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waatermelon-sugaar · 4 years ago

Text

Bliss

Pairing = FO! Poe x reader

Words = 6k (don’t look at me)

Summary = You watch your husband throw a knife, sparking 18+ thots

Warnings = SMUT (18+ only!) KNIFE PLAY, reader masturbation, fingering (f receiving), violence, like one non-graphic sentence of imaginary blood, but no actual blood (PLEASE message me if you wanna know more before reading and I’ll answer any questions you might have :) )

A/N 1 = This is basically pure smut and I’m sorry, it’s all from that training video

A/N 2 = You and Poe are married in the fic, and love each other. There is also discussion of the scene involving the knife. In real life, this discussion should be much longer, and less one-sided, going through details with much more depth. If you ever try knife play in real life, please never use the knife during actual sex in case of injury. You should also always have a first aid kit, and certain places of the body (the neck, inner wrists, groin area) should never come into contact with a sharp knife because of the high risk of lethal injury. In this fic they do it because it’s fiction. Please always do your research and make sure your partner does too, make sure you keep communicating and also that you trust the person you’re with.

If you have any questions about the content of this fic before you read, send me a message, if you have questions about knife play, send me a message, I’ll be more than happy to talk about it!! (Actually I’ll talk about anything to anyone if you ever want to chat! ☺️)

Also PLEASE let me know if I missed any warnings!!

Posted to AO3

Masterlist

***

“What do you think … Captain?”

You pause for effect before pulling out Poe’s rank. It’s a little too tough and impersonal for your tastes, usually preferring the purr, the rough and ready of ‘Sir’, but you know that Poe enjoys the rare occasion when you do use it, and if it means you get what you want, you’ll call him every name under the sun. Your husband’s brown eyes darken as you pout, giving him your best puppy dog eyes.

You’re sat on his desk, far enough back that you can swing your legs a little, hands tucked under your thighs, while Poe relaxes in his seat, looking like work, all sharp angles and dark looks. He trimmed his beard in the refresher this morning, emphasising his jaw, and that perfect, pink mouth. You can’t wait to get him home so he can relax properly. He works far too hard for a thankless job in your opinion.

Anyway, in your defense, it was Poe who planted the seed of the idea in your head in the first place.

You knew Poe was proficient at fighting, and weaponry, and that his skill in a TIE fighter was unparalleled in the First Order, but you’d thought that his particular area of expertise was constrained to blasters and other long-distance weapons.

Not knives.

You were supposed to be the best at knives. After all, Poe had recruited you to work for the First Order after watching you take down some disrespectful asshole who had been twice your size in close quarters, a small hidden knife strapped in your boot being the deciding factor in your victory. All over a dispute of cheating.

It was a shame, really.

All that loss of life … for nothing. All that chaos, just breeding more chaos, and who was the real winner?

Poe had shown you how nice it felt to bring order. He’d shown you how nice a lot of things felt.

So you’d just assumed that Poe wasn’t as good with knives, and therefore wasn’t as disposed to use them. You’d never asked, merely enjoying the way his eyes lingered on you when you practiced your skills in training, and really enjoying the sex afterwards. And even after a year of marriage, it had never come up.

But last week, you and Poe had been among a larger group of officers fighting your way out of a Resistance base after blowing their central intelligence systems. You’d shot once, twice and then a third time at a particularly stubborn oncoming Rebel, finally hitting them in the stomach, causing them to double over in pain.

Stars, your new job had made you rusty. You’d have to practice using your blaster more.

You’d stood over the rebel to deliver a final shot to their face, taking them out of their misery and turned just in time to see Poe throwing his blaster to one side, smoke issuing from it, and pulling a small knife from a holster on his thigh. Your mouth dry, you’d continued to watch as, almost in slow motion, Poe had thrown the knife with deadly accuracy, the small silver flash burying itself into the Rebel’s exposed neck.

Fuck that was hot.

Why was that so hot?

The rebel had stood there with an expression of surprise, cocky bastard, blood already dribbling, a bright red stream running down their throat, but you just had eyes for Poe. You’d ignored the way the Rebel’s body slumped to the ground with a heavy finality, and moved forwards, suddenly desperate to feel Poe’s lips on yours.

Damn the Resistance, and damn the rebels.

You would kiss your husband, and you would kiss him right now.

Poe had turned, his eyes automatically sweeping for you, surprise in his eyes at first at how close you already were, but he’d allowed you to push him into the dusty wall, one of your hands looking for his and twinning your fingers together.

Your deadly hands, spun together for eternity.

Your other hand is automatically reaching for Poe’s neck, fingers grasping at his hair, pulling his lips towards yours. You can smell his sweat, the familiar scent pooling under his cologne, filling you with a sense of safety, even amongst the very-real danger the two of you are currently facing. His free hand is already gripping your hip, pulling your body towards him as if you weren’t as close as you could possibly be.

It’s moments like these that you think the two of you are made for each other. You couldn’t imagine needing to kiss anyone else in the middle of a mission, couldn’t imagine anyone else letting you do such a thing, couldn’t imagine anyone else wanting you the way Poe wants you. The way you want - no, need - him.

The way he needs you.

Even though your eyes are closed, you can still see how Poe’s fingers moved, causing the knife to fly out of his hands, even as they grip your hips, one of his legs pushing nicely between yours, canting upwards slightly towards the ache you’re already feeling.

The movement is replaying over and over again behind your eyelids, and you never want to forget it.

Poe’s mouth slots perfectly over yours, and he gasps into you when you pull on his hair slightly. He’d had it cut recently, and it’s still a touch too short for your liking, unable to properly tug unless you hold the curls on top of his head.

You take the opportunity to taste him, dipping your tongue into his mouth, and he lets you, lets you bite his tongue, as his beard tickles your skin, scratching deliciously. And then you bite his lip as you pull away, and he groans deep, hitting your body lower, warming you up.

But you don’t let yourself move against his thigh. Not now. Not yet. Not even as you move your mouth to his throat, where his salt and pepper beard gives way to tan skin, kissing him desperately. You don’t stop, even as your hands untangle, and Poe reaches for your holster, raising your blaster and letting off a shot in your ear. You keep kissing him, following the line of his beard up to his ear, nipping lightly at his lobe, ignoring the sounds of a body falling behind you.

And now he’s plastering kisses to your skin, wherever he can get his mouth, on your forehead, down your cheek, along your arm, only separating from you as he delicately kisses each of your fingers. There’s further swooping low in your belly as you look at him, kiss swollen lips, hooded eyelids, dark eyes.

And then your gaze is broken, other members of the First Order catching up to you, whooping and hollering in success. Their shouts are enough to make Poe reach for your hand again, holding it as he pulls the two of you back to his TIE fighter, back to safety and freedom.

But the image of Poe throwing a knife didn’t leave you, even after the mission, taking up most of your brain during the debrief, and even popping into your mind later that evening, before Poe joined you in bed, where you found your hands trailing fire over your body, pinching your nipples, as you imagine Poe pressing a cold knife into and around the flesh of your breasts.

You’re naked, and the room is cool, goosebumps prickling along your flesh despite that familiar heat spreading through your veins, slowly burning you up from the inside. You can feel sweat gathering despite the chill, along your hairline, your upper arms, your stomach.

Once you’d started you couldn’t stop, pressing your thighs together as you worked yourself up, fingers teasing your skin as you imagined Poe walking in, still in his uniform. He’d stop at the end of the bed and just watch you.

And then he’d lean over you, still watching you with those dark eyes, and take out that knife, just tracing it up your leg, gently pressing it into the inside of your thigh, dangerously close to your pussy, and you pause, with your head tipped back on your pillow, mouth open, eyes closed, imagining the feeling.

Letting out a small whimper, you’d lowered your hand, dipping your fingers between your folds, and delicately traced around your clit, spreading the wetness that had gathered throughout the day around.

You’d settled into your familiar rhythm, slowly building the speed and pressure of your fingers on your clit, letting out little gasps when you hit the spot just right. And then your fantasy Poe opened his mouth, and you imagined him playing carelessly with the knife. “Put a finger inside yourself.”

You remember letting out a noise of agreement, not quite a word, inching your fingers further down, when your imaginary Poe clarified. “Just one, baby.”

You’d immediately lifted your head in protest, even though he wasn’t actually there, and you could have done what you had wanted to, but you’d obeyed. It’s part of the fun. You’d slid your middle finger in with little resistance, and closed your eyes in pleasure, your head falling back to your pillow.

You’d bitten your lip, muffled any quiet sounds that escaped you, imagining again and again and again how Poe would look holding that knife, ready to use it on you, carve the cold metal into your skin, not hard enough to hurt you, but enough that you can feel cool trails over hot skin.

Your single finger was slowly pumping in and out of you, and you were so wet you could hear it in the silence of your bedroom, your small gasps gradually increasing in volume. When you thought you couldn’t bear it anymore, you’d imagined Poe telling you to “Insert another one baby.”

So you had, letting out a small moan as a second finger joined the first, and gasped out Poe’s name. It was easier than when Poe did it, your fingers being smaller than his, but you could still feel a slight stretch.

You’d kept moving your fingers, gradually circled faster, ground your hips down so your clit caught on your palm, curved your fingers inside yourself. Your breaths were coming faster now, shuddering through your chest as you imagined Poe trailing the ice-cold knife up your legs, getting closer and closer to the juncture of your thighs.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, you imagined locking eyes with Poe, and he opened his mouth. “Cum for me, baby.” His voice was velvet, soft, but commanding and familiar as your toes started to curl. You couldn’t hear the noises coming from your mouth anymore, only dimly aware that you were moaning, the sound drowning out the squelch between your legs.

Your orgasm was a slow builder, and you remembered the last time Poe brought you to orgasm, how he whispered filthy praises in your ear as his cock dragged slowly in and out of you, coaxing you through it then as his imaginary doppelganger does now, watching you gush and spasm over your fingers, legs shaking in pleasure.

After you’d come, you’d lain there, panting on your bed, sweat cooling your skin. Languidly, you’d raised your fingers, cleaning them off with kitten licks, the tangy taste coating your tongue and wishing Poe would come to bed, he always enjoyed watching you clean up.

Your fantasy confirming just how into the idea of playing with a knife you were, you’d stewed over the idea a little further for a couple of days, imagining how it would actually feel, sure that in real life it would be different. You’d curiously pressed the blunt side of a knife on your inner forearm one day when you were alone in the kitchen, sending furtive glances towards the partially closed door. Technically it was nothing special, technically nothing exciting, not in that way, and it was the blunt side, but it had still sent a delicious shiver through you. You could feel your heart rate increasing as you trailed the cold metal up your arm, biting your lip as heat pooled low in your belly.

You even went so far to press the sharp point into your skin, stopping short of making yourself bleed, but enough you could see a small indentation in your skin. Your little ‘exercise’ cemented the idea further into your brain, the idea of something so dangerous being used in such a vulnerable position was intoxicating.

You’d taken your time, thinking over the idea, and carefully considering. You wanted to be sure of yourself before bringing the idea to Poe. He wouldn’t judge you for changing your mind, but still, it would be a little embarrassing to change your mind. Poe was careful with your boundaries, always checking in when the two of you went a little further than normal, and you knew that this would be no different.

All this had led to you coming to Poe’s office on your break and asking what he thought. He was considering it, as you knew he would, leaning back in his chair. His eyes are raking over you already, but you give him time, even though your palms are sweating and you’re sure your heart rate is through the roof.

It’s only when he moves, fingers twitching in their grasp of the chair that you react, leaning forwards, your feet swinging slightly at the motion.

“Ok,” he nods, and before you can fling yourself at him, he holds a hand up. “But. We have to establish some rules, like what kind of knife are we going to use?”

You nod, already pulling up the bag that had been resting on the floor, slumped over and forgotten in your excitement. You rummage around for a second, trying to find-

“Here!” You hold the knife out for Poe to take, grinning at the amusement in his eyes. “It’s blunt on both sides, you’d have to apply some pretty serious pressure if you wanted to do any damage.”

The knife is - and there’s really no other word for it - pretty, with a black blade, and decorated handle. It’s small, about 15 cm long, but the metal is heavy, and one that will stay cold for a long time. It had raised a few eyebrows when you’d asked for a pretty knife with two blunt edges, but you were a Dameron, and had some sway of your own. If you told those lower than you to obtain a specific knife discreetly and with no questions asked, so it happened.

Poe takes his time examining it, admiring it from all angles, shooting you another look, this time filled with pride.

“I did my research.” You flip your hair as if it was nothing, omitting how expensive the final bill had been, and how you’d charged it to your work account.

“That’s my girl,” he praises, still looking the knife over. Then he rests it in his lap, so he can roll up one of his sleeves, talking all the while. “Now tell me what you want me to do to you.”

So you do, explaining you’d quite like to be blindfolded but not restrained, to keep your colour system as the safeword, all while Poe is pressing the blade at different angles into his forearm, testing out different pressures.

When you pause, watching him, Poe glances up at you. “Go on.” Is all he says, and you nod, swallowing.

“I’d quite like it if you pulled the knife along my legs.” Your voice is quiet, but sure. “And maybe the same with my arms.” You pause, feeling nerves rising inside you and reminding yourself that this is your husband.

“I think… pressing the blade around my breasts would be sexy.” Poe pauses as he presses the flat edge of the blade into his forearm. “Just tracing around,” you continue, slightly braver now you have piqued Poe’s interest. “Maybe you could hold it against my throat? I don’t… I don’t know when, exactly, but I think it would be hot.”

You take a second, breathing deeper and you raise your chin to meet Poe’s gaze, feeling more confident as you continue. “Maybe you could hold it against my throat when you fuck me.” Poe’s gaze is fire, burning through you as he loosely holds your knife in his hands. “Maybe you could blindfold me and tell me that you wish the knife had a sharp end so you could carve your initials into my skin, showing that I belong to you.”

“And,” you start to move now, hopping off the desk so you can straddle Poe, easily plucking the knife from his hand, and looking down at it. “Maybe one day I can use it on you, and I can tell you how much I want to carve my initials into your skin.”

“Because we belong to each other,” Poe murmurs, his voice low. You nod in agreement, mouthing at his pulse point, and trailing sloppy kisses above the cut of his uniform. “I’d love that, sweetness.” His hands are running up and down your sides. “I love you.”

You just hum happily, content to be breathing in Poe’s scent, to feel surrounded by him. You’re interrupted by a knock on the door, and you just sag into Poe, the knife pressing slightly into your stomachs as you nose at his throat, unwilling to face the inevitable departure.

“What is it?” Poe’s voice is once again hard and forceful, impatient with whoever dared to interrupt.

“Sir?” The voice is young and you turn slightly, just enough to spy a young recruit in your peripheral view, not quite brave enough to enter the room, instead choosing to dither in the doorway, holding a number of files. “I’ve got these for you to sign.”

Poe just huffs, not bothering to address the recruit. You know what’s about to happen so you untangle yourself, before leaning over to grab one last kiss from Poe before the evening. It starts off innocently enough, a small peck on your husband’s lips as a goodbye, but then you back for another. This time his mouth is open as it meets yours, and you happily deepen it, despite the awkward angle that you have to hold yourself at. Your earlier conversation has fuelled your desire, revving you up, and the idea of waiting is hellish.

You taste all of Poe, moving one hand to his face, moving to feel the slight scratch of his beard underneath the pads of your fingers. His hand moves to cup your jaw, and you forget about the recruit standing in the doorway until there’s a slightly awkward shuffling in the corner.

So you break away, slowly, unwillingly, Poe’s mouth following even as you stand to your full height. “See you later,” you murmur, leaving your blunt knife in his lap, and pressing one more quick kiss to his cheek.

His hand catches yours as you leave, and he lowers his lips to your knuckles, soft lips juxtaposing with the harsh strands of his beard. “I love you.” They’re commonly said words between you, but they never lose their power, especially not when Poe says them, like you’re a goddess on a pedestal and he’s an unworthy sinner who wants nothing more than to worship at your feet. Said reverently, like it’s a privilege to love you.

The recruit is forgotten again as you look back down at Poe, still unable (or maybe unwilling, you’re not entirely sure) to tear yourself away. This time it’s a small, almost involuntary clearing of the throat that makes you duck down again for a kiss on the other cheek. “I love you too.”

Poe flashes you a quick smile, before all softness leaves his face and he turns to the files the recruit is holding out for him. You admire him for a second by the door, proud of the terror that Poe can instil in those below him so easily.

***

You’re lying on your bed when Poe enters the room. He’s already taken off his shirt in the refresher, exposing his chest, the warm glow of small lamps around the room making his chest look more golden than usual, as though he’d been touched by Midas. The belt holding his trousers up is slung low around his hips, and you can just see where his snail trail mixes into a darker bush, just peeking over the top of the fabric.

You’re wearing some of your favourite lingerie, bra matching your panties, straps criss-crossing your hips, and outlining your breasts. It’s soft against your skin, the satin material outlining your curves, allowing your nipples to poke through the flimsy fabric. Part of the reason that it’s your favourite is because Poe loves it so much.

You’d heard him enter your rooms, so the book in your hands is just for decoration, more concerned with the way you look resting among the pillows, upper body raised artfully against the headboard as you wait for your husband.

It still gives you a rush to call him that, and you idly wonder if it’ll ever fade.

He’s put his holster on, the one he wore on that mission, the strap doing nothing but emphasising his thigh. You recognise the handle peeking out of the shaft, and your mouth goes dry with excitement.

And Poe’s only looked at you, silent as he takes you in. Just his presence can have such an effect on you. When he does speak, his voice is hoarse, and your eyes flick down, admiring the already large bulge in his trousers. “Fuck baby.”

You swallow, your breath already coming faster, you look at Poe like it’s the first time, tracing the outline of his shoulders as if you don’t already know them by heart. He’s wearing his necklace, a familiar sight, the only change being that the ring that used to hang on his breast bone is now on your left hand, but Poe still never takes it off.

You plan on moving to Poe, plan to blow his mind before he can blow yours but before you can he’s already crawling on top of you, holding his weight on his forearms either side of you, dipping his head down to kiss you.

This kiss isn’t like the one in the office, more hungry, more urgent. There’s none of the calmness simmering between the surface, Poe’s let go of his control.

You automatically hook your legs around his waist, already canting your hips upwards as you grind on the seam of Poe’s trousers.

You separate your lips from Poe’s, moving down his throat, kissing, and biting as you go, beard scratching the skin on your face, pleasurable little bites of pain. When you can, you grab hold of his chain between your teeth, tugging on it slightly.

You move your hands up to bury your hands in the neat curls on top of Poe’s head, pulling in tandem with the chain.

And just like that, with a flash of fluid movement, the knife is pressed dangerously against the column of your throat, pushing your head back onto the pillows, forcing you to release the chain. It’s cold, and feels sharp, and Poe’s using it to force your chin back and up, pressing into your skin.

“Are you going to behave?” His voice is a growl.

You just grin at him, ignoring the thrills shooting up your spine, and the way your legs are tingling with excitement.

“Maybe you should use that knife and find out.”

Poe just rolls his eyes in response, fishing into his pocket as he leans back. “Put that on, sweetheart,” he instructs, tossing you a small square of black silk, your blindfold. “And lie back.” You do as you’re told, putting the blindfold on carefully, adjusting it around your hair for comfort, before scooting down the bed and lying back.

You close your eyes behind the blindfold, never enjoying the sensation of seeing darkness, and instead feeling like you’re floating as you wait for Poe to do something.

“Colour?”

Stars you can’t tell where he is.

“Green!” Your voice is embarrassingly desperate but you want to start and what is taking Poe so long? Why isn’t he touching you yet? You can hear him moving around the bed, feel the slight disturbances in the air, but you’re still not entirely sure where he is.

The first thing Poe does is pull at the waistband of your underwear. You lift your hips, helping him pull them off, and then you wait. You can hear Poe breathing, but he doesn’t do anything for a moment and you’re free to let your imagination run.

Has he discarded them, and he’s just watching you? Admiring you? Or is he holding them up to his face, still in awe of how wet you get for him, smelling you, tasting you, without you even knowing? You’re wet, you can feel the heat gathering between your legs, but has it been enough to leak onto your panties?

And then the foot of the bed dips, Poe travelling up to straddle you, coming to a rest on your thighs. He sits there for a moment, not moving, and you keen for him, desperate for him to start doing anything.

You can’t see the look on his face, can only imagine his expression, and it’s driving you wild.

When the knife first touches your skin, it’s a shock, cold thrills shooting up your arm from where the knife is resting lightly on the inside of your wrist. You giggle, releasing some of the tension building in the room, causing Poe to lift the knife from where it’s resting, instead leaning over to bite the skin under your ear, his chest brushing yours. “Concentrate,” he admonishes you, but you can feel him smiling against your skin at you, that softness that comes easy to him when it’s just the two of you.

You arch your back towards him as he stays there, enjoying the feeling of his chest against yours, the way his warmth spreads through you. You can feel his chain trapped between your bodies too, a warm, comforting presence, at such odds to the knife in Po’e hand.

You giggle again, his beard tickling your neck when he drops a kiss, when you feel the knife turn on your skin and curve up your arm. It’s cold, and sharp, and if you didn’t know it was blunt, you’d be worried about the amount of blood running into the bedsheets. The sensation is enough to stop your laughing, and you take in a breath, short and barely audible.

Poe’s sat up now, away from you, and you arch your back towards where he must be, desperate for contact as he travels the knife slowly up your arm and across the front of your shoulder.

You struggle to press your legs together, already attempting to relieve some of the pressure building. Poe doesn’t miss your subtle squirming, kissing the soft underside of your jaw, before talking. “That feel good?”

You nod, whining out a “Yes Poe, it-it feels so good, don’t stop, don’t stop, stars.” Poe adjusts himself, bringing one leg over your thigh so he can fit a knee at the junction of your legs. One of your hands flies down to grab Poe’s thigh, clumsy fingers looking for him before spreading across his warm skin. Your other hand is already fisting into the sheets at your side.

“Poe.”

It’s a whine, high-pitched and a bit pathetic, even as you shift your hips down, feeling the delicious grind of Poe’s uniform catching on your bare pussy, imagining the mess you’re leaving on his uniform not for the first time, feeling oh so good when you angle your hips in a certain way to press your clit. You’re soaked, you can already feel it slightly on your inner thighs and you dimly remember a time when you were embarrassed at how easily Poe aroused you.

He uses the knife to push the straps of your bra down your shoulders, cold and slow and achingly painful, but Poe doesn’t slide them all the way down your arms, even as he allows you to keep grinding your hips down against his leg.

He lowers his mouth to your breasts, mouthing at your nipples through the thin fabric, a wet heat pooling and you mewl in protest, impatient and wanting more. Always more.

More, more, more.

You don’t think you could ever get enough of your husband.

And his beard. The skin on your breasts is soft, sensitive, and you can feel the burn already, even through your bra. Each scratch sends a thrill up your chest, settling in your throat as you let out small noises of enjoyment for your husband.

