#so they really were tryna use stud in that way

[noirsfantasy]

𝕽𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖔𝖋 𝕯𝖊𝖘𝖎𝖗𝖊 | 𝖕𝖙. 2

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 ➛ Jonathan Majors as Dame Anderson x Black!Plus-sized Reader

𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 ➛ Smut

𝔣𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔬𝔪 ➛ Creed

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱 ➛4.2k

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 ➛After not hearing from Adonis for a week, you realize that, maybe it really was just a fling. So, you decide to get your mind off of him. And the one who just so happens to be there is Dame…

𝔞/𝔫 ➛Y'all thought the first one was wild? Well, get ready for this next one, hehe.

𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰 ➛ @cardi-bre91

I'm out with my girls on a Saturday night, turning up in a club. I was thrown ass on my girl, Ari, and my other girl, Liyah, is recording and hyping us up. We're all tipsy, enjoying ourselves as the music bumps loudly in the background. I don't usually go clubbing, but when I do, it's to get my mind off of something. And tonight I wanted to forget about my disappointment with men.

See, I'd recently been hooking up with this guy, Adonis Creed. He's a famous boxer, but that wasn't why I was interested in him. I truly enjoyed being around him. He gave me a touch of passion that made my body quiver. But all good things come to an end, don't they?

Enough about that. Tonight is all about getting drunk and forgetting about all my troubles. As I sway my hips against my friend, giggling as we dance the night away, I feel eyes on me. Men are staring, their gazes burning with desire. I smirk and ignore them, but I do enjoy feeling wanted. Under the glow of the neon lights, I dance the night away, as Liyah and Ari cheer me on.

Taking a break, we make our way back to our table, giggling and carefree.

"I can't believe you can move like that in that dress, girl." Liyah chuckles as she slides into the booth. I laugh as I slide in after Ari, laying my head on the table.

"Girl, ion even know, but that shit was movin'!" I reply.

"You shoulda seen all the guys you had drooling over you." Ari adds and I shake my head.

"Hey, I'm tryna get my mind off of guys tonight, remember?" I remind them and Liyah rolls her eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, we know." She takes the bottle from our table and downs the rest of it.

"Liyah, seriously?" Ari asks disapprovingly.

"What, girl? There was barely any left." Liyah raises her hands in defense. I giggle and stand up, a bit tipsy but still able to function.

"Chill out, I'll go get us some more drinks." I say, sliding out of the booth. "Be back before you know it."

"How 'bout I get you ladies another round?" I hear a deep, sexy voice rumble from behind me. As I turn around to see who it is, I come face to face with a tall, handsome man looking down at me with interest. I recognize him as the current heavyweight champion, Dame Anderson. I know he and Donnie had a bit of a falling out and that they were preparing for a title fight. I'd only ever heard about him through media, but we've never actually met. So I have no idea what he's doing here, talking to me.

"Holy shit, is that Damian Anderson?" Ari slurs in surprise and he smirks at her.

"The one and only, but y'all beautiful ladies can call me Dame." He winks at them and then his eyes shifts back to me. I have to stop myself from biting my lip at the sight of him. He's a total stud— ruggedly handsome with an intense gaze and a muscular frame. My friends look at me with anticipation, sensing the attraction between us.

"That's very kind of you, Dame," I purr, looking up into his eyes daringly. "But we can't have you paying for our drinks all night. We might end up owing you in return." Damian cracks a lopsided grin.

"That' doesn't sound all that bad to me." he says, leaning in a little closer, talking over the music. The scent of his cologne wafts over me as he continues to speak. "I'm pretty sure there are plenty of ways you could pay me back." He says, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

"Oh yeah? How?" I ask with a bit of challenge, stepping closer to him. My friends giggle girlishly as they watch. A confident, yet sly grin spreads across Dame's face as he leans in to whisper a low, suggestive response in my ear.

"How 'bout a dance?" As he pulls back, his eyes linger on me for a moment longer before he glances at my friends and looks back at me. "Whaddaya say, sweetheart?"

"Sure, why not." I respond, not having to give it much thought as I move past him, towards the bar. "And it's Y/n, by the way." I correct him, looking him up and down. A flicker of surprise crosses his eyes as he bites his lip, turning to follow me.

"Y/n," He repeats, testing out the sound of my name on his tongue. Although, something about the look in his eyes says that he already knew what my name was. After we stop by the bar and order a round for my table, we head out to the dance floor, the bass from the speakers vibrating through the room.

As we get to the dancefloor, Dame pulls me close to him, wrapping his arms around my waist. Mine instinctively wrap around his neck and our bodies move in sync to the music. Our bodies mold together perfectly, his hard planes against my soft curves. As we dance, he whispers in my ear, his warm breath tickling my neck.

"You know, you really caught my eye earlier, Y/n."

"Is that so?" I ask, gazing up at him as I grind my hips against his, causing a low groan to escape from him.

"Yeah, you did." Damian replies as his arms tighten around me for a moment before relaxing again. "I know you was fuckin' with Donnie. you've been on my radar." He smirks, leaning in a bit closer. I raise an eyebrow at him, somehow not surprised he's known about me.

"So what? You just been stalking me?" I inquire, causing Dame to chuckle at my response.

"Nah, just keeping an eye on who's eyeing my rival." He says, his eyes not leaving mine. "I had to know for myself what the fuss was about." I roll my eyes and turn away from him, feeling him press against my back as his hands migrate to my hips.

"It ain't like I'm his girl or anything," I say as I grind my body against his, feeling his grip on my hips tighten. His eyes follow the movement of my body, appreciating the way my curves fit against him.

"Good. Cuz I ain't really the sharing type" Damian smirks down at me.

"So, you only want me cuz he had me at some point?" I turn in his arms and he pulls me in closer.

"Oh, there's plenty of reasons why I'd want you, sweetheart." His eyes trail over my body for a moment before meeting mine again. "And if it happens to piss off my rival, that's just the icing on the cake."

His words send a spark of excitement through my body. Damian wants me and he isn't afraid to show it. This man, with his intense gaze and powerful presence, is hungry for me, and it makes my desire for him grow stronger. I can't help but bite my lip as his gaze pierces through me.

A part of me wants to at least be offended by him basically using me for his games. Although, the other part of me, the part that likes to live on the edge, doesn't give a fuck. I do what I want and who I want. And who I want right now is Dame. I smirk as I place my hands on his chest, pulling him close enough for me to whisper in his ear.

"You're gonna get me in trouble." A sly grin spreads across his face as I speak.

"Oh, I think you can handle it." He responds, his hands running up my sides, lightly touching my soft skin through my dress. "In fact, I bet part of you likes a little bit of trouble."

"Mm, you think you know me?" I ask teasingly as I lean in close to his face, looking at him through my lashes. He leans his face even closer, our lips nearly touching.

"I know enough." He admits with a smirk, his hands gliding over my hips. "And I know you like that I want you, even if it's to get under Baby Creed's skin." He chuckles softly. "But that doesn't mean I don't actually want you." His eyes lock on mine, a mixture of desire and challenge burning in his gaze. The world seems to slow around us as our bodies sway to the music.

"What exactly is it you're proposing?" Dame slides one hand around to the small of my back, using the other to gently tilt her chin toward me. Our faces are inches apart, and his eyes hold a mix of hunger and playfulness. A cocky smirk crosses his face as he answers my question with a low, gravelly voice.

"How 'bout you come find out, sweetheart?" He challenges. I decide not to waste any more time on words and I pull him towards me, crashing my lips into his. As our lips meet, it's as if a spark ignites between us. Dame responds to the kiss with a fierce intensity, our mouths moving against each other hungrily.

His large hands roam over my body, pulling me closer as he devours my lips. The sounds and lights of the club fade away as I lose myself in the moment, the taste and feel of him fueling my desire. My breath hitches as he bites my bottom lip, demanding more.

We break the kiss after what feels like both seconds and an eternity. I look into his eyes and they're dark with desire and a bit of challenge. Damian leans in close to my ear and whispers with a chuckle, "Let's get out of here. I want you all to myself."

I don't need any more convincing. Taking his hand, we make our way out of the club, waving to my girls as my heart pounds with anticipation. The night air is cool on our skin as we walk, the city lights illuminating our path. During the ride to his place, he keeps a firm, possessive grip on my thigh that sends tingles to my core. As we arrive at his luxury apartment building, Dame guides me inside, our bodies feeling electrified with desire.

As we step into the elevator and the doors close behind us, he gets a ravenous look in his eye. He presses me against the wall, my back coming in contact with the cold metal as his large frame presses against me. His mouth crashes into mine in a hungry kiss, his hands traveling to grasp either side of my ass. I ball my hands into the fabric of his shirt, moaning into the fiery kiss.

A low groan escapes Damian's lips as I pull him deeper into the kiss, our tongues tangling in a dance of desire. My body is on fire, the tension between us palpable. As the elevator reaches his floor, he reluctantly breaks the kiss, leading me into his penthouse apartment.

Our lips aren't parted for long as he lifts me up by my thighs, wrapping my legs around his waist, claiming my lips in another heated kiss. The feeling of being manhandled by this ruggedly handsome man sent sparks of excitement through my body. My heart races as he walks slowly towards the living room, his lips never leaving mine. He lays me down on the plush rug in front of the fireplace, the dancing flames casting an erotic glow over the room.

Dame gazes down at me, chest heaving. "Damn, baby. You feel even better than I imagined." He growls, his fingers tracing my curves. His eyes are dark with lust as he takes in the sight of me sprawled out beneath him.

I run my hands up his muscular arms, biting my lip coyly. "Well, you ain't seen nothin' yet." I purr, rolling my hips against him. A low groan rumbles in his chest as he dips his head, his lips trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down my neck. His large hands slide up my thighs, bunching my dress up as he goes.

"I plan on seein' and feelin' a whole lot more." He murmurs against my skin, teeth grazing my sensitive neck. I shiver with anticipation, my hands moving to grip his shoulders as he continues his sensual assault.

Damian's fingers hook into the delicate fabric of my panties, his intent clear. I arch my back, silently begging him to take what he wants. This is what I came here for - to be devoured by this confident, powerful man. And I have a feeling he's more than ready to oblige.

His eyes darken with pure lust as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of my panties, slowly dragging them down my legs. "That's it, baby. Let me see all of you." He growls, voice thick with desire. His gaze rakes over my exposed skin hungrily, drinking in every inch.

With one swift motion, he tugs my panties all the way off, tossing them aside. His calloused palms glide up the silky smooth skin of my thighs, parting them slightly. "Fuck, you're gorgeous." He murmurs, pure want radiating from him. Lowering his head, his stubble-lined jaw grazes the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, eliciting a sharp gasp from me.

"Dame..." I breathe, fingers threading into his short hair. He pauses, eyes flicking up to meet mine.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'm gonna take real good care of you." He promises in a low, raspy tone before burying his face between my legs. I gasp with pleasure, my back arching a bit as the feeling is more intense than anticipated.

Damian's expert tongue swirls and licks, sending electric shocks of pleasure through my body. I let out a desperate moan, my fingers tightening in his hair as I arch into his mouth.

"Oh fuck, Dame..." I gasp against his talented ministrations. He hums in approval, the vibrations sending tingles through my core. One of his large hands grips my thigh, keeping me spread open for his voracious appetite.

Just when I think I might come undone, he pulls back slightly, gazing up at me with lust-filled eyes. I whine as I gaze down at him.

"You taste so goddamn good, baby girl." He growls, voice rough with desire. Before I can respond, his mouth is on me again, creating a suction of pleasure around my clit.

My toes curl and my back arches as the coil of pleasure tightens within me. Dame's skilled tongue and lips push me higher and higher, the world fading away until all I can focus on is the mind-numbing sensations he's drawing from my body.

"Holy shit, holy shit!" I exclaim as I come undone faster than I intended, squirting forcefully into his mouth. I had expected to make a huge mess all over the carpet, but Dame laps up every last drop eagerly, savoring my sweet taste. His eyes flutter shut as he drinks me in, relishing the sounds of cries of ecstasy.

When I've finally ridden out the last waves of my climax, he pulls back slightly, gazing up at me through hooded eyes. His lips and beard glisten with my arousal, and he licks them slowly, not letting a single drop go to waste.

"You taste so fucking good, baby." He growls, his voice raspy. His large hands caress my trembling thighs as he repositions himself, settling between my legs. "And I'm just getting started."

With that, he leans back down, his face disappearing between my thighs once more. His tongue delves deep, stroking with a single-minded focus on my pleasure. One of his hands moves to my sensitive bundle of nerves, rubbing in firm, sensual circles.

I squirm and squeal under his touch as he holds me in place, keeping me from fleeing. "You can't run, sweetheart. I'm gonna make you come again and again and again." His words only serve to fan the flames of my desire and I know I'm in for a long night.

I can't make an intelligible response as I'm overstimulated, my hips bucking and my nails digging into his harms, drawing blood.

"Damian-" I gasp, my mind clouded. "It's- It's too much!" I manage to say, my body no longer under my control. Dame pauses, his intense gaze shifting to one of mischief.

"Too much, huh?" He murmurs, his strong hands stilling my shaking thighs. A devilish smirk spreads across his lips. "Don't worry, babe. I know just how to take care of you." With that, he shifts his position, strong arms wrapping around my waist as he pulls me up onto his lap. Our bodies are pressed flush together, his clothed length evident against my sensitive flesh. One hand tangles into my hair, tugging my hair back gently.

"I'm gonna make you feel so good, baby," he whispers, his warm breath fanning across my neck. "Just let me take control." His lips find mine in a searing, consuming kiss, swallowing any protests I was about to make.

As the kiss deepens, his other hand caresses my body, igniting sparks of sensation. A guttural groan rembles ing Dame's chest as he feels my arousal soaking through the fabric of his pants. He breaks the fiery kiss, dark eyes smoldering with desire as he drinks in the sight of me flushed and panting in his arms.

"Mmm, you're so fucking wet for me." He husks, one hand trailing down my side to grip my hip possessively. "I bet you're lacking to feel me inside you, aren't you?" His hips roll up, pressing his hardness against my slick heat.

Unable to form a coherent response, I whimper and nod desperately, my body betraying just how badly you crave his touch. Damian lets out a low, satisfied chuckle.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, I'm gonna give you exactly what you need." With that, he pulls his shirt off, exposing his large, defined muscles. I don't get much time to take him in as he quickly unbuckles his pants and lifts me effortlessly, positioning me over his throbbing length. Slowly, torturously, he lowers me down, stretching and filling me in one smooth motion.

The feeling is indescribable, a perfect blend of pleasure and sweet, delicious pain. I let out a strangled moan, my nails sinking into his broad shoulders as I savor the sensation of being so completely and utterly full.

"Shitttt~ Take me just like that, baby. You're doing so good." Damian praises, his voice strained with restraint. His hands grip my hips, guiding my movements as I start to ride him with desperate, rhythmic motions. I whine with desire as I stretch around him. This feels different than with Adonis. Donnie could barely push all the way into me with how long his cock was. Although, Damian could fill me just right. Not only that, his girth was thicker. I look down, watching myself slide down onto his length as I let out a high pitched moan.

"Please, please, please~" I beg with desperation as I pull his chest against mine, my brows knit together in ecstasy. Dame groans, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of my hips.

"Fuck, you feel so good wrapped around me, baby." He growls, his hips snapping up to meet my motions. I yelp as he fills me, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the air. I can feel the coil of pleasure tightening once more, only spurring me on further. "Ride me like that, baby. I wanna feel you come undone on my cock." He whispers.

I press down and grind against him, his cock straining against my walls. Damian's eyes darken with pure lust as he works his cock deeper inside me, thrusting his hips up with more force. His hands slide down to where we're joined, his calloused fingers finding my sensitive bundle of nerves. He rubs firm, sensual circles, eliciting a strangled cry of pleasure from my lips.

"Dame~" I Whimper, my walls fluttering around his impressive girth. "I'm so close..." He let's out a feral groan, his tempo increasing as he chases both of our releases.

"Come for me, baby." He demands, his teeth grazing my neck as his arms tighten around me. I wrap my arms around his neck, leaning my head back as I bounce on his dick, my tits finally falling free of my tight dress. Damian's mouth latches onto one pert nipple, sucking on it with an insatiable hunger.

I let out a strangled gry of pleasure, my nails raking down his back as the sensations threaten to overwhelm me. Dame's cock stretches and fills me perfectly, each movement sending electric shocks of bliss ricocheting through my body.

"I- I'm gonna~" I don't finish my sentence as I gasp loudly, my movements becoming frantic and erratic. He matches me, his thrusts becoming more deep and punishing as his mouth crashes into mine. My vision whites out as the most intense orgasm rips through me, my body convulsing in Dame's arms. He swallows my cries of ecstasy as he continues to move within me, drawing out every last aftershock of my release.

"That's my girl," he praises, his voice strained with his own impending climax. He continues to rub relentlessly at my clit and I can do nothing but become putty in his hands.

"Dame!" I squeal, biting my lip hard as I try to take it.

"That's right, baby. Say my name," He says lowly, his thrust becoming harder and random. He pulls me flush against him with each punishing thrust until the tension within him finally snaps. With a guttural groan, he spills himself deep inside me. His hips stutter and jerk as he rides out his climax, his grip on me bordering on bruising.

As I feel his warmth fill me, I can't help but sigh heavily, laying my head on his shoulder. Damian lets out a deep, contented sigh as I lay my head on his shoulder, our bodies still intimately joined. As I pant heavily, he gently brushes a stray lock of hair from my face.

"That's right, sweetheart. Just relax." He mumbles, pressing a tender kiss to my forehead. HIs arms wrap around me, holding me close as the last tremors of our shared release subside.

"You did so good." Dame breathes with a note of awe in his voice. "I mean, I knew you'd feel incredible, but you've just... You're a goddess." He says as if he's just realizing now that he's met an angel in disquise.

"That was…" I start, unable to find the words. He chuckles warmly, pulling me close against his chest as his fingers trace soothing patterns along my spine. He softens inside me, pulling out slowly as he lays me down on the couch. Standing up, he goes leaves the livingroom briefly. My body relaxes as I lay on the couch, waiting for him to come back.

Damian returns with a warm, damp washcloth and gently cleans me up, his touch tender and caring - a stark contrast to his earlier intensity. As he wipes away the evidence of our shared intimacy, something stirs inside him.

He'd only known about me, because I was seen with Adonis. And, honestly, he only went after me to get back at him and throw Donnie off of his game. But seeing me like this, all he wants to do is take care of me and treat me right.

There was something so wrong about this. He'd slept with many women before and he had plenty of women still lined up that wanted him badly. After all, he's the champ. But as he gazes over me, my beautiful form on the edge of sleep, he can't help but feel something. He doesn't know what it is, but it's definitely not something he's felt with anyone else.

His hand comes up and brushes against the soft skin on my face. He pauses slightly as he wrestles with the unfamiliar emotions swirling within him. Something about me has reached past his carefully constructed walls, and Dame finds himself wanting - no, needing - more than a simple one night stand.

But he pushes those thoughts aside for now, focusing instead on savoring the moment. Once he's finished cleaning up our mess, he tosses the cloth aside and gathers me into his arms, cradling me against his broad chest. His fingertips trace feather-light patterns along my bare skin, sending pleasurable shivers through my body.

"I could hold you like this all night," he murmurs, dropping a soft kiss to the top of my head. "But I'm sure you're exhausted after that." I nod, my cheek pressed against his chest as I melt into him. The corner of his mouth turns up as he caresses my curves.

"Why don't we get you cleaned up and into a nice hot shower, hm? Then we can go to bed." He suggests, a loving look in his eye.

"Can we do that?" I ask, looking up at him wearily as my voice is barely above a whisper. His gaze softens as he looks down at me.

"Of course, baby." He scoops me up effortlessly, carrying me towards the bathroom as my head rests against his chest. The care and tenderness in his actions makes my heart flutter, and I can't help but wonder, where this is going to go. But I push that thought to the back of my mind as I just want to enjoy the moment.

[saintwrld]

Come my way

hbcu!Shuri x reader x hbcu!Emerald Haywood

summary: in which you’re a cheerleader and the school’s most popular duo decided to shoot their shot with a little twist at the end.

inspired by: bad to me by wizkid

warnings: slight cussing (it’s barely there), HEAVY teasing, stud!shuri, nervous ass reader, surprise at the end 🤭

taglist: @pinkwright @locoforshuri @axailslink @cuddl3s4shur1 @ventingfanfics @verachii @inmyheadimobsessed @generallysapphic @shuriszn @thevenusianleo @zayswriting @haechvn @percsane @risingoftime @rxcently @ziayamikaelson @blackgirlfariy @ogbells16 @n7cje @mbakuetshurisprincess @hetr0ph0bic @heejayy @heartsforjojo @shuriszn @letitias-fav @quintessencewrites @queenofsimpsblog @shinsousliya @vixentheplanet @mrsudakuu @mocha-aya

dividers: @firefly-graphics

a/n: it’s a late ass Valentines drabble but this is for all my baes!! I hope you enjoy this and the little surprise. just know that i can’t write smut for shit (gotta practice) so that’s why there isn’t any really in this one shot. @verachii your request is coming up soon bae! ok enjoy!

"Could I get some help with my bow?" You said, holding your bow out in defeat. Your hair was just not co operating today.

"You don't have to wear the bow, girl. It's optional plus you gotta show your middle part buss down, i ain't lay that shit for nothing!" Your teammate, Faith, exclaimed. Her makeup was already done and she was ready to go. It didn't seem like that for some of your other teammates as they were gossiping and barely getting ready.

Riri came in, slamming her gym bag on the bench behind her, sitting down afterwards and holding her head in her hands.

"What's up with you?" You asked, looking at your friend through the mirror. "So, I'm tryna rehearse the choreo with Amara but it's not fucking working because she over there squealin like a damn pig!"

You chuckle a little at your best friend's words, seeing her angrily tie up her sneakers. "Was it because of one of the football players? Didn't he cheat?" You asked, applying a coat of clear lipgloss and finishing your makeup.

"He did but that ain't the point. She fangirling over two people that are apparently attending the match and I swear I couldn't get a word in." Riri rolled her eyes for the nth time that afternoon.

"But you got your steps down though, right? Me, you and y/n were put in the front for a reason. If the rest of the team fucks up then it's on them." Faith expressed, making Riri nod her head at the previous question.

Before you could speak, the coach came in and gathered the team around, specifically side eying the others who weren't ready yet.

"Now imma need all of you to show up and show out tonight. When Beyoncé play, you get to strutting and make me proud. You gotta get out there in 30 minutes so to those that ain't ready, hurry up." Coach exclaimed, making everyone walk away and finish up.

As you and the other cheerleaders stood by the underground field entrance waiting for your cue, you could hear students piling in along with music playing loudly. You heard people wanting to get food from the stalls which were next to the field, reminding you to eat after this.

Coach gave you the cue to go out and stand in your places in front of the large crowd. "Is it me or did the whole campus show up because damn." You saw Riri observing the crowd, shocked by the turn up.

"It's Casey Lu's party tonight for valentines and she invited everybody and they mama so people just decided to come here before going there." Faith informed you guys as you were walking closer to the field. "Ain't she that rich girl that everybody knows?" You ask and Faith nods. "Ole girl said she got Ice Spice coming so you know everybody gone be there. Including us." Faith smiled at you two and you both looked bewildered at her last sentence.

"Inclu-" you cut yourself off when everyone stopped in their spots, with you front and centre. You looked into the crowd and saw almost everyone turn their heads towards the pair that just walked in. The seemingly popular pair quickly scanned the crowd for seats, finding two open spots which were right in front of you.

Unable to take your eyes off of them, you were forced to because you heard Amara squeal from behind. "Oh my god, it's them." She said barely under a whisper but she was loud enough that you and Riri could hear. Looking over at the pair, you saw how their eyes were looking through the cheer team and eventually land on you.

Your breath hitched as they made eye contact with you, smirking and dapping each other up in a subtle way. Before you could even comprehend any thoughts, you heard the intro to 'America has a problem' by Beyoncé. Immediately your focus was executing the steps perfectly.

After the electrifying performance that you all had put on, the crowd gave the cheer team a standing ovation with whistles and cheers flying through the air. You kept a bright smile on your face despite breathing like you ran through a marathon. Your eyes focused on the pair seated on the bleachers who were, once again, staring you down, definitely giving you more butterflies than the first time.

Throughout the game, the cheer team had to do small congratulatory cheers for their school team after every two wins which was exhausting because your school had won the game, beating the rival opponents by celebrating in their faces.

By the time the game is done, the crowd was still buzzing through the summer evening, many of them flocking towards the food stalls. You would join them but you had to change out of your uniform and make it to your dorm to change for the party. Looking over to the two empty seats that were in front, you noticed the pair was gone and as you looked around, they were nowhere to be found.

