Name] averted her eyes a soft faltering smile gracing her face.

“I have a feeling that there is a Dear John coming.” I muttered half under my breath and in the quite room it seemed nearly as loud as it would have been had I yelled it from a rooftop. Her face contorted and looked like she was recoiling from an invisible hand slapping her across her face. The emotions I felt earlier pooled heavy in my chest making it difficult to breath but seeing her struggling in front of me I tried my best to ignore it and place a strained smile on my face. It was difficult I knew I couldn’t smile properly and I hoped I had made a passable one for her sake.

“It’s… It’s not really a ‘Dear John’.” She raised her face to meet my gaze and the soft brown pools reflected me completely. She wasn’t looking at anything but me in that moment I felt like the single most lucky guy in all the world but also completely aware that that world was about to hand me something that would change it forever. “I’m not someone that has ever be comfortable with a one night… thing. I have no idea what will happen in the near future and I…”

“It’s ok I don’t like them either.” I somehow managed to keep my voice level even with my body feeling like it was about to fall apart. She seemed to sense how I felt and gave a pained smile as she reached to take my hand. I nearly pulled it back but part of me wished to touch her and be close to her in any way it could. My own personal torture.

“I like you Sasuke please believe me when I say that. But I don’t think it would be fair to you to be with someone like me.” She appealed in earnest.

“Someone like you?” I repeated her statement as a question she nodded.

“While I cannot deny that I am certainly attracted to you I think ultimately you would be happier with another. I’m truly sorry.” [Name] bowed before me. Was she right? I have no desire to push myself on someone who is not interested. By her own admission she is and yet she has also declined the chance to take the field. The only gentlemanly thing to do would be to back off.

“It’s ok. I like you too. I guess I already managed to make that painfully obvious.” I shrugged trying to relieve some of the awkwardness of the situation. “I will not press the matter further.”

“Sasuke…” [Name]’s voice trembled. I stood from my position from where we had been eating moving to the sliding doors.

“Good Night [Name]” I bowed low enough for me not to have to see her face. I could hear from her breathing that she was on the verge of tears and like a coward fleeing I left her room entering my own at a brisk pace and once my doors firmly closed I slid down the wall and allowed myself the painful release of that trapped whirlpool inside.

---

Time passed in the solitude of moonlight, along with several bottles of sake. I had seen how the great men around me had self-medicated to deal with the phantoms they wrestled with at night. I was not arrogant enough to think myself a great man but I could not deny that I saw the emotional benefit in seeking out such a thing even if I knew it to be scientifically impossible that alcohol could erase how I felt.

It was around the end of the third bottle of strong sake that I felt myself become woozy and my mind became clearer for a brief moment. I didn’t feel the pain of a love unrequited. I didn’t feel the hurt of rejection. I found an agreeable clarity. It wasn’t that they didn’t like me, we might not become anything more than what we are right now but was that really such a terrible thing? I slipped into slumber at peace.

---

It was raining. It started off light and quickly became a torrential down pour. I was standing in front of the stone monument at Honno-ji. The air was electric and there she was. That girl I saw that night of the time slip looking up at the sky before turning her eyes to mine. I remembered. I remembered every detail of her face as if it was imprinted on my mind. Why would I see her right now at a time like this?

The Lighting cracked loud as I remembered and rent the stone in two in front of us.

“Be careful, Miss –” I held out my hand towards her, the look of confusion on her face. The world around me twisted as it turned into the warped distorted lines of the wormhole and everything was lost.

---

[bevioletskies]

what a wonderful world

characters: peter/gamora, guardians-centric

summary: the guardians’ last holiday season had been spent in jail on an alien planet (don’t ask), so peter’s determined to make their first real christmas on earth the best it can be. which, of course, means secret santa. and snowball fights. and baking cookies. and yeah, okay, maybe he’s getting a little ambitious.

word count: 25.4k

a/n: quick disclaimer - i had the plot outline of this fic done back in september and finished writing this in mid-november, so any resemblance to other people’s christmas fic, especially the 12 days of starmora, is purely coincidential. there are only so many holiday-related concepts haha

if you haven’t read the main fic, all you need to know is: the guardians attend a superhero school on earth, and therefore are approximately ten years younger than their movie counterparts. peter and gamora are in an established relationship after being in a fake one for a few months.

unlike the other one-shots, this is more a collection of vignettes than a linear story. everything is still in chronological order, but it’s implied that there’s a gap between each segment, and there’s no overarching plot other than, you know, christmas. happy holidays, everybody!

title comes from the song what a wonderful world by louis armstrong.

ao3 | tag | masterpost

“Oh, what a ni-i-ight,” Peter sang, hopping up onto the kitchen counter in the process. “Late December, back in '63…” A sudden slam on the table behind him caused him to nearly tumble right off the edge, his voice coming to an abrupt stop with a high-pitched squeal that he couldn’t say he was proud of. He turned slowly, wincing a little at the sound of his pant pocket studs dragging across the countertop.

“Peter, it’s too early for this nonsense,” Gamora said sternly. “I’d like at least another hour of sleep before we have to go check on the engine.”

“Dance with me, honey!” Beaming, he leaped back onto the floor and took her hands in his in one swoop, doing what she supposed was meant to be an intentionally awful impression of a jig, swinging her about the living room with reckless abandon. “But I was never gonna be the same, what a lady, what a night…”

“Did you drink an entire pot of coffee this morning? Or maybe some motor oil? What is happening? Even you aren’t usually this...hyper.” Gamora reluctantly allowed him to pull her closer, his hands coming to rest on the small of her back. She softened at the touch, knowing it was difficult to be mad at him when he was simply just eager to celebrate. “Peter…”

“Indulge me for like, one minute. Please.”

Oh, what a night...hypnotizing, mesmerizing me...she was everything I dreamed she'd be...sweet surrender, what a night…

“Fine, but we’re fixing that engine as soon as we’re done. I can’t imagine it didn’t ice over during last night’s snowfall,” she sighed as they slowed to a two-step, resting her head on his shoulders, standing slightly on her toes to reach. Her arms wound around his middle, clasping behind his back, inhaling the scent of the gingerbread cologne Mantis had gotten him as an early Christmas present. She usually wasn’t one for sweet scents, but secretly, she had gotten so comfortable nestled in Peter’s embrace that even the worst of perfumes couldn’t deter her for long.

Peter leaned down into her, nuzzling his face into her neck. “Of course, Gamora. Whatever you want.” He hummed quietly. “Love you.”

Her gaze flickered around the room briefly before landing back on the boy tucked against her. “I love you, too.”

Oh, what a night...why'd it take so long to see the light...seemed so wrong, but now it seems so right...what a lady, what a night…

Once the song was over, the two of them bundled up in their warmest winter coats and gingerly made their way off the Milano onto the loading bay, where they could get a proper look at the damage done during the night. It was mid-December, exams had finished, and most students had already left campus to go home for the holidays to be with their families. For the Guardians, “home” and “family” meant staying right here on this very ship. A ship that was currently dripping with wet, messy slush.

“Are you sure we don’t need Rocket?” Gamora asked. “He would be much better suited to this sort of thing.”

“You try draggin’ him out here in this weather,” Peter retorted. “If it was up to me, we’d all be hiding out in the dorms and leave the Milano alone for the next couple weeks, but he refuses to leave. Snow’s pretty heavy this year.”

“And once again, you and I are responsible for making food and supply runs,” she sighed, picking up a snow scraper and beginning to work on a large section of icy buildup over the engine’s hatch. “They complain about never getting to spend time with us, and yet they never come along when we actually go anywhere, arguably the best time to talk.”

“Well, we’ve got two full weeks ahead of us,” he said, flinging his arms out dramatically and nearly spraying her with snow in the process. “That's tons of time for just hanging out, even with our ship frozen over. At least it gives us an excuse to cancel all our jobs.”

Gamora’s gloved fingers slid over the hatch’s door handle, tightening their grip. She braced herself with one foot against the side of the ship and yanked - hard. The door opened with a violently high-pitched shriek, causing Peter to jump and clasp his hands over his ears. “And yet, we’re still working.”

“I think I’m deaf now,” Peter said dizzily, rubbing his palms over his temples. “You’ve deafened me.”

“This might be the worst way to spend our anniversary,” she continued, ignoring Peter’s antics as she began poking around inside with her wrench. “But at least I’m becoming more competent at this sort of thing, you know, working on the ship. At least, that’s what Rocket says, and the fact he even thought to say so tells me it’s actually true.”

“Hey, you remembered,” he grinned, moving forward to squeeze her hips affectionately. “I wasn’t gonna bring it up, but - ”

“ - but you thought I wouldn’t want to hear it,” she finished, turning to face him. “I know, I know. Peter, I promise I’m as invested in this relationship as you are. It’s just that I find anniversaries to be a superficial celebration of the passage of time, that’s all. I enjoy milestones, accomplishments, instead. They’re much more memorable than a singular date on the calendar to me. They mean more.”

“I get it. I totally get it. And you’ve always been a goal-setter.” He gently kissed her on the nose, sliding his arms around her once more. There was something immensely comforting about holding her close. “What’s been your favorite milestone so far?”

She chewed on her lip in consideration, thinking his question over, her hands coming to settle on his chest. “The first time we woke up together as a couple. You rolled right over, held me just like this, and said what I had been thinking - that it felt like we had already been together forever.”

“I was kinda worried that I made you uncomfortable as soon as I said it,” he admitted. “But you really know how to surprise me sometimes.”

“Believe me, I’ll let you know if I’m uncomfortable,” Gamora laughed. “I’m never one to shy away from speaking my mind.” She patted him on the backside very suddenly, causing Peter’s eyebrows to shoot up in surprise. “Come on, now. Let’s get to work. The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can go back inside, have breakfast, and watch one of those Christmas movies you keep telling me about.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Peter said cheerfully, stepping back to let her begin.

Two hours later, Yondu stumbled out of his bedroom, yawning, blearily rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, only to let out a startled cry at the sight of the two bodies curled up on the couch together. “Aw, hell, it’s too early for this!”

“It’s 10 AM, Yondu, you missed breakfast,” Gamora said without looking away from the television screen. “And you’ll have to cancel your date tonight, everything’s frozen over. I wouldn’t go out in that weather if I were you.”

Peter lifted his head from Gamora’s lap. “You had a date?”

“Why you sound so surprised, boy?” Offended, Yondu flicked the toothpick he was chewing on in Peter’s direction before ambling into the kitchen, digging around the pantry for some bread. “Just some cute SHIELD agent, that’s all. No biggie.”

“Is everyone tryna find dates for the Christmas party or something? Even Mantis said she might give it a shot with that girl she likes,” Peter asked, confused.

“We can’t all be as lucky as you two,” Rocket drawled, emerging from his own room, Groot in tow on his shoulder as always. “Some of us don’t get to spend every damn day hanging out with our girlfriends.” He sneered the last word like it was something dirty.

It was Yondu’s turn to be surprised, the butter knife hovering halfway in the air. “You sayin’ you had a girlfriend before, rat?”

Rocket’s face suddenly shut down, the usual smirk fading away in favor of anger. “Shut up.”

“It was just a question,” Yondu said defensively, though he bowed his head in apology. Peter glanced up at Gamora, exchanging curious looks with her before settling back down against her thighs, her fingers moving to massage his scalp.

“Hey, uh, Rocket, Gamora and I already defrosted the engine and did a performance check, so you don’t have to worry about that today,” Peter called, watching cautiously as he crossed the room to pull down one of the main holo-screens.

“That’s good. Thanks, Quill,” Rocket said tersely, keeping his back to them as he began navigating through the ship’s interface.

“Do you have plans this weekend, Rocket?” Gamora asked tentatively, her fingers beginning to slow to a near stop.

“Yeah, uh. I was gonna hang out with Groot. Maybe go over that vocabulary book you guys bought him.” The tension in his shoulders eased up a little as Groot snuggled a little into his cheek in gratitude. “Probably do it alone.”

“Are you sure you don’t want help? I mean, now that Gamora and I can understand him too, it’ll be less work for you,” Peter suggested.

Rocket slammed a paw very suddenly against the holo-screen, aggressively closing all the menus he had pulled up. “Y’know what, I don’t think I wanna hang around in here if everyone’s gonna be all talky-talky, alright? I’m gonna go work upstairs instead. No one follow me, I ain’t in the mood.” Groot let out a small whine of protest as Rocket set him down on the coffee table before storming off up the ladder.

“I shouldn’t’ve asked,” Yondu sighed as he settled down at the table with his breakfast. “Rat’s been real tetchy lately. Y’think it’s just the weather? Or something school-related, maybe?”

“It’s Rocket,” Gamora shrugged as if was the only answer they needed. “He’s got a temper, and asking him about it will only make it worse. Just leave him be for now. He’ll come to us if it’s really important.”

“Peter?” A very nervous-looking Mantis appeared at the end of the corridor, twiddling her thumbs. “May we talk in private? Please?”

“Yeah, of course.” Peter stood almost instantly, concerned, squeezing Gamora’s shoulder before moving to join Mantis in her room. She hastily shut the door behind them, a wild, almost terrified look in her eyes. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I am so scared,” Mantis whispered, taking shaky steps forward into Peter’s chest. His arms went up around her shoulders, pulling her in tight. “I do not know what to do.”

“Don’t know what to do about what?”

“What do...what do you do when you have romantic feelings for two people at the same time?”

Oh. Out of all the worst-case scenarios that had been racing through his mind in the last thirty seconds, he hadn’t expected that. Peter’s heart broke a little for his sister at the very thought. In many ways, he had been lucky with his relationship with Gamora. He had never experienced truly deep, romantic feelings for anyone before her, and although it had taken them a while to get to where they were now, neither of them ever wavered, never found themselves even considering the possibility of liking someone else at the same time. He wasn’t sure what to say that wouldn’t make Mantis feel worse. “I don’t know, Mantis, I...I never had that happen before. But you can talk it through with me if that...if it helps?”

He gently led her over to the bed, where they sat side-by-side, their socked feet pulled up onto the mattress. She was curled into herself now, arms wrapped protectively around her legs, her chin resting on her knee, staring unblinkingly at the door opposite them. She had never looked so childlike before, so completely and utterly lost, at least, not since they had first found her on Ego. “I know what you have all been thinking. About who it is. And you were incorrect. At least, at first.”

“You mean…” Peter swallowed.

“Yes,” Mantis murmured. “And I am worried that the rest of you have put that thought into my head, instead of it forming on its own. Does that make any sense?”

“You’re worried we’ve pressured you into thinking you have feelings for her,” he said carefully. “Mantis, I’m so sorry. We shouldn’t have pushed you so hard to talk about all this. It’s your feelings, not ours.”

“It has been very difficult for me,” she admitted. “I am not very good at understanding myself sometimes. But I want to. I want to know who I am, outside of being someone else’s person. Ego’s assistant, your sister, a member of the Guardians...who am I, Peter? And what is it that I want? What am I meant for?”

“I think those are questions only you get to answer,” he replied, reaching to squeeze her hand. “But if you need help figuring that out, I’m here for you, okay? And maybe it’ll help if you try talking to Gamora, too. She’s gotten pretty good at helping me with my emotional crises,” he added with a chuckle. “Knowing yourself before you get involved with someone else is usually a good idea. She’ll probably tell you the same thing.”

“You think so?” Mantis sniffled a little, wiping at her watery eyes.

“Gamora’s been through hell and back, we all know it. And I don’t think she would’ve even considered dating me if she couldn’t feel good about herself. And, y’know, maybe that doesn’t apply to everyone, because hell, no one’s sure of themselves all of the time. But if you’re super stressed out about it, then maybe you should start there. You can do it, Mantis. I believe in you.” He wrapped her in a big hug, kissing the top of her head.

She curled into him, laughing softly. “You have become so good at this, Peter. Advice-giving, I mean.” He was pleased to hear her voice already coming back stronger, warmer, like it always did.

“Comes with the job, I guess,” Peter shrugged. “Leader, brother, boyfriend. All of the above.”

“I’m sure Gamora would agree with me that you are doing an excellent job at all three,” Mantis grinned in return.

Meanwhile, in the living room, Gamora was tapping her foot idly as she waited, though she was keeping a steady eye on Groot. “I am Groot,” he pouted, burying himself deeper into the couch cushions as if he were attempting to disappear entirely. She immediately wrapped a hand around his middle and dragged him back out, frowning at him.

“I told you, no opening presents until the day of,” she said sternly. “Some people haven’t even gotten their gifts yet. Peter, for example.”

“I heard my name, did ya miss me?” Peter strolled back in with a cheesy smile on his face, arms open wide. Gamora glanced up at him, unimpressed.

“You’ve been gone for all of ten minutes, Peter. The silence was welcome,” she snarked, though she moved to lay her head on his chest the instant he sat back down. His broad shoulders made for a surprisingly comfortable pillow. “Groot’s complaining about not getting to open presents yet, despite the fact we have almost none ready, and we haven’t even gotten the tree yet. You were the one who insisted on us fulfilling holiday traditions this year.”

“I’ve been busy. Finals were awful,” Peter said defensively, wrapping his arms around her. “We’ve got time, and besides, the weather’s awful. No one’s getting a tree today. We’ll be lucky if we can even leave the ship tomorrow.”

Sighing, Gamora pulled up the blanket around them, releasing Groot so he could run up Peter’s torso and settle in on his other shoulder. “I suppose it’s better than last Christmas. I still don’t know how you ended up landing in jail, and then when we went to bail you out, we somehow got arrested, too.”

“I think that duchess liked me a little too much,” he said lazily, letting his head fall against the armrest.

“She had the most irritating voice I’ve ever heard in my life, and that’s saying something.” Gamora began picking at a piece of invisible lint on Peter’s sweater, refusing to meet his gaze.

“Is that jealousy I detect in your voice?” he teased.

She rolled her eyes, poking him in the stomach with a sharp fingernail. “You have some odd fascination with the idea that I’d be jealous of anyone romantically attracted to you. Besides, I wasn’t attracted to you at the time, so that doesn’t even count.”

“I am Groot,” Groot countered, his eyes wide as he watched them converse. It seemed to be one of his favorite pastimes.

“Exactly, thank you, Groot,” Peter said triumphantly. “So you’re saying there was a time.”

“Well.” Gamora turned her head entirely so her face was practically buried in the back of the couch. “It’s hardly a secret that I was suspicious of your relationship with Cindy. But that’s only because you were my ‘boyfriend’ already, and I was concerned about how it was going to look to others if you were interested in another girl, and why are we still discussing this? We should be talking about you not going holiday shopping yet, even though you were the one practically begging us to do this Secret Satan - ”

Peter let out a choked laugh. “It’s...it’s Santa, honey. Satan’s a different...uh...person.”

She frowned, her irritation growing. “Does it matter?”

“Trust me, you don’t wanna get those two mixed up.” He lifted a hand to run his fingers through her hair affectionately, his thumbs running soothing circles over her temples. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh. I just find it kinda cute whenever you get your references crossed. It gives me like, the weirdest visuals. Santa with a pitchfork and a tail - ” He cut himself off with a snort. She continued to look irked. “I’m not making fun of you, I promise. Please don’t murder me.”

“You’re lucky I like you.” She pinched him in retaliation. “Well, I already did my shopping with Mantis and Drax. Groot made Rocket and Yondu take him last week, which they claim is the reason they did rather subpar on their exams - as always, I’ve chosen not to listen to them - so that leaves you and - ”

“Oh, you gotta be kidding me.” Peter turned over, groaning into the cushions. “Please don’t tell me I’m going Christmas shopping with Nebula. I take back my request, murder me now.” ______

Quill.” A curt nod, refusal of eye contact, arms folded across her chest. Yes, that was Nebula, alright.

It wasn’t that Peter didn’t like Nebula - in fact, he liked her just fine, more than ever thought he would when they had first met on Knowhere while she was on a rampage, hunting Gamora down and nearly killing them all in the process - but it was rather the fact that, well, he was still kind of terrified of her. Just the tiniest bit. And who could blame him? She had a tendency to lurk in the background, no matter where they were or what they were doing. She somehow managed to fade into her surroundings, silently observing, whether during team meetings or dinner. And then, very suddenly, she would have a snarky quip or a violent outburst, the latter of which would cause Peter to have what felt like a mild heart attack.

However, Peter knew Nebula was of the utmost importance to Gamora. Despite constantly butting heads, he knew when it came down to it, the two sisters loved each other fiercely, though they would never outright admit it. He wanted to understand Nebula better, not just for Gamora’s sake, but for the sake of the entire team. He knew her general personality, her behaviors, her quirks, so to speak, but still knew so little of what she would be like as a teammate.

“This doesn’t have to be weird,” Peter told her as they got into the car (a cozy little hatchback, courtesy of Stark as always). “Why would it be weird? It’s just you...and me...hanging out together. Like we’ve...we’ve never done before.”

“Are you going to insist on talking the whole way?” Nebula buckled her seatbelt and promptly kicked her snow-covered boots up onto the dashboard, spraying little shards of ice everywhere, including the console, the emergency brake, and Peter’s arm.

“I could put the radio on instead,” he offered.

“Are you incapable of complete and total silence?” Nebula asked. “Or is it just that you like the sound of your own voice?”

“Right, I can already tell this is going to be a freaking joyride,” he muttered under his breath.