Poe moves under your breasts, kissing and nipping at your exposed skin, and you move your hands to his head, fumbling a little at first, your knuckles accidentally knocking into the side of his face when you misjudge the distance, until you find his thick curls.

They’re soft under your fingertips, and you tangle your fingers in, tugging every now and then. Poe’s moving at an excruciating pace, and you want more now. Your arms are caught slightly in your bra straps and you impatiently push them down, not liking the restraint.

“Please, Poe.” You struggle to find his head again, before giving him another, harder, tug, and now it’s Poe’s turn to moan against your skin.

“Baby,” He sounds just as broken as you feel, even as he keeps his hands on your shoulder, the knife resting gently against the column of your throat.

Poe peels your now-wet bra from your breasts, undoing the centre clasp and allowing it to fall to the bed at your side. He kisses somewhere on your stomach, moving his free hand down, slipping through your folds easily, and dipping in his fingers, spreading the slick that’s gathered there, and you widen your legs further in an automatic attempt to make it easier for him.

You can’t help it, lifting your hips when he slides in one finger, gasping in pleasure. Poe gives you a second to adjust, before stretching you with a second finger, and you can feel his smirk as he kisses your stomach, crooking his fingers towards your sweet spot a couple of inches inside you, moving slowly as he teases you.

His chain just touches your skin when he kisses you, each movement jostling it a little, and you giggle, pulling at it in a futile attempt to control Poe’s movements.

Warmth is spreading all over your body despite the cool knife, and you can feel droplets of sweat beading, on your face, your neck. You’re sure there’s sweat on your breasts and stomach and legs too, but you don’t care.

Poe moves the knife from your neck, and you’ve lost your concentration, unable to figure out how he’s lying, lost in the sensations of the cold glide of the knife over your sweaty body as you moan, Poe working magic with his fingers. You can feel his weight on top of you and you allow yourself to float further, willingly losing yourself in the sensations.

“Colour?”

Poe’s voice is hoarse, even as he keeps moving his fingers inside you, building you up and up, the knife hesitantly pressed on the underside of your breast.

Your arch your back towards him enthusiastically, gasping out, “Green! Poe, it feels so good!”

The knife starts to circle the flesh of your breasts, pushing in the side of one, before Poe moves it to the other, and you’re sure your nipples are hard. You’re trying to push your body up, Poe making you feel light and airy and like he’ll raise you above such mundane things as lying in a bed.

His fingers are moving in and out of you now, and this is so close to your fantasy from the other day that you come close to your peak embarrassingly fast.

“You really like this, don’t you?” Poe’s purring in your ear, and you tip your head towards him, mouth falling open in response. You do. You do really like this.

The only sound you can make is a strangled moan, and you hope Poe knows what you mean, his fingers speeding up with your confirmation. He keeps talking, as though you’re going to be able to answer, his voice only spurring you on. “I bet you can’t wait to do this to me, my filthy little thing.”

“Do you want my cock? I can’t wait to get you bouncing on my dick again.”

“You’re so wet for me, you’re dripping around my fingers.”

And stars, you are wet, Poe’s fingers sliding in and out with a practiced movement, his thumb flicking at your clit, and you can hear the squelching of Poe’s fingers in your pussy, even as blood starts to roar through your ears.

“Fuck,” you swear, panting, your body hot. “Fuck, Poe. Poe.”

It’s like his name is the only word you can remember, the only word allowed to pass your lips, a prayer, a chant, repeated over and over again as he lifts you higher.

And then the tip of the blade is on your nipple and you’re going to come, you can feel it, your legs tensing even as your hips writhe on the sheets below you, keening for Poe, still desperate for more.

You cum with a breathless gasp of Poe’s name, hips bucking upwards into Poe, your pussy clenching around his fingers which don’t stop moving as he works you through it. He moves to kiss you, noses bumping as he adjusts his position, slowing the movements of his fingers as you continue to spasm helplessly below him.

And this is better, because as you come down from your high, your heart beating like a drum in your chest, you can feel Poe’s chest against yours, his heart beating nearly as fast as yours as your lips move slowly against each other.

Your hands come up, pushing the blindfold onto your forehead, preventing any sweat from dripping into your eyes and you take in the sight before you. You’re unintentionally giving Poe your bedroom eyes, you know, unable to open them fully, still giddy from pleasure. There’s a lazy smile on your lips as you drink Poe in.

His hair has become disheveled from your hands, errant black curls flopping everywhere, including his own forehead, which is gleaming from a thin sheen of sweat. His eyes are dark, that lovely brown colour almost swallowed whole by his pupils and his lips are pinker than usual, swollen.

He’s straddling your thighs, one hand resting on your hip with glistening fingers, the wet catching on your sticky skin while his thumb idly draws patterns into your skin. Poe’s other hand is holding onto the knife, and you let your eyelids dip, unable to keep them open for much longer.

Poe gives you a minute of rest, allowing you to catch your breath, before he moves. You don’t think anything of it, until you feel the knife on the inside of your thigh, scraping up your leg like an old-fashioned razor.

You slowly lift your head, opening lazy eyes and watch as Poe slowly moves the knife up. There’s slick liquid on your legs, proof of your release, proof of how much you enjoyed Poe, how much you enjoyed the knife, now collecting on the edge, white and shiny on the blade.

Your mouth’s dry and you can’t tear your eyes away, you and Poe concentrating on the same spot.

And then, oh maker, Poe closes his eyes, and fuck, he lifts the knife up to his mouth. There’s a flash of white teeth, pearly and sharp, then a swipe of his pink tongue, and your cum is gone, Poe swallowing, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

Stars, he’s going to kill you.

There’s a drop stuck to his beard, but you can’t move, frozen as arousal courses again through your body.

Your heart is hammering in your chest as though it’s trying to escape. This time it’s your turn to move, pushing Poe down and straddling him, settling into his lap.

This isn’t the end.

***

Taglist: @darthdameron

Thanks for reading! Reblogs and comments mean the world to me 🥰🥰🥰

#first order poe dameron #FO! poe dameron #FO! poe dameron x reader #fo! poe x reader #knife play

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matchamorphosis · 4 years ago

Text

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒔

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 || you and Andy go on a trip to Greece for your birthday and discover the love you have for one another.

𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆 || fluffy fluff

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 || andy barber × black[birthday girl]!reader

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 || 5.2K

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 || jealousy, some rom com cliches, divorced!andy, i used like six different dividers to match with the storyline so very sorry if that’s unusual to you!

𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒔 || past lives by bornes. mariposa by the peach rascals. apricot princess by rex orange country. out like a light by the honey sticks & ricky montgomery

𝒘. 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 || this is a birthday gift for @areyoustchewpid!!!! happy birthday ingrid!!! everyone go wish the birthday girl the best for her special day! 💗 I hope this fic fulfills your dreams of Greece with lawyer daddy and i hope you cherubs enjoy reading this <33

+ p.s || do not repost, republish or plagiarize my work on any other fanfic platform such as: wattpad, ao3, tumblr, etc or steal my work all together. do so and i will rip your spine from your scumy asshole and shove it down your talentless throat. ♡♡♡

THE GOLDEN FLICKER OF PALE PINK CANDLES CREATE A HOLY CHASTE HUE AGAINST BASHFUL SMILE BRIGHTENING YOUR FACE.

an event that you’ve been expecting all day yet while a firm chestnut table sits underneath your crossed legs cools as a sweetpea and seasalt ocean breeze blows into the dining room your expectations have somewhat been granted and changed. where only a three layer chocolate cake sits between you and Andy, both your lovestruck eyes never leaving each other despite the comet rippling starry sky glimmering from the white paneled windows.

everything is all sparkling, soft pink and golden at this moment.

from the rosy dawned blush that grazes against Andy’s cheeks to the blushy tone of your sundress and beating heart. candles sparkling to life as you and him in the very moment, wax melting in rosy dewdrops just like the fear of allowing these caged emotions to fly free. now they seemed to have been unrestrained by the gold bars of worry, aversion, and self committed rejection.

simple cursive writing made of periwinkle icing contrasts against the dark fudge confection this dearest friend of yours created. this friend who might have been something more in a life way beyond this year and century but as your heart beats in a melody casted by the Muses themselves it pirouettes with the cupid bow lights dancing in Andy’s pools of hopeless paradise. it’s all enough for you to lace your fingers with his-which you do- and wish for something else to spread against your lips besides the cake you both will cut in a minute after you blow your candles.

the words below your cupid struck glance read Happy Birthday Y/n in the divine candlelight, a squeeze of his hand only encourages the rapid pace of your heart to jump and for you to swallow your hesitance. a very same feeling floods Andy’s insides but for the past minutes just sitting directly on the table, lighting your candles and enjoying the meteor shower, he hasn’t kept his promise to himself.

a promise he made for himself since the beginning of today when he discovered how his palms sweat when you neared him and how his heart warmed when you spoke his name and how his soul just sang a different song when you took his hand.

he should say something now, he should tell you how much you mean to him in this different roseate light. maybe you’ll say the same words back and maybe with the rush of the rose glasses besides you both one thing may lead to another but what comes out of his mouth makes him bite his tongue. “I hate to break it to you but wax is getting on the cake,”

those words snap you out of your amour aura, eyes fluttering for a second and smiling afterwards when you see Andy fidgeting with the crystal glass in his large hands. cheeks reddening like ripe strawberries glowing in the warmth of spring, it radiates the space between you both and with an almost whisper to your name he has your hands in his soft palms. “what do you wish for y/n?”

the question makes you swallow the raspberry rose laced lump in your throat. the love potion for an innocent drink still glistens in your glass that rests beside your body but it would spill if you would do the simple action your heart has been caressing your mind to just pull his collar down to smash his lips against yours.

to feel the tender roughness of his bearded cheeks in your palms and his lips molded along with yours in a kiss that would put all sculptured lovers to shame. it’s making you sink and float at the same time but the sparking second that Andy leans down you oblige.

“i’m sorry for not realizing it all those years,” it makes your brows scrunch in slight confusion at the confusion, his cool apricot breath wafting and twinning with your airy exhale when his nose grazes against yours. the heat of the candles underneath your close faces, you raise your hand to cup his face.

“realizing what?” its then did the breath escape your lungs and your heart to stop beating.

seeing her open her eyes the very morning brought a different comfort than to watch her sleep- it was a normal thing to wake up but to experience her lashes fluttering to life to reveal the life in her sun speckled eyes was something for Andy. she rolled over, burying her face in the crispness of white sheets with a lazy grin.

through the honeycomb glass of the white portiéres of the hotel room, the soft sunshine of the province morning streams in and lights the bedchamber. the melodic sound of birdsong and light chatter slowly rouses her awake. Andy is seated in front of the swan feathered colored vanity, combing his hair and keeping the time on track on his watch.

the man had loads planned for you both today, a day planned for you both to be bone tired at the end but still reflecting on the memories and experiences once you laid your head to rest to sleep when it was over. the tapping rhythm of his polished tar black dress shoes fills the room, making you part open your eyelids to see who’s disrupting your peaceful second slumber.

“morning sleeping beauty, happy birthday,” he almost sing-songs, a slight whistle in his voice completely overtaking any fiber of drowsy and sleep riddance that enveloped your mind and body.

“morning Andy and thank you,” you grin with your porcelain smile, stretching your arms while simultaneously lifting your sunkissed legs. arching your back in a firm crane, yearning a deep yawn from you as you savour the sunshine on your ankles and naked shoulders.

“so I have a few things planned today but I thought it would be best to eat breakfast out at the cafe we talked about instead of ordering room service. what do you think?” his eyes focused on you in the mirror and you have no choice but to glance back with your remark weighing on your tongue.

so after a smile that was more than enough to let your childhood friend know that you were along with him for the ride you found yourself ready for your special day. a slightly puffed sleeve and flowy mint green sundress adorns your bodice softly, making you radiant in the morning sun that appears to be a glowing lemon slice across the cloudless skies.

arms securely wrap around Andy’s waist as he guides the scooter the same color of the sparkling sea and reflecting powdered blue vault above. hanging on to him as he brings you both to the tiny yet timeless cafe near the roaring pier of crashing waves and ancient cobblestone streets. the bouquet of large sunflowers that were tenderly hugged tightly between both your bodies are now free in your hold. their sunshine yellow petals sway in the morning breeze and take in the virtuous sunshine that rains in golden streaks on this magical day.

taking your seat near one of the outdoor tables, shaded by the umbrella the same color as the satin banner you both order your first meal as the waiter set your beginning entry of cheese, grapes, croissants and wine on a pine wood board in between you two. street cars come and go, along with passing people looking for special sites of eternal Athens Greece. the ocean bringing a calm sea mist breeze that only adds onto the refreshing and ecstatic tangibility seizing your atoms yet as you both talk about the plans you have for today.

although the words of the waiter coming to refill your tall glasses breaks both an uncontrollable smile and laugh between you both. “couples get a discount,” he spoke and you both had a dime for when you both were mistaken for a couple you’d be swimming in a sea as large as the one that captures your irises and heart.

with his confusion Andy quickly nods along, “yes we’d take that discount thank you,” and the waiter smiles back as he steps away after filling your glasses and informing you about your meal which you both thank back.

“Andy I thought we weren’t gonna take advantage of discounts by pretending we’re a couple anymore,” you broke with a raised brow and Andy only rolled his eyes in any way that wouldn’t ever be taken seriously by anyone despite his job disposition.

“awe come on y/n let's relive old times! do you wanna pay full price when we’ve been doing this for years?” Andy looked at you through a playful demeanor that you only recognize when he’s concocting and getting away with something as seemingly harmless as this.

“i’m not really fond of the backlash when it backfires on us in the end,” you speak as you bite into a butter croissant, the rich pastry practically melting on your tongue. “also you’re making us sound like some sort of Bonnie and Clyde duo. doesn’t look good with that attorney license of yours Barber,” you laugh as you return the same eye roll back as you sit up with your glass in hand.

“remember when I booked us a reservation at that restaurant when we were in college and I freaked out over the bill? I ‘proposed’ to you and once everyone cooed and congratulated us we got our bill cut in half-”

“and I nearly kicked your ass afterwards, yeah Andy my foot is remembering the loss,” you intervene which makes Andy shake with loud laughter enough to make all the other pairs -real couples instead of you sly imposters- stop from their conversations to glance at you two breaking into hysterics whilst eating green grapes and sipping on white wine.

“to be fair we were broke college students! money was tight as hell back then but I didn’t see you complain when I got on my knees and put a ring on your finger. I thought the rhinestone looked very good with your dress that night,” popping a grape in his mouth with a humorous smirk etched on his lips.

“i’m sure you were looking forward to saying that when you gave me a kinder surprise from a candy machine.” rolling your eyes as you bite into another golden croissant, pairing it along with a nibble of creamy cheese that taste heavenly on your tongue.

“alright you can hold that against me I still deserve it,” Andy still remembers the other students in his seminar congratulating him and some who didn’t know about his engagement and divorce to Laurie still believe he’s engaged to you. it was funny and seems like something straight out of the cheesy rom coms he and you used to binge together as bored high schoolers.

that you and him used to scoff and egg on the oblivious main protagonists to just kiss and push away the denial to just be together but amongst all these couples in the morning light at this café it’s you two reliving your movie annoyances. it was hilarious and unfortunately ironic but Andy Barber didn’t see anything or comprehend the knot in your stomach when you took his hand and said something he couldn’t quite hear.

all he was paying attention to in the slow-motion picturesque of your gleaming smile, the sparkle in your deep lashy eyes and how your lips moved so theatrically as you spoke his name.

Andy, Andy, Andy

eyes glossing over in wonder, it was possibly the prettiest thing he’s seen and he’d wish to hear you say his name one more time. heart yearning to just catch your lips movement yet as his mind wedges himself back into reality he finally catches what you’ve been saying.

“Andy our food is here,” you said as the waiter came with your large glass plates of oven baked pizzas. the comforting rich smell of toasted cherry tomatoes, mozzarella cheese and freshly baked dough fill his nostrils. it's enough to cover the lush sweetness of your Dior perfume he loved taking a whiff of when you'd lean over the table to sneakily reach for his grapes and croissants.

“um, yeah thanks for the heads up,” he spoke in almost a broken sense of charisma compared to his boyish behavior minutes ago but it’s just now that’s Andy denying the feeling-

the seed of amorous that had been planted in his heart a long ago that’s beginning to sprout now.

after roaming the creaky wooden piers with the sunshine twining divinely against your hair and every inch of revealed baby soft skin. a clementine in his hands and an apricot in yours, feeding the peels to the doves that rest besides the ancient stools as Andy give hands you cardinal slice after citrusy cardinal slice.

dangling both your legs over the docks and enjoying the way the rippling waves brushed against your curling toes. sweet orange and apricot filling your mouths like the sun spreading its orange and blush provenance across the aqua waters. lonely fingers fondle with your citrus fruits that you bought with wo shiny coins from a passing vender in a straw sunhat.

savoring the ocean blue and the sunny sky revealing the cotton white clouds that dot like dollops of whipping cream upon it. the sea breeze dancing with strand hairs, the topic of a greenhouse visit sparks and a sense of adventure rushes though bloodstream. within a matter of seconds you both race to hop back on the forget-me-not scooter.

inciting a school children challenge on who’s going to get there first and with the swiftness of putting your sandals back on and running against the mossy and dandelion cracked cobblestone had you seated on the bike. “I win,” you grin and of course Andy just gives you a fauxly hurt demeanor.

“you cheated,” you only hum back at his petty exchange, playing along for his sentiment until he sighs in his defeat. with the engine starting off you and him race to the glass palace that is the greenhouse.

a golden rimmed and sea mist colored empire, it stood out to you when touring the tiny city of colorful roof houses and marketplaces. mossy vines and leafy thorned shrubbery beautifully frame the interior pillars as rich golden sunlight fill in the glassy castle. cement molds create the railing for the lily pad and swan lotuses of the man made ponds. an occasional jasmine frog leaps from pad to pad as the milky pink and yellow koi’s swim about in the shadowy water.

exotic trees and wild plants bunch throughout the establishment, creating shade against the Apollo’s heavy rays as Andy lifts his head to marvel these large and tall works of Artemis. of course, with your polaroid camera you found in the rummage of your closet (that you haven't used since senior year of college) in a tight hold. wandering feet walk through the limestone pavement of the greenhouse, a sunflower in your hair that brightens the deep greens succulents and rich browns tree bark.

the vines of soft pink and purple flowers dangling from the glassy dome roof fall their baby pink petals as a breeze presents itself. some already settling in the brown tawny of Andy's hair, not far behind you smile at your face glossed in wonderstruck marvel. wide honey brown pools trail up the ten foot marble and ivory statue, reflecting in serenity cosmoses from the rainbows that spread from the crystal glass.

a sense of desire takes ahold of you as your slowed hands lift to trace your dark fingertips through the crinkle wrinkle of a marble maidens skirt. such detail and intricate design of the craftsman long ago must’ve took years to perfect, the cloth falling seamlessly upon the maidens body as her body crouches to run your clay hand again at the pond water. lifting your camera to your eyes, snapping your desired pictures that are set to capture all the whimsical aspects and elements that take your breath away.

Andy dares to draw near, it wasn’t like he hasn’t stood close to you at all- he might be making it hard on himself by overthinking ever move and step but you call out his name and his heart paces.

“yes y/n,” making his way to where you sit near a pond, you don’t say anything as you wrap the strap for the camera around your neck. fixing up your dress from any wrinkles from scrunching the hem up when dipping your feet in the sea earlier. checking your hair and make up in your hand mirror that you retrieved from your designer purse. an arched brow raises up at you, which you only respond by rolling your eyes and hand him the camera as you smile at yourself in the reflection of the ponds water.

“can you take a picture of me?” as you reapply another layer of gloss on your lips, the fishes swirling in the water to jump to the service to witness the beautiful nymph who have graced their pond themselves.

cupid bows perk at the fish and blow them kisses, your hands grab at a floating lotus before grasping the tender water blossom. putting it in the raven coils that delicately frame your face, damn it y/n.

it was as if you were torturing him with those mascara bambi eyes and glossy primrose lips, it makes his insides buzz and flutter like the malachite dragonfly that passes here and there.

“you telling me you want a picture or did you already decide for me yourself?” you only smack his chest with the camera once again.

“are you going to take the picture or not Barber? did you loose some of your magic with all that lawyer jumbo clouding your head or did you take those freshman photography lessons seriously?”

Andy rolls his eyes and takes the camera from you with a chuckle, “actually i’m still capable of using a camera y/l/n, god you’re making me feel old. go model for me,” you just laugh and run across to the other side of the pond.

soft skin from your legs revealed from the way your sundress lifts bends against your chest. head resting upon your knees while your arms wrap around them, the sunflower in your gasps and the lotus behind your ear. at this moment as the seconds turn into minutes Andy should be taking pictures, his eyes are looking through the lens as his index finger rests on the button.

with as much as single press he captures the greenhouse nymph but what good would a single picture do to capture every gift and grace you bestowed in the offering of your charm, beauty and heart?

it makes Andy's heart race, your eyes dashing from the godly statues that surround you to the camera. sweet music plays in deep cherry wood cellos and willow carved violins and even with the buzzing dragonfly it seems it found its favorite flower at the tip of your nose.

you certainly are the creation and waking of spring flowers and lovesick tales that took his heart then and its still yours now.

that single snapshot was all he could think about you two drove down south to the coast. searching back the drunk nights before where you and him ran into a little covelete whilst drinking goblet after goblet in the forest of olive and grape vine trees. it was a long ride but nothing suited the wait better than the man on the radio singing with his strung trichordo.

the hands that grip Andy's shoulder slide down to wrap your arms around him tightly when the minutes pass and the forest of green olives and sangiovese grapes. parking the scooter near the shrubbery of some innocent bush you and him look for the wine stash the both of you left in the abandoned cavern of an ancient olive tree. Andy grinning as he grabbed the expansive bottle and before you know it you both head to the hidden beach.

Andy didn't plan to actually go swimming, just settle the gingham blanket upon the finely grain sand and open the picnic you both prepared. and he also didn't prepare himself for the rosy blush to dawn his face when your almond nails grip the hem of your sundress to lift it up and over your head. revealing your matching bathing suit underneath its quick that you throw him a wink and race to the nearby grassy cliff.