"With the way we ate today, I'm surprised we aren't in the netflix show." Faith said, making you smile about how the crowd reacted to something you choreographed. Because of your amazing performance, coach gave y'all a week to rest and to be ready when it's time to get back.

Taking off your shoes, you looked in the mirror and saw that your makeup was still intact but you wanted to touch up a little in the dorm. Hearing your teammate's voices get louder on the other side of the lockers, you tried to not listen but they were still loud.

"Yeah girl, I saw them! Make me wanna forget about my own boyfriend!" One voice giggled. Many other voices agreed with them then cackling. You didn't even realise you were done changing until Faith tapped your shoulder. "You ready? We gotta shower then I gotta fix up our hair." She called and you nodded. You walked out with her and Riri, saying bye to your other teammates who all responded back.

It took at least two and a half hours for all of you to get ready, seeing as the party only started at eleven and it was ten thirty. "Do y'all know the address?" You asked, typing on your phone to find info at the party. You finished taking pictures in your bathroom and your two friends looked at you in awe.

"Damn, I did a good ass job like? You better get hoes today!" Faith cheered as she recorded you, Riri walking in at the right moment with you and Faith hyping her up. "Our outfits are so cute . We're serving face." You said, applying lipgloss once again.

"Only the best for ice spice." Riri smiled as she hyped you and Faith up this time.

The three of you entered the enormous house with free access since cheerleaders and football players get in for free. The slight smell of weed and different kinds of perfume filled the air, with the capacity of the house shocking you. There were people everywhere. You made your way through the crowds towards the large kitchen with everyone looking at you three, feeling the attention on you but it quickly went away as the dj switched the music to 'jimmy crooks' by drake and 21 savage.

Faith assured you and Riri to join the dancing crowd while she got your drinks because she knew that this song was one of your favourites. As the rap music was slowly getting into afrobeats, you and Riri would get closer in the crowd with Faith eventually joining you two. 

You had felt eyes on you majority of the night but nothing malicious like. You hadn't taken the time to look for whoever is staring at you. The pair had shrugged off every other woman who wanted a chance with either one of them. Emerald and Shuri watched you dance with barely any alcohol in your system, taking in your beauty and zoning out from the party surrounding them.

This wouldn't exactly be the first time they would share someone. However there was just something about you that drew the two women to you without even knowing your name, with you they don't even want to mess with other people at that point.

Due to the beats of 'bad to me' by wizkid booming through the speakers, Shuri stood up from the couch and signaled to Emerald that she'll be back and hopefully with you. She danced her way through the crowd to stand near you and Riri. Faith and Riri were damn near falling over and were laughing all the way. They said to you that they're getting more drinks as the song started.

Now this was your song. You began dancing, not really caring if anyone joins you. The beats of the song were progressively getting slower and slower as the song transitioned to 22 by jayo. From hearing this song on social media, you knew to whine your waist to the beat as well to the lyrics. You felt a presence behind you, steadying your waist without touching you with them going with the flow of your waist.

The person’s scent radiated from their body, making you feel like you’re falling into a trance. You sneakily bring your hand behind you for the person to at least touch you. You placed their hand on you back and continued dancing. You hadn’t noticed the lingering stares of everyone around you, hyping you and this mysterious person behind you. You felt their hand grip on your waist, bringing your upper body towards theirs for your back to press against their chest.

They swiftly turned you around to face them and it was as if your breath had been taken away from your lungs. Looking into her dark eyes, you noticed them turn even darker under the red and white led lights. The beautiful stranger smirked at you, causing you to slightly clench your legs.

She removed her hand from your waist and replaced it with her hand, her other reaching up to hold your chin. Examining her face, it was as if it was sculpted into perfection. Seeing how your eyes were desperately trying to not make contact with hers, Shuri gave you a low smile whilst looking elsewhere, near the couches. You noticed gold peeking through and you realised that she was wearing grills on her bottom teeth, making her look even sexier than when you first saw her.

Keeping her head in the direction she was looking at, she pulled you with her, with you immediately noticing that people parted as she walked by them. Who the hell was she?

Flicking your hair behind you as you eventually reach the couches, you stopped and stared at what’s right in front of you. The second one of the duo was manspreading, staring at you as she blew out smoke in her mouth. She too had a little smirk on her face as she watched you get nervous.

Noticing her outfit which was a black tank top with what looked to be black oversized low rise jeans paired with Jordan 4’s. Her chains were dainty and small but the rings on her fingers made up for her jewellery. Her hair was curly and short, framing her face so beautifully.

Feeling your body being guided towards the other person by your waist, you stop right in front of her open legs and she took your hand, making you sit on her crotch. Holding you in place, her cold yet soft hands slid onto your waist. The one you had been dancing with looked you in the eyes this time from a higher angle now that you were sitting down.

Her outfit was simple yet so captivating to you. She wore a black Nike tech tracksuit with panda dunks. Her neck showcased a Cuban link with a shiny watch adorning her wrist and a Cartier love bracelet on the other. Her hair was curly up top with shaved sides. Her eyes stare into yours as your heartbeat increases.

You’re quite literally stuck in the middle of these two beautiful women. You could feel the second one sit up and place you nicely on her lap as she adjusts herself.

“Now tell me, ma. What’s your name?” She muttered into your ear with a beautiful accent, almost sounding southern.

“Y/n.” You stammered, barely keeping it together. Your body was eagerly calling for the both of them, not sure how long you were going to survive.

“Y/n…” The one in front of you repeats in such a sultry tone. Placing your hands on both legs of the other woman’s legs, you shift your body a little for comfort, causing her to groan behind you.

“What about you two? What are y’all’s names?” You asked, feeling the grip on your waist become a little tighter. “My name’s Shuri, mama.” Shuri began, diverting her eyes to the woman you’re sitting on.

“I’m Emerald and I’m sure it sounds amazing comin out you. Whatcha think, Shuri?” Em introduced herself then turning her head to Shuri.

Shuri could barely answer the question. She could see how introducing themselves had taken a toll on you. She could see every shiver move everytime Emerald moved her hands from your waist to your thighs. You were slowly becoming undone and they have barely touched you.

Your gaze hadn’t been on Shuri, seeing as you were staring at nothing as an attempt to calm you down. Her hand had reached for your face once again, making you look up at her in the eye.

“Mami, I want you to listen to me, aight?” You nodded. “Let’s go celebrate Valentine’s at my hotel, yeah? just the three of us.” She spoke and her grills were peaking through. It also didn’t help that Shuri’s hand let go of your jaw and landed on your thigh and Emerald was giving you subtle neck kisses.

You nod at a quick pace, almost giving yourself whiplash. “You wanna go tell your friends that you’ll see them later?” Emerald whispered to you as you nodded. Shuri helped you up, holding your hand as you guided her through the crowd looking for your friends.

You found them in the middle of the dance floor, eventually finding you through the crowd and saw you with someone. Faith gasped when she saw who you were standing with. Riri just cheered you on and you went back to Emerald who was waiting for you two.

“Now, let’s go show you how we wanna celebrate Valentine’s with you, mama.”

You walked in your dorm room limping and trying to hold all your luxury shopping bags. After a rather long night of the three of you pleasuring each other, Shuri and Emerald had promised to give you gifts for Valentine’s Day, seeing how they only courted you as the last hour of the day was coming to an end.

The two women had helped you carry the other bags into your dorm room, placing everything next to your bed. You give thank you kisses which then turned into a heavy make out session, leaving you with more hickies than last night.

Faith and Riri waltzed into your room, hoping you’d be awake or at least there for your daily coffee run. Finding you asleep with multiple hickies and shopping bags on the floor, the two looked at each other with looks that said “I told you so.”

“When is a good time to tell her that they’re succubi and that they’re bonded for life?” Faith asked as she looked at your sleeping figure.

“Girl what?” Riri reacted, giving Faith a raised eyebrow. “Yeah. They’re immortals.” She said as if it wasn’t a big deal.

“I was just being me and going through some old ass books about folklore and myths in the library. Obviously, shit like that is supposed to be fake but clearly not. Those two have been in newspapers and books from the 16th century. They got the same tattoo on their hip to prove it.”

“The fuck? And what about y/n? What’ll happen to her?” Riri asked, a concerned expression on her face.

“They’ll eventually turn her into one of them. They don’t seem like the bad ones so I think we’re good.” Faith nodded.

“So how old are they? They look near our age.”

“Probably in their 20s physically.” She said, not knowing that the two beautiful women had disappeared into the mirror, hearing Faith reveal their secret.

“Now what?! We don’t need her finding out now!” Emerald stressed. Shuri was trying to keep her cool and be calm. “It’s cool, we can erase their memories of this conversation and destroy that book. Anything to protect our princess.”

the supernatural wave for Shuri is so cool so i decided to join in. @generallysapphic inspired me with this because of vampire!shuri so thank you my love!

and thank you @vargskelegore for creating the wonder that is hbcu shuri! 🫶🏽

[thundergrace]

Don’t be offended..but white girls arent studs..nun against them #quickerpickerrapper #fyp #studsoftiktok #lesbiansoftiktok #foryou #fypシ 😬

She's right and she should say it. White girls aren't studs. White women aren't studs. (@lul_tbaby)

[the-so-called-finchel]

I'm tryna be better at writing Finn - what are your favourite Finn moments in the entire series that show his personality the best? Or just your favourite Finn moments in general.

I literally love all of his moments in the series. I'm kinda blurry with episodes titles especially when it comes to s3 and s4... but I'll try:

Pilot - this is a good episode that introduces us to Finn and his aspirations and some of his fears.

Showmance - continues to develop Finn and we see what he wants to be. He looks up to Rachel because she speaks her mind and isn't afraid to be who she is.

Aca-fellas - or the introduction to Sassy!Finn.

The Rhodes Not Taken - this is a very good Finchel episode in general, but it also shows us Finn going against his moral values to get what he thinks he wants. We do see that Finn holds himself to a different standard than he holds other people. Like if Rachel played him the way he did her, he wouldn't be happy or willing to forgive her as easily. But it's also the episode where he confirms he likes Rachel and wants to be with her.

Vitamin D - this is a very Finn-centric episode. We get to see a lot of his inner thoughts and his pressures and the way he views life. So this is very helpful to watch for the entire episode. Oh and we get to see whiny!Finn. I love him.

Mattress - we see Finn wanting to do the right thing by being in the picture but chickening out (ha!) because he's still worried about his image. He wants to be a leader, but he's not ready to put himself out there.

Sectionals - we get to see Finn fully step into his leader position in this episode. He's hurt by what Quinn (🤢) and Puck did to him, but in the end he puts all that aside because he has to be there for his team. Even though everyone on his team, except for Rachel, knew the truth but decided to lie to him. Tbh idk why Finn was friends with anyone but Rachel. They all sucked so much and were so horrible to him. But anyway, and we see Finn bringing his team together and saving them out of their slump. Like we really see that Finn is the leader of the club.

Hell-O - this shows Finn in a negative light but that is good too. He's kinda back to being concerned about his image and he's probably experiencing the high of winning Sectionals (we'll see douchey!Finn show up again in Silly Love Songs after another win too) so he thinks he's such a stud and that he can do so much better than just Rachel. And the important thing about Finn in this episode is him coming to the conclusion that he doesn't want to do better than just Rachel. That Rachel is actually way better than those bitchy popular girls and she's the one that he wants (😏).

Funk - because we see Finn just breaking the law because someone wronged Rachel (we see him doing this again in Feud in s4).

Journey to Regionals (or whatever it's called) - because he just tells Rachel that he loves her. He also has that conversation with her on the staircase that he needed her to be a leader with him for the club. That was a good talk.

Grilled Cheesus - we see Finn's innocent and naive side, which is very important to his character.

Rocky Horror Glee Show - because we see Finn dealing with his body image issues and that's not something we really get to see about male characters. And we do get Rachel telling him that he doesn't have to be super fit or muscular to be attractive and that's important.

Christmas S2 episode - this is peak whiny!Finn!! It's such a painful episode for Finchel, but Finn went full Mariah in this episode and it's great. Like Rachel decorated the auditorium to look like a winter wonderland and Finn was like "I only like real Christmas trees!" I died xD he actually expected her to drag in real trees for him. He's too funny. Finn was like "if she doesn't kill an entire forest for you, is it even love?" Oh and him looking at Rach longingly at the end of the episode and smiling.

Silly Love Songs - we see Finn as a hot mess in this episode. Douchey!Finn is back after he won the game and he does all the wrong things this episode and acts like a tool, which I used to hate, but it's actually very hilarious and a good side to his character because he is a teenager after all. I also like the scene with him and Rachel at the nurse office because you can see that he still loves her the most but he's just a self-destructive dumbass. Him and Santana shared one brain cell that episode and they couldn't decide which one of them should keep it during the episode. So they were both terrible with decisions.

Born This Way - because we see Finn be all about Rachel. So the episode actually feels good for once. He's all about making her feel good about herself and he just shouts it to the entire choir room that Rachel is beautiful, like a king. Just best moment!

Prom Queen - this and Laryngitis (which I didn't mentioned, but it also has very good Finn moments) are peak jealous!Finn. He always gets jealous when Rachel moves on and that's when he wants her the most. I do love him fighting Jesse (🤢) at prom because how dare he dance with Finn's girl? He did it for all of us when he told Jesse to back off. Oh also he's super sassy to Jesse earlier in the dinner scene.

Funeral - because of the F*inn (🤢) break up. Him going off on Q was everything tbh. Like that bitch was losing it insisting they stay together. It was good to hear him admit that he loves Rachel and that he's connected to her in a way he isn't with anyone else. It was finally him making sense of all his feelings and admitting to himself that he doesn't want some breathy, unfeeling, popular girl, but he wants Rachel and no one else. And I'm very happy that he stuck with this decision up until the end of the series.

New York - this is peak simp!Finn. He does everything in this episode to get Rachel back and I love that about him. We've seen him be all about Rachel before, but in this episode it's turned to 11. He's such a Chad for kissing her at the end of Pretending (that he wrote for them). He invented romance in that moment. And then him getting so excited about the kiss afterwards and saying it's the Superman of kisses and it came with its own cape. I love him too much. No other relationship was as iconic. Omg and him asking Rach out in the library at the end. Omg!!! 😍😍😍😍 that was such a Chad move. This is the Chad!Finn episode!

Purple Piano Project - I might be wrong about this, but I think Finn has a monologue in this one where he talks about his future or something. It's really good.

First Time - because we see Finn's insecurities about the future and him at his lowest when he's not selected by Cooter. I also like how he acts with Rachel when she tries to get him to have sex with her. He is the one saying they should wait and that he wants it to be perfect. Plus I like him forgetting that she's vegetarian/vegan whatever (which she is not because she ate pepperoni pizza in S1E5).

Mash-Off - I love this episode so much. And I love the whole fight between Finn and Santana and how they both bring up their own insecurities in order to tear down the other. We also get to see leader!Finn shine through again and sassy!Finn. He's not just Santana's punching bag anymore. He actually retaliates by telling her "You're scared Brittany won't love you back" which destroys Santana because she is scared of that. But Finn is also scared that Rachel won't love him back, that he won't be enough for her. And it's interesting to see him blurt that out and throw Santana's biggest fear (of Britt not loving her back) at her after she hit him with his biggest fear (of not being able to provide for Rachel and having to ride her coattails for the rest of his life). Also I love Finn and Santana's "are you thinking what I'm thinking?" "Yep. Dodgeball!" Idk how they both thought the same thing. I guess they sliced that brain cell in two and they each got a half for this episode.

Yes/No - Finn's proposal to Rachel is everything. I love it so much and he's so sensitive and romantic in that scene.

Saturday Night Glee-ver - this is a very good Finn-centric episode. We once again see Finn unsure about his future, but realizing that the only thing he's certain about is that he wants to be with Rachel. We rarely see male characters on TV wanting to be husbands as their life aspiration, but that's what Finn wants to be. She's the only thing about his life that makes sense and the only thing in his life that makes him happy so he wants to dedicate himself to her. It's perfect.

Heart - Finn and Rachel's fight is everything. And what's even better is how fast they make up after it. It really shows a lot of maturity on both their parts. It shows how much Finn has grown and how serious he is about Rachel this time around, like we've never seen this side of Finn in s1 or s2 (except the finale of s2)

S4 episode - idk which one it is, but Finn outsmarts Sue and records her saying something to blackmail her so she backs off the Glee club. I loved that a lot. It showed cunning!Finn.

I Do - Finn's speech to Rachel is everything in this episode. He's so sure about them being together. It's just so good. Especially his whole "she loves me, she loves me not" routine in the speech too. S4 gave us some really mature Finn moments about his relationship with Rachel. But also some very immature moments, which were honestly ooc af. But his endgame speech to her was amazing and it really shows that she's still his main priority.

Feud - simply because I love Finn beating the crap out of Brody (🤢). Like idk why Donkey Face even tried swinging at Finn. Finn was like twice his size and used to be in the army after being a quarterback in high school. Sooo like idk just bad decisions on his part. But it did give us the hottest scene on TV. Finn was so hot when he said "stay away from my future wife!" Go off King! 👏

With all that being said, you could get away with understanding Finn by just watching all of S1. Because he kinda goes through his entire arc but not in a very in depth way in that season alone. We see him dealing with thinking he's not enough, to being ashamed of being in Glee, wanting to be more than what it is expected of him, wanting Rachel, wanting to be popular again, realizing that popularity isn't what he wants and that he just wants to be happy with Rachel in the end, finally admitting that he wants Rachel and ending up being happy with her. The other seasons are basically them going in depth on what S1 already presented.

[tweetracer]

Meeting the lost boys by knocking into one of their bikES 👀👌🏻

OP WHAT’S IT LIKE HAVING THE BIGGEST BRAIN IN THE WORLD (also this is my sECOND TIME WRITING THIS CAUSE MY COMPUTER CRASHED W/O SAVING SO SORRY IF IT’S GARBO)

LOST BOYS x S/O WHO RAN INTO THEIR BIKES

DAVID

Okay you already had one drink too many and fuck that was a cool looking bike. You were new to the area so people’s quiet comments of ‘that’s a bad idea’ went right over your head. You were just gonna look nobody can get pissed at you for looking.

Of course looking had turned to touching.

You ran your fingers across the smooth leather of the handles, admiring how well maintained it was despite clearly being frequently used.

“Can I help you?”

“FUCK HOLY SHI-“ you fell forwards at the voice that came from behind you, stumbling and watching as the bike fell in slow motion towards the ground.

You closed your eyes, wincing when you heard the SNAP! of the side view mirror as it landed, crumpled, beneath the vehicle.

The sound of a frustrated sigh made you turn slowly- and suddenly you felt a lot more sober as you looked up into the sharp blue eyes of a blonde man standing with his arms crossed and his gaze narrowed.

He looked ready to scream before you tossed your hands up- stumbling through your words as you offered to pay. You patted yourself down hurriedly desperate to find your wallet when it hit you.

Fuck you left it at your apartment.

Explaining the situation you offered to go get the money and bring it back to him, assuring you were good for your word.

“Forgive me sweetheart but I’m not exactly keen on trusting someone who just broke my mirror off”

You winced and nodded understandingly before inviting him to come along so he knew you wouldn’t bail and his eyebrows rose up.

Oh

He’d seen enough pornos to know exactly where this was headed ;)

Never opposed to a good time he agreed, following you in the short walk to your apartment with such confidence it was hard to tell who was leading who. He introduced himself as David as the two of you walked- actually starting a pretty good rapport despite the rocky introduction. 

As you finally made your way to the front of your apartment David straightened himself, stomach curling with anticipation as he readied himself for the coy little song and dance before you got to really repay him for the damages.

Confident, he took a step forwards before- THUD

He ran face first into your door. Reeling for a moment before he realized that you just closed the fucking door on him what the-

Before David could voice his confusions and frustration it swung open again, and there you were- standing before him with wallet in hand as you paged through some bills.

He glowered, upset that he had misread the cues of the situation and gave you an incredibly low-balled estimate. Frowning as you handed the cash over you wished him a goodnight and shut the door again.

Grumbling, it wasn’t until he was headed towards the stairwell to leave that he heard the sound of the creaky wood opening up.

You poked your head out, flushed and grinning before asking if he was free for dinner tomorrow night with a smug smile.

You little tease

PAUL

This was a stupid idea. You knew this was a stupid idea- but you swore to god if your friends teased you one more time for skipping on this bet you were going to lose it.

It was simple. Sit on one one of Santa Carla’s resident bad boys’ bikes and live to tell the tale and they pay your rent for a month. Easy... peasy...

You glanced over your shoulder, already feeling sweat start to form on your brow as you watched your friends gathered around the railing of the boardwalk- giving you thumbs up and egging you on.

Taking a deep breath you snuck across the beach side- having checked one, two, three times that none of those wannabe-gangsters were coming before finally sidling up to the line.

You picked one at random, taking a moment as you tried to figure out how to get up and into the seat without jostling it. Finally, you managed to straddle the seat, you were surprised just how soft the cushion felt against your legs as you looked across the beach at your companions.

They were waving their hands and mouthing something frantically- you squinted, leaning forwards and trying to get a better idea of what they were trying to tell you.

“I think they’re tryna warn you about me, doll”

“FUCK!”

You scrambled to get off the bike, stumbling and falling face-first into the sand. With all the blood rushing to your ears you couldn’t hear the stranger’s laughter as the bike tipped over, the air getting pushed out of your lungs as it landed across your back.

The stranger, a tall blonde guy decked out in full leather and studs, was doubled over with laughter- grabbing his stomach as tears formed in the corners of his eyes as he watched you flail uselessly underneath the motorcycle.

“Dude you look like a squashed roach” he choked, managing to get a hold of himself- his laughter tapering off into tiny giggles, leaning his hands on his knees to look down at you with a wild grin.

Finally, he deigned to help, using one hand to lift the bike up like it weighed nothing. Once freed you groaned, back aching from where you would no doubt be sporting a gnarly bruise tomorrow.

Before you got the chance to get up you felt two strong arms wrap around you, lifting you into the air with a dramatic twirl- your hands flying to his shoulders on instinct.

The biker held you up for a moment “If you wanted a ride all you had to do was ask, gorgeous”

Red all the way to your ears you mumbled a small thank you as he gently set you on wobbly knees, keeping a wide-palmed hand on your hip to steady you.

“I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth but if you’d like to explain what you were doing straddling my bike I’m all ears.” he purred, hand giving you a flirtatious squeeze as you recounted the bet- nodding to your group of friends who were frozen like deer in the headlights.

The stranger, Paul, made a humming noise in the back of his throat as he thought over your excuse before leaning in close to your ear.

“Well we can’t let them win then, can we, doll?” and with that he let go to swing a long leg over his bike, offering you a calloused hand and a wink.

Okay... maybe this was a good bet after all.

DWAYNE

It was late, you were exhausted, and your feet ached from standing up all afternoon and evening at your closing shift of Stoker’s Diner. Still dressed in your uniform you stumbled, yawning as you picked your way across the boardwalk.

Your eyes kept drifting closed- the moments between when you were awake and practically sleepwalking getting longer and longer as you followed the familiar route.

When you opened your eyes and you were staring up at the distant white light of stars you realize oh shit when did I fall.

Then you realized the sharp stabbing pain in your leg, hissing as you curled up, abs tensing as you saw the heavy bike on top of your shin. “Fuckin’ shit” you growled, grabbing your thigh in an attempt to pull yourself free.

The sudden weight was lifted and you looked up at broad shoulders and dark hair that framed a handsome face. You must have died, because this face was that of an angel’s.

“Am I dead?” you asked groggily, sleep-addled brain making your tongue a little looser as the stranger smiled. He held out his hand to you politely, waiting with a raised brow.

Your hand felt tiny in his as he gently lifted you onto your legs only for you to teeter over precariously at the sharp pain in your knee. Glancing down you saw bloody torn skin and a purple bruise beginning to bloom across your shin.

The man’s shoulders tensed slightly at the sight of a droplet blood trailing its way down your leg. Exhausted, you let yourself be manhandled into the seat.

“Here” his voice was a low rumble that made even your tired mind spark up eagerly.

God he was hot.

The biker lifted you up like a sack of feathers, setting you in the seat of the bike so your legs dangled above the ground. The man kneeled down, reaching into his pocket and rifling around in it for a few seconds before pulling out a band aid.

You stuttered out a thank you, feeling you face heat up as he glanced up at you from beneath thick lashes- a pleasant smile gracing his herculean features.

“You should be careful.” he spoke, fastening the adhesive to it with a gentle pat. You coughed shyly, unable to make eye contact as you quietly explained that you had a long shift and you were opening tomorrow again while your fingers played with the hem of your shirt.