A couple hours of awkward silence later, the two of them arrived at the nearest mall, which, as predicted, was crowded with panicked shoppers, screaming children and babies, and salespeople who looked all of five seconds away from bursting into tears. Peter had to circle the parking lot at least three times before he managed to snatch up a spot furthest from the entrance, resulting in him slipping several times as they walked towards the doors. Nebula rolled her eyes at every last occurrence.

“Well, aren’t you the picture of grace,” she sighed when they finally reached the doors, yanking them open and practically stomping in. Peter could only watch in bewilderment as she began shaking more snow off her boots, not unlike a small dog. However, when she moved as if to make a run for it, he jumped forward to catch her wrist.

“Hey, hey, I promised Gamora we’d stick together, so you aren’t going anywhere without me,” he said firmly.

“And you do everything my sister tells you to do?” Nebula snorted.

“I do when she’s right, which is at least ninety-nine percent of the time,” he admitted. “Come on, let’s grab a store map and figure out where we’re going.”

There was a pause, though it wasn’t the kind of pause Nebula took when she was contemplating the various methods she had to kill a man, but an unreadable pause that made Peter shiver a little. Finally, she said, “Fine, but I want to go to the food court first.”

“Uh...not that I’m saying no, but why?”

“Iwanuhprezl.” She immediately turned on her heel away from him, though this time, she didn’t take another step.

“I...I didn’t catch that, what’d you say?”

“I want a pretzel,” Nebula mumbled. Peter blinked. Out of all the things he’d been expecting, this might’ve been at the very bottom of his nonexistent list. Still, he was pretty sure if he tried poking at what she’d just said, it would only result in broken fingers.

“I...okay, yeah, I could go for a pretzel,” he shrugged. They walked in silence towards the food court, Peter with his hands stuffed in his pockets, and Nebula’s stiffly at her side, her fingers tapping impatiently on the small pocket knife stashed on her belt (the only weapon Peter had allowed her to take). Then he brightened. “Hey, what kind of pretzel do you usually get? Savory? Sweet? Do you get dip? As a kid, I always wanted cinnamon sugar with caramel but my mom told me my teeth would literally rot of my head, but that didn’t scare me because I was like, ‘sweet, I wanna be a zombie!’ because apparently, the only word I heard was ‘rot’, and uh, you don’t care, so never mind.”

Silence. Then, “I want a cheese pretzel dog. I didn’t have breakfast.”

“Solid choice,” Peter nodded. “I can respect that.”

Fifteen minutes later, the two of them were sitting at one of the bar tables in the food court, devouring their respective pretzels. Peter was secretly pleased to see Nebula was eating at what he considered to be the ‘normal’ pace now. Even six months ago, she often ate like her food was going to get pulled out from under her any second, having become used to literally fighting for scraps. Like Gamora, he never wanted to see Nebula lose her confidence or her strength, but he was happy to see her becoming more relaxed in her own way, now that she was realizing she no longer had to fight to live.

“So I’m guessing you’re not gonna tell me who you got for Secret Santa,” he said. “Can I at least guess?”

“No.” She took a particularly vicious bite. Peter wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting.

“Well, it’s gotta be a better Christmas than last year, considering you spent two weeks stuck with Yondu while we were in jail,” he continued, undeterred, chuckling a little at the memory.

“I retreated to my dorm the moment it stopped snowing,” Nebula said, rolling her eyes. “You really think I was going to spend more time with that idiot than necessary?”

“Hey, that’s not fair. Give Yondu some credit, at least he’s trying to be your friend,” Peter protested. “Do you really hate him that much?”

“Why are you asking me so many questions?” she shot back, slamming her food down onto the table. It made an unpleasant squelching noise beneath her fingers in the process. “Did Gamora ask you to spy on me?”

“No!” he exclaimed. “She just wants me to look after you, but it’s not like she wants me to report back or anything. I just wanna get to know you better, that’s all. We never talk.”

“For a reason.” She stuffed the pretzel back in her mouth, chewing loudly. “Out of all the Terrans that I’ve met, I can’t believe it’s you that my sister has gone soft for.”

“Do you...do you think I’m bad for her?” Had he ever actually asked Nebula what he thought of his relationship with her sister? The idea had honestly never crossed his mind. It was silly in hindsight that he’d never considered it, since Gamora put more weight into Nebula’s opinions than she wanted to admit. Surely, she would have voiced her disapproval by now.

“Why does it matter what I think?”

“Because you’re the most important person in the whole damn world to Gamora, that’s why,” he said fiercely, leaning forward. “And if you think she deserves better, I wanna know why. I wanna know how I can do better.”

Nebula was first to break eye contact, instead electing to stare at her feet. “Fine. I’ll tell you what I think of you if you agree to never ask me again, and never tell Gamora we had this conversation.” He nodded eagerly in response. “You’re loud, obnoxious, overly dramatic, too energetic, and you never stop pestering all of us about being ‘family’.” Pausing, she lifted her head, narrowing her pitch-black eyes as if to examine him. “But...I suppose Gamora and I have never had someone so invested in our well-being in a very long time, or at least one who never expects anything in return. You make a decent leader when you actually try, though your speeches are horrendous. And I...trust you enough to eventually help us in our quest to kill Thanos, though I doubt you’ll survive the attempt.”

“Still thinking about that, huh?” he chuckled to himself, ignoring the passive-aggressive comments that were quintessential to really anything Nebula ever said. It seemed like eons ago since they first began seriously discussing going after Thanos, ending his terrifying reign once and for all, but he hadn’t made any moves in the last little while, giving the Guardians hope that they would have more time to prepare. Still, Peter knew Nebula was more anxious about it than anyone, even her sister. Her desperation for Thanos’s approval had been flipped on its side, now channeled into her hatred for what he had done to her and Gamora.

“You help her forget, even for just a little while, the unspeakable horrors we’ve been through, the horrid acts of pain and slaughter we’ve carried out in the name of a man who has done nothing but hurt us.” There was a twitch at the corner of her mouth that suggested she was attempting a proper smile. “You seem committed to making my sister believe in her self-worth, value her own happiness. So...I guess I can’t really fault you for that. Even if I don't care for either of those things myself.”

“I...wow.” Peter found himself struggling to choose his next words. For once, it wasn’t out of fear of what her reaction (or more accurately, her retaliation) would be, but of complete and utter shock. “Nebula, that’s...I don’t know what to say.”

“So you’re saying I’ve successfully shut you up? Good,” she smirked, though not out of malice. In a way, he felt as if they had reached an understanding of sorts, or at the very least, something of a truce. “Though like I said...if you tell Gamora any of what transpired just now, I will kill you.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that one before,” he laughed, bunching up his paper wrapper. “You ready to go?”

Shopping didn’t go quite as smoothly as Peter had anticipated, considering their conversation had ended on such a high note. Nebula was evasive when Peter tried to figure out where she wanted to go to get her Secret Santa gift, and the frequency of her eye-rolling increased tenfold once he requested they pick out more Christmas decorations for the ship.

“Don’t blame me, we were all too busy to go shopping during exams,” Peter said defensively. “Just help me pick out the damn Christmas lights. Should we get multi-colored? White? Red and green? These weird purple-y ones? I dunno what’s up with those.”

“Considering the ship is obnoxiously colorful, get white for general use and multicolor for the tree.” He stared at her in disbelief. She suddenly seemed to have realized she had put too much thought into her answer. “It’s obvious, you idiot.” That was more like it.

“Mistletoe’s unnecessary since no one’s kissing anyone but me and Gamora,” Peter said as they continued on. “Plus, she’d probably hate the idea of forced PDA.”

“She’s extraordinarily tactile when it comes to you, Quill, I wouldn’t worry about it.” Nebula’s ability to tap her foot impatiently as fast as she was going was starting to give Peter a headache.

“Wasn’t aware I asked for the peanut gallery,” he snarked in return. The confused expression he got in return was worth it.

When they went into the toy store to look for presents for Groot - he was beginning to develop a sizeable collection of plushies as large as he was - Peter found himself swarmed by children who recognized him, asking him to sign bits of paper or their Star-Lord dolls. Beaming, he complied instantly, trying his best to reach everyone in the crowd of approximately thirty people.

“What do you do at that big superhero school of yours?” one brave little one asked him, her eyes so huge that it reminded him of Mantis.

“Well, we just finished exams,” Peter said. At the kids’ disappointed faces, he hastily added, “But we had to fight this woman who came from Asgard last month - y’know, that place where Thor is from? - and it turns out she was the goddess of death!”

“Ooh,” said about seven different tiny voices in near-perfect synchronicity.

“How did ya beat her?” one skeptical boy asked.

“There was this other woman who came to help defeat the goddess of death - her name is Valkyrie, you might’ve seen her on the news. Super cool, white marks on her face, big blue cape? And she got lots of the other girls on campus to help her with all of their weapons, and powers, and skills, to send the goddess of death back to where she came from,” Peter explained. “Oh, Nebula for example. She was one of them.” He gestured towards her.

“Are you a hero too, miss?” One of the littlest girls took a step closer towards Nebula. She looked no older than four. Peter shot her a pleading look over the girl’s head. He knew by now that Gamora had grown comfortable with dealing with admiring children, while Nebula still snarled at Groot when she was feeling particularly tempestuous.

“It varies from day to day,” she drawled, folding her arms across her chest. That seemed to satisfy the girl well enough, as she stepped back to join the rest of the crowd once more.

“Tell us more about the Val’krie!” one girl begged.

Peter chuckled. “Sure. Well, I haven’t really hung out with her or anything, but she’s friends with my girlfriend, Gamora - you guys know who she is, right? - and oh, man, watching them train together is super awesome…”

“How could you possibly stand being around those little creatures?” Nebula shuddered. It had been fifteen minutes since they had left the toy store, now armed with bags of free merchandise, courtesy of the manager. “Unpredictable, noisy, obnoxious, asking too many questions...you know what? Never mind. You must be entirely at kin.”

“Har-har,” Peter said sarcastically. “Kids are great when they're not tryna cause trouble. They’re just curious, that's all. You were never like that?”

“You’re asking me to remember a period of my life that has been long removed from memory,” she said darkly. Whether she had simply chosen to forget it, or Thanos had actually physically done something to her memory, Peter wasn’t sure, and he didn’t think it would be right to ask. “Are you telling me Gamora still has memories of childhood?”

“She never talked about it much. She says she remembers bits and pieces about her parents, but she sometimes forgets them entirely,” Peter admitted. “Is it like that for you?”

“As always, you ask too many questions,” Nebula sighed, though she didn’t continue on with another threat. Peter considered that to be a sign of progress. “Oh, there’s that store with too many shirts and toys.”

“Yeah, Hot Topic. Maybe I’ll buy something for Gamora, she loves getting her gloves there,” he replied, grinning easily.

They returned to the school campus a mere hour before dinnertime, loaded with a surprising amount of shopping bags. Nebula was in unusually good spirits after they had come across a stall selling toy weapons. She had insisted upon buying one for both Gamora and Rocket, wanting to plant them among their existing inventory and see how long it would take for them to notice. Peter was just surprised she even understood the concept of a prank in the first place.

“You’re not terrible, Quill,” Nebula said as they pulled up to the entrance gates. “Though I’m definitely not a fan.”

“Fair enough,” Peter replied as he passed their ID cards to the security guard. “You aren’t my favorite either. But we’re cool now, right? Like, less death threats and stuff?”

She side-eyed him before snorting, shaking her head. “Sure, Quill. ‘Less death threats and stuff’. But only because I don’t want to put up with Gamora’s incessant whining if I were to harm a single hair on your head.”

Upon boarding the ship, they were immediately greeted by Gamora, who was sitting by the entrance, twisting the multitude of silver rings that adorned her fingers rather anxiously. “No injuries, I see,” she said dryly as she moved to help them with their bags.

“We’re practically best friends now,” Peter said cheerfully as he began unloading his haul onto the coffee table. “Sorry, Gamora, you’ve been demoted.”

“I’ll get over it,” she shrugged, turning towards her sister. “Nebula?”

“He’s not a total loser,” Nebula replied, unceremoniously dropping all of her bags onto the floor. There was a crunching noise that made both Peter and Gamora wince. “I suppose you could have picked a worse Terran to fall in love with.”

“I think that’s the nicest thing I’ve ever heard you say about Peter,” Gamora said, smirking as she stepped closer to him, patting him placatingly on the arm. “Don’t you agree?”

“Sure,” Peter said, catching Nebula’s wary gaze. She was practically pleading him to stay silent. “I don’t really pay attention when she’s talking, to be super honest with you.”

Rolling her eyes, Gamora swatted him with a dish towel before pulling him over to the kitchen so they could set the dining table together. Nebula flopped onto the couch, kicking her feet up onto the armrest, smiling a little to herself. Yes, she supposed her sister could have done a lot worse in choosing a companion. But he turned out to be a half-decent leader after all. Friendship, however? That was still an entirely different story. Nebula didn’t want friends, never wanted friends, but...in a strange way, maybe he had become one without her realizing it. Dammit. ______

“Gamora? Are you busy at the moment?” Gamora startled a little from where she was curled up on the couch, looking up from her book. Drax was looming over her, and if she were anyone else, she might have been a little wary about his otherwise serious expression, but if anything, she was just a little annoyed.

“Do you need something?” she asked with a raised brow, sliding her thumb across the page to hold it in place.

“Quill requested that Mantis and I make cookies for the team, but seeing as Mantis has fallen ill…” He trailed off uncertainly.

“You want me to be her substitute.” Gamora nodded in understanding, closing her book and getting to her feet. “Sure, why not?”

Drax gave her a grateful smile before they walked into the kitchen. They worked in silence for a few minutes, gathering up utensils and ingredients in accordance with the recipe Peter had provided them. Unlike the way Drax and Mantis cooked, using Terran recipes they had found in books or online, Peter’s recipe was written down by hand on a notecard. Gamora remembered when he had told her about the way his mother had indexed and revised her recipes, a habit he had since picked up himself. She smiled fondly at the messy scribbles on the card, the way Peter had written “approximately” at least half a dozen times in various spots, unsure of whether he had remembered it exactly right.

“How have you been, Gamora?”

She turned away from the stick of butter she was slicing up to look over her shoulder at Drax. “Fine, I suppose. My exams went well, I did all of my shopping, got all of the team paperwork completed for the year, and - ”

He chuckled, though not unkindly. “I meant your general well-being, not your to-do list. You are usually quite stressed this time of year.”

“Well, I'll tell you a secret, Drax,” Gamora hummed, turning back to the task at hand. “I’m always stressed.” He let out a jovial laugh, a full-bellied chuckle that betrayed his otherwise imposing presence. He passed her the mixing bowl so she could add the butter. “I have relaxed a fair bit since this time last year, though. Probably because of my increasing closeness to the rest of you.”

“It is a delight to see,” Drax nodded. “Your happiness is integral to all of us, Gamora. It would be a shame if you were worn out.” He moved back to the other side of the kitchen to begin working on the dry ingredients. “Quill told me you’re starting your fight classes next month. Are you not concerned about your impending workload?”

“I can handle it.” She smiled a little to herself as she began stirring. “Besides, it’s not like I’m alone in all this. Peter shares my Guardian work, and Nebula and I have an equal hand in fight training. As I’ve said, if there’s anything I’ve learned these past couple of years, being with this team, it’s that we should let other people be part of our lives. There’s value in teamwork.”

“I imagine with the difficult life you led beforehand, it must be a relief to be here.” Drax pulled up a stool and sat down, facing her. It was a little comical, considering the stool was built for an average-sized person while he dwarfed it by a long shot, but he looked quite pensive otherwise.

Drax was certainly a curious one to Gamora, perhaps the sole person of the group that she empathized with the most, and yet understood the least. His single-minded determination to kill her when they had first met told her he was a brute and a bully, someone who couldn’t see the forest for the trees. He spoke with a diverse vocabulary, yet understood little of the semantics of language and socialization, perhaps even less than she and Nebula. Later, she came to understand it was the nature of his people, and she felt shameful to have judged him at all. Now, she had a better sense of his true self - kind, loving, fiercely loyal and protective of those he cared about, and she was glad to be considered one of his loved ones.

She was also grateful that he had never described to her, in detail, the deaths of his family. He had told her the general gist of what had happened, but a part of her always wondered if he still somewhat resented her for it, despite her having no hand in the actual crime.

“Do you still think of her?” Gamora asked quietly.

“Why do you ask?”

“Well…” She hesitated before settling down on a stool herself, opposite him. “A little while ago, Rocket seemed to imply he used to have someone - a significant other, that is. And he said that some people couldn’t be as lucky as Peter and I. It got me thinking, if our relationship made you uncomfortable, or made you feel sad…”

“I do think of Hovat.” Drax folded his hands neatly in his lap. “Perhaps not as often as you might imagine, but every now and then, I have a quiet moment to myself, and I think fondly of her. I think of how we met, the time we spent together. How, had I not invited her over to my family’s home that night, she would not have been killed alongside them. We did not live together yet, but it felt inevitable that we would someday. Now…” He trailed off.

“I wish it could’ve been different for you. You’ll get your vengeance someday, I promise.”

He shook his head, smiling weakly. “No, Gamora. I have no need for revenge any longer. Besides, I believe you and Nebula deserve the chance to kill Thanos just as much as I do, if not much more. Despite having heard very little stories and seen no physical scars, I can only imagine that the pain he inflicted upon both of you is worth his death many times over.”

“We’ll get that bastard someday.” They both turned to see Peter standing in the doorway, wearing a ratty old band T-shirt, yawning and scratching at his belly. “You guys baking in here? Smells good.”

“As per your request,” Drax said, getting to his feet. “Another Terran tradition of yours, yes?”

“Usually, yeah.” Peter kissed Gamora chastely on the forehead before moving to grab the water pitcher from the fridge. “Better tradition than telling your kids about the night you made them.”

“You have such odd hang-ups about intimacy, Quill,” Drax chuckled, shaking his head in amusement.

“Uh, would you like it if I told you, in detail, about every single time Gamora and I have sex?” Peter brandished the jug at Drax and ended up splashing water on himself instead.

“I know I wouldn’t,” Gamora said loudly, prodding him in the gut with her foot. “Don’t encourage him, Peter. Next thing you know, he’ll request to be present.” Peter shuddered at the very thought, shuffling several feet away from Drax in response.

“I’ll leave you guys to it,” Peter said hastily, grabbing the cough syrup from the coffee table. “Just dropping by to get some stuff for Mantis.” He gave them an awkward wave before slowly backing away down the corridor. Gamora couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his antics.

“Such a strange one, that Quill,” Drax commented once Peter was out of sight. “But I must admit, he has become more and more valuable these days. I could not imagine the team without him.”

“His effort is quite admirable,” Gamora replied with a gentle smile.  They began pulling out the old, rusted cookie sheets, scooping up the dough and divvying out what they hoped to be evenly-sized dough balls. “It’s what all of us should be trying to do, don’t you agree? To be better versions of ourselves?”

“A good way of thinking about it,” Drax nodded. “You have always been the wisest of us all, Gamora. It is one of the many things I admire about you. Though honestly, it was also what made me curious about what you saw in Quill, romantically. His intelligence and maturity seemed lacking in comparison to yours. But I see now that you two hold the utmost respect for each other, understanding and devotion. I liken it to my relationship with Hovat.”

“I can tell by the way you talk about her that she meant everything to you.” Gamora leaned back onto the counter, watching Drax contemplatively as he slid the cookie sheets into the oven, wincing a little at the screeching noise it made. “Do you think you’ll ever seek another romantic relationship again?”

“Part of me worries it will be seen as disrespectful to what I had with Hovat,” Drax said, straightening back up. He looked anguished at the very thought of upsetting her. “In my culture, we believe that the spirit lives on. And perhaps her spirit will curse me for wanting to be with another.” He smiled in remembrance. “But she was not a vengeful person, my Hovat. I believe she would want me to be happy. However, I have yet to meet a person who I wish to share my affections with. Like with Hovat, I think I will see them and just…know. Which is why I choose not to go on those dating websites or ‘apps’ that Quill has told me about.”

“Smart move,” Gamora said dryly. “Well, there’s no rush. You have time.”

“Yes, I do.” Drax grinned a little wider, serene. “There are still many things I hope to do someday. I have already been in love once. I still love her, of course. But falling in love again, it simply isn’t a priority compared to what else life has to offer me. Taking on Thanos at last, for example. Not out of vengeance, but a desire to, well, guard the galaxy. Prevent others from suffering the same fate as my family, as yours. An honorable lifetime endeavor, I would say.”

“And a hefty title and reputation to hold, at that,” Gamora added, holding up her glass of water. Drax let out a merry laugh and clinked his cup against hers, drinking deeply as if it were the finest of wines. ______

Mantis emerged from her bedroom, practically dragging her feet, inhaling loudly. She winced a little at the whistling noise her nose made as she did. She was almost over her flu – she had never fallen ill via Terran sickness before, and it was decidedly unpleasant compared to some alien ailments she had experienced while living with Ego.

She stumbled her way up the ladder to the cockpit, curious about the echoing sound of clanking and clattering. She expected to see Peter there, digging around for some lost trinket or gadget as he often did, blaming his misplaced items on the others as always. To her surprise, she found Rocket instead, who was frantically emptying out a large, worn-out cardboard box, muttering to himself under his breath like a crazed person.

“Rocket? Is everything okay?”

“Quill ain’t here, bug-girl,” Rocket snapped without looking up. “So you can piss off.”

