#oh no now I feel kind of bad about being so vague and noncommittal about her design and personality and everything
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I've had Ludovicas girlfriend on the brain for months and finally sketched her out. I see her as the opposite to machete in that she has dark colours and softer shapes. Her ears and facefur kinda blend together and she gets big soft browneyes..
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#you've had Ludovica's girlfriend stuck in your brain for months??#oh no now I feel kind of bad about being so vague and noncommittal about her design and personality and everything#I should've made up my mind ages ago#I like her expression here#she looks like a calm and quiet but no nonsense type of lady#at least to me I mean#I'd love to make her uniformly black/dark grey#but I know from experience that it would make her facial details and expressions hard to see#it's entirely possible to make it work but it takes some extra effort#adding even a small focal point (some kind of marking or lighter eyes for example) to anchor the viewer's attention helps a lot#I'm rambling sorry#I think about her often but keep going in circles#but the same thing happened with Ludovica and her design so I'm optimistic that this one will sort itself out eventually as well#I'm flattered ypu find her interesting! I promise I'm working on it#gift art#featherfrond#own characters
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Efe gave him a sharp nod. "Oh, uh, good, good. You know. Keeping things going." This response was appropriately vague and noncommittally polite, but Efe managed to offer it with a smile. Everyone living in Lunar Cove already knew exactly how existence had been lately; with a string of tragedies behind them, maybe they really could only hope for the infrequent string of uneventful days. "Up to you, man. I mean, if you've got a few minutes to spare, it's not a lot of paperwork. I can get it moving right now," Efe droned on, raising an eyebrow as Julian produced a pen. "Hey! Always prepared. That's a point in your favor," he joked, managing a laugh, trying, genuinely, it seemed, to keep the other at ease.
Knitting his brow, Efe crossed his hands on the desk in front of him, offering a soft, reassuring smile. "Don't panic, all right? It's all good, man. I'm not trying to trip you up or catch you or anything. It's a volunteer unit, but it's...a big commitment. We just want to make sure people are really in it. That's fair, right?" He nodded. "Uh, no, of course not. It's a pretty standard examination. We do it for every species, regardless of their strengths. Equal across the board. Eye exam. Reflexes. That kind of thing. There's not a pull-up bar portion, though. Like the Marines. Some species would put others to shame." This seemed to be a joke, but Efe looked uncertain if he was really succeeding at keeping the other cool.
"Mhm. Mhm. That's good. That's good. We really are a team here. You have to know you can rely on the person next to you. Not just when you're out in the field, but...here at the station too, you know? Want to make sure dishes get done and beds get made. Keep everything running smoothly. No slackers," Efe replied. "Don't worry, though. I promise most of the folks here are pretty easy to get along with. We're here to work. Not true of every station, but we're small. Hotheads don't last long. Being a hothead will get you hurt." Efe pursed up his lips, thinking better of himself after a moment. "Not you you. Like, in general." He sighed.
"That so? Never been," Efe hummed, trying to make conversation to help the whole scenario feel less like a graded quiz. Listening intently, although he himself had never worked an office job and could not quite follow all the specifics, he pieced together the pieces. "That sounds like it was a tough situation. But you got it together. Kudos. And you know, I can't say you'll be doing a lot of marketing presentations around here, but...yeah, patience and humility and openness will go a long way. A good firefighter is collaborative. They're flexible. They can adapt to new circumstances. They can control their own emotions under stress. That's really important. So are people skills. I think popular opinion thinks they're not, but...being able to communicate is important. You're going to have to relay vital information to others. You're going to encounter angry or panicked citizens. You're going to potentially have to console people. They're going to wander toward the nearest official-looking person. And that's not to mention all the other constituents we work with. Medical personnel. Building inspectors. It's good that you can work across groups."
Biting his lip, Efe met Julian's eye. "I understand. That's admirable. And I do think you can find those things here. Passion, desire, want...that's a strong foundation. Next step is hard work. Commitment. It's not about glory. It's about...being able to buckle down and meet the responsibility. Lunar Cove has been bad lately, yeah, but...most calls? False alarms. Semi-incidents. Fire drills. You just got to remember that everyone who calls in an emergency is having one of the worst days of their life, no matter how insignificant it might seem. Might not change the world, but you'll make a difference to them."
He managed a laugh. "You keep the speed in check, dude. We all gotta know where everyone else is at all times. No running across the building, all right? Also, don't call me coach. You start, everyone'll start, and I'll never get rid of it." Efe rolled his eyes, but there was good humor it. He extended a hand to shake. "Thank you for coming by, Julian. I'm not the final decision maker, but...I think you're a shoo-in. And hey, I started as a volunteer. You take a shine to it, I'm happy to help you on the way."
Julian flashed a practiced easy smile, all dimples, as the other greeted him. âYeah, fine, man, how about yourself?â Julian realized he hadnât asked the guy how he was doing, in the kind way a normal person would greet someone. Heâd jumped so fast to the point, he almost felt embarrassed about his anxious enthusiasm. In truth, he almost expected to be turned away, maybe they got enough guys in the truck since summer, but Efe mentioned they were still looking and his faltering grin beamed in response. âOh, if itâs easier I could just go onlineâŚâ he trailed off, eyebrows rising when the other man produced a clipboard. Accepting it with an appreciative grin, he took out his favorite liner pen, always on his person, and began scribbling in the prompts on the application.
The invitation for an immediate interview caught Julian a bit off guard. Maybe it was just the nature of the job, having to be ready at the drop of a pin. If he couldnât handle an impromptu job interview, how could he be expected to jump into the fray when a real emergency necessitated it? âOh, uh, okay,â he fumbled a bit over his words, his brows pulling together but he melted back into his usual easy going ways. âMedical examination⌠does me being, like, a vampire⌠is that a problem?â He resumed scrawling in his answers when Efe asked the first question. Head rising, he met the otherâs gaze with a raised brow as he quietly chewed over his answer. âI mean, as far as teamwork goes, I spent a lot of my youth on sports teams, working with other guys to achieve the same goal. Been to state a few times, actually, and I carried that into my collegiate career. But I mean I also have always been in positions that require me to work with others. Biggest thing is doing your part and doing it efficiently, but also learning to understand and work with different types of personalities. Not everyone is going to be easy to get along with, but you can do your part to make it all smooth. As for overcoming challengesâŚâ Did dying count? Not that he did much there, anyway. He swallowed as he thought. âBefore I moved to Lunar Cove, I was working at a digital marketing firm in Philadelphia. I know, not exactly the same as this but it came with its own challenges. One time we were doing a big rebranding project for a client. Complete overhaul of their website, ad campaigns, just a lot of work. It was a long project too, we just had a lot to do and the client was constantly changing their mind on things. When we seemed to get headway on the project, there was a shift at the clientâs company and our initial contact ended up leaving. They hired someone new to fill that spot and the second we got into a meeting with them, they decided they wanted to change everything we worked on so far. That meant a lot of extra work from my team, and it also meant insane crunch time since we were getting close to our contract date.â He sighed, âI called in the team and we brainstormed and together we decided the best course of action was to give this new contact a presentation explaining everything that went into the project so far, the reasoning behind it, why the initial contact liked what we were doing. Long story short, after taking the time and initiative to just lay it all out there and talk through the steps, this contact came around and we continued working on the project form there. They provided some great insight, some different angles and offered a fresh perspective, so we met some of their suggestions for change enthusiastically. Ultimately, we put together a package that was attractive but also proved really productive for the client, and they saw a huge increase in profits from our work. It just took taking a second to step back and show a little grace and patience when being confronted by a new voice in the zone to get back on track and get our act together.â Julian shrugged, unsure if it was a sufficient answer or even helpful for the job he was applying for.
âListen, Iâm not⌠I came out here to talk to you about this because, the truth is I know Iâve been pretty useless when things have gone down around here. Lunar Cove is a nice place to be, but itâs also a scary place to live. You just never know whatâs gonna come your way, what sort of catastrophe is waiting around the corner. Whoâs coming to harm us, and when. I just⌠I really wanna be good, and I really wanna do good. You know? And while I was sure of myself in my life before⌠I havenât done much here to give back, I havenât been helpful when itâs needed. And, truth is⌠Iâve been kinda aimless since last spring.â He swallowed, because it wasnât exactly fun to admit your faults. âYou talked about how doing this can give a guy purpose, how itâs a way to give back to the community. More than anything I can say in an interview, more than any well practiced scripted answer I can give you, thatâs what I wanna do. I just wanna do something that could make a difference, I just wanna help people, somehow. Make this second chance at living I have worth a damn, have it mean something.â It sure as hell wasnât so he could become that world famous artist he always wanted to be, that much was apparent. Maybe it was time to try something new. He placed the clipboard with the finished application down, raising his hands. âI can do a whole lot of crazy stuff with this superhuman strength and speed of mine⌠I want to put it to good use. If I can do that here, with you and everyone else that works here, wellâŚâ He shrugged, a crooked and half confident grin growing on his face, âThen this is where I wanna be. Put me in coach.â
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snark ahead
idk its just bonkers to witness how often ive seen tunglr users easily 'spread this like wildfire!!11' w/ like the most commonplace/preaching-to-the-choir stuff on here and at a certain point it feels wildly performative and self-congratulatory like there's a psa quota we have to reach-- but when it comes to AZE and TUR violence on ARM ppl suddenly start muttering awkwardly and hem and haw with this very quiet but very transparent ohhh-jeez-i-dunno-maybe-it's-both-sides-isms and i think i know exactly where it's coming from, but i also kind of dont care b/c it's not an excuse lol.
and ik this sounds more vaguely accusatory than intended so ill just idk. clarify?? that im not coming from that annoying and pervasive 'x people should and can rb this/you're bad if you don't rb every post about This Thing' angle i see all the time on this site, either. it's condescending and creates this weird artificial pressure on people and makes individuals feel like their Social Justice Quotas are being unmet in the panopticon of the internet --- and i can go on and on and on about why i think that messaging does more harm than good, but im rambling now and that's besides the point.
idk im just tired? like that disconnect btwn western ppl/journalism and the rest of the world. it takes 2 seconds to google shit and if you have any basic media/news literacy you could easily reach the conclusion that: "oh ok what's happening to ARM is fucked up actually and it's literally another genocidal land grab by AZE on behalf of big brother TUR." but you see enough hand wringing and noncommittal language across soc media just enough, banging your head against a wall is preferable to sifting through all that noise.
#xangoeswah#and im well aware that after the past 2 years especially we're all addled w trauma and fatigue#im just ranting. but i get it! im not sitting here with a clipboard scoring internet users on the retweet/reblog olympics#thats not even the point of my bitching at all either. but i felt compelled to touch upon it bc i can see how someone might get that vibe.#but there are ppl out there who can relate w carrying this cultural trauma/grief with you#and the fear of not being taken seriously for w/e rzn.#and ig if i can expect anyone to understand where this frustration is coming from. it's them.
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Love Has a Learning Curve: Part III (x reader)
Summary: Spencer has to face Anita and Samâ and learns a little about readerâs past. Reader and Spencer babysit for Michael and Henry.Â
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader
Category: fluff, a tiny smidge of hurt/comfort
Warnings/Includes: implied smut, drinking/alcohol, vague mentions of previous emotional/mental abuse (Owen)
Word count: 4.2k
a/n: This picks up right after the end of the tmsidk epilogue! I also worked two requests in here.
Series Masterlist
âââ
Spencer stacked the last of the tiny chairs in the center of the room, stepping back and dusting his palms on his trousers. He looked over to see Y/N playing a sort of container tetris with the bins of supplies in her closet. He smiled a little to himself, his head still in the metaphorical clouds with her confession of love.Â
She maneuvered the bins to her satisfaction and shut the closet doors, pushing against them to squeeze everything in until the latch clicked. She turned to see him watching her and wiped imaginary sweat from her brow. She gave him a wink and a grin, and he was falling all over again.Â
She perched on the corner of her desk with a tired sigh, and he made his way across the room to her. She reached for him as soon as he was within arms length, wrapping her arms around his middle. She snuggled into his chest, and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. âLetâs go to dinner to celebrate.â
She laughed and looked up at him. âCelebrate what?â
He shrugged. âYou. Summer.â He brought his arms around her shoulders. âLove.â
She smiled and scrunched her nose at him. âYou just want me to say it again.â
His lips twitched. âMaybe.â
Her hands came to rest on his hips, her fingers squeezing lightly. âI love you.â
âI love you,â he answered immediately and rather dreamily.Â
âYo, Y/L/N!âÂ
The call of her name from the hallway startled them both. Anita began to step over the threshold, continuing, âYou ready to get absolutely crunk tonight orâ oh.â She stopped dead in her tracks, eyes tracking Spencerâs frame. âDr. Reid.â
Spencer stepped back from Y/N, smiling a little awkwardly at the formality and giving a wave. âMrs. Lopez. Itâs, umâ itâs nice to see you again.â
Anita hummed noncommittally, and Spencer shoved his hands in his pockets. She turned her attention back to Y/N. âSo, are we going out or what?â
Y/N groaned. âAnita, Iâm exhausted. Can we keep it low key? Oh!â Her eyes lit up with an idea, and Spencer could already see where this was going. âSpence and I were gonna get dinner to celebrate, umâ summer. Call Sam; weâll all just go together.â
Anita spared a glance in Spencerâs direction before sighing heavily. âFine. But Iâm drinking.â With that, she turned on her heel and disappeared back into the hallway.
Y/N chuckled. âI swear sheâs not actually an alcoholic.â Her eyes landed on Spencerâs face, and she smiled gently. âI know you werenât expecting a Meet the Friends night, but itâll be fun.â
âShe hates me,â Spencer surmised.
âShe does not hate you.â Y/N stood from the desk, pressed a reassuring peck to his lips. âSheâs just⌠protective. Thatâs all.â
âŚ
Y/N was entirely wrong. Anita Lopez hated him. That was the only explanation for her absolutely icy demeanor.Â
Theyâd met up with her and Sam at a Mexican restaurant in Tenleytown. Sam was wonderfully kind and funny, even apologizing for having âflipped him the birdâ the last time she saw him. And it was a good thing Sam was being friendly, because Anita was decidedly⌠less so.Â
Spencer understood completely of course. Heâd broken Y/Nâs heart. Penelope had been ready to hunt her down at the mere thought of him being hurt. As Y/Nâs best friend, Anita had every right to be wary of him. She had every right to hate him. Heâd just... hoped that she wouldnât.Â
Thankfully, Y/N and Sam were more than happy to carry the conversationâ he and Anita chiming in here and there. He learned that Sam worked as an attorney at a firm specializing in family law. She and Anita had two kids, Riley and Sidneyâ one in 2nd grade and the other in preschool.Â
âY/N is still Rileyâs favorite teacher ever,â Sam told him. âI mean, it helps when sheâs also your aunt, I guess.â
âHe didnât get any special treatment,â Y/N insisted. At Samâs raised eyebrow, she laughed. âOkay, maybe a little special treatment. But you raised a good kid! And I canât help it that he was the most trustworthy of the bunch.â
âOh my god, the field trip,â Sam groaned, rubbing a hand over her face.Â
âThe field trip!â Y/N turned to Spencer. âMy group of kiddos from two years agoâ they were kind of a tough group.â
âKind of?â Anita squeaked. âLet me just tell you, I can hear them through the floor. The entire middle school is literally dreading the day they make it upstairs.â
Sam piped in, âI chaperoned on said field trip to the zoo. And I vowed that I will never, ever go on another field trip. Ever.â
âWhat happened?â Spencer asked incredulously.Â
âSo many things,â Sam baited.Â
Y/N covered her mouth to stifle a cackle, leaning a bit into Spencerâs shoulder. He couldnât help but smile, looking around at the three women. Even Anita was chuckling, and sheâd barely cracked a smile all evening.Â
âOkay, so many things happened,â Y/N started, âbut the worst wasââ
âThe poop!â Sam wheezed. âThe poop was the worst part of that day. The smell alone, oh my god.â
Y/N composed herself as best she could, gesturing over the table. âSo after this nightmare of a day, we get on the bus, and thereâs thisâ smell.â
âThe absolute worst smell youâve ever smelled, Spencer,â Sam assured.Â
âItâs awful. Itâs so bad,â Y/N agreed. âAnd Iâm literally going seat to seat, checking to make sure no one has shit themselves.â
âYou could not pay me enough,â Anita chimed in.Â
âAnd I get to the seat that is very clearly where the smell is coming from. And I canât, likeâ hold my nose, right? I donât want to embarrass him!â Y/N turned to Spencer with flushed cheeks. âSo I ask, âSweetheart, did you have a bathroom accident?ââ
Spencer let out a nervous laugh. âOh no.âÂ
âBut oh, it wasnât a bathroom accident,â Y/N clarified, waving her hand. âNo, noâ that would be too easy. This child had somehow managed to obtain copious amounts of poop from one of the zoo animals and packed it into his lunchbox to take home.â
Spencer could feel his jaw drop. âOh my god.â
âSo, he unzips his lunchbox and itâs justâ overflowing with shit.â Y/N dropped her head into her hands, overcome with giggles.Â
âAnd donât forget the worst part: his mom was on the field trip!â Sam lamented, throwing her hands up. âI will never understand.â
Y/N lifted her head with an exasperated grin, and he wasnât sure if it was the story or the fact that she loved him, but Spencer felt like he could float away into outer space.Â
âI told you I had a lot of poop stories,â Y/N reminded him, drawing another round of laughs. As they composed themselves, the waiter came by their table to clear some of their plates and refill their water.
âGod, I said we were keeping it low key, and then I drank half a pitcher,â Y/N complained, pushing back from the table. âIâm just gonna go to the bathroom. Iâll be right back.âÂ
She gave Spencer a reassuring smile, and he tried not to panic as she stood and left him with Sam and Anita. And because the universe was toying with him, at that exact moment, Samâs phone began to ring. She pulled it from her pocket with a sigh.Â
âShitâ Iâve been waiting on this call all day.â She kissed Anitaâs cheek and stood from the table. âSo sorry; Iâll just be five minutes, I promise.â
With that, it was just the two of them, staring intently at their water glasses. Spencer was certain he should say something, but he wasnât sure what. Anita broke the silence first.Â
âYou know whatâs annoying?â
Spencer wasnât sure he wanted to know. âConsidering that the issues one might classify as an annoyance vary for each individual person, there are over seven billion potential answers to that question.â
Anita tilted her head with an unimpressed purse of her lips. Spencer hedged, âAnd I understand now that it was probably rhetorical.â
âI actually kind of like you.â She leaned across the table with an irritated sigh. âI wanted to hate you, but I donât.â
He cleared his throat. âWell, Iâm, umâ Iâm glad to hear that.â
âYouâre good for her. Smart, humble, kind. Enamored with her, as you should be,â she deadpanned. She dropped her chin into her hand. âAlmost as hot as she is.â
He laughed a little at that. âThank you?â
âYouâre welcome.â She dropped her hand back to the table. She still didnât crack a smile, and her gaze bore into him. âI donât know how much you know about Owen, and sheâd probably kill me for saying anything. But he was a real piece of shit.â
This was not the direction he thought this conversation would take. He didnât know anything about Owen; heâd tried not to think too much about anyone Y/N might have been with before him.Â
âIt didnât start out that way.â She drew her brows together. âWell, I donât knowâ maybe he was always an asshole, and he was just good at hiding it.â
She shook her head and leaned back in her chair. âThe point is, I didnât know he was treating her like garbage until it was too late. He was already allâŚâ She gestured wildly around her head. âIn her head, telling her lies about herself, fucking her up, isolating her. For years he did that. And then it took her years to get him out of her head. Toâ unlearn all the lies. To build herself back up.âÂ
He could see her grinding her teeth, trying to calm down. He was intensely grateful to not be on the receiving end of Anitaâs wrath. He was also immensely glad that Y/N had a friend like that. And his blood absolutely boiled at the thought of her ever feeling anything less than adored.Â
âYouâre a fed or whatever, so I shouldnât be telling you this,â she continued, âbut I would love nothing more than to put that fucker six feet under.â She ran her hand through her hair, and when she continued her voice was the quietest heâd ever heard it. âAll that to say, I⌠I wasnât there for her when Owen was destroying her from the inside out. And I will never let that happen again.âÂ
Anita locked eyes with him and her voice was resolved. âI like you, Spencer. And I want to keep it that way. So, justâ donât give me a reason not to.â
She didnât drop her gaze, and he couldnât quite think of the appropriate response. He opened his mouth, and then closed it again. His brain was still fixated on the idea that anyone had ever hurt the loveliest and kindest woman heâd ever met.