The stranger listened silently, eyes soft as he focused- occasionally nodding his understanding. His hand was still on the back of you calf- fingers cold and sending goosebumps all the way up your spine.

When you finally finished he stood, looming over you as he introduced himself as Dwayne before hesitating- thinking something over..

“If you want... I can drive you home... probably safer than sleepwalking off the boardwalk again”

MARKO

When you told that guy to back off from your friend you did not think it would end with you running at top speed through the crowds of the boardwalk. The guy’s yelling seemed to get closer and closer as you jumped over a table- switching directions suddenly in an attempt to throw him off.

Your eyes darted around as you searched for a way out- landing on the railing off the edge of the boardwalk that led to the beach side parking. If you played your cards right you might be able to hitch a ride or at the very least lose him by hiding.

With a fell swoop you tossed your legs over the edge, falling a few stomach-churning feet before you touched the ground, skinning your knees as you took off again. Your assailant cursed, running down the stairs and getting left further behind.

Looking over your shoulder to track his progress you didn’t see the motorcycle in front of you.

In fact

You didn’t see the line of motorcycles in front of you.

And you sure as hell didn’t see the blonde boy decked out in a leather jacket milling about.

It wasn’t until you laid, cheek pressed against his chest and bike flat beneath your shins that you even realized what your collision was with. Gloved hands gripped your hips tightly and the two of you stared, confused at each other before you heard the footsteps getting closer.

“Shit shit shit- CAN YOU DRIVE THIS THING?” you were already sitting up, straddling his hips for a moment before pulling him to his feet.

He only stared, lips slightly parted and brown eyes wide before he nodded numbly- gaze unable to leave your face as you turned to see your attacker get close.

“HURRY-”

That seemed to kick him into gear as he glanced over your shoulder at the drunken surfer gaining ground towards the two of you. In a fluid motion he lifted the bike up and turned it on, the revving engine drowning out the chaos around you.

Without waiting for an invite you hopped on, gripping tight to his jacket as he peeled away from the line of the other bikes and taking off at a breakneck speed.

Your eyes squeezed shut as the wind whipped your hair around you- heart still pounding in your chest from adrenaline as you pressed your face into the stranger’s back with a sigh of blessed relief. 

Long after the danger was far behind the two of you were still speeding along- running others out of your path and sidling closer towards the shore.

Your eyes closed and you relaxed a little bit, hands loosening their grip where it had been balled up in his jacket. His shoulders tensed and he leaned forwards, the motorcycle suddenly speeding up so fast there were tears in your eyes.

With an excited laugh that was whipped away by the wind you flung your arms around his chest, squeezing tight- his pleased smile and small blush invisible to you as he veered a sharp turn to make you hold onto him closer.

After what could’ve been hours or minutes of heart pounding excitement, the blonde boy finally slowed- eventually stopping the bike and parking it far away from the loud boardwalk.

His hair was a mess and the apples of his cheeks were pink with adrenaline and you got a good look at his face properly this time.

Oh he was cute.

He smiled, looking almost bashful

“I’m Marko, and uh- I had fun being your getaway driver.”

[almondmilkcleanser]

CHAPTER 73

From my story Do It For The Bag on Wattpad!

One line turned to two, two into three, three into.. Six, I think? To be real I lost count.

Jamie and I laid in the bed passing the blunt and giggling between eachother recounting all the years we been friends and all the fights with petty ass bitches that we went through solo and as a tag team. We walked down memory lane from our elementary school days, to middle school when Jamie was letting the Art teacher look up under her skirt for an extra grade.

I remember that year, too. She had just got her period over the summer and her titties was coming in quicker than the police in white neighborhoods. Of course, that shit meant that she wasn't fitting in her regular clothes no more and so her clothes was getting tighter and she had this little crush on the Art teacher we both had but for separate classes.

I think his name was Devon. Real clean cut dude who you could tell was just outta the teaching program and starting his first job. He had to be no more than what? 21, 22? No more than 23 years old.

Chocolate skin, mocha-brown eyes and the thickest, fullest eyebrows and lases with hair in a fresh low boy with the waves up top and rocked a little stud earring in his right ear.  I don't know how my school let the shit slide but he was the only teacher at Charles Drew that had gold fangs at the top and that drove all the students and teachers with the auntie booties wild.

She would tell me how she would stay after class to help refill the paint and all that shit, planting little seeds and shit. She made a bet with me that she wasn't going to wear no panties for a whole week and she was going to have Mr. Devon look up under her skirt. I'd be lying if I didn't say she didn't do it, and I'd be lying if I didn't say hot pocket ass Jamie didn't catch Devon looking and she didn't give him head right there by the art theory books.

That happened on a Friday, Devon resigned that following Monday.

"Yo," Jamie teased, taking a long pull of her blunt before laughing aloud, "Remember that day you lost your virginity to Skooby? Man, bitch you was wild! Ain't nobody tell you to let that nigga pop your cherry behind the fucking portables and shit!"

"Bitch, fuck you," I rolled my eyes at the memory like it happened yesterday. My pussy was so sore and I had to make it to 6 period like nothing had happened. Skooby was down to wait till after school but I remembered my mama was always home sleep since she was trying to stick with methadone and I just didn't want to fuck him at his mama house knowing she don't have a consistent schedule either.

So I said fuck it, lets do it during 5th period. I skipped class and so did he and he popped my cherry right behind Portable C with the fire ants. I never was so miserable walking home as I was that day.

"Listennnnn, you coulda came by my house and got fucked if that's all you was tryna do, you know my auntie don't be here." chimed Jamie.

"Tsk," I sat up in the bed, rubbed my nose a few times before taking two more lines. There was a continuous ringing in my ears and I felt like I could do a public speaking event in front of 100 muhfuckas. I felt fucking invincible, sexy, confident, and just ready to take on the fucking world.

My pussy needed to be rocked and I couldn't even tell you why, but thinking of that nigga Blu behind me rocking my shit in and out, pulling on my waist the way Cut didn't that just had me-

Nah, Ana, you big tripping.

I silently scolded myself, burying the thought in the back of my head. My body jumped up from the bed before my mind could even catch up and another thought  popped in my head.

Cut is here still. With Chyna, Ramirez and Rich.

I licked my lips, thirsty, "Jamie, lets go find Cut."

"What you mean, find him? Girl you know how big this hotel is?"

"Just my point. Cut here with the same dude who tried to kill one of his homeboy workers. What if he tryna kill Cut now? What if he tryna stop Cut grind and then I gotta end up with that nigga and be fucking him?"

"Ana, what you talking about?" Jamie ain't move an inch as she sprawled her body across the bed. She had her hand in her shirt just cupping her titty and counting the light streaks she saw on the roof.

"Just come!" I smoothed my hair down, digging in my duffle for my hair brush. My nose felt like it was running but every time I went to wipe, it wasn't shit there. I decided to opt for going into the bathroom and checking my face before walking around these people hotel.

My hair was laid back down and I splashed my face with cold water. That didn't stop my heart from racing or the constant thirst from coming back but I had to thug the shit out. I made my bed so imma decorate it with my favorite linen.

"Alright Jamie, lets go."

"Where exactly we going, though?"

"Nowhere specific, we just going to walk around."

Jamie mumbled something under her breath as she stood to her feet. Slow as fuck at that.

It took her about 10 minutes to put on her clothes but we was out the room and walking around with nowhere really to go.

I could see our reflections in the adjacent hallways, freshly polished and streak-free like it wasn't even no children allowed in this hotel. The hallway that connected the elevator had a chandelier hanging from the ceiling and a diffuser that made that area smell like vanilla and lavender.

If you was quiet enough, you could even hear moonlight sonata playing over the speaker. The floor wasn't even carpet, my nigga, it was Marble. Fucking marble floors and floor to ceiling rooms.

This was the type of place an artsy hoe could flourish and catch the biggest nuts with her dude Romello or whatever artsy name a nigga would have.

Before Jamie and I hopped on another elevator, I stopped her and pulled her towards the stairs.

Her room was on the 8th floor and we took the elvator to the 7th floor. Before we could hop on the elevator again to hit the lobby, something told me take the stairs.

"Girl what you doing? I ain't tryna take no stairs all the way down to the lobby."

"We not going all the ay down to the lobby, just come with me to the stairs."

"Tsk- alright, girl." Jamie doubtfully replied.

We passed by one room, 710, and you could tell whatever the fuck was going on in there had to be lit. I mean you could smell the weed seeping through the crack under the door and music shaking the doorknob back and forth and shaking my brain back and forth.

My senses was on fucking ten and it was something in me telling me to stay on the floor. So we did. When we reached the fire escape stairs, I shushed Jamie and stood by the window to look down the hall for a few seconds, hoping to see Cut and Ramirez on this floor.

It was a wild shot, but what the fuck I had to lose?

The pool area was on the 7th floor so they couldn't have walked that far from where she seen them.

Jamie ain't say shit while we wasplaying detective, instead she sat at the edge of some steps and hummed a song that I don't even think she knew the beat to.

I don't know how long I was standing there, to be real, maybe 30 minutes or even an hour. But I saw a door open and out walked Rich and Cut smiling and holding they drinks in the air towards the direction of the door.

When the door closed, they're faces turned from jovial to serious and focused.

Thankfully, I had the fire escape doors cracked so I could eavesdrop or duck down if they was coming.

"Man, that nigga so fucking aggy. Even if we can't off this nigga, I don't want to do no more business with his ass. Like he banned from the club and all, my nigga."

"Yeah, I feel you." Cut agreed, counting a few hundreds before tucking it in his pocket.

"How long you think its going to take to go through this shit?"

"Shit," Rich dusted imaginary dust from his shirt and blew out a tuff of air. "If Chyna play the shit right he should be out in about-"

Before Rich could even finish his statement, Chyna opened the door in a crack, slid out and closed it shut. There were tears down her face and her clothes halfway off her body and she trembled holding her little bookbag in her hand.

"You good, ba-"

SLAP!

"Don't you ever in your fucking life make me do no shit like this again. The plan did Not Work, Rich! You think that nigga stupid? He didn't even try the coke I laid out. When I was getting ready to change he was talking shit about the both of y'all and Princess. Saying he shoulda fucked her in the ass when she laid there bleeding and I just- I just-"

"Oh- shit," Rich pushed Chyna out the way, peeking in the room before shutting it back quick.

"We gotta get the fuck outta here, NOW." Rich grabbed Chyna by the wrist and started practically running my direction.

"Ayo, what happened? Hold up!"

I ducked down out of sight as the sounds of their feet grew louder and louder, passing by the fire escape and down to their room at the end of the hall.

My fingers got sweaty as fuck gripping onto the cold metal handle. My throat was burning like I had just swallowed some acid or some shit and the hairs on the back of my neck stood all the way up.

Jamie was still in her own world high as a kite and vibing, scrolling on her phone oblivious to the commotion on the other end.

"Jamie!" I called out in a sharp whisper. "Jamie, come on lets go."

I peeked my head out into the hallway to make sure the coast was clear and when it was I made my way to room 710. Jamie came behind me with a worried expression, her eyebrows scrunched together and brow slightly covered in a damp sweat.

"Ana, what's going on?"

"Ion know, but we going to find out."

And without another second to spare in risk of the trio spotting us, I walked right in to the room.

If it wasn't the sight of the blood staining the ivory carpet and splatters littered across the angels' faces on the painting the mimicked the sistine chapel, the smell of potent weed surely would have taken someone out.

I saw Ramirez on the couch facing away from us, lifeless. He didn't even budge when we walked inside and the air was deathly still. Jamie didn't want to move but I had to see for myself. At the projects you be numb to this kinda shit but its still that buildup knowing that someone just might be dead that stuck with you.

Before I stepped on the carpet, I wrapped my shoes in some garbage bags so it wouldn't leave no footprints and proceeded to face Ramirez.

He had his mustard colored shirt open and same blue denin jeans on. I ain't even notice how hairy this man was till I saw him laying there, dick out the slit of his jeans and legs wide open. He had on some all black burberry shades that covered his eyes but I saw he was stabbed in multiple places across his body from his stomach to the sides where his kidneys were.

He was still, lifeless, but still bleeding out.

I couldn't do shit but vomit right there on the carpet.

My head was spinning and as much as I wanted to grab onto something I couldn't leave shit at the scene.

I just snatched the garbage bags off my feet, grabbed Jamie by her wrist and ran out the room and up the fire escape back to our room.

Chyna had killed Ramirez and it looked anything but an accident. That was rage.

[whumpiary]

continued directly from the last section of this post. the lead-up post is vignettey, so you can skip straight to the last section for context especially as majority of the warnings in the post do not apply for that section.

[content warnings: heevily referenced drugs and drugging, referenced past abuse, panic attack, mild dissociation, brief emeto mention]

-

He wakes up in Lou's bed. He knows it's Lou's bed because despite the chokers and studded boots, her bedroom is all bohemian patterns and peach tones and the doona cover is too. He doesn't move yet. He doesn't have it in him to bear it. 

It's a horrible, horrible feeling, drifting away in complete terror and walking up full to the brim of nothing but numbing calm.

It would be disorientating - should be - but honestly he's done this so many times that it feels like a well rehearsed play. His mouth is dry. His muscles ache. If he sits up to fast the dizziness will come crashing in. The headache won't fade until halfway through tomorrow. 

What he isn't expecting, when he rolls over to face the window, is Lou in the cane chair in the corner, curled up like a cat with her head on her knee. 

He doesn't say anything.

For a long while neither does she.

It's a long frozen minute, falling through space. 

"Hey," she says, not raising her head. He doesn't say anything.

Slowly, she uncurls herself until she's sitting, feet on the floor. Her bedroom looks nothing like her but suits her all the same. Crushed bright colors, too many pillows, a collection of knick-knacks too artsy to be accidental. Evidence that she has a soft side beneath the resting bitch face. 

Pity that side was twisted too. 

"You awake this time, or…?" she trails off, tilts her head to the side as she looks at him. She's got this soft worried look on her face like it matters to her what he thinks of her. Like it matters to her what he's feeling. 

"Did I do something earlier?" he asks. It happened sometimes, with sleeping pills. Or powders. Whatever they'd given him. Sleeping, sure, but sleep talking too. Walking, even. He'd heard stories of people driving all the way to work and clocking in before someone clued they weren't conscious. Full on sleep fucks.

"Sorta," Lou shrugs "Just lay there like that and then went back to sleep."

Silence again. She's watching him so carefully he feels like he might shatter. 

"Josiah made some pasta," she says, trying for light. It doesn't reach her eyes. He registers kind of apathetically that it looks like she's been crying "I don't know if it's any good but-"

“Not hungry.”

“I can get you some water?”

"You must think I'm fucking stupid."

Lou bites down on her tongue, lips twisted with the way it's shoved between her molars. She rubs her thumb across her temple. Sighs. "Yeah, that’s... fair."

He keeps watching her, like a tiger watching its keeper, and she keeps trying to pretend it isn’t making her nervous. She plays with the rolled hem of her shirt, inspects her nails like she’s considering biting them, smooths the edges of the blanket over the arm of the chair. And Cass just watches.

There’s a bird outside singing out without reprieve. Only it isn’t singing. Not really. It's a shrill sorta shriek. Like it’s screaming and screaming and screaming.

“I really am sorry, Cass,” she whispers, low enough that he wonders if she's hoping he won’t hear it. Cass revels in the fire that burns in his chest as she says it. It’s the stoking of violence and hatred and the worst kind of vindication.

Cass doesn’t say anything. He watches. 

He wonders when she took her makeup off. If it’d been last night — or whenever it was he’d been awake last — or if she’d done it just before coming in. A way of making her look more vulnerable. More open.

Look like the innocent flower etcetera, et-fucking-cetera.

“Cass, love. About last-”

“Where’s Josiah?” he says, trying very hard to make it seem like it’s just a question and not a way of counting bullets. She looks at him, almost scoffs just under breath. He watches the inhale, the hold, the exhale. The careful choice of words.

“Um. Last night, any time Josiah came close, tried to touch you... You were um...” 

He can’t remember but he can imagine it. He can imagine the pendulum swinging between kicks and bared teeth or begging and pleading. Or maybe he just cried.

That’s the worst one. When he cries.

Lou shrugs, almost trying to wave it off. “We just thought maybe you needed some space.”

Cass considers that. That could mean he left the house. It could mean he’s still here, just the next room over. Depends how much they want to trust Cass won’t leave with just one person watching. Lou sucks in an audible breath in preparation to say something, and he raises his gaze to meet hers, despite himself.

“Look. Last night. Before you fell asleep. When you were, um…” she starts. Stops. Clears her throat. Tries again. Like a stalling car. “Like, when… you know when you weren’t...-”

“After you drugged me,” he says, voice cold and flat. “That’s what you’re tryna say, right?”

Her eyes flick up to meet his and for a second they’re so full of defensive anger and fury that he has to stop himself from flinching backwards. He tilts his head back in the pillows instead, silently dares her to feel righteous right now. But the look fades as quick as it had sparked, replaced by shame and guilt and sorry.

“Stop talking bullshit, Lou,” he says, hopes beyond hope that she’ll give him the small mercy of ignoring the tremor in his voice “Or just stop talking.”

She takes a deep breath, looking at the ceiling. Holds it. Releases slowly. 

“After we drugged you,” she says, sentences punctuated by the firm clenching of her jaw, “You kept coming in and out of it. You were…”

He turns away from her as she talks, lying flat on his back. His eyes trace the cornices of the ceiling. This is an old house. One of those good bones sort of places. He’s never really noticed before.

“You were scared. You were really scared.”

Yeah no shit, fuckwad.

“You kept saying things. Like the time you had the fever.”

He closes his eyes, waiting for impact.

“You mentioned… him again,” she says, voice tight and strained “Bergen.”

He can imagine the way her face looks. That pained, apologetic expression that’ll be pointed at the ground and not at him. Pity and heartbreak and baby, it’s okay, I’m so sorry, let me make it better. 

Fuck her.

The bird outside pipes up again. Screaming and screaming and screaming.

“Cass, we didn’t know,” she says eventually “I’m so sorry. We both are. We didn’t know.”

Cass snorts.

“Yeah, you did,” he says. He’s almost startled by how strong his voice sounds. Low and steady. Dryly amused. 

“Sorry?”

“You knew.”

He turns back to face her and that look on her face — sorry and lost and a little bit hurt — God, he wishes he could photograph it and keep it forever. 

“Cass,” she’s shaking her head just barely, deer in head lights, beside the headlights, looking at the roadkill. “I swear to God. I swear to you. Neither of us knew. If we had’ve known what Bergen did to you, if we knew how it was gonna affect you...  Look, we would’ve done it different. We would’ve.”

"Okay," he says, nodding like he's considering that. He takes his time sitting up, doesn’t try to hide the dizziness or the way he has to slam his eyes closed as the headache spikes.

“So… remind me, because frankly my memory of last night is a little muddled-" she flinches at that and it sends a thrill through him "-but at any point did you try just giving me the thing and asking me to take it?"

Lou scoffs and looks away, fingers fidgeting together restlessly between her knees.

"Answer me, Lou," he spits. You owe me that. "Did you even once just offer me the fucking pill?"

"No", she says. Low. Flat.

“Why not?” he says, heavy on the faux-ignorance. Like he’s just genuinely puzzled by a weird social phenomenon “Honestly, I’m curious. Why didn’t you just ask me to take it? Wouldn’t that’ve been easier? Could’ve saved the fucking teabag.”

Lou hisses an in-breath through her teeth and tilts her head up to the ceiling, violently blinking tears away that both of them would rather die than see fall right now. “Cass, come on.”

“No, I want you to answer me," he says, calm and low."I want you to think about it and actually fucking answer me.”

When she looks back at him, her face is schooled placid, though her breaths nearly give her away, jumping in little suppressed hiccups in her chest.

"Because you wouldn't have taken it," she says, matter-of-fact, eyebrows arching up in that way they do when she's getting defensive.

He shrugs, like he doesn't get it. “How do you know?”

“Because you’re weird about that stuff,” she says, she sounds almost annoyed that he’s making it spell it out so obviously. “You wouldn’t even eat dinner, you get weird about that stuff."

"Then you knew, didn't you?" he says. In the silence that follows, in the moments it takes for her eyes to close in shame, he can feel his heartbeat start to pick up, caught somewhere between his chest and his throat “You knew, one way or the other what doing that would mean to me. And you did it anyway.”

"Cass-"

"Whose idea was it?" he asks, no chance for another excuse to come pouring out of her "Who came up with the grand plan?"

"Me. I did" but she says it too fast. 

"Right, so Josiah, then," he scoffs. It would almost be easier if it was the other way around. Lou usually meant for the best but sometimes she took a misstep. But Josiah. Josiah's meant to be the one who knows. 

"Don't be angry at him," she says. Fuck her for making it a plea. "Please, Cass. We were just trying to help you, we were trying to keep you safe. We were scared"

"You were scared?"

For once he doesn’t give a shit that his eyes are burning just a little. Let her fucking see him cry. Let it hurt her. It’s all rage anyway. 

"Jesus Christ, you're right. How could I possibly stay mad at you. You were scared"

"We were scared, Cass. We were scared for you" she says, "You weren't eating. You weren't sleeping. You said no hospitals, we didn't want you to fucking die"

"Ah, so it was for my own good."

"Yes," she all but growls.  

Cass laughs. 

"So where's the line, huh?" he says, dangerous manic smile splitting his face "Would you lock me up for my own good? Send me away? Hurt me?"

She looks away, bites down on her bottom lip, leg bouncing double-time with fury and shame while her fingers grip the edge of the chair.

"You know he did that too?" he says, catching her eyes, watching it wound "He was always doing things for my own good. Hitting me, starving me, holding me down.”

“I’m not doing this, Cass,” she says, a mask of stoic indignation “I’m not letting you get a rise outta me just so you can prove some messed up point.”

“But you’d be so good at it, Lou,” he pushes “Maybe not some of it, but we all know you can land a hit, don’t we?”

She crosses her arms, but she’s still sitting forward on the chair, like her body’s poised to launch up at the slightest provocation.

“I’ve always kinda been waiting for it, you know? I knew you were always waiting to teach me a lesson. I just always thought it’d be with your fists not with some weak-ass pussy bullshit in the bottom of a tea cup.”

“Stop it.”

“It fucking kills you, doesn’t it? That you don’t have control over me any more. You would love for me to be back in a Facility lab, waiting for you to dole out piss-weak kindnesses like some fucking psychic Mother Teresa hypocrite.”

There are tears in her eyes as she shakes her head, speaks through her teeth, "That is not fair."

Another laugh. “You're right. It's not."

“Cass, you never told us-"

"I shouldn't have to!” and he fucking bellows it, humor gone, teeth bared like a beast. Lou flinches the best way a fighter knows how, back straight, eyes wide, hands reflexively jolting into fists for an attack that won’t come “I shouldn't have to tell you about every shitty fucking thing in my shitty fucking life to for you to know not to roofie me.”

His heart is hammering hard, too hard and too fast for what’s happening right now. He has the stupid, irrational thought that he’s gonna go to Penance for yelling like that. But that’s… that’s wrong. That’s old thoughts. Old tracks echoing out from the heaviness of his bones right now.

But knowing that doesn’t stop the way his breath picks up, it doesn’t stop the darkening edges of his vision as oxygen refuses to make it to his lungs. He fixes his eyes to the carpet, tries to steady himself on the mattress because he feels like he’s gonna fall, even sitting.

“Jesus, Lou,” he whispers, words barely squeezing out his throat and he’s sure it’s closing up “You, you drugged me. You fucking… you drugged…”

This can’t be real. This isn’t real. Any second the world’s gonna fall away and either he’ll wake up on the couch with his tea still steaming hot and untouched or he’ll wake up back in Christopher’s lap and everything, all of this, will have been some sick, sick nightmare twisting his heart in the worst possible way.

There’s no way this has happened. There’s no way that he managed to find people that he trusts and he loves and who he thought maybe loved him only to have them do this all over again.

His eyes fly around the room as his breathing mutates into something entirely of its own. He’s not even sure what he’s searching for, what he’s hoping to find. An exit, maybe, or a thing that makes sense. Something that will make this make sense or make it disappear or will prove to him that his life can’t be this fucked up. It can’t possibly be this fucked up.

“Cass-”

He sees Lou shifting forward and he stutters back, pushing sheets down to the foot of the bed with his feet in the rush to fly backwards, the twisted-metal headboard digging into his spine.

“Don’t,” he spits, but it's full of sorrow and fear and he hates that it sounds so weak “Don’t you dare.”

And she freezes. Mercifully. Settles back down in the chair, fingers twitching along the woven cane.

The panic attack – and that's what it is, isn't it? the numbed, rational part of his brain provides him that much – builds and builds, uselessly.