“Do not talk to me like that,” Mantis frowned, getting closer so she could kneel beside him. She was hardly ever deterred by Rocket’s behavior at this point, having gotten too used to his mood swings. “Maybe I can help.”

“Do you know how any of this stuff works?” Rocket gestured at the pile of what looked to be circuit boards and data chips, some of which looked incredibly broken and brittle. “If you don’t, I can repeat what I said earlier.”

“I only want to help,” Mantis repeated. “Tell me what you are looking for and let me try and find it.”

Sighing, Rocket threw down the flash drive he was holding and slumped back onto his hind legs. There was a sense of defeat in him that Mantis rarely ever detected, a resignation in his eyes so unusual it disturbed her. Of all the Guardians, she avoided Rocket the most, only ever interfering with his emotions if another was at risk. Otherwise, she knew he was secretly afraid of her, of what she could do. It still hurt her feelings a little bit, him thinking she would ever manipulate or betray his trust like that, but she understood where he was coming from. Sometimes, she was a bit scared of what she was capable of, too.

“My display’s been all outta whack lately,” he said, picking up the wrist computer he often toted around. “Something inside must’ve literally cracked. But I can’t find a match for the broken piece.” He turned it over to show her the open hatch, where she did indeed see a section with a corner broken off, the minuscule lights stuttering and flashing as if in warning.

“That seems to be quite old,” she said thoughtfully, carefully taking it from him. “Have you considered building a new one? You must be quite the expert in doing so.”

“No!” Rocket exclaimed, yanking it back. “I have to…I have to fix this one. I have to.”

“Okay. Okay.” Mantis held up her hands defensively. “Okay, then let us look. Are there more boxes of these things anywhere else? Have you asked Peter, maybe? This ship has many nooks and crannies we have never been to.”

“I already asked, and this is all we got, so.” Once again, the tightness in his shoulders melted away as he leaned against the box in hopelessness, the tips of his ears drooping. “Oh, this ain’t happening. I’m not gonna be able to do this.” The wrist computer let off an alarming series of sparks as if to agree with him.

“I’m sorry, Rocket.” She worried at her bottom lip, unsure of what to do. She wasn’t sure why this was so important to him, especially right at this very second, but she was determined to stop him from giving up. At least one thing was for certain – she needed to calm him down, not with her powers, but with her words. “Should I go get Peter? He would be more knowledgeable about what to do – ”

“No, no, we ain’t telling Quill about this.” He yanked the device off his arm and threw it so hard that the glass display cracked on impact. “Shit.”

Rocket made no move to pick it up, staring at it with wide eyes, frozen. Mantis crawled forwards to grab it and bring it back, turning it over gently in her hands. “It’s okay. It is only a small crack. The glass will be easy to replace.”

Suddenly snapping out of it, Rocket glared at her like she had been the one to throw it in the first place. “You really don’t get it, do you?” he snarled. “What, you not tryna read my mind or whatever the hell it is you do – ”

“And I have said many times before, I read emotions, not minds,” she said patiently, settling in across from him. “So if you are frustrated because I do not understand you, then make me understand.”

“No.” He shook his head almost violently. “No, no one knows, ‘cept Groot. And I aim to keep it that way.”

“I find another perspective is always helpful,” she offered. When he remained silent, eyes narrowed as if he were contemplating whether to snap the antennae off her forehead, she simply smiled in return. “When I was living on Ego’s planet, all I ever knew, for the longest time, was him. I knew what he thought of the world, what he wanted from the world. And I went along with him because I thought he was clever, I thought he was kind. But that was because I did not know what other beings were like. Then, his children began to appear to us. Children of many different races and backgrounds. Some I knew for weeks. Some for just a few hours, before they would disappoint him. And then they would be gone, just like that. Still, I began to empathize more with the children than with him. I saw different ideas of what it meant to be united, to be a collective group of people, instead of Ego’s idea of The Expansion. To live in harmony. But I did not believe that I would ever be able to leave Ego behind, as I was too used to being with him. I was becoming too reliant. It was not until you all arrived that I began to understand my true purpose. What I was meant to be doing, how I could help.”

Rocket broke eye contact first, casting his gaze down on the floor, arms still folded defensively across his chest. “Yeah, yeah, another perspective. You should really be in charge of that motivational speech crap that Quill’s a big fan of, y’know? At least you don’t ramble on about some TV show no one’s ever seen.” She fixed him with another patient smile before he exhaled slowly, relenting. “You really wanna know?”

“Yes,” she said softly. “I do.”

Another long, shaky exhale. “This…this thing. It didn’t belong to me originally. It belonged to 89P14. Her name was Lylla.” He sniffled so quietly Mantis almost thought she’d imagined it, if not for the wetness on his nose. “We were both…monsters. Created in a lab. Except she wasn’t a monster at all. She was…sweet. Optimistic. Upbeat. A real good soul, y’know? Never gave up hope on thinkin’ we’d be able to escape the lab one day. We lived in cages right next to each other. And when we weren’t being experimented on, we talked. We could talk for hours. And the stupid thing is, it’s not like we had tons to talk about. Neither of us knew any sorta life outside of those cages. But we liked to imagine the kind of adventures we’d get to go on once we got out. It distracted us from the pain we were in.”

“What happened?” Mantis prompted, though she had a sinking feeling she knew what was coming next.

“What else? We got brave…and stupid. Or in Lylla’s case, hopeful. She always had so much hope.” He chuckled weakly. “We tried to escape. Devised a whole plan. It was s’posed to be airtight. But I guess one of the others must’ve heard us, wanted to get us in trouble so we’d get put through the ringer and they’d be left alone. The thing is, the assholes working in the labs, they can’t survive the outside air on Halfworld, so Lylla and I punctured all of their bio-suits ahead of time. But they didn’t know that, so they chased me and her all up and down the complex, aiming to stun, not kill. We were too valuable for that. But then we got to the final gate that would lead to our freedom, and it was stuck. Some stupid freakin’ fingerprint-protected thing, y’know? And Lylla, she was the only one who knew tech better than I did, so she insisted I run ahead and she’d get it open. Like a dumbass, I did what she told me to. I always did. So the gates open, I’m runnin’, and I turn around and she’s just standing there. All the scientists, they start panicking ‘cause the air’s comin’ in. So they just snatch her up and run back for cover. Gate closes. And that’s the last I ever saw of her.”

“Rocket…” Mantis’s eyes watered. She wanted to reach over and comfort him somehow, but the last time she had tried to pet him, it hadn’t gone so smoothly. Her fingers trembled with desperation. “I don’t know what to say. I am so sorry.”

“Par for the course, right?” He tilted his head upwards, staring off into nothing, his dark eyes glossy with tears. “When those assholes were workin’ on me, I was always in pain. Still am sometimes. But never...never here.” He weakly tapped his own chest with a shaking claw. “Not until that day.”

“Tell me.” Rocket turned to look at her in confusion. “Tell me if it ever gets so bad that it physically hurts. My powers are only a temporary solution, but at least it will provide you some relief. It will not make you forget her, or what she meant to you. I promise. Do not hesitate to ask me, Rocket.”

“You gotta let me have some of my pride left intact,” he chuckled half-heartedly. “And it’s stupid – this whole d’ast thing is stupid – but even though it’s just a dumb Terran holiday, Quill going on and on about how this time of year is for family and loved ones just reminds me even more that she’s gone.”

“I know we are no substitute for how you felt about her, but do not ever doubt that we care about you,” Mantis said, smiling warmly. “And��maybe this is a stupid question, but how do you know that Lylla actually died in the lab that day?”

“What…what do ya mean?” There was an almost startling spark of wistfulness in Rocket’s eyes. Mantis found herself worrying that she was already getting his hopes too high.

“Well…say that the contaminated air from the outside got into the lab. All the scientists die. Lylla and the others survive,” she said slowly.

“No, that’s…that’s impossible. They would’ve come outta the lab, I would’ve seen ‘em.”

“Maybe. Or maybe the scientists died a slow death, and the others had to wait. Or maybe they spent some time gathering supplies from the lab, or seeking vengeance upon the people and the place that destroyed them.” Mantis shrugged. “I am just saying, there are many possible outcomes here.”

“So you’re saying…if I had just waited…just a little bit longer…I might’ve seen her again?” His ears drooped once more, shaking his head slowly. “I was just so caught up in the idea of her death that I just ran off when I could've waited.”

“It is only one scenario, Rocket. Do not beat yourself up for what you did or what you could have done,” Mantis said reassuringly. “I am just saying…have some faith. And that includes having faith in this computer of yours. Surely we must be able to find a replacement. If not on this ship, then elsewhere. You do not have to tell the others your reasons in detail. Just tell Peter that it is important to you, and I’m sure he will help.”

“…I could return to Halfworld.” He turned the wrist computer over and over again, as if it possessed some magic qualities that would tell him what to do next. “They’d probably have the parts I need.”

“There you go,” Mantis beamed. “All hope is not lost. It might be too cold to take the Milano out at the moment, but when it gets warmer again, we can go to Halfworld and help in your search.”

“Y’know what? You ain’t so bad, bug-girl,” Rocket said. He reached over to place a paw on her forearm, usually the kind of move that she had to make to placate him. “Maybe it’s all that holiday spirit voodoo crap that Quill’s been talking about, but I’m feelin’ generous, so. Thanks. For…this.”

“I am your friend, whether you admit it or not,” she teased. “I am just glad I can be here for you. I always feel so much anger…resentment…from you. Sometimes even more so than Nebula. I much prefer it when you are happy.”

He grinned toothily, baring his fangs in a way that made Mantis involuntarily flinch a little. “So do I, kid. So do I.” ______

“Well, it’s about d’ast time,” Rocket said triumphantly, watching as Drax hefted the tree a little higher on his shoulder, strolling up the loading ramp of the Milano as if it weighed no more than his backpack. “I was startin’ to think Quill was playing a joke on us, tellin’ us that humies put presents around a tree in their living room. Thought you were tryna mess with Groot or something.”

“I’m not that big of a dick, thank you very much,” Peter grumbled. He was walking closely behind Drax, holding the accompanying stand and tree skirt. “Honey, you got the decorations?”

“I can already tell you went overboard,” Gamora retorted with a resigned sigh as she emerged from the storage closet. She was carrying a large cardboard box that was bursting at the seams, weighed down with Christmas lights, ornaments, and the like, all things Peter had been slowly accumulating over the last month in anticipation of finally celebrating the holiday season on Earth. “I gave you a budget for a reason, Peter.”

“Trust me, you won’t regret it once you see it in action!" He and Drax began setting the tree down in the corner of their already-cramped living area, carefully adjusting the skirt and fanning it outwards to make it look somewhat presentable. The others watched, somewhat unimpressed.

“It’s going to shed everywhere,” Mantis said uncertainly. “Is this really what Terrans do, Peter?”

“You guys won’t doubt me once we get these going,” Peter replied, walking over to Gamora and patting the top of the decoration box. “Come on, everyone jump in!”

“I hope you do not mean literally,” Drax said, apprehensively eyeing the size of the box. The look in his eyes told the others he was mentally calculating how many of them could fit inside.

“I never do, dude. I never do.”

They worked in hesitant silence for the first couple of minutes, an admittedly welcome sound considering the usual chaotic atmosphere of the ship. Nebula was the only one not participating, electing to instead sprawl across the armchair, watching as the others strung up lights, hung up ornaments, and wound some tinsel around the tree. Groot was standing on the very tip of Yondu’s fin in order to place the glittering star on top.

“What are these for?” Mantis asked, pulling out yet another plastic package from the box, the very last of the decorations. Each bag contained oval chalkboard ornaments with a small hole puncture, strung with peppermint-striped ribbon.

“We can personalize those,” Peter suggested. “I was thinking we could write our names, or maybe Christmas-y sayings, or stuff that we loved about this year. There’s fifty of ‘em in there.”

They all shot him dubious looks, unsure of whether they even had enough ideas to fill all fifty chalkboard ornaments. Peter faltered a little at the sight of everyone’s expressions, wondering if once again, he had overdone it in his enthusiasm. But then Gamora stepped forwards first, opening up the plastic package with her teeth and taking out a stack for herself, along with an accompanying piece of white chalk. She settled down on the floor next to Nebula’s feet, bringing her knees up close to her chest, and began carefully sketching out her name in neat script.

Yondu laughed very suddenly, startling Groot, who was still perched on his head. “Oh, hell, why not?” He proceeded to do the same as Gamora, grabbing extra for Groot before setting him back down on the coffee table.

Gradually, the others began queuing up for materials, Peter being the last one, an internal sense of relief settling into his bones. He sat next to Gamora, trying to ignore the sway of Nebula’s feet next to his head (he was pretty sure she was doing it on purpose). “Thanks, Gamora,” he said softly.

“I’ve got your back,” she smiled in return. “Besides, it’s not like I have anything better to do.” He nudged her shoulder with his playfully, laughing quietly. “What did you love about this year, Peter?”

“Classes were more interesting,” he began slowly, tilting his head in deep thought. His fingers began drumming out a beat on his knees. Gamora was surprised to find she could identify the song quite easily, though considering how much time she spent in his company nowadays, maybe it wasn’t so surprising after all. “I really liked learning, actually. I don’t usually like school, but this place is pretty awesome. Oh, and we had way more successful missions, since we actually know what we’re doing.”

“Other than the one where we were stranded on an abandoned planet and thought everyone else was dead,” she added, waving her chalk at him. “I can’t say that was entirely pleasant.”

“Figured that went without saying,” he chuckled. “I feel like I also made more friends this year, since there were so many new students that joined up. And I’m definitely closer to all the Guardians than before, which is always a bonus. I think even Nebula’s beginning to like me.” The swift, but gentle kick to the back of his head told him otherwise. “Ow, okay, I take it back. But it feels like a real family now. Kicking included.”

“Strangest one I’ve ever seen, but I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Gamora confessed. She began sketching out a tiny version of her sword on her ornament, her tongue slightly poking out in concentration, eyebrows knitted together. His heart melted a little at the sight.

“And of course, you.” Peter slung an arm over her shoulders, turning to kiss her forehead. “Don’t think I need to tell you how you’re kind of one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. I wouldn’t be nearly as happy or successful as a leader if you weren’t right here by my side.”

“We started off in a rough place back then, but I have no regrets about the outcome.” She slid her socked foot neatly between his, tapping him with her toes. “Being co-leaders, best friends, romantic partners…I honestly thought it would be too much. That it would mean we had too many responsibilities to each other, too much emotional investment, too much to ask of each other, but…I think we’ve found even footing. Both a separation and a merging of our roles, so to speak.”

“How romantic of you,” he teased. “You sound like we’re going into business together.”

She prodded him in the cheek with her chalk in retaliation, leaving a white streak in his stubble that was rather comical-looking. “Do you want me to gush over your virtues, Quill?” He shivered a little at the use of his last name – she never called him that anymore despite originally using it exclusively, and he had to admit, it sort of did something for him. “Lavish you with affection, boost your ego?”

“It’s all I ever ask for,” he said sarcastically, wiping at his face.

“You know how much I care about you, Peter.” She softened, her dark eyes warm with affection. “Please don’t make me say it when everyone else is in the room.” She was beginning to grow flushed with every word she spoke.

He dipped his head to bury his face into her jawline, pleased when she began to laugh at the sensation, her fingers digging into his side. “I can’t believe you’re embarrassed at how much you love me,” he sing-songed triumphantly. “Aw, Gamora. I love you too.”

“Have I mentioned you two are insufferable?” They both looked up to see Nebula leaning over them. Now she was the one brandishing chalk in their faces. They had to duck in order to avoid getting the spray of chalk dust in their eyes.

“This would only be the thousandth time,” Gamora retorted. She pulled Peter a little closer into the crook of her neck out of petulance. “If you don’t like it, sit somewhere else.”

“I was here first!” Nebula exclaimed incredulously. Peter couldn’t help but notice a childlike squeak on the last word, but decided against saying anything. He wasn’t looking to be blinded via chalk dust, not today.

“She has a point,” he shrugged. “There’s more room on the couch. Let’s cuddle obnoxiously until Yondu makes gagging noises. Again.”

“You know I will,” Yondu called from the kitchen, where he was leaning against the counter island. “You’re lucky I like you both, or I woulda skipped out on this nonsense a long time ago!”

“I am not embarrassed,” Gamora mumbled as she dragged him over to the couch. ______

Yondu wasn’t being facetious when he said he liked Peter and Gamora, that he thought they were a good match. He knew the others had had their doubts back in the days of trying to set them up, but he never wavered, not when it came to Peter’s love life. After all, he’d grown up alongside him, watched him blossom from a scrappy little kid to a (relatively) responsible young man. Gamora made Peter incredibly happy, had become his other half in many ways so quickly, that Yondu was honestly surprised anyone ever questioned the legitimacy or compatibility of their relationship.

That being said, he wasn’t a fan of constantly seeing their...intimacy.

And okay, he was lucky enough to have never caught them in the act before. He had accidentally witnessed plenty on the Eclector when Peter was a bit of a flirt, enough times that Yondu was a little too familiar with what he looked like, sans clothes. But in a way, it was almost worse seeing them cuddle.

“Not again,” Yondu groaned as he turned around from his spot by the fridge. “Were you even here five seconds ago, girl?”

On the battlefield, Gamora was fierce, relentless, unwavering. She stared down death as if it were just another face in the crowd. Seeing her wearing an oversized Christmas sweater (likely one of Peter’s), tucked into his side in the armchair despite it only having room for one, with a book in hand, kind of challenged that image for Yondu.

“Grow up, Yondu,” she retorted without looking up. “You would think you’d all be used to this by now, but you still insist on acting like a child whenever Peter and I are remotely close to each other.”

“I am Groot?”

“I didn’t mean that as an insult to children, Groot, I apologize.” Gamora leaned over to pet Groot in consolation, where he was stood on the coffee table, pouting.

“You’d think for a guy who schemed about getting us together, he’d be a little happier about it,” Peter smirked, giving Gamora a particularly sloppy kiss on the cheek. She wrinkled her nose and swatted at him, wiping away the saliva he’d left on her face.

“I am happy for ya,” Yondu insisted. “I just thought you’d be the more private type, G’mora.”

“I choose to no longer fear intimacy,” she said patiently, setting her book on the armrest. “I feel most comfortable with myself around all of you, so I make the effort to be more affectionate when it’s just us, especially since Peter is a very tactile person. It’s not like I’m constantly hanging off of him in public. And it’s not my problem that you also happen to be here.” Peter snickered into her shoulder.

“Ri-i-ight,” Yondu drawled. “Sure, that’s what it is. Well, I gotta go make my call to Kraglin, make sure he’s doin’ okay. Anyone wanna join me?”

Groot perked right up, waving his arms in the air enthusiastically. “I am Groot!” he chirruped.

“Sure, twig, I’m sure Krag’ll be happy to hear from ya.” Yondu scooped him up and set him on his shoulder. Groot hummed happily in response, his little fingers holding steadfast to Yondu’s ear. “I’ll leave you two alone like you want. Don’t go defiling the furniture, now.”

“How do ya know we haven’t already?” Peter called after Yondu’s retreating back.

Yondu didn’t give him the satisfaction of any sort of visceral reaction. After all, he could hear a grunt that told him Gamora had elbowed Peter in the gut for his insinuation. Instead, he turned to Groot and said, “You’ve got some weird parents, twig.” Groot shrugged nonchalantly in response.

They spent a few minutes in comfortable silence as Yondu attempted to get everything set up. Coordinating calls with Kraglin was always a bit of a nightmare, what with him being hundreds of thousands of clicks away at any given time, but it was worth it. Yondu missed Kraglin fiercely, secretly wished he would come join the school alongside him, be on a team together again. But Kraglin didn’t like school, had never been good at it, and his talents clearly lay elsewhere – captaining the Eclector. And Yondu didn’t trust anyone else to do the job (especially that stupid what’s-his-face).

Groot was enjoying himself in the meantime, bouncing up and down on Rocket’s chair, squealing and whooping with delight. Yondu’s eyes darted over to him every minute or so to make sure he wasn’t entertaining himself with the buttons on the console instead. “Be careful, kid, or you’re gonna send us flyin’.”

“I am Groot,” he retorted, insulted.

“I’m just sayin’, that’s all,” Yondu replied, holding up his hands defensively. “Alrighty, we’re in, I think. Krag? You there, boy?”

“H – zzt – ah – zzt – yeah – zzt – yeah, I’m here.” The speakers in the cockpit of the Milano screeched to life rather unpleasantly. “Howzit goin’, cap?”

“I keep tellin’ you to stop callin’ me that,” Yondu said, brightening. “You’re the captain now, Krag. Don’t forget it.”

“How could I? Everyone’s always hollerin’ at me about somethin’,” Kraglin grumbled. “It’s hell, Yondu.”

“Welcome to life, boy,” Yondu snorted. “And watch your language, I got twig here with me.”

Kraglin’s voice immediately softened. “Oh, hey, Groot. How’s it goin’, bud?”

“I am Groot,” Groot nodded, clutching onto the edges of the holo-screen as if it would improve his chances of being understood. “I am Groot…I am Groot…I am Groot? I am Groot.”

“Uhh.” Kraglin paused. “What’d he say?”

“You think I know?” Yondu snapped. “I still don’t quite understand him yet. Getting there.”

“But you said Pete and Gamora, they can talk to ‘im now, right? Maybe you just gotta hang out with the kid more."