âWhereâs Sam?â Spencer turned just as Y/N slid back into the chair beside him, a comforting hand coming to rest on his knee.Â
âSome bullshit from the office that her idiot partner canât handle.â Anita raised her eyebrows at Spencer, and he nodded minutely. She shifted her gaze back to Y/N with a grin. âDonât worry. I didnât scare him too much.â
âŚ
âEasy.â Spencer steadied Y/N with a hand on her waist as they made the way up the stairs to his apartment.Â
âJesus, Iâm so sorry. I justâ really canât drink like I used to.â She clutched a little at the railing, and he held his breath until they were at the top of the stairs.Â
He slipped an arm back around her waist as they crossed to his apartment door, fumbling with his keys and fighting back a shiver as she snuggled close and ran her hand low over his tummy.Â
âCanât believe Iâm tipsy from a couple margaritas.â
âTo be fair, you had four,â he chuckled, turning the key and pushing open the door.Â
âOkay, okay,â she relented. âBut I used to be able to have a whole pitcher and be totally fine.â
âA pitcher?â Spencer laughed as he locked the door and turned to face her. âI canât even have one without being completely incapacitated.â
She ran her hands up from his waistband, over his chest, and wrapped them around his neck. âMmm, so youâre a lightweight.â
âVery much so,â he confirmed, bringing his hands to her hips.Â
âJust one more sweet thing to love about you, sugar.âÂ
He couldnât stop the smile from stretching across his face at the endearment, the way that North Carolina dripped syrupy and thick over every syllable. She pulled him down to meet her in a sweet kiss, quickly deepening it as he dug his fingers into the softness of her hips. Her hands wound into his hair, tugging lightly and holding him close.Â
He broke away to rest his forehead against hers and catch his breath. She laced their fingers together and leaned on him while she kicked off her shoes. He toed his own off and then allowed her to lead him toward his bedroom.Â
She sat him down on the edge of the bed and straddled his lap, bringing her hands up to tangle in his curls once again.Â
Before she could lean in for another kiss, he murmured, âIâve been thinking.â
âSounds dangerous,â she teased, ghosting her lips over his.
âHa, ha.â Part of him wanted to bring up Owen, but she was so happy and warm and comfortable in this moment. He didnât want to ruin this night of celebration. He didnât want to ruin this day that had been so full of love. They had plenty of time to discuss Owen.Â
He wrapped his arms around her middle. âYouâve met Penelope. Iâve met Anita. Now that the school year is over⌠we could tell Michael.â
She pulled back, and the smile she gave him could only be described as radiant, and he knew he made the right decision. âHeâs gonna lose his mind.â
âŚ
A week later, the pair of them were strolling up the sidewalk to the LaMontagne house. Will and JJ were long overdue for a date night, and Spencer had jumped at the opportunity for the two of them to babysit. When they reached the door, Spencer rang the bell and Y/N waited slightly behind him.Â
They could hear the joy from behind the door before it even opened, Michaelâs high pitched giggle and Willâs booming laugh. Spencer was already leaning down in preparation, and Michael absolutely launched into his arms as soon as the door swung open. Spencer clocked the moment that Michael spotted her, purely because he practically squealed and squirmed right out of Spencerâs grip.Â
âI knew it!â Michael cried.Â
He wrapped himself around Y/Nâs legs and squeezed tightly, and she rubbed a hand over his hair with a bewildered smile. Michael broke away to turn back to Will with a grin. âI told you.â
âYou did, buddy.â Will gave Spencer a lopsided smile as Michael tugged Y/N forward by the hand. âMichael had an⌠inklinâ that uncle Spencer might be friends with Ms. Y/L/N.â
âNot friends, Daddy,â Michael said exasperatedly. âHeâs her boyfriend.â
âOh, excuse me, sorry.â Will held his hands up in apology as he stepped aside to let them all in the door. âMichael had a feelinâ that uncle Spencer might be Ms. Y/L/Nâs boyfriend.â
Y/Nâs cheeks had turned a very pretty shade of pink. âWhatâ um, what made you think that?âÂ
Michael waited patiently for her to take off her shoes. âWell firstly, he started picking me up all the time, which was nice but weird. And then he wouldnât stop asking about you. It was kind of annoying.â Spencer made a choking sound, and Will stifled a laugh.Â
âYou guys wear the same shoes, and you both love Halloween and tea and reading. I knew youâd like him if he could be a guest reader.â As he led her into the living room, Michael continued, âOh, and you wore his purple scarf. He doesnât let anyone wear the purple scarf.â
Spencer vividly remembered that morningâ sheâd slept over after a midweek date night in April. The temperatures in DC had plummeted overnight, and the outfit sheâd brought left her woefully under-dressed for the chilly spring day. Heâd wrapped her up in the soft, purple scarf without a second thought.Â
She caught his eye with a shrug, and Will tried not to look too smug. Spencer watched her be dragged further into the house, turning to Will with a sheepish smile.
âWell, guess I canât take all the credit,â Will decided. âWho knew we had a mini matchmaker this whole time?â
Spencer huffed out a laugh as Michael pulled Y/N into the playroom. âThis is the best,â Michael sighed. âNow we can play restaurant forever.â
âŚ
Spencer pulled his legs up in the tiny chair, resting his elbows on his knees and taking a moment to watch the scene in front of him unfold. Usually on nights like this, Michael ran him ragged with demands for magic tricks, story time, and playing pretend. Tonight, heâd actually been able to catch up with middle school (middle school!) Henry, because Michael was totally and completely enthralled by Y/N.Â
She was helping with the last of the setup for the ârestaurant,â organizing Michaelâs menus and straightening his clip-on tie. Of course heâd seen her with kids before. But something about being in this playroomâ one that heâd spent so many hours in, watching two of his favorite kids grow upâ had him feeling warm from head to toe.Â
Henry had bounded down the stairs at the news that uncle Spencer was dating his former kindergarten teacher. He hadnât realized that sheâd taught Henry, too, although with the timeline of her teaching career he should have put two and two together. The generally reserved middle schooler had positively beamed when she gasped out, âGosh, I always forget how tall youâve gotten!â
And now three of his absolute favorite humans were in one room, and he couldnât stop smiling.Â
âHen!â Michael called.Â
Henry turned from his spot in the chair across from Spencer. âWhat?â
âYouâre the chef,â Michael informed him.Â
Y/N tilted her head. âI thought I was the chef?â
âNo, no, no.â Michael pushed her toward the kid-sized table. âYou and uncle Spencer are on a fancy date.â
Henry rolled his eyes playfully and stood from the chair, pulling it out for her like a perfect gentleman. She beamed at him and gave him a wink. âThank you, sir.â
She dropped lightly into the chair across from Spencer and laughed a little at his folded limbs. âYou look very comfortable.âÂ
He laughed and stretched his legs out straight. âThe picture of comfort, really. These chairs were clearly designed with six foot men in mind.â
âIâm sorry Iâm so under-dressed for our fancy dinner date,â she teased, dropping her chin into her hand.Â
âYou look stunning, as always.â He gestured to the messy braid Michael had folded her hair into. âI especially love what youâre doing with your hair.â
She sucked in a dramatic breath, bringing up her hand to pat lightly at her hair. âYouâre making me blush, doctor.â She peeked behind her and then lowered her voice. âIâm probably going to cry when I try to brush the rats out.âÂ
He looked at her sympathetically. âI know the feeling. I think Iâve got a wide tooth comb, and I can help. Iâve gotten pretty good at detangling Michaelâs handiwork.â
Before she could respond, Michael made his way to the table, holding a dish towel over his arm. âGood evening, sir, madam.âÂ
âGood evening,â they chorused, with barely suppressed grins.Â
âCompliments of the chef.â Michael held out his hand to reveal two slightly smushed strawberries.
âOh, wow,â Y/N said, eyes wide and gesturing to Spencer. âHoney, do you want toââ
Spencer waved his hand, eyeing the berries warily. âNo, no, please, help yourself.â
Y/N held back a smile and accepted the strawberries, holding them carefully in her hand and turning her attention back to Michael. âThank you so much. What a wonderful appetizer. Could we hear the specials?â
That helped Michael remember the menus, and he pulled them from his pocket and cleared his throat. He handed them the construction paper menus. âOur specials tonight are roasted octopus and a steak tartar.â
From the kitchen, Henry mumbled, âTartare.âÂ
âTartare. Steak tartare is our special,â Michael corrected.Â
âHmm, I donât know if Iâm that adventurous. Maybe my boyfriend is though,â Y/N told a grinning Michael. âWhat do you recommend for a picky eater?â
âMy favorite is the chicken nuggets.â
âWell then, sign me up. One order of chicken nuggets.â Y/N handed him the menu.Â
Spencer was still perusing the menu for Le Chateau LaMontagne. He smiled at Michaelâs handwriting, but particularly at the places where he could tell Y/N had helped. âEverything looks delicious,â he finally decided, âbut, you know... I think Iâm also going to have the nuggets.â
âŚ
When the boys were finally in bed, Spencer and Y/N settled down in the living room to untangle the mess of her hair. She sat on the floor in between his legs as he gently pulled each braid strand free. He smiled at the way she arched up into his touch, shivering when his fingers brushed over her neck.Â
âYouâre lucky,â he remarked, laying the last braid strand back into its original place. âMichael seems to have gotten a little better at braiding.â
She leaned her head back into his hands. âYou detangled the whole thing?â
âMmhm.â He leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead, then her nose, then her mouth. She brought her hands up to hold him against her, trying to deepen the kiss before laughing at the awkward angle and giving up.Â
He sat up as she stood and moved to the couch, snuggling up close to him and tucking herself under his arm. âIâm very lucky,â she agreed. âFor many reasons.â
Her hand drifted to rest on his tummy, her fingers immediately tracing little shapes over the fabric of his shirt. He pressed a kiss into her hair. âAnd tired, too.â
âHmm?âÂ
He leaned his cheek against her head. âWhen you get tired, you, umâ you start drawing on my stomach.âÂ
Her finger paused. âDo I?â
âYeah.â She shifted to raise her head to look at him, and he shrugged. âI donât mind. Iâve justâ noticed.â
She smiled a little sleepily. âYou know I love all of you. But Iâ well, I donât know, really. I just like your tummy.â She gave it a quick squeeze. âItâs justâ nice and comfy and perfect for resting on.âÂ
He covered her hand with his own and leaned forward to press their mouths together. She drew his bottom lip in between her own, sucking a little and then giving it a quick peck before pulling back and stifling a yawn into his chest. âMan, I am tired.â She snuggled back into him and resumed her tummy tracing. âWhat, umâ what else have you noticed?â
He rubbed his hand down her arm and pulled her impossibly closer. âYou like to play with my hair.â
âMmmm, guilty as charged.â
He smiled at the sleep creeping into her voice. âI like it, too.â He ran his fingers up to her shoulder, and then back down to the crook of her arm, soothing her closer to sleep. âHmmmm. You always have at least one point of contact on my body at all times. Itâs usually your hands, but sometimes itâs your head or even your toesâ like when you tuck them under my leg.â
âUghâ Iâm sorry. Clingy and putting my feet on you,â she mumbled.
She might have been joking, but Anitaâs words were replaying in his head. He couldnât change what had happened in the past. He couldnât go back and prevent her from being hurt by someone else. But he could be different in every way. He could be open and honest and vulnerable with her like heâd promised.Â
âIâm not sorry. I love all of you,â he murmured, pulling her in closer and repeating her words back to her.Â
âEven my feet?âÂ
He could also show her that there was absolutely nothing that he didnât love about her. âEspecially your feet.â
She huffed a sigh into his chest. âYâgot a foot thing I donât know about?â
He laughed a little at that. âOnly for yours. Theyâre very cute feet.â
âYouâre weird,â she muttered, but she hugged him tighter when she said it.
âYou love it.â
Her fingers on his tummy had come to rest comfortably just above his waistband, and he knew she was on the very edge of sleep. âMmhm. Love you.â
He thought of all the little moments over the past few months.
Doesnât live up to expectations? Sorry for overstepping. Are we dating? Sorry for being clingy. Sorry for taking so long to tell you. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.
âI love you, too,â he murmured. âSo much.â
âââ
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#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid#spencer reid x you#spencer reid imagine#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds self insert#homoose writes
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Okay, soo can you write a pseudoincest one for Midoriya? I feel like heâll be shy at first & the reader will be the one to approach him (in a non sexual way of course) but then one day heâll just break & pin her against a wall. :> hehe
Okay okei ok lissen listen litsen
Midoriya and his sister are picture-perfect step-siblings. From the moment they met each other, the two have gotten along great, perfectly at ease with each other.Â
Warnings! - NSFW, cunnilingus, dub-con. Pseudo-incest.Â
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Itâs easy to relax around the green-haired man, with how smiley and soft and completely non-threatening he is. Youâve met plenty of men that are the complete opposite; men that make your skin crawl when they look at you. But your stepbrother isnât like that - youâre pretty sure he doesnât even know what a girl is, considering heâs never even shown interest in one.Â
You like hanging out with him. Going with him to get coffee every Saturday morning (his treat), plopping down in the bean-bag chairs in his room and completely wrecking each other in Mario Kart, even doing mundane things like laundry or homework is always more fun with Izuku around. it doesnât hurt that the man is a little too kind for his own good, always offering to do your laundry for you, asking if you need help on any of your homework. Heâs always happy to drop whatever heâs doing and come help if you get frustrated with a problem.Â
----
The two of you were watching a movie, parents gone out on date-night. Both of your gazes were zeroed in on the screen, you clutching at Izukuâs sleeve at every jumpscare, your brother leaning forward and mumbling about cgi and the mechanics of the fake monster suits.Â
A sex scene came out of no where, gross. This always happens with semi-decent movies, and it was so awkward. Thankfully, it was just you and Midoriya in the room (if your parents were here, both of you would be red and embarrassed and suddenly interested in the thread count of the couch cover) and it wasnât that long of a scene. You were still shy though, turning away from the screen to fiddle with your sleeve, look at the texture of the ceiling, pick at your nails.
A load screech drew your attention back, thinking that the movie had returned to the monsters and the chasing and the thrill. You were wrong. In full HD, there was a semi-nude woman, chest tastefully covered by her ripped shirt, a man kneeling in front of her. The man was moving his face against her, the shots being vague but not needing much brainpower to figure out what was happening. You frowned.
âWhat is he doing? Thatâs so gross.â
You felt Izuku shift beside you, the man looking down at you. Itâd be weird if you looked at him now, saw your flushed, embarrassed face. Why was the man on the screen putting his face down there?
â(Y/N)...... do you..... do you not know?â
He was just as shy as you, stuttering over his words. Know what? Sure, you werenât exactly experienced in the realm of physical pleasure, but you thought you knew the basics.
At your confused silence, you saw Izuku drag a trembling hand over his face.
âItâs uh... well, you see... when a man and woman love each other very much-â
âSeriously  âZuku?â
You turned to look at him. He was blushing just as hard as you, movie now forgotten.
âOkay, uh, itâs-itâs oral. I guess kinda like a blowjob, but for girls.â
âHow would that even feel good? There isnât anything for him to even like...â You trailed off, regretting blurting out the first thing that popped into your head. Gosh, you sounded like a kid, Izuku probably thought you were so dumb. âNevermind, letâs just forget it.â
Izuku was still looking at you, nervously shuffling closer.
âYouâve never....?â
âOf course I have!â You spluttered, rising from the couch. Now you were angry, embarrassed, humiliated. Izuku thought you were so stupid that you didnât even know how sex worked. Itâs not like you were currently seeing someone, not in the four short months since you moved into the Midoriyaâs house. But youâd had experience in the past! Maybe nothing past penetration, but that still counted as experience!
Izuku rose with you, hands held out in front of him as he tried to salvage the conversation. âI didnât mean! Not like that anyways...... I was just...â
He waved noncommittally with his hands. You crossed your arms, waiting for him to continue. Izuku was a bit on the shyer side, and you knew that talking about sensitive subjects made him stutter and blush, lose his cool and all. You were willing to be patient, expecting an apology. You got anything but.
âI just mean... I could like, uh... s-show you?â
Your jaw dropped.
Before you could speak, Izuku was rushing on, his words jumbled and breathless. âYâknow? Itâs just like the uh, well the nice thing to do. It-it feels really good and I know youâd enjoy it, well, I-uh I think. I mean, I-I do... enjoy blowjobs! I could teach you how to do that too, if-well, if you want. We donât have to do that toda-â
ââZuku, no...â
You cut him off, staring pointedly at the ground. This was the weirdest situation youâd ever been in. You couldnât look your brother in the eye, this was just too awkward.Â
There was a beat of silence.
Automatically, your feet started carrying you towards the stairs, towards your room where you could play on your phone and forget this whole thing happened.Â
Izuku grabbed your arm.
âWait, wait, just.... câmere?â
You grabbed Izukuâs arm, trying to pull yourself away from him. âIzuku, I really donât think-â
âNo, no donât-donât think. just... just let me...â
The man was pulling you back, giving you a gentle push onto the couch. This was so weird. A hand splayed across your chest, keeping you stationary as you tried to sit up, and Izuku was kneeling. The man pried your legs apart, despite you protesting.
ââZuku, this really isnât something I wanna do right now, please donât touch me like that.â
Izuku raised a finger to his lips, before yanking down your shorts. You squealed his name in surprise. He groaned.
âOh, oh, thisâll feel so good, just-just trust me, okay? You know I wouldnât hurt you.â
He was still pressing down on your chest with one hand, ignoring the way your panic rose as his other hand gently caressed your leg, climbing higher and higher. You knew he wouldnât hurt you, but this was making you uncomfortable. The thought of your stepbrother doing oral or whatever made you squeaky. You didnât know what to label the feeling - only knew it was bad.
You gasped when a finger pressed against the fabric of your panties; began tracing your folds, prodding at your mound. Your hands flew down to grab his wrist, to push him away, but Izuku wouldnât be deterred.
Izuku was so much bigger than you, so much stronger. You couldnât stop him when he pulled your panties to the side, shoved his face between your thighs, close to your cunt. A yelp left your throat when cool air blew gently across your pussy. He was - he was literally blowing on your pussy.Â
You shivered.
âHey, please I donât wanna do this âZuku, please let me up. Stop doing that, I wonât tell dad, I wonât tell anybody! Please just let me up.â
Your pleas were ignored
A finger began slowly brushing against your cunt, as if Izuku was afraid to touch, afraid to break. You groaned; never in your life had you given that area this much attention. âFeels - feels weird.â you whined, drawing Izukuâs green eyes away from your clenching cunt and up to your face.
âItâll start feeling good In a second, donât worry. Iâm taking care of you (Y/N), just like I always do.â
Your stomach flipped. This didnât feel like him taking care of you.
âI-Iâve been wanting to do this for so long... god, thank you.â He was almost whispering, you barely caught the tail end of his sentence before a hot, wet tongue was licking up the length of your pussy.Â
âAh! w-wait!â
Izuku didnât listen. HIs first lick was slow, calculated. The green-haired man was savoring your taste, licking his lips before diving back in. The sensation was good, you were writhing and squirming in Izukuâs hold, but now for an entirely different reason.Â
He quickly became feverish as he drooled over your pussy, pausing occasionally to gather the moisture in his mouth and spit. Then heâd let his tongue spread the wet around, flicking rapidly against your clit.