Fear that can’t go anywhere. Adrenaline coming in too late to save him. He interlocks his fingers behind his neck, arms squeezing either side of his head as he closes his eyes, toys curling up, body curling up like that could possibly protect him from what’s happening.

He feels like the terror is never gonna leave him, never gonna stop, he’s gonna be like this forever, body shutdown and mind splintering a hundred, a thousand, a million different ways while the world spins on and on around him. But then all at once, it starts running out, like a dying motor.

This is silly, darling boy.

Like somewhere in his head, he’s decided that’s enough time-wasting for now.

You’ve done this a thousand times, what’s the fuss for?

His breaths stutter and slow and level out into wheezes until he feels hollow and numb. When he opens his eyes, he’s still staring at peach paisley bed-sheets, and he’s equal parts relieved and horrified that none of it was a dream.

This is real.

This happened.

Just another layer of kinda fucked up.

"Where are my clothes?" he croaks out, after a few minutes of hollowed-out quiet. He feels water-logged drained dry at the same time "This isn't my shirt. Where's my stuff?"

"You threw up," Lou mutters, chair creaking beneath her as she shifts "You were hyperventilating and... You threw up. So we had to wash it. It's in the dryer, it’ll be done soon."

"Okay.”

The bird outside had changed its tune. Or maybe it's a whole different bird, he's never been great at picking between them. It keeps giving off a low trill, persistent and badgering. Like it has something to say. He misses the screaming.

"I need water,” he says, the dry husk to his voice a testament to the glass.

"’Course. I’ll go get you a glass"

The look he gives her withers the suggestion straight away, “No, you’ll help me to the fucking sink.”

“Cass, come on.”

“No, Lou,” he snaps. He’s almost startled by the fact he has more in him right now. “You ruined it. You get that, right? You fucking ruined it”

He keeps thinking it. All the cliches.

You ruined it. I trusted you. How could you? I could’ve been happy here. You were meant to be safe.

They all feel so stupid. He feels so fucking stupid.

"Yeah," Lou says, softly. Apologetically. Tears stuck in her throat. Bird changing its tune. Or maybe singing the same one. "I know.”

He swings his feet over the edge of the bed and manages to stand up by himself. But by the time he’s taken a step his legs are shaking so badly he doesn’t hesitate grabbing at Lou’s arm for stability, even at the desire to recoil at accepting the help, accepting he’s weak.

Her thumb runs a little circle along his fore-arm and his shoulder tenses up on that side but he doesn’t move to stop her or tell her any different. Too close to acknowledging he’s letting her touch him at all.

He wishes he didn’t know that he’ll forgive her by next week. He’ll forgive them both. Process, get over it, move on. He wants to hate them forever. It’d be so much easier to hate them forever.

He doesn't know why it hurts so much this time. He doesn't know why he feels not just angry but so, so sad. He doesn't know why and also he does and it's the knowing that hurts. 

By the time they’re in the hallway, Cass is crying freely, silently, the only sound the tiny hissing shudder of his breaths as they get caught on the grief in his throat.

“Love...”

Lou reaches up for his face and he pulls back. Not so much a flinch as it is a gentle turn of his face. A pleading for space.

“Don’t,” he says, a little hiccuping sob following the word “Please just don’t.”

She pulls her hand away and readjusts her grip on his arm. She lets him lead, awkward as it is with her arm holding the balance.

He lets the tears slide down his face. He’s too tired to stop them. Too scared. Too fucking sad.

And it’s horrible. The worst.

It’s always the worst. When he cries.

[thehomierobbstark]

Smile For Me Daddy II

A/N:  Okay, coming at you with part two of Smile For Me Daddy!! @ Anon who requested this, I hope this is encompasses what you were asking for! This part took a much softer turn than I expected, so if you’re not satisfied or was hoping for something else, feel free to hit my inbox!! Tags are coming! They’ll be on a separate post. 

Warnings: At the bottom 👇🏿👇🏿👇🏿.

This is for all my lil cute ass black gorditas out there rockin back fat, belly rolls and thick ass thighs that touch!!  x Reader is always gon be black, chubby, and sassy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Why are you being so shy? You act like I haven’t seen it all before.”  Y/N snickers from her spot on the black couch, legs dangling over the edge and her back against the seat, her hand running comfortingly over the pelt beside her head.

Erik was currently in the bathroom adjoining the studio, getting ready for his photo shoot. He’d initially protested heavily against the idea, refusing to be half naked by himself in the “cold ass fuckin studio,” but when she posed the question of who else she could get to do it on such short notice, he grumbly stomped into the restroom with no further argument.

After about 10 minutes he finally emerges, wearing one of the Terry Cloth robes she’d put in there for him with the matching slippers on, and beard freshly lined up using his razor she’d stolen from the apartment a few weeks ago.  He’d been complaining nonstop about how unkempt his face was starting to look, but Y/N absolutely loved it, selfishly enjoying the feel of it when he rubbed his face across her skin.

She could tell by the way he was standing that he was a little out of his element, and she hops up from the couch, immediately switching over into her photographer role.

“Okay, take a few breaths baby, relax your mind a little. You look good! You’re about to kill this shoot right now, I’m mad I didn’t think about this sooner.”

He kisses his teeth, not believing a word that comes of out her mouth.

“I’m mad you really got me out here doing this shit.  I look mad dumb right now babe.  I don’t know if I can do this.  You not bout to post these pictures around your studio, are you?”  He was starting to ramble and waver a little, so she grabs his hand and leads him over to the couch, pushing him down to sit.

“Hey,” she whispers, climbing into his lap to straddle him.  “Stop worrying, okay?”

She strokes her hands up and down his arms in an attempt to soothe him, kissing him around his face.

“You look fine Erik.  I promise.”  She lets her kisses trail down his neck, focusing on the spot he liked, and his hands move to caress her big thighs around him as he lets out a satisfied sigh.

She can feel the tension leaving his body as she comforts him, and she continues with her pep talk.

“Shit… you look more than just fine… you look edible as fuck right now.”  She pulls at the tied belt around his waist and the robe loosens, bringing her hands up to slide the garment off his shoulders and pepper more kisses there.

“You look so sexy daddy.  Don’t you want to look sexy for me?”

She looks at him with her big brown doe eyes, and all he can do is give a soft grunt in response.

“I promise nobody will see the photos. Just you and me.  For our eyes only.”

He looks up at her, eyes searching between hers for any signs of deception.

“You not bout to play me like you did at Thanksgiving in 2017, are you?” He narrows his eyes, and she covers her mouth to muffle her laugh, playfully hitting him on the shoulder.

“Aye! You said you weren’t gonna bring that up anymore,” she reminds him, and he grunts a low yeah, whatever.  

“I’m just tryna make sure you don’t do me dirty again,” She rolls her eyes at that.

“Boy hush.  Ain’t nobody bout to do you dirty. I am a pro-fes-sion-AL thank you very much.  Now, take off your robe and go stand over there so I can oil you up, ZADDY.”  She gets off his lap, sniggering and pointing to the “oiling station” where all the baby oil was.

He groans and rolls his eyes deep into the back of his head, getting up and shaking off his robe onto the couch.  Bending down he growls viciously into Y/N’s ear, snapping his teeth at her neck and making her squeal before smacking her on the ass.

Only for Y/N would he go through such nonsense, just to see her smile.

Running his thumbs along the band of his boxer briefs, he stands by the table, reaching up and pulling his dreads free from the bun they were in atop his head and shaking them loose.

Y/N goes into the bathroom to grab a towel, taking her camera from around her neck and placing it off to the side.

Coming back and grabbing a bottle of oil, she squirts some into her palms, rubbing the slick liquid between her hands and warming up the product.  Stepping up to him she observes the studded keloids that cover his broad chest that spread over to his arms, all the way down to his wrists and down his stomach just below his hip bones.

“Okay, you ready?” she asks him, trying to gauge his nerves since they were once again moving forward in the process.

“Girl, if you don’t get to oiling me down and stop playing so we can be done with this!”

He complains, and she slaps him on the stomach with a sickening *splat*, stinging him a little.

“Mean ass,” she mutters, but she rubs at the spot to soothe away the sting.

Incorporating her other hand, she works the product around his torso, taking her time to evenly coat it everywhere and cover every inch of his keloids.  She squirts some more product on her hands and continues, moving around him as she makes her way to his back.

Erik doesn’t provide any more commentary as he watches his girl, eyes focused on her concentrated face and the movement of her hands.  It felt so nice the way she was loving all over him, even if she didn’t necessarily mean to at the moment, and every brush and stroke of her fingers was done with care and precision.

When she gets to his shoulders she makes him kneel down, which he uses as the perfect opportunity to hug himself around her waist and lay his head on her stomach.

“Erik, cut it out! You’re gonna get oil all over my clothes,” she whines at him, flicking him on the ear.

He flicks her back on the butt, shrugging his shoulders.

“So, take them off.  I’ll do you next,” A sly smile parts his lips and she snorts.

“That ain’t how this works, nigga.  You not slick.”

“Yeah, and it bednot work like that either.  You not gone be doing this for everybody, are you?”

“No, Erik,” she laughs, tapping him on the shoulder to stand again.  “They’ll be doing it themselves, in the bathroom.  I only did it for you because I’m 90% sure you don’t know how to do it right.” She jokes, and his face deadpans at her, making her giggle some more.

“And cuz you my mans,” she adds, giving him a cheesy smile and angling her face up at him.

“Yeah, dat’s right,” he leans down, placing a kiss on her lips.  

“Cuz I’m ya mans,” he murmurs against her lips, smooching her goofily for a few seconds before she finally pushes him away.

Taking the towel, she pats at his body to take away any excess oil, careful to keep enough shine for it to be subtle but still appear on camera.

She instructs Erik to get started by laying on the bed, telling him to pick a comfortable position while she goes to wash her hands.

Toeing off his slippers, he pads over to the bed and lays directly across it on his stomach, hearing the bathroom door close and the water run.

After about ten seconds, he moves, this time laying with his back against the pillows and facing forward.  

A few more moments pass and he grows dissatisfied with that position as well, and he shuffles around some more, this time ending up with a pillow in his lap while he sits cross legged in the middle of the bed.

Not even two more seconds pass before he throws his head back and groans at the ceiling, tossing the pillow behind him and getting up altogether.

Y/N had only been gone a few minutes, but the more time he spent alone, the more his mind filled with incessant thoughts about the shoot.

This was ridiculous.  There was no reason he should be so anxious, they were just pictures.

With the way his nerves were getting to him, he felt as if he was reliving the time he and Y/N were about to have sex for the first time, when he was so nervous he couldn’t stop pacing back and forth and picking the petals off the roses he’d bought for her.

Running his fingers through his dreads, he decides to just tell Y/N that he’s too nervous to go through with it when the bathroom door opens and she steps out.

Starting at her feet, an intricate floral design on black colored lace stretches up over her calves and past her knees, stopping midway at her thighs.  From there, two black bands on each side connect the thigh high stockings to the black garter belt she was wearing, the red g-string she wore peeking out from underneath.

Covering her full C-cups was a cherry red lace bralette that stretched thinly across her mounds, the delicate band under the cups stopping a couple inches above her belly button.  To top off the sexy ensemble, flowing effortlessly around her as she walked was a black silk robe with decorative Cherry Blossoms on the back, with branches crawling up the sleeves.

She looked delectable.

The way the red lighting bounced off her chocolate skin as she moved gave a sensual shift to the room, making Erik swallow thickly.

He was speechless as her soft foot steps carried her over to where he was, stopping to grab her camera and place it back around her neck along the way.

His mouth was hanging open, racing mind completely wiped clean as he looked down at his gorgeous baby girl standing in front of him.

She always knew just how to put his mind at ease.

*Snap*

The shutters of the camera blink as she snaps a quick picture of Erik’s awe inspired face, making a mental note to print an 8x10 to frame for her desk after they were finished.

His eyes were so lasered in on her cleavage, he almost missed the small twitch of her lips making her smirk a little.

“Like what you see?” She angles an eyebrow up at him, running her index fingers under the straps of her bra, pulling lightly and letting them snap back against her skin, the sound piercing in the otherwise silent room.

Erik doesn’t even bother with an answer before he bends down and scoops her up, grabbing her behind the knees as he lifts her to his chest, hooking her legs around him.

Her off guard shriek is cut off as his lips latch onto hers, muffling her little protests as he backs up until the edge of the bed hits the back of his knees, and he sits down on the bed with her in his lap.

Laying back, he wraps a hand around her neck to pull her down with him when she stops him with a hand on his chest.

“Wait Erik, slow down,” she pants trying to catch her breath, her hair wild around her face from the sudden intensity.

He cuts off her words again with pecking kisses to her lips, leaning up on his elbow as his full lips cover her mouth and quiet her.

With a hand to her back he flips them over, pushing her knees up and apart on either side of his waist and sinking his body down in between her legs.

He moves his face into the crook of her neck, his skillful tongue snaking out to lick and swirl all over the skin there, reaching up to push her camera out of the way and onto the bed.

She starts whining and grinding herself up against his stomach, feeling the bumpy texture of his skin rake against her barely clothed center, and he grinds with her, moving in sync with her movements.

She tosses her head back with a frustrated grunt, her nails digging into his shoulders and feeling his teeth sink into her neck.

An unfiltered moan escapes her mouth, and her breathing deepens as she falls further into the hungry lust Erik is pulling her into.

Feeling her arousal climb, he switches up their position and flips them back over again, lying back on the bed while she straddles his waist. His fingers reach for the flimsy material between her legs but she pushes his eager hand away.

“Nuh-uh, stop it you fiend.” She laughs, trying to catch her breath and fend off Erik’s wandering hands.

“We’re not here for that. You sposed to be posing for my photoshoot.” She reminds him, and he kisses his teeth, rolling his eyes as he blows out a frustrated breath.

“You forreal right now babe?  How you expect me not to be all over you when you walk out the bathroom looking like a whole meal?” He asks her, fingering her robe and pulling it open a little to stare at her gorgeous frame again.

Snickering, she snatches the material away from him, covering herself back up and tying it closed. She knew the affect she had on him.

“I wore this so I could help make you feel more comfortable.  Don’t think I didn’t hear your worrying ass while I was in the bathroom.”  Reaching over to grab her camera again, she puts it back around her neck, hoping it doesn’t get taken off again for at least the next hour and a half.

He tries and fails to come up with an excuse before letting his head fall back against the bed, closing his eyes and taking a deep sigh, looking off to the side.  Y/N sensed a serious shift in the mood, and she tucks some stray curls behind her ears before smoothing her hands over Erik’s chest.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”  Her voice drops down to a whisper, and her nails scratch softly over his keloids right at his favorite spot.  He turns his face back to her, grabbing her waist with one hand and lightly tracing his thumb along her tummy.

“I think I’m… a little nervous.  I mean, what if I look stupid babe? I don’t wanna ruin your idea just because I can’t deliver like you want me to.”  There was a touch of sadness in his eyes accompanied by something else she recognized, although he rarely showed it. Fear.

Getting off his lap, she lays on the bed, turning on her side to face him. Reaching up to brush a few dreads out of his eyes, she takes his face in her hand, turning him so he can look at her.

“You could never look stupid baby. Not to me. And especially not with this.”  He holds her gaze, mind working overtime to try and convince himself to believe her words. It may have been just a photo shoot, but to him, it was deeper than that. He was so vulnerable when it came to her, and he was afraid that one day she’d figure out that he would never be enough. That he didn’t fit in her world. Even if it was something as simple as taking pictures.

Her brows wrinkled at the uncertainty lining his face, annoyance scratching at the back of her brain at whatever, or whoever, had led him to believe that he had to second guess himself when it came to what they had.  As if he hadn’t been one of the best things to happen to her, a fact his actions reminded her of every single day.

Sitting up on her elbow, she leans forward and places a kiss on his lips, letting herself linger there as she enjoyed the sensuality of it.  She’d been so busy lately they hadn’t had the time to enjoy the simplicity of each others presence, and it showed in Erik’s hesitancy.  If he needed to be reminded of just how strong her feelings were for him, she had no problem letting him know.

Pulling back, she rests her head on his chest, him having laid back down flat on his back.  The lines of worry that were previously decorating his face had dissolved back into the smooth brown skin, a sated look replacing it.  The kiss had worked.

“You know I love you, right?”  She peeks up at the curve of his jawline, enjoying the view she had of the curly black hair peppering his chin as her fingers played in it. His lips twitched into a smile as he opens his mouth to answer.

“Yes, I know.”

“But you also know that I’m in love with you, right?”

She felt his chest tighten underneath her with the breath he held, not expecting her words.  She lets him take a moment to digest it, watching as he licks his lips and swallows.  

After a few beats, his breathing returns to normal, and he tilts his neck up to look down at her.

“Forreal?”

She smiles.  “Yes, I am.  Unconditionally.”  She lets her finger trace along the outline of his jaw, up to the lobe of his ear, massaging it soothingly between the pads of her fingers.  “I’ve never felt what I feel with you with any other person. It scares me sometimes, knowing just how powerless I am about my feelings when it comes to you.”  A twitch overcomes her soft smile, and she bites her lip, burying her head in his tummy to hide her face from him.

He feels a small leak of wetness touch his navel, and he gently lifts her face, pulling her up to him and cradling her, chin resting atop her head and her chin tucked into his neck. He rubs at her back with large circles, stopping every few moments to give her a tight squeeze, wanting her to feel safe.

She gives a small sniffle, reaching up to wipe at the bottom of her nose.

“Hey,” he bends his neck down, pushing her curls back from her face and wiping away a droplet beneath her eye with his thumb.

“Why the tears, huh?  Tell me.”  He whispers his soft command at her.  He kisses the top of her head, giving her time to steady her breath and clear her throat.

“I’m just….so happy.”  She looks up at him and places her warm palm at his cheek, an emotional smile on her lips.

“You make me feel really happy.  And safe.  And loved.”  As she continues talking the tears return, pricking at the corner of her eyes and she rushes to continue.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been loved the way you love me.  It’s the realest thing I’ve ever felt, and it scares me. Cuz I don’t wanna lose you.”  Tears fall and stream her face, but she wipes them away quickly as she grips Erik behind the neck, pulling herself closer to him.

“And I don’t want you to think I’ll ever want to.  Erik, you’re everything I could’ve ever asked for and so much more. Please never doubt that.”

He blinked, pupils wide and mouth a little open in shock as he stares down at her.  She did it.  He didn’t know how, but she managed to read him perfectly, saying all the right things at just the right time.  Squashing all the anxiety and fear he felt just a moment ago.  

And then he remembered the studio rooms.  The portraits hung delicately and intricately along every wall, the decor picked out just right for each room to help tell a story without using any words.  

Behind her camera or not, she had the ability see into people.  It’s why she was so amazing at what she did.

Erik feels a wave of emotion come over him as he looks into her eyes, and his heart swells at the feel of her wrapped in his arms.  He leans forward, closing his eyes and angling his face to press a slow sweet kiss to her lips, holding her face in his hands and savoring the moment.  He lets his tongue peek into her mouth playfully a few times, licking at her top lips before fully engulfing himself in the kiss.

They both get lost in each other, gripping and pulling at one another as they try to get as close as possible.  Y/N winds up on top of him, straddling his legs and grinding her hips into him as she kisses him feverishly.  He holds her waist with one arm, his other hand roaming over her body, stopping to squeeze at her breasts.

Suddenly he pulls his mouth away, stilling her hips.

“Wait,” he stops her.

She pauses, her breathing still heavy from kissing him.

Cupping her face in his hands, he strokes both of her cheeks with his thumbs, leaning up to press his forehead to hers.

“I’m in love with you, too. You know that, right?”

A bright smile spreads her lips, and she bites her lip, nodding.

“I know.”

He returns her grin, pressing another kiss to her lips.

“Good.  Now get ya sexy little ass up and grab your camera.  These pictures not gonna take themselves.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Warnings: Softboi! Erik, Fluff, Anxiousness

[amelatonin]

Wine and Dine

Pairing Trevante Rhodes x black reader

Warning fluff, one mention of peen

Summary Tre wants to cook for you

A/N My first public fic 😯I had been working on this on and off for a while, but I almost scrapped it today after reading Take Our Time Part 2. @supersizemeplz Girl, I promise I didn’t steal lol The similarities made me uneasy but I guess this is the way to a woman’s heart. Anywayz, I felt like this blog was unintentionally becoming a Florian fan blog so I decided to start with a fic starring my baby Tre. 

Be sure to tell me how bad it is! Constructive criticism requested. Enjoy!

***

- you tryna get fed? -

If you had no filter you would probably type something along the lines of ‘yep. Fed some dick 🙃’ But you were still trying to win over the guy you were dating. So, to be more ladylike you went with:

- who says no to food!? when and where? -

- tonight. my place. You can even come grocery shopping with me now if you’re free -

You raised an eyebrow. Food was one of the things that brought you two together. You met through a mutual friend at a birthday dinner some months back, but only recently became romantic. There were plenty of conversations about your favorite dishes and some dates to dope local restaurants, but grocery shopping and getting cooked for? That was next level, wasn’t it?

- oh you’re trying to cook for me? 👀-

- precisely -

The proposition was a pleasant surprise that made you smile. You weren’t expecting to see him so soon considering you had just went on a date the previous Friday to the art museum. However, you did notice that your interactions were becoming more frequent. The art museum date had you on a high all week, you two had talked everyday since. You would be lying if you said that wasn’t exactly what you wanted. All you thought about was spending more time with him, though you didn’t want to be the first to admit it. You sent your reply:

- I’m listening… What’s on the menu? 🤔-

- you’ll just have to come and see 😌-

- bet. -

A quick uber ride later and you were meeting Trevante in the produce section of a local grocery store. It wasn’t as busy as you expected but it was 5 on a Friday evening after all. He lit up when he saw you, “Hello gorgeous,” he greeted you with a warm hug that lingered a tad longer than usual, not that you were complaining.

“Hey!” It was nice that he was as excited to see you as you were to see him. He hadn’t changed since leaving work an hour prior and he looked delectable in the business casual he wore to the office. The button down and slim fit slacks fit him perfectly. It had been your day off and even though you looked good, you wondered if your knee length t-shirt dress and white canvas shoes were too much of an under dress. What else could he expect from you with 30 minutes notice? He was going to have to take what he got; the dress complimented your curves and he was lucky you even fluffed your curls, filled in your eyebrows, and put on your Fenty gloss.

You ran your mouth about your work week while he picked up items and placed them in the basket he was holding. You enjoyed talking to him so much you didn’t even realize you weren’t really paying attention or offering much help until the third or fourth stop.

“So, what are we eating?”

“Tuscan butter salmon.”

“Oh wow. That sounds delicious,” you only cooked like that when you were feeling fancy, “I don’t know if you can pull it off, Tre,” you teased.

“I can. I will. And you’ll be finding out tonight now, won’t you?” he looked you up and down and licked his lips. You swore you noticed his eyes linger on your hips. The look he gave aroused you slightly. How dare he ooze confidence and sex appeal so effortlessly. You had to shake off the thirst.

“I’ll believe it when I see it. Don’t disappoint me, Rhodes.”

"No need to worry,” he winked.

The last stop was the seafood counter for fresh salmon.

…

“Welcome back,” he said as he opened the door. You adored visiting his place. The 14th floor condo had huge picturesque windows that gave a breath taking view of the midtown skyline. The view was gorgeous now, but it would only get better when the sun began to set around dinner time. Right in front of the center window was his high top dining set. The overall interior design was exquisite- modern yet cozy. 

“Alright. Make yourself comfortable. I’m going to get started in there,” he set you up with a glass of wine, and the TV remote.

“So I don’t get to help you in the kitchen?”

He hesitated for a moment before confessing, “Really, I just wanted you to relax. I don’t want you to lift a finger, so no.” he laughed. You didn’t protest. You enjoyed the idea of him catering to you and decided to put on a movie. But, instead of focusing on the TV you explored. Each time you visited, you checked his massive collection for new records and books. Nothing new this time around.

You took a peek at him working in the kitchen. Facing away from you, he worked diligently at the stove. His shirt was slightly fitted allowing you to see some of the contours of his back muscles as he cooked. He was ripped with broad shoulders which made you want to climb him like a tree. Watching him cook for you wasn’t sedating your attraction to him at all. The scent of fresh garlic took over the open space encouraging you to watch the master at work up close. You asked him about the recipe: where he found it, how often he made, if he’d 'wined and dined’ any other women with it recently. You know, the essential questions.

He laughed, “No, actually. You’re the only woman I’ve tried to impress for minute now. And you’re the first to get 'wined and dined’ with this recipe,” he made sure to mock the way you said 'wined and dined’.

“Mhm. I feel special,” you leaned against the counter top as you watched him stir in his ingredients milling over his response.

“As you should,” he took a taste test of his sauce, “C’mere,” he took another spoon full to feed to you.