“How can I? He’s the most popular Guardian, no matter how much Quill pretends it’s him. Always being passed around from person to person, everyone wantin’ a piece of him. Must be exhausting.” Groot let out a whine of protest, reaching to pat Yondu on the face affectionately. Even Yondu could help but feel a little warmer at the sight of his large, dark eyes. It was hard not to.

“An’ how’s everyone else doing? All the, uh, holiday stuff Pete’s got going on?”

“Think the stress has finally passed,” Yondu commented thoughtfully, patting Groot on the back. “We got a Christmas tree inside the ship, ‘cause that’s apparently a thing Terrans do. We got presents, lots o’ sugar and sweets. Think we’ve finally settled with everything Quill insists we need.”

“You sure? He’s always been more of a last-minute kinda guy,” Kraglin chuckled. There was a soft thump that told Yondu he’d just leaned back in his chair, probably propped his boots up on the display like he always did.

“Gotta say, Quill’s been more responsible lately,” Yondu admitted. “Guess he’s learnin’ that being captain don’t mean he can just boss everyone around. But y’know, it’s weird having him tell me what to do.”

“You sayin’ you wanna come back to the Ravagers and take over for me?” Kragin joked, though something in his voice also seemed to imply that he might have been somewhat serious. It was hard to tell with the poor reception.

“Hell, maybe I can retire young. Return to the Eclector and do jack shi – um.” He eyed Groot guiltily, though the little one didn’t even seem to notice, scratching at a particularly itchy spot on his belly. “Nah, I’m okay where I am. This Guardians business, getting my criminal records wiped clean? Fresh start don’t sound like too bad an idea to me.”

“Already done with your thievin’ days, huh? Don’t let the other boys hear ya.”

“They might just kick my a – behind – if they did,” Yondu laughed. “Well, Quill’s looking out for all of us, but someone’s gotta look out for him. I know I ain’t his best friend anymore, but I still know him best.”

“Aw, come on, Yondu, you really gonna think like that?” Kraglin protested. “We ain’t kids no more. You can have more than one best friend. Me? I got two best friends. You and Pete.”

Yondu turned away from the screen for a moment so he could inhale sharply without the microphone picking it up, a lump in his throat beginning to form. These weekly talks with Kraglin were a relatively new thing, something they'd picked up ever since Kraglin first accepted the job as the new Ravager captain. It had started with Kraglin calling the Milano during his first week, desperate for advice on how to deal with the rowdy crowd he’d been left to handle. It had quickly turned into long chats about almost nothing at all, and it made Yondu feel both light on his feet and oddly morose at the same time.

Sure, life on Earth was pretty cushy compared to the life-or-death situations he’d run into as one of the youngest Ravager captains in the history of the galaxy, but there was something really captivating, exhilarating, even, about the simple days of do-or-die. He missed the days of when he, Peter, and Kraglin were growing up together on the Eclector under Stakar’s watchful eye. Peter constantly getting into trouble trying to explore the private areas of the ship, Kraglin trying his best to pretend he wasn’t terrified at the prospect of being caught, while Yondu was probably the one to perpetrate the act of poking around in the first place. Even the mundane things, like doing chores or eating breakfast together, were things he wouldn’t quite be able to do ever again.

“Cap? You there? You gone all silent.”

“I said not to call me that anymore,” Yondu said hoarsely. Groot was snuggling into his shoulder in an attempt to reassure him. “Krag?”

“Yeah?”

“You, uh...you really sure you don’t wanna join me here on Terra? It’s got decent food and mighty fine women,” he suggested slowly.

“You know me, Yondu, I don’t got the brains for school,” Kraglin replied. Yondu could almost picture the self-deprecating smile.

“You’re smart, boy, don’t say that,” Yondu protested. “Hell, I thought the same of Quill, look at ‘im now. He’s been getting pretty decent grades, making good choices. That could be you, too.”

“I ‘ppreciate it, Yondu, but I’m good where I am.”

“I guess I, uh...I just miss you, is all. Haven’t seen your ugly mug in a while.” Yondu coughed awkwardly. “Say something, Krag, don’t make this weirder than it hasta be.”

“I miss you too.” He sounded choked up. Groot patted the console like he was trying to reach through to physically comfort Kraglin. They had only met a handful of times, but Kraglin was just as fond of Groot as pretty much everyone else was. “Hey, maybe I’ll convince the guys to drop ‘round Terra sometime and come see ya. Give us a tour of the planet or somethin’.”

“It’s a damn big planet, boy, won’t be easy.” Yondu tried picturing the Ravagers roaming the streets of New York City. Somehow, he couldn’t see that ending well, though the idea of them wandering through Times Square wearing “I Heart NY” ballcaps and chowing down on hot dogs made him laugh.

“We got time.”

“Right.” Yondu sniffled again. “I don’t know if it’s all of Quill’s yammerin’ on about being sentimental this time o’ year, but I’d like to move on past this sappy crap. Did ya finally evict that idiot? What’s-his-face?”

“Oh, Taserface,” Kraglin snickered. “Yeah. Threw a huge fit, but I got everyone on my side. There was this moment where he was tryna explain his name to us, said it was metaphorical…” ______

“Do we hafta go to this shindig?” Rocket complained. “I got a new gun I wanna work on.”

“You always have a new gun you wanna work on,” Gamora snorted as she strolled out of Peter’s bedroom, barefoot, holding a pair of heeled steel-toe boots in one hand and her utility bel in the other. She was wearing a silky black jumpsuit that Mantis had insisted she wear for the occasion, and was now struggling on where to stash her weapons. “Never thought you’d be hesitant about attending a social function that involves alcohol.”

“It ain’t even gonna be that busy,” Rocket replied. “Most everyone’s gone home ‘til school starts again.”

“How ‘bout this?” Peter emerged from his room as well, looking somewhat uncomfortable in a too-tight dress shirt (though Gamora wasn’t complaining) and oxfords that pinched his toes. “We go for an hour, we mingle, dance a little bit, and then come back and go do whatever we want.”

“If we do not go at all, Janet will be quite upset,” Mantis added.

“I would prefer not to face her wrath, so I’m inclined to agree with Quill,” Drax nodded.

“Fine, but if it ain’t open bar, you’re paying for all my drinks,” Rocket said, jabbing a claw in Peter’s general direction. He shrugged in defeat before turning towards Gamora.

“Do I look okay?” he asked as the others began dispersing to grab their coats. “This is definitely too tight. But I don’t have anything else for some reason.” She smiled teasingly, stepping closer to rest her hands on his shoulders.

“Doesn’t make for a bad view,” she drawled. “And I think I’ll just take the one blade tonight.” She held up the multi-tool he’d gifted her for their fake one-month anniversary, twirling it deftly between her long fingers. “I’m not expecting anything dangerous to happen, after all. I suppose the most exciting thing that could possibly happen is if you get drunk and puke on someone’s feet. Again.”

“I’m not planning on drinking tonight, actually,” Peter said as they both sat on the couch, pulling their shoes on. “I was hoping to hang out with you after we get back. Y’know, if you want.”

“Oh?” Gamora eyed him suspiciously. “What did you have in mind?”

“A movie?” he suggested. “If it’s just you and me, maybe A Christmas Story, but if Groot wants in, definitely A Charlie Brown Christmas. He’d love it.”

“Why don’t we have Groot join us then? It’s been a while,” she said. Then she leaned in, whispering, “We can always kick him out of our bed later.”

“Our bed, huh? I like where your mind’s at,” he grinned as they got to their feet. “Everyone ready?”

The Christmas Eve party was being held in the Avengers Dorm common area, hosted by the effervescent Janet van Dyne as always. It was a reasonably large room that had been cleared of most of its furniture in favor of a DJ booth (with Vision at the helm) and a buffet table with drinks and snacks. There was, of course, an incredibly tall Christmas tree set up next to the fireplace, glittering with red and gold decorations, garland and string lights dangling from every wall and ceiling beam, and of course, mistletoe in every doorway, making every student a little twitchy.

I don’t want a lot for Christmas…there is just one thing I need…

“Of course this is the song playing right now,” Peter chuckled as they entered the room, shaking his head. “I think this just plays on loop in Janet’s head all December.”

As if she’d heard him, Janet popped up seemingly out of nowhere, decked out in a poofy red-and-green dress, complete with Santa hat and, for some reason, a red feather boa. She was nothing if not over-the-top festive. “Hey!” she squealed. “Guardians, I’m so glad you came! It wouldn’t be a party without you.”

“Yes, where’s the alcohol? I’d like to forget that I was ever here,” Nebula interjected impatiently. Gamora pinched her in retaliation.

“I’ve got Steve on alcohol bodyguard duty,” Janet replied, gesturing towards the kitchenette. Captain America was indeed standing in front of the comically small fridge, arms folded sternly as if he were protecting some sacred item of worship (though on a college campus, free alcohol was probably the next best thing). “We’ve got a lot of younglings this year, can’t take our chances. That includes you, Groot!” Groot hopped from Rocket’s shoulder to Janet’s outstretched hands, letting out a happy squeal at the sight of his friend. “I’m trying to get pictures of everybody by the tree – for next year’s yearbook, you know? – and I’m also hoping for some shots under the mistletoe. Peter, Gamora, if you would be so kind – ”

“Janet,” Gamora groaned. “You already have a good dozen photos of us, is another really necessary?”

“Another one’s not gonna kill us,” Peter whispered softly in her ear. “Remember, the real number one rule of this school – don’t piss off Janet.”

“Fine, but you better get me a spare key to the gym before school starts, I’m increasing my training time now that I’m also teaching,” Gamora said to Janet, twisting her mouth in displeasure.

“You got it!” Janet said cheerfully, tugging her by the arm towards the closest tuft of mistletoe, and subsequently dragging Peter along with them.

The rest of the Guardians exchanged dubious looks before shrugging and dispersing. With her sister gone, Nebula stalked over to the fridge, giving Cap her best stink eye. “Move.”

“You could ask nicely,” Steve suggested. “And pullin’ out a knife won’t work on me. Been there, dealt with that.”

“Listen, you star-spangled di – ”

“Nebula!” She jumped at the sound of her own name, whipping around to see Mantis standing behind her. “All you have to do is say ‘please’. You always complicate things for yourself.” Mantis stepped a little closer, smiling warmly at Steve. “Drax and Rocket have requested I get a couple beers for them, if you would please.”

“Sure.” He handed them off to her, giving Nebula a pointed look as he did so. For all his clean-cut looks, he certainly was braver than the majority of the campus population. Most people tried their best to avoid any sort of eye contact. “Nebula?”

Nebula glared at him. “I’ll have a beer as well. Please.” Mantis nodded her approval, smiling encouragingly as he passed her another cold can. “Well, this has been pointless.” With that, she turned around and stomped off as angrily as she had arrived. Steve, who had seen just about everything, only raised an eyebrow in response.

“She is a work-in-progress,” Mantis whispered conspiratorially. “Pay no mind.”

He simply chuckled in return. “Nothing I haven’t seen before. But keep up the good work, Mantis. She’ll come around someday.” As if she’d overheard, there was a loud commotion not too far away. Their heads turned to find Nebula glaring at Daisy Johnson, who was shaking quite literally. “Um, maybe you should intervene before Quake causes a, well…quake.”

Before Mantis could move, however, Gamora peeled herself away from Peter, having also overheard Nebula’s snarls. “Well, that can’t be good,” she muttered to him before practically sprinting across the room. “Hey, Nebula! Nebula!”

“What?” she snapped, rounding on her sister instantly. Daisy took the opportunity to slink off, eyeing her surroundings carefully as she ducked back into the crowd. “What do you want?”

Gamora blanched a little. “You were fine before we left, did something happen?”

“Do I really need a reason to be angry?” Nebula cracked open her beer can and took a generous gulp. It vaguely reminded Gamora of when Valkyrie was in a bad mood. Or a good mood, really.

“Yes, actually. Because you can’t just go around acting like you don’t care when clearly, something is wrong,” Gamora hissed. “You can’t fool me, Neb, and you can’t avoid me either. So you might as well confess.”

“I have nothing to confess, Gamora. You’re starting to inherit Quill’s ability to invent drama when there is none.” Another sip.

It was interrupted by Gamora promptly grabbing her by the arm and yanking her into a secluded corner, shooing away the couple that had been making out there previously. They looked ready to argue until they realized who they were confronted with, and quickly ran off without a sound. “I’m not inventing drama, I’m reading the signs. You need to stop acting like I’m the enemy, because I’m not.” She paused, thinking back on the period of their lives in which they had been nothing but enemies to each other. She shuddered at the idea of it ever happening again. “Not anymore. I’m on your side, Nebula, I always am. So if something’s bothering you, just come out and say it.”

Nebula folded her arms across her chest, sloshing her beer around a little as she did, letting out a long exhale of utter defeat. “What is it with everyone wanting to discuss my feelings lately? Does it matter?”

“Yes, because what you want and feels matters to me, and it should matter to you as well,” Gamora said pleadingly, clasping her hands over Nebula’s tightly folded ones. “Are you not tired of being mad all the time? Or wishing that the things that happened never did? I have…cried, some nights, thinking about what we’ve gone through, but I don’t want to anymore. I’m tired of being tired. And I want to be at peace with myself, with what I’ve done. It’s the only way I can carry on with my life. And I want that for you, too.”

Nebula sighed again, though she gave her the tiniest of smirks. “Relax, sister. My feelings don’t run that deep. At least, not this time around. I just…I find it interesting. How similar you and I are. But this school values you so much more than it does me. Our classmates are all convinced of your greatness as a warrior and as a friend, yet refuse to make eye contact with me when I walk by. Like there’s some great allure to your existence, while I repel people.”

“You have to admit, Nebula, you aren’t the friendliest of people,” Gamora said, relaxing. Maybe she was finally going to get somewhere with her. “And I don’t blame you. We have every right to be wary of who and what to trust. But we’ve been here long enough – maybe it’s time to decide who you think is worth your attention.”

“The only person whose opinion I value is…well.” Nebula awkwardly waved a hand in Gamora’s general direction, causing her eyes to widen in surprise. Even the implied admittance was something that truly seemed like a holiday miracle. “I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised. Terrans don’t seem all that inclined to understanding the nuance of our personal histories. There are probably some who still fear us.”

“And we should pay no matter to them,” Gamora said, reaching to grab Nebula’s free hand and squeezing tightly. “Come on, let’s go socialize for just a moment. Standing around in the corner like this won’t bode well for our reputations. Maybe you can talk to Valkyrie? If there’s one thing she likes talking about incessantly, it’s a good fight. I bet you'd like to hear about her time on Sakaar.”

And just like that, the designated hour flew by without notice, at least, until Peter approached the group of women he knew to never cross unless he wanted to die an early death (among them being Valkyrie, Elektra, Carol, and of course, Janet), gently tapping Gamora on the shoulder. “Hey, you ready to go?”

“I certainly am,” Nebula said, her voice as droll and monotonous as ever, though it lacked the usual hostility that came with it. Peter swore he could also see the beginnings of a genuine smile. Either that, or she was more inebriated than she’d like to admit.

“Wait!” Janet exclaimed. “One moment, before you leave.” Gamora and Nebula exchanged dubious looks before the other girl returned, hefting quite the number of boxes that dwarfed her relatively small frame. “If you don���t want me to buy you presents next year I’ll totally respect that, but since it’s your first winter holiday on Earth, I just had to get you all a little something.”

“Uh. Little?” Peter held out his arms so Janet could unload them, his knees buckling slightly under the sheer weight of the packages. He could never understand how such a tiny girl could be so strong, with or without her Pym particles. “Thanks, Janet, this is really awesome of you,” he said, breath coming in short. He was certainly going to have a backache by the time they returned to the ship. With a patented eye roll, Gamora grabbed a few off the top of the pile and strolled off towards the exit. “Thanks, Gamora!” he called after her retreating back. Nebula merely snorted and disappeared to go find the others.

“Happy Christmas Eve, Peter,” Janet said cheerfully. “I hope you and the Guardians had a good time tonight. Between you and me, even Nebula seems to be in the holiday spirit.”

“It’s weird, right?” Peter chuckled. “But hey, I ain’t complaining. Nothing’s better than a happy team, especially when said team members could totally decapitate me or something, I mean, you should see their weapon cache, it’s crazy – ”

“I’ll see you around, Star-Lord,” Janet laughed, interrupting him mid-ramble to pat him on the shoulder and vanish into the crowd.

Once the Guardians had returned to the Milano and went their separate ways, Peter and Gamora curled up in Peter’s bunk, Groot sprawled out across Peter’s belly, as A Charlie Brown Christmas played from the projector on his holo-tab. “So I’ve been told Nebula’s doing better with people. Marginally.”

“We had a discussion of sorts,” Gamora said with a shrug. “But then again, we seem to be having said discussion every day. If anything, she’s probably giving in just so I stop bothering her about it. It’s progress, I suppose.”

“As long as you never give up on her,” he said, rubbing her shoulders reassuringly. “But I know you won’t. You always get the job done no matter what. She’ll come around eventually.”

She smiled up at him. “I’m always astounded by the amount of faith you have in me,” she murmured softly. “I don’t think I could trust myself that much.”

“I wish you would. And you’ve never given me reason to think otherwise.” He leaned downwards to kiss her briefly. Groot let out a tiny cooing noise at the sight from his vantage point against Peter’s chest. “But also, I’ll be the first to admit I’m totally biased.”

“As long as it’s not blind faith, I’ll gladly accept it.” She grinned before settling back down against his side, turning back towards the screen. “So why was it called Peanuts, exactly?” ______

“PETER! IT IS SNOWING AGAIN! YOU SHOULD COME SEE!”

Groaning, Peter slowly lifted his head up from the pillow, blinking blearily into the darkness of his room. “Whattimeisit?”

“Early.” Gamora’s face was still half-smushed into the other pillow, her hair splayed out across the sheets and tickling his nose. Hell, if she was still sleeping, then it was most definitely too early. They often joked that her morning alarm was an attempt to beat the sunrise. “Want me to take care of it?”

“Well, it is Christmas.” He smiled sleepily at her.

Sighing, Gamora rolled over to face the general direction of the bedroom door and hollered, “GO BACK TO BED, MANTIS! IT’S TOO EARLY FOR THIS!” She turned back to snuggle into Peter’s side, draping an arm across his front. “Done.”

“GAMORA, WHAT YOU YELLIN’ FOR?”

“YEAH, WE’RE TRYNA SLEEP HERE!”

“I DO NOT APPRECIATE BEING UP THIS EARLY WHEN WE HAVE NO CLASSES OR MISSIONS TO ATTEND TO - ”

“Shit.” Peter let out a delirious laugh into the pillow as he pulled her closer. “We’re never getting back to sleep at this point.”

“Speak for yourself,” Gamora mumbled, drifting off once again.

Eventually, at a more acceptable time of morning (when it could correctly be referred to as morning, and not, as Yondu so delicately put it, “the ass-crack of dawn”), the two of them made their way into the common area, pleased to be greeted with the welcome smell of fried eggs and fresh coffee, handled by Drax and Mantis respectively. Yondu was sprawled across the entire length of the couch, twirling his arrow between his fingers, while Nebula was sitting on the floor with her back against the side of the armchair, staring off into nothing. Rocket and Groot were at the dining table, looking over the schematics of the gun Rocket had been working on last night.

“Morning,” Mantis chirped happily as if she hadn’t interrupted everyone’s sleep not four hours ago. “Coffee? Eggs? Bacon? Hashbrowns?”

“The correct answer is ‘all of the above’,” Peter replied, grabbing a plate. “Also, seriously, what was up with you this morning?”

“Sorry,” Mantis said sheepishly as she began carefully pouring out two steaming mugs of coffee. “It just looked so pretty with the sunrise coming in, I thought we might want to do those activities you spoke of before. Snow angels and snowmen, correct?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He sipped contemplatively after passing Gamora her cup. “All the snow we've been getting has been nothin' but hard ice. Maybe with today’s fresh snow, it’d finally be soft enough for us to do that stuff.” He turned to address the rest of the room. “Hey, guys, how do you feel about delaying opening our presents a little longer and heading outside instead?”

“Wasn’t looking to freeze my butt off,” Yondu said, frowning. “What you on about, Quill?”

“Well, you guys know that I wanted to go all out on Christmas traditions this year,” Peter said thoughtfully. “So maybe after breakfast, we could go play in the snow. Might be our only chance before it freezes over.”

“I am Groot?”

“Yes, and then presents, I promise,” Peter nodded, settling down at the dining table with his food. “Aw, Rocket, you’re really working on a holiday?”

“Holidays don’t mean squat to me,” Rocket shrugged. “I like workin’ on this stuff, you know that. Besides, once all this snow goes away and we can finally go on jobs and make money again, the baddies won’t know what hit ‘em. Here, take a look.”

“Save it for tomorrow, Rocket, and have some breakfast.” Gamora set a full plate down in front of Rocket with a little more vigor than necessary. “We’ll look at it, I promise. But let’s just take the day for us. We all deserve it.”

“Since when’re you the biggest cheerleader of ‘em all? You hate having no plans,” Rocket said, eyeing her suspiciously, though he did accept the fork she gave him, digging into his food happily, letting out a noise of satisfaction as he did. Drax was surprisingly adept at cooking Terran cuisine, while Peter had only just recently learned how to stop burning his grilled cheese sandwiches.