ââZuku, âZuku! I canât - stop, stop!â
It was so wet, and so, so messy. It was downright filthy, the way his tongue was suckling and lapping and dancing against your sensitive pussy. You were losing your mind, trying to free yourself from Izukuâs grasp, escape the intense stimulation that he was attacking you with.
Your orgasm hit you so fast, you barely had the chance to gasp out a stuttered, weak âCumming!â.Â
It felt so good it almost hurt.
The hand on your chest stopped anchoring you to the couch, but you were defeated, boneless. You stopped pushing at Izuku, let yourself lay back and try to catch your breath, sweat making hair stick to your forehead.
The green mass of curls between your legs bobbed gently as Izuku gave short, teasing kitten licks to lap up your juices, loving the way you twitched and whimpered as he played with your sensitive cunt. You were too tired to fight him.Â
When the man finally stopped, leaned back on his heels and wiping a hand across his face, you didnât want to look at him. Instead, you buried your face into one of the couch cushions, hiding from your older step-brother.
âI love you.â
You had loved him too, but not in the same way. He was your brother, your friend. What was he now?
Izuku reached forward, slid your panties back into place so they covered your pussy, giving you some semblance of privacy. You felt the couch dip as he sat next to you, far too close to comfort. It was hard to believe what he had just done.
You couldnât possibly know that he was going to do more.
#yandere#yandere oneshot#yandere boku no hero academia#yandere midoriya#Yandere midoriya Izuku#izuku midoriya#mha midoriya#midoriya x reader#bnha midoriya#tw coercion#tw dubious consent#stepbrother#stepbro#shy midoriy
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Misfits - Chapter 2
Fandom: Star Wars - Clone Wars / The Bad Batch Pairing: The Bad Batch / Reader (Polyamorous) Rating: M (Rating May Change) Tags: Polyamorous Relationship, Force-Sensitive Reader, Slow Burn
Work Summary: After a year working with the 501st, you've been assigned a new post - Clone Force 99, aka the Bad Batch. You're concerned about the transition - you found it hard enough to fit in with the 501st, and now you had to acclimate to an entirely new squad. As it turns out, the Bad Batch is very accommodating.
Chapter Summary:Â You're started to settle in with the Bad Batch. Introductions are in order, but one in particular leads down a path you never expected.
read it on ao3 | or read more below
You had said goodbye to Rex only a few minutes prior. He had wrapped you in a tight hug and told you not to get into too much trouble, and you had to try really, really hard not to start crying in front of your new squad. Heâd waved as you entered their transport, and instead of dwelling on those emotions â loss, sadness, anxiety â youâd pushed them to the back of your mind. You learned long ago that acting as if they didnât exist wouldnât help anything, but right now, you needed to compartmentalize. You hardly knew these men, and you didnât want to freak them out by sobbing about leaving your best friend behind.
The men in question had since been introduced to you by Hunter. The tall, slender clone who liked to lean against the side of the ship like some half-baked deathstick dealer was Crosshair, a sharpshooter and sniper. You probably should have figured that, judging by the tattoo that encircled his eye. When Hunter introduced you, he had made a noncommittal noise, looked you up and down, and then decided you werenât very interesting, instead walking his way back to the cockpit. You hoped he was just antisocial, and didnât hate nat borns, or women, or something.
The big burly one was Wrecker, who had wasted no time in offering you a big smile and a firm clap on the back. Honestly, you thought he was going to hug you â and maybe he was, and then he thought better of it.
âYouâre our new Jedi, huh?â he had asked with a broad smile? You offered him a somewhat hesitant one back â he was intimidating, after all. He was broad and muscular like you had never seen on a clone before, and the large scar that encompassed half of his forehead and a good portion of his scalp was distracting. It made him look hardened and dangerous, but with his jovial tone, you soon found out he was anything but menacing.
âYeah, guess I am?â you answered with a nervous laugh.
âSheâs a force-sensitive, Wreck, not a Jedi. She doesnât answer to the Council.â Hunter had clarified. You were somewhat shocked that he cared about the difference â but, then again, he had seemed pleased that you werenât a part of the Order, likely because it meant you had less rules to follow.
âOh, yeah!â Wrecker had grinned, clapping you on both shoulders now, as he leaned down to grin at you. You had laughed a little harder, because you were starting to see now, by both his force signature and in his voice, that he was really just a big goofball. âI never liked the Jedi anyway!â
âWerenât you just expressing how excited you were for âour new Jedi?ââ
That had come from the one with the glasses â er, goggles? You werenât exactly sure what they were, or if he needed them for his bad eyesight or just tactical reasons. Either way, he adjusted him on his face as Hunter introduced him as Tech. It wasnât difficult to figure out what his specialty was â much like it was easy to deduce that Wrecker liked to punch things in addition to blowing things up. Tech, of course, handled a lot of technical issues and data â but you were actually shocked at the fact that he wasnât, well⌠tiny.
Tech was taller than Hunter, and even Rex, as he peered down at you through his glasses. He took your hand and shook it â you could tell just by his grip that he was used to intricate work â robotics, droid work, rewiring datapads â fiddly things that required a steady hand. You had nodded politely to him as he greeted you.
The last member of the team, and perhaps the most elusive, was Echo. He was paler than the others, and studded with prosthetics â most prominently, the jack that his hand had been substituted with. He had an aura about him in the force that spoke of pain â not the pain of war that the rest of the squad exuded, no. This was a deeper pain, something profound and lasting, and you had a feeling it had to do with that arm, and the bolts in his skull, and the way his cheekbones still looked sharper than that of even Crosshair.
âYouâre from the 501st?â he had asked, after Hunter had led you to the cockpit and left to look at something in Techâs travel plans for the route to their next mission. You were alone, but Echo still gazed out the front of the transport into hyperspace, his flesh hand fiddling with the textured armrest of the captainâs chair.
âYeah â Iâve worked with them for the past year, most of the time. I get contracted out from the unit to do a lot of stealth work that the Jedi obviously canât be pulled for. Stuff like this, I guess,â you shrugged. Echo had hummed in acknowledgement, glancing at you, almost curious.
âWere you with the 501st when Captain Rex last worked with⌠Clone Force 99?â
The wording was strange. Rex had mentioned to your that this squad usually referred to themselves as âthe Bad Batchâ due to their mutations. But Echo was more cautious â he almost hesitated on the name. His force signature didnât give away much more â it only told you that he was being careful with his words, that he didnât trust you quite yet. Which, honestly, was to be expected.
âNo. Anaxes, right?â Echo nodded, and you shook your head. âNo â I was on a stealth mission. Well, I guess it couldnât really be called a stealth mission⌠I was working with a pirate named Hondo Onaka. Think I might have rather been on Anaxes.â
You chuckled, trying to make light of it. You knew Anaxes has been a mess, and honestly you had felt horrible leaving behind the 501st in order to take on what you considered a useless political mission. You knew the campaign had been long, grueling, and complicated, and you always felt guilty when you werenât by Rex and Anakinâs side to help with something so important.
âAh,â Echo made a soft noise, picking at some scoring marks on his socket arm. You bit your lip at the awkwardness that permeated the room, the conversation stagnating at Echo dwelled on⌠something.
âI used to be a part of the 501st,â he finally admitted, glancing up at you. His eyes said more than his lips â there was sadness, there. It was hidden behind his soldierâs veneer of indifference, but you could tell by the way he looked at you that his transfer to Bad Batch hadnât been as straightforward as your own.
âYeah?â you asked, sitting down in the co-pilotâs chair next to him. He nodded, sighing, relaxing into the chair before shooting you a glance.
âYeah. Made ARC trooper at one point. Me and Fives â me and Fives.â
His eyes had gleamed the first time he said it â but as he repeated Fives, his face fell, and your own did as well, your first clenching.
âOh,â you breathed, and he glanced at you, ducking down to try to make out your expression.
âYou knew him?â
âHe talked about you â I had â Iâm stupid,â you laughed, trying not to think about Fives. You hadnât known him or Tup long before the incident, but Fives had showed you the ropes, along with Rex. You got along with him easily â he had been funny, and kind, and if he tried to flirt with you a few times you just put it up to you being the only woman available.
You remembered him talking briefly about Echo â he had only mentioned Echo once, with gritted teeth and a set jaw, mumbling something about a previous mission, and how he and a fellow ARC trooper had handled the situation. You could tell that it pained him to mention his comrade â that this Echo had likely died â and you didnât press the subject. You knew, even then, that Fives didnât deal well with loss. Ironic, then, how he was the one to cause so die, to cause the grief himself.
âI worked with him, beforeâŚâ you gestured vaguely, and Echo nodded, not wanting you to mention Fivesâs death himself.
âHe thought I died at the Citadel. Everyone did,â Echo sighed, staring out at the hyperspace lane. âMaybe I did.â
You stared at him. In the force, his emotions were a tangled mess â grief, both for Fives and himself. Pain â not only physical, but emotional, spiritual. You couldnât fathom what happened to him â you could look at this physical evidence of his cybernetic appendages, more similar to those of a droid than any prosthetics you had seen before. You could see the pallor in his face, the way his cheekbones jut from his face, how he had squinted far too severely in the light of the Coruscanti sun. He had been through something that you couldnât fathom, something you would never truly understand, even if he did wish to explain it to you.
But despite that, you could still feel him in the force. When he spoke of Fives â the way his signature sparked let you know that he didnât just know Fives. You could tell they had worked together for years, that they had likely grown up together. The rest of the Batch â their signatures sang in harmony because they had grown up together, because they had known each other for many years. And you initially hadnât caught onto Echoâs dissonance â the way that he was trying to fit in with them, but how he didnât fit in quite as easily as the other men. And now you knew why. It was because, while he had changed, he still held onto those bonds. Rex, Fives, the rest of the 501st â even though whatever Echo had endured, those were still his brothers.
âNot completely,â you mumbled, looking down. You could feel Echoâs eyes on you, so you sighed and continued. âYou â you still care about them. Those men. They may not be your men anymore â and I guess they arenât mine, either â but you care for them. That has to count for something.â
When you looked up, Echo caught your eye. His expression was unreadable, and his signature betrayed nothing. He was hard to read already â the cybernetics clouded your judgement â but you could tell that he didnât exactly know what he thought of your statement.
âYeah. Maybe it does,â Echo mumbled to himself, staring out across hyperspace, as stars flew by, exploding behind his eyes as he contemplated his place among them.
After that, the silence wasnât quite so awkward. It was comforting, almost. You knew that it wasnât the same â that although you and Echo were both former members of the 501st, that the circumstances were wildly different. But you still felt a kinship with him. Because he still knew Anakin, and Rex, and Fives, and Jesse, and Kix, and all the others. Because he probably played the same drinking games you had with the men, he had fought beside them as you did, and he had watched them die, as you had. You knew he wasnât ready to talk, and perhaps he never would be. But if he ever was, you would be ready to listen.
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Wolfstar Au!: Hot and Cold (pt 2 of Parties and Morning Regrets)
@icitlali asked if there was a second part and um- yeah i wrote this, there may be more parts to come
pt 1
pt3
read it on ao3
Remus thought inviting Sirius up was the right thing to do which is the only reason he did. He dared to let himself hope but he didnât really want to see Sirius. Still, Remus had manners and it was so cold outside that his own fingers were turning purple. Leaving Sirius out in the cold and making him probably walk home seemed too mean, even for Remus. Although, he thought Sirius definitely deserved it.
He followed Sirius up to the flat, Lily looked more than surprised when she saw Sirius come in and gave Remus another look. It was one of those looks that Remus didnât like getting, the weâre-going-to-talk-about-this-later kind of look. He shrugged it off, too preoccupied with his bloody hip.
âRemus, did you really walk all the way here?â Lily crossed her arms over her chest as Remus closed the door behind them.
âYeah, so whatâ He replied through gritted teeth. âIâm going for a shower to wash off the smell of stale alcoholâ
âYouâre going to be the death of me one day, Remus Lupinâ Lilyâs voice called to his retreating back. âSirius, how are you?â
Remus heard vague small talk as he navigated his way to his bedroom. The pain in his hip wasnât unbearable exactly. It was just bad enough for it to consume all his thoughts. All he needed was a warm bath, some painkillers and to limit his movements for the rest of the day. Easy. Unfortunately, the bath would have to wait until later though seeing as it would probably be rude to soak in the tub while having a guest over.
Showering after a night out was always a pleasant experience. He emerged from the shower just a couple minutes later with damp hair, a stolen pair of Lilyâs yoga pants and a clean jumper.
âAh, hereâs the idiot who has no regard for his healthâ Lily smiled as Remus walked into the kitchen. âAre those mine?â
âMaybe, painkillers please?â He walked across the room and leaned his chin on Lilyâs shoulder.
Sirius watched the interaction between the two with some hint of longing in his eyes. Remus wasnât sure why, maybe it was because he had never been so casually touchy with anyone but now him and Lily were even closer than they were in school.
Lily wrapped an arm around his waist, rubbing circles on his hip. âSirius, thereâs a small pill bottle in the cupboard just there-â she pointed to the right above her head â-would you mind grabbing it please?â
Sirius blinked for a moment, seemingly frozen at the sight of them. Then, he nodded. âYeah- yeah, I got itâ
He passed Lily the retrieved painkillers without looking at them. Lily hummed gratefully in return, easing Remus, who had hid his face in the crook of her neck, off her. He leaned back against the counter and Lily switched the kettle on.
âI promised Mrs Pettigrew from next door that Iâd pick up her groceries todayâ Lily turned to Remus, glancing at Sirius, âand do a bit of cleaning for her since her grandson is out of town, do you think youâll manage?â
âYeahâ Remus breathed out. âDonât worry about me, Iâll be okayâ
Lily pursed her lips and looked to Sirius again. âMake sure he stays home, yeah?â
Remus made a noise of protest as Sirius nodded, âI doubt heâll want to listen to meâ
âLily, I can take care of myselfâ
âHardly, youâre in a right state after being without me for a few hoursâ She scolded, âIf you strain yourself any more then youâre going to really fuck up your hipâ
âI canât fuck up something thatâs already fucked, can I?â
âI mean it, take it easy and donât be an idiotâ
âAlright, fineâ
âAnd I want to talk to you laterâ
Remus paled a little at that, despite fully seeing it coming. He made a noncommittal sound and Lily, satisfied with herself, left the room to layer up on clothes and help the nice old lady who lived across the hall.
There was a tense moment when she left. The kettle went off and Remus poured himself a cup, then paused. âTea?â
âSureâ
Sirius seemed more relaxed now that Lily had gone. It was as if he had been on best behavior when she was there and now he didnât have to be. Remus couldnât really blame him, Lily could be very scary sometimes and she was always unreasonably overprotective of Remus. In all fairness, he felt the same way towards her.
So Remus poured two cups of tea and then added milk and sugar accordingly. He had assumed that Sirius took his tea the way he did back in school and he was only a little ashamed he still knew what the other man liked in his tea off the top of his head.
âAm I allowed to ask about the accident?â Sirius picked up his cup and took a sip.
âWhy do you want to know?â Remus retorted, taking a painkiller.
âLily wouldnât tell me⌠and IâmâŚ. worriedâ Sirius looked embarrassed to admit it but he did admit it which was good enough for Remus. It showed some sort of growth, some kind of potential.
âDepends on whether youâre going to pity me or not because frankly, I donât care much for itâ
âJesus, you donât have to be so snappyâ
Remus scowled at him, not saying another word. He didnât care about being snappy in that particular moment. His hip hurt like hell, he could feel his leg slowly going as well and whenever he told people anything about the accident they all treated him like a fragile porcelain doll.
Sirius cleared his throat before speaking again. âI wonât pity you, if you donât want me toâ
âWhat do you want to know?â Remus asked, disregarding what Sirius had said.
âWhat happened?â
âI worked at this publishing place, had a late night so I took a cab homeâ Remus began, even thinking about that night made his heart race and his eyes sting. âSomeone was driving under the influence and hit us- the cab, I mean.. and it was really bad but they put these screws and plates all in my side, shoulder down to my shinâ
Remus paused a moment, wiping his eyes on the back of his palm. Sirius made to touch him but he jerked away, a little too fast and hissed in pain. Sirius retreated his hand, looking crestfallen.
âAnyway, I had to quit the job cause it was too far to walk and I refused to get in any type of car or bus or really any type vehicle since thenâ Remus rushed the end of the story, his hands were shaking and his throat felt tight.
Sirius took a step forward and this time Remus allowed him to. He carefully opened his arms and slowly wrapped them around Remus, giving him more than enough time to move if he didnât want this.
Remus, however, was just exhausted. He collapsed right into Siriusâ arms which tightened around him. The bad thing was, he was still shaking, his lungs refused to take in air and oh, there was the whole thing about just falling into his ex-boyfriendâs arms. Good thing was, he felt safe.
Then he started crying, his own arms wrapping around Siriusâ waist while his arms were around Remusâ back. He was pretty sure the only reason he still remained standing was Siriusâ strength forged by years of playing rugby. Remus wanted to kick himself, everything about this situation was just so pathetic and he hated it. He hated himself for it.
Sirius, meanwhile, said nothing and just rubbed circles on the taller manâs back. âIâm sorry, Iâve been horrible to you and now youâre literally comforting me, maybe I am the assholeâ
âNah, I kind of deserved itâ
âYeah you didâ
âHey! youâre not supposed to say thatâ
âBut itâs the truthâ
âShut upâ
Remus let himself laugh quietly. He was mortified by this display of vulnerability and dearly wished the ground would open and swallow him whole. Then he made a feeble attempt at pushing Sirius away, nearly toppling over himself. He had to grip the counter behind him to stop himself from hitting the floor. Sirius made to catch him but Remus swatted his hand away.
âI think you should goâ
âBut I promised Li-â
âIâm tired and sheâll be back soonâ
Lie. Remus knew that Lily would be gone for at least two more hours, maybe more if Mrs Pettigrew offered biscuits.
âThen Iâll just stay till she comes back, she really worries about youâ Sirius shrugged like it was final and Remus didnât want to talk about it so he slowly hobbled to the living room.
âDo you-â
âNoâ
Sirius started asking but Remus snapped at him before he could finish his question.
âSorryâ Sirius mumbled, hands up in surrender. Remus could feel eyes on his back as he managed to get to the couch. He switched on the telly, laying on the side of his body that hurt the least.
Remus figured that if Sirius didnât leave, then maybe he could ignore him to the point of leaving. Unfortunately it didnât work because this was Sirius so instead of sitting on the chair near the couch or even on the floor, he stood at Remusâ head. Hands were gesturing for Remus to sit up but he ignored them.
âRemus, squish over a minuteâ
With a groan, he turned onto his back and sat up. Sirius slid into the open space and Remus turned so that his feet were at Siriusâ lap instead of his head. He wasnât sure how his body would react if Sirius started gently twirling strands of his hair and admiring them as if they were made of gold.
Remus closed his eyes, feeling fingers tracing shapes on his exposed ankles.
Suddenly Sirius spoke. âYou and Lily have gotten really closeâ
His eyes shot open, a little startled by the tone. He wasnât sure how long he was out but he definitely slept at least twenty minutes.
âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â His voice was groggy with sleep, the side of his mouth damp from drool
âItâs weird, Iâve never seen you so much as hug anyoneâ
Remus wiped the side of his mouth. âPeople are allowed to change and Lily is my best friendâ
âItâs just- youâve changed so much and Iâm struggling to keep upâ Siriusâ tone was strange, the most un-Sirius thing Remus had ever experienced him do since they met.