“Wow. That’s really good,“ legitimately impressed, you wondered if he had taken any cooking classes.

“Yeah, but it’s not there yet,” he bit his lip, wheels turning. He was focused on his craft and his diligence was sexy. You left him to search his spice rack for the missing piece and returned to the couch.

About 15 minutes later dinner was served.

“It smells amazing!” You said rushing to the dining table that was decorated with burning candles, flames mirroring the glow of the sunset.

“Tuscan Butter Salmon, with pasta and a side of tossed greens salad and homemade garlic bread,” he watched for your facial expression as he placed the plate in front of you. It looked amazing and your face said it all. “Dig in, dig in,” he motioned for you to hurry up while pouring more wine.

He sat back to watch you react to your first bite. Part of him wanted to make sure you actually enjoyed the food, but most of him wanted to take you all in. Even in your “everyday” high puff and some simple stud earrings he found you breathtaking. The subtle pink glow of your lips did something to his insides each time he looked at you. You froze, “Oh ma gawd, this salmon is so good. Literally the perfect texture. And this sauce? Out of this world! The fresh rosemary makes such a difference. Great choice pairing it with the pasta and the wine!”

"What did I tell you? I know what I’m doing.” He took his first bite and started to nod, he was proud of himself, “okay okay chef Rhodes doin the damn thing. I really out did myself.”

The food was so good there was barely any talking for the rest of the meal. You two stuffed your faces and managed to drop in a word or two about your weekend plans. You also tried to high jack his recipe.

He took his last bite, “Y/N, you’re not getting the recipe.” He looked at you as he shook his head with laughter.

You took a sip of wine, “Tre, stop being stingy. Why not?” you whined, giving your best pout.

He hesitated, “Because I need a reason to keep you coming back for more.”

Silence. You weren’t sure how to respond. There was something about the way he said what he said and the look he gave you when he said it that would’ve made your knees give out if you were standing. With or without elaborate meals, those eyes were enough to keep you coming back for more.

“Can I be honest with you?” he looked down at his hands. Your heart sank, you were not ready for him to tell you something ridiculous like he has an estranged wife or three baby mamas and five kids.

“Yeah?” you said with a raised eyebrow, getting up to take the dishes to the sink.

He  followed you with the rest of the dishes you couldn’t manage. “I’ve been thinking about seeing you everyday this week,” he put down the dishes and gently pulled you to face him. Tilting your chin up he said, “You’re gorgeous, intelligent, passionate, ambitious- I can’t get enough of you,” he took your face in his hands and planted his soft, full lips on yours.  He was just as passionate with his kissing as he was with his cooking. 

He gently pulled his lips away. You had to consciously make the effort to not say 'woah’ aloud. Instead you said, “I feel the same way. I’ve been thinking about you all week, too,” you beamed at him before biting your lip.

"I uh- I haven’t wanted to wine and dine anyone in a while and I want to be the only one doing it for you from now on,” he intentionally used your phrasing from earlier, “I want to make this official. I want you exclusively. Y/N, I want you to be my girl.” The words fell out his mouth. And though he meant everything he said, he still felt corny like a high school freshman asking his crush to go steady.

You placed his hands on your hips and pulled him in for another kiss, “that’s exactly what I wanted to hear tonight.”

[hennessystevens-udaku]

The Choking Game

KING JADE/KING HENNESSY/SUB!ERIK

Erik sat in the emerald green throne chair of Hennessy’s bedroom, feet propped up on her desk. He’d just finished his nightly workout, and his studded chest shined with sweat. The Gatorade Hennessy had waiting for him was gone in 2 big gulps, a sign that he’d pushed himself hard. She stared as his Adam's apple bobbed up and down like an egg caught in his throat. There was a small hole in the toe of his sock exposing his glossy toenail painted with clear polish done by Hennessy's hand. She chuckled softly to herself at the memory of the night he let her do it.

“What’s so funny, lil girl?”

“Oh nothing,” she lied with a smile.

“That typically means it's something.”

“Does it really?” she asked, still feigning ignorance. He pulled her onto his lap kissing her shoulder.

“Yes ma’am,” he answered in between soft kisses to her skin.

“Well maybe this time is different,” she replied between her mewls.

“Connerie,” was his response as he traded the soft kisses for slightly rougher nibbles to her skin.

“Waaaait,” she whined. “I thought I was supposed to be giving you a massage.”

“Massage me then, Princess. What oil you using?”

“Homie whipped up some homemade shea butter. It’ll leave you feeling softer than a baby’s ass, braille bumps and all,” she giggled. He replied with a rough smack to her ass.

“Keep talking shit ma,” he threatened, his Oakland twang creeping out a bit. Hennessy stood to retrieve the shea butter smoothing it into his skin with deliberate motions. He let his eyes fall closed, allowing himself to fully enjoy his wife’s strong yet gentle small hands as they relaxed the kinks in his weary bones. She used her knuckles to knead the skin of his shoulder blades and spine then used her finger tips to massage his neck and temples. When she was done, she fell back onto his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Daka,” she cooed as her fresh set of coffin nails found their way into his scalp.

“Princess?”

“I have a question.”

“And I may have an answer.” She smirked, letting a finger snake its way into his Cuban link chain.

“What would happen if I did this?” She slid out of his lap and turned to face him. She let her hand travel up his stomach to his sternum and finally to the chain that rested snuggly against his chest. He watched as she grabbed ahold and twisted so that it choked him ever so slightly. His eyes grew wide as he stared up at her, his top teeth sinking into his plump bottom lip. His grip tightened on her hips as she twisted the chain even more.

“I don’t think those were words, Daddy.” He hissed softly, his eyes darkening with lust as he stared up at her.

“Fuck Auré. You teasing me,” he moaned.

“How? I just asked a question that I’m still waiting patiently for the answer to,” she responded with a giggle, still maintaining her grip on his chain.

“Am I intruding?” Charlie called from the doorway of the bedroom.

“Daddy’s being mean. I asked him a simple question, but he’s ignoring me.”

“Well that’s rude of you, N’Jadaka. Answer the little nugget.” She entered the grand room and approached the duo, her observations clueing her in to what was happening. “Well isn't this something. Don't mind me.” She took a seat on the desk next to Erik's feet to watch.

He bit his lip again, knowing that there wouldn’t be an easy way out of this.

“It turns me on,” he moaned softly.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Hennessy asked, twisting the chain once more. Erik’s hips began involuntary jerking, slowly thrusting upward. His eyes bucked again, a silent plea for her to not make him repeat what he had just said, but he knew better. King Hennessy wasn’t one to go easy, especially when it came to the brattiest brat in The Kompound.

“Oh my,” Charlie grinned leaning forward to watch. He was forgetting himself. That massage must have truly worked wonders.

“Say it again, my love,” Hennessy coaxed with soft strokes to his cheeks.

“It turns me on,” he grunted through clenched teeth.

“Aww Daddy Brat has a choking kink,” Charlie teased and she ran the heel of her YSL pump up and down his inner thigh. “Why.. does it turn you on, N'Jadaka? You've neglected to share that part. Is it the feeling of her fingers pressing and twisting the cool chain so that it winds and tightens, squeezing your neck so tightly that you lose your breath? Is that it? Do you like the feeling of losing control? Knowing your very life is in the hands of one of the brats you discipline?”

“Fuck,” was all he could say in response as his dark eyes bounced between his wives.

“Is your neck phallic representation? Are you imagining how tightly that meat stick between your twitching thighs could be squeezed? By those soft, small hands nonetheless. So feminine. So powerful. Address her by her title, N'Jadaka.”

“Yes, King Jade.”

Charlie slid her heel to the seat of his pants and applied mild pressure. “Don't look at me. Look at her. What is her name?”

“K-King H-Hennessy,” he groaned. If there was some sort of euphoric purgatory between Earth and the Ancestral Plane, Erik was there.

“Tighter,” Charlie requested and Hennessy happily obliged, applying more pressure to her husband’s thick neck.

“This is what you do to us, N’Jadaka. You toy with our bodies and minds in whatever way you see fit until we’re putty in those stubby fingers of yours. How does it feel for the shoe to be on the other foot?”

If he were in the presence of anyone else, there was no way in hell Erik would be whimpering and moaning the way he was, but because this was a side of him that only his first, fourth, and seventh wife could bring out of him, he relished it.

“I love it,” he smiled.

“Words of a masochist,” Charlie said retracting her foot only to have Erik grab her by the calf, putting it back.

“I'd like to try something. May I,” Charlie asked Hennessy before she made a move. Standing from the desk, she pushed Erik's feet down to the floor and straddled his lap, grabbing the Cuban link chain from Hennessy and twisting it tightly causing his chin to raise.

“Hey Mikey, I think he likes it,” she teased scratching the fingernails of her free hand down his bumpy chest and down his stomach into the band of his briefs. She squeezed him there with equal tightness biting and tugging on his bottom lip before releasing all three at once and returning to her spot on the desk. Erik whined pitifully when she left his lap.

“That's all. You kids have fun. I'll watch,” she grinned staring Erik down. He was panting like a dog in heat. Well technically, he was a dog in heat. His hardened member throbbed in his pants while his wives taunted him. Hennessy regained possession of the Cuban, twisting it around her hand while whispering the filthiest things in his ear in French. Charlie watched with a smirk, recording the entire ordeal for research purposes. It was a solid look into the thoughts and inner workings of a known sadist moonlighting secretly as a masochist. This was a private piece of his identity and a face he never revealed to the world.. and now it was on camera in Charlie's gallery. She hummed chipperly.

“Judging by that growing wet spot in ya pants, I think you’ve got something to ask me, N’Jadaka,” Hennessy quipped as she released her hold on the necklace before tightening it again.

“M-May I cum King Hennessy?”

“Cum? Already? We’re just getting started, Daddy.”

“N'Jadaka. Have you ever been waterboarded?” Charlie noted Erik's thrown expression. “I'm thinking of creating our own version of that. Wouldn't it be better if you were smothered by vagina rather than a shirt? Drowned by Hennessy rather than water?” His expression changed to something a bit more excited. Hennessy’s eyes shined with mischief the more Charlie spoke.

“Whatchu tryna do, wifey?” the small princess questioned.

“I'm trying to see you smother our lovely husband with that dangerous cooch of yours, but don't remove the panties. Let him suffer. Henny smiled a devious smile as she hoisted herself onto her husband’s lap and then up to his face. She gripped his dreads with both hands as she guided his head between her legs, allowing the soft satin of her panties to caress his face.

“Gahdamn,” he groaned, his nails digging into the arms of the chair.

“No one gave you permission to speak, N’Jadaka. Smother him so he can't breathe let alone speak,” Charlie goaded admiring the view.

“Yes King Jade,” Henny obeyed, pushing their husband’s face deeper between her plump thighs. The feeling was unlike anything Henny had ever imagined. The soft satin coupled with the warmth of his skin and breath had her dripping, leaving slick snail-like trails along his cheeks.

“Permission to touch you, King?” Erik called out, his voice muffled by his wife’s vagina.

“Permission denied,” Hennessy moaned, causing Erik to whimper as his nails dug deeper into the arms of the chair.

“Ooh the Jaguar about to come out,” Charlie teased before giving further instructions.

“You’ve got 5 minutes to make her cum without using your hands and tongue. Get creative. I need to see this, I might learn something,” Charlie said zooming in on the footage. He blew his lips like a raspberry making a noise that sounded like a propeller. It seemed to work because Hennessy reacted. She rolled her hips, pushing his face even further between her legs. She was now using his nose as a clit stimulator and boy was it doing the trick.

“1 minute,” Charlie announced as she moved to get closer. She wanted to capture it all, right down to Hennessy’s love faces. The tiny princess’ body went into overdrive, jerking and spazzing until her release coated the seat of her panties and the tip of his nose.

“Do over. I can beat that time,” Erik pleaded, keeping his hands down.

“Not tonight, Daddy. I have other plans for us,” Hennessy murmured softly draping her arms around N'Jadaka's neck. Lovey dovey mode was back in effect.

“Welp, that's my cue. I have some online reading to do. I shall see you two in the morning.” Charlie stood and made her way to the door as Hennessy and Erik continued nibbling on each other's lips, caught up. The next round would occur behind closed doors.

————————

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[eerythingisshaka]

Will the Bell Ring? Pt. 4

[Erik Killmonger x Black OC]

Word Count 5.8k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Erik has a meeting one morning to discuss the upgrades he has planned for key components of the new model Boeing airplane that is set to begin manufacturing early the following year.  Erik stood at the sink in the master bathroom reciting lines to himself that he had prepared with notes on his phone.

“As you can see, the planes trajectory following take off can be more smoothly….more smoothly...smoother?  Uhh-- SHIT!”

Erik curses to himself as the blade angled in the wrong direction, cutting his jaw.

“You ok in there baby?”  Kimara calls out from the bedroom.  

Erik watches the blood begin to bubble and drip onto his shirt before he could get a tissue to catch it.  

“Fuck!  Yeah...I’m aight.”  Erik calls back.

Kimara is putting on an earring when she walks in to see him.  “Oh damn, Erik. You cut yourself today of all days?.” Kimara reaches for the tissue to survey the damage.  

“Ain’t it some shit?  I gotta be at the office in one hour and I fucking maim myself and stain my fucking shirt.”  

“Ohh, now stop.”  Kimara pats his chin as the blood begins to clot instead of run.  “At least now you have an excuse for the bald spot right around there.”

Erik pins her arms down giving her slight shake.  “What I tell you bout that?”

Kimara cracks up uncontrollably.  “HAHA! About what?!”

Erik stares her down sticking his chin in her face.  “Say it again, I dare you…”

Kimara bites her lips choking back her laughter.  “I meant to say...you look very handsome.”

“Uh huh.”  Erik says unconvinced but satisfied.

“So now the white men with toupees can swap Rogaine recommendations.”  Kimara adds swiftly.

“YOUGONNAADDTHATWHILEIGOTYOUSNATCHEDUP??!!!”  Erik barks at a cackling Kimara, tickling her neck and the sides of her torso mercilessly.

“OK! OK! You finna make me pee, STAHP!”  Kimara orders in between breaths.

Erik backs off eventually, checking his chin self consciously.  “You playing too much this morning. Since this your week for laundry, make sure you don’t forget the softener this time.  That shit smell good as hell to let it sit.”

Kimara goes over to the toilet to relieve herself, leaning on her knees as she regains her composure.  “Whatever. You got time to eat something before you go?”

Erik pulls off his shirt in all studded and scarred glory.  “Nah, I took too much time at the gym this morning, so Imma have to pick somethin up later on.”

Kimara flushes and goes to her sink rinsing her hands.  “Ok. Let me know when you get off, I wanna go out.”

Erik pulls out an new shirt from his closet to put on.  “Aight bet. You got a place in mind?”

Kimara thinks a moment.  “Not really, but I’ll look up some stuff we can come to a decision on.”

Erik shakes his head.  “Uh uh say less. I got you.  Lemme surprise you with somethin good for once, ok?  You got enough on your plate, imma fill it with something tasty, ok?”  

“Oh my God, you being corny, but I like it.  Thank you…” Kimara says sweetly with smile to match.  Erik pulls her to him for a kiss and a goodbye smack on her ass as he finished up and headed out for the day.

Erik’s meeting with the board went on practically without a hitch.  Erik was always more nervous during preparation than when it came down to performance.  His presentation ran according to his plan and all the old white men looking back at him seemed slightly above average in intrigue over what he had to say.  No one was ever too excited for the meetings unless lunch was included, which today it wasn’t. But by the end he got a round of applause and a series of questions that he answered effortlessly.  When the meeting was dismissed, the cordialities and congratulations were passed around to Erik which he took lukewarmly. He’d been doing this long enough to know that a handshake and a smile does not a deal make.

“Hey Erik, great presentation today son.  You really knocked it outta the park with this one.”  Edward Hawkins, the engineering department head and Erik’s boss, says to him.

Erik nods appreciatively.  “Sure thing. I looked as deep into it as I could and I’m pretty proud of the outcome.”  

Edward subconsciously brushes his comb-over over.  “Yeah, it shows, the details were amazing and your stats very appropriate.  I wouldn’t be surprised if I heard from Dave tomorrow morning with a deal to move forward with a couple things you proposed today.”

“I won’t hold my breath for news that quick, but drinks on you if that’s the case.”  Erik claps Edward on his back and goes to leave.

“Oh, Erik!  I did want to talk to you about something.  I was talking with some of the board members and we thought you might work better with a team, just one extra partner to kind of share the load.”

Erik puts his hands in his pockets walking slowly to Edward.  “Whatchu mean?”

Edward stutters.  “Well I-I mean it's a lot of research and money riding on what you do so to protect you and the company, we feel having a teammate with you would be beneficial!”

“Who you want me with?”  Erik asks curtly.

“Uh, Bryan actually.”  Edward says nervously.

Erik scoffs.  “Your son? The intern?”

Edward gets defensive quickly.  “Now hang on, he is an entry level employee now and he went to Brown, he has the mental capacity to keep up with you.  You think?”

“I don’t think so, nah.”  Erik adds.

Edward sighs.  “Well hell, Erik.  I don’t know what to tell you.  But this isn’t an if but a when situation so I just wanted to give you a heads up so you weren’t blindsided.”

“Cut the bullshit man and tell me what’s this really about.  I been handling mine, no problem. I thought y’all didn’t have the budget for hiring new people any damn way.”  Erik rebuttals. He knew the white folks around there complain most about money. Edward wasn’t gonna pull this over on him so fast.

“It’s not technically a hiring, just a promotion.”

“Ohhhh, that’s nice.  Well since I’m babysitting his ass, I expect a heavier drop in bank account, and that ain’t a promise, issa threat.”  Erik warns, walking towards the glass doors.

“Oh!  Erik, come on!  You’re expecting a helluva lot outta me here.”  Edward calls out.

“I know you good for it.  Make it happen.” Erik walks out leaving Edward to ponder his proposal.  

The meeting was the biggest portion of his day, and judging from his calendar, he is free the rest of the day.  Erik texts Kimara to see if she’d be down to go out still while he attempts to read her mind for a perfect evening ahead.  

In the meantime, Erik calls his cousin to pester.  “Aye T! The hell you doin nigga?”

T’Challa sighs deeply.  “Yes, N’Jadaka. How have you been?”

“Pretty good right now.  I got through with work early so I’m tryna get ready to go out.”

This elicits and even biggers sigh from T’Challa.  “N’Jadaka, there is no way I can go out with you again this week.  I doubt I would want to for the rest of the year to be honest.”

“Not with you, fuck you mean?  I’m talking about Kimara!” Erik says.

“Ohh, well then that is good.  You both are doing well?” T’Challa’s tone brightens suddenly at the relief of not getting blasted drunk in the club again.

Erik approaches his office, closing the door and the blinds.  “Yeah man, I tell you! These past few days have been so good man, we vibing for real.”

“That is great to hear!  She deserves some stress free days concerning all you have planned to do together.”

“Yeah, we haven’t heard back from my doc about the results yet so it’ll be any day.  But she hasn’t even brought up nothing bout it. No text reminders about ovulating and shit, no scheduled sex, just regular spontaneous freakin that-”

“Eh eh, N’Jadaka you are overdoing it again!”  T’Challa warns.

Erik scoffs putting his feet up on his desk.  “Shit my bad. I thought we were having a moment.”

“No your thoughts and desires were having a moment.  So on that note, and keep it clean, what do you and Kimara have planned to do tonight?”

“That’s the thing man.  I’m still tryna figure it out.  I’m bout to pull up some four and five star spots so she can get all cute and fancy for a nigga, you know?”  Erik powers up his computer to being his search.

“Doesn’t she usually Asian foods?”  T’Challa asks.

“Yeah, them beepbeebop meals and shit?  She loves the fuck outta all the side dishes they give with the meal.  More bang for the buck she says, but we ain’t been together….probably since we been married.”

“Bibimbap.  But good, there’s a Korean grill place that opened up downtown  you might want to try with her. I met with Nakia there recently and it was pretty good.”  

“Hold UP!  You and Nakia went out?  Nigga, details!” Erik says excitedly.

“I have asked you countless times to stop calling me that.  But yes we did, only to go over ideas about the outreach center .”

“Annnd?”  Erik asks.

“Erik…”  T’Challa mimicks Erik, but in a stern tone.

“Ooh, ok, you serious using my government name.  I see you. So are you still fucking that one girl from the club?”

“I’m hanging up.”  T’Challa says.

“Wait wait, you can’t talk to me about that either?”

“I don’t parade my conquests for everyone to hear about.”  

“Aha, so y’all still fucking.  Ok, well knowin your ass, she must be a serious situation now.  Especially if you ain’t giving Nakia the time of day.” Erik says matter-of-factly.

T’Challa hesitates before answering.  “We are considering things still, but it is an appropriate adult partnership.  Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Well at least you gettin something on the side while you waiting for scraps at Nakia’s door.  Listen, what’s the name of that Korean place?”

“Palmi, it is not an uptight place but she will enjoy the atmosphere and food, I’m sure.”

Erik types in the place by name and reads over the reviews.  “Cool, this should work. Thanks man.” Erik’s phone dings with a notification from Kimara confirming their night out.  

“Ok T, Imma let you go.  I got some time to pick some roses up or something to give her.”  Erik says getting ready to go.

“Get calla lilies instead.”  T’Challa offers.

Erik pauses.  “What? She likes them more?  I got her roses on Valentines, she liked them just fine.”

“Exactly, that was that manufactured holiday Americans love so much.  Lilies are sweeter, more elegant, sends a better message.”

Erik nods.  “Ok T, I might try that after all,  good looking out.”

Erik clicks off the phone call with T’Challa and makes his way home to get changed.  Kimara was still at the studio so he texts her to meet him at the Korean restaurant in an hour.  There is a florist up the street from his job that he stops by to get Kimara a bouquet of ten lilies with some eucalyptus leaves.

When he gets home, Erik takes his time washing the funk of white elitist off of his skin and slips into his real nigga attire for the day:  dark navy canvas jacket over his chocolate colored Henley with black distressed jeans and timbs. Erik spritz some cologne, just enough to make her lean into him to get a better whiff.  He refreshed his locs, banding them atop his head and giving himself a once over, feeling his excitement build as the time drew near. Erik wanted his lady to know she was appreciated and tonight would highlight that for them.

Pulling up to the restaurant, Erik saw her car was already in the parking lot, a soft glow through the tinted windows indicated she is sitting and waiting for him.  Erik gets out the car with flowers behind his back as he crouches, hopping over to the back end of the car. He glides toward her driver’s side window before knocking loudly against it, causing her to honk the horn in fright.  

“Dammit, Erik!”  Kimara shouts rolling down her window.

Erik leans into the window.  “Ma’am, there’s no loitering in the parking lot.  Spaces for patrons of the restaurant only.”

Kimara turns on the light in her car to check her makeup in her phone.  “Made me smudge my lips.”

“That’s gonna be a problem you have all night. Com’ere.”  Erik pesters Kimara who gives him a light smooch before reapplying.  

Erik opens her car door, helping her out of it.  “Babe, you ain’t had to fuck up the game like this!  I thought you was coming home from work, I know I ain’t let you out the house in this!”

Kimara wore some denim cut off shorts, making a dream out of her deep toned thighs with flesh colored platform sandals adorning her feet.  Her voluptuous frame stood out as her best accessory hugged by her ‘COCO Butter’ baby tee with a scoop neck that let her girls breathe a bit.  

Pulling back her wavy 18 inches back, Kimara shrugs.  “So what about it? A queen comes prepared for any meet and greet, understand me?”

Erik rubs his chin, not able to take his eyes off any part of her.  “That ain’t a fucking problem one bit baby. I just hope these shits don’t wilt from you showing them up tonight.”  Erik takes the bouquet from behind him, giving them to Kimara.

“Awww, Erik!  These are so gorgeous!  And…” She gives them a good sniff.  “MM! Good call on that eucalyptus. How did you know I love me some lilies?”

Erik takes her hand and leads her to the restaurant.  “I know what my lady like. That’s why we finna feed my Mara well so she can go to bed with a smile on her face, you hear me?”

Kimara giggles.  “Good cuz I’m starving too.”

A hostess greets the, warmly before setting them at a table and giving them menus.  Erik and Kimara look over the options.

“The pork belly is good for sure, but the marinated bulgogi never fails me either…” Kimara mutters, looking over their options.

“Get whatever you want Mara, you know this better than me.  If it’s meat, I’ll eat.” Erik professes.

Kimara calls over a waitress and asks for her two faves to order.  “And couple bottles of soju please.”

“What’s a soju?”

Kimara grins sneakily.  “Just a little something to warm us up, you know?”

“Ahh, ok.  Tryna take advantage of me.  I ain’t falling for it neither.”  Erik smirks.