“Ever since Quill infected her.” Nebula slinked over to the kitchen, smirking. Mantis’s eyes widened a little, her cheeks burning, before she wordlessly handed her a plate. “Still, I suppose it could be worse. This campus is crawling with narcissistic optimists, so Quill is relatively mild in comparison.”

“I’ll take it,” Peter said through a mouthful of hashbrowns.

“Excuse me for wanting to believe in something for once,” Gamora said dryly. “The idea of going out in the snow sounds enjoyable enough. I thought you’d be happy I’m not insisting on doing drills or fight training today.”

“Oh, trust me, I ain’t complaining, just curious,” Rocket said, grinning at her so genuinely that she was taken aback. She finally sat down as well, on Peter’s right, smiling fondly when he reached under the table to squeeze her leg in greeting. Rocket���s face twisted once more in response. “Aw, come on, can’t you go five seconds without playing footsie?”

“I’m just saying hi,” Peter protested.

“Yeah, sure, then ‘hi’ turns into kissin’, and nobody wants to see that,” he grumbled, stabbing at his eggs. Mantis’s eyebrows shot up in concern, her antennae attuned to the downturn in everyone's mood. She smoothly slid into the seat next to Rocket, giving him a warning glance.

“Peter, Rocket and I were having a chat last night after we came back, about some of the devices he has been working on?” she said as casually as she could, hoping he couldn’t hear the nervous thump of her heartbeat as she began to lie through her teeth. “He said some of the parts he needs are likely on Halfworld. Perhaps we should prioritize a supply run once the snow has melted.”

“You sure you wanna go back to Halfworld, dude? Didn’t sound so fun when you described it to us,” Peter said curiously.

“Yeah, man, it’s no big deal. I just need a crap ton of things that I’m almost a hundred percent sure are on Halfworld. It’ll be like, three days max.” Rocket shot Mantis a grateful look when Peter turned back to his food.

“Then sure, I’ll add it to the itinerary. But hey, no more shop talk, okay? Like Gamora said, the day’s for us and nothin’ else.”

“You got it, Quill,” Yondu called from the couch. He was attempting to eat lying down, the plate balanced delicately on his stomach. “That’s practically my life’s motto.”

After breakfast was over, the Guardians bundled up as best they could, including Groot, who had received a custom-made coat and wool hat from Janet about a month ago, making him somewhat resemble a jumbo-sized marshmallow. They carefully made their way off the ship, wincing a little at the amount of snow that had already settled over the Milano and was sure to freeze over later. Still, they soldiered on down the loading bay and out onto the open field nearby, the satisfying crunch of their boots filling up the silence of the relatively empty campus.

Giddy, Mantis immediately began twirling about, sticking out her tongue to catch the flakes as they fell. Peter jogged over to join her, grabbing her hands and spinning her around in an improvised swing dance. “It’s so pretty,” Mantis giggled as they came to a stop. “I did not know it could be so soft!”

“All the snow we’ve been getting so far has been pretty unforgiving until now.” Peter bent to begin clearing out a small area for them to work in. “So, let’s do it, guys! Snowmen! Er, snowpeople. And snow raccoons. And…snow…trees.”

“And how do we make these ‘snowpeople’ you speak of?” Drax asked.

“You just use the snow, dude! You can make it as fancy as you want, or you can just roll up a bunch of huge snowballs, stack ‘em, add a couple sticks for arms, and call it a day,” Peter shrugged. “Watch.”

The others stepped back as Peter rolled out an enormously dense ball of snow, humming along with the music quietly streaming out of his headphones. He pushed it perfectly into place over the area he had cleared and proceeded to stack two more on top. Peter sang under his breath as he used a small branch to carve out the details, starting with the seams of his favorite jacket and pair of jeans. Already, its resemblance was obvious, even without a face.

“Interesting,” Gamora commented, cocking her head sideways to better observe Peter’s handiwork. “Alright, I’m in. Guardians?”

“Sure, as long as Quill shares his music. All the crunchin’ noises the snow's making is gonna give me a headache,” Rocket complained.

“Gladly,” Peter grinned, setting the Walkman down on the nearby bench and cranking up the volume.

Imagine me and you, I do...I think about you day and night, it's only right….to think about the girl you love and hold her tight...so happy together…

For the next hour, the Guardians proceeded to make snowpeople of their own, occasionally running off in search of things like pebbles and branches to complete their work. Even Groot got in on the action, setting up a tiny snow-Groot of his own next to Rocket’s creation, which ended up being the same height as him. “I am Groot?” he asked Rocket.

“No, no, don’t grow out your fingers and break ‘em off for arms, that’s a terrible idea," Rocket scolded. “Just grab some twigs from that tree over there like the rest of us."

If I should call you up, invest a dime...and you say you belong to me and ease my mind...imagine how the world could be, so very fine...so happy together…

“Mantis, you seem to have quite the artistic touch,” Drax said, not even bothering to hide his surprise as he observed Mantis carving out a near-perfect recreation of her own facial features. “It looks almost exactly like you.”

“Disgusting?” she teased, flicking some snow in his direction. Drax frowned, scooping up a little bit of snow himself and flinging it at her in return. Squealing, Mantis ducked behind her snowperson before pelting another snowball back. “Drax!”

Before the others could blink, Mantis and Drax had suddenly found themselves in an all-out snowball fight, sprinting around the snowpeople and nearly tripping over themselves in an attempt to run and scoop up snow from beneath their feet at the same time. Rocket immediately ducked to grab Groot before he could get trampled on, while Nebula rolled her eyes and continued on with perfecting the frown on her snowperson’s face with pebbles. She was never going to admit how long she had spent searching for the best ones.

“Wait, guys - ” Peter proceeded to join in, laughing wildly as Mantis tackled him to the ground a mere thirty seconds later. “G’mora - Yondu - Rocket - guys, join us - ”

“Ple-e-e-ease,” Mantis begged, getting up off of Peter and tugging on Gamora’s sleeve. Sighing, Gamora gave in, scooping up a snowball of her own and smushing it right onto Peter’s face. “Yay!”

“Mercy, mercy,” Peter spluttered through a faceful of ice. He could already feel his eyelashes freezing over. “Can we partner up instead of having a free-for-all so we don’t end up killing each other? Gamora, you wanna be on my team?”

“Always,” Gamora smirked, holding out a hand so she could hoist Peter to his feet. With that, everyone proceeded to break off into pairs - Drax and Mantis, Yondu and Nebula, who somehow agreed to work together by process of elimination, and even Groot got in on the fun once Rocket told him he was in charge of making snowballs (“And nothin’ else, I don’t need you getting hit in the face today!”).

Peter and Gamora took off first, ducking behind a particularly large oak tree, while the others spread out across the field. “So, what’s our plan of attack?” Peter said breathlessly, peering out from around its stump. Nebula was currently hanging off of Drax’s back, her arms wrapped around his neck as Drax spun around in an attempt to shake her off like a dog, while Yondu was pelting him repeatedly in the chest. Groot was running for cover behind his little snow-Groot.

“Depends on whether we want to ambush everyone at once, or pick them off team by team,” Gamora replied, beginning to vigorously pack a stack of snowballs. “I’m faster, but you have better aim.”

“If we take ‘em out one-by-one, that’ll give the others time to find our hiding spot. You throw, I’ll make,” Peter decided, grinning stupidly. He had never felt like such a little kid all over again until now, overeager and easily excitable. Being surrounded by the people he loved most in the galaxy only made it more exhilarating.

He quickly began scooping and shaping, while Gamora watched the chaos developing further out on in the open, seemingly unaware that she and Peter had disappeared. There was something comforting, almost, watching the Guardians attack each other with harmless snowballs instead of cutting each other with words, something they did far too often. She was guilty of it herself, verbally picking and scratching at everyone else’s problems and insecurities as a way to ensure their compliance (or occasionally, silence). But now, all she saw was her friends whooping and laughing enthusiastically as snow and ice flew about everywhere. Even Nebula seemed to be enjoying herself, though she wasn’t quite as vocal as the others, smirking as she rained absolute hell on Rocket, who didn’t seem to mind for once, returning fire with a giant grin on his face.

“Ready,” Peter said triumphantly, presenting her with what had to be at least fifty little spheres of neatly packed ice. Gamora folded herself into sniper’s position, lying on her belly while propped up on her elbows. She eyed the others speculatively, before picking up the first snowball and flinging it with all her might.

“Ow!” Drax roared, whipping about, trying to figure out who had just hit him square in the eye. He had no time to go looking, however, as the next snowball had landed in his mouth. Yondu barely had five seconds to burst into laughter before three snowballs landed neatly on his fin, causing him to yelp like a small child in surprise.

Within thirty seconds, Gamora managed to obliterate the others, now all collapsed on the ground in a panting heap. Even Groot looked tired, and he hadn’t even been involved in the fight. Smirking, Gamora turned back over to lean onto the tree trunk to look at a slack-jawed Peter. “How did I do?”

“Freaking amazing, that’s how,” Peter said, crawling towards her and wrapping his arms tight around her midsection. “We make an awesome team, don’t we?”

“Always,” Gamora repeated, allowing him to pull her back down into the snow as he kissed her enthusiastically, yelping a little when the sides of their faces ended up hitting the snow. Peter’s already-rosy cheeks were getting increasingly pink, the tip of his nose reddening as well. Gamora began rubbing his face with her gloved hands to warm him up, chuckling softly as he began nuzzling into her neck like a cat. “You’re such a child, Peter Quill. But I can’t say I mind all that much.”

“Because you love me,” he sing-songed, tilting his head up to meet her eyes. They were glittering with pure, unadulterated joy.

“Somehow, yes, you ridiculous child.” She leaned in, kissing him again. “Are you done demanding that I vocalize my affection now, or do you need more praise before I get to properly warm you up?” In lieu of a response, Peter pulled her in even closer, deepening the kiss.

I can't see me lovin' nobody but you...for all my life…when you're with me, baby the skies'll be blue...for all my life…

“Aw, gross. Shoulda known it was you that got us all,” Yondu chortled. Reluctantly, Peter and Gamora turned to look up at their friends who had surrounded them in a circle, slightly disgruntled, flushed, and covered in slush, but mostly glowing with happiness. “Well, if we can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.”

“What’s that s’posed to - ah!” Peter yelped as the others proceeded to throw themselves down on top of him and Gamora, resulting in Nebula’s sharp elbow in his gut and Drax’s knee landing on his crotch. Groot let out a happy cheer as he nested himself in Gamora’s scarf, cooing happily, while Mantis was sprawled out at the top of the pile, her giggling becoming increasingly delirious. “Dra-a-ax, you’re heavy as hell.”

“Mantis suggested group hugs would contribute to team morale. Do not single me out for my enormous muscle mass. I will not be shamed for my body, which is in impeccable condition,” Drax frowned.

“I just like hugs,” Mantis hummed happily, kicking her feet in the air.

“I am Groot,” Groot agreed.

“Fine, but we’re only staying here for two minutes, or else we’re going to freeze up and die. Then we’ll all be snowpeople,” Gamora said sternly, though she softened a little when Peter moved to kiss her again. His lips were ice cold, but she felt no need to stop him, as unappealing as it seemed.

Rocket made another gagging noise before turning back towards the field. “Uh, guys...about the snowpeople…”

Everyone turned their heads in the direction Rocket was looking, only to realize that their creations had been the real casualty of their battle. They were covered in boot marks and imprints of the bodies that had fallen on them, utterly crushed to bits, splintered pieces of “arms” and scattered pebbles lying at their bases as if to signify the fallen soldier of their respective owners.

“Oh well,” Peter shrugged. “There’s always next time.”

So happy together...how is the weather...so happy together...we're happy together…

Once everyone had retreated back to the safety and (relative) warmth of the Milano, Gamora and Mantis began grabbing towels and extra blankets from the supply closet, with Gamora insisting everyone dry off and change before finally getting around to opening presents. Drax began making hot chocolate on the stove, while Peter pulled up the holo-screen and started playing Frosty the Snowman to keep Groot occupied while they waited.

“Peter? Why are there so many presents under here?” Gamora began poking around at the pile of boxes underneath the tree. She wasn’t sure when they had amassed to such an amount, but it had become something of a small mountain. “I know those are Janet’s back here…some from Stark…these are the ones for me from Natasha and Elektra and Val…but what’s all this?”

Peter turned away from the screen to join her by the tree, smiling at the sight of the hand-written ornaments they’d worked on not too long ago. His favorite was the one where Mantis had written “MY NEW FAMILY” in large, looping letters, surrounded by little hearts. “My current theory? Everyone kinda ignored Secret Santa and just got everyone else presents, too. I mean, that’s what I did.”

“As did I,” Gamora confessed. She couldn’t help it – shopping for her Secret Santa had only led to her seeing at least half a dozen things she wanted to buy for everyone else. “But doesn’t that ruin the intention of giving gifts to only one person?”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” he said with a shrug. “Tradition’s tradition, but doesn’t mean we gotta stick to it, word-for-word. And hey, more presents for everyone. Can’t complain about that.”

“No, I suppose not,” Gamora replied, smiling. She turned to address the rest of the room. “Is everyone ready? Drax?”

He briskly strolled into the living room with a tray of steaming mugs of hot chocolate, wearing the gag apron Peter had gotten him for his birthday (it proclaimed in bright red letters across the chest: “kiss the chef”). “Yes, let us proceed,” Drax said proudly as he began distributing marshmallows into the drinks. Peter made a grab for the “World’s Best Dad” cup and passed Gamora the one that said “I Hate Mugs with Funny Slogans” (she really, really did). “Who will go first?”

“I think Peter should. After all, he is the one who encouraged all of these festivities,” Mantis suggested.

“I can get on board with that,” Gamora said as she settled onto the couch. “Besides, he’ll go crazy in anticipation otherwise. So, who was responsible for his gift?”

“Me,” Rocket said, raising a paw. “It don’t look like much until I explain it to you.” He passed Peter one of the tiniest boxes, a small rectangle the size of a paperback, wrapped in butcher’s paper and tied off with what was clearly some spare string he had lying around.

Peter ripped it open, curious about what Rocket meant, and opened the unassuming box inside. There, nestled in old newspaper, was an electronic device of some sort, vaguely resembling a remote. “Okay, I give. I can’t tell what it is. What’s it do?”

“I rewired a good chunk of the ship, including your precious tape deck,” Rocket explained, grinning so widely he was baring his canines. “That right there is a universal remote for the Milano. You wanna turn off the lights without walking around the whole ship? Pull down the holo-screen without getting up from the couch? Change the song playing on the tape? It’ll do it all. Genius, right?”

“Quill with remote access to the entire ship? Hoo boy,” Yondu winced.

“Rocket, I…thanks, dude!” Peter exclaimed, moving across the floor to pull Rocket into a giant hug. “This is awesome, man.” Rocket’s ears flattened at the sudden physical contact, before wrapping his arms around Peter’s neck as well, patting him awkwardly on the back. “I’m gonna use the crap outta this, trust me.”

“I’m already anticipating disaster. I’ll be sure to confiscate it if it becomes chaos,” Gamora muttered to Drax, who nodded sagely in agreement.

“I guess Rocket should be next then,” Peter said, sitting back down. “Who got Rocket’s present?”

“That would be me,” Gamora said. “Though I didn’t put it under the tree since it looks somewhat underwhelming. I promise it’s valuable, though.” She grabbed a small manila envelope from under the armchair and presented it to Rocket. “Go on, open it.”

Rocket eyed it doubtfully before breaking the seal on the envelope. Five small slips of paper fell into his lap, plain white paper with no special markings of any kind. The only thing on them, in Gamora’s neat handwriting, was the following:

GET-OUT-OF-MEETING-FREE CARD - ADMIT ONE

(Note: This does not apply to meetings pertaining to galaxy-wide emergencies. You don’t get to opt out of Thanos-level disasters, Rocket.)

“Considering you complain the loudest about my efforts to get everyone involved more than the others, I figured it would be a blessing for you to walk away without my interference,” Gamora added with a small chuckle. “I promise to say nothing more than ‘you’re dismissed’.”

“Gotta say, I was kinda skeptical at first, but I love it,” Rocket said happily, holding them up in triumph. “Thanks, Gam. You ain’t gonna see me at the next five monthly budget review meetings, that’s for sure.”

“I figured,” she laughed. “Just sign off on the ammo you need us to get and you’re in the clear.”

“I was responsible for your present, Gamora!” Mantis said excitedly, grabbing a lime green box with a matching ribbon bow on top. “I am hoping it will be of use to you.”

“I’m sure it will be,” Gamora said reassuringly. Unlike Peter and Rocket, she took care in peeling back the tape and untying the ribbon, neatly unfolding the wrappings to the point where Rocket was beginning to grow impatient again. “Oh, wow.”

Inside the box was what at first appeared to be just a small cube of soft black leather, no bigger than Gamora’s fist. However, once she picked it up, she realized it was tucked into itself at the corners. She began unfolding it, picking at the small strings and loops that held it together. When it was completely untangled from its own self, it was then that she recognized what it was – a brand new utility belt, complete with tiny pockets and a holster for her sword. Stitched on the inside of the front waistband was Gamora’s name in green thread that was a near-perfect match for her skin.

“What do you think?” Mantis asked nervously. “Since you are teaching fight classes in the new semester, I thought you might need a less bulky belt that would still allow you to store everything you would need, and something softer that would not weigh you down. Also, I hand-made it myself. I have been getting Janet to teach me how to sew for the past month.”

“Mantis, this is amazing,” Gamora said in a near-whisper, holding it up as if it were something precious – and to her, it was. “How did you figure out the loop-and-tie mechanism? It seems both intricate and effective.”

Mantis beamed, pleased. “It wasn’t easy,” she admitted. “But I’m so glad you like it.”

“Like it? I love it,” Gamora declared. “Thank you Mantis, it’s perfect.” She wrapped her arms around the younger girl, smiling when she felt Mantis let out a sigh of relief against her shoulder.

“And this is for you, bug-girl,” Yondu said with an unusual amount of fondness, handing her what appeared to be an old shoebox. Confused, Mantis accepted it, taking the lid off and setting it aside before gasping at the sight of its contents. “I sure hope that’s a good noise ya just made there.”

The shoebox contained stacks upon stacks of pictures, postcards, news clippings, and the like, from planets and star systems across the galaxy, places Mantis had only dreamed of seeing when she was a child. It was no secret that one of the biggest reasons she had joined the Guardians was to finally experience life outside of Ego’s planet, to meet new people, see new places, experience everything she had never gotten a chance to before. Of course, there were many planets they knew she would be unlikely to see, places where the Guardians would never be welcomed, but this was a good start.

“A little piece of most of the places us Ravagers have been. I even called up a few favors from the other factions, see what kinda trinkets they been collecting themselves,” Yondu smiled. “I know you got a lot of spirit in you, girl, you wanna see the world because you don’t know how crazy it can be quite as much as we do. But maybe this’ll give you an idea of what’s out there, the kinda fun you might get to have one day. Just ask Quill to take you there, he’s been to a bunch o’ those places. Have a good time.” Mantis sniffled as she began flipping through the documents, sighing happily at each new image. “Oh, no, you ain’t about to cry, are ya?”

“No,” she whimpered. Another strong inhale, this time rattling from her chest. “I still have some flu symptoms left.” Her bottom lip began to wobble. “But also, this is very kind of you. Thank you, Yondu!” Unable to contain her happiness no longer, she flung herself into Yondu’s arms, squeezing him so tightly he let out a rather undignified squeaking noise, unlike anything he’d ever made before.

“You got an iron grip, bug-girl, leggo,” he wheezed. She peeled away, giggling softly in apology before setting the box aside. “Alright, who was the unlucky fool who got stuck with me?”

“My present does not have a physical form,” Drax said, bowing his head. “So you will have to take my word for it, Yondu. But I noticed you have been quite glum lately, and were missing the company of your Ravagers. Groot told me after your last call to Kraglin that you were hoping to see them again soon. So, I made another call to Kraglin, and arranged for the Eclector to make a stop by Earth next week. I also got Director Fury’s permission. He will clear out space in the loading bay for them to land an M-ship and join us, along with excusing you from all your classes so you can take them around and show them your new home.”

Yondu blinked, at a loss for words. “R – really?” he stammered. Peter grinned – he’d never seen Yondu so flabbergasted before. “Boy, that’s…that’s mighty kind of you. You ain’t joking?”

“I would never joke about something so important to you,” Drax frowned. “I am not a cruel person.”

“No, you definitely ain’t,” Yondu agreed, clapping Drax on the back. “Thanks, Drax. Hey, maybe you could join us! I been telling the Ravagers a bunch of stories about good ol’ Drax the Destroyer. They’d be interested in meetin’ you.”

“I would be honored,” Drax replied, pleased, patting Yondu on the shoulder in return. He winced a little at the force of the impact.

“Is it finally my turn?” Nebula groaned. “I have been waiting for so long.”

“Nebula,” Gamora warned.

Ignoring her, Nebula pulled out a hastily-wrapped box from under the tree and shoved it into Drax’s arms. Without a word, she turned away from him, apparently in no rush to explain her present the way everyone else had done so far. Somewhat confused, he shrugged and tore open the packaging to find a set of wooden carvings that were hollowed out inside, complete with a sort of intricate scroll-like design around its opening. He turned them over, perplexed, and startling at the sight of a name engraved on the underside – Hovat. “What…what is this?”