"see you soon Barber!" you yell and as Andy gets up from the blanket to understand what you mean by that its too late. the summer air is filled with your laughter and sky rippling cheer as you jump off the cliff and dive into the cloud blue water. the splash nonexistent from your perfect swoop.

if only he had the polaroid on him to capture the way your smile gleamed brighter than the sun reflecting off the sparkling water the the way your eyes cutely scrunched like sand dollars under the warmth of golden sand.

the silver green of the olive trees emphasize the richness of your skin. the rich skin he couldn't keep his sapphires off as you laugh your choir laugh that would make Apollo cease his chariot to listen to the siren of Olympus once more. dancing in the turquoise waves of the coast, they crash against your soft mounds, curves, and dips of sun glistening hips and waist.

how could he have been so blind?

rage and anguish slosh around in his mind that pour melancholic rain onto his heart, you were there for him through thick and thin. a friend he believed but how could he have buried that yearn and longing for you all those years?

it's almost criminal to the highest degree and he'd know his side of the justice system but how could that distract him from you? his head was far too buried in those lawbooks to realize, too oblivious to his emotions when you'd date and hang around other people that weren't him. looking far into the looking glass hoping that his work would pay off in the future, meeting another woman and putting a ring on her finger.

now here he is, a divorced man but a still very much happy man. lonely at times with his only child in the custody of his ex wife but still very happy with the comfort and support of you. it was you who helped him from the tears at night and it was you who he wasn't scared to open up to. even the past few months he didn't realize it but now as you call his name to get in the water he doesn't hesitate to pull his shirt over his head and take his shoes and socks off.

joining you in the water in a mater of a few heartbeats, it was as if you were a sea spirit calling for him and even if you weren't he's happily obliging when the small waves collide against his skin. both your laughs rippling the ocean in this small ocean paradise, swimming in the richness of the present never would have guessing that throughout all these years you be here.

the salt water on your skin has dried as you and Andy walk side by side, your shoes rubbing against the gravel of the cobblestone paths as both you peer at the vendors and food stands arranging from rainbow scaled fish, fresh sesame seed breads, farm produced milks and cheeses, and vibrate fruits and vegetables. hands twined together in a firm hold, unfathomable excitement practically radiating off of you while you chat and giggle with Andy.

the topic of the conversation changing every few minutes when you find a stand that grabs your attention. curious eyes and wandering hands look over organic produce and homemade goods the people had to offer. the golden clutch of your purse being opened multiple times and Andy's mouth being stuffed with jam, cheese and fruit samples on the account of you. as you did you shopping he did as well, the ingredients for a sweet treat he had planned for you later on tonight are in a brown paper bag amongst your purchases.

of course he had to carry them all, not in obligation but because he didn’t want you to worry about shopping too much when you’re in the midst of enjoying your vacation. by all means he certainly wasn’t complaining, if anything he liked having you giddy and bursting with energy. practically dragging him from stand to stand and carrying your bags filled with stuff that you’d bring back home and try.

the village square where the marketplace takes place is tinted in an ambrosial hue, the sun now a glowing slice of grapefruit against the peachy pink carnation sky. lavender clouds that seem so close to grasp tower above you both yet they don't prevent the suns glow from capturing the beautiful soft planes of your face.

luscious and softer than the bouquet of sunflower carnations he surprised you with as you looked at the variety of sunhat options. one that you just purchased rests floppily against your temple but still doing its job at keeping you shaded from the suns glare. wrapped in a silky green bow, Andy smiles at how huge it is but it just makes you look divine and adorable in your sundress.

holding his hand tighter before tracing them up his forearm to softly grasp his bicep, it you who's leaning against him and pulling him close to you. the feeling of your body alongside his is warmer then any sunshine that seeps into his skin and lovelier than any of the flowers the market had to offer.

it’s hard to give you one excellent gift to give back all those years of commitment and loyalty and friendship but the way your lips spread in that enchanting smile it’s enough to make Andy know -despite the both of you not saying it- that you feel the same way to.

the bouquet in both your holds lifting up every once in a while for Andy to smell and for you to admire as you walk away from the noisy market. a little behind the village were the spring green of the countryside clashes within the stone brick city is a valley of flower arbors and hedge mazes. it was the last pitstop Andy the bags in both your hands settle down against the safety shadow of a maple trees shade and with a little laugh and an excited squeal he run to the flower arbors.

green rows of soft shrubbery dotted and laced in colorful blossoms stand in multiple rows upon rows look over of petunias and carnations. small apple and lemon trees in potted beds line up within the flowery hedges and no matter where you look it’s only the divination of spring and the gifts it bestows the Earth with. wooden picnic basket that was once used from your beach picnic is now empty but it’s quickly filling with the sweet smelling beauties of the flowers and fruits and you pluck.

Andy not fair behind you captures your wondering body in the still frame pictures of your polaroid camera. the pictures emerging quickly afterwards, he’s quick to fab them off and place them in your small picture album. turning your head over your shoulder your caught with Andy having the perfect opportunity to snap a picture that would be a bedtime story to tell with a child of his and yours.

it’s perfect and breathtaking, no matter the feeling of his heart thumping in its lingering hesitance you were the star that’s still continues to shine despite being out in broad daylight. it pulled at his heart strings because he knew what this feeling was, this feeling that he been avoiding to come to terms with all day but why was he so terrified?

the fear of rejection wouldn’t burst his heart but it would remind him that he was alone. a man like him wasn’t born to walk this Earth, wake to the sun and sleep with moon alone. the very presence of you besides him made him feel all the things besides lonely and bare to the universes cruelness at times. but maybe you felt the same way about him.

he only had one way to find out and he was set on keeping it, whatever sea he had to cross, valley he had to travel to and the plummeting ends to the Earth he will pronounce his love.

snapping another picture of you, you smile in it and with that he smiles to.

"realize what Andy?" you press on but in the rosy candle light his lips pressed against yours seems to be the only answer he can bring himself to conclude.

it's takes the breath out of your lungs and makes your heart blush and burn deeper and hotter than the tiny flames that decorate the cake. the roughness of his bottom lip that have been occasionally bitten the past minutes of dancing around your feelings. the nerve of you both to push aside your feelings for each other because the fear of breaking each others hearts.

if only your past selves could see you now, shedding your hearts and allowing the key to them to finally open the gates of vulnerability and yearn. the passionate lovesick mess tastes delicious against your mouths and you both could get drunk off it instead of the rose. sweet and inching for more as your lips part to graze against each other, but in order to seal the prophecy of established lovers Andy pulls away.

"that i'm in love with you. that i've always been in love with you. it's been years and i'm sorry for just realizing it now but I need to know if you feel the same way. please tell me now, please," he whispers against your lips.

now its your turn for our heart to skip beats and take in each and everyone of his words. fluttering eyes drowning in his copper blues, you open your mouth to say something but nothing but a soundless nothing comes out. all these years your love for Andy has been buried deep within you and you've tried your best to hide that seed. to plow in new seeds because what use was that seed if it never flourished when he'd feel the same way.

you don't realize until you feel the tear dripping down your cheek, he wipes it with his thumb. pressing a kiss where it once existed and it's now that you realize that it's always come to this. your lives weren't entirely paved in stone but the love that has a faith of its own is something that changes as the pages of a storybook turn.

this virtuous night being the newest chapter and as much as you're scared to follow along your heart has been waiting for this moment for so long. with those teary eyes that bring some to his own you smile and pull his face with yours, pressing your lips with his to mark your answer clear, to make him feel the way you feel.

"i've always felt the same. dear god Barber it took you twenty years and it all worked out didn't it?" you giggle against his mouth, feeling his grin as he kisses you back.

"what did you wish for?" he murmurs and you only smile and wrap your arms around his neck, "this,"

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slipping-through-my-fingertips · 3 years ago

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august

Summary: August slips away and their summer fling is going to have to end.

Notes: it’s my birthday!! To celebrate here is the august story of my folklore series

AO3

For most people, all roads lead to Rome but for one Kurt Hummel, all roads lead to the mall.

First stop: coffee.

Once Kurt had secured his iced mocha, he began his window shopping. It was just so nice to walk around the air-conditioned mall.

There were plenty of middle and high schoolers wandering around with their friends. Enjoying the freedom of summertime. Kurt was pretty happy to be able to spend his summer days at the mall; almost like a relaxing vacation if it weren’t for the fear of running into old bullies and homophobes.

His dad just wanted Kurt to work a few days a week at the garage when the staff was short but with Finn there full-time, Kurt was barely needed. So, he spent his days off running errands and wandering around the Lima Mall.

There was no way for him to get lost at the mall. One, he had become very familiar with the mall having spent many weekends with his girls from glee club here. And two, it wasn’t a very large place.

Eventually, Kurt decided to splurge by getting a cinnamon pretzel and found a bench to rest. It wasn’t long until a curly-haired boy took a seat at the other end.

Kurt wasn’t sure if he was supposed to say hello or not. They were likely the same age. Close in age and cute. While he was debating whether or not to engage with this boy, he made the first move.

“I’m Blaine.”

He’s now facing Kurt.

“Kurt.”

They smile at each other. Kurt can feel his face getting warm.

“You here alone?” Blaine asks.

“Yeah, you?”

Blaine nods. “Wanna walk together?”

Kurt holds up his half-eaten pretzel.

“Oh,” Blaine says, “that’s okay. I can just…”

Blaine moves to stand up and leave.

“No!”

It comes out louder than intended but it stops Blaine.

“I can walk and eat.”

****

They took road trips together and talked about everything except school. It was so refreshing to have something in common with another human besides McKinley High.

Blaine never said he was from Lima; Kurt suspected he wasn’t since he hadn’t seen him at school. Though, it was possible Blaine went to some private school outside of Lima. At one point, Kurt thought he might have to transfer if the bullying got too intense.

Honestly, it was just nice to have someone who understood him like Blaine did. They had so much in common from singing and acting to taste in Broadway musicals to the same favorite hate-watching shows. The only thing they seemed to disagree on was coffee.

Blaine had a strong opinion about drinking black drip coffee with a dash of cinnamon. Whereas, Kurt always got a nonfat mocha. However, they did agree hot chocolate was the superior wintertime drink to eggnog.

Blaine was willing to compromise in ways Rachel Berry never would.

So, it was no surprise to Kurt when he realized his feelings for Blaine.

Once again, Kurt Hummel was falling for a boy who wouldn’t like him back. This time it would hurt more because Blaine could like him, since he was also gay, but didn’t. Because who could love a boy like Kurt.

****

One day they were sharing a pretzel in Blaine’s car parked behind the mall as they typically did.

“Here,” he says, handing over the last piece.

Mid-chew, Blaine almost caused Kurt to choke.

“Can I kiss you?”

Kurt swallowed.

He must’ve been blushing because his face felt hot. Blaine clearly read the look on Kurt’s face as his answer and leaned forward over the center console.

The first thing Kurt noticed was that Blaine’s lips were dusted with cinnamon sugar. He swept his tongue over Blaine’s bottom lip gathering the flakes before painting Blaine’s tongue with cinnamon.

It was an intense first kiss to say the least. Kurt had always pictured a short peck as his very first but this was better. This kiss was just a few steps away from making out.

As the weeks of summer trickled by, Blaine and Kurt spent their days texting and meeting up to make out behind the mall. They’d climb into the backseat of one of their cars and for the next hour touch any skin available. If summer was good for one thing it was exposed skin.

Blaine often wore tank tops so Kurt became very familiar with the muscle tone of his arms.

Oftentimes, Blaine was the one reaching out first. Kurt found himself waiting by the phone for a text; careful to not have permanent plans in case Blaine called. He’d canceled anything to spend time with Blaine. As far as Kurt knew they only had this summer and now it was August. How many more days would he get with Blaine?

****

One late night in August, they went stargazing. Blaine had spread blankets and pillows on the hillside and managed to secure a cheap bottle of wine courtesy of his older brother. As it turns out, Blaine didn’t know much about constellations; luckily, Kurt did.

He spent loads of nights with his mom in the backyard. She told him so many myths of the sky.

Kurt shared some with Blaine, who had interlaced their fingers. Eventually their bodies were fully pressed together. Blaine was hovering over Kurt, placing kisses along his neck.

Kurt bent his head back to give Blaine more room to cover with his lips.

Then, shirts were riding up and removed. Blaine was playing with Kurt’s zipper.

“Can I?” He asked.

Kurt nodded.

“Are you sure?”

Another nod.

“I’ve never done this before,” Blaine whispers.

“Me neither.”

For two boys who have never had sex and weren’t necessarily prepared to that night, it was always going to be a little sloppy. Misplaced hands, teeth clinking against each other, and nervously checking if something was okay.

When it was over, Kurt pulled a blanket to cover them. Blaine was resting his head in between Kurt’s head and shoulder breathing him in.

“I could fall asleep so easily,” Blaine tells him.

Kurt agreed with him but he was seriously contemplating a different kind of falling.

****

Summer had to come to an end. Before Kurt realized it, he was laying out an outfit for the first day of school. He and Blaine never did have a conversation about what was going to happen to them after summer vacation. In fact, Kurt hadn’t heard from Blaine in a few days.

He texted but went to bed without a reply.

Meanwhile, Blaine was wide awake in his own bed. He stared at the unopened text from Kurt on his phone. He could text back but he didn’t know what to say.

Sorry, I’m moving schools tomorrow.

Sorry, I lied to you all summer.

Sorry, I’m not the person you think I am.

Every single message his brain could conjure up began with an apology.

In the end, Blaine ran out of time to text him back. From a restless sleep to breakfast to rushing to get to his new school on time, he was almost able to believe Kurt hadn’t texted him at all.

As Blaine introduced himself for the first time, his eyes caught sight of people passing the door; stranglers being tardy to their first class of the day. Every person in his peripheral vision made his insides jump. They all looked like Kurt.

Except, Kurt wasn’t here. Kurt could never be here. Whatever he and Blaine had over the summer was just that—a summer thing

Blaine never thought of himself as the type for flings but Kurt was different. He’d take any time he could have with him. If three months was all he had then that was okay. He knew this last summer would stick with him for a long time.

When he closed his eyes, he was staring at Kurt’s blue ones. He could feel Kurt’s fingers dancing along his naked back with the stars watching them.

Luckily, the classes seemed to be taking it easy on the students. Going over the class schedules, future projects, and what percentage of their grade was exams and quizzes. Of course, Blaine played plenty of those ice breakers and get-to-know-you exercises.

He loved those.

By the time lunch rolled around, Blaine even had someone to sit with in the cafeteria. A nice girl named Tina sat near him in history and offered him a spot at her normal table. Blaine had mentioned wanting to join the glee club and she bounced up to him after class.

“New Directions always needs members. Sit with us at lunch and we can give you pointers for your audition.”

He met Mike, Tina’s boyfriend, Quinn, head cheerleader, and Mercedes, second lead female soloist of glee. Rachel Berry soon joined the table and sized Blaine up. She had lots of questions about his range, experience, and if he was a spy. Her boyfriend, Finn, seemed suspicious of Blaine as well. Blaine was familiar with Finn’s concerns.

The pointed glares and scowl were markers of a jealous boyfriend. Finn wasn’t worried about Blaine becoming first male lead, he didn’t want Blaine to pursue a relationship with Rachel.

This was not the first time Blaine was being mistaken for your token straight guy.

The table just kept growing. People pushing tables together and pulling empty seats. A Mohawk boy called Puck was asking Blaine about sports he liked (mainly college football) when two more cheerleaders joined them.

Brittany, the blonde, was intrigued by a new student. She had some record to keep up and asked if he wanted to sneak off somewhere to help her with it. He declined. The other, Santana, was too busy waving to someone in the distance to really notice Blaine at all.

“Porcelain, finally,” Santana says, patting the seat beside her. “Meet New Kid.”

“It’s Blaine actually,” Rachel corrected.

The boy, Porcelain, sat down and looked over at Blaine. Their eyes met and instantly widened.

“I’m Kurt,” he says.

“Hi, Kurt.” Blaine watched the boy of his dreams swallow hard. “Blaine, it’s nice to meet you.”

Lunch continued and no one seemed the wiser. Why would the New Directions assume the New Kid in town had already met their beloved Kurt Hummel? No one's first instinct would be that these two boys shyly watching each other would be “they spent the summer hooking up behind the mall.” Well, technically making out at the mall and hooking up in the park, just that one night.

Blaine tried to participate in conversation so as to not raise suspicion that he was staring at Kurt’s lips, which he was completely guilty of.

Once the glee kids started talking about a disaster of a party Rachel once threw, Blaine is able to tune them out in favor of his summer memories.

Sitting in the dark movie theater and bumping hands with Kurt as they reached for popcorn at the same time. Reaching over, buttered fingers and all, to grab for Kurt’s hand. Being able to catch a glimpse of Kurt’s smile as the movie flashed in front of them.

Lost in his daydream, Blaine didn’t hear the bell ring until Kurt tapped his hand, which was stretched out almost in the middle of the table.

“Hey, time to get to class,” Kurt tells him, “walk with me?”

“Okay.” Blaine gathered his books and trash.

“Where to?” Kurt asks.

“Crafts actually.”

“Oh, that’s just down the hall here.” Kurt guides them through the crowds. “Thanks for not spilling everything to them today.”

“What do you mean?”

“Our summer together.” Kurt’s blushing. “It was special.”

“To me too,” Blaine assures. “I wouldn’t have said anything to them. I don’t really know those guys yet. I’m new remember?”

Kurt nods. “Not new to me though.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Blaine chuckles.

They reach Blaine’s art classroom.

“I’ll see you in glee club,” Kurt says.

“Okay.”

Blaine only lets Kurt take a few steps before he’s touching his hand. “Wait.”

Kurt is staring at their joined hands and examining the hallway before meeting Blaine’s eyes. No one else is paying them any attention.

There are so many words Blaine wants to say to Kurt.

Be with me. Please. Be mine.

Don’t leave. Don’t slip away.

Stay, stay, stay.

Instead, he steps closer to Kurt and cups his face with his other hand. Kurt leans into the touch. Blaine gives the hallway one last look but it’s almost empty. The late bell will ring soon so he can’t waste any more time.

Blaine leans forward and pecks Kurt.

“Please,” he murmurs, against his lips.

Not even sure what he’s asking Kurt for exactly. Kurt seems to know what he means without needing more information or clearer words than a simple ‘please.’

Kurt drops Blaine’s hand and pulls their bodies close together and opens Blaine’s mouth with his tongue.

There’s a bell ringing, which Blaine thinks must be his own form of fireworks.

“If you two are quite done, there’s a class happening,” Blaine’s crafts teacher tells them.

They pull apart instantly, red in the face from being scolded, Kurt hurries off to his own class. Blaine does another round of introductions and can’t remember anyone’s name but Kurt Hummel.

#klaine fanfic #klaine fanfiction #klaine #my fics #folklore seires

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lunasquared · 4 years ago

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Protect the Ones You Love (Save Them From the Hurt)

By @lost-lunar-wolf for @potts89 ( @friendly-neighborhood-exchange)

Rating: Teen and Up

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Pepper Potts, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts

Summary:

“Peter, Tony seems like a really nice guy, we’ve been talking for weeks now-”

“You’ve been talking for weeks? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Pete,” Virginia sighed, resting her hands on Peter’s shoulders and looking him in the eye. “I wasn’t sure if it was even going to go anywhere."

After starting a new life and opening a cafe in New York, Peter gets a little worried and protective when his mom starts dating again. If only Tony didn't seem so dang perfect.

AO3 Link

Living in the city was very different from living in other places. Peter knew that very well even though for most of his life he had lived in the city. Before living in the city he and his mom had moved around a bit while he was younger before finally settling down in New York City after some particularly rough years.

Even for him and his mom living in the city was different for them than it was for others because many people worked some sort of corporate job while his mom opened and ran a small cafe only a few blocks from Grand Central called Caffè e Dolci. It was a small hole in the wall type place on the outside but the inside was a good size filled with lots of seating and had different plants hanging around with vines that framed the windows and pictures. Peter’s favorites were the Queen Marble Pothos that framed the picture of Venice Italy.

Overall though, the cafe did pretty well. In the mornings there was a rush as people made their way to work then it slowed down a bit then picked up again around lunch time then from there the cafe was typically on the slower side until closing. Though on weekdays Peter was never there for the lunch rush or part of the morning rush because of school. But after school and on weekends Peter would always work in the cafe to help his mom. He enjoyed helping his mom in the cafe, it meant he got to bake almost all the time and make coffees and different drinks and secretly snack on some of the foods he baked and it also meant he got to spend time with his mom. It was enjoyable to say the least. A lot of work yes, but enjoyable overall.

Typically after work for the day, Peter and his mom would head upstairs to their small apartment above the cafe and have dinner together before Peter started on his homework. It was nothing big or fancy, but it was enough for him and his mom and Peter couldn’t ask for anything more.

But that was a typical day, and today was not a typical day. It was a change in their routine and Peter didn’t like change.

“Wait you’re going on a date?” Peter clarified after his mom had said she was going out with someone.

“I guess it’s a date.” Virginia said, pulling her hair out of its tight bun as she and Peter walked up to the apartment.

“Mom are you sure that’s a good idea?” Peter pressed slightly.

He was worried to say the least. Maybe it was just him being over protective of his mom but-

“Peter, Tony seems like a really nice guy, we’ve been talking for weeks now-”

“You’ve been talking for weeks? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Pete,” Virginia sighed, resting her hands on Peter’s shoulders and looking him in the eye. “I wasn’t sure if it was even going to go anywhere. Tony’s a regular, he normally comes in right after the lunch rush and we just— I don’t know, we hit it off and today he asked if I wanted to go to dinner with him and I said yes because he seems like a very genuine guy and I like him.”

“I’m happy for you mom. I just, I don’t want you to get hurt again. It was-”

“I know Peter, but I don’t think Tony is like that. I wouldn’t have said yes if I had any doubt. I’ll give you the restaurant address and I’ll share my location with you so you can make sure I’m okay if that would make you feel better.” Virginia laughed ruffling Peter’s hair. “Heck if you’re that worried I’ll even let you sit across the street to spy on us if you want.”

“Do you want me to?” Peter questioned.

“No, but if that’s what it will take to make sure you’re not sitting here pacing a hole in the floor then that’s what you’ll do.”

“It’s okay. I’ll be fine here, just, yeah restaurant address and stuff.”

“I love you Peter.” Virginia said softly, placing a light kiss on Peter’s forehead.

“I love you too mom, now go get ready for your date.”

***

Just because Peter didn’t spy on his mom's date, did not mean he wasn’t worried out of his mind. The entire time she was gone Peter was on the couch, not pacing a hole in the floor per his mothers request, with his phone next to him open with her location. Peter didn’t officially meet the guy, Tony apparently, before they left, but he did catch a glimpse of him out the window and okay Tony did look like a nice guy and he gave his mom a small bouquet of orchids, which are her favorite but not important, but what is important is that his mom did look happy and the guy looked equally as happy if not even a little shy.

But aside from his worry, Peter did manage to get his homework done, but having nothing to do meant he was sitting with his phone constantly refreshing the location to make sure everything was okay. He tried watching a movie, but that failed miserably as he didn’t pay any attention to the tv screen at all. By the end of the night Peter did end up pacing around the apartment until he heard the lock turn around 11:30 and he stopped in his tracks, his eyes fixated on the door until his mom walked inside and locked the door behind her.

“So?” Peter questioned taking notice of his mom’s expression slightly worried by the unreadable look until she broke out into a smile.

“It was really good. We’re gonna go out again sometime soon.”

“And he’s nice?”