Kimara puts a hand up to his face.  “Skrrrrt! In ya dreams!”

Erik takes her hand, kissing her knuckles.  “You right, woman of my dreams all day every day.”

Kimara rolls her eyes but can’t stop her smile.  “So damn corny. I guess all this good mood is cuz your presentation went well?”

Erik screws his face up.  “I can be happy to see you too!  But...a little bit of work shit too.  Mara, I KILLED that shit. Those whites didn’t phase me not one time.”

Kimara gives him a quick applause.  “How soon til you know what’ll stick for the roll out next year?”

“Ed made it seem like tomorrow, but realistically I’d give it the end of the week.”

The waitress brings out a tray of little dishes with appetizers for them to share and their bottles of soju with some glasses.  Erik and Kimara get their chopsticks ready.

“What’s that?”  Erik points to one of the dishes.

“That’s gamja jorim.  It’s like potatoes in soy sauce, really good!”  Kimara picks a cube of potato up, moaning at the first bite as she bounces in her seat.  

Erik tries it out but makes a face.  “It’s cold!”

“It’s supposed to be!”  Kimara says laughing at him.  Erik opens a bottle of soju and takes a swig.

“Yo!  You’re supposed to drink it like a shot!  You not tryna drive home??” Kimara exclaims.

Erik sets the bottle down, mulling over the flavor.  “That’s not bad, weak, but not bad.”

“It’s not weak, it’s just smooth.  Your taste buds so used to drinking gasoline, you don’t know good liquor.”

“Not too much on my taste, Miss Thing Thang.  I know what’s good, like some meat right now.”  Erik whines scoping the restaurant out like it was supposed to fall from the sky.

Kimara tastes a couple more of the other appetizers.  “Have some of the kimchi! It’s that red cabbage over there.”

Erik does so, to little fanfare.  “I said MEAT Mara!”

On cue, the waitress comes out with a cutting board and the raw meat laid out in two piles, and a side of three dipping sauces for each of them.  She runs some oil along the grill in front of them and places some meat on the hot plate, flipping them and plating some for them before wishing them luck and dismissing herself.

Erik sits there flabbergasted.  “Imma kills this nigga.”

Kimara places more meat on the griddle. “The pig and cow are already dead, bruh.”

“I mean T’Challa.  He recommended this place and he ain’t told me that we gotta cook shit ourselves.   That meat is $30 a pop! We coulda went to the store and ate at home!” Erik fumes, taking his bottle of soju up for another gulp.

Kimara thinks about this a moment.  “Well I think you’re crazy. I’m thanking T’Challa then when we get home, cuz I guess your imagination lives inside a Big Mac box.  Eat!”

Kimara shows Erik hot to lay the meat out and when to tell that it’s ready to take off and eat.  After a few pieces Erik is setting up the sliced meats himself and plating them for him and Kimara.

Kimara gives him a handclap of praise.  “That’s it! See, This the only time I’ve gotten you to cook for me.  Look at God.”

Erik hiccups.  “I cook for you before, lyin ass.”  Erik clinks a plate down before sloppily eating a piece of marinated beef like a spaghetti noodle.

Kimara takes a sip of soju from her glass.  “Oh shit. Erik, gatdammit! You drank too much?”

Erik sits up with a big smile.  “Never too much, never too much!”  he sings.

Kimara calls over the waitress.  “Now I’m gonna have to get up early and get you over here to come get your car.  Fucking…” She gives the waitress her credit card and starts to put on her coat.

Erik reaches for Kimara across the table.  “Baby….baby...babe….you know this meat was real good.”

Kimara swats his hand.  “Yeah, I told you it would be.”

“I know somethin that taste better though.”  Erik says before cackling out loud. “I can still eat baby, just SAY THE WORD!”

Kimara breathes a sigh of relief when she sees the waitress come back with her card.  

“Thanks for coming you guys!  Have a good night!”

“Thank you miss lady, we ‘preciate chu.”  Erik says. He looks over at Kimara writing.  “Aye! Don’t tip, she ain’t cooked shit.”

Kimara shushes him.   “Damn, Erik, shut up! This is a restaurant, she still served us!”  Kimara finishes writing out the ticket and her and Erik walk out the door to her car.  Erik leans back in the passenger seat until he is completely leveled out. “Come on, sit for daddy…”  Erik reaches over Kimara in the driver’s seat.

“Erik, I gotta drive, just go to sleep or something.”  Kimara says, backing out of the space.

“My wife got the fattest ass, fattest pussy, fattest titties.  Shit too good to let go to waste. That’s why I’m taking you home girl…”

“No, I’m taking you home.”  She corrects.

“...You my leftovers.  I’m eat that ass up later.”  Erik laughs to himself at his dinner puns.  

Erik sits his seat upright again after a while.  “Mara, I’m sorry.”

Kimara looks over at him.  “What’re you talking about?”

Erik leans on her shoulder.  “I wanna do right. I wanna be good to you.”

“Aww, you are baby!”

“But you deserve it all, putting up with my bullshit.”  Erik mutters.

“You just got a little drunk.  I’m not mad at you.”

“I ain’t talkin bout now.  I shouldn’t have left you.”

Kimara tenses up.

“Those last days were so good, but I wasn’t ready for good.  I didn’t want you cuz you made things nice. But I wasn’t a nice person yet.”  Erik says.

“Y-yes you were.  I knew you were, that’s why you came back.”

“I wanted to die.  T didn’t let me. If it wasn’t for your forgiveness I probably woulda…”  Erik slumps down in her lap.

“Watch it Erik!”  Kimara exclaims.

Erik twists his face to her stomach to kiss it.  “That’s why Imma make us a family. I don’t care what a doctor say, we finna have a cute ass baby.  I owe it to you.”

Kimara is silent for a while.  “You don’t OWE me a baby Erik.”

“I do, I do.  I’ll do whatever to get this done right.”  

“Erik, shut up, ok?”  Kimara says softly.

Nine Years Ago (Revisit)

Erik had been gone a month, and Kimara had no one she could talk to about it.  Her days working at the local community center to teach music to kids was her only escape from the day to day.  

“Ok Lala, from the top.  Caro mio ben, Credimi almen…”  Kimara sat at the piano going over the melody as her sophomore student Lala handled the lyrics.  She handled the Italian pronunciations expertly, however getting the traditional operatic tone was proving difficult..  

As Kimara played along a cramp in her stomach made her stop playing abruptly to clutch the source of the pain.  

“Ms. Walker?  Is something wrong?”  Lala asked with concern.

Kimara felt horrible all of a sudden as her condition progressed.  “No….well, not with you. I’ve got to stop this rehearsal early. Keep practicing on your own and I’ll see you next week.”  

Kimara made her way to her car, rooting through her purse for her phone but ran across the prescription pill bottle first.  Staring at the label with her name and instructions, she thinks what may have happened had she not gotten them. Could she have gone on without taking them?

Just then a wave of nausea hit her as she  opened her car door to kneel out and puke all over the asphalt.  The stinging in her throat from the force and volume of it all made her cough uncontrollably, stimulating her gag reflex even more.  Kimara gets back in the car, cursing herself for the predicament she has been put in. This was supposed to be the easier way, at this rate she may probably should’ve rethought things.

Sitting in silence for her body to settle down, Kimara’s phone rings, breaking her calm.  She finds it in her purse but sees it’s an unknown number.

“Hello?”  She asks gruffly, voice strained from vomiting.

“Yes, is this Kimara?”  The voice asks.

“Who is this?”  

“I am T’Challa, Erik’s cousin?  I don’t know if he ever mentioned me but-”

Kimara perks up at the name.  “You said you’re Erik’s family?  You’re from Africa?”

He sighs.  “So he hasn’t told you about me then.”

Kimara grows tense.  “Why hasn’t he? But first of all, why are you calling me?  Where’s Erik?”

“He is with me, in Wakanda, for a few weeks now.”

“What??  He actually made it there…”  Kimara’s voice trails off as she thinks of how Erik told her about the stories of his home, the lost family he was a part of, and claiming his part in it.  “I still don’t understand why I’m hearing from you though.”

“He wants to see you Kimara.  He wants to talk to you about things, make things right with you.”

Kimara let out a grave laugh.  “Ohhh, this is corny as fuck. He is sending his cousin, some foreign dude I ain’t met, to call and ask me to talk to him sounding like a scammer.  You tell his ass to bring himself back here on a plane to the States and maybe we will talk. How about that?”

“He can’t do that.”  T’Challa says.

“Like hell he can!  He got there, he can come back.  You calling me? Call him a plane ticket so he can bring his sorry ass back here and say shit to my face.  I ain’t crawling nowhere to him. He don’t know what he’s left me with!”

“Kimara, I’m sorry it’s coming out like this, but-”

“I said what I said, T’Challa!”  Kimara hangs up in his face. She was fuming as she started her engine and drove off to head home.  If Erik only knew….And he always did things like this: do her wrong, then beg to see her and act like nothing was wrong because ‘leave the past in the past’.  He smiles his way into her good graces and they’d be cuddled up with her favorite movie and snacks. But this wasn’t college anymore, they were grown now, and he left her vulnerable.  Kimara knew they were going to go somewhere this time but he didn’t treat her any different than the girls he ran through in his hoe years. But she was supposed to be different, he convinced her of that.  Not anymore, from this day forward.

Kimara pulled up to her place to see a man standing outside of it.  It was dark out so she really wasn’t sure who it was, but the deja vu was heavy within her.  She slowly stepped out her car and stayed behind it as she shut the door.

“Yeah?”  She asked cautiously.

The figure turned around to face her, giving her view of his face.  “Kimara, I know this is rude of me to insist, but I have to act on Erik’s behalf.  You have every right to be angry, but he needs you right now. I want to help you through that.”

Present Day

The trill of Erik’s phone going off wakes them both up as they take a lazy morning.  Kimara barely got a good night’s rest for Erik having gotten too drunk and staggering to bed noisily and sloppily, only then to snore ridiculously loud for almost the whole night.  Kimara smacked her pillow at him to stir him but soon as he hit REM sleep, he was Foghorn Leghorn in the sheets.

Kimara rounded off her pillow upside his head once more to get him to pick up his phone, this time Erik has gained more coordination to register his surroundings.  He picks up his phone without acknowledging the caller ID.

“Hello?’  Erik asks with a heavy tongue.

“Yes, Good morning Mr. Stevens.  This is Doctor Tracy from Jocelyn Elders Fertility Clinic.  How are you this morning?”

Erik sits up slowly.  “Oh hey, yeah, I think you should be telling me that, right?”

The doctor laughs.  “Sure, that’s fair. I would like to speak with you and your wife in person about the results, if you have time this afternoon?’

Erik lightly hits Kimara on her shoulder.  “Aye Mara, you got anything to do this afternoon?”

“I always got something Erik, why?”  Kimara mumbles.

“The doc wants to see us about my results, but I can schedule it later.”

Kimara shoots up with renewed energy.  “Shit! They wanna see us?” Erik nods, covering the mic part of his phone.  Kimara motions to him nodding as she gets up and heads to the bathroom.

“Uhh, yeah, this afternoon will work for us.”

At the doctor’s, they sit in a room waiting to be seen.  The doctor’s normal office seems as sterile and bland as an examination room with the smell of unidentified solutions and the overpowering whiteness of their surroundings, Kimara’s nerves are on the edge.

“What do you think they’re going to tell us?”  She asks.

Erik is leaning on his knees looking blank in his face.  “Whatchu mean?”

“I mean, hell, if it was good they would’ve just told us on the phone!  Did you fuck up your balls doing your duties overseas and you ain’t told me?”

“Hell nah!  Shit like that don’t happen.  Females swear guys gets kicked in the balls every other day or somethin.”  Erik retorts adjusting himself.

“Well it’s gotta be something.  Maybe your time in Africa you got mixed with some shit that didn’t agree with you and wound up making you sterile.”  

“Mara, you don’t know anything about Wakanda or vibranium so chill on that theory.”

“Then tell me something I don’t know Erik, cuz you’d be wasting both our time holding back.”  Kimara warns.

Erik peers over at her.  “The only thing getting wasted is my time and money sitting here cuz ain’t shit the fuck wrong with me.”

Kimara hated when Erik brought up how much he was doing for her by just showing up or dropping some cash on a situation.  She wasn’t with him for everything he could do for her, she was with him because she loved being with him, wanted the best for him, and she put in too many years with him to get that notion twisted.

Before she could really let him have it, the doctor walked in.

“Good Afternoon folks.  I’m glad you were able to make it on such short notice.”  Dr. Tracy greeted them both with a smile and a handshake.

“No problem!  We’ve been waiting on these for a little bit so no way would we miss this.”  Kimara says, looking over at Erik with a smile, who looked bored with it all.

“Yeah, so whatchu got for us doc?”  Erik says scratching his beard noisily.

Dr. Tracy nods.  “Of course, so I won’t delay it any further.  Erik after reviewing your sample, we found nothing abnormal with your sperm count, their mobility, or make up.  You seem perfectly capable of being able to conceive a child with your wife.”

A moment of silence washed over the both of them as they looked wordlessly at one another.

“Soooo, I’m fine?  Chamber loaded, no blanks?”  

“Erik!”  Kimara chides him.

Dr. Tracy chuckles.  “It’s ok, I’ve heard all the euphemisms.  But you are correct. They are...clear for takeoff!”

“Then why are we not pregnant yet?”  Kimara asks in a hollow tone.

“Well, there’s a multitude of scenarios that can contribute to it but what we know right now is that Erik’s sperm is prime for conception and your uterus is beautiful for harboring a baby, just an example of good genetic make up.  I would want to be reborn again from you if I had the chance!” Dr. Tracy adds.

Erik grips the bridge of his nose in frustration.  “So what do you recommend we do from here?”

“Well honestly I would say to just keep having your regular routine.  If you want to keep track of ovulation that’s fine but honestly I wouldn’t put too much pressure on it until it’s been a year of trying.  I know they taught us in school it only takes one time, but as we get older and just leaving it up to God, it sometimes takes just that one good day after many for it to happen.”

“Ok.  I got the answer I needed.  Are we done here?” Kimara says, getting up before she could answer.  

“Yes.  Like I said folks, this is good news.  It means this can still happen naturally and cheaply.”  Dr. Tracy says with a slight chuckle that drops to a tight smile when she reads their expressions.  

As Erik and Kimara get in her car, Erik starts.  “We need a new doctor.”

“What?”  Kimara asks with contempt.

Erik taps on his window nervously looking outside.  “This one don’t know what she talking bout clearly. How she finna joke about this?”

“I mean, she wasn’t laughing at us, she was trying to make us feel better.”  Kimara says.

“Nah, she don’t need defending.  She need to give us some real solutions instead of a punchline.  This ain’t a night at the Apollo, or is she taking us as a joke cuz we Black?”

“Erik, she gave us good news, right?  Are you gonna take any piece of that positivity and just be happy with it?  I don’t know why you’re being mean with her.”

Erik scoffs.  “Trust me this ain’t mean.  I’m just being real. You know these doctors give less of  a fuck for us then they do white patients. She would been giving us fertility referrals and brochures and clinics out her ass if we were white.  But with us it’s ‘well just keep fucking like you niggers always do’.”

“ERIK! Shut the fuck up!  I don’t know what the hell has gotten into you, but you don’t have a damn place to be this upset right now.”  Kimara yells, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

Erik’s neck practically snaps to face her.  “The fuck is-”

“Nah Erik, you been talkin.  Soon as we got there you had stank on you, callin her ‘doc’ and talkin all vulgar.  You need to quit acting like such a child! I almost think you WISH your balls were empty.”

“Mara, ain’t nobody-”

“AND NOW you wanna say let’s switch doctors, when we been working with her since I first told you I was worried about not getting pregnant yet.  She’s spent all this time with us, changing doctors ain’t easy or quick. You know I’m the one that has to carry this right? I’m going to be the one to have to go through treatments if it comes down to it?’

“I know.”

“Nah, you really don’t Erik!  You don’t know what this will do to me having to hear this shit over and over again, when this coulda been mine already.”

Erik’s demeanor softens slightly.  “What’re you talkin bout?”

Kimara’s face becomes wet with tears.  “It wasn’t this hard, you just don’t know.  It could’ve been so damn easy, but you won’t let it.”

Erik looks around out the window.  “Where we goin Mara?”

“And you got the nerve to blame the doctors?  That’s some bullshit nigga, real fucking bullshit.”  Kimara stamps on the brake when she reaches the outside of the Korean BBQ place.  “Get your damn car! I’m going for a drive, don’t wait up.”

Erik looks at Kimara with concern.  “Mara, that’s my bad about the doctor.  I just-”

Kimara clicks the unlock button.  “Get out Erik!”

 Part 5

Masterlist

Ragtag

@chaneajoyyy @sarcastic-sunshines @muse-of-mbaku@dameshaemonique  @fonville-designs@destinio1@bakarisangel @wakanda-inspired@klaine15689 @savageiz @nickidub718@yoyolovesbucky @alexundefined @forbeautyandlife @bakarisangel

[bevioletskies]

what a wonderful world

characters: peter/gamora, guardians-centric

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

word count: 25.4k

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

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

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

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

ao3 | tag | masterpost

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think I’m deaf now,” Peter said dizzily, rubbing his palms over his temples. “You’ve deafened me.”

“This might be the worst way to spend our anniversary,” she continued, ignoring Peter’s antics as she began poking around inside with her wrench. “But at least I’m becoming more competent at this sort of thing, you know, working on the ship. At least, that’s what Rocket says, and the fact he even thought to say so tells me it’s actually true.”

“Hey, you remembered,” he grinned, moving forward to squeeze her hips affectionately. “I wasn’t gonna bring it up, but - ”

“ - but you thought I wouldn’t want to hear it,” she finished, turning to face him. “I know, I know. Peter, I promise I’m as invested in this relationship as you are. It’s just that I find anniversaries to be a superficial celebration of the passage of time, that’s all. I enjoy milestones, accomplishments, instead. They’re much more memorable than a singular date on the calendar to me. They mean more.”

“I get it. I totally get it. And you’ve always been a goal-setter.” He gently kissed her on the nose, sliding his arms around her once more. There was something immensely comforting about holding her close. “What’s been your favorite milestone so far?”

She chewed on her lip in consideration, thinking his question over, her hands coming to settle on his chest. “The first time we woke up together as a couple. You rolled right over, held me just like this, and said what I had been thinking - that it felt like we had already been together forever.”

“I was kinda worried that I made you uncomfortable as soon as I said it,” he admitted. “But you really know how to surprise me sometimes.”

“Believe me, I’ll let you know if I’m uncomfortable,” Gamora laughed. “I’m never one to shy away from speaking my mind.” She patted him on the backside very suddenly, causing Peter’s eyebrows to shoot up in surprise. “Come on, now. Let’s get to work. The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can go back inside, have breakfast, and watch one of those Christmas movies you keep telling me about.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Peter said cheerfully, stepping back to let her begin.

Two hours later, Yondu stumbled out of his bedroom, yawning, blearily rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, only to let out a startled cry at the sight of the two bodies curled up on the couch together. “Aw, hell, it’s too early for this!”

“It’s 10 AM, Yondu, you missed breakfast,” Gamora said without looking away from the television screen. “And you’ll have to cancel your date tonight, everything’s frozen over. I wouldn’t go out in that weather if I were you.”

Peter lifted his head from Gamora’s lap. “You had a date?”

“Why you sound so surprised, boy?” Offended, Yondu flicked the toothpick he was chewing on in Peter’s direction before ambling into the kitchen, digging around the pantry for some bread. “Just some cute SHIELD agent, that’s all. No biggie.”

“Is everyone tryna find dates for the Christmas party or something? Even Mantis said she might give it a shot with that girl she likes,” Peter asked, confused.

“We can’t all be as lucky as you two,” Rocket drawled, emerging from his own room, Groot in tow on his shoulder as always. “Some of us don’t get to spend every damn day hanging out with our girlfriends.” He sneered the last word like it was something dirty.

It was Yondu’s turn to be surprised, the butter knife hovering halfway in the air. “You sayin’ you had a girlfriend before, rat?”

Rocket’s face suddenly shut down, the usual smirk fading away in favor of anger. “Shut up.”

“It was just a question,” Yondu said defensively, though he bowed his head in apology. Peter glanced up at Gamora, exchanging curious looks with her before settling back down against her thighs, her fingers moving to massage his scalp.

“Hey, uh, Rocket, Gamora and I already defrosted the engine and did a performance check, so you don’t have to worry about that today,” Peter called, watching cautiously as he crossed the room to pull down one of the main holo-screens.

“That’s good. Thanks, Quill,” Rocket said tersely, keeping his back to them as he began navigating through the ship’s interface.

“Do you have plans this weekend, Rocket?” Gamora asked tentatively, her fingers beginning to slow to a near stop.

“Yeah, uh. I was gonna hang out with Groot. Maybe go over that vocabulary book you guys bought him.” The tension in his shoulders eased up a little as Groot snuggled a little into his cheek in gratitude. “Probably do it alone.”

“Are you sure you don’t want help? I mean, now that Gamora and I can understand him too, it’ll be less work for you,” Peter suggested.

Rocket slammed a paw very suddenly against the holo-screen, aggressively closing all the menus he had pulled up. “Y’know what, I don’t think I wanna hang around in here if everyone’s gonna be all talky-talky, alright? I’m gonna go work upstairs instead. No one follow me, I ain’t in the mood.” Groot let out a small whine of protest as Rocket set him down on the coffee table before storming off up the ladder.

“I shouldn’t’ve asked,” Yondu sighed as he settled down at the table with his breakfast. “Rat’s been real tetchy lately. Y’think it’s just the weather? Or something school-related, maybe?”

“It’s Rocket,” Gamora shrugged as if was the only answer they needed. “He’s got a temper, and asking him about it will only make it worse. Just leave him be for now. He’ll come to us if it’s really important.”

“Peter?” A very nervous-looking Mantis appeared at the end of the corridor, twiddling her thumbs. “May we talk in private? Please?”

“Yeah, of course.” Peter stood almost instantly, concerned, squeezing Gamora’s shoulder before moving to join Mantis in her room. She hastily shut the door behind them, a wild, almost terrified look in her eyes. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I am so scared,” Mantis whispered, taking shaky steps forward into Peter’s chest. His arms went up around her shoulders, pulling her in tight. “I do not know what to do.”

“Don’t know what to do about what?”

“What do...what do you do when you have romantic feelings for two people at the same time?”

Oh. Out of all the worst-case scenarios that had been racing through his mind in the last thirty seconds, he hadn’t expected that. Peter’s heart broke a little for his sister at the very thought. In many ways, he had been lucky with his relationship with Gamora. He had never experienced truly deep, romantic feelings for anyone before her, and although it had taken them a while to get to where they were now, neither of them ever wavered, never found themselves even considering the possibility of liking someone else at the same time. He wasn’t sure what to say that wouldn’t make Mantis feel worse. “I don’t know, Mantis, I...I never had that happen before. But you can talk it through with me if that...if it helps?”

He gently led her over to the bed, where they sat side-by-side, their socked feet pulled up onto the mattress. She was curled into herself now, arms wrapped protectively around her legs, her chin resting on her knee, staring unblinkingly at the door opposite them. She had never looked so childlike before, so completely and utterly lost, at least, not since they had first found her on Ego. “I know what you have all been thinking. About who it is. And you were incorrect. At least, at first.”

“You mean…” Peter swallowed.

“Yes,” Mantis murmured. “And I am worried that the rest of you have put that thought into my head, instead of it forming on its own. Does that make any sense?”

“You’re worried we’ve pressured you into thinking you have feelings for her,” he said carefully. “Mantis, I’m so sorry. We shouldn’t have pushed you so hard to talk about all this. It’s your feelings, not ours.”

“It has been very difficult for me,” she admitted. “I am not very good at understanding myself sometimes. But I want to. I want to know who I am, outside of being someone else’s person. Ego’s assistant, your sister, a member of the Guardians...who am I, Peter? And what is it that I want? What am I meant for?”

“I think those are questions only you get to answer,” he replied, reaching to squeeze her hand. “But if you need help figuring that out, I’m here for you, okay? And maybe it’ll help if you try talking to Gamora, too. She’s gotten pretty good at helping me with my emotional crises,” he added with a chuckle. “Knowing yourself before you get involved with someone else is usually a good idea. She’ll probably tell you the same thing.”

“You think so?” Mantis sniffled a little, wiping at her watery eyes.

“Gamora’s been through hell and back, we all know it. And I don’t think she would’ve even considered dating me if she couldn’t feel good about herself. And, y’know, maybe that doesn’t apply to everyone, because hell, no one’s sure of themselves all of the time. But if you’re super stressed out about it, then maybe you should start there. You can do it, Mantis. I believe in you.” He wrapped her in a big hug, kissing the top of her head.