Rolling her eyes, Nebula stalked over to him, yanked out one of his blades from his boot, grabbed one of the wooden pieces, and slid it perfectly onto its hilt. “Sturdier handles, you idiot. Hearing you complain about knuckle cramps day in, day out, because you don’t realize your knife handles aren’t perfectly balanced, is painfully annoying. I needed to put an end to it.”

“And Hovat’s name?”

“The engraving came free if you buy a set of two or more,” Nebula snapped. Peter was trying his hardest not to laugh – this was possibly the most aggressive act of gift-giving he had ever witnessed. “So? Do you like it or not?”

“It was very thoughtful of you, Nebula, thank you,” Drax said gently, a tearful smile beginning to form on his face. “I do like the idea of keeping my Hovat close by.” There was an awkward pause in which he considered whether to hug her or not, but then rightfully decided to avoid potentially losing his fingers in the process.

“Last but not least – drum roll, if you please – ” Mantis began enthusiastically drumming her hands on her legs “ – for you, Nebula.” Peter pulled out a key from his back pocket with a flourish and held it out to her.

“What the hell is this?” She snatched it up immediately, holding it to the light, expecting it to reveal further secrets.

“I know that all of us, me and Gamora especially, always bother you about being part of a team, part of a family, that kinda stuff. And you like being alone, which is totally fine. But the problem for you right now is, we know all your hiding spots, and we’re kinda guilty of tracking you down all the time. So, if you need somewhere to go where none of us can interfere, that key opens to the rooftop of the main library building. It’s in the middle of the campus so you can do all your weird people-watching, literally no one else has that key – not even Fury or any of the janitors – and I got it cleaned out. There was like, bird crap and tons of leaves up there. Anyways, that spot? It’s yours, and yours alone.”

“And you discussed this with her beforehand?” Nebula eyed Gamora suspiciously.

“No, actually, he didn’t. But I think it’s a good idea,” Gamora said softly. “We mean well, Nebula, but I know you like your solitude. I know I sometimes need a break from everyone, too. If it helps you deal with whatever’s going on in your head, take that key and put it to good use. But know that you can talk to us as well.”

Nebula swallowed. “Right. Uh, thanks, I guess.” She gave Peter the briefest of smiles, one that made him question if he had just briefly hallucinated. “I think I’ll be using this to get out of budget meetings as well.”

“I am Groot?” Groot looked up imploringly at the rest of the group, wondering what his present was going to be. Since Groot was the only one who couldn’t make money or really go shopping in the first place, he had been taken out of the running for Secret Santa, but he knew that the other Guardians had worked together to get him something, too.

“Well, Groot, y’know that room we have set aside for you when you’re more…humie-sized?” Rocket began, scooping him up. All the Guardians stood and walked down the corridor towards the bedrooms, where Peter unlocked said room and swung the door open wide for Groot to see. “We thought it was kinda stupid we haven’t been using this room for anything. Well, up until now. We got Stark to build you a little jungle gym in the meantime. Turns out he’s good for something after all.”

“It’s kinda based off of, like, hamster playsets. We’ve got tunnels going up to the ceiling, ladders, monkey bars, the whole nine yards,” Peter said proudly. Rocket set Groot down inside the room, watching as the little one stepped cautiously, his already-large eyes as wide as dinner plates.

“I am…Groot,” he breathed.

When Peter had first gone to Tony, requesting the jungle gym, he had stressed the importance of it not looking like Stark’s usual gadgets and gizmos – modern, metal, sleek and shiny – but rather like it had been built by bare hands and a bench, consisting mostly of carved wood. The bases were painted to look like tree stumps, the bridges and ladders consisted of wooden slats tied together with old rope, and the decorative pieces looked like winding spirals of vines and branches, like the kind that sprouted from Groot himself.

With an excitable shriek, Groot immediately began climbing up one of the ladders to the very top, peering down at them from the rope bridge. He waved at them eagerly before running around and around in circles, swinging across the monkey bars with ease. Mantis began filming him on her phone, cooing at the adorableness of it all.

“I am Groot,” he said happily, beaming.

“You’re welcome, man,” Rocket said, grinning back. “Now c’mon, the rest of us still got presents to open.”

The rest of the present opening was less of a dramatic affair, with everyone passing around wrapped packages in varying states of neatness while they sipped hot chocolate. Peter had turned on the radio for once instead of using his Walkman, letting the dulcet tones of Bing Crosby fill the room.

“Should’ve known this wasn’t going to go perfectly,” Gamora sighed as she crossed the room to settle into Peter’s side, watching as Nebula began presenting everybody else with garishly ugly socks. “She can’t help herself, can she? Regardless, I’d say it’s much better than last year. I was still finding bits of plasma in my hair a week after we returned from jail.”

“That was possibly the grossest mission we’ve ever been on,” Peter agreed. “So, I did end up getting you a present, by the way.”

“You buy me random trinkets so often I have nowhere to put them,” she teased, squeezing his waist affectionately. “What is it?”

“Well, you’ve been showing more interest in Terran culture lately, but you’ve only been seeing it from my perspective,” Peter explained. “And, y’know, as much as I like to pretend I know what’s going on, I know I’ve got a limited understanding of Earth. So I thought you would like to see it from a point of view that you’d identify with more.” He handed her a hardcover book – no wrappings or other fancies – watching her face nervously as she examined it.

“Bad Girls Throughout History - One Hundred Remarkable Women Who Changed The World,” she read slowly, eyes drinking in the hand-drawn illustrations. She fell silent as she read the description and flipped through it, her smile becoming softer with every page. “I guess this school doesn’t really delve too deeply into history outside of your world wars, does it?”

“And I figured if you wanted to learn more, badass Terran women would be a good place for you to start. I also got you a hundred dollars worth of store credit at that used bookstore in the city that you really like,” he added. “Do you like it?”

“I do, I really do,” she said, grinning as she kissed him. “Thank you, Peter. I’ll start reading it tonight. Oh, and I got you something as well.”

“What? Really?” He watched as she walked over to the tree and plucked out yet another tiny box, kneeling in front of him. “You didn’t have to, you know.”

“Did you really think I was going to get gifts for everyone else and not you?” she teased. “It barely cost me any units, so don’t worry. And I like taking part in your traditions, Peter, they intrigue me. So go on, open it.” He rubbed his hands together in excitement before removing the wrappings and the lid to unveil what was inside, eyes widening in shock when he realized what it was.

Nestled among neatly crinkled decorative tissue paper was a cassette tape, marked “For Peter”.

“Granted, we don’t share the same taste in music,” she continued. “Your music has grown on me substantially, however, so I compiled some of your favorites and some new things that should be to your liking.” Almost immediately, he pulled Gamora closer until she was practically straddling him, wrapping her tightly in his arms, burying his face in her neck. It had become his favorite place to be. She let out a surprised cry before returning the gesture with a soft laugh. “You haven’t listened to it yet, Peter, it could be awful.”

“You have no idea how much this means to me,” Peter murmured, kissing the crook of her jaw.

“I have an inkling.” She leaned back so she could gently slide the Walkman off his belt. “Here, give it a go.”

With slightly trembling fingers, Peter popped out the tape inside and slid the new one in, closing it with a satisfying snap. He slotted the headphones snugly over his ears before turning one side outwards so Gamora could hear what he was listening to. He took a soft breath for pause in anticipation, before pressing play.

Oh, I could hide 'neath the wings...of the bluebird as she sings...the six-o'clock alarm would never ring...but six rings and I rise...wipe the sleep out of my eyes...the shaving razor's cold and it stings…

Humming softly with the melody, Peter began drumming out the beat on the small of Gamora’s back with the pads of his fingers once the chorus began, apparently having no intentions of letting her go. She was fine with that – she’d gotten rather comfortable here, though she had a feeling the moment the other Guardian stopped arguing with each other over Nebula’s godforsaken socks, they would spot them and tease them once again.

Now you know how happy I can be...oh, and our good time starts and ends...without all I want to spend...but how much, baby, do we really need?...

“Not much, really,” he said quietly in response, grinning almost shyly. “I think I’ve got all I need right here on this ship.”

“Ever the romantic,” she said fondly, cupping his jaw and leaning in. “Happy holidays, Peter Quill.”

Cheer up sleepy Jean...oh, what can it mean...to a daydream believer and a homecoming queen?... ______

“Is there a reason we’re out here freezin’ our asses off? You tryna prank us, boy?” Yondu said through chattering teeth. He and Drax were having a rare moment of solidarity, huddled together underneath one of Yondu’s ostentatiously enormous fur-lined coats.

“It’s not my fault you didn’t wear enough. I told you where we were going,” Peter protested, though mostly because he didn’t want to give them the satisfaction that he, too, was beginning to lose feeling in his fingers and toes. Gamora, who wasn’t about to let Peter freeze to death or, more importantly, start yet another dick-measuring contest, practically shoved herself into his side, hoping her higher body temperature would warm him up before he started making excuses.

“That don’t explain things,” Rocket snapped. “What’re we doing, Quill? This can’t be another one of your holiday traditions, holiday’s over.”

“Uh, not quite,” Peter said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Tomorrow’s New Year’s Eve, when everyone makes these big declarations of how they’re gonna change in the new year. And I know Gamora likes it when we set goals and talk about what we wanna do about our future, so I thought we’d just, like, do it together. Talk about what we wanna do.”

“But did we have to do it on the roof?” Nebula exclaimed, kicking some fresh snow to punctuate her point, sending a gentle spray of ice flying over everyone’s laps.

The Guardians were indeed on the roof of the Avengers Hall, where they hadn’t been since Halloween night. It wasn’t snowing nearly as hard as it had been for most of the month, having slowed to a near stop, but it was still below freezing, leaving everyone a little cranky and worse for the wear.

As predicted, Christmas hadn’t magically solved all of the squabbles and fights they’d been having. Nebula and Rocket got into yet another spat over nothing, Groot had a tantrum when he accidentally broke one of the swings on his new gym set, and Drax became boorish, confronted with his memories of Hovat once more. Yondu was secretly too excited to see his boys again to really let anything bother him, and he stayed clear of everyone else’s paths. Peter and Gamora were still in relative romantic bliss (Peter insisted they were going to be in the so-called ‘honeymoon stage’ forever), aside from the time she had tripped over the jacket he had left on their bedroom floor and nearly banged her head on the corner of his desk. Still, they were a little less high-strung and snappish than usual, mellowed out for the most part (Gamora blamed it on the spiked eggnog. She wasn’t sure who to blame it on, but it certainly made Rocket and Yondu more agreeable than usual). Peter considered it to be a welcome change, even though he knew it was going to be temporary. The next major fight, a particularly stressful job or mission, was most definitely going to restore the Guardians’ status quo.

“Well, excuse me for wanting to have a nice moment,” Peter complained.

“I think it is a good idea,” Mantis piped up. “I have always said it is good for us to discuss these things together.”

“Thank you, Mantis,” Peter said triumphantly, as if her word declared the consensus of the entire group. “First on the agenda – I know these were supposed to be here earlier, but with Surtur tryna cause Ragnarok, and Hela coming after Thor here on Earth, Fury’s had his hands full. But better late than never.” He produced two envelopes from his knapsack and held them out to Yondu and Nebula. “Welcome to the Guardians of the Galaxy. I dunno why there needs to be paperwork, but, uh, just go with it.”

“I’ll be,” Yondu said cheerily, ripping it open and grinning in ecstasy at the official declaration. “Never thought it’d be the kinda gig I’d be offered, what with my reputation, but I ain’t complaining if it gets me units and fame.”

“C’mon, Yondu, we know that’s not all you’re about,” Peter chuckled, patting him on the back. “But congrats, dude. I’m proud of you.”

Nebula, however, was still staring at the envelope in her hands as if she were expecting it to spontaneously burst into flames. Gamora watched her cautiously for a moment before pulling away from Peter’s embrace to gently grasp her arm. “Nebula…I know I’ve been pressuring you a lot lately about being part of this team. But that choice is yours to make. If you prefer to just remain a student and not accompany us as a Guardian, I understand. It doesn’t mean we’ll kick you out or abandon you.”

“How did you accept it so easily?” Nebula’s voice was so quiet, only Gamora could hear. “Pretending to be a saint, and forgetting you were ever a sinner?”

“You sound like you’ve been talking to Murdock too often,” Gamora commented with a shake of her head. “I haven’t forgotten what I’ve done, Nebula. But I just want to move past it, and this is how I do it. Every planet that I help, every life that I save – and maybe this sounds selfish – it makes me feel better. It restores my faith in myself, and that’s where I need to start. I no longer feel the need to answer for what I did when I served Thanos, because this right here? This is my answer. My new purpose. And maybe it’s yours as well. But it doesn’t have to be.”

“Well, not that legality has ever stopped me before, but I suppose having it can’t hurt.” Nebula gave her a tentative smile before tearing the envelope open, staring at the neatly-typed print of her name at the very top, scanning over the brief paragraph that congratulated her on her official Guardian membership. “Quill, this doesn’t mean it gives you the right to tell me what to do.”

“Actually, that’s kind of exactly what it means,” Peter shot back. “Whether you listen is a different story.”

Nebula blanched at his response before smirking, somewhat impressed. “He bites back,” she snorted. “Maybe my sister didn’t choose so poorly after all. Alright then, Quill. How does this ‘resolution’ thing work?”

“Well, I was thinking we could each set one personal goal and one goal for the group,” Peter suggested. “Here, we’ll write it out.” He pulled out his holo-tab and opened a blank note, its large projector screen hovering in front of everyone’s faces. “Who wants to start?”

“Me,” Mantis said, waving a hand in the air enthusiastically like a schoolchild. “I do like helping you all with your feelings. I believe it is one of my greatest purposes here. But I have spent so much time assisting you, that I have not taken the time to understand myself. So I would like to spend more time focusing on who I am and who I want to be. Does that make sense?” She looked around at them, her eyes darting from person to person nervously. Drax patted her in reassurance, smiling encouragingly. “Um, and I think one thing we could do as a group is confront our problems right away. Many of the fights we have had are simply because of miscommunication. If we clarify our issues early on, then maybe they will not happen as often.”

“That’s a great idea, Mantis,” Gamora praised. “Granted, I don’t know if it’ll work, but there’s no harm in trying.”

“Is that you volunteering to go next?” Peter said with a quirk of his eyebrows as he finished typing Mantis’s suggestion.

“Fine,” Gamora said, though not before fixing him with a glare. “I want to have a more active role in this school’s community. I spent far too long in the first year of us being here wallowing in self-doubt, assuming everyone despised me. In reality, this planet has very little idea of my past. I don’t want to miss the opportunity for more allies in our eventual fight against Thanos, so maybe I need to take advantage of that. Besides, having friends doesn’t seem so bad after all,” she added with a chuckle. “As for the team…I’ve been saying for a while now, if we all just have stronger focus, stronger discipline, we won’t have as many issues. I wouldn’t lecture you all nearly as much as I do if you paid more attention. Look at Peter, for example. His productivity is much improved.”

“That’s probably ‘cause you got him wrapped around your finger, but okay,” Rocket snorted. “Alright, I’ll go next. I was thinkin’ about other ways to make some quick cash, make myself useful while we’re here, so I think I wanna offer up my services as an engineer. Teach other people how to fix their crap. Plus, that money’ll strictly be mine and I won’t have to share with you losers. And, it’ll piss off Stark. As for all of us…I dunno, if you guys can learn more about how to do quick fixes on the ship, that’d save me a lot of time. I can teach ya.” His eyes suddenly widened. “Wait, can I charge you guys for engineering tutorials?”

“No, Rocket,” Gamora said sternly. He muttered a couple choice nonsensical words under his breath in response, though nothing distinctive enough for her enhanced hearing to catch.

“Like Gamora, I like the idea of having more companionship in my life,” Drax said thoughtfully. He was twirling one of his blades absentmindedly, watching as Hovat’s engraved name spun over and over as he did. He knew he would never find one quite like her, but he didn’t have to. He didn’t want a replacement Hovat. Romantic pursuits were about the last thing on his mind, at least for now. “Perhaps I will reach out to the other warriors on campus, see if we are as like-minded as I hoped. Thor, Korg, Hulk…”

“You can all bond over having four-letter mononymous names,” Peter suggested. Gamora prodded him in warning. “Ow. I’m just saying.”

“In regards to the team…I must admit, I don’t spend as much time with you all as I would like,” Drax continued, ignoring Peter’s quip. “I think these traditions of yours, Quill…while they might seem strange to us, I suppose much of our culture also seems foreign to you. Such as my father’s story of impregnating my mother.” The others winced – it was frankly foreign to everyone. “But they also made me appreciate everyone more, not just as people to fight with, but as my family. I think we should engage in more non-combative activities to strengthen our bond.”

“It’ll be difficult with school and missions and the other craziness we’ve got going on, but I like where your mind’s at,” Peter replied, pleased.

“My mind is right where it has always been,” Drax said firmly.

“Right, my turn,” Yondu interrupted. “I aim to do better at school. I like the idea of getting my criminal record wiped clean, and that won’t happen if I keep skippin’ classes and filling out them Scantrons with nothin’ but A’s.”

“And answering every question that begins with ‘can you explain’ with ‘no’,” Gamora added.

“And nappin’ under the desk in the engineering labs,” Rocket continued.

“And writing my name on all of your essays!” Peter exclaimed. “Dude, I almost failed Criminology because of you. I’m not even taking Criminology!”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard ya,” Yondu grumbled. “Like I was sayin’ – I’ll try harder next semester. And I honestly got nothing for the rest of us to do, because you’ve all suggested just about everything already. I like Drax’s suggestion of more fun, though. That’s all I want outta life.”

“Fair enough,” Gamora nodded. “Nebula? Thoughts?”

“Well, you all appear to be on a self-improvement kick. How predictable,” Nebula snarked, turning around so her back was against the railing, arms folded firmly over her chest. Sitting on the snow-covered ground was starting to leave unflattering wet spots on everyone’s backsides. “I’ll just settle with figuring out my role on this team. I don't care to worry about the rest of you. I don't have the patience for it."

“Well, at least you’re honest,” Gamora sighed. “Groot?”

“I am Groot,” he suggested tentatively from his spot on Rocket’s shoulder. “I am Groot?”

“Fewer tantrums sounds awesome, dude,” Peter chuckled. “Am I the last one? Okay then, uh…I wanna be a better leader. I know I do a lot of talking, but I wanna listen more. At least, this talk we’re having right now, that’s a start, right? I just…I get so excited thinking about what I do for a living, and who I get to do it with, and I want us to be the best damn heroes this galaxy’s ever seen. But…I know it’s hard to do that without great leadership. Not that that’s a slight against you, Gamora, you’re doing awesome,” he added quickly.

“I had no doubts,” she said dryly, though she reached to squeeze his hand in thanks. “And your suggestion for the Guardians as a whole?”

“This is kinda adding on to Mantis’s, but…don’t feel like you have to keep your thoughts and feelings to yourself.” He smiled at them ruefully. “We’ve all dealt with shit. We’re still dealing with shit every day. But as Gamora likes to tell me, two of the most important things in relationships are trust and honesty. So like, say something if you’re having a bad day, or you don’t like something that’s been going on. We’re a team, not a bunch of people who just happen to work together.”

“Thought you were about to launch into another motivational speech for a second, and I zoned out,” Rocket snorted. “But sure, I’ll bite, Quill. More talking, like we don’t got enough of that already. Can we go now? There’s icicles in my fur, and it ain’t pleasant.”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go, grumpy,” Peter laughed, getting to his feet. Everyone began following suit, chatting nonsensically to each other as they did. It was beginning to snow again, this time in small, but densely packed flakes. “Okay, we really need to get outta here, come on!”

They filed in through the roof access door one by one, shivering profusely. Nebula hesitated, wondering whether now was the right time to do it. Well, you’ve never been scared before, what’s stopping you this time? she thought, watching as the others vanished from sight. “Mantis,” she called.

The other girl turned in the doorway, blinking at her in confusion. “Is something wrong?” she asked, taking a tentative step forward. Nebula supposed she couldn’t blame her for being cautious – her hands were clasped behind her back, probably giving Mantis the impression she was about to pull out a blade or something.

“When I was at the mall with Quill, he mentioned that you were on a personal journey or whatever.” She practically shoved the item into Mantis’s gut, causing her to let out a small “oof”. “I thought this might be of use, especially since – like brother, like sister – you like to talk so much.”

Though the snow was starting to blur her vision, Mantis could vaguely make out what she was looking at – a book, heavy with a plush green cover, the word ‘journal’ embossed in gold cursive. Each page, made of thick cream-colored stock, was edged with gold to match. There were prompts on every other page, suggestions of what to write or think about, along with a small box to mark moods and feelings. It was the sort of thing Nebula scoffed at, something she would describe as “utterly pretentious”, but to Mantis, it was a step in the right direction.

“This must have been quite expensive,” Mantis pondered aloud, looking back up at Nebula. Her large eyelashes were now coated with flecks of snow, making her eyes appear even bigger than usual, cheeks unusually flushed.

“I can take it back if you don’t want it,” Nebula snapped, taking another step forward to snatch it back. Mantis immediately leaped away, clutching the book to her chest protectively.

“No, I do, it’s wonderful!” she exclaimed. “Thank you for the gift. I will most definitely put it to good use.” She smiled softly, reaching to awkwardly pat the other girl’s shoulder. “Merry Christmas, Nebula.”