“Really nice.” She confirmed placing the small bouquet of orchids in a vase.

“I’m happy for you mom. I really hope it goes well for you.”

“Thanks Peter. I’m happy too.” Virginia smiled and pulled her kid into a hug. “Now bedtime, we have to get up early tomorrow if you wanna make those chocolate croissants you were talking about before school.”

***

Virginia and Tony had been going out for a few months now and Peter was happy for them, he really was. His mom was happier than he had seen her in a long time and the few times he had seen Tony, he seemed like a good guy. But the only problem was Peter hadn’t really met him. He knew they were taking their relationship kind of slow, which wasn’t an issue at all, but Peter did want to meet the guy before— well before things went on longer and he could know if Tony was actually a good guy or not. And well he also kind of wanted to meet the guy that was kind of taking time away from him and his mom. Peter knew he couldn’t complain, he still got his mom in the mornings and most days after school, but it was starting to become more of a regular thing for his mom to go out with Tony at night instead of hanging out with him. But he would never tell his mom that. She’s happy and it’s not like Peter doesn’t get anytime with her at all, he’s just being selfish that’s all.

“Peter!” Virginia called when Peter walked into the cafe after school.

“Hey mom, what’s up?” Peter greeted giving his mom a quick hug before setting his stuff down behind the counter and tying an apron around his waist so he could start prepping some of the bakery items for the next day. Typically he would just get up a little early in the mornings before school to prep everything for the day, but on the weekends they tended to have larger crowds so Peter liked to have some stuff ready the night before so he could bake it in the morning and help his mom out a bit more on the floor rather than being in the kitchen the whole time baking.

“So you know how Tony and I have been going out for a few months now.” Virginia started, and helped Peter pull out some of the ingredients she knew he would need. “Well I was thinking that it might be a good time for you to meet him.”

“Yeah, I think that would be good.” Peter agreed. “When were you thinking?”

“Tonight?”

“I mean- yeah that’s fine, I have a little homework that I want to get done tonight, but that’s fine, I can probably finish beforehand.”

“You sure tonight is okay?” Virginia questioned. “Because I can tell him we have to reschedule.”

Peter nodded. “Yeah tonight’s fine, worst case I do some of my homework over the weekend.”

“Okay well, he’ll be here around 6:30-7.” Virginia said and pressed a light kiss to Peter’s temple. “I’m excited for you to meet him.”

“Yeah me too.”

***

Right as Peter finished up his homework he heard a knock on the door knowing it was Tony. Part of him was glad that they weren’t going out, but at the same time Peter wasn’t too fond of having a stranger in their apartment. And while technically Tony wasn’t a stranger to his mom he was to Peter. He didn’t like strangers in his home, but he guessed that it was better than going out or going to Tony’s place.

He heard talking in the kitchen which let him know that his mom had let Tony in but there was no way-

“Peter, come on out to meet Tony!” His mom called, and that was what he was waiting for, to be told to come out and not go on his own.

There was no other reason for that other than he didn’t want to seem anxious or eager to meet Tony. He was, but he didn’t want Tony knowing that.

Peter walked out of his room and into the kitchen trying his best to conceal his anxiousness, though he knew it showed in the fidgeting in his hands — he wasn’t really sure what else to do with them.

“Hi.” Peter greeted with a little wave when he got to the kitchen. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to finally meet you as well.” Tony said, offering his hand for Peter to shake which he accepted. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“All good things I hope.” Peter said with a little chuckle.

“I can assure they were.”

“That’s good to hear, I’ve heard very little about you.”

“Oh?” Tony questioned.

“Just a few things, nothing like my mom was dating Tony Stark or anything.” Peter said with a glance over to his mom who just smiled and shrugged.

“I guess it never really came up.” Virginia laughed. “Well dinner is ready if you guys are ready to eat. We’ve got spaghetti aglio e olio and garlic bread.”

“Thank you for cooking. I bet it will be delicious.” Tony said following Peter’s lead of sitting down at the table.

Tony got lucky he didn’t sit in Virginia's spot.

“Thanks mom.” Peter said as his mom sat down at the table bringing the large bowl of pasta with her.

For the most part dinner went smoothly, it wasn’t nearly as awkward as Peter was expecting it to be. He was also proud and somewhat surprised of himself that he wasn’t freaking out over the fact that Tony freaking Stark was sitting at his table eating dinner with him and his mom. Here Tony seemed like just a normal guy not the one that was always shown on TV. But just because it was Tony Stark did not mean Peter still wasn’t worried about his mom. Of course he was she’s his mom, and he wanted to protect her and make sure no one hurt her, even if he knew she could take care of herself. To an extent he was still a bit wary of Tony. He knew a bit about Tony’s past, though that was his past, and Peter had noticed in the more recent years that wasn’t who Tony was anymore, and he knew people could change, so he wouldn’t judge Tony for that.

All of that aside, Peter was a little upset his mom hadn’t told him more about Tony. It wasn’t that his mom was required to tell him everything there was to know about Tony, heck he didn’t expect her to. But his mom barely talked about him to the point where Peter knew they were together because they would go out a couple times a week, but Peter knew little to nothing about the guy. Virginia was happy and honestly that was all Peter cared about, but he wished that his mom had told him a little more about Tony.

“So Peter, are you enjoying school?” Tony asked, and Peter panicked a little as he was mid chew but Tony kept going which made him relax slightly. “You’re mom said you were going to Midtown tech, that’s a really great school.”

Peter nodded as he swallowed his food. “Yeah I enjoy it. It’s a bit — I don’t know-” He trailed off trying to think of the right word.

“Hard?” Tony supplied questioningly.

“More like boring.” Peter settled on.

“Oh?”

Peter only shrugged and took another bite of pasta.

“Peter is at the top of all of his classes.” Virginia supplied with a proud smile in Peter’s direction.

Peter ducked his head at the praise. “I usually already know what they are teaching and if not I tend to pick up on it pretty fast. Top of the class isn’t that big of a deal.”

“Not that big of a deal?” Tony raised an eyebrow. “Kid that’s amazing! That’s a hard spot to get, it takes a lot of effort to get there.”

Peter only shrugged, he had never been the best at accepting compliments of any sort. “I mean — I don’t know — I’m not really interested in a lot of the stuff they teach. I prefer chemistry and robotics and engineering type stuff. Yeah we have a robotics club at school and I’m taking chemistry, but like I said I already know most of that stuff so it’s a little boring.”

“Pepper, your kid is a genius!” Tony exclaimed.

Peter shot a questioning glance between Tony and his mom. “Who’s Pepper?” Peter asked, making no effort to hide the sass or maybe it was disapproval? In his voice.

“Peter.” Virginia said sternly, immediately making Peter back down. “It’s a nickname, it’s not a big deal.”

“But-” Peter started before cutting himself off when his mom gave a slight head tilt and eyebrow raise, he knew it was irrational to be upset over something like a nickname, but part of him felt like maybe he was trying to find something to not like Tony over. He seemed to… nice. Too nice. Too good to be true. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Tony assured. “Giving people nicknames is just something I do. I can stop if you don’t like it.”

This guy would be the death of Peter! He was too nice! There had to be something wrong! They were never this nice and had no baggage. Something always went wrong if they were this nice.

“No it’s all good. I’m just not used to people giving my mom nicknames that’s all.”

There was an awkward silence for a few moments and Peter internally cursed at himself and balled his hands into fists for causing it. Of course he would be the one to mess it up. He was so focused on trying to find something about Tony that wasn’t good and protecting his mom, he forgot that his mom was actually happy.

“Peter,” Virginia said, breaking the silence. “Tony was telling me the other day about some of the stuff he’s working on. I think you’d find it interesting.” She shifted her attention to Tony. “As long as you’re able to share.”

Tony nodded eagerly. “Yeah so right now I’m working on a Binarily Retro-Framing type thing — holographs if you will — but I’m currently working on transforming its usage for therapeutic purposes.”

“Was that not its intention?” Peter questioned.

“Yes and no. That was my original intention for it, however one of the technicians working on the prototype was trying to have it be used for something else. I can’t go into much more detail, but long story short they were found to be unfit to continue working on the project and other projects and were laid off.”

“Are you trying to make it into like a trauma therapy of sorts?”

“Exactly. I’m still working out some of the major issues, but it’s usable. I’m mainly trying to ensure that when it comes to actually using it for trauma, it’s completely safe and the person using it understands that as well. It basically hijacks your hippocampus which isn’t the most fun experience, so I’m working on ensuring it doesn’t tap into the brain too much while it’s still doing its job. Right now it’s glitching so you can’t choose the memory it plays. You can typically get out of it easily by yourself and still be aware it’s a memory, but the problem is you don’t know what it will be until it forms and that’s a big problem.”

“Yeah that makes sense.” Peter agreed with a nod. “You want to make sure it gets into the hippocampus enough to pull a specific memory and be able to live through it, while still being aware it isn’t real and having enough awareness within that to get out whenever needed.”

“Precisely.” Tony confirmed. “You should come over sometime to check it out. Heck maybe you’d be able figure out some of the parts I’m struggling with.”

“That- that sounds fun. Mom is that okay?”

“Yeah that’s perfectly fine.” Virginia agreed. “Tony is there a day that works well for you?”

“I’d have to check to be completely sure, but I’m pretty sure I'm free next Wednesday.”

“I guess it works out that you don’t have anything after school on Wednesday.” Virginia smiled at Peter. “That work for you?”

“Y-yeah that’s good.”

“Is it okay if I have Happy pick him up from school on Wednesday then?” Tony asked. “I would feel bad if he had to take the subway, or if not I could grab him if you wanted.”

“Happy can grab him, that's fine.”

“Uh who’s Happy?” Peter questioned looking between the two adults.

“Happy is my driver and bodyguard.” Tony answered.

“Wait does that mean-”

“No, I drove here, so he’s doing whatever he does on his off time. Happy mainly drives me to events or more high profile type things.” Tony explained.

Peter nodded. That made sense, well kinda, it really didn’t, but then again Peter had never known someone who had a driver or bodyguard.

The rest of dinner went smoothly. Peter got to learn a little bit more about how his mom and Tony met and how that led to dating. It was all kinda lovey dovey mushy stuff that Peter was sure they were exaggerating on just to make him uncomfortable, but he was happy for them. They seemed happy together and Peter liked seeing his mom happy. He hadn’t seen her this happy in a long time.

***

Wednesday couldn’t come fast enough and now that it was here Peter couldn’t seem to shake off the nerves. He was going to Tony freaking Stark’s lab, which is the coolest thing he’s ever done in his life. And well technically he hasn’t done that yet as he was outside of his school waiting for this Happy person to pick him up. Both Pepper and Tony had told him to look for a larger guy in a suit driving a black Audi.

Peter was brought out of his thoughts when he heard a horn honk and saw a guy step out of black Audi and make eye contact with Peter.

“Are you Pepper’s kid?” The man, who Peter assumed was Happy, who didn’t look very happy, asked.

“Uh yeah.” Peter answered slightly cringing at the nickname for his mom. “Yeah, I’m Virginia’s kid.”

“Tony said he’ll meet us at the Tower, he’s finishing up a meeting so…” Happy trailed off and nodded towards the car and Peter took that as a sign to get in.

Peter got in the back seat and went to introduce himself a bit better to Happy, but the man put up the divider between them and Peter sunk down in his seat. The ride to the tower was uneventful and Happy didn’t roll down the divider at all. For a man who’s name (nickname?) is Happy he doesn’t seem very happy Peter decided.

When they arrived at the Tower Peter got out of the back seat and thanked Happy when he rolled down the window.

“Will Tony meet me down here?” Peter asked before Happy could roll up the window.

“Yeah Tony should be down in a minute.” Happy answered rolling up the window before Peter could say anything else.

As if on cue the elevator behind Peter dinged and the kid spun around right in time to see Tony walk out.

“Hey kid!” Tony greeted. “Ready to head up?”

“Y-yeah I’m ready.” Peter replied following Tony back into the elevator. “Is Happy always like that?”

“Like what?”

“Not happy?”

“Ah,” Tony nodded in understanding. “He’s like that until you get to know him so don’t take it personally. I promise he’s not always like that.”

“It’s okay, I just thought I may have done something wrong.”

The rest of the elevator ride was filled with silence that Peter was sure he was making awkward as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet with his hands fidgeting behind his back. Peter wasn’t sure what type of lab he was expecting when the elevator doors opened but it sure as heck wasn’t what he saw before him. He slowly trailed behind Tony as the man walked out of the elevator and put in a code that opened a sliding glass door that led into the lab.

Peter stood in the entryway of the lab his eyes wide and his mouth slightly hung open as he took in the sight before him. The lab was huge, filled with machines Peter could have only dreamed of ever seeing. There were holographs scattered in different places, that Peter could only assume were part of projects Tony was working on. In one corner there were a few bots that were beeping excitedly at the sight of Tony and in the other was a half taken apart car. The whole thing was such a dream for Peter. He never in his life thought he would one day see a lab as advanced as this let alone a lab much bigger than his small corner in his room where he worked on projects he pulled from dumpsters.

“Like it kid?” Tony asked with a small chuckle as he pat one of the bots on the claw.

“This is amazing.” Peter breathed taking a few cautious steps further into the lab.

“Yeah it’s pretty amazing.” Tony laughed coming back towards Peter and away from the bots. “You wanna see something cool?”

Peter only nodded still too in shock to get many words out.

“Jarvis?” Tony said with a glint in his voice that Peter had never heard before and a smile on his face that was similar, yet very different, from the one Tony had around his mom.

“Welcome back sir.” A voice with a british accent said and Peter looked up to the ceiling trying to figure out where the voice was coming from. “And welcome Peter, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Uh you too?” Peter said back questionably before looking over to Tony. “What is that and how does he know my name?”

“That’s Jarvis, he’s an AI,” Tony explained. “He runs the lab and the entire tower and he knows everything.”

“And what exactly does he do?”

“He does pretty much anything. Here he helps me run different diagnostics for whatever I’m working on to make sure it doesn’t blow up, and other times he’s just someone to talk to. Obviously he does a lot more than just those things but that does sum it up pretty well.”

“That’s so cool! Does Jarvis help you with your Binarily Retro-Framing thing?” Peter asked.

“Yeah, so how it works is— actually I think it would make more sense if I showed you what I’m talking about while explaining.” Tony started walking and motioned for Peter to follow him. “So over here I have a room that is dedicated to B.A.R.F.-”

“B.A.R.F.?” Peter questioned internally cursing at himself for cutting Tony off. “Sorry.”

“No apologies, it's a valid question.” Tony assured. “B.A.R.F. or Binarily Augmented Retro-Framing, and yes I know I need to work on that acronym, but that’s what I’m calling it for now. Anyways I have a room dedicated to it because of how it works.”

Tony opened a door at the other end of the lab and Peter followed him inside. It was a simple square room with a small cut out section with glass that allowed one to see to the rest of the room.

“Why a room like this?” Peter asked.

“It uses drones to project the memory into the room.” Tony explained. “With a set up like this, it helps contain everything and it ensures that nothing gets destroyed anywhere else in case the person using it starts to panic and it also makes sure a second person who is helping with controls doesn’t get hurt and can shut it down if needed.”

“That’s smart. Having like a backup thing.” Peter said half not paying attention as he took a glance over some of the controls. “So how exactly does it work?”

“Like I said it uses drones to project the memory, but you use a special pair of glasses that I created to actually access that memory through the hippocampus. Once the memory is accessed, the glasses and drones are linked and the drones will project it. Then the controls you see here,” Tony gestured to the control panel that Peter was studying before. “These are for the outside person to manually control the drones if needed. It can shut them off or rewind the memory or go to a different part, things like that.”

“That’s amazing that you can even do something like this. But you said you were having some problems with the memory access?”

“Kind of. Since dinner when I was telling you about it I got it working a little better where you can choose the type of memory, but from there you can’t choose a specific one, which is still an issue.”

“And being able to get out of that memory?” Peter asked.

“That part is working great now. As long as the person is aware they are not actually in that situation and are experiencing it through B.A.R.F. they can shut it down easily by themselves. Even if they aren’t completely aware, by taking off the glasses it shuts down the system.”

“That-” Peter trailed off his hands ghosting over the controls before turning back to face Tony who was standing in the doorway with his hands in his pockets watching Peter. “Sorry I’m just- this is insane, I’m just trying to process it all.”

“You’re alright kid, take your time, it is a lot to process.”

Peter looked over the controls and at some of the drones for the next few minutes before turning back to Tony. “How exactly are you fixing the memory override thing?”

“Ah yes that part, here I can show you what I’m attempting to do back in the main part of the lab.” Tony said, pushing off of the wall and going back out into the main part of the lab making sure Peter was following him before going all the way.

The two sat down at one of the desks with a computer screen and a few holograms around. Tony typed a few commands into the computer before grabbing one of the holograms and moving it between him and Peter.

“So this is the brain obviously.” Tony said gesturing to the hologram.

For the next, who knows how long because Peter stopped paying attention to time too entranced in what Tony was explaining, Tony explained to Peter where exactly the problem was, the tactics he had tried to fix it with, and how he was planning on fixing it now.

“The problem is, I’m not sure if that will work or not.” Tony finished.

Peter turned the hologram a little before taking a quick glance at the screen with Tony’s newest plans calculations on it.

“It looks like it should work because you’re toning down that electrical signal which should allow for more localized control.” Peter shrugged and pushed the holograph closer to Tony. “Then again I’m not an expert in neurology so that could be totally wrong.”

Tony laughed as he caught the hologram. “Me too kid, which is why I’m having problems with it. Jarvis is saying what you’re saying and what I was thinking so hopefully it will work.”

“Can I try it?” Peter asked a little cautiously unsure if he was crossing any lines by asking.

“Are you comfortable trying it?” Tony questioned. “Because I’m fine with you trying it, I just want to make sure you actually want to.”

“Yeah, I think with this implementation, then me trying it, I might have a better understanding of how it actually works and can be a bit more helpful.”

“As long as you’re sure, kid, then let’s get you set up.”

After the two of them ensured the update on the system was complete, Peter followed Tony into the B.A.R.F room and put on the glasses that Tony handed him then stood in the middle of the room while Tony was by the control panel.

“Just think of a happy memory or something kid, then it should start to form around you.” Tony said.

Peter closed his eyes and tried to focus on a good memory of him and his mom in the cafe. When Peter opened his eyes he wasn’t standing in the cafe though, he was in an old apartment he and his mom had in another state. From the looks of it though and from Peter’s memory it was a good memory.

In the middle of the room was a table where Peter and his mom both sat smiling at the chess game they were playing. Peter was younger here, 8 at the oldest. He was winning the game, like he almost always did and was getting ready to move the last piece before he won.

“Checkmate!” Little Peter said watching his mom laugh and reach across the table to shake his hand.

“Great win Peter!” Virginia said reaching across the table further to ruffle Peter’s hair.

“Mom!” Little Peter whined attempting to duck away from the assault on his hair.

“Dinner’s ready.” A new voice said as a guy about 6 feet tall with light brown hair walked into the room.

The new voice scared little Peter and he jumped back scattering the chess pieces across the floor in the process. The fear on little Peter’s face as he looked up towards the guy was the last thing Peter saw before he ripped the glasses off his face and stormed out of the room pressing the heel of his palms into his eyes as he paced through the lab trying to get the memory that resurfaced out of his head. Even though B.A.R.F. didn’t show the ending, it played clear as day in Peter’s head.

“Peter?” He heard Tony ask cautiously.

Peter pulled his hands away from his eyes and balled them into fists at his side. “Why do you think it’s just me and my mom huh? It’s better when it’s just us, it’s always been better that way. Then- then you just show up here all perfect nice guy billionaire and act all- just act too perfect. They always started like that you know, always. They were always too nice, then they turned to shit. And- and all you’re gonna end up doing is hurting my mom, that’s what they always do and I won’t let that happen again. I won’t let her get hurt, I won’t let you hurt her.”

Peter didn’t wait for a response from Tony and stormed out of the lab. He didn’t care that he and Tony had a good time in the lab beforehand, Tony would hurt his mom and he wouldn’t allow that to happen.

***

When Peter got back from the Tower it was almost 9 o’clock. The cafe had long since closed and he was dreading having to go inside his apartment and face his mom. Maybe it was slightly irrational to think Tony was like every other guy, but at the same time he couldn’t shake that ‘what if’ thought from his head. Maybe he had overreacted a little, but he was panicked and that memory brought up too many unwanted emotions for him to have any clear thought of what he was saying at the time. He was sure that after he left the Tower, Tony would have called his mom and he knew his mom would probably try to talk to him about it, hence the dread of going into his apartment. With a deep breath knowing he would have to face his mom eventually, Peter opened the apartment door and to no surprise his mom was waiting for him at the kitchen table with a serious, yet soft, look on her face.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” Virginia asked nodding to the seat across from her at the table.

Knowing there was no way Peter was going to get out of this he sighed and set his backpack down near the door. “I’ll get the hot chocolate.”

***

“And that’s when I left.” Peter finished explaining what happened at the Tower to his mom.

“Tony called me right after you left, you know.” Virginia said, taking a small sip from her mug. “He was worried about you, said you seemed really upset, he wasn’t sure how much was actually directed at him and how much was just stuff you needed to get off your chest.”

“He’s nice, ya know?” Peter said, dropping his head into his hands. “He really is nice, and I want to believe that, I do. He welcomed you into his life, then me, and he makes you happy, heck he invited me to his lab and we got to talk science for hours, I doubt he does that we just anyone and I- I don’t know- he’s nice, but he’s too nice- and that sounds ungrateful, but-”

“But you don’t want a repeat of what happened last time.” Virginia finished reaching across the table gently taking Peter’s hand into her own. “Neither of us want a repeat of last time Peter. I know Tony being in our lives has been different, and I know you just met him, but he isn’t like the others Peter-”

“How do you know that?!” Peter exclaimed, running his hands through his hair pulling his hand away from his mom’s in the process. He took a deep breath and lowered his voice to a more reasonable level knowing that raising his voice would get him nowhere. “How do you know he won’t end up like the others? He’s nice, and he’s kind, and-”

“Do you want me to be honest with you Peter?” Virginia asked cutting Peter off, for which Peter was honestly thankful for, he wasn’t sure if he could have stopped his ramble otherwise, so he nodded. “I don’t know that he won’t be like the others, but what I do know is that none of the signs are there. I know that I don’t get this little voice in the back of my head telling me something is wrong. I know that from whatever life of his we see on TV and the life of his that he has shared with me, that he worked his hardest to become a better person and he still is working to be better. So yeah Peter, I don’t know that he won’t end up like the others, but sometimes, sometimes you have to take a risk, and this one is one I’m willing to take. I’m happy Peter, but I’m only happy if you’re happy. I’m not saying you don’t have to be cautious of him, you have every right to be. I’m not even saying you have to like him right off the bat, but I am asking that you at least try to get to know Tony. And if you actually try and you don’t like him because of a bad feeling then we’ll go from there, but for now can you please try?”