She curled into him, laughing softly. “You have become so good at this, Peter. Advice-giving, I mean.” He was pleased to hear her voice already coming back stronger, warmer, like it always did.

“Comes with the job, I guess,” Peter shrugged. “Leader, brother, boyfriend. All of the above.”

“I’m sure Gamora would agree with me that you are doing an excellent job at all three,” Mantis grinned in return.

Meanwhile, in the living room, Gamora was tapping her foot idly as she waited, though she was keeping a steady eye on Groot. “I am Groot,” he pouted, burying himself deeper into the couch cushions as if he were attempting to disappear entirely. She immediately wrapped a hand around his middle and dragged him back out, frowning at him.

“I told you, no opening presents until the day of,” she said sternly. “Some people haven’t even gotten their gifts yet. Peter, for example.”

“I heard my name, did ya miss me?” Peter strolled back in with a cheesy smile on his face, arms open wide. Gamora glanced up at him, unimpressed.

“You’ve been gone for all of ten minutes, Peter. The silence was welcome,” she snarked, though she moved to lay her head on his chest the instant he sat back down. His broad shoulders made for a surprisingly comfortable pillow. “Groot’s complaining about not getting to open presents yet, despite the fact we have almost none ready, and we haven’t even gotten the tree yet. You were the one who insisted on us fulfilling holiday traditions this year.”

“I’ve been busy. Finals were awful,” Peter said defensively, wrapping his arms around her. “We’ve got time, and besides, the weather’s awful. No one’s getting a tree today. We’ll be lucky if we can even leave the ship tomorrow.”

Sighing, Gamora pulled up the blanket around them, releasing Groot so he could run up Peter’s torso and settle in on his other shoulder. “I suppose it’s better than last Christmas. I still don’t know how you ended up landing in jail, and then when we went to bail you out, we somehow got arrested, too.”

“I think that duchess liked me a little too much,” he said lazily, letting his head fall against the armrest.

“She had the most irritating voice I’ve ever heard in my life, and that’s saying something.” Gamora began picking at a piece of invisible lint on Peter’s sweater, refusing to meet his gaze.

“Is that jealousy I detect in your voice?” he teased.

She rolled her eyes, poking him in the stomach with a sharp fingernail. “You have some odd fascination with the idea that I’d be jealous of anyone romantically attracted to you. Besides, I wasn’t attracted to you at the time, so that doesn’t even count.”

“I am Groot,” Groot countered, his eyes wide as he watched them converse. It seemed to be one of his favorite pastimes.

“Exactly, thank you, Groot,” Peter said triumphantly. “So you’re saying there was a time.”

“Well.” Gamora turned her head entirely so her face was practically buried in the back of the couch. “It’s hardly a secret that I was suspicious of your relationship with Cindy. But that’s only because you were my ‘boyfriend’ already, and I was concerned about how it was going to look to others if you were interested in another girl, and why are we still discussing this? We should be talking about you not going holiday shopping yet, even though you were the one practically begging us to do this Secret Satan - ”

Peter let out a choked laugh. “It’s...it’s Santa, honey. Satan’s a different...uh...person.”

She frowned, her irritation growing. “Does it matter?”

“Trust me, you don’t wanna get those two mixed up.” He lifted a hand to run his fingers through her hair affectionately, his thumbs running soothing circles over her temples. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh. I just find it kinda cute whenever you get your references crossed. It gives me like, the weirdest visuals. Santa with a pitchfork and a tail - ” He cut himself off with a snort. She continued to look irked. “I’m not making fun of you, I promise. Please don’t murder me.”

“You’re lucky I like you.” She pinched him in retaliation. “Well, I already did my shopping with Mantis and Drax. Groot made Rocket and Yondu take him last week, which they claim is the reason they did rather subpar on their exams - as always, I’ve chosen not to listen to them - so that leaves you and - ”

“Oh, you gotta be kidding me.” Peter turned over, groaning into the cushions. “Please don’t tell me I’m going Christmas shopping with Nebula. I take back my request, murder me now.” ______

Quill.” A curt nod, refusal of eye contact, arms folded across her chest. Yes, that was Nebula, alright.

It wasn’t that Peter didn’t like Nebula - in fact, he liked her just fine, more than ever thought he would when they had first met on Knowhere while she was on a rampage, hunting Gamora down and nearly killing them all in the process - but it was rather the fact that, well, he was still kind of terrified of her. Just the tiniest bit. And who could blame him? She had a tendency to lurk in the background, no matter where they were or what they were doing. She somehow managed to fade into her surroundings, silently observing, whether during team meetings or dinner. And then, very suddenly, she would have a snarky quip or a violent outburst, the latter of which would cause Peter to have what felt like a mild heart attack.

However, Peter knew Nebula was of the utmost importance to Gamora. Despite constantly butting heads, he knew when it came down to it, the two sisters loved each other fiercely, though they would never outright admit it. He wanted to understand Nebula better, not just for Gamora’s sake, but for the sake of the entire team. He knew her general personality, her behaviors, her quirks, so to speak, but still knew so little of what she would be like as a teammate.

“This doesn’t have to be weird,” Peter told her as they got into the car (a cozy little hatchback, courtesy of Stark as always). “Why would it be weird? It’s just you...and me...hanging out together. Like we’ve...we’ve never done before.”

“Are you going to insist on talking the whole way?” Nebula buckled her seatbelt and promptly kicked her snow-covered boots up onto the dashboard, spraying little shards of ice everywhere, including the console, the emergency brake, and Peter’s arm.

“I could put the radio on instead,” he offered.

“Are you incapable of complete and total silence?” Nebula asked. “Or is it just that you like the sound of your own voice?”

“Right, I can already tell this is going to be a freaking joyride,” he muttered under his breath.

A couple hours of awkward silence later, the two of them arrived at the nearest mall, which, as predicted, was crowded with panicked shoppers, screaming children and babies, and salespeople who looked all of five seconds away from bursting into tears. Peter had to circle the parking lot at least three times before he managed to snatch up a spot furthest from the entrance, resulting in him slipping several times as they walked towards the doors. Nebula rolled her eyes at every last occurrence.

“Well, aren’t you the picture of grace,” she sighed when they finally reached the doors, yanking them open and practically stomping in. Peter could only watch in bewilderment as she began shaking more snow off her boots, not unlike a small dog. However, when she moved as if to make a run for it, he jumped forward to catch her wrist.

“Hey, hey, I promised Gamora we’d stick together, so you aren’t going anywhere without me,” he said firmly.

“And you do everything my sister tells you to do?” Nebula snorted.

“I do when she’s right, which is at least ninety-nine percent of the time,” he admitted. “Come on, let’s grab a store map and figure out where we’re going.”

There was a pause, though it wasn’t the kind of pause Nebula took when she was contemplating the various methods she had to kill a man, but an unreadable pause that made Peter shiver a little. Finally, she said, “Fine, but I want to go to the food court first.”

“Uh...not that I’m saying no, but why?”

“Iwanuhprezl.” She immediately turned on her heel away from him, though this time, she didn’t take another step.

“I...I didn’t catch that, what’d you say?”

“I want a pretzel,” Nebula mumbled. Peter blinked. Out of all the things he’d been expecting, this might’ve been at the very bottom of his nonexistent list. Still, he was pretty sure if he tried poking at what she’d just said, it would only result in broken fingers.

“I...okay, yeah, I could go for a pretzel,” he shrugged. They walked in silence towards the food court, Peter with his hands stuffed in his pockets, and Nebula’s stiffly at her side, her fingers tapping impatiently on the small pocket knife stashed on her belt (the only weapon Peter had allowed her to take). Then he brightened. “Hey, what kind of pretzel do you usually get? Savory? Sweet? Do you get dip? As a kid, I always wanted cinnamon sugar with caramel but my mom told me my teeth would literally rot of my head, but that didn’t scare me because I was like, ‘sweet, I wanna be a zombie!’ because apparently, the only word I heard was ‘rot’, and uh, you don’t care, so never mind.”

Silence. Then, “I want a cheese pretzel dog. I didn’t have breakfast.”

“Solid choice,” Peter nodded. “I can respect that.”

Fifteen minutes later, the two of them were sitting at one of the bar tables in the food court, devouring their respective pretzels. Peter was secretly pleased to see Nebula was eating at what he considered to be the ‘normal’ pace now. Even six months ago, she often ate like her food was going to get pulled out from under her any second, having become used to literally fighting for scraps. Like Gamora, he never wanted to see Nebula lose her confidence or her strength, but he was happy to see her becoming more relaxed in her own way, now that she was realizing she no longer had to fight to live.

“So I’m guessing you’re not gonna tell me who you got for Secret Santa,” he said. “Can I at least guess?”

“No.” She took a particularly vicious bite. Peter wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting.

“Well, it’s gotta be a better Christmas than last year, considering you spent two weeks stuck with Yondu while we were in jail,” he continued, undeterred, chuckling a little at the memory.

“I retreated to my dorm the moment it stopped snowing,” Nebula said, rolling her eyes. “You really think I was going to spend more time with that idiot than necessary?”

“Hey, that’s not fair. Give Yondu some credit, at least he’s trying to be your friend,” Peter protested. “Do you really hate him that much?”

“Why are you asking me so many questions?” she shot back, slamming her food down onto the table. It made an unpleasant squelching noise beneath her fingers in the process. “Did Gamora ask you to spy on me?”

“No!” he exclaimed. “She just wants me to look after you, but it’s not like she wants me to report back or anything. I just wanna get to know you better, that’s all. We never talk.”

“For a reason.” She stuffed the pretzel back in her mouth, chewing loudly. “Out of all the Terrans that I’ve met, I can’t believe it’s you that my sister has gone soft for.”

“Do you...do you think I’m bad for her?” Had he ever actually asked Nebula what he thought of his relationship with her sister? The idea had honestly never crossed his mind. It was silly in hindsight that he’d never considered it, since Gamora put more weight into Nebula’s opinions than she wanted to admit. Surely, she would have voiced her disapproval by now.

“Why does it matter what I think?”

“Because you’re the most important person in the whole damn world to Gamora, that’s why,” he said fiercely, leaning forward. “And if you think she deserves better, I wanna know why. I wanna know how I can do better.”

Nebula was first to break eye contact, instead electing to stare at her feet. “Fine. I’ll tell you what I think of you if you agree to never ask me again, and never tell Gamora we had this conversation.” He nodded eagerly in response. “You’re loud, obnoxious, overly dramatic, too energetic, and you never stop pestering all of us about being ‘family’.” Pausing, she lifted her head, narrowing her pitch-black eyes as if to examine him. “But...I suppose Gamora and I have never had someone so invested in our well-being in a very long time, or at least one who never expects anything in return. You make a decent leader when you actually try, though your speeches are horrendous. And I...trust you enough to eventually help us in our quest to kill Thanos, though I doubt you’ll survive the attempt.”

“Still thinking about that, huh?” he chuckled to himself, ignoring the passive-aggressive comments that were quintessential to really anything Nebula ever said. It seemed like eons ago since they first began seriously discussing going after Thanos, ending his terrifying reign once and for all, but he hadn’t made any moves in the last little while, giving the Guardians hope that they would have more time to prepare. Still, Peter knew Nebula was more anxious about it than anyone, even her sister. Her desperation for Thanos’s approval had been flipped on its side, now channeled into her hatred for what he had done to her and Gamora.

“You help her forget, even for just a little while, the unspeakable horrors we’ve been through, the horrid acts of pain and slaughter we’ve carried out in the name of a man who has done nothing but hurt us.” There was a twitch at the corner of her mouth that suggested she was attempting a proper smile. “You seem committed to making my sister believe in her self-worth, value her own happiness. So...I guess I can’t really fault you for that. Even if I don't care for either of those things myself.”

“I...wow.” Peter found himself struggling to choose his next words. For once, it wasn’t out of fear of what her reaction (or more accurately, her retaliation) would be, but of complete and utter shock. “Nebula, that’s...I don’t know what to say.”

“So you’re saying I’ve successfully shut you up? Good,” she smirked, though not out of malice. In a way, he felt as if they had reached an understanding of sorts, or at the very least, something of a truce. “Though like I said...if you tell Gamora any of what transpired just now, I will kill you.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that one before,” he laughed, bunching up his paper wrapper. “You ready to go?”

Shopping didn’t go quite as smoothly as Peter had anticipated, considering their conversation had ended on such a high note. Nebula was evasive when Peter tried to figure out where she wanted to go to get her Secret Santa gift, and the frequency of her eye-rolling increased tenfold once he requested they pick out more Christmas decorations for the ship.

“Don’t blame me, we were all too busy to go shopping during exams,” Peter said defensively. “Just help me pick out the damn Christmas lights. Should we get multi-colored? White? Red and green? These weird purple-y ones? I dunno what’s up with those.”

“Considering the ship is obnoxiously colorful, get white for general use and multicolor for the tree.” He stared at her in disbelief. She suddenly seemed to have realized she had put too much thought into her answer. “It’s obvious, you idiot.” That was more like it.

“Mistletoe’s unnecessary since no one’s kissing anyone but me and Gamora,” Peter said as they continued on. “Plus, she’d probably hate the idea of forced PDA.”

“She’s extraordinarily tactile when it comes to you, Quill, I wouldn’t worry about it.” Nebula’s ability to tap her foot impatiently as fast as she was going was starting to give Peter a headache.

“Wasn’t aware I asked for the peanut gallery,” he snarked in return. The confused expression he got in return was worth it.

When they went into the toy store to look for presents for Groot - he was beginning to develop a sizeable collection of plushies as large as he was - Peter found himself swarmed by children who recognized him, asking him to sign bits of paper or their Star-Lord dolls. Beaming, he complied instantly, trying his best to reach everyone in the crowd of approximately thirty people.

“What do you do at that big superhero school of yours?” one brave little one asked him, her eyes so huge that it reminded him of Mantis.

“Well, we just finished exams,” Peter said. At the kids’ disappointed faces, he hastily added, “But we had to fight this woman who came from Asgard last month - y’know, that place where Thor is from? - and it turns out she was the goddess of death!”

“Ooh,” said about seven different tiny voices in near-perfect synchronicity.

“How did ya beat her?” one skeptical boy asked.

“There was this other woman who came to help defeat the goddess of death - her name is Valkyrie, you might’ve seen her on the news. Super cool, white marks on her face, big blue cape? And she got lots of the other girls on campus to help her with all of their weapons, and powers, and skills, to send the goddess of death back to where she came from,” Peter explained. “Oh, Nebula for example. She was one of them.” He gestured towards her.

“Are you a hero too, miss?” One of the littlest girls took a step closer towards Nebula. She looked no older than four. Peter shot her a pleading look over the girl’s head. He knew by now that Gamora had grown comfortable with dealing with admiring children, while Nebula still snarled at Groot when she was feeling particularly tempestuous.

“It varies from day to day,” she drawled, folding her arms across her chest. That seemed to satisfy the girl well enough, as she stepped back to join the rest of the crowd once more.

“Tell us more about the Val’krie!” one girl begged.

Peter chuckled. “Sure. Well, I haven’t really hung out with her or anything, but she’s friends with my girlfriend, Gamora - you guys know who she is, right? - and oh, man, watching them train together is super awesome…”

“How could you possibly stand being around those little creatures?” Nebula shuddered. It had been fifteen minutes since they had left the toy store, now armed with bags of free merchandise, courtesy of the manager. “Unpredictable, noisy, obnoxious, asking too many questions...you know what? Never mind. You must be entirely at kin.”

“Har-har,” Peter said sarcastically. “Kids are great when they're not tryna cause trouble. They’re just curious, that's all. You were never like that?”

“You’re asking me to remember a period of my life that has been long removed from memory,” she said darkly. Whether she had simply chosen to forget it, or Thanos had actually physically done something to her memory, Peter wasn’t sure, and he didn’t think it would be right to ask. “Are you telling me Gamora still has memories of childhood?”

“She never talked about it much. She says she remembers bits and pieces about her parents, but she sometimes forgets them entirely,” Peter admitted. “Is it like that for you?”

“As always, you ask too many questions,” Nebula sighed, though she didn’t continue on with another threat. Peter considered that to be a sign of progress. “Oh, there’s that store with too many shirts and toys.”

“Yeah, Hot Topic. Maybe I’ll buy something for Gamora, she loves getting her gloves there,” he replied, grinning easily.

They returned to the school campus a mere hour before dinnertime, loaded with a surprising amount of shopping bags. Nebula was in unusually good spirits after they had come across a stall selling toy weapons. She had insisted upon buying one for both Gamora and Rocket, wanting to plant them among their existing inventory and see how long it would take for them to notice. Peter was just surprised she even understood the concept of a prank in the first place.

“You’re not terrible, Quill,” Nebula said as they pulled up to the entrance gates. “Though I’m definitely not a fan.”

“Fair enough,” Peter replied as he passed their ID cards to the security guard. “You aren’t my favorite either. But we’re cool now, right? Like, less death threats and stuff?”

She side-eyed him before snorting, shaking her head. “Sure, Quill. ‘Less death threats and stuff’. But only because I don’t want to put up with Gamora’s incessant whining if I were to harm a single hair on your head.”

Upon boarding the ship, they were immediately greeted by Gamora, who was sitting by the entrance, twisting the multitude of silver rings that adorned her fingers rather anxiously. “No injuries, I see,” she said dryly as she moved to help them with their bags.

“We’re practically best friends now,” Peter said cheerfully as he began unloading his haul onto the coffee table. “Sorry, Gamora, you’ve been demoted.”

“I’ll get over it,” she shrugged, turning towards her sister. “Nebula?”

“He’s not a total loser,” Nebula replied, unceremoniously dropping all of her bags onto the floor. There was a crunching noise that made both Peter and Gamora wince. “I suppose you could have picked a worse Terran to fall in love with.”

“I think that’s the nicest thing I’ve ever heard you say about Peter,” Gamora said, smirking as she stepped closer to him, patting him placatingly on the arm. “Don’t you agree?”

“Sure,” Peter said, catching Nebula’s wary gaze. She was practically pleading him to stay silent. “I don’t really pay attention when she’s talking, to be super honest with you.”

Rolling her eyes, Gamora swatted him with a dish towel before pulling him over to the kitchen so they could set the dining table together. Nebula flopped onto the couch, kicking her feet up onto the armrest, smiling a little to herself. Yes, she supposed her sister could have done a lot worse in choosing a companion. But he turned out to be a half-decent leader after all. Friendship, however? That was still an entirely different story. Nebula didn’t want friends, never wanted friends, but...in a strange way, maybe he had become one without her realizing it. Dammit. ______

“Gamora? Are you busy at the moment?” Gamora startled a little from where she was curled up on the couch, looking up from her book. Drax was looming over her, and if she were anyone else, she might have been a little wary about his otherwise serious expression, but if anything, she was just a little annoyed.

“Do you need something?” she asked with a raised brow, sliding her thumb across the page to hold it in place.

“Quill requested that Mantis and I make cookies for the team, but seeing as Mantis has fallen ill…” He trailed off uncertainly.

“You want me to be her substitute.” Gamora nodded in understanding, closing her book and getting to her feet. “Sure, why not?”

Drax gave her a grateful smile before they walked into the kitchen. They worked in silence for a few minutes, gathering up utensils and ingredients in accordance with the recipe Peter had provided them. Unlike the way Drax and Mantis cooked, using Terran recipes they had found in books or online, Peter’s recipe was written down by hand on a notecard. Gamora remembered when he had told her about the way his mother had indexed and revised her recipes, a habit he had since picked up himself. She smiled fondly at the messy scribbles on the card, the way Peter had written “approximately” at least half a dozen times in various spots, unsure of whether he had remembered it exactly right.

“How have you been, Gamora?”

She turned away from the stick of butter she was slicing up to look over her shoulder at Drax. “Fine, I suppose. My exams went well, I did all of my shopping, got all of the team paperwork completed for the year, and - ”

He chuckled, though not unkindly. “I meant your general well-being, not your to-do list. You are usually quite stressed this time of year.”

“Well, I'll tell you a secret, Drax,” Gamora hummed, turning back to the task at hand. “I’m always stressed.” He let out a jovial laugh, a full-bellied chuckle that betrayed his otherwise imposing presence. He passed her the mixing bowl so she could add the butter. “I have relaxed a fair bit since this time last year, though. Probably because of my increasing closeness to the rest of you.”

“It is a delight to see,” Drax nodded. “Your happiness is integral to all of us, Gamora. It would be a shame if you were worn out.” He moved back to the other side of the kitchen to begin working on the dry ingredients. “Quill told me you’re starting your fight classes next month. Are you not concerned about your impending workload?”

“I can handle it.” She smiled a little to herself as she began stirring. “Besides, it’s not like I’m alone in all this. Peter shares my Guardian work, and Nebula and I have an equal hand in fight training. As I’ve said, if there’s anything I’ve learned these past couple of years, being with this team, it’s that we should let other people be part of our lives. There’s value in teamwork.”

“I imagine with the difficult life you led beforehand, it must be a relief to be here.” Drax pulled up a stool and sat down, facing her. It was a little comical, considering the stool was built for an average-sized person while he dwarfed it by a long shot, but he looked quite pensive otherwise.

Drax was certainly a curious one to Gamora, perhaps the sole person of the group that she empathized with the most, and yet understood the least. His single-minded determination to kill her when they had first met told her he was a brute and a bully, someone who couldn’t see the forest for the trees. He spoke with a diverse vocabulary, yet understood little of the semantics of language and socialization, perhaps even less than she and Nebula. Later, she came to understand it was the nature of his people, and she felt shameful to have judged him at all. Now, she had a better sense of his true self - kind, loving, fiercely loyal and protective of those he cared about, and she was glad to be considered one of his loved ones.

She was also grateful that he had never described to her, in detail, the deaths of his family. He had told her the general gist of what had happened, but a part of her always wondered if he still somewhat resented her for it, despite her having no hand in the actual crime.

“Do you still think of her?” Gamora asked quietly.

“Why do you ask?”

“Well…” She hesitated before settling down on a stool herself, opposite him. “A little while ago, Rocket seemed to imply he used to have someone - a significant other, that is. And he said that some people couldn’t be as lucky as Peter and I. It got me thinking, if our relationship made you uncomfortable, or made you feel sad…”

“I do think of Hovat.” Drax folded his hands neatly in his lap. “Perhaps not as often as you might imagine, but every now and then, I have a quiet moment to myself, and I think fondly of her. I think of how we met, the time we spent together. How, had I not invited her over to my family’s home that night, she would not have been killed alongside them. We did not live together yet, but it felt inevitable that we would someday. Now…” He trailed off.

“I wish it could’ve been different for you. You’ll get your vengeance someday, I promise.”

He shook his head, smiling weakly. “No, Gamora. I have no need for revenge any longer. Besides, I believe you and Nebula deserve the chance to kill Thanos just as much as I do, if not much more. Despite having heard very little stories and seen no physical scars, I can only imagine that the pain he inflicted upon both of you is worth his death many times over.”

“We’ll get that bastard someday.” They both turned to see Peter standing in the doorway, wearing a ratty old band T-shirt, yawning and scratching at his belly. “You guys baking in here? Smells good.”

“As per your request,” Drax said, getting to his feet. “Another Terran tradition of yours, yes?”

“Usually, yeah.” Peter kissed Gamora chastely on the forehead before moving to grab the water pitcher from the fridge. “Better tradition than telling your kids about the night you made them.”

“You have such odd hang-ups about intimacy, Quill,” Drax chuckled, shaking his head in amusement.

“Uh, would you like it if I told you, in detail, about every single time Gamora and I have sex?” Peter brandished the jug at Drax and ended up splashing water on himself instead.

“I know I wouldn’t,” Gamora said loudly, prodding him in the gut with her foot. “Don’t encourage him, Peter. Next thing you know, he’ll request to be present.” Peter shuddered at the very thought, shuffling several feet away from Drax in response.

“I’ll leave you guys to it,” Peter said hastily, grabbing the cough syrup from the coffee table. “Just dropping by to get some stuff for Mantis.” He gave them an awkward wave before slowly backing away down the corridor. Gamora couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his antics.

“Such a strange one, that Quill,” Drax commented once Peter was out of sight. “But I must admit, he has become more and more valuable these days. I could not imagine the team without him.”

“His effort is quite admirable,” Gamora replied with a gentle smile.  They began pulling out the old, rusted cookie sheets, scooping up the dough and divvying out what they hoped to be evenly-sized dough balls. “It’s what all of us should be trying to do, don’t you agree? To be better versions of ourselves?”

“A good way of thinking about it,” Drax nodded. “You have always been the wisest of us all, Gamora. It is one of the many things I admire about you. Though honestly, it was also what made me curious about what you saw in Quill, romantically. His intelligence and maturity seemed lacking in comparison to yours. But I see now that you two hold the utmost respect for each other, understanding and devotion. I liken it to my relationship with Hovat.”