Remusâ eyebrows knit together, a frown now playing on his face. âThe world doesnât revolve around you, yâknow⌠besides, I donât have to change according to your termsâ
âI never said thatâ Sirius spat.
Remus sat up in response, leaning back on his elbows. âThen why are you constantly bitching about how much Iâve changed?â
âBecause you have! Itâs like youâre this whole new person and I donât even know youâ
âI havenât spoken to you since we were 17, that was 6 years ago and you expect me not to change?â Remus ran a hand through his hair. âFuck, I went to college, I got in a horrendous car accident Sirius, do you really expect me to be the same person I was when we were teenagers?â
âNo- itâs just, I donât like changeâ
âFucking hell Sirius, the world doesnât care and guess what? thatâs constantly changing tooâ
âYeah but not as drastically as you! You work in a bakery for Christâs sake when I know you always wanted to be a writerâ
âAnd I know you vowed to never work for your parents and here you are, doing daddyâs dirty work no doubtâ
âRemusâ
âWhatâ
âYou were never this cruelâ
âNo, I suppose notâ
The two sat in silence, and it took all of Remusâ willpower not to kiss him.
âCan we just be friends or somethingâ Sirius looked sincere enough, good natured enough for Remus to want it.
âSomething? Something like wh-â
But Remus never got to finish his sentence because suddenly Siriusâ knees were straddling his hips and they were kissing.
What the fuck!
Remus wanted to scream, he was tired and annoyed and now he didnât know what to feel. He pushed Sirius away for a second time that day, both their breaths coming in uneven.
âNoâ Remus breathed out, shutting his eyes tightly.
âNo?â
âYes, no⌠I canât⌠what were you thinking?â
Sirius looked both hurt and surprised but Remus wasnât concerned about that, he was more confused than anything and also there was the almost unbearable pain in his hip.
âI- well you were being cruel and this is the only way I knew how to shut you up effectivelyâ
Now it was Remusâ turn to look hurt, he pushed Sirius again with more force than before. He brought his head back down and refused to say another word.
âRemusâ
Nothing.
âRemusâ
He shut his eyes, willing himself to go to sleep again.
âIâm sorryâ
âRemus, Iâm really sorryâ
âI know I shouldnât have said thatâ
âI did want to kiss you, I also wanted you to stop being meanâ
âCome on Moonyâ
Remusâ eyes shot open at the childhood nickname. âLeave me alone Sirius, Iâm tired and soreâ
âAre you cross?â
âWith you?â
Sirius hummed in response.
âYeah but mainly cause Iâm tiredâ
âOh, Iâm sorryâ
âJust stop talkingâ
Sirius did just that. Remus felt bad though, he very carefully and hesitantly moved again so that his head was on Siriusâ lap. âIâm sorry for being a dickâ he whispered, eyes closing again.
âIâm sorry for not thinking before I speakâ came Siriusâ soft reply.
Remus felt Siriusâ fingers move through his hair tentatively as if he was uncertain whether or not this was allowed. âNo, Iâm being a moody git, all hot and cold on youâ
âI couldnât blame you for itâ
âWell you shouldâ
Sirius didnât reply and Remus remained on the side that didnât hurt him, facing away from Sirius and towards the telly.
#marauders#remus lupin#sirius black#the mauraders#modern marauders#marauders au#marauders fanfiction#marauders fic#wolfstar#wolfstar fanfiction#wolfstar angst#wolfstar fic#sirius x remus#remus x sirius#lily evans#okay but i love writing lily and remusâ friendship so much#they remind me of me and my best friend
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This is for @bardingbeedle who yelled at me in the tags and then on messenger and ultimately inspired me to write some âlorge soft steveâ and tbh who am I to refuse. (also high-key inspired by this masterpiece of fanart I RBed [again] earlier today)
(takes place shortly after the events of Avengers Assemble episode 2x07, aka the best fic none of us ever wrote)
(heed the READ MORE!)
***
Tony is hustling from one meeting to the next, all but literally running into the kitchen for a cup of afternoon coffee, when he spies Steve Rogers bent over the communal living room coffee table. That in and of itself isnât exactly outside the realm of normal Steve Rogers activitiesâthe man does love a good brood, even if he wonât admit it and doesnât do it as often as he used to.
But Tony wracks his brain for possible reasons why Steve would be hunched up around the shoulders like heâs expecting a body blow any minute and keeps coming up empty. Not even fresh coffee makes his synapses fire faster. Did they forget his birthday? Impossible. Did someone send Captain America hate mail? Uh, doubly impossible, especially because Tonyâs got lawyers screening their mail for that kind of stuff (theyâve got more than enough pressure in their day-to-day lives, time-slip dinosaurs and age regressions notwithstanding).
Maybe Steve found a piece of upsetting news, or some fact of modern history that isnât sitting well with him? Thatâs a lot more likely.
Before he can remind himself that Pepperâs waiting in his office to put him on a call with the president of MITâsomething about a commencement speech, if memory servesâTony is sauntering into the living room, nonchalant, tongue already prickling with some smart remark. Heâs got it all written out in his head like a perfect line of code up until the moment heâs standing in front of Steve and sees the expression on his face.
âWhoa, who ran over your puppy?â
Tony winces, wishing for the millionth time that his mouth and his brain could work together simultaneously, but no. Worse, Steve doesnât even answer himâhe just frowns harder, if thatâs even possible, and folds in on himself like his shoulders alone donât take up half the length of the massive couch. Tony lowers the hand holding his coffee and blinks.
âSteve?â
âOh!â Steve jumps upright, and quick as a flash moves something vaguely folder-shaped behind his back. âTony! I didnât hear you walk inâdonât you have a meeting right now?â
Something in Tonyâs chest squeezes at the sight of that smile and at Steveâs impeccable attention to detail. But really, ever since the incident with the Time Stone, when heâd jolted back into his adult body and come to in Steveâs arms, heâs felt completely knocked off-balance. Now everything about Steve Rogersâthe man, not the superheroâis a revelation. Every smile, every word, every look has Tony tripping over his own feet, tongue, thoughts. He may be back in his adult body, but heâs never felt more like a prepubescent teenager with a crush, fidgeting in place under Steveâs gaze.
âIt got postponed,â he lies, because whatever has put that pinch between Steveâs eyebrows is way more important right now. âWhatâs up?â
âNothing!â Steve replies, too loud and too quickly. Tony gives him a look. Steve flushes, shrinking in on himself even further, like he wants the couch to devour him. âUh, nothing important. Just an anniversary I forgot about.â
Now itâs Tonyâs turn to frown. He likes to think heâs got a solid mental calendar of important dates for all of his teammates memorized at this pointâNatashaâs move-in, Bruceâs lab incident, Samâs SHIELD acceptance, Steve being found in the iceâbut none of those are today.
âGot room for one more?â Tony asks, nodding at the scant space next to Steve on the couch when the man gives him a questioning look. Steveâs cheeks immediately go a charming shade of pink, which churns the coffee in Tonyâs empty stomach with a vengeance. Steve shifts to press himself against the arm as Tony moves to sit down next to him, almost crushing the folder Steve had hidden earlier in the process. Thereâs a gasp, and a lightning-quick hand, and then Steve, pale and breathless, is holding a manila folder against his chest like itâs the secret to the Super Soldier Serum.
Itâs weirdâTony knows Steve trusts him, and vice versa. They wouldnât have solved the riddle of the Time Stone if they didnât trust each other. So to sit next to Steve, whoâs gone from morose to terrified in the three minutes since Tony walked into the room and feel a wall between them is jarring. And upsetting. Heâs only been nursing this crush for a few days, and Steveâs not that perceptiveâŚis he? Maybe he is. Maybe this is Steve weeding out Tonyâs feelings before theyâve even had a chance to grow.
Tony shakes his head at the thought. No, Steveâs a lot of things, but cruel isnât one of them.
âCare to share with the class?â he asks, gently so he doesnât spook Steve. It seems to work: Steve relaxes, tension falling from his shoulders as he eases into Tonyâs presence. He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, but keeps the folder pressed securely against his sternum. Tony tries hard not to steal a glance at the way Steveâs shirt pulls across his broad, thick chest as he breathes.
âItâs nothing.â
âCap, if it was nothing, you wouldnât be trying to Honey-I-Shrunk-Myself into the couch right now.â
Steve Rogers in active wear doesnât cut quite the same figure as Steve Rogers in full Captain America regalia, itâs true, but that doesnât mean heâs small. Like this, heâs just as large and has just as much presence as he does in uniform; itâs justâŚmore human. Less Captain, more Steve. Both are devastating in their own way, but only Steveâfriendly, blushing, awkward, unassuming Steveâmakes Tony acutely aware of the distance between their bodies, down to the last electrified hair.
Catching his own breath, Tony puts his full mug on the coffee table and drops his hands into his lap, turning his head to watch Steve chew on whatever words are fighting to come out. Be patient, he tells himself. Whatever this is, Steveâs struggling with it, and Tony can have some tact when he wants to.
Finally, Steve closes his eyes and sighs. When he lowers his hands, the folder goes with them. Tony glances at the cover and almost swallows his tongue.
âIs thatâ?â Steve makes a noncommittal sound, like a âyesâ but softer, uncertain, like heâs not sure Tonyâs reaction is a good one. Tony swallows his excitement with a wince. âIs that the Project Rebirth file? I told Fury to give it to you a long time ago, but I wasnât sure he did.â
Tony is so preoccupied looking at the folder he doesnât hear Steveâs gasp or notice his eyes lock onto him. âHe did,â Steve replies quietly after a pause. âBut thatâs isnâtâŚthatâs not what this is about.â
Thatâs kind of a surprise. The sudden appearance of the Project Rebirth file would explain Steveâs face and body language, but if itâs not thatâŚ
Steve hands the entire folder over to Tony without another word.
âUh,â Tony gapes, too awestruck to achieve any kind of higher brain function.
âLook at the date,â Steve says. Itâs not an order, just a gentle request, but it doesnât prevent a shiver from rippling down the length of Tonyâs spine. If he was hyperaware of the space between their bodies before, itâs even worse now with Steve leaning every-so-slightly toward him and reaching out a hand to point directly at the date written on the faded label.
22 June 1943
Tony blinks. âItâs the anniversaryâŚof you?â He opens the folder without a second thought, and the first thing he sees is a picture of Steve. There are other things in the fileâsheaves of what look like medical reports, heavily redacted memos, and carbon copies of typed lettersâbut the only thing Tony can focus on is Steven Grant Rogers circa 1943. The Steven Grant Rogers of before.
Heâs touching the photo before he can stop himself, being so, so careful as he traces the narrow shape of the man in the photograph while the real, supersized thing sits next to him.
âItâs the first time Iâve really had a chance to sit and think about what it was like, before,â Steve says, unprompted. âEverything happened so fast once I got the serum, I didnât have time to justâŚtake it all in. And then I went into the ice andâwell. You know the rest.â
All skin and bones, this man, back then. But the jut of his jaw is the same; the serum didnât change that, or the flinty stubbornness in Steveâs eyes, or the proud set of his shoulders, just daring the world to try and fuck with him. Tony smilesâSteve before the serum is like a matchstick, short and thin and always one spark away from bursting into flame. He really didnât change a bit.
When Tony finally looks up from the photo (not gazing, of course not), he sees Steveâs expression has gone pinched again, his arms now crossed in front of his chest.
âAlright, thereâs that face again. Out with it, Cap.â
Steve really shouldnât bite his lipâitâs bad for Tonyâs health. But Tonyâs comment does get him to smile a little bit, which is good. âI guessâŚitâs been over seventy years since I got the serum, but most days I still feel like that skinny guy in the picture.â Tony watches him as he speaks, taking in the faraway look in Steveâs eyes, the shrinking posture, the downward turn of his mouthâwho says I canât be observant, Tony thinksâand wishes he and Steve were the kind of friends who hugged outside of catastrophic cosmic events. God knows it looks like Steve could use one, as wound up and tense as he is right now.
âIâve broken so many things by accident because I keep forgetting Iâm this, now,â he says, gesturing broadly at himself with one hand. Frowning, Steve uses that same hand to brace his forehead, elbow dropping down onto his thigh. The man is the picture of misery, and Tony aches to comfort him. Itâs a physical pull in the pit of his stomach, urgent and needyâlike if he doesnât get his arms around Steve Rogers right this second, something important inside him is going to malfunction.
Tony shoves his hands under his thighs and nods. âDr. Erskine could turn you into a super soldier,â he says softly, âbut he couldnât erase the first 27 years of your life.â He doesnât speak his next thought aloudâthat if there was in fact a way to erase those years, Tony would have signed up for the very first clinical trial. Itâs a grim thought, and not something Steve needs to hear right now, but itâs been on Tonyâs mind ever since his brief return to adolescence, and itâs a hard one to shake.
But what Steve heard seems to help. He peeks at Tony through his fingers and swallows loud enough even Tony can hear it.
âYeah,â he rasps, âsomething like that.â
âWhat else?â
âWhat?â
âWhat else is bugging you? About this?â
Steve lowers his hand and stares at Tony. Stares. Itâs such a feeling, being stared at by Steve Rogers, Tony can feel the heat climbing up from underneath his t-shirt. Even the arc reactor feels a bit warmer in his chest.
âHow could you tell?â
âYouâre still doing your level-best impression of a Shrinky Dink, Cap,â Tony replies. âKind of hard not to notice.â
âI have no idea what that is,â Steve laughs, a hoarse, dry sound, âbut youâre not wrong. I guessâŚI donât know. Itâs hard to put into words.â
âTry.â
Seriously, when Steve looks at him like thatâlike he did when Tony soared through the air as Iron Kid, all awe and pride and warmthâTony feels capable of anything. Anything. Heâd bottle that feeling, if he could, just like heâd bottle the color of Steveâs hair in the afternoon light coming in through the living room windows right now, all warm, pale yellows shot through with gold. If the photo in the file were in full color, Tony would bet his fortune Steveâs hair would be the same shade it is now.
Because Steve Rogers has always been perfect. Damn him.
âI still feel small,â Steve says, and any thoughts of hair and perfection derail abruptly. Looking into the middle-distance past his nose, he continues, âI donât fit in this body. That doesnât make sense, butâitâs like the super soldier is a mold, and Iâm just there rattling around inside it, too small to fit. Does thatâdoes that make any sense?â He looks at Tony imploringly, begging him with his eyes to understand. Tony feels that tug again, worse now, to wrap his arms around Steve and hold him tight. Call it returning the favor for the other day with the Time Stone, call it acting on his crush, whatever.
No one so large has ever looked as small as Steve Rogers does right now.
âIt does,â Tony croaks.
âReally?â
âReally. I mean, how do you think I feel inside the suit?â
Steve makes a sound at thatânot a whimper, not a gasp, but something hovering between the two that splits Tonyâs heart right down the middle. âI never thought of it that way,â he whispers. âBut thatâs it. Thatâs exactly it.â Visible relief fills Steveâs lungs and makes his entire body go lax, leaning closer to Tony in the process. Tony, of course, is hyperaware of Steveâs sizeâeveryone except Thor and Hulk is small compared to himâbut now heâs equally aware of whoâs operating the Cap-suit, so to speak.
âThe only difference is, I can take my super-suit off,â Tony says, pinching the underside of his own thigh to cut off a laughâSteve hasnât seen The Incredibles yetâand continues, âyou canât. Thatâs bound to make a guy feel uncomfortable, even you, Mr. âI can handle anything you throw at me.ââ He elbows Steve a little, good-naturedly, for emphasis, and gets a full, beautiful smile for his efforts.
God. Skinny or huge, Steve Rogers is gorgeous. It really shouldnât be allowed.
âYeah, good point.â Face still split by a smileâI put that there, Tony preensâSteve leans against the back of the couch and sighs. âThere are things I miss, though. About being small. I didnât think I did, untilâŚâ He glances at Tony, then, and thereâs no missing the blush creeping up his neck.
âUntil?â
âThe other day,â Steve replies. âWhen you de-aged, and Iâwhen weââ Tony bites his tongue so hard heâs pretty sure he tastes blood. Donât interrupt. Let him get it out. Steve laughs breathily. âWhen I hugged you, I was so glad I was in a position to protect you, physically, like that. But later on I kept thinking about how much I miss being the protected one, sometimes. Not always, but. Sometimes.â Steve looks at the photo and sighs. âI keep thinking about what it felt like when ma looked after me when I was sick, or when Bucky put himself between me and the bigger guy because he knew I couldnât take another hitâŚsure I resented it a little, being so weak, but I likedâŚthat.â
âYou liked being cared for.â
The look Steve levels at Tony could drive away a storm.
âYeah,â he husks. âI did.â
âAnd now that youâreââ Tony waves a hand at Steveâs everything, ââthis, you think you donât, what, deserve care?â
âMaybe?â Steve blinks. âI donât know.â
âCapâSteve,â Tony says, putting his hands palms-up in his lap so Steve can see all of him. No threat, no judgment. âEveryone wants to feel cared for. Itâs human nature. And just because youâre superhuman doesnât mean youâre inhuman.â
Damn if those therapy sessions Pepper forced him into arenât paying off big time right now. If the sheen in Steveâs eyes is anything to go by, Tonyâs hit the nail right on the head.
âOh,â he breathes.
âYeah,â Tony smiles. Butterflies be damned, he moves the project file onto the coffee table next to his now-cold mug and turns toward Steve. Slowly, he opens his arms. âCâmere,â he says, so quiet only Steve would hear if anyone else was around. As it is, theyâre alone in the tower, and Steve doesnât hesitateâone moment Tonyâs arms are empty and the next heâs got 240 pounds of solid muscle curling into his chest and Steveâs tucking his big head under Tonyâs chin like the worldâs neediest Bernese mountain dog.
Thankfully, Tonyâs arms are just long enough to fit all the way around Steveâs massive shoulders. And even if they werenât, heâd find a way to make it work.
Knees knocking together, feet brushing up against each other on the carpet, Steve shifts and adjusts until he can wrap his arms around Tonyâs waist. Once he settles in, he sighs right into the notch at the base of Tonyâs throat. âThank you, Tony.â
âAnytime, big guy,â Tony replies, softly with a warm smile he thinks Steve canât see.
#bardingbeedle#steve rogers#tony stark#pre-getting together#stevetony#stony#stony fic#superhusbands#rachel writes fic#HAPPY JUNE 22#KINDA#ignoring the fact that I'm posting this at 0130 on June 23 :3#insecure steve rogers#insecure tony stark#tony and I see the same therapist lol#stovetuna writes#and yes 22 June is apparently the MCU date of Project Rebirth#PERFECT TIMING
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Month of Miracles Day 10 - Sunset
Find the prompt list here!