Peter rubbed his eyes and nodded. “Yeah- yeah I can try mom. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize Peter, it's okay.”

“I love you mom, I just don’t want to see you hurt again.”

“I know Peter, I love you too.” Virginia said before standing up and pressing a kiss to Peter’s forehead. “Now go get ready for bed, you’ve got some muffins to prep in the morning.”

***

It was over a week before Peter saw Tony again. Then again he wasn’t actively avoiding him; it was just slightly consciously avoiding him, like making sure he was already in bed when his mom and Tony got back from their date on Friday and making sure he stayed in his room until Tony left Saturday morning. (Which Tony staying the night was a new thing and he wasn’t sure how he was feeling about that, but that’s a thing for a different time). But what he was not expecting was to see Tony in his apartment after school the next Friday drinking a cup of coffee at his kitchen table.

“Uh hi.” Peter greeted closing the door behind him as he took calculated steps into the apartment. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“Sorry, Pep- uh Virginia was finishing up a few things downstairs and said I could come up here because the one of the board members called and-”

“It’s okay, as long as my mom said it’s fine then it’s fine, you don’t have to explain yourself.” Peter said, setting his backpack down by the table before going to the kitchen to grab a glass of water.

“Peter,” Tony said as Peter stepped out of the kitchen and back towards the table. “Can we talk?”

“Yeah, we probably should.” Peter replied sitting down at the table across from Tony.

“Look Peter, I’m sorry-”

“No, don't apologize.” Peter said cutting Tony off. “You don’t have to apologize for doing nothing wrong. I’m sorry for storming out the other day and for kind of blowing up on you. It’s just- look it was hard for us for a few years after that and I know at least for me there’s somethings I haven’t gotten over yet. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I know you mean well and I can see you make my mom happy it’s just- I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, you know? Like it’s all so good, what’s gonna go wrong, because something always goes wrong, and I don’t want it to be that my mom gets hurt, because I don’t know if I can see her hurt again.”

“Peter I’m not saying I understand, because I don’t, but I do hear what you are saying and it makes sense why you would be extremely protective of your mom and wary of me. Those feelings are completely valid. I’m not going to hurt your mom and I’m not going to hurt you, I can promise you that. I doubt you’ll believe that, but I’m still going to say it. I know I’ve only been seeing Virginia for a few months, but I really like her and I can see this going somewhere farther. I’m not saying it will anytime soon, but I think you get the point. I can’t promise much for the future other than what I already have, but if you’re willing I’d like to get to know you as well Peter, because from the looks of it we’re gonna be in each others lives and I don’t know about you, but I don’t want it to be like walking on eggshells all the time, so what do you say? We try again and get to know each other?”

Peter nodded and let out a small chuckle. “Yeah that- that sounds good. You’re right I don’t completely believe you when you say you can promise that, but I’ll hold you to that so take this warning as you will, you hurt my mom and I make no promises of what I will or will not do after that.”

“Peter if I ever do anything that remotely hurts your mom you have full permission to punch me in the face as hard as you can.”

“You say that now Tony, but I won’t hesitate.”

“Good, I don’t want you too.” Tony stuck his hand out across the table. “Truce?”

“Truce.” Peter said, reaching out and shaking Tony’s hand. “So do you want to see this old record player I’m fixing up while we wait for my mom?”

***

Peter wasn’t sure how long he and Tony were working on the record player for when Virginia came upstairs, but they were both nose deep in it and she scared the crap out of both of them when she came into the apartment.

“What are you guys doing?” Virginia asked her eyes flicking between Peter, Tony, and the record player.

“I was showing Tony the record player that I found the other day and he was helping me fix it.” Peter explained.

“So I take it that you two talked then.”

“Yeah we did, we’re good now.”

“That’s good.” Virginia said setting her stuff down on the counter. “So I take it, it would be okay if Tony stayed for dinner then.”

“I mean sure, but that’s not up to me.” Peter replied, glancing over to Tony.

“If you want me to stay then I’ll stay.” Tony replied.

“Alright then, how about we order some Chinese food and play a game while we wait?”

“Sounds good.” Peter and Tony both replied.

“I’m picking the game!” Peter exclaimed, shooting up from his seat and running off to grab a game.

“You two okay now?” Virginia asked Tony now that Peter was out of ear shot for a moment.

“Yeah we’re okay now. I don’t think we ever weren’t just a big misunderstanding, and lack of communication is all.” Tony said and stood up from his seat and walked over to Virginia. “Hug?”

Virginia nodded and Tony pulled her into a hug right as Peter came back into the room.

“You know just because I said I would try does not mean I want to see this.” Peter proclaimed loudly.

“What? You mean this?” Virginia said before placing a kiss on Tony’s lips earning a gag from Peter.

“You two are gross I don’t want to see that.” Peter said rolling his eyes and sitting down at the table pulling the cards out of the bag. “Oh yeah and we’re playing Uno!”

Almost 15 minutes later they were 2 card shuffles deep into the first round. Peter had only 1 card left, Virginia wasn’t far behind with 2 cards, and Tony, Tony had a mischievous look on his face as he got ready for his turn with 3 cards in his hand.

“I don’t like that look.” Peter said, staring at Tony as he got ready to place the card. “I thought we called truce.”

“Yeah, but it’s an unspoken rule that all truces go out the window while playing Uno.” Tony said then immediately placed down a draw 4 card directed at Peter who was sitting next to him.

Peter stared at Tony wide eyed in shock, then moved his eyes to the cards then back to Tony. “What the fuck Anthony.”

“Whoa language.” Virginia and Tony said at the same time.

“You can’t expect me to not say that when he places a draw 4 card when I have one card left.” Peter said as if it would help his case at all.

Tony tried not to laugh at Peter’s statement while his mom just shook her head and sighed.

“Just draw your cards Peter, accept your fate.” Virginia said with a laugh.

The game continued on for a few more rounds and right before Peter went to play his last card there was a knock on the door.

“Welp guess that’s the food so we gotta call it good.” Tony said standing up from the table to answer the door.

“You’re just mad you’re gonna lose.” Peter called out before placing his last card down onto the pile; a draw 2 card that would be directed at Tony due to the direction shift a few rounds before. “I mean you can play for second place if you want, but that’s just the first loser so you might as well accept your defeat here.”

“Alright kid I get it, you won.” Tony laughed bringing the paper bag full of take out over to the table. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m hungry so we can rematch another time.”

With the three of them sitting at the table laughing over take out, Peter would say he was pretty happy with Tony being a new addition to their little family. He wasn’t sure where Tony and his mom’s relationship would end up, but he was happy for them and there was a bit of confidence inside of him that told him it would work out in the long run.

#peter parker #tony stark #pepper potts #Peter Parker is Pepper Potts biological son #tw: implied/referenced abuse #irondad #spiderson #Pepper Potts/Tony Stark #pepperony #the friendly neighborhood exchange

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greenninjagal-blog · 4 years ago

Text

Deja Vu pt6

Hey guys! Surprise!! Have twenty pages of Dee picking a fight on TV. For those who are new around, [here’s] the first chapter and for those who need a refresher [here’s] the previous chapter!

Summary: Remus and Dee confront The Prince on live TV. Things go downhill rather quickly.

Word Count: 10447

TW: temporary character death, blood,

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist

Remus is twenty-one and he thinks that people might not actually be worth saving at all.

There’s an electricity in the air, a buzzing so loud that he can almost taste it as he shifts his weight between his feet. There are so many people around him, nearly too many, packed together like sardines in all the crevices that they can fit. Remus wants so badly to kick his leg out just to see if with one nudge he could toppled the human domino train down all the way, but Dee gives his hand a small, gentle squeeze.

His hand is warm, his touch intoxicating in a way that no drug could ever hope to be. Remus has felt it before, in futures that never happened, but it still feels unreal as it's going on. He thinks maybe, possibly that he’s stuck right now, right this second and that his real body is somewhere else bleeding out on the ground.

But he also thinks, traitorously, stupidly, suicidally, that he doesn’t mind as long as he gets to keep feeling Dee’s hand in his right now.

Dee’s touch is featherlight, but Remus is hyperaware of every atom in his body at these moments: Dee goes on to talk about so many things, but Remus’s brain only hears touch, warmth, Dee, Dee, Dee. And the Shapeshifter has to say his name at least four times before Remus realizes that time is passing and he’s not passing with it.

It should be annoying-- Remus thinks that Roman would have tried throttling him by now--but Dee just gives him a wispy, honeyed smile and does it again, like seeing Remus short circuit is somehow the best sight in the world.

Which is sweet, sugary, splendid. It might even mean that Dee intends to stick around after those feelings fade away to the bitter acquired taste that is Remus’s company after a year. So very few people ever got past that: the kids at school had flocked to Roman’s cotton candy exterior and had eaten him all up and then got burned when they mistakenly thought that Remus was anything like his twin outside his face.

(He wonders even now if Roman still shares that face with him. Did he dye his hair? Get piercings? Or did he cover his mirrors so he wouldn’t have to remember Remus existed at all? Does Roman think about Remus nearly as much as Remus thinks about Roman?)

Oh wait, Remus knows the answer to that last one.

Dee squeezes his hand again, even without looking. He insisted on dressing presentably today: shining shoes and one of his new suits tailored to his exact size and a flattering face that just screams trust me with all your finances, I won’t rob you blind, Grannie! When they were getting their coffees, the woman in front of them had called him a gentleman and Remus almost choked on his drink at that. A pretty face, a kind gesture, a mask and Dee wore his like a skin walking alien and no one was any wiser about it. Except Remus.

He reaches over and steals Dee’s latte from his hand. Dee tenses, then relaxes and watches with an amused smile as Remus sniffs it.

“Not nearly enough vodka in this,” he decides and Dee laughs.

“Ah, yes, because the girl at the counter is surely old enough to be serving alcohol,” Dee says. “And the last thing I want to do is be on TV drunk.”

His nose scrunches up at the detestable thought, but Remus thinks it’s the exact opposite of what they should be doing. Dee? On TV? With no inhibitions? Remus listened to his late-night rambles on the flaws of society when there was nothing but sleep deprivation weighing on their souls and Remus was moved enough to find himself here today. There was something about his honesty, his psychological approaches, his confidence, that made him so trustworthy. He was a leader at heart and Remus was happy to follow him, even if it meant going right off a cliff.

(Not like he hadn’t done that a time or fifty before. And besides, Dee could grow wings if he wanted. He’d catch both of them and fly them to safety.)

“A dash of vodka is just liquid courage,” Remus says.

Dee turns his green eyes on him, the light through the window making sparkles in his irises, or maybe that’s just Dee doing subtle magic of his own. Whatever it was Remus decides he doesn’t ever want to look away again. Dee's eyes are priceless; Remus wouldn’t be surprised if Dee had stolen a hundred jadeite stones and shoved them in his eyes for safekeeping.

“Who needs liquid courage--” Dee says “--when I have you?”

Remus tips back Dee’s latte and slurps it so that his tongue burns right out of his mouth, because then at least there’s a reason for the mortifying smoldering all over his face. Dee reaches up and rubs the pad of his thumb over Remus’s cheek, tickling his mustache ever so slightly and laughs again.

“Darling,” he says. “You’re too easy.”

“You going to do something about it?” Remus challenges. “I wouldn’t be opposed to it right here, over this table, you know. Might wanna make sure little Timmy over there is covering his eyes first though. He doesn’t need his awakening until a few more years down the line.”

They’re close enough to the other customers that an elder woman with a pocket dog in her purse gives him a glare and a teenage girl in a sweater turns bright pink and stares out the window just a bit too hard. There’s a good chance that Remus could get both of them to do something more, but before he can open his mouth again, Dee is leaning in.

He’s using his usual height today, which means that Remus is just a bit taller, but Dee makes those three inches feel like hairbreadths. His breath is warm on Remus’s neck, and it sends shivers down his back when the phantom feeling brushes over his skin. He smells like cardamom, and Remus’s mouth freezes, his words long lost and forgotten in the prospect of Dee saying literally anything at all.

But in the end Dee just wordlessly hums and drops back to his flat foot.

It takes Remus a whole second to remember how to breathe. And another to realize that Dee took back his latte and was drinking it like he was entirely unaware of what he had just done to Remus, except that his lips slip off the rim on his cup and they’re curled upwards in that absolutely sensual smirk of his.

“It’s almost time,” the shapeshifter says moving on casually while Remus tries not to let his brain melt right out of his ears. “I should go get into place.” He peeks at Remus and glances away just as quickly. “You…you’re sure that you’re alright to do this, Remus? You don’t have to if it will hurt you.”

Remus wonders vainly if Dee was aware that the term “Martyr” was engraved on his ribcage, imprinted on his heart, seared into his soul. If there was ever a choice between himself and someone else getting hurt, Remus wouldn’t hesitate, and he never had. If Roman had ever looked, like truly looked, he might have noticed that, and then maybe things would have turned out even marginally different. But this time around, Remus nods at Dee and squeezes his hand back so hard that his fingers lose their blood flow.

“It’s not gonna hurt me,” Remus says, which might be a lie and not even a believable one, but they both pretend. “Besides, this means something to you, doesn’t it?”

Dee’s shoulders tense, and resettle, as if he’s reminding himself that Remus is not a threat. He licks his lips, chasing after the taste of espresso. “It does,” he says and it shouldn’t feel like Dee is telling him some big surprise secret, because they spent the past three days planning this whole thing out on the floor of their hotel room while Remus rolled that casino coin between his fingers and thought about how Dee’s hair looks soft and fluffy when he’s just waking up.

“Remus…” Dee starts. “There’s something I haven’t told you yet. About me. And… this.”

Whatever this is. He’s hesitating again, hovering like he’s on top of a fence topped with barbed wire and he knows that he needs to pick a side but can’t quite decide which side will hurt less: the spikes or the lava? Remus shakes away the unneeded thoughts to focus in on the trepidation in Dee’s expression, but as soon as he zeroes in on it, Dee smooths it out.

“Timing,” he says almost as if to himself. Then, “I’ll tell you after we do this. I owe… I owe you that much.”

Remus doesn’t think there’s a single thing that Dee could ever owe him at all. Not when Dee pulled his bleeding body off the balcony, not when Dee kissed him with all the tenderness in the world, not when Dee stayed with him in the face of literally everything. Dee can’t possibly owe him anything when Remus is the one standing here with a power that’s not even helpful unless it’s killing Remus, and Dee is out here trying to save lives with what he has.

But Remus is decently sure that if he opens his mouth to say any of that, what will come out will be something undoubtedly more emotional than they have time for and will probably scare Dee away entirely: a love confession, a proposal, matching headstones for their graves that they’ll probably be in much sooner than either of them would like.

“And Remus?” Dee says, like he doesn’t notice that he’s literally the only thing that matters in Remus’s little world. He gives Remus’s hand another meaningful squeeze. Then he pops up on his toes to brush a kiss to his cheek in a way that makes Remus feel like a middle school girl in a catholic school discovering how attractive boys are for the first time.

His heart beats so hard he thinks he can taste it around the coffee and whatever the hell it is that Dee tastes like.

“Thank you,” Dee says with sincerity.

“If we were characters in a book, this is the part where right before the author kills you off for dramatic effect.” Remus reaches out and clinks his cup with Dee’s. “Don’t make it that easy.”

Dee snorts in that very dignified way of his. “Of course, what was I thinking? My apologies. Here I was, assuming that the soothsayer might be able to help me to cheat Death but apparently I was mistaken.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be right there in your ear, Despacito,” Remus says pointing towards the earpiece he’s wearing. “You won’t be able to get me out of your mind even if you wanted me to!”

Dee smiles, quick and wonderful and Remus drinks in the sight like it’s the newest liquid craze, better than the latte in Dee’s hands, or the ice coffee in his own, or fresh drinking water in the middle of the desert. Dee’s hand drip, drip, drips right out of Remus’s, although the atoms in his fingers don’t stop tingling with sensation.

“I look forward to it,” Dee says as final parting and then he weaves his way out of the café. Remus bites his plastic straw and follows with his eyes until he can’t anymore. The people around them move out of the way for him because Dee gives off that aura of someone important and no one wants to be caught dead getting dirt on his freshly polished oxfords.

For all their planning, Remus still feels a little nervous with everything going on. They gathered as much information as they could about the day: the new registration office was being set up in a public library as a temporary location and it was closed for activity outside of the registration. Remus took particular pleasure in reading the heartwarming amount of public backlash about that from regular people who just really liked the library for some reason. The building is a lucky four stories tall-- which Remus thinks is nice. The library back in his hometown was two, poorly funded, and he’d been banned from visiting when he was ten because he’d seen the old librarian fall off a ladder and tried to help her by grabbing which did not go over remotely well.

The street is casual: a bunch of modern buildings with local shops and boutiques. Dee got sidetracked two days ago picking out new shoes from a window display and chatting with the owner who surprisingly was very informative.

“The Prince? My niece thinks he’s the greatest thing since sliced bread,” the older woman said while packing up a pair of single strap monks.

“Oh?” Dee said conversationally which made Remus look up from where he was flicking through a rack of sun dresses.

“I think he has a few screws loose,” the woman said. “No child his age should be running around in a costume like that. He’s just inviting danger to himself, not to mention those around him. In fact, Linda-- you know Linda right? She owns the chocolatiering place on fourth street? It’s got lovely chocolate strawberries-- Linda said over our weekly tea that if she got the chance, she would punch him in the face!" the woman chuckled. "But I don't blame her at all. All this nonsense about super powers and abilities and someone might start looking twice at how her baby girl can get any animal to eat out of her hand."

Dee raised an eyebrow. And the lady waved off his unasked question.

"Magic ability or pure coincidence! I don't care about any of that! If that FBE comes knocking on Linda's door the whole group of us shop owners are ready to stand up against them. Linda’s little girl belongs right here with her family and not anywhere near some secret government building or on some watchlist like a criminal!"

They left after that and paid a visit to the chocolate shop on fourth street. And what do you know, the little shop received a generous cash award from a lesser known chocolate secret society group thing. Remus doesn't remember the actual name Dee used, but he does remember that they were selling dinosaur shaped chocolates and he bought a box just so he could bite the heads off all of them.

The main street leading to the library-turned-registration office was closed off completely and marked that way with crowd control fences, which might have been for the best. In just the two days leading up to the grand opening, the city’s population seemed to have doubled. Remus was moderately amused by it, watching from the window of their hotel room: people came from the woodwork, springing into the city with the rigour of a bunch of busy ants who were so completely unaware of the exterminator coming.

Dee didn’t let him try looking to the future more than a few times and to be very ridiculously honest, Remus is kinda grateful for it. Every time he looks he feels something off about himself, something he can’t put a name to, something he can’t put a finger on. It just seems that one minute he’s fine and the next he’s hacking up blood.

Which by the way, means he’s dying according to WebMD and Google. Remus doesn’t let Dee see the worst of it, but the nosebleeds are stronger, and Dee’s not exactly stupid. He can tell that Remus is using more tissues, that he’s holding them to his face longer, that he’s pale and tired and his hands are colder to the touch.

They don’t talk about it. Not really.

They should.

But if there’s one thing that Remus’s mother taught him, it’s that if you avoid talking about something for long enough it will disappear and you’ll forget about it.

Perhaps the biggest thorn in their sides-- both of their sides and their lungs and the back of their necks right through the medulas killing them instantly-- is the charming Prince himself! The character seems to be everywhere and nowhere all at once: the news has him stopping burglaries and home invasions up and down the east coast, calming down violent criminals, and helping little old ladies cross the street, and flashing his award-winning, crowd-hypnotising smile at the cameras. And yet for all the several hours worth of footage that Dee and him had scoured through, neither of them can quite figure out what The Prince’s power is.

It’s mental, at least. Something to do with information based on what Remus can come up with. He can tell from the way that the guy reacts in the middle of any confrontation: there’s a moment where green lights flash in his eyes, flickering so quickly it might have been a trick of the camera if Remus hadn’t caught it so many times on so many different occasions. One moment he’s acting one way, the next he’s changing course entirely, moving or stopping or avoiding. Like he knows what’s going to happen.

Like he can see the future.

But somehow he avoided all the fun nosebleeds and the feeling of death over his shoulder. Like maybe when his power manifested people actually believed him! Like maybe his friends didn’t shove him away and maybe his mother loved him and maybe he stayed home and watched Disney movies with his brother all night when they were seventeen instead of letting him go to a party where everything went wrong.

Remus’s hands shook far more than they had any right to when he first made the connection, first made the comment, first made the joke out loud for Dee to laugh at without pay attention to what he was actually saying. Then he dry heaved into a trash can for fifteen minutes while Dee rubbed his back and pointedly waited for an explanation that Remus didn’t give him because Roman is nothing and no one and he doesn’t matter when Remus has Dee.

“Perhaps he’s a mind reader,” Dee suggested.

Whatever he ends up being, Remus decides that The Prince better hope he figures out some shit with Dee. Because if Remus has to enter the ring, he doesn’t think the Prince will be leaving it in anything other than a body bag.

“You seem very… invested in him,” Dee said when Remus told him as much over a breakfast of french toast and eggs at a dinner where the waitress didn’t tell them to stop making out in any flickers of the future he blinked at. Dee was choosing his words carefully. Too carefully.

“His face is very punchable,” Remus said, squeezing ketchup in his orange juice. “I’m surprised no one else sees it! Don’t you just get filled with rage when you look at him?”

The way Dee blinked said a lot, but Remus pretended not to notice as he used a straw to stir his drink and poured a bit of syrup in too. For flavor and fun. Dee doesn’t say anything more on the topic, and Remus doesn’t ask because he gets the feeling Dee will tell him the truth if he does.

And Remus doesn’t think that this is a truth that Dee wants to tell right now.

Maybe later. After Dee’s dragged the Propaganda Prince from his golden pedestal and Remus has had his fun in the mix. After they stop the FBE from their nefarious plans. After.

Remus tastes the word in his mouth and he’s not sure why it feels so foreign to him. It’s a strange mixture of bitter and unforgettable, of sweet and strange, of something he’s never tried before and might never get to taste again.

It’s better than blood. Less red too.

Remus taps his foot as he watches out the window of the coffee shop. There are a lot of people inside here and he’s not sure how many of them are regulars compared to how many of them want to just watch the possible freaks that have to walk down the street and enter the building pretending like they can’t feel all the world watching them do it.

Remus isn’t even one of the suckers doing it, but he can understand how it might make someone queasy. The number of eyes looking, watching, remembering them is something of a curse; the cameras are blatantly obvious and the gawking of the other people is unignorable. If things were different, Remus wonders if he might have been nervous about this, about entering the building, about taking a step out of line and telling the whole world what he could do.

It was supposed to be a secret, right? At least that’s what his mother had always encouraged him to believe. She told him to stop talking, to stop crying, to shut up and pretend nothing was happening, smile at the cashier, Remus, but don’t tell her that you can see her tripping over her shoe laces and cracking her head on the floor. When people asked his mother how her children were, she never had enough to say about Roman’s achievements.