“Christmas is over, you weirdo,” Nebula huffed, hastily brushing past her to catch up with the rest of the Guardians. Mantis chuckled to herself before turning to hurry down the stairs. It really was getting too cold for comfort, though if her chest was feeling a little warmer than it had been a minute ago, no one needed to know.

a/n: happy holidays, lovelies! i hope this fic gave you the warm fuzzies like it did when i was writing it. i also wanted to explore some other dynamics this time around instead of solely focusing on peter/gamora as i usually do, so i hope you enjoyed that as well.

some present visuals - this is the book that peter gave gamora (11/10, would recommend, by the way), and groot's gym somewhat looks like this, but if you've ever been to one of those indoor children's play centers you kinda get what i mean. aso, two more songs from peter's mix, "for gamora" - december 1963: oh, what a night by the four seasons, and happy together by the turtles. The song from gamora’s mix, “for peter”, is daydream believer by the monkees. also, rocket's backstory with lylla is partially based on their telltale counterparts, in case any of you were wondering what she looks like.

since this is the last twenty questions fic of the year, i just wanted to say a huge thank you to everyone who has read this fic and any of the others in this series! this 'verse is kind of my baby and i love being able to play around with the different relationships and ongoing storylines. i'm currently working on my other huge au, everybody wants to rule the world, so i won't be writing as much for this one at the moment, but hopefully, i'll have another one-shot in this series for valentine's day!

again, thank you so so so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed it as much as i loved writing it. likes and reblogs would be much appreciated, and i'll see you all next time!

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

Worn To The Bones - fic

Characters: Damian Wayne, Jon Kent Pairing: Jondami Summary: One thing was clear: Jonathan could not go out on patrol like this. So Damian would see to it that he didn’t. A/N: The lads are in their mid-twenties and live together. Obviously an established relationship. I miss Colin so he’s in there. The phone call is basically Colin reiterating that he too has seen that Jon needed a break, and knew that his burn out was coming, and also for Damian to remember that it’s to be all about Jon so he can’t be a pissy royal baby about anything especially food. After they stuff their faces and watch the movie, Jon spends hours talking about his day and his feelings and probably cries a few times. Damian just holds him and listens and continues to hold him even as he falls asleep. Damian also called them both off work the next day while Jon was in the shower so they basically lay in bed and stare romantically at each other all day. Alfred purrs the whole time because he loves his human dads. Inspired by: ‘Let’s Hurt Tonight’ by OneRepublic. 

~~

He was in the living room, doing some pre-patrol yoga with Alfred the cat, when the front door opened, and was roughly slammed shut.

He carefully lowered himself down onto his knees, even as Alfred mewed and trotted towards the foyer. Damian craned his neck to look over the back of the sofa, a greeting already on his lips. He held it though, when he saw Jon’s state.

Shoulders slumped, head bowed, leaned back against the door he’d just closed.

“Jonathan?” He called quietly, gracefully shifting up onto his feet. Jon didn’t move, even as Damian came towards him. Watched as Alfred meowed some more, rubbed against Jon’s ankles. Normally, that’d send Jon into a fit of smiles and cooing. Today, it appeared, not so much. “Are you alright?”

Jon shrugged when he felt Damian’s fingers skim his arm. “Long day, I guess.”

“You guess?” Damian questioned.

“Work sucked. My boss was pissed all day. Nothing really got done. Not to mention I got in a fight with Dad over lunch. Mom is, of course, taking his side. When she’s not interrogating me about my own life anyway. Then I was going through some of the evidence on the case we’re working on right now – turns out we’re barking up the completely wrong tree. Oh, and did I mention a lady dropped her groceries so I went to help her, and she hit me with her cane? Broke my glasses. Then a cheerleader from the high school spit on me while I was waiting for a bus. I don’t know why. She appeared to be spitting on everyone she passed, including a pigeon eating a fry.” Jon sighed, ran a hand down his face. Damian only just now realized the glasses were absent. “So I’m just…tired, I guess.”

Jon finally looked up at him then, his typical soft smile already on his lips even though he clearly didn’t want it there. There were light circles under his eyes – Jon wasn’t just tired, he was exhausted. Worn out and hiding it, just like he always tried to do.

(He always failed, though. Damian always saw it. Just never knew what to say. Never knew how to help, so he just opted for the next best option – not helping at all. Ignored it and let Jon think he’d ‘pulled a fast one.’ Let him think he bested one of the world’s greatest detectives.)

“But enough about me. How was your day?” Jon tried, voice still tight, but iced with fake pleasantness. “Sorry I’m home late, by the way. But I can be ready for patrol in twenty minutes, if you can wait for me.”

Damian just looked him over. The light bruise on his head, his crumbled jacket. He could see the still-drying spit on the knee of his jeans. His nails were picked to the cuticle – a habit when Jon got nervous or stressed. Always present when the stress and nerves is caused by his parents.

Then Jon’s stomach growled.

(He said he’d fought with Clark over lunch. And the Kent boys’ arguments were legendary. Rivaled the fights between him and his own father. Could go hours. Or days. Regardless, over lunch – Jon hadn’t eaten all day.)

“Oh, you know what?” Jon suddenly waved his hand. “Forget I said that. It’s my fault I’m late, I’m not gonna force you to change your schedule just for me. Go on ahead, I’ll just catch-”

“…No.” Damian cut off, and Jon looked surprised, almost hurt. “Jonathan, we’re not going to do that.”

Jon cocked his head as Damian suddenly pulled at his jacket, tugging it off his shoulders. “Do what?”

But Damian didn’t answer. Tossed the jacket to the corner, and leaned down to pick up his cat before spinning away, back towards the family room.

“Damian?” Jon asked, remaining at the door. Damian gently deposited Alfred onto the nearby loveseat, swung around an end table to shut the open window – the one they always opened as they prepared for the night’s patrol.

“Chinese? Or Italian? Or would you like to just have ice cream and sweets for dinner?” Damian asked, pulling out his phone, dialing a number.

“Dinner…?” Jon mumbled as Damian disappeared into the kitchen. “But it’s late…? And patrol…”

“Wilkes?” Damian hummed into the phone. “Yes, we’re fine. But I’ve decided that we’re taking the night.” A pause and Jon felt his mouth drop open. “…Yes, he does, and I will see to it that he gets what he needs.” Another stop. “Yes, I’m aware. And I’ve asked him, but he has yet to answer. Please inform Grayson and whomever else you feel needs to know. Be honest if you wish to be. I’m indifferent to what you tell anyone. Mhm. Mhm. Thank you. Bye.”

Damian reappeared, hanging up the phone. Looked up at Jon expectantly. Jon could only stare at him as Damian glided back towards him. “You…We’re taking the night off?”

“Yes.” Damian said, matter-of-factly. “Have you decided what you wanted for dinner?”

“But…Damian.” Jon laughed incredulously. “The city needs us.”

“You need your rest more.” Damian countered. Reached around Jon’s shoulder and loudly locked the deadbolt behind him. Kept his hand there, his wrist brushing the hairs on Jon’s neck as he whispered: “…I need you to be okay, more.”

“But I’m fine, Damian.” Jon offered. “I told you, I’m just tired.”

“No, you’re worn out. You’re being beaten down, and pulled in too many different directions.” Damian put his other hand on Jon’s arm. Smiled softly. “It’s called burn-out, Jonathan. And believe it or not, even I get there sometimes too.”

“The great Damian Wayne gets burnt out?” Jon smirked. Damian chuckled and pushed off the door, took hold of Jon’s wrists and gently pulled him forward. “Where are we going?”

“The bedroom.”

“Damian,” Jon sighed, letting himself be led anyway. “I’m not…really in the mood for…”

“Don’t be obscene.” Damian snorted. “You’re going to shower and change into whatever you feel most comfortable in this evening. I’ll order dinner and wait for the delivery person. Then we will lie in bed and you can tell me about your day, or what you’re feeling, or nothing. We can just watch those terrible movies you enjoy, and – I swear – I will keep my commentary to a minimum.”

“…What if I like your commentary?” Jon asked. Unimportant, he knew, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Whatever you want, we’ll do.” Damian reworded. “Just so long as it involves lying in that bed and you resting.”

Jon laughed. “Damian, I’m fine.”

“And after a mandatory twenty-four hour observation, I will make that determination.” Damian declared royally, though they both knew it was a joke. When they reached the bedroom, Damian spun Jon around, in the direction of the bathroom. “Now, go clean yourself up. Take as long as you need.”

“…Okay.” Jon whispered. Then, before Damian could escape, tugged him forward with his own grip, and kissed his forehead. Lingered there, then looked down into those bright teal eyes. “Thank you.”

Damian just smiled, released Jon’s wrists, and went to dash back into the apartment. But Jon caught him at the doorframe.

“Damian?”

The other glanced over his shoulder.

“Chinese with ice cream dessert?”

Damian grinned, nodded, and turned away once more. Jon watched him go, before shaking his head and disappearing into their bathroom.

And…maybe Damian had been right. The second the hot water hit his skin, he felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. The crap at work, the crap with his family. Just…the crap. Of everything.

He could feel tears in his eyes, as he leaned his face against the cool tile of the shower. Could have fallen asleep right there. Thought about doing it, honestly. But, you know, the drowning in only a few inches of water thing. And his bed was much more comfortable.

So after what felt like hours, he forced himself away from the warmth of the water, with the idea of the warmth of his bed – and of the man he’d by lying in it with – as his incentive. Dried himself, threw on boxers, took a deep inhale. (Something he felt he hadn’t done in months.)

He was ready to relax.

But when he emerged from the bathroom, he couldn’t help but stop immediately. Freeze, as he watched Damian set up a tray beside the bed. Full of all of Jon’s favorites from the restaurant down the street, beautifully displayed on plates. A 3-liter bottle of Jon’s favorite soda – that he didn’t drink often, due to its lack of health value – sat behind the plates, on the corner of the tray. In the other corner was a brown bucket, a gallon of gelato on ice within it.  

Alfred was flopped comfortably along the bottom of the mattress.

And Damian was a Bat. Damian was so focused on getting what Jon wanted and needed, that he hadn’t even turned the lights on. Just the TV, probably for background noise.

Otherwise, it was dark. And Jon realized – he kind of wanted it that way.

Still, it was a secondary thought, because his own focus was on Damian, and how kind he was being. How hard he was working to make sure Jon was okay. Turned his back on his city and his duty and the only thing he’d ever wanted to do with his life…for him.

“Why?” He whispered. Damian turned to look at him, his eyes glowing in the light of the television. Looked like stars, like the ocean. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because you need it.” Damian returned gently.

“But you wouldn’t do this for…for Dick. Or for your dad or…for anyone.” Jon shook his head. “Not…not that it’s a bad thing, or it makes you a bad person, I just mean…”

But Damian smiled, and stepped towards him. Hooked his fingers around Jon’s.

“Beloved,” Damian murmured. “You are not just anyone.”

And he felt those tears in his eyes again, as he took in Damian’s words, stared at his gorgeous face. Then collapsed into his arms, clung to Damian’s shoulders, buried his face in his neck, as Damian silently rubbed his back.

“What do you need, Jonathan?” Damian asked tenderly. “Tell me and I’ll get it for you.”

“Lay with you.” Jon tried weakly, his emotions pulsing through his veins. How much he loved Damian. How defeated he felt by the world. How worn out he really was. Everything. “…I just want to lay with you. I’m so tired. Please.”

“Done.” Damian promised. Shifting in Jon’s grip only so he could lead him to their bed. Carefully, he untangled himself from Jon to pull the covers back. Let Jon crawl onto their mattress, then motioned to a plate. “Food?”

“You first.” Jon breathed, holding his arms out. Damian chuckled, and crawled into the blankets after him. Wrapped them both up in it as Jon clung to his waist, rested his head against his chest. Listened to his heartbeat and relished in the sound.

Damian wrapped an arm around Jon’s shoulders, kept him close as he grabbed a plate with his free hand. Rested it on Jon’s hip. Grabbed only one fork – a clear sign that he was going to hand-feed Jon if he so chose it.

As soon as the food was settled, Damian lifted the remote, and changed the television to one of Jon’s favorite movies. Softly began stroking his fingers through Jon’s hair as the credits began.

Jon just smiled, closed his eyes for a moment, and squeezed Damian’s hip in equal parts gratitude and adoration.

Damian just kissed his head and held him.

He was starting to feel better already.

[cassiopeiassky]

When Everything’s Made to be  Broken (I Just Want You to Know Who I Am) Part 41

Hello everyone!  I’m briefly surfacing from the pits of academic hell once more to bring you this!!  *three more weeks of school...three more weeks of school...three more weeks of school*

To all of you that left feedback/comments on the last part - I apologize for not responding, but things are really chaotic right now.  Just know that I do read each and every one of your comments *cough cough* multiple times *cough cough* and I appreciate them (and you) more than I can say.

Plot:  When you inadvertently become a witness to a murder and are suddenly a target for death, it takes a specially skilled soldier and his team to keep you and your family safe.

This will eventually be a is a reader x Bucky fic. The reader, by the way, is a civilian. No super powers, no fighting skills, and by no means perfect.  

Word count: 2952

Warnings:

For the entire work:  Language (I have a potty mouth), violence, and angst.  This will probably get pretty dark later on, and there will be smut.  If that’s not your thing, you may want to avoid this story.

Additional warnings specific to this part: Violence, physical assault, death,  mentions of blood, mentions of murder/death (including non-established characters),     If I need to add anything else, PLEASE LET ME KNOW.  If you don’t want me to publish the ask, I won’t, or you can feel free to do it as a Nonnie.  I will not take offense to any trigger warning requests.   Your well-being is important to me and I do NOT want to trigger anyone.

***I do not own any of the lyrics/music in this story, so please don’t sue me for using them***

Tags moved to the end.

WEMtbB Masterlist

Previously on WEMtbB:

You're just going to lie here for a minute or five, not long. Just long enough to pretend, long enough to maybe fool your mind into sleeping when you get back to your room. Just long enough for your heart to stop its ever-present ache, even if just for a minute.

A gentle sigh escapes as your body reacts to Bucky's proximity, and you feel yourself relax into the mattress.

You'll just close your eyes and lie here for a minute.

...only

...a

...minute...

Rough hands grab your shoulders, hauling you violently from your warm, safe cocoon.  You were in such a deep sleep that it’s difficult for you to comprehend what’s going on, or even where you are, and the shouting in your ears does nothing to lessen your confusion.  Finally able to force your eyes open in the blindingly bright lights, you see Bucky.

Wait.

No.

You see the Soldier.

The arm around your neck that’s holding you upright tightens slightly, and for the briefest of moments you think you see a flash of something – was it rage?  was it Bucky?? – in the cloudy eyes of the man still half lying in the bed, but whatever it was is gone a heartbeat later and his face resumes a neutral expression as he comes fully awake.  

“GET UP!” You flinch harshly when Anatoliy bellows, still trying to figure out what the actual fuck is going on.  He reaches over to grab a fistful of the Soldier’s hair and yanks him bodily out of the bed, causing him to crash to his knees on the floor before delivering a powerful backhanded hit to the side of his face.

“Just kill him, Kapitan, his skillset is not worth the lives of our men.”  The words are spoken by the man holding you, and you realize with disgust that it’s Grigory.  Your skin starts crawling immediately, and you want to vomit as he puts his nose into the crook of your neck and inhales.  “I think you will be mine tonight, lisichka,” he murmurs in your ear, and you try to pry his forearm from your throat but find that you can’t even budge him; you’re firmly stuck against his chest because of his vicelike grip unless you want to break your own neck.  The fucker’s strong.

Anatoliy delivers a kick to the Soldier’s stomach, and although he folds over for a moment as he gasps for air, he doesn’t speak or move to defend himself.

“No!  What are you doing?  Leave him alone!”  It’s hard to get the words out from behind the headlock you’re in, but you manage. Barely.

Anatoliy pauses to look at you in mild amusement, as if your outburst was cute, before turning back to the Soldier and cocking a gun at his temple.

No.  No. No no no no no….

You can’t lose him before you get him back…you can’t…

“That would be a bit merciful, yes?”  Someone enters the room and walks leisurely to the bed, completely unaffected and utterly at odds with the tension in the room.  Nicolai.  For some reason, his serene calm is more frightening to you than Anatoliy’s explosive anger.  “He still has some suffering to endure, I think.”  He pauses for a moment, regarding the scene before him with a detached and analytical air.  “Hold out your right arm, Soldat.”  The quietly spoken command raises the hair on the back of your neck.

He lifts his arm without question or expression.  Nicolai reaches the kneeling man, grabs hold of his elbow and forearm, and twists.

You stare in disbelief as he dislocates the Soldier’s shoulder.

A harsh grunt of pain is the only reaction, and Nicolai looks supremely satisfied until the sound of running footsteps in the hall draws his attention.

“Mr. Krakken, Kapitan!” The breathless crony pauses in the doorway to catch his breath.  “I reviewed the camera feed as you asked,” he gasps in a thick accent that you can’t identify, “It was not him.”

The shocked expressions on Nicolai and Anatoliy’s faces would be comical if the situation didn’t have Bucky’s life hanging in the balance.

“What?” Anatoliy barks sharply, “What do you mean?”

“It was not him, Kapitan. He arrived at 9:37 PM and then did not leave his room.  She entered at 12:08 AM, and that is the only movement to or from his quarters.”

Wasn’t him?  Wasn’t him what?  What the hell is going on?

Anatoliy regards his minion for a moment before speaking again.  “So then who did it?”

The man has finally caught his breath sufficiently to speak without breaking for air, “The footage shows nothing.  Whomever killed our men had to have broken in from outside, because the hallway cameras show no activity outside their bedrooms, but the video feed of the property does not show anything either.  We do not have cameras in the personal quarters of that wing, so we cannot see what happened in the rooms…we only know that it was not the Asset, because he was in here with her the entire time.  It is…it is as if a ghost was here.”

Nicolai narrows his eyes at you as if just noticing your presence before he turns to the man still standing in the doorway.  “Return to the security team and review the footage again to find what you can learn about the assassination of our men.  Report to me immediately when you have information.”

What?  Assassination of his men?  Maybe that means…

Anatoliy turns toward his brother.  “Is it possible that another Bratva family knows of our acquisition?  Is this perhaps retaliation for the executions yesterday?”

Nicolai shares a look with his brother, but does not answer.  Instead, he turns to you.  “So, milaya moya, you decided to come to him instead of waiting for him to come to you? I had no idea you were so eager.”

You say nothing, not bothering to try to explain to these asshats what’s in your head, or your heart. It’s none of their goddamn business.

“Grigory, let her go; it is not as if she is a physical threat to any of us.  Bring her back to her room, and then go wake the Doctor. Tell him he is needed immediately in the Asset’s quarters to reset his shoulder.”  Nicolai regards you for a moment longer before walking out of the room, followed by his brother and the rest of the men you hadn’t even been aware were there.  

You know you don’t have the option to stay, so you allow yourself to be brought to your neighboring room.  Thank God Grigory has a task, because he leaves as soon as he shoves you through the door.

Glancing out the window as you take a seat at the table, you see the sun just beginning to rise above the horizon.   So…early morning then.  Now that you’re fully awake, your mind feels sharper – you certainly hadn’t meant to fall asleep beside him, but you did and you actually slept last night.

Shaking your head at your stupidity – because face it, despite what your heart may tell you, falling asleep next to the Soldier is NOT the smartest thing you could do – you try to focus and figure out what’s going on.  

Okay.  So some of Krakken’s men are dead.  Good riddance…but how?  They clearly thought it was Bucky…the Soldier…but that’s not possible and there’s video footage to prove it.  Could it have been the team?  Clint’s a crack shot…but he’s best with a bow and no one mentioned arrows. Nat, maybe?  

Are they here?  Do they have a plan?  They’ve had long enough, right?  How long have you been here?  You were sick and unconscious when you arrived so the first week was a blur, and you aren’t exactly sure what the date is today, but if you’re piecing things together correctly you’ve been here for around…13 days…they���ve planned more in less time, right?

You feel a rush of homesickness as you realize you’ve missed your dad’s birthday.

Your shoulders drop a bit as you reach up to run your fingers over the collar.  It’s a bit looser now than when it was first secured around your neck, courtesy of Metzger’s concoction and your poor appetite, so it rests slightly lower but no less secure.  The newfound hope deflates a bit; it doesn’t matter if they’re here if they don’t know how to deal with this.  And do they know about Bucky?

Are they even here?  It was just three nights ago on the video chat that you could see they were still in New York. Your shoulders drop a bit more.   Maybe Anatoliy was right and it’s retaliation.

The light tap at the door causes you to lose your train of thought, and when you see that it’s Mikhail you jump up to help him.  He’s juggling your breakfast but still practically sprints to the window to close the godawful drapes after shoving the tray onto the vanity.

“Mikhail…what-“

“I have to go into Krasnoyarsk today to run some errands for Doctor Metzger,” he says somewhat thickly around his swollen face and split lip.  “It is a 140 kilometer drive, so I will be gone for the rest of the morning and part of the early afternoon.”

You’re momentarily distracted from his odd behavior by his comment.  “They’re making you run errands?  As busted up as you are?”  Assholes.  But did you really expect any less from those pricks?

Your eyes quickly pass over him to take stock of his injuries.  You were right – a broken arm and two black eyes.  The way he holds himself suggests damage to his ribs, and you wonder if they’re bruised or broken…not that it really makes a difference.