Hallmark Movie AU Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12Â | Part 13 | Part 14 (end) | Read Month of Miracles on AO3
Luka took his time getting back to the farm. When he got there, he didnât go inside. Just went out and did whatever chores he could find. He didnât go back to the house until the sun was setting, and even then, he didnât go inside. He just stood on the porch, leaning against one pillar. His hand found his pocket and pulled out a cookie wrapped in cellophane. Luka unwrapped it slowly, tucking the wrap in his pocket, but he just looked at it for a minute, and then up at the sunset colors streaking the sky.Â
âAre you gonna eat that?âÂ
Luka jumped and looked over. Juleka leaned against the opposite rail of the porch, eyeing him in her sidelong, indirect way.Â
âAre you going to eat that cookie?â she repeated, with a little toss of her hair. âOr just stare at it all night? Because if you donât want itââ
Luka made a motion as if to throw the cookie into the bushes, and Juleka yelped, lunging at him. âHey!âÂ
Luka laughed as he dodged Julekaâs grab again, holding the cookie over his head. It wasnât quite as easy as it had been when they were younger, as Juleka had grown quite tall, but she still couldnât match his reach.Â
âJerk,â Juleka pouted, kicking his shin. Â
âShrew,â Luka snorted, hopping back a little.Â
âFine,â Juleka huffed, folding her arms as she turned her back to him and folded her arms. âBe stingy and wasteful. See if I care.â
âHey, Jules?â Luka said, settling back against the porch railing and looking again at the cookie in his hand. It was shaped like a mitten, with a cute snowflake design drawn in icing on it. Marinette had given it to him when he finally managed to pull himself together enough to let her know he was leaving. Her work was a little smudged from being wrapped up before it had set, but it was still a pretty thing.Â
âWhat?â Juleka demanded, when he didnât continue.Â
Luka sighed, and resigned himself to the awkwardness of asking his little sister for advice. âHow did you know Rose was someone you couldnât live without?âÂ
Juleka tilted her head slightly and narrowed her eyes at him. âIs this about that girl?â she asked. âThe one Rose was so excited about? Should I tell her ship is sailing?âÂ
Luka groaned. âPlease donât. I shudder to think of what she might do if she thought it actually had a chance of happening. Not that it does,â he added hastily, looking away. âSheâll be going back to the city after Christmas, and thatâll be that. I already know I canât live like that.âÂ
âDo you really know that?â Juleka mumbled, her eyes sliding away from him. This sort of conversation always made her uncomfortable, and Luka felt bad about it, but he needed someone to talk to. âOr...do you just know that you canâtâthat you donât like the rockstar lifestyle?âÂ
Luka tried to hide his grimace at her near slip. It shouldnât hurt, the idea that sheâd almost said canât handle it, because it was the truth and it was mostly something heâd accepted, but...failure didnât feel good. Even when failure actually meant succeeding too well.Â
âI mean,â Juleka continued, brushing her hair back and brushing nonexistent dust off the black puffy coat she was wearing over her purple velvet dress. âThereâs ways to live in the city and work off your music without being in the spotlight all the time. Itâs not...impossible. If you wanted to.âÂ
Luka made a noncommittal noise, looking down at the cookie for a moment before looking back to the sunset. For a while they were silent, watching the colors flare and brighten and then begin to fade.Â
âIt was like something I didnât know was missing,â Juleka said all in a rush, startling Luka out of his thoughts. âMaybe that sounds cheesy, but...itâs the truth. Meeting her was like...some part of myself settling into place, and it was kind of like...oh. There you are.â She shrugged, and as the glow of the porch light seemed to grow brighter as the outer world got darker, he could see that she was blushing. She glanced at him and then away. âIf you make fun of me Iâm stealing your cookie and shoving you off the porch.âÂ
Luka chuckled. âNo, I wonât. Iâm happy for you, Juleka, really. I just...I donât know. I barely even know herâŚâÂ
Juleka shrugged. âYou see people.âÂ
He looked at her in surprise. Juleka hunched in on herself, half disappearing into her coat. âYou do,â she mumbled. âYou always have. Maybe you forgot, being out there,â she gestured vaguely. âBut youâve always been like that. And...if you think thereâs something special about her, youâre probably right.â She shrugged. âPlus Rose likes her a lot.âÂ
âI donât know,â Luka sighed.Â
Juleka shrugged. âYou donât have to know. Just...see what happens. Thereâs still time. Go with the flow and quit worrying about it so much. Who knows, maybe she doesnât even like you.âÂ
Luka rolled his eyes. âThanks.â
She eyed him. âCan I have the cookie now?â
âNot a chance,â Luka said, taking a big bite of the cookie. His eyes widened as he looked at it. âWow, thatâs amazing.âÂ
Juleka groaned. âYou suck,â she muttered, turning to go back inside. âI hope you freeze.âÂ
Fiction Master Post | Month of Miracles
#quickspins#monthofmiracles2020#hallmark au#lukanette#endgame lukanette#lukanette endgame#luka couffaine#marinette dupain-cheng#miraculousladybug#miraculous ladybug#ml fics#promptfics#quickfic
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i've faltered a bit because my plot doesn't really work so i'm trying to work something new out but i would also write 50k of these two just talking to each other with no regrets
---
How long have you been together?â Jake says, holding out her empty wine glass like itâs a microphone. Theyâre in her and her wifeâs apartment, Emma and Tobin sitting side by side on a pristine white couch.
âA year and a half,â they say, dutifully, âbecause the half makes it sound less like weâre blatantly lying.â
âGood,â Jake says, smiling. âWho proposed?â
âI did,â Tobin says, âbut not because I think men have to propose. I proposed because sheâs the most amazing woman that Iâve ever met and sheâs too busy changing the world to think about proposing to me first.â
âI still like that answer,â Emma says, smiling and nudging him.
âSo will Trish Taylorâs millions of loyal listeners,â Jake says. âAlright, letâs try one off the cuff: why havenât you moved in together?â
Tobin falters and Emma turns toward him for a moment before she says, âWeâre saving ourselves for marriage.â
Tobin chokes on a laugh and Jake rolls her eyes.
âYou try,â she says, gesturing at Tobin, who gets a deer in the headlights look before taking a deep breath and talking straight to his hands in his lap.
âWe. . .were trying to take it slow,â Tobin says, âbecause of the campaign and because. . .this thing weâve got together is important. Sheâs important.â
Emma looks up, a little surprised.
âBut now youâre getting married?â Jake prompts, a faint smile on her lips.
â. . .I was so overwhelmed after she did so well in that primary debate that I proposed on the spot,â Tobin says, shrugging. âIâm not an impulsive person but I. . .have a type and itâs. . .absurdly competent women. Our living situations just fell by the wayside because we basically live at the office anyway.â
âOkay,â Jake says, clapping her hands. âOnly Tobin gets to talk.â
âThat was. . .really good,â Emma says, squinting at him when he looks up at her.
âI mean, you did so well at that debate that I absolutely would have proposed if we were. . .whatever weâre pretending to be,â he says.
âA happy, functioning couple,â Jake says, pointing at both of them before repeating, âA happy, functioning couple. Speaking of, I need to get a candid picture of you two where you look like youâre in love to capitalize on this. Can you just. . .snuggle a little? Iâll get my camera.â
âHow do we look like weâre in love?â Tobin asks.
âLook at me like I just beat the hell out of someone in a debate,â Emma says, moving so sheâs pressed up against his side and feeling a dumb little spark when he wraps an arm around her. She really needs to be touched more often outside of shaking peopleâs hands. âSince apparently thatâs your kink.â
âI think it comes naturally in political science majors,â he says, huffing out a laugh. âYou had. . .more than a few guys who thought watching you debate was, uhm. . .â
âWhat?â she asks, delighted.
â. . .pornographic,â he says, eventually.
âWait, were they the kind of guys who watch porn where women step on men in high heels?â she asks, laughing.
âProbably,â he says, after a second. âNot me, I only watch. . .the regular kinds of porn. But you definitely had an impact on some burgeoning sexualities.â
âOh my god,â Emma says, turning to hide a laugh in his shoulder. âI know I didnât have trouble finding dates but I thought it was mostly my tits.â
âWell, they donât hurt,â he says, a little pink when she looks up at him with a surprised smile.
Sheâs about to ask him what the regular kinds of porn are when Jake says, âWell, I think I got it,â and they both look up to see her standing in the corner, looking down at her camera.
âWe didnât pose,â Tobin says.
âYou look adorable,â she says, vaguely gesturing between them. âWhat were you even talking about?â
âPorn,â Emma says.
âWell. . .â Tobin starts.
âIâm going to say some bullshit about. . .I donât know, reminiscing on your lives together, good times, bad times, etcetera,â Jake says, already walking away, calling back when sheâs in the next room. âI want to know what youâre saying about porn, though!â
They stay like they are for a few moments before Emma moves away just a little, kind of disappointed when Tobin immediately pulls his arm away and gives her more room.
âSo, did you want me to step on you in college?â she asks.
She probably shouldnât but she has to be so restrained all of the time that sometimes itâs just nice to take it out on him, especially when she has all this new information.
âI have no interest in being stepped on,â he says, lightly.
âVery good non-answer,â she says. âIf I tell you something embarrassing, will you tell me the truth?â
He looks at her for a moment, probably because he thinks that sheâs going to trick him or something, before he nods and says, âSure.â
âWhen you called me to meet you to pitch me running for assemblywoman,â she says, slowly, âI thought. . .that you wanted. . .to hook up.â
âWhat?â he asks, laughing.
âSome dude I hadnât talked to in years was, like, sliding into my DMs!â she says. âItâs not a huge leap to make. Being recruited Avengers style for the state government was significantly more surprising than you wanting to fuck me.â
âI wasnât even sure that you would remember me,â he says. ��I didnât think I made a huge impact on your life.â
âI remember you were a very nice young man,â she says, âand that I thought you might be a robot and also. . .a little scared of me.â
âYou definitely called me a robot once or twice,â he says, smiling at the ceiling before he turns it on her, âand I was kind of scared in general but. . .definitely of you.â
âBecause of how much you wanted me to step on you,â she says, nodding seriously and laughing when he rolls his eyes and moves away, gently taking his arm. âOh, come on, you can tell me.â
âI appreciated your debate performances more than Iâm comfortable admitting right now,â he says, eventually. âWhat about you, though? Were you going to say yes?â
âTo what?â she asks.
âWhen you thought I was trying to hook up,â he prompts, raising his eyebrows at her. âWere you going to. . .say yes?â
âYou curveballed before I had a chance to decide,â she says, letting go of him and stretching her feet out in front of her, propping them up on the coffee table, âbut. . .probably.â
âHuh,â he says, noncommittally.
âHuh,â she says, like a challenge that he doesnât take up because their phones both vibrate in their pockets and he pulls his out first, opening it to show a text from Jake. She leans in to look when he opens it and a photo of them from just a few minutes ago pops up on the screen.
â. . .huh,â he says, again, turning it so she can see it better.
He has her pulled close and theyâre grinning at each other and it just looks cozy, nothing like sheâs ever really had before. And it looks natural because. . .it was natural.
âHuh,â she says, softly.
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if you ever wanna be in love
Chapter II: Coincidences
a/n: the response to what i believe will be the slowest chapter in the whole series was honestly kind of overwhelming? like you guys were into it and itâs only going up from here folks!!
taglist is open if youâd like to be added. sorry if you asked and i missed it or forgot. please just ask again if you arenât on there and would like to be. :â)
pairing: marcus pike x f!reader
word count: 2.3k
warnings: none, and i donât expect there to really be any serious ones in upcoming chapters either. this is just fun.
You were really starting to regret your life choices.Â
Even the beginnings of autumn in Austin were hot as hell. It was only maybe 90 degrees but there was no breeze and the sun was shining ruthlessly on the asphalt, making it feel about 10 degrees hotter. And all of that was then made complete with just a dash of humidity. Basically: you were dying. You probably shouldâve considered that before deciding to walk to Rickâs Diner from Wendyâs apartment, but when the pancakes call, you two must answer. And why risk losing your parking spot in the meager guest parking area when you could just walk? Itâs only a couple of streets away.
Famous last words. The Austin sun, though setting, still felt like it was frying you to your bones and the air conditioning of the little diner only brought minor relief as you finally reached the stool-lined counter to ask for your to-go order. They didnât have it quite ready yet due to the dinner rush, but it was unadulterated bliss to hear that you didnât have to brave the heat again quite yet. A vaguely familiar voice reached your ears as you moved away from the counter.
âFancy meeting you here, Jewels.âÂ
Pike? From the break room yesterday? You spun around to find none other than the very same. Though his work suit was replaced with a more casual look of a casual well-fit grey shirt and jeans, he was still managing to look more put together than you felt in athletic shirts and a t-shirt. Girls night and the weather called for it, but if you knew you were going to be seeing a coworker...
âArt Squad,â you laughed, leaning against the wall next to him. âWhat brings you here?â
âBest pancakes in the city. What about you? Coffee?âÂ
âHa-ha. No, girlâs night with Wendy. Gonna get her mind off of everything with what are absolutely the best pancakes in the city,â you agreed.
âA woman of taste.â His order came up and he took it, taking a moment to talk with the server across the counter. You heard him address him by name.
He must come here a lot.
You couldnât blame him. It was clean, the service was amazing, the food was great, and it was fun-- with nostalgic decor that didnât sway towards cheesiness.
Marcus left the counter with his takeout bag, but he didnât leave with it, as expected. Instead he came back to stand beside you.Â
âMaybe I should get some for Adrian too. These pancakes are magical,â he commented, continuing your previous conversation.
âExactly.â
âI just wish I could do more for him. Coffee and pancakes arenât exactly a permanent fix.â
âAgreed. Iâm on the lookout for a rebound for Wendy. Maybe you should consider it too. Not a permanent fix but-- better.â
It hit you all at once.Â
Two single people recently in need of a rebound that work in the same building?
That couldnât be coincidence.Â
But, no, that was a crazy idea. There was nothing that actually connected them. Did they have anything in common other than getting their hearts ripped out and working for the FBI? Doubtful. Was that enough for a stable relationship? God, no. Was that enough to bring them together long enough for a hook-up and getting them over their exes?Â
Maybe.
Your name being called interrupted your thoughts and, pancakes in hand, you and Marcus walked back out into the Austin heat. You had no idea how he was managing in jeans, though you guessed it helped that he was probably smart enough to drive with the protection of A/C.Â
âWell, see you around,â you nodded to him, ignoring the nagging in the back of your head to tell him about your scheme. It was silly. You turned left to walk towards Wendyâs place.Â
âWhere are you going?â he calls after you; you turn. âDid you not--?â he gestures to the parking lot on his right.
âWalked here.â
âDo you like causing yourself pain?â
âSometimes.â He gave you a look. âIâm kidding. Itâs not that bad.â
âYeah, right. Let me drive you.â You considered a moment. There wasnât any harm in accepting the ride, you guessed, though you didnât actually know him. He could actually be a murderer whoâs just trying to get you to a secondary location. Youâd seen John Mulaney. You knew what that meant.
But maybe it was worth a try for the pancakes.Â
Just for the pancakes-- for their safety.
âSure, why not.â
This couldnât be coincidence either. Time to scheme.
âSo, about Adrian,â you began. The look he gave you was quizzical. âHow old is he?â
â33?â
âWould he be interested in a 32 year old beautiful, badass goddess of an FBI Supervisory Special Agent?â He raises an eyebrow as you get in his car.
âIs that Wendy?âÂ
âYes. Turn left up here.â He did.Â
âI know what youâre thinking. No, weâre not going to--â
âBut think about it!â
âI am. Meddling? That always works.â His tone was drowning in sarcasm.
âSure it does. Adrianâs work is suffering, right? Driving you crazy? Wendyâs driving me crazy. They belong together.â
âI donât think thatâs a great quality to base a relationship off of.âÂ
âOh, this is her building here.â He pulled over and you continued, unbuckling your seatbelt âWeâll cross that bridge when we get there. Surely we can get them together long enough to at least get them off our backs.â
âAbsolutely not. Iâm not getting involved in Adrianâs love life.â
âAlright, fine. If you never see me again. Wendy finally killed me.â He rolled his eyes. âThanks for the ride, Art Squad.â
âSee you around, Jewels.â
âDonât be so sure!â you called back as you walked up to the front of Wendyâs apartment.Â
Arriving back to Wendyâs living room had her asking you how you got back so soon as she gratefully took out her takeout container of pancakes.Â
âHitched a ride,â you shrugged in reply, sitting cross-legged on the other end of her couch.Â
âOh? With who?â There were approximately eight extra âOâsâ attached at the end of the question.
âA guy from work.â
âFrom work, hmm?â She wiggled her eyebrows.Â
âNot like that.â
âHumor me. Someone from our team?â
âOh, no. Definitely not. Art Squad.â Wendy widened her eyes, tilting her head at you. âItâs nothing Wendy, honestly.â
âHow do you know him?â But the question didnât come out casually. This was an interrogation. You sighed.
âI donât, really,â you diverted the conversation digging into your take-out container. âAnd why are you interrogating me, hmm? I thought we were supposed to be laughing at reality shows and stuffing our faces in pancakes here and forgetting all about this kind of shit.â
âNo no no. When my long-time single work friend mentions a secret guy, I ask questions.â
âHey, I just went on a date two weeks ago! Donât give me any of that always single crap. I get around.â
âYeah, you went on one date. And then you came back an hour later saying he was boring and you never contacted him again. And when was the last time before that?â
âFine, fine. I get it. But this isnât some âsecret guy,ââ you put down your fork just to give the phrase some emphatic air quotes. âI just ran into him yesterday at the office and then today at Rickâs. Thatâs it.âÂ
âFor now,â she whispered devilishly. You pointed your fork at her, feigning a threat.
âI do not need a man, Wendy Harrod. I have work and I have you.â
âI know you donât. I just wanna see you happy.â You crossed your arms.
âI am happy. Hey, this night is supposed to be about you and your man troubles. Turn on 90 Day Fiance. Stop talking about me.â
You were telling the truth. Most of it. You felt alright by yourself. You did have work, though it was a dead-end until you managed to move out of the Austin field office. It had been you and Wendy up for a promotion a couple years ago and she received it. You knew the likelihood of her leaving before retirement was minuscule, which left you stuck in your current position until your own retirement. Unless you left. Not an option. You couldnât leave Wendy scrambling for someone to replace you. It wasnât an ideal situation, but you had it. It was yours. And you⌠Liked it well enough.Â
It was fine. What more could you want?
***
Monday mornings were hard on anyone: the start of another week, the stack of work that Friday-you left for Monday-you staring you in the face. For Marcus it brought the wondering if this could be the week that Adrian was back to himself.Â
It took all of ten minutes in the office to see that wouldnât be the case.
Adrianâs pile of work had hardly decreased in height from the last time Marcus saw it on Friday morning. He watched for a moment to see how it was going. Adrianâs pen moved slowly across the page as he followed the words printed on it, occasionally making a mark or circling a section. He was working, but not to his best. It was written on his face and in his body language: hunched over at his desk, his chin resting resting heavily in the hand that wasnât making lethargic movements over the paper. It just wasnât the spunky Adrian that loved his job and his co-workers. He was always the hardest worker, and on the rare occasions that Adrian wasnât working it was because he was too caught up in being a social butterfly. This side of him was frighteningly unprecedented.
âHowâre you doing Adrian?â Marcus finally spoke.
Adrian made a noncommittal noise in response, his gaze fixated entirely somewhere above the page, but not quite on him.
âThat good, huh?â
Another grunt.
Marcus pulled a rolling chair up to the other side of Adrianâs desk, facing him, studying him. He thought of your proposition from days before. It was kind of a crazy idea. But it might just be crazy enough to work. It wouldnât be a permanent fix but... Better. Just as youâd said. He was getting about that desperate. Three weeks without Adrian was bad enough for team morale. Another week of this? Maybe more? The very walls of the sixth floor would be turning dull and grey. He still didnât love the idea, but he hadnât exactly come up with anything better. Could he bring it up to Adrian? Was it better if they didnât know they were being set up? He started small.
âAdrian, have you considered maybe, I donât know, trying to date again soon? Just to get your mind off of⌠That.â
Adrian shrugged, âMaybe. Iâd have to find someone I was interested in. But I just don't think I'll find that anytime soon. Iâll just keep comparing them to Sam.âÂ
Marcus hummed in thought, watching the defeat on Adrianâs face. âWell, Iâll keep my eye out,â he promised loosely as he rolled the rolling chair back away from the desk.
He had to find you.Â
He quickly announced he was taking a long lunch and headed straight to the elevator, thankful no one followed him to see him go up to the seventh floor instead of down to the first. He poked around offices and desks, ignoring the questioning glances, looking for you or any sign of where your workspace might be. He found you in the seventh floor breakroom, starting into what looked like an extremely mediocre lunch.Â
He sat directly across from you and watched as you slowly looked up to find the source of the noise, suddenly feeling that he mightâve overstepped and you might not want to disturbed. That was quickly replaced by the odd surge of pride when you looked relieved to see him. You smiled at him and called him Art Squad.