Remus sticks his straw all the way in his mouth until it pokes his uvula and his eyes water.

She tried.

And in the end it wasn’t enough, isn’t enough, because now she talked so much about Roman that she didn’t even remember that he existed anymore. He’s grown up and she’s still the same.

He wonders if she would even recognize him if they passed each other on the street.

Something to think about. Perhaps he can convince Dee to take a trip with him to the other side of the country, to his hometown, to his old neighborhood. He’s sure that by now they have enough cash for a couple dozen eggs that belong on the outside of his old two story suburban house. After all this, after they save the day, after they put Princey boy in his place. After.

The clock on his phone ticks down, and Remus feels like his chest is going to explode if his heart gets any faster. The FBE registration office opens at ten a.m. and he’s not entirely certain the world will still be standing by ten oh five, but that’s what makes everything fun, isn’t it?

The coffee shop customers shuffle and move like a complex organism trying to rip itself apart but never quite managing it. Outside there are more people, pressed together, close enough to be touching, to be talking, to be nervous and excited and emotional. Camera flashes go off, news crews stand in the middle of the street with microphones interviewing the normal people who are treating this like a festival or a parade rather than the thinly veiled death threat it is.

They’re packed so closely together that Remus has a hard time seeing over their heads, and peeking at the temporary stage that’s been set up in front of the entrance to the library. There’s a podium on it, though, and decorations of a brilliant red, white, and blue, along with speakers and microphones being tested for the brilliant speech that the Prince is going to give for his adoring fans. There’s security and police patrolling everywhere, news crews and reporters and civilians watching with bated breath as the time draws near.

Part of Remus wants to wonder why here, why now, why did the Prince choose to come cross country out of the blue like this? Surely he could get just as much adoration from his fans in New York.

There must have been something that happened on the East Coast that drove him out here. Bad publicity that might make him look bad-- for a moment Remus entertains the idea that the Superhero managed to kill someone and now the FBE was graciously covering it up and sending him to Oregon so that he stays out of the way, stays out of trouble.

Too bad for him; Remus and Dee had claimed this part of the country as their own playground and they brought nothing but trouble with them.

Dee would take extra special delight in taking a bat to the Prince’s glass house reputation if the man let him. Remus would take extra special delight in watching Dee do it.

Remus tapped the screen of his phone again, checking the time. Dee should be in place by now, hiding among the normal people, slipping between the patrolling law enforcers, and plotting the best place to be in order to make his grand entrance.

((It was adorable watching Dee figure out what he wanted it to be: the man curled up in a sweatshirt with hair still wet from his shower and chewing the end of a pencil in between spitballing ideas at Remus. His eyes seemed to glow when he got excited, and they were hypnotizing to look at, swirling with all the colors: grey blue, jade, hazel, silver. Whenever he liked an idea he scribbled it down on a piece of paper and smiled with his fangs out and Remus had to resist the urge to kiss him again, lest they fall behind in their planning phase due to an excessive make out session.))

In the end, planning this whole thing wasn’t all that much different from their other heists: the casino where they met, the fancy banks, the jewelry stores, a privately owned winery. There was less of Remus looking at the future, true, but that just meant that they spent more time lying next to each other scouring the internet on their individual phones for relevant information and eating chocolate dinosaurs.

The clock strikes thirty-till ten and the whole world seems to hold its breath. Remus can feel it, the way the air holds itself and suddenly the whole coffeeshop, the patrons, the cashiers and the machines go quiet with anticipation.

“There!” yells a kid from a window seat, covered in chocolate from a partially devoured muffin and bouncing on the cushion. He presses both his hands to the cleaned window, as if he can phase right through it if he pushes himself hard enough. “There! It’s a car!”

“Where? I wanna see!”

“Is it The Prince?”

“The Prince! Move I want to see!”

Remus barely has time to brace himself before there are people pressing up against him, strangers shoving and pushing and yelling and trying to get to the window to see exactly what is going on. Remus himself leaves a nice face print to the glass that he suspects the long suffering employees are going to have blast cleaning later.

Assuming that the shop is still standing after all this.

Someone’s elbow goes into Remus’s spine and for a second Remus blinks and there’s a guy standing over him, pressing a hand to his pulse, and the manager at the front desk of their hotel is screaming again. Remus hisses out a harsh breath that fogs up the window and scrubs the thought, the concept, the memory from his mind. Because he’s not dead, he’s not dying, he’s not on the hood of a car. And the last thing he needs is to forget that.

The car that the kid had pointed out was actually a caravan of cars: black nondescript SUVs with tinted windows and tires thick enough to be bulletproof. The type of cars celebrities and CEOs and politicians ride around in when their limos are being deep cleaned. The crowd blockers leave more than enough room for the cars to parade through the street right to the stage. Someone outside even sets off a confetti cannon so it rains red and gold and white paper through the air.

Remus grinds his morals together and shoves himself backwards, knocking into about six more people who are swarming for his spot so quickly, so frantically, so vehemently, that Remus doesn’t actually make out any of their faces or forms or bodies. The whole shop was swarmed with people, but now all the bodies were pressed against the street windows and Remus thinks if they were on a boat, they would have capsized. He tugs the front of his leather jacket to straighten it and elbows his way through the front doors and out into the street.

Outside it’s not much easier to see anything. The cheering crowd is the most annoying thing ever. Although the hand made signs people are waving are a close second. Remus fights the urge to knock several of them out of people’s hands because the crowd control are watching like hawks and--

-- “HEY! HEY!” one of the uniformed guys yells at him. Remus flips him the bird, and because he’s so busy laughing at the guy he misses the sign holder’s left fist coming for his face.--

-- “HEY! HEY!” one of the uniformed guys yells at him. Remus flips him the bird, and because Remus knows better now he manages to dodge the incoming fist and drive his elbow up under his attacker’s guard and right into his diaphragm. There’s an exhilarating feeling flowing through him as the crowd around him jostles and shouts and falls to chaos in a way that completely derails the plan Dee worked so hard to put together.--

--Remus tears himself back to the present, stumbling slightly over a swaying ground. He coughs into his fist as his body is checked by a passerby into the outside wall of the coffee shop. There are flecks of red, so small Remus wouldn’t have noticed if he weren’t looking for them. That’s good, that’s great, that’s fine.

He’s fine.

The crowd pulses and the volume of dissonant cheering increases tenfold. Remus wipes his hand on his thigh and looks up to see over through the crowd for what was happening, although he already has a good idea. The cars must have completed their slow circuit and the doors of one of them must have popped open for the guest of honor to step out.

Another burst of confetti shoots out filling the air with white pieces of paper that almost look like snow. Remus ignores them mostly as he slips through the crowd in ways that his body probably shouldn’t be able to move: under an elbow here, passing a shoulder there, winking at the college student his face is three inches from as he scoots between him and an older woman with a crying child on her hip. He feels his spine crack more than he hears it as he moves.

He makes it to the crowd barriers with an impressive number of bruises, a bit of coffee from an off balanced teenager, and a scrap where someone hit him with one of those stupid signs. He’s close enough to the stage that his skin itches, that his throat burns, that his toes curl; the Prince isn’t even looking his way but Remus thinks that the white of his super suit would look excellent covered in his blood. There’s a rapier at his side that glistens in the sunlight, silver and shining and ready for use although Remus has yet to see him actually use it as a weapon rather than a fancy prop.

The Prince is an actor on a stage waving to his fans, a red herring meant to distract everyone from the implications of the FBE headquarters right behind him. He blows a kiss to the crowd and Remus gets the urge to punch his face again.

Instead he presses up against the barrier wall, hooking his arms around the metal bars to hold himself in place and watches with his tongue in his cheek. He nods at the techie standing on the other side: a guy with hefty headphones, bright purple hair, and a mouth mask with an anime character on it from a show Remus vaguely recognizes. The guy squints at him suspiciously for a moment but ultimately just shrugs and goes back to writing something in a pocket notebook and leaning against the side of a News Crew van he presumably works for.

On stage, The Prince approaches the podium waving still and smiling twice as broadly as before. Remus isn’t sure how anyone can look at him and think “safety” when his charming show of teeth also makes it look like his mouth was going to split his entire head open. A police line-up stands along the wings of the stage, like he’s a real prince about to address a nation.

Someone Remus doesn’t recognize is also on the stage in a suit. The Prince grins and shakes the guys hand like they’re old friends. They pose for a camera flash for a moment, sharing a laugh that can’t possibly be that funny, and the new techie rolls his eyes so hard his head shakes. Another person from the crew joins him standing side-by-side and they share a short conversation that leaves the one with the headphones glaring.

The guy on stage claps The Prince on the back and offers him the podium with microphones before stepping back clapping enthusiastically.

Remus thinks boredly that it would have been funnier if Dee were up there, dressed up in a stranger’s skin and stepping back only so that The Prince never gets to see the knife Dee shoves in his neck. But Remus knows Dee better than that; he’d never kill, and he'd definitely never deliver a fatal blow when his victim didn’t know his name.

(Remus wonders distantly, when he realized how much names meant to Dee. Was it before Dee offered up his name at that casino? Or later when Dee was breathing into Remus’s mouth and Remus was trying to figure out what was wrong with himself? Dee wanted people to know his name, wanted people to remember him when he left, wanted them to recognize him-- but he also didn’t and Remus isn’t sure how to solve that puzzle yet so he sticks it in the back of his mind to work on when its just the two of them alone in a hotel room in the dark.)

The Prince winks to someone in the crowd and finishes his last wave. Remus glances back at the line of SUVs but no one else comes out of them-- which isn’t that weird? Remus seems to recall the Prince being very specific that he had a team and a partner and yet he’s up there all alone receiving all the glory.

Of course they could just be shy, but based on how little information there actually is about the team and partner existing, Remus thinks that maybe it’s a farce meant to placate children’s dreams of being on a super team with their super hero!

(Remus is not alone in this thinking either. Dee’s favorite website called AnxiTEA has several dozen articles written about how The Prince sucks and that he’s just doing all this for publicity and recognition-- along with a carefully worded warning that if The Prince begins losing either of those things, he’s most likely going to become feral and turn on them all.)

Remus adjusts the earpiece in his ear just as The Prince opens his mouth to start off that particularly exciting, bold, inspiring speech of his. But before he gets more than a syllable out, a shadow floods from overhead.

The crowd collectively gasps and screams, spreading apart in every which direction; Remus lets out a hefty groan as the guy next to him bowls into his shoulder and he nearly flings over the fence. The techie on the other side drops his little notebook in shock, and his friend pulls out a phone immediately.

The shadow sweeps downward through the air like the largest bird in history. Remus laughs as he watches, Dee’s wings glisten with black wings that glisten yellow when the sun reflects off them. In fact just watching him, Remus has a hard time believing that Dee didn’t grow up with wings attached to his back. He makes floating and flying and landing look graceful, ethereal, easy and breathless and exhilarating. Dee lands on the stage due left of The Prince, safely with his knees bent to absorb the shock. When he stands back up, his blond hair flows slightly in the kickback wind and his trustable dark eyes sparkle.

(He went with the black and yellow color scheme. That had been Remus’s favorite option. The black of his suit makes the shimmers of gold look expensive, dangerous, and untouchable. Although, Remus is a little biased on the front that he always thinks Dee looks dangerous and untouchable. He’s a caution sign, a warning, and Remus can’t wait for The Prince to ignore it.)

“Hello,” Dee says and Remus thinks he can hear his barely concealed laughter over all the crowd's confused chaos. The police line behind The Prince lurch into movement at the sound of his voice, but the hero himself throws out an arm and stops them where they stand with hands on their tasers.

Dee raises an eyebrow, a polite expression on his face. And the Prince mirrors him.

“Oh wonderful!” the hero says in a confident tone, in a reassuring tone, in a placating tone that tells the audiences watching that there’s nothing to fear from the black winged Angel that just descended down on them like a herald of Death. Dee’s eyes shine with amusement that Remus can pick out even from over here. “Another friend like me!”

The Prince offers a hand to Dee, a handshake. Remus digs his teeth into his tongue as he watches Dee take it from above, like he’s royalty allowing the poor publicity prince to greet him.

“Not quite like you, my dear Prince,” Dee says. “If the wings weren’t a dead give away already.”

The Prince’s lips tighten. Remus thinks that his expression screams “calculating”. He looks at Dee like he’s still trying to figure out if he’s a friend or foe, and Dee’s body language offers no hints at all.

Or well, maybe a few hints. Remus can see it, because he can see Dee: the tilt of his head is a challenge, the light in his eyes is condescending, the openness of his body facing the crowd speaks in volume of who he’s actually there for. Remus can read every bit of Dee and it sends a shiver down his back to realize.

The crowd bobs and murmurs, unsure of what to do with the surprise visitation. Several camera flashes go off like someone is trying to prove to themselves that the wings are real. The techie on the other side of the barrier reaches up and hooks a finger over his mouth mask as if he’s debating ripping it off to breathe easier. Remus digs his chin into the metal bars of the crowd barrier and wishes he had some popcorn.

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Prince,” Dee says silky smooth.

“Good things I hope,” The Prince says back. “I would love to sit down and have a conversation with a fan as elegant as yourself, but I really must be getting back on schedule. I’d be happy to sign somethin--”

Dee laughs pleasantly, although Remus thinks he should be swinging to dislodge the superheroes head from his neck.

“You are a riot!” Dee takes a few steps forward. “You think I’m up here to get your autograph?”

The Prince’s eyes narrow slightly. “Aren’t you?”

Dee flexes his wings just as slightly, letting them shimmer so beautifully for the crowd up front to see. “Oh no. I must confess I’m not much of a fan at all. I’d really much rather skip to the debate portion of this.”

“The debate,” The Prince repeats like he hasn’t ever heard the word before. Remus half expects him to snap at that guy behind him to offer up a dictionary so he can read the Webster definition before he responds. But in the end the Prince merely moves his arm back and settles his right hand on the hilt of his rapier.

“I’ve been fascinated by you, Prince,” Dee continues, gliding around him and stretching his wings so that the police line is forced to take another step back or get bumped. Dee circles the hero much like a snake starting to coil around its prey before the final strike. He’s slow and methodical and Remus doesn’t think anyone can look away from him. He knows he can’t. “They call you a superhero. The first real life one to walk the streets.”

The Prince follows Dee’s motions with his head. “I have no control over what the media says.”

Dee gives him another condescending look. Remus thinks it’s eerily similar to the ones that his teachers used to give him when Remus insisted that the other kids shoved him on the playground when he did nothing to them first.

“Of course you don’t,” Dee says. “The media can be rather misleading at times. After all they said that my way of handling an out of control child with an arbitrary grasp on fire was fallible. Incorrect. Deplorable.” Dee stops just over the Prince’s left shoulder and tilts his head. “Villainous.”

The Prince blinks, stiffening.

“Oh,” he says. “You were the one at the mall. In Idaho.”

“Yes,” Dee says. “And if I had done nothing, that child would have continued to operate under the impression that killing is an acceptable punishment for petty thievery. And yet I’ve received nothing but bad press, criticisms, insults for what I did while you get praise and recognition from your… adoring fans. I would say that’s quite unfair don’t you think?”

The Prince’s nose twitches. Remus watches his hand on his rapier tighten, but he refrains from drawing and making the first blow in front of a billion witnesses. The cameras couldn’t draw away even if they tried.

“Perhaps if you had tried talking first, rather than jumping straight to violence--”

Dee tuts and presses a hand to his chest. “I so do love how much you know about what happened there! With all the completely accurate information and that confident tone you’re wielding, my prince, one might be convinced that you had been there and watched that child nearly kill three innocent people after I attempted the talking part first.”

The Prince’s jaw set.

“Oh? Nothing to say?” Dee lowers his chin to look The Prince dead in the eyes. “The truth is that the child in question decided to attack a man robbing a previously insured jewelry store-- most likely out of desperation-- and decided to attempt to burn him alive. The action of which nearly killed me and my… partner if it hadn’t been for a spot of good luck. Then when I attempted to help preserve the criminal from the life threatening third degree burns he was suffering, the child called me a villain and demanded I and another brave bystander back away from the man so that he could die.”

Dee’s eyes flash blue and green and then a cold steel blue before they settle back on the silent superhero. “You and your original way of thinking are an inspiration to us all.”

The Prince’s face twitches again, the whole thing this time, twisting into a not-very-nice expression for just the briefest of seconds before he remembers that there’s a captive audience watching this play out. He takes a deep steadying breath and lets it out again.

“I apologize,” he says. “I jumped to a conclusion. You made an acceptable call in the face of a diffic--”

“I made the only call,” Dee inserts harshly. “And I don’t want your apology. Words mean nothing.”

“What are you here for then?” The Prince asks, and Remus can’t help the feral smile that etches across his features. He leans forward as far as he can without tipping the fence because he doesn’t want to miss a single second of this.

“Oh, that would be simple,” Dee says. “I want you to explain to the world, why you are trying to get hundreds of people killed.”

“I don’t follow.”

“I don’t suppose you would.” Dee says. “I can’t imagine that you’ve had to do a lot of critical thinking these past few weeks.”

The Prince scowls and opens his pretty little mouth, but Dee waves him off with a clandestine motion. There’s a delicious looking smirk on Dee’s lips: something that Remus thinks he can spend all day staring at. He’s having fun up there with all the attention on him, having fun with people hanging on his every word, having fun leading The Prince around like a dog on a leash. A showboat, a leader, an actor-- but Dee’s the director too, telling the cameras where to point and what to frame because this is his show, even if no one else realizes it yet.

“I’ve been following the FBE for a while now. You can imagine that as someone with an ability I tend to be interested in politics that directly affect me, as all good upstanding Americans should.” Dee flutters his wings a bit again. “However, I can’t imagine why anyone-- certainly not someone with the brains such as yourself-- would purposely align yourself to their less than noble intentions. They aim to take advantage of people like us, and you are using your… well earned celebrity status to convince the people that this is acceptable. Good, even! Surely you don’t truly believe that the FBE and Madam Secretary of Defense have your best interests at heart?”

The Prince shifts his weight around, looking for all intents and purposes like he was ready to leap across the stage and make Dee eat his own words, in the end he just settled back down.

“I do actually,” The Prince says. “I’ve been working with them for a while-- all of my team has. Madam Witchall has been a great help in getting this project on its feet so that the FBE can provide aid to--”

"I guess what it boils down to is this," Dee says, steam-rolling everything else the Prince might have wanted to say. Remus can pick the irritation out of his clipped tone, simmering under the guise of being passion rather than anger. "How much do you trust your government? How much faith do you put in people, Princeps?

"This is, after all, the same congregation that sends military recruiters to the more impoverished schools in America and hounds kids until they believe that their only option to get into college is to sign up for the military. Is that what they did to you as well? Convinced you, you were dangerous and unable to control yourself and that they could help you?"

The Prince’s jaw tightens so hard that even Remus can see it from where he’s standing. He wants to laugh, but he puts his hand in his mouth instead. The crowd is murmuring, mesmerized by the sheer audacity of this shapeshifter to show up and question the morals of their beloved hero. It would be funny, if Remus doesn’t close his eyes and see Dee’s charred corpse from that kid at the mall not so long ago whenever he tries to sleep.

Hero idealization was a dangerous thing. It needs to be nipped in its bud before it strangles everyone; luckily there’s no one better with a pair of shears than Dee.

"I do believe that’s none of your business," The Prince says.

"But it is," Dee coos just a bit too sweetly. His words come out slick with honey. "Because you are also a person of ability and I happen to care a great deal about people with abilities."

"We have a duty to those less fortunate than--"

"We--" Dee cuts him off sharply “--do not have a duty to anyone for anything."

He takes a breath, recenters himself, and when his eyes open again, they’re a piercing green that pins the hero to place on the stage for everyone to see. "In case you’ve forgotten, my dear Prince, we are mere humans, too. Not everyone wants to grow up to punch each other in the face. Some of us would like to live a normal life, without being forced into superhero dramatics."

His easy dismissal is inviting danger to come knocking. Remus likes that about him, the fearlessness. Did it come from after he had met Remus, or was it something Dee had grown up with? A symbol of faith in Remus’s abilities or a symptom of delusion? The mystery is tantalizing on Remus’s--

--tongue. Remus savors the taste of it with a grin. It’s so much better than blood, so much better than slushies, so much better than french toast and eggs and only one step down from the taste of actually kissing Dee.

Remus blinks, pressing against the barrier, his eyes catching sight of something else amongst the crowd although he isn’t sure what it is at first. A flash of a camera? A pushing shoving motion? It's something and Remus tries to follow it but it’s gone in the next half blink and he’s not sure what it was at all.

Then everyone is screaming and the crowd is in chaos and Remus gets slammed into the barrier again and shoved along it for a sharp second before he hits the ground. The noise roars over his thoughts, over his breathing, over his ability to comprehend anything that’s not how he’s being stepped on by careless bystanders fleeing the streets. Someone trips over him, someone steps on his ankle, someone kicks the back of his head and his lungs burn and his eyes itch and he knows he missed something---

--Tongue. Remus savors the taste with a hint of confusion. It’s better than blood that’s in his throat, than slushies in his memories, than french toast and eggs and only one step down from actually kissing Dee.

Remus blinks, pressing against the barrier, his eyes catching sight of something else amongst the crowd although he isn’t sure what it is at first, and doesn’t bother caring, because something else is happening and he needs to know what it is that causes the crowd to splinter apart like shattered glass. Dee is talking on stage, winding up the toy Prince to dance to his tune, and Remus is watching with his heart in his throat and unable to hear a word of it.

Then Remus blinks and Dee is not standing on stage because the shapeshifter’s body is morphing exactly the way it shouldn’t be. The crowd screams, and Dee’s eyes are empty in a way that Remus has seen a million times and abhors unlike anything else in the world.

Dee is not standing on stage because he’s actually fallen off it onto the asphalt ground below and there’s a spray of red mist in the air where he had been standing before. Remus is body-checked into the crowd barrier, and skimmed along it, until he hits the ground and feels himself get trampled over, but it doesn’t matter because he knows what he saw.

Dee is not standing on stage because he’s dead with a bullet in his head from---

---Tongue. Remus does not savor anything about the taste because whenever he closes his eyes the only thing he can see is Dee’s dead body and the only thing he can feel is copper clawing its way up his throat with the blind terror.

Remus leaps over the barrier, causing everyone around him to yell. The techie with the purple bangs in particular jumps back, but Remus ignores them in favor of watching, because Dee hasn’t seen him and doesn’t know what's coming and Remus wants to scream at the top of his lungs because watching Dee die never gets any easier to see.

It’s a bullet to the head. From the right temple through his brain at a downwards angle and Remus feels the blood sprinkle over him like sea spray straight from his darkest nightmares. He barely even notices, barely recognizes it, barely cares about it at all, because the next thing he knows Dee’s body is following it down right into Remus’s arms and unseeing blue-grey eyes stare at an empty sky.