“It is my greatest privilege and pleasure to serve the Krakken brothers.”  He sounds sincere enough, but you catch the defiant glint in his eyes that you know the cameras won’t be able to record.  You have to fight back a smile; they tried, but the fuckers still didn’t break him.  

He takes a deep breath, and the look on his face lets you know something’s up.

“Solnishko, do you know anything about what happened last night?”  He looks like he feels bad asking the question, but you’ve no doubt that he has no choice in the matter.  Of course they’d send him in here to question you.

“No, I don’t.  I was with Bucky…um…the Soldier.”

His eyes shoot to you in surprise.  “Are you okay?  Did he hurt you?  Did –“

“Mikhail, I’m fine. Nothing happened, I just heard him having a nightmare, so I went to calm him.  He never woke up; I don’t think he even knew I was there until Anatoliy came in.” You shrug before you continue, weighing how much to say out loud when you catch Mikhail’s quizzical look.  “I didn’t mean to fall asleep, it was a complete accident.  I just…I…” It’s hard to say, because you don’t want to admit it to yourself - mostly because saying the words feels an awful lot like admitting that Bucky’s really gone - but you finally do, “If he’s asleep, he’s my Bucky.  Or at least I can pretend.”  Your cheeks grow red, and you don’t know why.  “I miss him, Mikhail.”

You didn’t know that tears were gathering in your eyes until one rolls down your cheek.

He sighs sadly.  “I am sorry, solnishko.”

You can only nod in response; your admission put you on the edge of breaking, and opening your mouth to reply might cause a chain reaction that you won’t be able to stop.

Mikhail gently passes his good hand over his swollen eyes.  “So you did not hear anything?  Last night?  Did you see anyone in the hallway as you went to the…as you went to him?”

You smile softly at Mikhail’s correction – you appreciate his effort to refer to Bucky as a person rather than a belonging…rather than an Asset.

“No, I didn’t see or hear anyone.  What happened?”

He takes a moment to respond – you don’t blame him.  He’s probably being monitored quite closely and doesn’t want to risk another beating.

“Twelve men were found dead in their quarters this morning.  There were no signs of entry – in four of the rooms the only evidence of anything amiss is a dead man and a bullet hole through the wall.  No glass was broken, so no alarms went off.  In the other eight rooms, there is only a dead man and a lot of blood from having his throat slit.”

Holy shit.  That’s fucking terrifying.

“Solnishko,” he begins quietly, “please be cautious.  Please keep the curtains drawn and stay away from the windows.  It is more dangerous for you now than before; I know it is hard to believe but it is true.  Not only is there an unknown threat, but also Kapitan’s men are on edge, so it is best if you say out of their sight.”

You nod your understanding, wide-eyed at the information you've just been given.

“I leave in ten minutes- is there anything you need before I go?”

Wordlessly, you shake your head.

Mikhail nods once in acknowledgment and leaves, closing the door behind him.

***

Over the course of the next few hours you hear a lot of footsteps outside your door and voices beneath your window.  Despite Mikhail’s warning, curiosity gets the better of you and you open the drapes to watch the commotion outside.  There are a lot of men - many more than you'd seen so far - and they're traipsing through the snow, walking in and out of the bordering trees; you figure they're looking for any signs of last night’s assassin.   They’re all huge and armed to the teeth.  Yeah, you won’t be leaving this room any time soon.  You watch for a while, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Soldier, but no dice.

What did they do to him after you were brought back here?  Did they set his shoulder?  Or hurt him more??  You have no idea, and haven’t heard a thing from the other side of the wall.  You take a deep breath to calm your anxious thoughts – it won’t do you any good to get all wound up again – and refocus your attention outside.

It must be really cold out, because they're all bundled up, and you can clearly see their breath when they speak.  You can’t help but hope that at least one of those fucknuts gets frostbite.  

***

Silence.  The bustle and commotion of the morning is gone, and it’s completely silent.

It’s eerie if you think on it too long.

You left the drapes open. Fuck it.  The patch of sunlight you’re currently lying in is worth it. If you close your eyes and pretend, it’s almost as if everything is normal.

You can pretend that Bucky is downstairs with the boys, and their squealing laughter would tell you that he’s giving them piggy back rides again.  You can pretend that you’ve got cupcakes in the oven, and that Bucky is down in the gym area, working out while the boys nap.  Or…you can pretend that he’s in the shower, just moments away from stepping out and allowing the steam to carry the scent of his body wash and shampoo to you as you wait for him join you on the bed.

Pretending is still lonely, though.

Soft footsteps in the hall make their way into your consciousness, and you recognize them as Mikhail’s.  You sit up just as there’s a knock at the door, and he comes in carrying a stack of fresh towels.

“Solnisko, you are required to attend dinner tonight.”  His tired, swollen eyes convey his apologies, and he looks…nervous?

“Okay,” you quietly acquiesce.  Something’s off with him, and you don’t want to distress him any more than he already is. Besides, it’s not like he doesn’t already know that you don’t want to eat with those assholes.

Mikhail disappears into the bathroom and returns a few moments later with the used towels. “I’ll be back to help you get ready in about an hour – please shower now so you are ready when I arrive.”  He’s staring at you intently, and it’s making you really uncomfortable.  Does he expect you to fight him on this?

“Mikhail, I already showered –“

“Shower again.”  The abrupt command takes you by surprise. “I…uh…it will be easier to do your hair if it’s freshly washed.  And it may help you relax.  It would be best for you to destroy the evidence of your stress.”  He fixes you with a hard look, turns on his heel, and leaves.

Well, that was fucking weird.  Maybe he’s reacting strangely to some pain meds?

There’s no reason to make his life more difficult, though, so even though your hair is still thoroughly damp from its earlier washing, you move to do as he requests.  It’s not like you have anything better to do.

Closing the frosted glass door behind you, you hang a robe over the top and begin to undress in the only private area you have.  Your attention is caught by the folded towel on the tile floor; that’s…strange.  You know you didn’t leave that there.

Something flutters to the ground when you pick up the towel.

What the hell…

You lower yourself slowly to retrieve it, heart pounding in your ears.

It’s a cheap single-ply napkin, with letters scrawled in black ink.

You read and reread the cryptic poem, committing it to memory before turning on the water.  Suddenly Mikhail’s last comment makes a lot more sense…yes…you’ll destroy the evidence.

With your heart pounding violently in your ears, you hold the napkin under the spray, rubbing it together firmly after it is fully saturated.  It starts breaking apart almost immediately, and you carefully make sure it’s nothing but a thin pulp before allowing it to fall from your hands and flow down the drain.

”I went into town today and what did I hear

But a story about a billionaire and Paul Revere

The spiders and red coats are coming for you

Hold on for dear life, they’ll get your love, too”

Round 1 Tags:    @rogersxbarnesx @hellomissmabel @beccaanne814-blog  @musichowler @nykitass @danimuhle @iwillbeinmynest  @shifutheshihtzu @iamtal @passiononfire @jade-cheshire @flowercrownsandmetallicarms @lostinspace33 @gingerrootknits @callmebucky-doll @learisa @sammedrano @hardcorehippos  @vaisabu @widowvinter @amrita31199 @bellenuit45 @agentraven007 @ sarahjeaniejean  @canumoveyourseatup-no @unpredictable-firecracker @ omalleysgirl22  @crazyliraz   @shamvictoria11    @kaaatniss  @lillian-paige  @ladylizzieofdarbyshire  @sexyseabass1231   @knittingknerdy  @4theluvofall  @howdoesoneadult

[gwynne-fics]

[Twisted to a Fault Chapter 94 — banner by mrshobbes]

Lexi has made me lovely banners for some of the chapters. She’s complied them all for us. Please take a look! They are fabulous and she is amazing!

Twisted to a Fault Master List

Chapter 94: 3010 words

=====

“You’re not having fun.” Ji-Sun pouted at her as she sat down next to her. “You only danced to one song and you haven’t even had more than one drink. Do you want to go?”

Rachel shook her head. “I feel a little bit like an imposter even though I really like the atmosphere here.”

Ji-Sun tilted her head and gave what might be a bitter laugh as she drained her drink. Her expression turned serious. “Half of the girls here think they’re straight. Some of them are, like you, but a lot are figuring out they are bisexual because this is a mostly safe place. The rule here is that you have to be a girl. That’s all that matters. You’re not an impostor. Next.”

“Next?”

This time her laugh was a bit lighter. “The next thing bothering you. I’m going to get rid of all your worries so you’ll come dance with me once you finish that drink. You said you wanted to be worn out enough to sleep without your boyfriend.”

“I got a cool assignment at school and my mother may have preemptively ruined it by being my mother.” It irked her. Not because she was going to use So-Nyeo or Yoo-Sun. She wasn’t even going to talk to Team Leader Baek. She just wanted to be able to use upcoming RS International brands. She wanted to use Yours if it was appropriate. Now, if she used too many brands sponsored by her company, she would be accused of cheating.

Her head started to hurt.

“My mother does that all the time. I think she’s worried I won’t…She thinks this is my rebellion and I’ll use it to destroy everything she built after my father died. She’s gotten more controlling the more it’s clear it isn’t a phase. I’m jealous you don’t have to live at home.”

“She makes me come home sometimes.” Rachel leaned back and started in on her drink again. “I’m sorry she doesn’t see that who you love has nothing to do with how good a president you’ll make. And our mothers prove that you don’t need to be married to a man in order to be good at running a company.”

“You’re right. She’s just from a time where she didn’t have a choice. I wish she knew that time was over.” She sighed and downed her drink. “I wish that time was over.”

Rachel took Ji-Sun’s hand and pulled her to her feet. “Come on. Let’s dance. We didn’t come here to be melancholy. I’m sorry I brought it up.”

Ji-Sun hesitated as they walked down the stairs to the dance floor. “It’s a slow song. That’s how it is. Three fast, one slow. We can just get another drink.”

“You don’t want to dance with me?” Rachel found smiling at Ji-Sun was almost as easy as smiling at Young-Do or Hyo-Shin. Watching her light up and feeling her grip tighten made it worth it. Rachel went out onto the dance floor with her and knew it would establish them as a couple for the regular ladies that came. Rachel was a little bit taller than Ji-Sun because her heels had an extra centimeter, so she put her hands on Ji-Sun’s waist.

Ji-Sun noticeably blushed and ducked her head before placing her hands on Rachel’s shoulders. If they were seen as a couple, Rachel wouldn’t have to worry about rejecting any of the other nice women she met these last two nights. Besides, she was here to have fun with a friend and blow off steam. Ji-Sun knew that and that’s all that mattered.

“Let me know,” Rachel said quietly under the music. “If there is a girl here you want to pursue. We can have a knock out fight so you can cry on her shoulder. Then, if it doesn’t work out, we can just make up. It’s the least I can do since you brought me to such a great place.”

Ji-Sun laughed but her eyes were a little bit wet. “I think you underestimate how beautiful you are. I’m going to have to beat off girls with a stick to keep you for myself.”

“As long as you make sure I’m not accidentally hurting you. I like you. I want to be friends.” It had to be the drink. She didn’t intend to have this conversation for months at least. Thank goodness, Ji-Sun didn’t seem sad or taken aback.

Her eyes softened and she kissed her cheek. It allowed her close so Rachel had no problem hearing her. “I’m not foolish enough to fall in love with a straight girl. Just like girls and boys can be friends, you and I can be friends. I thought you were interesting and since you were dating the boy my mother wants me to marry, it seemed smarter to be your friend. I’m glad you texted me, Rachel. I don’t want to be your rival for a man’s affection, especially since I don’t want it.”

Rachel closed her eyes and hugged her tightly. She kissed Ji-Sun’s cheek and they finished out the song in silence. They broke apart after the slow song ended. The music picked up and they finished out the set dancing together. Ji-Sun took her home and Rachel finally didn’t fall asleep feeling lonely.

Team Leader Baek silently looked over Rachel’s new fall/winter line. She was impossible to read but Rachel was excellent at not fidgeting while she drank her coffee. She also included her preliminary sketches for spring/summer to show that she had a plan. Rachel let her mind wander over her weekend plans while she waited.

After this meeting she was leaving for Gwangju to surprise Young-Do. She knew for a fact he was stuck in meetings and not planning to come home for the weekend. Go Nam-Il promised her that he would return to his officetel by seven and not do anything ridiculous like try to surprise Rachel instead.

She was taking no chances they would miss each other. She picked out her prettiest lingerie, her best wine, and had dinner planned for delivery at seven-thirty. It was her turn to surprise him. She really wanted to surprise him. Young-Do was a romantic and she needed to make a gesture to show him that she knew him.

Rachel hoped Go Nam-Il didn’t have to tell him in order to keep him in Gwangju.

Young-Do’s two weeks were almost up. He told her that he was going to make it last night. She just couldn’t wait any longer. She even looked up local tourist sites so they could do normal couple things this weekend.

“This is a good start.” Team Leader Baek called her back to the present. “I like the direction you’re going for spring and summer. I’ll have So-Nyeo go down to the garment district and pull fabric samples on Monday using your color palates. I want you to switch out one of the skirts for another pants option. I’ll have Chang-Soo do more market research on standard office attire for you. Most companies aren’t like ours. This is a good start but it still needs some work.”

“Thank you,” Rachel said. She wasn’t surprised at the switch or the expectation she tone it down.

“You are ahead of your deadline and that’s good. President Lee will be pleased.”

“And you?”

“I’m also pleased. Our team has had too much downtime. When can I expect the first drafts for the spring and summer looks?”

“Tuesday. I’m going out of town this weekend.” Thankfully, she didn’t ask Rachel why. “I don’t know how much time I’ll have to work on it.” Rachel planned on bringing work with her. It wasn’t romantic, but if Young-Do was late, she didn’t want to be bored. It probably wasn’t romantic, but she scheduled their time so they could do things, make love, and work if they needed to.

“Enjoy your trip.” They both stood and bowed politely to each other before Rachel went to say goodbye to the rest of the team. If she left early on a Friday, then perhaps, Team Leader Baek would release them early, too. Rachel gathered up her purse and portfolio. She was turning to leave when she glanced at Chang-Soo’s desk.

He’d taken her advice and put up some pictures, but none of them contained a girlfriend. Two were obviously family and one was clearly friends from high school if the uniforms were any indication. But there was one that caught Rachel’s attention more than any other. Four men in military uniforms smiling brightly for the camera.

“You know Lee Hyo-Shin?” Her question startled Chang-Soo and he stuttered a few times before he could answer.

“Yes. He was our platoon team leader my first six months even though he was younger than all of us. He was a good friend and a good leader. I got back four months ago. How do you know him?”

Rachel smiled to herself. “He was my sunbae in high school. He was a good sunbae there, too. No girlfriend?”

Chang-Soo flushed and scratched at the back of his head. “No. But I thought it would be nice to have some pictures up anyway since you suggested it. I…I’m taking care of my grandparents. That leaves little time for dating.”

“Alright. They’ve calmed down. I just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“Thank you, Designer Yoo.” Chang-Soo had a nice smile that she managed to return before she told her driver she was headed down to the parking garage. He opened the door for her and hurried to the front seat. There were flowers on the seat next to her in a small bouquet and she smiled. Good, he remembered to pick them up for her. Young-Do joked once that he wished his girlfriend would get him flowers after one of the romances they watched in high school.

She couldn’t remember any time a girl he went to some event with ever brought him flowers. She would be the first.

“What does traffic look like?”

“We should get to the train station in plenty of time, Agassi.” He pulled out of the garage and hurried out into traffic. They arrived quickly, he handed her the ticket and travel information, and helped her with her luggage. She had a private seat and settled in for the two hour ride down to Gwangju. Rachel retrieved her sketchbook and a pencil. There was no use in wasting this time. During the trip she sketched out four more looks. One she knew would be rejected but she kept it anyway.

The train arrived on time and Rachel took her things out to the main terminal. She’d scheduled a private driving service that Go Nam-Il recommended. They were perfectly professional, did not make her wait, and got her to Young-Do’s officetel.

The driver let helped her out of the car. He pulled her suitcase out of the trunk while she juggled her portfolio, purse, and the flowers. Thankfully, they held up on the trip. Go Nam-Il gave Rachel both the room number and the code to get in, so she opened up her texts while her driver walked with her suitcase behind her.

Young-Do was on the fifteenth floor and her stomach started turning as she got a good look at the time. It was nearly seven and she wanted to beat him here. She was in luck. His apartment was at the end of the hall. She entered the code, it worked, and all the lights were off as she went inside. She took her suitcase and thanked her driver. He would be back to pick her up Sunday evening and take her back to the train station.

Rachel made quick work learning the small apartment. Everything was neat and tidy. She put her suitcase in the bedroom, checked her hair and makeup, before going to wait on the couch with her sketchbook.

By ten minutes after seven, she was pacing and convinced that Young-Do had been too stubborn to keep in Gwangju. She checked her phone several times and almost was to the point of texting Go Nam-Il when she heard Young-Do talking to someone as he imputed his door code. She put her phone down on the coffee table, flipped her hair over her shoulders, and picked up the flowers.

Then she heard Go Nam-Il, quietly answer whatever Young-Do was irritated about, with: “I am not your personal assistant. I am here to make sure you are safe, President Choi. It is not my responsibility to make sure you have your motorcycle keys.”

Rachel almost laughed as Young-Do apologized for not being responsible enough.

They walked in and Rachel caught a smirk from Go Nam-Il when Young-Do stopped short and it registered that he was looking at her. “Surprise,” she said and nearly panicked when he froze and stared at her with wet eyes. She tried to diffuse it quickly. “Thank you,” she said to Go Nam-Il. “For delivering him to me.”

“Agassi.” He bowed and then left them alone. Young-Do continued to stare at her and she was ready to try and say something else when he slowly walked up to her. His gaze was less shocked and more direct now. He swallowed several times when he stood before her. He bent down and kissed her.

“I had a plan,” he whispered against her mouth. He cupped her cheeks and curled his fingers in her hair. He’d never kissed her like this before. It was deep and slow and measured and deliberate. He blinked rapidly and hastily wiped at his eyes. “And you ruined it with flowers.”

“I like my plan more. You’re going to crush them.” She reached up and ran her fingers over his lips. His reaction was completely unexpected. She thought he would have her up against a wall or at the very least in the bedroom by now. “Do you like this surprise?”

His answer was to take the flowers, set them on the coffee table, and then lift her up to give her another one of those deliberate and controlled kisses. At least, this time, she could easily get her legs around his waist and cling to him. It gave her back some of the control until there was a sharp knock at the door.

“That’s dinner. I ordered for us. I thought we’d be recovering and hungry by now.”

Young-Do laughed, low and dark, as he kissed her neck and down where her blouse buttoned closed, before he set her down. Then he kissed her mouth again. “Fifteen minutes is not nearly enough time for what I want to do to you tonight. I had a plan, too, Rachel.”

He pulled away to answer the door but it wasn’t the delivery guy. Rachel blinked at the young man fidgeting to get inside but Young-Do didn’t allow him entrance. “This is inappropriate. Vice President Han has my phone number. I am done for the day.”

“He has an important meeting you need to take tomorrow morning with the zoning commission and environmental impact surveyors. I apologize Acting President Choi, but I needed confirmation today. I saw that you hadn’t gone back to Seoul yet and he wanted me to stop you before you got on the road.”

“I’m not even going to ask how he knew. It was a last-minute plan. Fine, Hyun-Shik.” Young-Do sighed and scratched at his eyebrows. “Send me the schedule request. I’m staying in Gwangju until everything is settled and I have a better idea what the costs are. Go, report to your master like a good dog.”

He bowed and then was gone. Young-Do closed the door and braced himself against it for a few minutes. His back and shoulders were tense. There was a much politer knock and Young-Do answered the delivery guy with a smile. A few minutes later he placed the Chinese food on small dining room table.

“Were you planning on feeding us for the entire weekend?”

Rachel wrinkled her nose and joined him in the little nook. “We like different things and always fight over egg rolls and fried rice. You’re different now. What’s wrong?”

“That was Han’s mole. He’s been made a part of the Pearl team to keep an eye on me. I mentioned at our wrap-up tonight that I was going back to Seoul. It was less than an hour ago. I tried to block you from his line of sight but I think he saw you. Which means those meetings tomorrow will take all day.” He growled the last part.

Rachel wrapped her arms around his waist from behind and hugged him tightly. “There is a local night market in one of the parks tomorrow night. I planned to take you and do couple things there. It opens at six and closes at eleven. Your meetings will be done by then. I brought work with me, too. We have tonight. It’s alright.”

“It’s not.” He pulled away from her and went into the kitchen. Young-Do returned with plates, spoons, and chopsticks. “You put a lot of effort into this surprise even though you don’t have a lot of free time either. I don’t like wasting your time.”

Rachel reached out and touched his hand before he tore open one of the containers. “It isn’t a waste of my time. You will take control over those meetings. He can’t control their length with outsiders. You’ll finish in the morning and we’ll have lunch at a bistro I found online that looked interesting.”

His phone beeped and he pulled it out with a huff. His eyebrows lowered and sighed as he accepted the schedule requests. “Alright. Let’s eat. I’ll try to remember my original plan.”

Rachel sat down and accepted her full plate. A moment later he sat across from her and she had her feet snuggled in between his. “Your way?”

His smirk and that sultry look he gave her before that lovely and confusing kiss returned. “My way.”