âWhat brings you to the seventh floor? We still donât have any coffee,â you huffed.
âIâm in.âÂ
âIâm sorry?â
âIâm in. Letâs set them up.â Your expression was nothing short of cocky as you leaned back in your chair.Â
âOh? Coming crawling back so soon? Adrian getting the best of you?â
âYeah, yeah. Rub it in. So what do we do?â
âWell,â you laid down your fork, âThe way I see it. We shouldnât tell them. Theyâre having a tough time and feeling like theyâre only getting a date from their friendsâ pity party would make it worse. They need this to feel natural, like it was their idea and theyâre recovering. Itâll give them confidence.â
âSo we... What?â
âI donât know! I didnât think Iâd get this far.â He rolled his eyes.
âYou donât even have a plan and you were trying to convince me to help you?â
âJust let me think about it, alright?â
âAlright. Letâs drive and think. Up for a long lunch break?â
âI guess? But I have,â you looked to your sad little lunch in front of you. When you met his eyes again, he simply raised an eyebrow.Â
Youâre really gonna eat that?
âRickâs?â
âRickâs.â
forever taglist:Â @acomplicatedprofessionâ @hdlynnâ @makaela27 @space-floozy @catfishingmoralesâ @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasaâ @princessbatearsâ @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @findhimfives
series taglist:Â @whiskeyslassoâ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @dindjarindiariesâ @absurdthirstâ @roxypeanutâ @fioccodineveautunnaleâ
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Come to the Tree (Thereâs Joy Here)
Ooohhhh tricky one. Hmmmm.
I feel like itâs a Fairy AU of SOMETHING but Iâm not sure what fandom to pick.....
....
BNHA.
An AU where all of the bullying gets to Izuku when heâs still a smol child and he runs away from home. He runs and runs and then trips and falls and it hurts and his hands are bleeding and its raining, so he hides in an old, overgrown and forgotten shrine with a big tree growing out of the roof. (Later he will realize that should have been a warning, because what place in his little Japanese suburb would naturally be that overgrown, and why had he never seen it before the moment he had lost all hope or will to live?) He stumbles inside, crying and wishing and bleeding, and when he huddles against the tree, wishing desperately to be somewhere else, someone else, something else, his bloody palm smears across the bark by accident.
And the world around him changes.
The world does not see or hear Izuku for a long, long time.
Years later, Toshinori stumbles through a suburb, looking frantically for a place to hide before he de-transforms because he forgot his time limit and what if there are WITNESSES. He spots a rundown shrine with a tree growing out of it and ducks inside. He staggers against the tree, coughing blood onto the roots and swearing softly. Eventually his breathing evens out and he straightens up, running a hand through his hair as he mentally scolds himself for losing track of his time limit. He turns to leave and walk home now that heâs safely transformed-.
âWhat is your wish?â
Toshinori spits blood in shock as he whirls. The young boy that is just- THERE, standing by the old tree doesnât even blink, he just smiles and rocks on his heels, dressed in an old fashioned yukata with embroidered leaves on it, his hair a curly black-green and his eyes a bright emerald shade that is almost eerie to look at (a see in the dark quirk, perhaps, or an invisibility one considering he snuck up on Toshinori).
âI- Iâm sorry?â
The boy tilts his head, still smiling placidly, âYou didnât make a wish. You canât just leave without making a wish after paying such a high price.â The boy points and Toshinori blinks at the blood he coughed up earlier, drying on the roots.
Well. This suddenly got creepy.
âI ... you use blood to make a wish?â
The boy waggles a hand in a so-so motion, âItâs not required. Most donât. The price for a wish varies. But if you give blood, you have to make a wish. The price is too high not to. So,â he spreads his hands, âwhat is your wish?â
...Oooookay?? Toshinoriâs mind races, both baffled over what he just walked into and worried that the boy had been here when he transformed, âDid you ... see me come in?â
âYes.â
Oh no, âAnd you ... saw me transform?â
âYes.â
Oh. Oh dear. Toshinori comes up with an idea on the fly and smiles weakly, âI wish that you would not tell anyone about what you saw here today.â
The boy taps his lips with a finger, then shrugs and smiles, âThatâs a very vague wish, but you already paid, so alright. Are there any other wishes you need?â
âAh- no. No thank you.â
The boy nods, âAlright then. Have a nice day, Yagi Toshinori-san.â A blink and the world wavers and Toshinori is suddenly standing on the street, in front of an empty, paved lot. There is no overgrown shrine, no large tree, no smiling boy.
Thoroughly freaked out, Toshinori runs home to make some phone calls.
Naomasa checks the database, but there are no registered quirks that even begin to cover what he saw. Toshinori can only hope the boy keeps his word about Toshinoriâs âwishâ.
...
Hitoshi finds it next, frustrated and disillusioned with General Studies at U.A. but still stubborn. He sees the shrine out of the corner of his eye and thinks âwhy not, it wonât make his luck any suckierâ and goes inside. He pats the tree with a hand, looks around. There is no place to leave yen anymore, the treeâs probably eaten it, and Hitoshi has no yen on him anyway. After a momentâs thought, he unhooks the little cat figurine clipped dangling from the strap of his book back and hooks it on a low branch, then claps his hands and mutters dryly, âI wish I had a different quirk.â
âCareful with a wish like that,â says the boy who Hitoshi SWORE was not there seconds ago, leaning against the tree and looking straight out of a history drama with his yukata and geta shoes, âIâm afraid thatâs not a high enough price.â He frowns, âI donât think you can afford a wish like that honestly. Do you want to try a different wish?â
Hitoshi gapes, âI- you- who are you?â
The boy just shrugs noncommittally, âI run this shrine. I grant wishes to make people happy, if they can pay.â He admires the little cat figurine with a faraway look that makes Hitoshiâs skin crawl, âItâs very pretty, but Iâm afraid thatâs too small a price for a wish like that. Do you have a different wish I could grant instead?â
Hitoshi keeps staring, then shakes his head to clear it, âYou ... are you serious?â
The boy nods, his freckles catch on the sunlight filtering through the broken roof. Hitoshi has been in the foster system a long time, heâs seen some pretty wild quirks, enough of them he finally decides âwhy not, whatâs the worst that can happenâ and says, âHow about ... I wish for the chance to get into the Hero Course.â
The boy spaces out again, humming softly, âStill a bit high ... but thatâs a very nice wish.â He laughs and Hitoshi could swear the rattling leaves in the breeze laugh with him, âAlright! Iâll grant that wish. One chance to get into the Hero Course. But you know, itâs only a chance, if you want to grab it, you should stop being scared of yourself and train.â
Hitoshi bristles, âYou don't have a quirk like mine.â
âNo,â the boy agrees with a smile that borders on too-wide, âI donât. But I wasnât talking about that. You have legs and arms donât you? Hands and feet and a clever mind? Use those. Theyâll get you a lot farther than any quirk.â With that, the boy claps his hands-
And Hitoshi is blinking on the sidewalk, staring at an empty park rather than a rundown shrine.
He tells no one. But he does sign up to every extra martial arts and phys ed course U.A. offers, and even though itâs stupid to believe the strange kid ... one chance.
He wonât let it slip away when it comes.
...
And so it goes. One by one, more and more students of U.A., or teachers, or just people who need a hand catch a glimpse of the shrine out of the corner of their eye and if they wander in, they are invited to pay a price for a wish. Sometimes the price is too high for them to pay and they are turned away, sometimes the wish itself is rotten and vile and a moment later the person finds themselves out on the street with no memory of the shrine at all.
Hitoshi is a repeat visitor, at first for more wishes paid with toys and trinkets and a few manga, then later to thank the boy for the wishes coming true, then later still because the boy seems lonely and Hitoshi is grateful enough to want to make it up to him. He asks one day for the boyâs name, surprised to realize that theyâve been friends for months but heâs never heard it, and now that he thinks about it, the boy never leaves the shrine. Heâs never seen him, and that green hair and eyes are fairly distinctive even in a world filled with quirks. The boy just smiles sadly, and says he doesnât have one.
Hitoshi ... gapes. It takes a hefty wish to get the story, but in the end the boy tells it. Of being quirkless, of being afraid and lost and depressed and angry. Of running away in the rain, and stumbling inside the shrine with bloody hands. Of wishing to be SOMETHING else. The boy skips over what came next, but says that tree had been waiting for a wish granter for a long time, the old one had faded away as quirks rose and people stopped believing in wishes. But Izuku is from the age of quirks, he knows how to operate better, so he had a chance. He could be something else than a useless quirkless failure, he could be a Wish Granter, one who brought joys and gave hope to those who came to his tree and paid a small price.
But becoming a Wish Granter is a heavy, heavy wish and it required a heavy price. Even heavier than blood smeared on the trunk.
So the boy had paid for the wish with his name.
Hitoshi doesnât understand how that is a high price until the boy explains. A name is a word. A word is useless without meaning. A word BECOMES a name when it is attached to someone, when people call someone that. A name gains power with memory.
And without that name ... memory fades away.
âYou're telling me,â Hitoshi sputtered, âThat you ... donât remember ANYTHING?â
âNothing before the day I ran away. I can remember that much at least. But I canât remember what people called me, or where I lived, or what I was called.â The boy shrugged, âItâs okay. I like granting wishes. I like giving people hope when there is none, and making them happy. I donât need a quirk to do that, and people donât need a quirk to get my help. No one is too big or small for my wishes, so long as they pay, and they can pay anything as long as itâs worth what their wish is worth.â
And Hitoshi- Hitoshi canât breathe. He canât even-. He knows bullying. He knows how bad it gets, heâs lived it. But to be bullied so badly, over something he couldnât help, that this boy (his FRIEND) would choose to forget everything just for a chance to matter and help people- that he would prefer losing it all to gain this one place and one thing-.
Anger burns.
Hitoshi comes back to U.A. the next day with changed goals. Heâs going to be a hero, yes, but heâs going to run an agency that accepts and trains anyone with the will and dream to be a hero. Even quirkless. Heâs going to help people like him, like the wish granting boy who gave up his name. Heâs going to tear society up by the roots if thatâs what it takes to bleed out the poison that lets this kind of thing go without notice.
And heâs going to start with the boy.
He goes back the next day with a book of names under one arm and a book bag full of chocolates and candies and cat figurines. He dumps the whole back on the roots of the tree, and when the boy appears, Hitoshi shoves the name book at him and says roughly, âI wish for you to pick yourself a name that you want from this book. Any name. I wish for my friend to have name he deserves.â
And the boy goes very, very still. He looks down at the book, then up at Hitoshi.
Then bursts into tears, because no one has ever wished on his behalf before. Wished for good health of a family member, or a happy marriage for a friend, or a hundred other things for other people yes, but never, ever him.
They sit down and pour over the book, and eventually the boy settles on the name Izuku, because for some reason it makes him think of warm things and laughter.
(Gonna stop there because ow my hands, but like- if I actually wrote this, then eventually thereâd be a Reveal where the rest of Class 1-A finds out about Izuku when Hitoshi wishes for his friend to leave the shrine and spend the day having fun with him, since Izuku legit never leaves his reality-bending, location hopping shrine, and of COURSE Class 1-A finds them and of COURSE Katsuki sees Izuku, hears the name Hitoshi is calling him, and has a near heart attack. And of COURSE Katsuki, despite not being terrible in this universe (coming to the stark realization that he very well might have suicide baited a friend as a child was a reality check and a half), reacts to this shock the way he reacts to any other kind of stress: by getting angry and loud and shouty and maybe a bit punchy. And Izuku starts shaking, because he gave up his name, but without knowing it heâs been given it BACK by Hitoshi, or at least a piece of it, and Katsukiâs temper is making him almost have flashbacks, and Aizawa steps in in alarm when Hitoshi decks Katsuki and Izuku just kinda- flops over nervelessly like heâs having a seizure.
Katsuki is a Horrified Guiltâ˘.
Aizawa rushes the kid to the hospital, but the moment thereâs no one else in the room, he teleports back to the shrine and so oops no one in the room, cue freak out.
Hitoshi ends up dragging Class 1-A and his teachers to the shrine to check on Izuku and make Katsuki apologize, which he does.
And then accidentally gives back Izukuâs memories because it turns out crying all over the roots of the tree in genuine, years-long regret is a high enough price to fulfill the wish for Izuku to âCome Backâ.
Of course thereâs also the whole âmagic is actually a thing and Izuku genuinely canât leave the shrine unless someone wishes it for the dayâ because thatâs what being a Wish Granter means and Izuku ends up getting lots and lots of visitors who don't want wishes but just want to be his friend and make him happy.
Anyway yea, no idea where I was going with this but it was fun at least?)
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Can you imagine bram taking Nate on a supply run and buying rope and barbed wire to tie up the puppy from a hardware store. The sixteen y/o behind the counter checking them out asks what project theyâre working on
CW: Creepy/intimate whumper, vaguely referenced torture, vaguely referenced noncon
She never looks up.
Nate tries to catch her eye - heâs not sure why, he canât say anything with Bramâs hand hot against his lower back right through his T-shirt, the whine of some errant mosquito too close to his ear. But he wants to say he tried, did something, even when thereâs nothing he can really do.
She scans each of Bramâs items - heavy rope first, wound in a tight circle, and Nateâs throat wants to close at the knowledge of how Danny will be strung up by it until the rope burns and chafes and makes him bleed. Then the thinner, softer cord, the one that goes in the bedroom, lives in endless knots along the headboard, lengths for Dannyâs wrists, for his thighs, for his ankles, around his neck. The hammer and nails, and Nate doesnât know what those are for but he prays theyâre for an actual home project, and that he wonât have to watch them driven into Dannyâs skin.
That he wonât be the one to do it, with Bramâs eyes locked on his whispering encouragement and love as Dannyâs initial attempts to muffle himself turn eventually to cries and then to screams.
She scans the items one by one, and she never looks up.
Duct tape, in three different colors. They had a ânovelty rollâ printed with dog bones on it and Bram had picked it up with absolute delight. Nate shudders, watching it swipe across the counter now, the little âbeepâ as the price is added to the total.
In the diner, they greet Bram happily, as a welcome friend. In the post office, the person behind the counter had recognized Nate from the last time he was dragged along on one of these, and Nateâs attempt to return her greeting had been so halting, so heavy with broken consonants and drawn-out vowels, that heâd finally given up and let Bram speak for him.
Oh, thatâs all right, The postal worker said with real compassion and empathy. He says youâve got a bad stutter and youâre real shy about it. Thatâs all right.
Iâm not shy, Nate thought desperately, the words trapped by a mouth that wouldnât work, behind the feeling of Bramâs hand brushing the hair at the back of his neck, the knowledge that if he fucked this up, Danny would be dead before the cops could find him. Iâm fucking scared, please, just notice how scared I am. Have someone follow Bramâs truck when we leave. Do something, notice me.
He smiled on cue as they took the packages from Bramâs most recent orders, the envelopes that came in, and walked back out to the truck in the parking lot. He looked over his shoulder once, and the postal worker gave him a cheery wave.
Wave back, Bram had murmured. Wave back to her, baby.
Nate did as he was told.
Just like he stands silently, now, and prays that the cashier will see the fear in his eyes, the worry, the shadows underneath. That sheâll pick up on the way he flinches when Bram moves too close.Â
She doesnât.
She never even looks at his face.
Barbed wire is scanned, and Nateâs skin prickles as he looks at the twists of sharp metal that will soon dig tightly into Dannyâs skin. A new leash, the old one was soaked during the last big rain and smells musty now. A black dog bone made of some incredibly tough plastic, labeled KONG on the side.Â
Nateâs mouth thins into an uneasy line.
âFor my dog,â Bram says, brightly. âHis name is Red.â
The cashier makes a noncommittal sound and doesnât ask him to elaborate. She scans the packets of seed Danny had asked for, new vegetables to try out in the garden this fall. Some kind of heirloom pumpkin heâs excited about, will store well down in the cellar. Leafy green plants Danny swears will grow right up until it snows.
Finally, a Snickers for Bram and Milky Way for Nate.Â
She gives them the total reading off the screen in front of her, then stares blankly as Bram counts out his cash, rolling out money through his fingers. Nateâs eye are caught by it - he never ceases to forget about this being Canada, since they live in the wilderness with nothing and no one, until he sees Canadian money, again.
They take their change and leave, and Nateâs heart falls, piece by piece, left behind them with the last shot heâd had of getting someone to look at him, to see it written along his face, to see that there is a man trapped in the dark who needs help.
Theyâre loading the bags into the back of the truck and resettling the cover over the truck bed when a man steps up, and Nate turns to look. The man meets his eyes, and for a second, Nate has... hope. Small, and barely a thread, but there.
âIs this your, ah, partner?â The man asks, and Bramâs arm slips around his waist.
Please, please, please see that Iâm not his partner, please see that I need help.
âThis is him,â Bram says happily. âTold you Iâd bring him next time, Jenkins.â
Yet another one of Bramâs supply run friends, the people in this town who love him. Heâs friendly and charming, buys rounds of coffee for the old-timers at the counter who talk about the way things used to be and the weather, endlessly, in that order. Everyone loves Bram, here.
He killed a man to steal his home, Nate thinks, staring at the man smiles at him, friendly and welcoming. He keeps us captive. Danny isnât allowed to be human anymore. Please.Â
âThereâs still time to change your ways,â Jenkins says, full of weight and meaning. For a second, the world tilts around Nate. Does this man know? Does he know what Bram is doing, in the woods, slowly carving Dannyâs mind and body apart? Does he know?
âI told you last time,â Bram says patiently. âIâm not interested in your church, Jenkins. Iâm not interested in your counseling.â
Hysterical laughter bubbles up in Nateâs throat. The man wants to help because he thinks Bram is gay.
âSeek and ye shall find, Mr. Denner,â Jenkins says, softly. âSeek and ye shall find. When youâre ready to seek, you give me a call. You too,â He says to Nate, with a firm handshake. Nate allows his hand to be grasped, staring at him, trying to hold back his laughter. âThereâs always room for salvation, gentlemen.â Then he nods to Bram, and Bramâs hand gently pushes Nate back towards the truck.
Thatâs where youâre wrong, he thinks, as he buckles himself in, one more look through the glass doors of the hardware store. The cashier is scanning someone elseâs order, and she stares at nothing the same way she did with Nate. Iâm already in hell.
How many people does that girl interact with each day?
How many need help?
What would it take for her to notice?
Bramâs hand is on Nateâs thigh by the time he drives them back down the street and towards the edge of town.Â
âThat went well,â Bram says cheerfully. âDonât you think?â
âY-Yeah,â Nate finally answers. âIt w-w-went, ah, w-... it went all right.â
Nate stares at the window at the trees, and wonders how far Bram will drive before heâs blindfolded again, so that even if they noticed, it wouldnât do any good.
Even if they noticed, he couldnât tell them where to go.
Danny would only die, alone, in the dark.
Nate sits in the truck and feels his leg warm under Bramâs hand, and all he lets himself think about is the light in Dannyâs eyes when they come back home to let him out of the cellar.
Maybe Bram will let him sleep in the bed, and Nate can hold him while he remembers the light.
#whump#Daniel Michaelson's story#captivity#creepy whumper#intimate whumper#tw: vaguely referenced noncon#tw: vaguely referenced torture#caretaker#whumper
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Fixes to the Timeline Ch9
The apocalypse is over, the world has been saved, and now Klaus and Dave are left to try to figure out how to live a normal life in 2019. Unfortunately, there is very little thatâs normal about their situation and theyâre going to have a lot of trauma to work through first.