The Prince is there too, mouth open and horrified, and even though everyone is screaming Remus can hear him start to say a phrase, a word, a syllable, “Re--”---

--Tongue. Remus’s mouth tastes like blood and absolutely nothing else because Dee is going to die from a shot through the head from a sniper, a shooter, an asshole and Remus thought maybe that Dee was over exaggerating before with his whole “the government is going to turn us all into weapons or eliminate us” rhetoric, but Remus thinks that he should have paid attention a little harder. Listened a little more. Believed a little better.

He stares at the building behind them, the library that’s being passed off as the FBE and the dark tinted windows that make the upper floors look abandoned completely. It’s like watching….it’s like…. it’s …

There’s a flash, a flicker. Then a heartbeat and then Dee is dying, dying, dead all alone and Remus feels himself body-checked back by a faceless person in the crowd and tossed to the ground to be trampled to death too.---

--tongue. Remus spits blood out of his mouth curling in on himself to stop anyone else from seeing because fuck him. He presses two fingers to his ear piece and pretends poorly that his throat doesn’t feel like someone took a pack of razor blades to it.

“Sniper shot, fourth floor, third window over,” Remus rasps. His heart pounds in his throat, in his skull, behind his eyes in a way that makes him want to tear his skin off to get the feeling to stop. Blood floods over his fingers, smearing on his chin, and across his sleeves no matter how hard he tries to get rid of it.

“One minute, forty seconds,” Remus coughs, and stares at the drips that hit the lower half of his shin, the toe of his boots, the asphalt.

Dee doesn’t react. Not at all and Remus wants to scream because he can feel time passing and he can’t stop the future from happening. He can’t, he can’t he can’t he can’t--

"You heard me, right?" Remus says maybe a little hysterically, because fuck, if they got this far and their mics weren’t even working and Remus just got the only person who ever mattered to him killed on live TV.

At this distance, Remus doesn’t know if he can make it, but even if he does, even if he tackles Dee down from the stage and the bullet misses them both it will go straight into the crowd, and there are people in this crowd-- people with lives, with families, with friends. They might have abilities, or they might not, but once that shot is fired the entire street will become a riot. Remus can hear the screams in his ears, ringing there so loudly it makes the present sound like a graveyard.

"I hear you," Dee says airily, acting like he’s talking to the superhero, but the words loosen the knot in Remus's chest, because he changed his speech, changed his stance, changed how much he knows about the future and now things will be different. The Prince eyes him rightfully warily, because Dee’s biggest weapons are knowledge and words.

"I hear you,” Dee says again directly to the hero, “I hear that you’ve been brainwashed into thinking that you owe something to the people who helped you control your ability, but the truth is… you could have done it without them, on your own. You certainly have the brains and the intuition for it."

He offers a hand out to the hero, casually, fluidly, and Remus almost laughs. He thinks if he opens his mouth again then only thing that will come out is blood and the people next to him will definitely notice that.

"Come with me, Prince of the People," Dee says right as the sniper lines up the shot. "Let’s discuss a better way to protect innocen--"

The gunshot is silent. Remus almost misses it in the collective intake of breath from every living thing in a ninety mile radius. Dee’s hand is out and the bullet catches the sunlight in a brilliant single flash.

-- through his brain at a downwards angle and Remus feels the blood sprinkle over him like sea spray straight from his darkest nightmares. He barely even notices, barely recognizes it, barely cares about it at all, because the next thing he knows Dee’s body is following it down right into Remus’s--

Dee’s skin ripples, his wings disappear. At this distance, Remus can’t tell what it turns into, what he impersonates, what he becomes that can fend off a bullet, but in the end it doesn’t matter at all because The Prince leaps forward with his sword drawn.

Remus blinks and the world feels like it tilts on its axis, spinning faster under his feet. He hugs the crowd barrier to steady himself. That… that isn’t possible. This isn’t what he saw. But there it is: The Prince wraps himself between Dee and the bullet, and draws his rapier so quickly that Remus almost misses it happening. It shouldn’t be possible-- It can’t be possible, but he’s faster than the bullet and somehow the piece of metal veers off trajectory into the stage at their feet and embeds itself there.

“That’s--” Remus’s breath catches, clumping up in a knot in the back of his throat that tastes a lot like blood.

The people in the crowd scream, the people near the front shove to move back, to get away, to find shelter and safety from bullets that were only targeting one man on stage. The police guard springs into actions that Remus can’t focus on because he’s so busy trying to remain upright when gravity is trying to drag him straight down to Hell.

“Are you alright?” The Prince asks, lowering his rapier.

“I--Dee--” Remus stutters.

“Was that... going to hit me…?” Dee asks in a tone that suggests that all the oxygen left the atmosphere.

“I don’t-- I can’t--” Remus swallows a mouth full of blood and it goes down his throat like thick, slow slugs trying to suffocate him. “I swear--”

“Have no fear,” The Prince says. “I’ll protect you. As long as I’m here, no harm will come to you. You have my word.”

“Re,” Dee says. He sounds like he’s several distant planets away. Remus’s hands are red and sticky and he swears if he closes his eyes that he can feel the misty spray of grey matter over his face when Dee falls from the stage, when his body lands in Remus’s arms, when those empty eyes stare up at him and see none of the grief in Remus’s eyes.

“I watched you,” Remus chokes.

He saw it. He knows he saw it and it was real and Dee died and Remus was left all alone like every nightmare he’s ever had. Dee died up on stage in front of the whole world and Remus saw his whole world shatter.

It happened.

“You can’t see the future, Remus!” Roman yelled four years ago and Remus has proved him wrong a hundred billion times over since then. He shouldn’t have to keep reminding himself of that.

“You died,” Remus says. “You died and I watched and I’m sorry-- I’m sorry, sor--”

“That’s all I needed to know, darling,” Dee tells him.

“Pardon?” The Prince asks, realizing maybe for the first time that Dee isn’t talking to him.

“You’re clever, Prince,” Dee says loudly, and Remus hears him so clearly in his earpiece it stabilizes him even when the world spins under his feet. Dee shoves himself out of the hero’s hold, stepping back twice, and looking downright murderous. “Far more clever than I gave you credit for! Did you just try to have me shot? Killed? All so you could look like the dashing hero on screen?”

“What?” the hero says and because he’s an actor Remus almost believes that he’s confused and not threatened.

“You just tried to kill me!” Dee snarls. “In front of all these people?! Because I dared ask a few questions about your motives?!”

The Prince stares at him, and Remus imagines his insufferable mouth is twitching into an awkward smile, like this is a joke that he doesn’t understand but doesn’t want to be rude.

“I assure you that is not the case here,” he says. “In fact I believe it’s far more likely that you arranged to have yourself attacked on this stage to emphasize a point on your part. I suspect you might have some type of protection against bullets, but even if you did I could not stand idle when there is a chance of you being hurt.”

“How noble,” Dee says. “Throwing yourself in front of everyone and asking nothing in return no matter the situation. A true hero complex.”

The Prince’s grip on his rapier tightens, but he says nothing.

“You say such pretty words, Prince,” Dee says. “Tell such convincing lies. You want people to step up and join you in a game of play pretend without realizing there are deadly consequences when abilities get out of control. You want people to follow you, to sing your praises, to believe you can do no wrong…. You’re the hero, of course! They’ll be so enamored with you, they won’t notice you leading them straight off a cliff.”

For a second the world stops turning, time stops passing, the crowd stops moving. Remus feels every atom in the air pressing up against him, itching, pulling, compressing against his skin as his heart pounds in his chest like some type of creature trying to escape his ribcage. There’s a ringing in his ears made from the silence between Dee and The Prince and it’s louder than any scream that the crowd makes, any gunshot a sniper takes, any calm Dee fakes.

“And I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.” Dee offers a complimentary shrug and then he launches across the stage, aiming for The Prince’s throat.

[Chapter Seven]

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candied-peach · 5 years ago

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ao3: “discord symphony” rating: T warnings: some remus typical stuff, pre DWIT, sympathetic remus, sympathetic deceit, intruloceit genre: fluff description: Remus writes a song.

"How's this?" Remus asks, from his position bent over Deceit's desk. They would have met in Logan's room, but the possibility of discovery was a bit too high and Logan wasn't quite ready to explain his relationship with the two Dark Sides, particularly when Thomas remained unaware of one of them. Deceit's room, it was, then.

Deceit lazily lifts his head, uncoiling from the warm spot on the bed.

"I remain all ears, my love," he says.

"As the others might say, 'lay it on me'," Logan contributes, propped up against the wall, his laptop open on bent knees. Remus grins, his smile a little too wide for his face.

"Adam and Eve bought knowledge, for the small price of a little sin," he sings. "They also lost eternal life, but what's fruit without the pits?"

"Apples don't have pits," Logan says, on autopilot. Remus shrugs.

"Say that when it actually happens," he advises. Deceit's eyes flick between the two and he wisely decides not to mention that nothing says it was an apple, to begin with. He remembers the devastating effect misusing 'infinitesimal' had on Logan. Besides, nothing says it wasn't an apple.

"I like it," Deceit chooses to say instead. "Very Biblical. Foreboding."

"Isn't it?" Remus asks happily. "I thought you'd like that, Double D."

"You need more than that, though," Deceit says. "Any more?"

"Working on it, working on it," Remus says, skating his pen through the air as he thinks. "I am the DUKE and it's high time that I dropped in!" He sings it as he writes it, scribbling it down as fast as he can to keep up with his own melody. "And since you haven't puked yet, we'll know they're wrong when they call you sick!"

"Not sure I understand that part," Deceit says, a slight frown touching his lips. "But if it sounds right to you, then go for it."

"I need something for my brother," Remus says, tapping his pen against his teeth. "What epitomizes dull and boring?"

"Unicorns and dragons," Deceit suggests. "That sums up Roman's creativity, wouldn't you say, Logan?"

"He does battle against the Dragon Witch often enough," Logan agrees. "And unicorns are probably a staple of his side of the Imagination."

"They are," Remus confirms with a grimace. "They don't even do anything. Just prance around and look pretty. Mine drink blood," he says proudly. "But could Roman appreciate that? Oh, no, all of a sudden, they're 'scary' and 'perverting the very idea of a unicorn.'" He makes quotation marks with his fingers, nearly poking himself in the eye with the pen.

"Well, I like them," Deceit says loyally.

"I got it!" Remus blurts. "It's unicorn horns and dragon tails, Roman's dull creativity. If you want the spectrum A to Z, then you'll need a little help from me!" He does a little shoulder shimmy in his seat, and Deceit grins. Remus continues, transcribing the words as they come. "From unicorn porn to rats impaled, I give these thoughts generously. If you really wanna challenge your viewership, then you need to stop limiting me!"

"I have a feeling that at some point soon in this, the others will want their say," Logan comments. "Perhaps it would be to your benefit to allow for that."

"Probably," Remus says cheerfully. "I'm good at ad libbing." He waves his pen airily. "Like a box of baby birds in a meat grinder!"

"That...does not really follow from the idea of ad libbing," Logan says. Remus shrugs.

"I dunno, I ad libbed it," he says, and snickers. Deceit can't help but snort at that, and a moment later, he catches Logan's lips twitching into a reluctant smile.

"All right, so assuming I can go into this, how's this?" Remus asks a few minutes later. "People don't like me much, Thomas, but that's only just 'cause I'm honest. Good and bad is all made up nonsense. Thomas, speaking of honesty, recently a snake offered me a morsel from the tree of knowledge." He stops, pointing the pen at Deceit. "That's your cue," he says.

"You wanted to be more honest, so have a good ol' heaping of Remus, the most honest Side in your mind," Deceit says, deadpan. Remus cackles.

"I like it!" He says.

"You want to be more honest and be direct dealing with your issues," Logan suggests. "No longer will you deceive yourself about the ugliness within you. Not that you're ugly, cephy," he hastens to reassure his boyfriend. Remus grins.

"I know what you mean," he says. "It's not like me popping up like a jack in the box at a funeral is gonna make him happy to see me."

"Somehow, I find it fitting that Logan is the one speaking for, presumably, myself," Deceit says, with a slight laugh.

"More ad libbing, I think," Remus mutters, the tip of his tongue caught between his teeth as he writes. "Ooh, how's this? You don't need to feel ashamed with your dear old Duke, you need not feign decency. Do you see this house on fire? I see it, too, 'cause you've got a fiend in me!"

"Nice word play," Deceit says, approving. Logan nods in agreement.

"I like it," he says. "I presume that's a reference to Toy Story?"

"Got it in one," Remus says, pointing the tip of his pen toward Logan. A yawn escapes him as he bends his head, staring at his work, and with a start, Deceit realizes it's nearly midnight.

"Come to bed," he coaxes. "You can finish your song in the morning."

"They plan to film in two days, though," Remus says, rocking back and forth. "I gotta be prepared."

"You will be," Deceit assures him. "I'll keep you on task tomorrow and I'm sure that Logan will, too, when he comes down here."

"Do you promise?" Remus asks. Deceit nods firmly.

"You've done more than enough for one night," Deceit says.

"It is important to sleep and refresh one's self," Logan adds. Swayed by both of his boyfriends, Remus sets his notebook down, capping his pen, and clambers into bed, settling to one side of Deceit and resting his chin on the top of Deceit's head.

"The day after tomorrow's gonna be big," Remus says, vibrating in his eagerness. Logan settles on Deceit's other side, reaching over with one arm and clasping Remus around the middle, briefly stilling him.

"Yes, it is," Deceit agrees. Remus smiles, wide and sharp.

"I can't wait," he says.

tag list: @k9cat @paravigilant-virgil @croftergamer @airiervessel @littlestliu @ambersky0319 @yalltookmyurlideas @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @ihateitwhenyourejustvague @iamthenewqueenofgames @matthindavick @killjoy-3000 @bexxbeauty

#🍬 txt #sanders sides #intruloceit #romantic intruloceit #sympathetic remus #sympathetic deceit #deceit sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #remus #logan #deceit #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #📚#ok to rb #peach writes #janus

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hanaasbananas · 4 years ago

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100 Ways to say I Love You Chapter 8

It's two sugars, right? (Marichat)

AO3

Maybe coming up onto the roof had been a bad idea.

The street below her was quiet so late at night, a silence disturbed every so often by rowdy groups of people making their way home after a night out. Marinette shivered, pulling her blanket tighter around her shoulders as a stray breeze blew her hair around her face.

Warming her hands on the hot water bottle on her lap, she leaned forward, looking down at the homework that was spread out across the small table.

This week's akuma’s had been particularly brutal and this was the only time she got to sit down and actually do her homework, but now that she had the time, the words seemed to blur on the page and she sighed.

Letting her head drop to the table, she closed her eyes. If she just rested for five minutes...five minutes to give her eyes a break and then she’d feel a little more refreshed and able to focus.

Keep telling yourself that , Marinette ignored the voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like Tikki and instead shifted to be more comfortable.

Five more minutes. That was all.

***

It was fifty five minutes later that Marinette woke up. She might have slept all night on her balcony if it wasn’t for the loud thump that startled her awake.

“Huh-wha-” she jerked up, looking around wildly until her eyes landed on Chat Noir, sitting across from her.

“It’s two sugars right?”

“Hm?” Marinette blinked, wondering what kind of dream she was having. It seemed real enough, with Chat standing out against the fairy lights strung up on the railing behind him, and...oh, he was talking again.

“—black coffee, two sugars?” He repeated, pulling out some sugar packets and shaking them.

“Oh, yeah” she stifled a yawn, sitting up straighter and pulling her blanket back up around her shoulders. “Sorry, I’m totally out of it right now. What are you doing?”

Chat Noir shrugged. “Consider this...repayment for the hot chocolate the other day—”

“—you didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to, and no offence but you kinda looked like you needed the coffee. And the pastry” he nodded towards the paper bag he’d set on the table.

Pastry.

Marinette stared at him. “You know I live in a bakery right?” she deadpanned, snickering when the tips of his ears tinged pink, his mouth opening and closing silently. In an effort to avoid her gaze, he turned his attention to the coffee, stirring the sugar in vigorously and shoving it into her hands.

“Okay yeah, you live in a bakery, but..how do you know I didn’t get it from here? Hm?” Chat sat back triumphantly, fixing her with a smug grin. Marinette didn’t even look at the paper bag before responding.

“Because it doesn’t have our logo on it.”

He stared at her for a long minute before slumping in his chair. “Yeah, you got me,” he said glumly “I got them from somewhere else, it was a bit stupid of me.”

“A bit?”

Chat glared at her “no need to rub it in.”

“No, I think it was sweet!” Marinette took a sip of her coffee, savouring the taste “and so is this— how did you know I take two sugars anyway?”

“I’m glad you asked!” Chat grinned, looking anything but. At her raised eyebrow, he continued. “Well we’ve already established that you live in a bakery, so I figured you were likely to have a sweet tooth, but having so many delicious pastries available to you at all times, I didn’t think you’d want your coffee to also be very sweet. So I decided you’d most likely take two sugars, and I was right, so…” he blew a raspberry at her.

Marinette blinked.

Either that had been an impressive amount of bullshitting on the fly, or Chat really had put that much thought into her coffee order. She didn’t know which one she’d rather believe. “Alright, Sherlock Holmes” she laughed at his affronted expression, picking up the bag and pulling out the large éclair, holding it up as a peace offering.

“You wanna split this?”

#Chat ABSOLUTELY bullshitted that last part #whilst freaking out internally the whole time #'I cant say hey im Adrien and i know your coffee order bc i memorised it from when we hang out!'#miraculous ladybug #marichat #chat noir #marinette dupain cheng #100 ways to say i love you

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qveensbury · 4 years ago

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square cut or pear shaped

A/N: i listened to Marilyn Monroe’s “Diamonds are a Girl’s Best Friend” and had to write an engagement fic. Happy birthday, @dasfreefree // @freefree-likes-haikyuu!!!!!

(ao3 & ko-fi links will be in the reblog)

When Kaede took you to get your nails done before your anniversary dinner with Keishin, you got suspicious. Nails are attached to fingers which are used to wear engagement rings.

And Kaede cared enough about aesthetics to make sure your social media engagement announcement photo would be flawless.

If she did know anything, she wasn’t saying.

Noa might have let something slip. But Kaede had an airtight seal.

“It’s been a while since we’ve gotten manicures together, Kaede,” you glanced at her from the corner of her eye.

“I know. All of these work trips have been wiping me out.”

“Maybe I should get flame designs on my nails.”

“...Flames?”

“Yea, like the details they put on cars.”

Kaede smiled. “You’re so adventurous with your nails, ____. But you do have that important meeting with that publishing house next Wednesday. They already mistake you for an intern. I don’t think that design would help. It would be cute for our next girls’ trip though.”

And she was right.

So much for getting her to slip up that way.

There was too much evidence that something was going on. Your best friend took you to get your nails done. Your boyfriend was taking you out to a secret location. And it was to celebrate your two-year anniversary.

It could also be a coincidence. A rational side of you chimed in.

You and Keishin had only been dating for two years. There wasn’t a rush to get married.

Which almost convinced you until Keishin pulled up in front of your favorite restaurant.

Wondering if it’d offer you another clue, you examined what he was wearing— a button down and slacks. He winked at you when he caught you staring.

“Take a photo. It’ll last longer. Let’s go!”

You followed him to the restaurant, holding his hand. Your eyes slightly narrowed as he greeted the hostess.

If there’s a secret signal, I’m going to catch it.

The two of you were seated near a window with a great view of the nearby gardens.

Your favorite restaurant, on your two-year anniversary, with a great view? Keishin was definitely going to propose.

“Are you okay over there? You look like you just laid an egg.”

“Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Just that you planned everything so well. Thank you.”

Keishin smirked at you. “Why do you make it sound like I don’t plan?”

“No no. That’s not what I mean.”

“So what do you mean?”

“That everything is so nice. Thank you!”

“Anything for you, my love.”

Dinner was...okay. You loved spending time with Keishin but waiting for the ring was exhausting.

“Is everything okay?”

“You don’t have to keep asking me that, Keishin.” You smiled, “I’m having a lovely time. Truthfully.”

“Ok."

You were about to go back to playing with your leftovers on your plate when your couple song came on.

Beaming, you looked at Keishin who smiled back. Your hand reached across the table for his.

“Oh, Keishin,” you pulled back to go into your purse, “I almost forgot my gift for you.” Handing him a long rectangular box, you waited for his reaction.

“Babe.” He grinned, opening the box.

You watched his eyebrows rise.

“____, I love it.” He took the watch out and put it on his wrist. The gold band reflected the light beautifully. The white face was classic and understated, much more his style.

“Oh,” you cooed. “It matches your outfit!”

“It does. I didn’t get you an anniversary gift.”

“You’re paying for dinner.” You wrinkled your nose. “I’d say we’re even.

Keishin lifted your hand and kissed your knuckles. “There is another surprise.”

Sitting up straight, your eyes grew. “There is?”

“Yea.” he smiled.

The waiter came to clear your plates.

“What is it?”

Keishin squeezed your hand and you felt your heart race.

“Per Ukai-san’s request,” the waiter set a plate in front of you, “the lady’s favorite dessert.”

“Surprise!”

With your focus on the dessert in front of you, you struggled to hold back your disappointment. “Keishin...I-This is such a nice surprise.” You smiled at him, squeezing his hand.

“You don’t like it.”

“What do you mean? It’s my favorite.”

“They have a new dessert menu if you want to choose something else.” He raised his hand to signal the waiter.

“No, Keishin. This is good.” You chuckled, “I was just expecting something else when you said surprise.” You picked your fork to dig in. “Thank you.”

The patter of Kaede’s feet preceded her appearance at your apartment’s well.

“Hello! Let me see it.”

“There’s nothing to show.” You bent down to take your shoes off.

“____, don’t be dramatic. I want to see the ring.”

“He didn’t propose, Kaede.”

After you finished taking your shoes off, you looked up at her, surprised she didn’t react.

Her nostrils kept flaring. You knew she was fuming. “I oughta clobber him,” she said.

“Oh, feel free to get in line.” You stomped past her. “I totally thought he was going to propose, too.” While you stormed around the house, you recounted everything that happened.

“He has to propose to you soon.”

You shrugged. “Waiting like any moment might be the moment isn’t really fun.”

“I guess it’s a good thing I waited to pop open a bottle of champagne, huh?”

A snort turned into a groan. “My wonderful boyfriend took me on an amazing date to celebrate our two-year anniversary. What a lousy thing to complain about.”

“You’re not complaining about the date though. And you love your boyfriend. A good night’s rest will do you good.”

“Ok, mom.”

“Off to bed, wise guy.”

You did feel refreshed the next day. And looking back objectively, last tonight was a great date.

When Keishin asked if you wanted to go on a walk, you agreed.

It was great walking weather, sunny with a light breeze. Keishin stood up when you got closer to the rendezvous spot.

“Hey, babe.”

“Hey to you, too.” He kissed your forehead and you leaned into him for a hug.