-
Eventually they had to admit to themselves that no more sleep was going to happen. It was still early morning and they were both exhausted, moving around sluggishly. Klaus couldnât help the pang of guilt he felt, knowing it was his fault they were awake at all. Dave had stayed up with him, trying to provide a distraction, but unfortunately not even he could drown out the screaming once the ghosts really got going. The company helped at least.Â
Instead of continuing to hide away in their fort, Klaus suggested they move downstairs so they could at least watch tv. That way, maybe Dave wouldnât feel like he had to distract him. Not that Klaus managed to pay much attention. He mostly just buried his face against Dave and tried not to hear anything at all, focusing instead on Daveâs hand brush through his hair.
He was shutting down again, he could feel it happening. It was a new habit heâd developed, just letting the haze consume him for hours on end. He just didnât have many other options. The ghosts were just so overwhelmingly loud. But that was how months had gone by with him barely noticing, doing absolutely nothing with his life while his siblings all moved on and actually made something of themselves.
Going out and being more active may have been good for him, he always enjoyed himself when one of the others came around. He couldnât go out alone, though. As much as he hated to admit it, he wasnât sure he could trust himself. And he didnât want to put that kind of pressure on Dave, making him feel like his sobriety relied entirely on how long they could wander out into the city for adventure. Which would likely cause Dave to push himself harder than he should and worsen his healing injuries.Â
So instead he let himself slip back into it, shutting out the world and letting time blur past because eventually it had to get better, right? He just didnât want Dave to realize how unlikely that hope was before he had to accept it himself. Klaus knew something needed to change, he just wasnât sure what.Â
When he felt Dave wiggle out from under him, he felt guilty that he couldnât muster up the energy to say anything or even ask what he was doing. Heâd fully intended to, but then he was gone and it was too late. Thankfully, what felt like only a moment later, Dave was back, gently shaking him back into himself.Â
âHey,â Dave said, brushing the hair back from his forehead. âThink you can try to eat something?â
âDid you cook?â Klaus asked as he sat up. That certainly piqued his interest, but it helped that he was very skilled at slipping back into being a person when he needed to so that no one would worry about him. Too bad that, with Dave here all the time, there wasnât really any fooling him. âAre you trying to spoil me?â
âWell, it was mostly your mom, to be honest,â he said, handing him a plate before settling down next to him.Â
âWhat time is it?â Klaus asked with a sleepy stretch. It felt like he shouldnât be tired.
âThree,â Dave said. âIâm all for lazy days, but I wanted to make sure you ate something. I am getting kind of tired, though. Want to go back upstairs after this?â
Klaus made a noncommittal noise, the guilt back in full force. No doubt he was only saying that so Klaus didnât have to. He seriously doubted he could be tired. As soon as they arrived back in the bedroom, Klaus dropped face first into the blanket fort with a heavy sigh. Dave crawled in beside him, tucking them both in with the remaining blankets and pillows. Klaus was vaguely aware of Dave talking and he tried to pay attention, he really did, but all he could think about as he waited for sleep to claim him was how he should be the one trying to comfort Dave instead.Â
-
Klaus wasnât sure when he actually woke up or how long he lay there, just trying to block out all of the screaming. Eventually, he became aware that something was missing; there was no warm body pressed up against his like there had been when heâd fallen asleep.Â
He reached a hand out, feeling around blindly, but when he came up with nothing, he had a moment of panic, worrying that maybe all of this really had been a dream, but when he dragged his head up and looked around, there was a second pillow with the indent of another body where Dave had been lying in the little nest theyâd made and he breathed a sigh of relief.Â
He placed his hand on Daveâs pillow and closed his eyes, trying to summon up every detail he could as the ghosts swarmed, realizing he was awake again. He wasnât sure how long Dave had been gone or when heâd be coming back and he had half a mind to go looking, when he barely managed to catch the sound of a creaking chair behind the voices of the dead and he looked around for the source.Â
Dave was sitting by the window in the darkened room, an intense look of concentration on his face. Klaus didnât like the way his brows pinched together at all. The usual worries returned and Klaus couldnât help but wonder if he was thinking about him, about how useless heâd been all day and what it might mean for the future, for their relationship. But then he looked up as if sensing his gaze and the dazzling smile that broke across Daveâs face upon seeing him helped ease the worry somewhat.Â
He reached a hand out towards Klaus, inviting him over, and there was no way he could refuse that. He was crawling out of the blanket fort before he even had time to consider all of his fears and insecurities and when he reached Dave, he climbed up to join him, careful not to crush him as he sat with his legs draped across Daveâs. They were close enough that Dave only had to lean over to place a kiss to his cheek.Â
âHey,â he said, hand running up and down Klausâ arm, making him never want to move from here again, even though both of their legs were likely to fall asleep soon in this position.
âHey,â Klaus said with a lazy smile, hoping to keep things light as he sought his hand and squeezed it. âDonât tell me the ghosts are keeping you up too.â
âYeah,â Dave said with a little laugh, but his somber expression returned much too quickly. âSomehow I feel like Iâm sleeping too much and not enough at the same time. Iâm tired but I donât want to sleep.â
âSorry I kept you in bed most of the day,â Klaus said.
âNo, no,â Dave hurried to reassure. âItâs not that at all, that was great. I guess Iâm just kinda afraid to sleep. Bad dreams. Or I wake up disoriented and I donât know where I am and I think Iâm, you know, back there.â
âAh,â Klaus said, glancing away, feeling somehow responsible. As if he should be able to stop the flashbacks. If only. âYou can wake me up, you know.â
âI will,â Dave said with a fond smile. âIf it gets too bad. We both need to rest while we can, though. It doesnât seem like either of us are doing a particularly good job at it.Â
âNo, no, thatâs not gonna work,â Klaus said, raising a finger to point at him sternly. ââNo sulking alone,â that was your rule, remember? You wake me up.â
âOkay,â Dave said with a chuckle. âOkay, you win. Next time I canât sleep, Iâll let you know.â
âThatâs more like it,â Klaus said, grabbing the front of Daveâs shirt and pulling him into a kiss.
He knew this wasnât something he could fix, but he wished he could. All he could do was kiss him softly, hold him close and remind him he wasnât alone. Hopefully that would be enough, since apparently Klaus was useless at pretty much everything else.Â
He realized his hand was resting on Daveâs chest, thankfully far enough away from his injury that he hadnât hurt him. Still, he pulled away from their kiss, staring at where he knew there was a healing wound under his nightshirt. He rubbed across his chest, wishing he could ease away all the pain.
âWhat is it?â Dave asked, leaning his forehead against Klausâ.
âDid it hurt?â Klaus asked, steeling himself.Â
There was a long pause, both of them knowing he was asking about his near death and afraid of what that conversation might bring.
âYou donât really want me to answer that, so you?â Dave asked, but there was a little too much artificial lightness to his tone for Klausâ liking.
âMaybe? I donât know. I guess I just want to know how youâre doing, is all. How youâre handling all this.â
âSo you want to talk about what itâs like getting shot in the chest?â Dave tried to joke unsuccessfully. âI canât see how that would do anything except upset us both. Just, Iâm doing fine, okay? Really.â
âYeah, okay,â Klaus said, throwing his head back against the arm of the chair and scrubbing a hand down his face. âYou know I donât know how to talk about-- well, anything, really. I just want you to know that you can. If you want.â
He wasnât sure if talking about dying would even help, he had very little experience with actually opening up so it was a bit hypocritical of him. But still. He didnât want Dave to be like him, to repress everything and pretend he was fine. He wanted him to know he could talk about everything if he needed to. But if Dave didnât want to, that had to be fine too.Â
âWow,â Dave said. âWild. Usually Iâm the one trying to get you to talk about your feelings.â
âRight? How did things get so messed up?â Klaus said, smiling over at him.
âGetting better, though, right?â Dave said, smiling back so fondly.
âYeah, it helps that you didnât actually die.â
âOh, right,â Dave said in horrified realization. âShit, Klaus. I keep forgetting that you had to mourn me.â
âItâs whatever,â Klaus said, waving a hand like it was nothing, like it hadnât left him broken and sobbing on the cold pavement. Like the grief didnât return in full force no matter how many months passed. âYouâre the one who nearly died a slow and painful death.â
âIâm sorry you were there,â Dave said suddenly.Â
âIâm not,â Klaus said indignantly, sitting up to glare at him. âWhat the hell is that supposed to mean?â
âSorry, that came out wrong. I just--â Dave took a deep breath, looking down at his hand as he fiddled with the fabric of the chair, avoiding eye contact. âI know what itâs like to feel someone die in your arms. Itâs happenedâ so many times. Brothers in arms, civilians, you know.â
âYeah,â Klaus said, he did know.Â
âAnd I still remember every single one,â Dave continued. âThatâs not something you forget. And I didnât want you to remember me like that. But I was just so scared, I couldnât help but be glad you were there even though I know how cruel and selfish that is. And now you have to live with it and Iâm so sorry.â
âYou canât just do that,â Klaus said. âYou canât make your death about me, come on.â
âSorry,â Dave said and his voice wavered and cracked with emotion. He laughed at himself, wiping quickly at his eyes.
âI, for one, am very glad I was there,â Klaus said, trying to ignore the stinging in his eyes, because it was true. He could still feel the weight in his arms when Dave finally went slack, could see the moment his eyes lost that joyful light. He could almost imagine the agony and the terror he must have felt because Dave had always been so easy to read, but that was exactly why he was so glad he had been there to hold his hand. No matter how much it hurt.Â
 âI love you,â Dave said. âI love you so much.âÂ
âHey,â Klaus said, straddling his waist so he could take his face in his hands. âI love you too. I missed you soâ so much.â
He had to stop himself, biting his lip to stop his own overflow of emotions; grief and love, a bone deep sense of loss fighting with relief so powerful he thought it might crush him if he dwelled on it too long. But Dave was here and he was kissing him, wrapping his arms around him, and Klaus just tried to pour everything he felt into it, how much he cared and how lost he felt when heâd thought he was gone forever, not even out there somewhere, still able to smile and laugh and live.Â
But he wasnât gone.Â
âYouâre here, Iâm here; thatâs all that matters,â Klaus said and he hoped it helped.
âYeah,â Dave said, wiping away a tear, resting his forehead against Klausâ. âNot to too obviously change the subject, but howâs the ghost situation?â
âOh, you know,â Klaus said, glancing around at the hoard that always seemed to be lurking in the corners of his rooms.Â
âThink you can get a bit more sleep?â
âIâll try if you try.â
âDeal.â
When they slipped back into bed together, it felt like coming home, like everything might eventually be okay, like that was even an option for them. He could feel Daveâs chest rising and falling with each breath under his hand and, fuck, Klaus had missed this, missed having Dave in his arms, feeling his lips press a kiss to his temple. He had missed him so much it ached, for so long, but he didnât have to miss him anymore.Â
It couldnât magically fix everything, wipe away the hurt and scare away the ghosts. It still felt too fragile, like Dave could disappear all over again at any moment. And he knew Klaus himself was the biggest threat to their relationship. Really, Dave should have gotten sick of dealing with him a long time ago. But he hadnât, and by some miracle they were here together and all Klaus could do was hold him tightly while he still could.Â
#klaus hargreeves#dave katz#klave#the umbrella academy#umbrella academy#fanfic#fixes to the timeline#my fic
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Love Has a Learning Curve: Part III (x OC)
Summary: Spencer has to face Anita and Samâ and learns a little about Maggieâs past. Maggie and Spencer babysit for Michael and Henry.Â
Pairing: Spencer Reid x OC
Category: fluff, a tiny smidge of hurt/comfort
Warnings/Includes: implied smut, drinking/alcohol, vague mentions of previous emotional/mental abuse (Owen)
Word count: 4.2k
a/n: This picks up right after the end of the tmsidk epilogue! I also worked two requests in here.
Series Masterlist
âââ
Spencer stacked the last of the tiny chairs in the center of the room, stepping back and dusting his palms on his trousers. He looked over to see Maggie playing a sort of container tetris with the bins of supplies in her closet. He smiled a little to himself, his head still in the metaphorical clouds with her confession of love.Â
She maneuvered the bins to her satisfaction and shut the closet doors, pushing against them to squeeze everything in until the latch clicked. She turned to see him watching her and wiped imaginary sweat from her brow. She gave him a wink and a grin, and he was falling all over again.Â
She perched on the corner of her desk with a tired sigh, and he made his way across the room to her. She reached for him as soon as he was within arms length, wrapping her arms around his middle. She snuggled into his chest, and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. âLetâs go to dinner to celebrate.â
She laughed and looked up at him. âCelebrate what?â
He shrugged. âYou. Summer.â He brought his arms around her shoulders. âLove.â
She smiled and scrunched her nose at him. âYou just want me to say it again.â
His lips twitched. âMaybe.â
Her hands came to rest on his hips, her fingers squeezing lightly. âI love you.â
âI love you,â he answered immediately and rather dreamily.
âYo, Brooksy!âÂ
The call of her name from the hallway startled them both. Anita began to step over the threshold, continuing, âYou ready to get absolutely crunk tonight orâ oh.â She stopped dead in her tracks, eyes tracking Spencerâs frame. âDr. Reid.â
Spencer stepped back from Maggie, smiling a little awkwardly at the formality and giving a wave. âMrs. Lopez. Itâs, umâ itâs nice to see you again.â
Anita hummed noncommittally, and Spencer shoved his hands in his pockets. She turned her attention back to Maggie. âSo, are we going out or what?â
Maggie groaned. âAnita, Iâm exhausted. Can we keep it low key? Oh!â Her eyes lit up with an idea, and Spencer could already see where this was going. âSpence and I were gonna get dinner to celebrate, umâ summer. Call Sam; weâll all just go together.â
Anita spared a glance in Spencerâs direction before sighing heavily. âFine. But Iâm drinking.â With that, she turned on her heel and disappeared back into the hallway.
Maggie chuckled. âI swear sheâs not actually an alcoholic.â Her eyes landed on Spencerâs face, and she smiled gently. âI know you werenât expecting a Meet the Friends night, but itâll be fun.â
âShe hates me,â Spencer surmised.
âShe does not hate you.â Maggie stood from the desk, pressed a reassuring peck to his lips. âSheâs just⌠protective. Thatâs all.â
âŚ
Maggie was entirely wrong. Anita Lopez hated him. That was the only explanation for her absolutely icy demeanor.Â
Theyâd met up with her and Sam at a Mexican restaurant in Tenleytown. Sam was wonderfully kind and funny, even apologizing for having âflipped him the birdâ the last time she saw him. And it was a good thing Sam was being friendly, because Anita was decidedly⌠less so.Â
Spencer understood completely of course. Heâd broken Maggieâs heart. Penelope had been ready to hunt her down at the mere thought of him being hurt. As Maggieâs best friend, Anita had every right to be wary of him. She had every right to hate him. Heâd just... hoped that she wouldnât.Â
Thankfully, Maggie and Sam were more than happy to carry the conversationâ he and Anita chiming in here and there. He learned that Sam worked as an attorney at a firm specializing in family law. She and Anita had two kids, Riley and Sidneyâ one in 2nd grade and the other in preschool.Â
âMaggie is still Rileyâs favorite teacher ever,â Sam told him. âI mean, it helps when sheâs also your aunt, I guess.â
âHe didnât get any special treatment,â Maggie insisted. At Samâs raised eyebrow, she laughed. âOkay, maybe a little special treatment. But you raised a good kid! And I canât help it that he was the most trustworthy of the bunch.â
âOh my god, the field trip,â Sam groaned, rubbing a hand over her face.Â
âThe field trip!â Maggie turned to Spencer. âMy group of kiddos from two years agoâ they were kind of a tough group.â
âKind of?â Anita squeaked. âLet me just tell you, I can hear them through the floor. The entire middle school is literally dreading the day they make it upstairs.â
Sam piped in, âI chaperoned on said field trip to the zoo. And I vowed that I will never, ever go on another field trip. Ever.â
âWhat happened?â Spencer asked incredulously.Â
âSo many things,â Sam baited.Â
Maggie covered her mouth to stifle a cackle, leaning a bit into Spencerâs shoulder. He couldnât help but smile, looking around at the three women. Even Anita was chuckling, and sheâd barely cracked a smile all evening.Â
âOkay, so many things happened,â Maggie started, âbut the worst wasââ
âThe poop!â Sam wheezed. âThe poop was the worst part of that day. The smell alone, oh my god.â
Maggie composed herself as best she could, gesturing over the table. âSo after this nightmare of a day, we get on the bus, and thereâs thisâ smell.â
âThe absolute worst smell youâve ever smelled, Spencer,â Sam assured.Â
âItâs awful. Itâs so bad,â Maggie agreed. âAnd Iâm literally going seat to seat, checking to make sure no one has shit themselves.â
âYou could not pay me enough,â Anita chimed in.Â
âAnd I get to the seat that is very clearly where the smell is coming from. And I canât, likeâ hold my nose, right? I donât want to embarrass him!â Maggie turned to Spencer with flushed cheeks. âSo I ask, âSweetheart, did you have a bathroom accident?ââ
Spencer let out a nervous laugh. âOh no.âÂ
âBut oh, it wasnât a bathroom accident,â Maggie clarified, waving her hand. âNo, noâ that would be too easy. This child had somehow managed to obtain copious amounts of poop from one of the zoo animals and packed it into his lunchbox to take home.â
Spencer could feel his jaw drop. âOh my god.â
âSo, he unzips his lunchbox and itâs justâ overflowing with shit.â Maggie dropped her head into her hands, overcome with giggles.Â
âAnd donât forget the worst part: his mom was on the field trip!â Sam lamented, throwing her hands up. âI will never understand.â
Maggie lifted her head with an exasperated grin, and he wasnât sure if it was the story or the fact that she loved him, but Spencer felt like he could float away into outer space.Â
âI told you I had a lot of poop stories,â Maggie lamented to him, drawing another round of laughs. As they composed themselves, the waiter came by their table to clear some of their plates and refill their water.
âGod, I said we were keeping it low key, and then I drank half a pitcher,â Maggie complained, pushing back from the table. âIâm just gonna go to the bathroom. Iâll be right back.âÂ
She gave Spencer a reassuring smile, and he tried not to panic as she stood and left him with Sam and Anita. And because the universe was toying with him, at that exact moment, Samâs phone began to ring. She pulled it from her pocket with a sigh.Â
âShitâ Iâve been waiting on this call all day.â She kissed Anitaâs cheek and stood from the table. âSo sorry; Iâll just be five minutes, I promise.â
With that, it was just the two of them, staring intently at their water glasses. Spencer was certain he should say something, but he wasnât sure what. Anita broke the silence first.Â
âYou know whatâs annoying?â
Spencer wasnât sure he wanted to know. âConsidering that the issues one might classify as an annoyance vary for each individual person, there are over seven billion potential answers to that question.â
Anita tilted her head with an unimpressed purse of her lips. Spencer hedged, âAnd I understand now that it was probably rhetorical.â
âI actually kind of like you.â She leaned across the table with an irritated sigh. âI wanted to hate you, but I donât.â
He cleared his throat. âWell, Iâm, umâ Iâm glad to hear that.â
âYouâre good for her. Smart, humble, kind. Enamored with her, as you should be,â she deadpanned. She dropped her chin into her hand. âAlmost as hot as she is.â
He laughed a little at that. âThank you?â
âYouâre welcome.â She dropped her hand back to the table. She still didnât crack a smile, and her gaze bore into him. âI donât know how much you know about Owen, and sheâd probably kill me for saying anything. But he was a real piece of shit.â
This was not the direction he thought this conversation would take. He didnât know anything about Owen; heâd tried not to think too much about anyone Maggie might have been with before him.Â
âIt didnât start out that way.â She drew her brows together. âWell, I donât knowâ maybe he was always an asshole, and he was just good at hiding it.â
She shook her head and leaned back in her chair. âThe point is, I didnât know he was treating her like garbage until it was too late. He was already allâŚâ She gestured wildly around her head. âIn her head, telling her lies about herself, fucking her up, isolating her. For years he did that. And then it took her years to get him out of her head. Toâ unlearn all the lies. To build herself back up.âÂ
He could see her grinding her teeth, trying to calm down. He was intensely grateful to not be on the receiving end of Anitaâs wrath. He was also immensely glad that Maggie had a friend like that. And his blood absolutely boiled at the thought of her ever feeling anything less than adored.Â
âYouâre a fed or whatever, so I shouldnât be telling you this,â she continued, âbut I would love nothing more than to put that fucker six feet under.â She ran her hand through her hair, and when she continued her voice was the quietest heâd ever heard it. âAll that to say, I⌠I wasnât there for her when Owen was destroying her from the inside out. And I will never let that happen again.âÂ
Anita locked eyes with him and her voice was resolved. âI like you, Spencer. And I want to keep it that way. So, justâ donât give me a reason not to.â
She didnât drop her gaze, and he couldnât quite think of the appropriate response. He opened his mouth, and then closed it again. His brain was still fixated on the idea that anyone had ever hurt the loveliest and kindest woman heâd ever met.