“Anniversary Celebration part 2, electric boogaloo.” You grabbed his hand. The two of you walked towards the cherry blossoms. “The blossoms seem to bloom earlier and earlier each year.”

“They’re probably confused. Winter this year was so warm.”

“I know. Kaede says the only good thing about all of this is that the predictions about the peak are starting to be off. So, she can go enjoy them before we’re swamped by tourists.”

“Yea, she doesn't like tourists.”

“Not at all,” you laughed. “How are Hinata-kun and Kageyama-kun doing? I’m sure they were happy to be back at the school’s court?”

After a moment, you turned to Keishin.

“Babe?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yea, sorry. Got lost in thought.”

“You wanna talk about it?” You searched his face.

“It’s fine.” He shoved his hand in his jacket pocket.

“Ok.” You squeezed the other hand.

“You asked about the freak duo? Yea, they’re happy to be back. I think Hinata’s excited to be vice-captain. He’ll be a great help for the late bloomers.”

“He makes friends so easily. In my humble opinion, it was a great choice.”

Keishin smiled at you.

After your second lap around the park, you tugged Keishin to stop.

“Okay, mister. What’s up? You’ve been so fidgety. Are you sure everything’s okay?” You pulled your hand from his.

“E-everything’s fine.”

“Are you seriously not gonna tell me?”

Keishin looked away from you, muttering under his breath. Then, he grew deathly still. “Look, ____,” he let go of your hand and dug into his pants pocket. “I’ve been carrying this around for month,” he pulled his hand out, “waiting for the right moment. And I’ll tell you: there is no right moment...So, right here,” he motioned around, “under the cherry blossoms, I’m just,” he pushed his hair back, “I’m just going to ask you right now.” He revealed a small jewelry box.

Your eyes grew as Keishin took your hand and got down on one knee. “No way.”

“____,” he cursed, mumbling under his breath. “My hands are shaking. Hold on, I’m really nervous.”

Even if you wanted to tease him or laugh, you were frozen with shock.

“____.”

“Yes.” You tried to memorize everything about this moment: the blond ends of his hair, the way his eyes looked steady, his earrings, the nicer jacket you got him last Christmas, the warmth of hand, the pink of the cherry blossom petals.

“You are the love of my life,” Keishin said.

“Keishin.” A weight pressed against your chest and your eyes started to burn. You reached up to wipe your eyes.

“I can’t begin to describe how important you are to me. We’re just made for each other, you know? And I don’t ever want to know a day apart from you. ____, will you marry me?”

“Of course, Keishin!”

The triumphant grin on his face thrilled you. Keishin sprung up to hug you.

It felt so right.

Being in his arms.

Knowing he loved you as much as you did.

Starting a brand new chapter of your lives together.

#ukai keishin #ukai x reader #HQ!!

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cowandcalf · 4 years ago

Text

Writer’s Month 2020 - To Find A Way

Prompt No. 21 Family

Chapter 1 - 12

Chapter 13 - Family Part III

Danny is hyper-aware of how Steve watches him when he closes the door to the Lanai. He stands in the middle of the living room with Grace still tucked to his chest. As if he has lost all confidence while kneeling at the home shore, panic-stricken, and unable to undo what has clenched aggressive to his mind. Steve looks worn out and Grace seems to rest her head on his shoulder as if she wants to camp there for the next hours or so.

"Okay, that's how it's gonna be," Danny searches for Steve's eyes. He wants to hug him so badly but the least Steve needs now is pity and a weak command. Danny's voice is steady and warm when he speaks. "You babe, you go upstairs and take a shower. A long one. A warm, relaxing shower. If you aren't back in fifteen minutes I'll come and check on you." He squeezes Steve's elbow and gestures to hand over Grace. "Hand me over this little monkey," he teases.

Also on AO3

Steve gifts him with a shy, small smile and hooks his thumbs under Grace's armpits. "Time to move, little princess," he whispers next to her ear.

"God, she's tired from the sun and the excitement. We had quite the adventure." Danny plucks her from Steve's chest. She's half-asleep, totally exhausted from too many emotions, and a tidal wave of adrenalin. "She's going to be fine, babe," Danny assures Steve. He knows it will take a while until they have their equilibrium back.

Steve sighs. He's still folded into himself. He hangs his head and his shoulders slouch uncharacteristically over. "Grace," he calls gently, "Hey, you okay?" He cups the back of her head with his hand. Grace nestles her face into Steve's palm and nods tiredly.

"Steve," Danny puts a hand onto his arm, "let's talk later. Now, we need to get cleaned up, get refreshed. I'll lay her down on the couch for a nap. She's too far gone to eat. She needs some sleep and you need your shower." Danny knows Steve wants to fix everything, wants to make sure he hasn't lost Grace's trust. But it's not the time for that now. "Go, I'll have a shower too," Danny makes a 'duh' face and shakes his head at the way Steve stares at him with a hint of outrage about the suggestion. "Not together, you doofus, after you because you take watch down here to make sure Grace is okay while I shower."

"Okay," Steve nods shortly with a creased forehead. "I'll head upstairs." He turns and walks up to the bathroom. Danny reads all the bottled-up emotions in the way Steve drags his tired body up to the first floor.

Danny closes his eyes for a moment and just listens to Steve's soft footfall, to how the bathroom door clicks shut gently. Grace falls asleep in his arms. Everything hurts. His neck is in tight cords and his eyes burn. Steve's desolateness about what he did out there stays like a cloud in the room. Danny doesn't know if Steve can cope well with the aftermath. He has no idea if incidents like this have happened before or if they gonna happen again. But Danny needs to believe that they'll find a way. Somehow, he's gonna find a way to make Steve leave the place in his mind where he's hiding at the moment. Steve doesn't trust himself and Danny can't do wanders but he has to try at least.

The determined pads of Steve's bare feet fifteen minutes later have Danny look up from where he sits next to Grace. She's fast asleep on the comfortable leather couch, wrapped in blankets. She breathes steadily.

"She's asleep?" Steve asks and comes closer. He wears a soft blue t-shirt with a 'NAVY' print on it, grey sweatpants and his hair is still damp from the shower. He smells clean and the soft pink on his cheeks makes him look a bit more adjusted.

"Yes," Danny gets up. "Lunch is ready in ten minutes. I quickly rinse off to get rid of the sand and that sticky feeling. You okay down here, big guy?"

"Yeah, I'm okay," Steve inches closer. "Danny," he puts his hand to Danny's cheek. His tongue darts over the bottom lip, licking one tiny spot absentmindedly.

"I'm right here, babe," Danny steps closer and covers Steve's hand with his.

"I'm so, so sorry. I didn't know – " Steve makes sure Danny sees his eyes. He hides nothing. "I know I have issues. I don't talk about them. I don't want to face them but today showed me," a low breath stutters from his lungs, "I have to deal with them. I can't put your little girl in any danger. And I can't put you in the position where you think about if you can trust me or not." Steve's eyes are honest and big. "I scared the shit out of you and your daughter. And –"

"What do you want to ask?" Danny has an idea of what Steve's trying to voice.

"Do you still trust me?" Steve whispers. "Do you still want to be with me?" His hand falls away. "I get that I'm a liability. The world is full of triggers and normally… I can control it but not today. If you think I'm a danger to you or your daughter – "

Danny grabs Steve by his shirt and makes him step closer. "Listen very carefully now, Steve," Danny almost hisses. He's churned up from the last half hour. He hates that Steve questions the love and all the rest that ties them together like nothing else Danny has ever experienced in any former relationship. He leans in and kisses Steve with closed lips, soft and long until Steve relaxes against his mouth and kisses Danny back.

Steve is still stiff and reserved but Danny senses his longing to just let go, to make someone his partner so Steve doesn't have to stand in the darkness alone. Danny fists Steve's shirt with force and kisses him again, hard and a bit painful.

Danny whispers against his lips. "Don't talk about yourself as if you're an armed bomb. Yes, I still trust you, and yes, I still want to be with you." Danny shoves him a bit. "Don't ever doubt that. We're in this together. I have issues, too. And yes, you don't talk about it and it sucks that I have to find out how mentally wounded you are." Danny clenches his teeth to suck in a deep breath, to calm his wildly beating heart. He whispers when he speaks again. "How could you even think that I might love you less because of your issues? You're such an asshole! What haven't you understood when I've told you that I love you? Huh? I know how hard it is to get through a trauma that fucks with your mind. But for the sake of your mental health and for the sake of my daughter's safety you have to go and talk to someone. Get treatment, work through the problem. Face the inevitable and admit that you came back with PTSD. It's not a shame and it's not a stigma. You're only human, Steve, for crying out loud."

Danny hears the steady dull thud of his pulse in his ear. Other than that – silence. Steve's soft puff of air brushes over Danny's lips.

It's out. He said it all regardless of the consequences. If they want to build a future, they have to put all cards on the table. No hiding anymore.

Danny watches with a stomach tied in hard knots how Steve's face morphs into an even mask before he gives in and let desperation show. There's disgust too. "I hate to be like this, to be unable to keep control. I hate it." Steve whispers. "I'm trained to safe people not to put them in danger because I can't hold my shit together." He grinds out.

"It doesn't make life easier if you always look the other way the moment the pressure rises and you sense the signs. It makes it worse. I can't ask you to fix it. You have to want it yourself." Danny sighs and spreads his fingers wide over Steve's chest. "Let's eat. We can't fix it right now. Just – don't turn your back on me because you can't accept your own behavior. I can't deal with you crawling back into your shell, locking me out. Don't go all quiet on me. Please." Danny hasn't planned to sound this needy. The fallout is bigger than he has thought. It hits him hard, too.

"I won't, Danny. I promise." Steve leans in to kiss him softly and with aching sweetness. "I could eat." He breathes the words against Danny's lips.

Danny sags against Steve's chest and for a moment the world is okay again. Steve wraps him in his arms and the sway on the spot, shortly indulged in the knowledge that they still have each other, that nothing is lost. Danny knows they're going to make it.

They watch some documentary about an octopus and a man. It's a touching movie and it fits their mood. It explains the balance between mankind and nature and everything is soothing and helps both to calm down. There's no tension in the movie at all. Danny couldn't cope with the smallest amount of excitement. He follows only with half the concentration. The tone is low not to wake up Grace. They eat in comfortable silence. The moment they have finished lunch Steve's leg starts to bounce. His excessive energy is tangible.

Danny can't sit still either and the muse to watch TV just doesn't appear. "What's your plan? What you're up to?"

Steve pulls his leg up and shoves a foot under his thigh. He turns to look at Danny. "I want this afternoon to end well for Grace. I'll put up the children's pool I've bought for her. It's totally safe, not deep and I want to haul a few wheelbarrows of sand up to the lawn. I wanna build a sandbox for Grace right outside the Lanai. We can build a sandcastle there. It's just as good as at the beach. I want her to have a good time after this horror she went through. What do you think?"

Danny rolls his head on the backrest of the couch to meet Steve's gaze. "That sounds great to me." He lifts his head and strokes with one hand over Steve's hairy, strong thigh. "What do you normally do after such an incident? You're brimming with unused strength and unused adrenaline." Danny asks sincerely.

"I would go swimming. Sometimes for hours. I need to exhaust myself. Physical exercises help me to wear me down and to get me away from that edge in my mind." Steve plays with Danny's finger. "Disassemble and assemble a weapon wouldn't be enough anymore."

Danny kisses Steve. "I'll clean the kitchen and then I'll help you, meaning I'll bring the beer and I'll watch you burn your energy."

Steve rests his forehead to Danny's and they just stay like this for a moment. It's almost peaceful.

The day ends just as Steve has planned it for Grace. Danny sits on one of the wooden chairs and watches the brilliant Hawaiian sunset. He drinks a beer and listens to the animated chatter in the close by sandbox. He has no idea how Steve has hauled up all the sand on his own. He must have jogged up and down with the wheelbarrow full of heavy sand. But it has kept him busy. Soaked in sweat again due to a different reason and panting Danny gratefully answered the honest, relaxed smile Steve has shot him when he stepped out on the Lanai with Grace in tow.

They chill out in a relaxed atmosphere and enjoy the end of the evening with ice cream and the movie 'Frozen'. Grace talks excitedly and tells Steve the whole movie and her favorite parts. Danny can tell Steve is so relieved she's still with him and doesn't act strange or anxious he leaps happily into an intense discussion with his daughter about the princess' dress and the color blue and pink.

"Time to go to bed, Monkey." Danny collects the spoons and the empty containers to carry it to the kitchen.

"Danny, let me clean the kitchen. Go and get Grace ready for bed, okay?" Steve gets up from the couch. "Come, little princess, time to go to sleep."

Danny goes through all the evening rituals with Grace. They clean the teeth together. He makes her wash her face twice after she still has some chocolate ice cream around her mouth. He creams her skin with moisturizing lotion and makes her put on her pajamas with the glitter and the colorful fish-print. All the while they chat along and Grace talks and seems to be back to her old self.

Danny tucks her in and pulls the bedcover up to her small chest. "Hey, monkey, would you like to talk to Steve?"

She watches him with big eyes.

"He scared you today. I know, Monkey. And you have all the right to be scared but maybe he could come up and talk to you? Explain what happened? And you could ask him questions?"

She only watches him with her big eyes not understanding what he's asking. They just had a great, chilled movie night. Danny could slap himself for asking adult questions. A child's world doesn't work that way. "It's okay, Gracie. That was a stupid thing to ask. But what would you say if Steve read to you from your favorite book? Would you like that?"

"Yeah. Does he read as good as you, Danno?"

Danny smiles. "I have no idea but I'm sure he's doing a great job. Shall I call him?"

"Okay."

Danny kisses Grace's forehead and wishes her a Good night. He looks around in the fancy, turquoise room Steve painted for his girl. They haven't had time to admire Steve's great artwork in Gracie's room. Danny sighs and smooths his hair back with both hands. He makes sure he smiles at Grace who seems delighted that Steve will read her a bedtime story. Danny finds Steve sitting on the edge of the big bed in the bedroom across the corridor, hands clasp together, lost in thoughts.

"Hey, Steve, you okay?" Danny walks up to him and steps between his legs.

Steve shoves his face into his stomach and places his hands at the back of Danny's thighs. Danny rests his hands in Steve's hair. He gains strength from the way Steve works hard to be there, to put so much effort into the sweet, young but strong love they have found in each other.

"I, uh, I have this address of a support group for veterans. For guys like me, with troubled minds, dealing with PTSD. I never wanted to go. I thought I could handle it myself but it's too much at stake for me. I'll join the group next week, okay?"

Danny gently scrapes Steve's scalp with his fingers, scratching him like a cat. Steve rubs his face over Danny's shirt and his hot breath warms his skin underneath. "Thank you," Danny answers with a tense voice. It means to world to him that Steve wants this just as much as he does. Danny's bone-tired and longs for a good sleep. "Grace wants you to read to her." He tells with a soft voice before he cups Steve's face to kiss him deeply.

Steve looks at him with wonder. "She said that?"

"Yes, she's waiting for you."

"What do I need to do? Just read?" Steve pushes up from the bed and wraps Danny in a full-body hug.

"Yeah, just read, talk a bit and let Grace lead. If she needs to ask something about today, she will. Don't pressure her. You will do fine." Danny leans against Steve's bulk and inhales the strength this incredible man emanates from every cell of his body. "And tomorrow we admire the stunning artwork you created in Grace's new room. You're one of a kind, Steve McGarrett."

Danny senses the smile on Steve's lips in the way he presses his face into the curve of his neck.

Danny dozes off to the low, wonderful voice of Steve reading to his little girl. He wakes up when the mattresses dips and a warm, strong body curls around him. "Hey, babe," he greets Steve with a sleep-rough voice, "how'd go?"

Steve kisses his neck and nuzzles the hair with his nose. "I never thought that it could be so deeply satisfying to read to a child. I watched her fall asleep, Danny. And it's – it's beautiful. I didn't know what to do with all the feelings. Thank you for this. Thank you."

Danny pushes into the curve of Steve's body and snuggles into the warmth and the shelter, he provides. He pulls Steve's hand to his mouth and brushes over the knuckles with his lips. "You're good? Both of you?" He murmurs.

"Yeah, we are. And we agreed to make breakfast pancakes for you tomorrow morning." Steve presses an open mouth kiss to Danny's shoulder. "Sleep, babe."

Danny would have wanted to turn around to kiss Steve like he's yearning since this afternoon, eagerly and raunchy. But he's almost out when the soft-spoken words reach his ear.

"I love you so much, Danny. I love you both so much."

Danny wakes to clatter from the kitchen. The sun is up and he's alone in bed. His heartbeat shoots up and he turns onto the back. He listens carefully and a bit anxiously to the rhythm of the clatter. It's joyful and in sync. It's fluent and smooth. He hears Grace's voice and Steve's low rumble. It's a good sound. It's a perfect sound. Danny sinks deeper into the mattress and breathes out.

God, what a weekend. But whatever it takes. That's a promise he has given himself and Steve. And the way the clatter sounds from the kitchen below says they are doing freaking great concerning what they have gone through yesterday. He smells pancakes and coffee wafting up the stairs and into the bedroom. It's a good morning.

The doorbell rings and makes Danny almost jump out of his skin. A sudden commotion and a hasty exchange of words with another person follow. All of that has Danny sit up straight in bed. There's the other quite familiar voice again and the barking of a dog. Steve talks but Danny can't hear what he's saying. Grace's delighted squeal is followed by another bark. Something wild is going down on the lower floor.

Danny's already up and wants to head down when he hears the front door closing and footsteps running up the stairs.

"Danno! Look who's here!" Grace shouts from the hallway.

Danny clearly hears claws on wood running up the stairs too. Grace burst into the room with the brightest smile on her face and jumps right up on the bed. She beams at him and pats on the spot right beside her.

"Come, Jeanne, come up." She coos.

Danny watches befuddled how a black furry something hops onto the bed and rolls right onto the back, belly up and with a long pink tongue hanging out of its mouth. "Okayyy, Monkey? Who's that and where did you get it from?"

"That's Jeanne. Isn't she cute?" Grace rubs her belly and giggles. "She stays with us for a while."

"Uh-hu?" Danny can't put anything together. How does getting pancakes ready for breakfast fits with a dog sitting on his bed now?

His head shoots up when he sees Steve walking into the bedroom with a tired, cute infant on his arms. A boy with dark hair and bronze skin. He's still sleepy and clutches a worn stuffy to his chest with his head on Steve's shoulder.

Danny barks a laugh and leans back into the pillow. His heart beats a bit too fast. "Whoa, you said you wanted to make breakfast! What happened down there? Since when does the mailman deliver dogs and cute little, tired boys?" Danny's eyebrows arch upwards. Steve's looks adorable. Cheeks flushed and he glows with a tender smile shy on his lips. Danny can't help it. "I realize now you've always wanted a family but it would have been nice if you had asked me too before you ordered."

"Don't be stupid, Danno," Steve chides him with a sweet shyness.

"I'm sorry. That was a bad joke. I'm not a morning person and I'm not really awake yet. So, who wants to solve this riddle for me?" Danny leans over to scratch the dog's fluffy ears.

"Mary's in labor," Steve says and swallows. "This… god, Danny, my sister is about to have a baby!" He sits on the edge of the bed and makes sure the little boy in his arms feels comfortable. He looks down on him and presses his cheek to the boy's crown.

Danny sits bolt upright. "Mary's in labor! Whoa! That's, wow, Steve, that's wonderful, great news but scary, too, I know. You're going to be an uncle soon, babe." He wants to leap over to hug Steve to give him any sign of reassurance that everything will be fine. But Grace and Jeanne roll around in the sheets between them. He's content with circling his hand around Steve's arm. He hesitates a second and runs the back of his fingers over the quiet boy's leg. " Is she alright? Is Mary alright? Does she need our help?"

"No, yes, I mean she's fine, and no they don't need our help to drive her but they need our help to look after them." He nods in the direction of the dog and the little boy. "That was Kawika at the door. He was in a rush to drive Mary to the hospital. She's still early but her water broke and the contractions have started." Steve scoots higher up and stretches his legs in front of him on the bedcovers. "And that black fur-ball, that's Mary's dog. Her name is Jeanne D'Arc, named after the powerful woman because this little girl is from a shelter and she's a fighter. And this here, this is Nahele. He's five and a bit anxious, too much noise and haste for him in the morning."

Danny blinks at Steve and just listens. "You know him and he knows you." He could tell from the way the boy snuggles into Steve's arms, feeling completely safe and protected.

"Yes, Kawika kind of looks after him when his father has to do time." Steve speaks light-heartedly to cover up the severe topic of why Nahele stays at Kawika's and Mary's. He rushes through the next words, "his mom ran off when he was two and since then he stays often with Uncle Kawika and Aunt Mary. His father is an old friend and it's a point of honor for Kawika to look after his son. We've known each other for three years, right Nahele?" Steve bumps his nose gently against the boy's head.

Grace is completely immersed in giving Jeanne the world's best belly rubs.

Danny's eyes sting and he blows out a silent exhale through the nose. He purses his lips. "So, it's pancakes for all of us then?" He smiles over at Steve and can't help but close his fingers tenderly around Nahele's ankle. "Are you hungry, sweetheart?" Nahele hides his face in Steve's shoulder. Danny swallows more. "Do we need to buy dog food?"

"No, Kawika left the key and we'll go by his house later. We need some clothes for Nahele and there's enough dog food for Jeanne."

Danny reaches over and caresses the boy's back with soothing strokes. "Hi, Nahele. I'm Danny and this is Grace and I'm sure, we're going to have a good time. Who's anyway hungry for pancakes?"

Grace leaps off the bed followed by a bundle of joy with black fur. "I've made special ones for us, with chocolate chips and whipped cream. Nahele likes them, too. I'm sure!" She shouts before she runs down the stairs followed by a black shadow.

Steve hesitates and stays. "Look, I'm sorry. I haven't planned this. This weekend just seems to – "

"Shut up, babe. What are you even talking about? It's a great weekend! And would you look at us? We're doing great. Let's make it a wonderful day for the kids and let's get some update on Mary's and Kawika's baby. A baby, Steve, your niece. That's – that's such a gift."

Steve sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and grins. "You're the best and I fucking love you, Danny." He whispers with flushed skin.

Danny just pulls him into a kiss, a gentle, short one not to scare Nahele who seems not to mind a bit.

Sixteen hours later an exhausted but overwhelmed and thrilled Kawika calls to tell them Mary has given birth to a healthy girl. Mother and child are doing well. Steve wipes away tears and Danny tackles him down and presses him onto the couch to finally get that kiss he has wanted since the beginning of Saturday.

TBC

#writersmonth2020 #h50 #fic rec #mcdanno #mcdanno fic rec #cowandcalf writes #ongoing story #prompt fill #one more chapter to go #thanks so much for reading #thanks so much for waiting #WIPs are tough to handle in the wild of everyday life #but i'm almost done #and I can tell you i'm so proud #achieving goals #long chapter

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