 âWhereâs Sam?â Spencer turned just as Maggie slid back into the chair beside him, a comforting hand coming to rest on his knee.Â
âSome bullshit from the office that her idiot partner canât handle.â Anita raised her eyebrows at Spencer, and he nodded minutely. She shifted her gaze back to Maggie with a grin. âDonât worry. I didnât scare him too much.â
âŚ
âEasy.â Spencer steadied Maggie with a hand on her waist as they made the way up the stairs to his apartment.Â
âJesus, Iâm so sorry. I justâ really canât drink like I used to.â She clutched a little at the railing, and he held his breath until they were at the top of the stairs.Â
He slipped an arm back around her waist as they crossed to his apartment door, fumbling with his keys and fighting back a shiver as she snuggled close and ran her hand low over his tummy.Â
âCanât believe Iâm tipsy from a couple margaritas.â
âTo be fair, you had four,â he chuckled, turning the key and pushing open the door.Â
âOkay, okay,â she relented. âBut I used to be able to have a whole pitcher and be totally fine.â
âA pitcher?â Spencer laughed as he locked the door and turned to face her. âI canât even have one without being completely incapacitated.â
She ran her hands up from his waistband, over his chest, and wrapped them around his neck. âMmm, so youâre a lightweight.â
âVery much so,â he confirmed, bringing his hands to her hips.Â
âJust one more sweet thing to love about you, sugar.âÂ
He couldnât stop the smile from stretching across his face at the endearment, the way that North Carolina dripped syrupy and thick over every syllable. She pulled him down to meet her in a sweet kiss, quickly deepening it as he dug his fingers into the softness of her hips. Her hands wound into his hair, tugging lightly and holding him close.Â
He broke away to rest his forehead against hers and catch his breath. She laced their fingers together and leaned on him while she kicked off her shoes. He toed his own off and then allowed her to lead him toward his bedroom.Â
She sat him down on the edge of the bed and straddled his lap, bringing her hands up to tangle in his curls once again.Â
Before she could lean in for another kiss, he murmured, âIâve been thinking.â
âSounds dangerous,â she teased, ghosting her lips over his.
âHa, ha.â Part of him wanted to bring up Owen, but she was so happy and warm and comfortable in this moment. He didnât want to ruin this night of celebration. He didnât want to ruin this day that had been so full of love. They had plenty of time to discuss Owen.Â
He wrapped his arms around her middle. âYouâve met Penelope. Iâve met Anita. Now that the school year is over⌠we could tell Michael.â
She pulled back, and the smile she gave him could only be described as radiant, and he knew he made the right decision. âHeâs gonna lose his mind.â
âŚ
A week later, the pair of them were strolling up the sidewalk to the LaMontagne house. Will and JJ were long overdue for a date night, and Spencer had jumped at the opportunity for the two of them to babysit. When they reached the door, Spencer rang the bell and Maggie waited slightly behind him.Â
They could hear the joy from behind the door before it even opened, Michaelâs high pitched giggle and Willâs booming laugh. Spencer was already leaning down in preparation, and Michael absolutely launched into his arms as soon as the door swung open. Spencer clocked the moment that Michael spotted her, purely because he practically squealed and squirmed right out of Spencerâs grip.Â
âI knew it!â Michael cried.Â
He wrapped himself around Maggieâs legs and squeezed tightly, and she rubbed a hand over his hair with a bewildered smile. Michael broke away to turn back to Will with a grin. âI told you.â
âYou did, buddy.â Will gave Spencer a lopsided smile as Michael tugged Maggie forward by the hand. âMichael had an⌠inklinâ that uncle Spencer might be friends with Ms. Brooks.â
âNot friends, Daddy,â Michael said exasperatedly. âHeâs her boyfriend.â
âOh, excuse me, sorry.â Will held his hands up in apology as he stepped aside to let them all in the door. âMichael had a feelinâ that uncle Spencer might be Ms. Brooksâ boyfriend.â
Maggieâs cheeks had turned a very pretty shade of pink. âWhatâ um, what made you think that?âÂ
Michael waited patiently for her to take off her shoes. âWell firstly, he started picking me up all the time, which was nice but weird. And then he wouldnât stop asking about you. It was kind of annoying.â Spencer made a choking sound, and Will stifled a laugh.Â
âYou guys wear the same shoes, and you both love Halloween and tea and reading. I knew youâd like him if he could be a guest reader.â As he led her into the living room, Michael continued, âOh, and you wore his purple scarf. He doesnât let anyone wear the purple scarf.â
Spencer vividly remembered that morningâ sheâd slept over after a midweek date night in April. The temperatures in DC had plummeted overnight, and the outfit sheâd brought left her woefully under-dressed for the chilly spring day. Heâd wrapped her up in the soft, purple scarf without a second thought.Â
She caught his eye with a shrug, and Will tried not to look too smug. Spencer watched her be dragged further into the house, turning to Will with a sheepish smile.
âWell, guess I canât take all the credit,â Will decided. âWho knew we had a mini matchmaker this whole time?â
Spencer huffed out a laugh as Michael pulled Maggie into the playroom. âThis is the best,â Michael sighed. âNow we can play restaurant forever.â
âŚ
Spencer pulled his legs up in the tiny chair, resting his elbows on his knees and taking a moment to watch the scene in front of him unfold. Usually on nights like this, Michael ran him ragged with demands for magic tricks, story time, and playing pretend. Tonight, heâd actually been able to catch up with middle school (middle school!) Henry, because Michael was totally and completely enthralled by Maggie.Â
She was helping with the last of the setup for the ârestaurant,â organizing Michaelâs menus and straightening his clip-on tie. Of course heâd seen her with kids before. But something about being in this playroomâ one that heâd spent so many hours in, watching two of his favorite kids grow upâ had him feeling warm from head to toe.Â
Henry had bounded down the stairs at the news that uncle Spencer was dating his former kindergarten teacher. He hadnât realized that sheâd taught Henry, too, although with the timeline of her teaching career he should have put two and two together. The generally reserved middle schooler had positively beamed when she gasped out, âGosh, I always forget how tall youâve gotten!â
And now three of his absolute favorite humans were in one room, and he couldnât stop smiling.Â
âHen!â Michael called.Â
Henry turned from his spot in the chair across from Spencer. âWhat?â
âYouâre the chef,â Michael informed him.Â
Maggie tilted her head. âI thought I was the chef?â
âNo, no, no.â Michael pushed her toward the kid-sized table. âYou and uncle Spencer are on a fancy date.â
Henry rolled his eyes playfully and stood from the chair, pulling it out for her like a perfect gentleman. She beamed at him and gave him a wink. âThank you, sir.â
She dropped lightly into the chair across from Spencer and laughed a little at his folded limbs. âYou look very comfortable.âÂ
He laughed and stretched his legs out straight. âThe picture of comfort, really. These chairs were clearly designed with six foot men in mind.â
âIâm sorry Iâm so under-dressed for our fancy dinner date,â she teased, dropping her chin into her hand.Â
âYou look stunning, as always.â He gestured to the messy braid Michael had folded her hair into. âI especially love what youâre doing with your hair.â
She sucked in a dramatic breath, bringing up her hand to pat lightly at her hair. âYouâre making me blush, doctor.â She peeked behind her and then lowered her voice. âIâm probably going to cry when I try to brush the rats out.âÂ
He looked at her sympathetically. âI know the feeling. I think Iâve got a wide tooth comb, and I can help. Iâve gotten pretty good at detangling Michaelâs handiwork.â
Before she could respond, Michael made his way to the table, holding a dish towel over his arm. âGood evening, sir, madam.âÂ
âGood evening,â they chorused, with barely suppressed grins.Â
âCompliments of the chef.â Michael held out his hand to reveal two slightly smushed strawberries.
âOh, wow,â Maggie said, eyes wide and gesturing to Spencer. âHoney, do you want toââ
Spencer waved his hand, eyeing the berries warily. âNo, no, please, help yourself.â
Maggie held back a smile and accepted the strawberries, holding them carefully in her hand and turning her attention back to Michael. âThank you so much. What a wonderful appetizer. Could we hear the specials?â
That helped Michael remember the menus, and he pulled them from his pocket and cleared his throat. He handed them the construction paper menus. âOur specials tonight are roasted octopus and a steak tartar.â
From the kitchen, Henry mumbled, âTartare.âÂ
âTartare. Steak tartare is our special,â Michael corrected.Â
âHmm, I donât know if Iâm that adventurous. Maybe my boyfriend is though,â Maggie told a grinning Michael. âWhat do you recommend for a picky eater?â
âMy favorite is the chicken nuggets.â
âWell then, sign me up. One order of chicken nuggets.â Maggie handed him the menu.Â
Spencer was still perusing the menu for Le Chateau LaMontagne. He smiled at Michaelâs handwriting, but particularly at the places where he could tell Maggie had helped. âEverything looks delicious,â he finally decided, âbut, you know... I think Iâm also going to have the nuggets.â
âŚ
When the boys were finally in bed, Spencer and Maggie settled down in the living room to untangle the mess of her hair. She sat on the floor in between his legs as he gently pulled each braid strand free. He smiled at the way she arched up into his touch, shivering when his fingers brushed over her neck.Â
âYouâre lucky,â he remarked, laying the last braid strand back into its original place. âMichael seems to have gotten a little better at braiding.â
She leaned her head back into his hands. âYou detangled the whole thing?â
âMmhm.â He leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead, then her nose, then her mouth. She brought her hands up to hold him against her, trying to deepen the kiss before laughing at the awkward angle and giving up.Â
He sat up as she stood and moved to the couch, snuggling up close to him and tucking herself under his arm. âIâm very lucky,â she agreed. âFor many reasons.â
Her hand drifted to rest on his tummy, her fingers immediately tracing little shapes over the fabric of his shirt. He pressed a kiss into her hair. âAnd tired, too.â
âHmm?âÂ
He leaned his cheek against her head. âWhen you get tired, you, umâ you start drawing on my stomach.âÂ
Her finger paused. âDo I?â
âYeah.â She shifted to raise her head to look at him, and he shrugged. âI donât mind. Iâve justâ noticed.â
She smiled a little sleepily. âYou know I love all of you. But Iâ well, I donât know, really. I just like your tummy.â She gave it a quick squeeze. âItâs justâ nice and comfy and perfect for resting on.âÂ
He covered her hand with his own and leaned forward to press their mouths together. She drew his bottom lip in between her own, sucking a little and then giving it a quick peck before pulling back and stifling a yawn into his chest. âMan, I am tired.â She snuggled back into him and resumed her tummy tracing. âWhat, umâ what else have you noticed?â
He rubbed his hand down her arm and pulled her impossibly closer. âYou like to play with my hair.â
âMmmm, guilty as charged.â
He smiled at the sleep creeping into her voice. âI like it, too.â He ran his fingers up to her shoulder, and then back down to the crook of her arm, soothing her closer to sleep. âHmmmm. You always have at least one point of contact on my body at all times. Itâs usually your hands, but sometimes itâs your head or even your toesâ like when you tuck them under my leg.â
âUghâ Iâm sorry. Clingy and putting my feet on you,â she mumbled.
She might have been joking, but Anitaâs words were replaying in his head. He couldnât change what had happened in the past. He couldnât go back and prevent her from being hurt by someone else. But he could be different in every way. He could be open and honest and vulnerable with her like heâd promised.Â
âIâm not sorry. I love all of you,â he murmured, pulling her in closer and repeating her words back to her.Â
âEven my feet?âÂ
He could also show her that there was absolutely nothing that he didnât love about her. âEspecially your feet.â
She huffed a sigh into his chest. âYâgot a foot thing I donât know about?â
He laughed a little at that. âOnly for yours. Theyâre very cute feet.â
âYouâre weird,â she muttered, but she hugged him tighter when she said it.
âYou love it.â
Her fingers on his tummy had come to rest comfortably just above his waistband, and he knew she was on the very edge of sleep. âMmhm. Love you.â
He thought of all the little moments over the past few months.
Doesnât live up to expectations? Sorry for overstepping. Are we dating? Sorry for being clingy. Sorry for taking so long to tell you. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.
âI love you, too,â he murmured. âSo much.â
âââ
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Robin and the Whore (Nightwing)
I wrote this, like, back in 2016. I figured that I should bring these fics back since Iâm back in the DC hell hole.
Contains: Prostitution
~ Masterlist ~
Heh, itâs ironic how things turn out sometimes.
It was late at night when I was finally able to walk back home to my shit excuse of an apartment, though I shouldâve known that it wouldnât be so simple. I was assaulted by a group of men that I had asked to get kicked out at my work since they were being too rowdy. That, and they didnât have enough money.
Whatâs my profession, you ask?
Iâm a prostitute, of course.
Funnily enough, I did try and fight back when they first jumped me, but after a while, I just⌠lost the will. After all, no one would care if a prostitute died while being raped in an alleyway.
Itâs too bad fate wasnât so kind to let me die after making me live this shitty life.
âWhy⌠did you save me?â I croaked out dully to the masked hero as he cradled me gently to his chest.
Strange. I donât remember ever being treated so tenderly.
âNo one deserves to be treated like that,â he whispered. âCan you tell me where you live?â He asked gently.
I mumbled out my address deliriously and allowed myself to be carried by the vigilante. I was just too tired to give a fuck.
Nightwing looked down at the woman cradled in his arms, a pained expression on his face as her words echoed solemnly within him.
Had BlĂźdhaven fallen so far that this poor woman thought that she didnât deserve to be saved?
He shook his head. The most important thing right now was to bring her home.
Nightwing knew of where she lived. A shady apartment along a shady street. He vaguely remembered going there for a couple of drug raids.
It took him a while to find her apartment, but when he did, he was awed by how terrible it was. Her apartment was small, and the walls were barren and drab. An old CRT TV sat in the corner of the cramped living roomâmind you there was such a thing called an HD flatscreen TV nowadaysâand an old Dell laptop sat atop an unattractive, old couch.
Poor girl, he thought as he gently laid her down on the couch. Maybe he should wait for her to wake up.
I blearily opened my eyes, noticing that I was staring up at the ceiling of my apartment.
âWh⌠WhatâŚ?â
âYou finally awake, miss?â
I shrieked in surprise at the additional voice and soon found myself on the floor of my apartment.
âH-hey! Are you okay?â
I opened my eyes tentatively to find a masked hero looking down at me with concern. I traced the blue bird symbol that sat upon his chest, recognizing it instantly. BlĂźdhavenâs very own hero, Nightwing.
I pushed aside the hand he held out for me to grab onto and stood up on my own. âYeah, Iâm okay,â I responded as I turned away from him, brushing the hair out of my face. âLook, I appreciate that you helped me and all, but Iâm fine. Really. Iâve⌠been doing this for a while now.â
Nightwing shook his head. âI think you need help, miss. No one deserves to live a life like this,â he said, vaguely gesturing around himself. âNor do they deserve selling their body to earn a crap living,â he tried to reason.
I let out a humorless laugh. âLifeâs an ass. Sometimes we just gotta live with whatever cards life hands us,â I responded bitterly, still refusing to look at the vigilante.
âThen why not take the chance to get help when itâs here?â He asked.
My world paused as I considered what he said. Was I really going to accept help from a total stranger when everyone else I knew abandoned me? Was it worth the risk of possibly being abandoned again?
I turned to look at the vigilante. His hand was stretched outward for me to take.
Before I realized it, I found my hand in his.
I let out a scoff as soon as I regained my senses. âFine, Iâll play your game. How about I live with you for a month? If nothing changes, then you let me go, and weâll pretend this never happened.â
Nightwing smiled. âDeal.â
Next thing I knew, Iâm standing in a pretty spacious condo. Papers were strewn here and there, and boxes of various sugary cereals were lined up nicely against some of the walls. Some of the cereal boxes were even arranged in a small castle.
Getting my things together was easy as Nightwing would only let me bring clothes that werenât skanky to high well, and I didnât really own any personal possessions.
âYou can put your stuff into this drawer,â he directed as he began to empty out a drawer for me. Hesitantly, I placed my bag into the drawer. âYou can also take my bed, Iâll sleep on the pullout. The bathroom is just right there. And as for foodâŚâ He rubbed his neck sheepishly. âI hope youâre okay with cereal for a few days⌠or weeks. Unless you can cook.â
I settled myself down on a stool by the kitchenette. âOnly a little bit. Nothing too fancy.â
Nightwing smiled gently as he began to peel off the domino mask from his face. âWell, since youâll be living with me for a bit, I suppose itâs only appropriate that you know who I am.â He held out his hand for me to shake. âIâm Dick Grayson.â
âShort for Richard, right?â I asked as I shook his hand.
Dick raised his eyebrows in surprise. âThatâs usually not the first thing people say to me when I introduce myself, but yes, Richard âDickâ Grayson.â
I smiled wryly. âYouâre Bruce Wayneâs adopted son. Sorry, when you meet and bed a lot of BlĂźdhaven and Gotham royalty, you tend to be a bit⌠indifferent about meeting the top one percent.â
Dick nodded understandingly. âMakes sense. Despite being a part of that one percent, I get tired of meeting snobby, rich people,â he chuckled. âAnyways, whatâs your name?â
I felt my smile leave my face as I gave a noncommittal shrug. âDonât really remember my birth name, if I ever had one. People usually just call me Velvet, if thatâs something you want to call me.â
The easygoing smile also left Dickâs face as he heard my answer. âIsnât there something you want to be called?â
I shrugged again. âNot really, no. I donât really care.â
Dick went silent as he began to think. âWhat about I call you Hester? Hester Hawthorne?â He asked.
I raised my brow. âHester? Not really a name you hear in this day and age, but what do I know.â
âSheâs the protagonist of The Scarlet Letter,â he explained.
Dick looked at me expectantly. I only stared back blankly. âAm I supposed to know what that isâŚ?â
âYouâre never heard of it?â Dick asked in surprise.
I shrugged. âIâve lived off the streets for as long as I can remember, Dick. Of course Iâm not gonna know things you probably had a high education about,â I replied plainly.
Dick stood up to grab a book from one of his shelves and handed me a book with a fancy looking âAâ on a black background. âItâs a classical novel,â he explained. âIt tells the story of a woman who endures through her punishment.â
I gently examined the book in my hands curiously, flipping through the pages a few times, though the words made no sense to me. âThis⌠is the first time Iâve held a book,â I whispered as I fingered the pages. âI donât even know what these words say or meanâŚâ
â⌠Would you like me to teach you how to read?â Dick asked gently as he placed a hand on my arm.
I looked up hesitantly at him, taking the time to actually examine his face. âCan you do that for meâŚ?â
Dick grinned kindly at me. âIf itâll make you happy, then why not? But, not right now, of course!â He gestured to himself. âI need to shower and change into regular clothes first,â he chuckled.
âOh, okay. Iâll just be here, I guess,â I said, my attention returning to the book as Dick left me to my own devices.
Itâs only been a few minutes since Iâve been here, and I can already feel things changing for me.
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