“I can tell by the way you talk about her that she meant everything to you.” Gamora leaned back onto the counter, watching Drax contemplatively as he slid the cookie sheets into the oven, wincing a little at the screeching noise it made. “Do you think you’ll ever seek another romantic relationship again?”

“Part of me worries it will be seen as disrespectful to what I had with Hovat,” Drax said, straightening back up. He looked anguished at the very thought of upsetting her. “In my culture, we believe that the spirit lives on. And perhaps her spirit will curse me for wanting to be with another.” He smiled in remembrance. “But she was not a vengeful person, my Hovat. I believe she would want me to be happy. However, I have yet to meet a person who I wish to share my affections with. Like with Hovat, I think I will see them and just…know. Which is why I choose not to go on those dating websites or ‘apps’ that Quill has told me about.”

“Smart move,” Gamora said dryly. “Well, there’s no rush. You have time.”

“Yes, I do.” Drax grinned a little wider, serene. “There are still many things I hope to do someday. I have already been in love once. I still love her, of course. But falling in love again, it simply isn’t a priority compared to what else life has to offer me. Taking on Thanos at last, for example. Not out of vengeance, but a desire to, well, guard the galaxy. Prevent others from suffering the same fate as my family, as yours. An honorable lifetime endeavor, I would say.”

“And a hefty title and reputation to hold, at that,” Gamora added, holding up her glass of water. Drax let out a merry laugh and clinked his cup against hers, drinking deeply as if it were the finest of wines. ______

Mantis emerged from her bedroom, practically dragging her feet, inhaling loudly. She winced a little at the whistling noise her nose made as she did. She was almost over her flu – she had never fallen ill via Terran sickness before, and it was decidedly unpleasant compared to some alien ailments she had experienced while living with Ego.

She stumbled her way up the ladder to the cockpit, curious about the echoing sound of clanking and clattering. She expected to see Peter there, digging around for some lost trinket or gadget as he often did, blaming his misplaced items on the others as always. To her surprise, she found Rocket instead, who was frantically emptying out a large, worn-out cardboard box, muttering to himself under his breath like a crazed person.

“Rocket? Is everything okay?”

“Quill ain’t here, bug-girl,” Rocket snapped without looking up. “So you can piss off.”

“Do not talk to me like that,” Mantis frowned, getting closer so she could kneel beside him. She was hardly ever deterred by Rocket’s behavior at this point, having gotten too used to his mood swings. “Maybe I can help.”

“Do you know how any of this stuff works?” Rocket gestured at the pile of what looked to be circuit boards and data chips, some of which looked incredibly broken and brittle. “If you don’t, I can repeat what I said earlier.”

“I only want to help,” Mantis repeated. “Tell me what you are looking for and let me try and find it.”

Sighing, Rocket threw down the flash drive he was holding and slumped back onto his hind legs. There was a sense of defeat in him that Mantis rarely ever detected, a resignation in his eyes so unusual it disturbed her. Of all the Guardians, she avoided Rocket the most, only ever interfering with his emotions if another was at risk. Otherwise, she knew he was secretly afraid of her, of what she could do. It still hurt her feelings a little bit, him thinking she would ever manipulate or betray his trust like that, but she understood where he was coming from. Sometimes, she was a bit scared of what she was capable of, too.

“My display’s been all outta whack lately,” he said, picking up the wrist computer he often toted around. “Something inside must’ve literally cracked. But I can’t find a match for the broken piece.” He turned it over to show her the open hatch, where she did indeed see a section with a corner broken off, the minuscule lights stuttering and flashing as if in warning.

“That seems to be quite old,” she said thoughtfully, carefully taking it from him. “Have you considered building a new one? You must be quite the expert in doing so.”

“No!” Rocket exclaimed, yanking it back. “I have to…I have to fix this one. I have to.”

“Okay. Okay.” Mantis held up her hands defensively. “Okay, then let us look. Are there more boxes of these things anywhere else? Have you asked Peter, maybe? This ship has many nooks and crannies we have never been to.”

“I already asked, and this is all we got, so.” Once again, the tightness in his shoulders melted away as he leaned against the box in hopelessness, the tips of his ears drooping. “Oh, this ain’t happening. I’m not gonna be able to do this.” The wrist computer let off an alarming series of sparks as if to agree with him.

“I’m sorry, Rocket.” She worried at her bottom lip, unsure of what to do. She wasn’t sure why this was so important to him, especially right at this very second, but she was determined to stop him from giving up. At least one thing was for certain – she needed to calm him down, not with her powers, but with her words. “Should I go get Peter? He would be more knowledgeable about what to do – ”

“No, no, we ain’t telling Quill about this.” He yanked the device off his arm and threw it so hard that the glass display cracked on impact. “Shit.”

Rocket made no move to pick it up, staring at it with wide eyes, frozen. Mantis crawled forwards to grab it and bring it back, turning it over gently in her hands. “It’s okay. It is only a small crack. The glass will be easy to replace.”

Suddenly snapping out of it, Rocket glared at her like she had been the one to throw it in the first place. “You really don’t get it, do you?” he snarled. “What, you not tryna read my mind or whatever the hell it is you do – ”

“And I have said many times before, I read emotions, not minds,” she said patiently, settling in across from him. “So if you are frustrated because I do not understand you, then make me understand.”

“No.” He shook his head almost violently. “No, no one knows, ‘cept Groot. And I aim to keep it that way.”

“I find another perspective is always helpful,” she offered. When he remained silent, eyes narrowed as if he were contemplating whether to snap the antennae off her forehead, she simply smiled in return. “When I was living on Ego’s planet, all I ever knew, for the longest time, was him. I knew what he thought of the world, what he wanted from the world. And I went along with him because I thought he was clever, I thought he was kind. But that was because I did not know what other beings were like. Then, his children began to appear to us. Children of many different races and backgrounds. Some I knew for weeks. Some for just a few hours, before they would disappoint him. And then they would be gone, just like that. Still, I began to empathize more with the children than with him. I saw different ideas of what it meant to be united, to be a collective group of people, instead of Ego’s idea of The Expansion. To live in harmony. But I did not believe that I would ever be able to leave Ego behind, as I was too used to being with him. I was becoming too reliant. It was not until you all arrived that I began to understand my true purpose. What I was meant to be doing, how I could help.”

Rocket broke eye contact first, casting his gaze down on the floor, arms still folded defensively across his chest. “Yeah, yeah, another perspective. You should really be in charge of that motivational speech crap that Quill’s a big fan of, y’know? At least you don’t ramble on about some TV show no one’s ever seen.” She fixed him with another patient smile before he exhaled slowly, relenting. “You really wanna know?”

“Yes,” she said softly. “I do.”

Another long, shaky exhale. “This…this thing. It didn’t belong to me originally. It belonged to 89P14. Her name was Lylla.” He sniffled so quietly Mantis almost thought she’d imagined it, if not for the wetness on his nose. “We were both…monsters. Created in a lab. Except she wasn’t a monster at all. She was…sweet. Optimistic. Upbeat. A real good soul, y’know? Never gave up hope on thinkin’ we’d be able to escape the lab one day. We lived in cages right next to each other. And when we weren’t being experimented on, we talked. We could talk for hours. And the stupid thing is, it’s not like we had tons to talk about. Neither of us knew any sorta life outside of those cages. But we liked to imagine the kind of adventures we’d get to go on once we got out. It distracted us from the pain we were in.”

“What happened?” Mantis prompted, though she had a sinking feeling she knew what was coming next.

“What else? We got brave…and stupid. Or in Lylla’s case, hopeful. She always had so much hope.” He chuckled weakly. “We tried to escape. Devised a whole plan. It was s’posed to be airtight. But I guess one of the others must’ve heard us, wanted to get us in trouble so we’d get put through the ringer and they’d be left alone. The thing is, the assholes working in the labs, they can’t survive the outside air on Halfworld, so Lylla and I punctured all of their bio-suits ahead of time. But they didn’t know that, so they chased me and her all up and down the complex, aiming to stun, not kill. We were too valuable for that. But then we got to the final gate that would lead to our freedom, and it was stuck. Some stupid freakin’ fingerprint-protected thing, y’know? And Lylla, she was the only one who knew tech better than I did, so she insisted I run ahead and she’d get it open. Like a dumbass, I did what she told me to. I always did. So the gates open, I’m runnin’, and I turn around and she’s just standing there. All the scientists, they start panicking ‘cause the air’s comin’ in. So they just snatch her up and run back for cover. Gate closes. And that’s the last I ever saw of her.”

“Rocket…” Mantis’s eyes watered. She wanted to reach over and comfort him somehow, but the last time she had tried to pet him, it hadn’t gone so smoothly. Her fingers trembled with desperation. “I don’t know what to say. I am so sorry.”

“Par for the course, right?” He tilted his head upwards, staring off into nothing, his dark eyes glossy with tears. “When those assholes were workin’ on me, I was always in pain. Still am sometimes. But never...never here.” He weakly tapped his own chest with a shaking claw. “Not until that day.”

“Tell me.” Rocket turned to look at her in confusion. “Tell me if it ever gets so bad that it physically hurts. My powers are only a temporary solution, but at least it will provide you some relief. It will not make you forget her, or what she meant to you. I promise. Do not hesitate to ask me, Rocket.”

“You gotta let me have some of my pride left intact,” he chuckled half-heartedly. “And it’s stupid – this whole d’ast thing is stupid – but even though it’s just a dumb Terran holiday, Quill going on and on about how this time of year is for family and loved ones just reminds me even more that she’s gone.”

“I know we are no substitute for how you felt about her, but do not ever doubt that we care about you,” Mantis said, smiling warmly. “And…maybe this is a stupid question, but how do you know that Lylla actually died in the lab that day?”

“What…what do ya mean?” There was an almost startling spark of wistfulness in Rocket’s eyes. Mantis found herself worrying that she was already getting his hopes too high.

“Well…say that the contaminated air from the outside got into the lab. All the scientists die. Lylla and the others survive,” she said slowly.

“No, that’s…that’s impossible. They would’ve come outta the lab, I would’ve seen ‘em.”

“Maybe. Or maybe the scientists died a slow death, and the others had to wait. Or maybe they spent some time gathering supplies from the lab, or seeking vengeance upon the people and the place that destroyed them.” Mantis shrugged. “I am just saying, there are many possible outcomes here.”

“So you’re saying…if I had just waited…just a little bit longer…I might’ve seen her again?” His ears drooped once more, shaking his head slowly. “I was just so caught up in the idea of her death that I just ran off when I could've waited.”

“It is only one scenario, Rocket. Do not beat yourself up for what you did or what you could have done,” Mantis said reassuringly. “I am just saying…have some faith. And that includes having faith in this computer of yours. Surely we must be able to find a replacement. If not on this ship, then elsewhere. You do not have to tell the others your reasons in detail. Just tell Peter that it is important to you, and I’m sure he will help.”

“…I could return to Halfworld.” He turned the wrist computer over and over again, as if it possessed some magic qualities that would tell him what to do next. “They’d probably have the parts I need.”

“There you go,” Mantis beamed. “All hope is not lost. It might be too cold to take the Milano out at the moment, but when it gets warmer again, we can go to Halfworld and help in your search.”

“Y’know what? You ain’t so bad, bug-girl,” Rocket said. He reached over to place a paw on her forearm, usually the kind of move that she had to make to placate him. “Maybe it’s all that holiday spirit voodoo crap that Quill’s been talking about, but I’m feelin’ generous, so. Thanks. For…this.”

“I am your friend, whether you admit it or not,” she teased. “I am just glad I can be here for you. I always feel so much anger…resentment…from you. Sometimes even more so than Nebula. I much prefer it when you are happy.”

He grinned toothily, baring his fangs in a way that made Mantis involuntarily flinch a little. “So do I, kid. So do I.” ______

“Well, it’s about d’ast time,” Rocket said triumphantly, watching as Drax hefted the tree a little higher on his shoulder, strolling up the loading ramp of the Milano as if it weighed no more than his backpack. “I was startin’ to think Quill was playing a joke on us, tellin’ us that humies put presents around a tree in their living room. Thought you were tryna mess with Groot or something.”

“I’m not that big of a dick, thank you very much,” Peter grumbled. He was walking closely behind Drax, holding the accompanying stand and tree skirt. “Honey, you got the decorations?”

“I can already tell you went overboard,” Gamora retorted with a resigned sigh as she emerged from the storage closet. She was carrying a large cardboard box that was bursting at the seams, weighed down with Christmas lights, ornaments, and the like, all things Peter had been slowly accumulating over the last month in anticipation of finally celebrating the holiday season on Earth. “I gave you a budget for a reason, Peter.”

“Trust me, you won’t regret it once you see it in action!" He and Drax began setting the tree down in the corner of their already-cramped living area, carefully adjusting the skirt and fanning it outwards to make it look somewhat presentable. The others watched, somewhat unimpressed.

“It’s going to shed everywhere,” Mantis said uncertainly. “Is this really what Terrans do, Peter?”

“You guys won’t doubt me once we get these going,” Peter replied, walking over to Gamora and patting the top of the decoration box. “Come on, everyone jump in!”

“I hope you do not mean literally,” Drax said, apprehensively eyeing the size of the box. The look in his eyes told the others he was mentally calculating how many of them could fit inside.

“I never do, dude. I never do.”

They worked in hesitant silence for the first couple of minutes, an admittedly welcome sound considering the usual chaotic atmosphere of the ship. Nebula was the only one not participating, electing to instead sprawl across the armchair, watching as the others strung up lights, hung up ornaments, and wound some tinsel around the tree. Groot was standing on the very tip of Yondu’s fin in order to place the glittering star on top.

“What are these for?” Mantis asked, pulling out yet another plastic package from the box, the very last of the decorations. Each bag contained oval chalkboard ornaments with a small hole puncture, strung with peppermint-striped ribbon.

“We can personalize those,” Peter suggested. “I was thinking we could write our names, or maybe Christmas-y sayings, or stuff that we loved about this year. There’s fifty of ‘em in there.”

They all shot him dubious looks, unsure of whether they even had enough ideas to fill all fifty chalkboard ornaments. Peter faltered a little at the sight of everyone’s expressions, wondering if once again, he had overdone it in his enthusiasm. But then Gamora stepped forwards first, opening up the plastic package with her teeth and taking out a stack for herself, along with an accompanying piece of white chalk. She settled down on the floor next to Nebula’s feet, bringing her knees up close to her chest, and began carefully sketching out her name in neat script.

Yondu laughed very suddenly, startling Groot, who was still perched on his head. “Oh, hell, why not?” He proceeded to do the same as Gamora, grabbing extra for Groot before setting him back down on the coffee table.

Gradually, the others began queuing up for materials, Peter being the last one, an internal sense of relief settling into his bones. He sat next to Gamora, trying to ignore the sway of Nebula’s feet next to his head (he was pretty sure she was doing it on purpose). “Thanks, Gamora,” he said softly.

“I’ve got your back,” she smiled in return. “Besides, it’s not like I have anything better to do.” He nudged her shoulder with his playfully, laughing quietly. “What did you love about this year, Peter?”

“Classes were more interesting,” he began slowly, tilting his head in deep thought. His fingers began drumming out a beat on his knees. Gamora was surprised to find she could identify the song quite easily, though considering how much time she spent in his company nowadays, maybe it wasn’t so surprising after all. “I really liked learning, actually. I don’t usually like school, but this place is pretty awesome. Oh, and we had way more successful missions, since we actually know what we’re doing.”

“Other than the one where we were stranded on an abandoned planet and thought everyone else was dead,” she added, waving her chalk at him. “I can’t say that was entirely pleasant.”

“Figured that went without saying,” he chuckled. “I feel like I also made more friends this year, since there were so many new students that joined up. And I’m definitely closer to all the Guardians than before, which is always a bonus. I think even Nebula’s beginning to like me.” The swift, but gentle kick to the back of his head told him otherwise. “Ow, okay, I take it back. But it feels like a real family now. Kicking included.”

“Strangest one I’ve ever seen, but I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Gamora confessed. She began sketching out a tiny version of her sword on her ornament, her tongue slightly poking out in concentration, eyebrows knitted together. His heart melted a little at the sight.

“And of course, you.” Peter slung an arm over her shoulders, turning to kiss her forehead. “Don’t think I need to tell you how you’re kind of one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. I wouldn’t be nearly as happy or successful as a leader if you weren’t right here by my side.”

“We started off in a rough place back then, but I have no regrets about the outcome.” She slid her socked foot neatly between his, tapping him with her toes. “Being co-leaders, best friends, romantic partners…I honestly thought it would be too much. That it would mean we had too many responsibilities to each other, too much emotional investment, too much to ask of each other, but…I think we’ve found even footing. Both a separation and a merging of our roles, so to speak.”

“How romantic of you,” he teased. “You sound like we’re going into business together.”

She prodded him in the cheek with her chalk in retaliation, leaving a white streak in his stubble that was rather comical-looking. “Do you want me to gush over your virtues, Quill?” He shivered a little at the use of his last name – she never called him that anymore despite originally using it exclusively, and he had to admit, it sort of did something for him. “Lavish you with affection, boost your ego?”

“It’s all I ever ask for,” he said sarcastically, wiping at his face.

“You know how much I care about you, Peter.” She softened, her dark eyes warm with affection. “Please don’t make me say it when everyone else is in the room.” She was beginning to grow flushed with every word she spoke.

He dipped his head to bury his face into her jawline, pleased when she began to laugh at the sensation, her fingers digging into his side. “I can’t believe you’re embarrassed at how much you love me,” he sing-songed triumphantly. “Aw, Gamora. I love you too.”

“Have I mentioned you two are insufferable?” They both looked up to see Nebula leaning over them. Now she was the one brandishing chalk in their faces. They had to duck in order to avoid getting the spray of chalk dust in their eyes.

“This would only be the thousandth time,” Gamora retorted. She pulled Peter a little closer into the crook of her neck out of petulance. “If you don’t like it, sit somewhere else.”

“I was here first!” Nebula exclaimed incredulously. Peter couldn’t help but notice a childlike squeak on the last word, but decided against saying anything. He wasn’t looking to be blinded via chalk dust, not today.

“She has a point,” he shrugged. “There’s more room on the couch. Let’s cuddle obnoxiously until Yondu makes gagging noises. Again.”

“You know I will,” Yondu called from the kitchen, where he was leaning against the counter island. “You’re lucky I like you both, or I woulda skipped out on this nonsense a long time ago!”

“I am not embarrassed,” Gamora mumbled as she dragged him over to the couch. ______

Yondu wasn’t being facetious when he said he liked Peter and Gamora, that he thought they were a good match. He knew the others had had their doubts back in the days of trying to set them up, but he never wavered, not when it came to Peter’s love life. After all, he’d grown up alongside him, watched him blossom from a scrappy little kid to a (relatively) responsible young man. Gamora made Peter incredibly happy, had become his other half in many ways so quickly, that Yondu was honestly surprised anyone ever questioned the legitimacy or compatibility of their relationship.

That being said, he wasn’t a fan of constantly seeing their...intimacy.

And okay, he was lucky enough to have never caught them in the act before. He had accidentally witnessed plenty on the Eclector when Peter was a bit of a flirt, enough times that Yondu was a little too familiar with what he looked like, sans clothes. But in a way, it was almost worse seeing them cuddle.

“Not again,” Yondu groaned as he turned around from his spot by the fridge. “Were you even here five seconds ago, girl?”

On the battlefield, Gamora was fierce, relentless, unwavering. She stared down death as if it were just another face in the crowd. Seeing her wearing an oversized Christmas sweater (likely one of Peter’s), tucked into his side in the armchair despite it only having room for one, with a book in hand, kind of challenged that image for Yondu.

“Grow up, Yondu,” she retorted without looking up. “You would think you’d all be used to this by now, but you still insist on acting like a child whenever Peter and I are remotely close to each other.”

“I am Groot?”

“I didn’t mean that as an insult to children, Groot, I apologize.” Gamora leaned over to pet Groot in consolation, where he was stood on the coffee table, pouting.

“You’d think for a guy who schemed about getting us together, he’d be a little happier about it,” Peter smirked, giving Gamora a particularly sloppy kiss on the cheek. She wrinkled her nose and swatted at him, wiping away the saliva he’d left on her face.

“I am happy for ya,” Yondu insisted. “I just thought you’d be the more private type, G’mora.”

“I choose to no longer fear intimacy,” she said patiently, setting her book on the armrest. “I feel most comfortable with myself around all of you, so I make the effort to be more affectionate when it’s just us, especially since Peter is a very tactile person. It’s not like I’m constantly hanging off of him in public. And it’s not my problem that you also happen to be here.” Peter snickered into her shoulder.

“Ri-i-ight,” Yondu drawled. “Sure, that’s what it is. Well, I gotta go make my call to Kraglin, make sure he’s doin’ okay. Anyone wanna join me?”

Groot perked right up, waving his arms in the air enthusiastically. “I am Groot!” he chirruped.

“Sure, twig, I’m sure Krag’ll be happy to hear from ya.” Yondu scooped him up and set him on his shoulder. Groot hummed happily in response, his little fingers holding steadfast to Yondu’s ear. “I’ll leave you two alone like you want. Don’t go defiling the furniture, now.”

“How do ya know we haven’t already?” Peter called after Yondu’s retreating back.

Yondu didn’t give him the satisfaction of any sort of visceral reaction. After all, he could hear a grunt that told him Gamora had elbowed Peter in the gut for his insinuation. Instead, he turned to Groot and said, “You’ve got some weird parents, twig.” Groot shrugged nonchalantly in response.

They spent a few minutes in comfortable silence as Yondu attempted to get everything set up. Coordinating calls with Kraglin was always a bit of a nightmare, what with him being hundreds of thousands of clicks away at any given time, but it was worth it. Yondu missed Kraglin fiercely, secretly wished he would come join the school alongside him, be on a team together again. But Kraglin didn’t like school, had never been good at it, and his talents clearly lay elsewhere – captaining the Eclector. And Yondu didn’t trust anyone else to do the job (especially that stupid what’s-his-face).

Groot was enjoying himself in the meantime, bouncing up and down on Rocket’s chair, squealing and whooping with delight. Yondu’s eyes darted over to him every minute or so to make sure he wasn’t entertaining himself with the buttons on the console instead. “Be careful, kid, or you’re gonna send us flyin’.”

“I am Groot,” he retorted, insulted.

“I’m just sayin’, that’s all,” Yondu replied, holding up his hands defensively. “Alrighty, we’re in, I think. Krag? You there, boy?”

“H – zzt – ah – zzt – yeah – zzt – yeah, I’m here.” The speakers in the cockpit of the Milano screeched to life rather unpleasantly. “Howzit goin’, cap?”

“I keep tellin’ you to stop callin’ me that,” Yondu said, brightening. “You’re the captain now, Krag. Don’t forget it.”

“How could I? Everyone’s always hollerin’ at me about somethin’,” Kraglin grumbled. “It’s hell, Yondu.”

“Welcome to life, boy,” Yondu snorted. “And watch your language, I got twig here with me.”

Kraglin’s voice immediately softened. “Oh, hey, Groot. How’s it goin’, bud?”

“I am Groot,” Groot nodded, clutching onto the edges of the holo-screen as if it would improve his chances of being understood. “I am Groot…I am Groot…I am Groot? I am Groot.”

“Uhh.” Kraglin paused. “What’d he say?”

“You think I know?” Yondu snapped. “I still don’t quite understand him yet. Getting there.”

“But you said Pete and Gamora, they can talk to ‘im now, right? Maybe you just gotta hang out with the kid more."

“How can I? He’s the most popular Guardian, no matter how much Quill pretends it’s him. Always being passed around from person to person, everyone wantin’ a piece of him. Must be exhausting.” Groot let out a whine of protest, reaching to pat Yondu on the face affectionately. Even Yondu could help but feel a little warmer at the sight of his large, dark eyes. It was hard not to.

“An’ how’s everyone else doing? All the, uh, holiday stuff Pete’s got going on?”

“Think the stress has finally passed,” Yondu commented thoughtfully, patting Groot on the back. “We got a Christmas tree inside the ship, ‘cause that’s apparently a thing Terrans do. We got presents, lots o’ sugar and sweets. Think we’ve finally settled with everything Quill insists we need.”

“You sure? He’s always been more of a last-minute kinda guy,” Kraglin chuckled. There was a soft thump that told Yondu he’d just leaned back in his chair, probably propped his boots up on the display like he always did.

“Gotta say, Quill’s been more responsible lately,” Yondu admitted. “Guess he’s learnin’ that being captain don’t mean he can just boss everyone around. But y’know, it’s weird having him tell me what to do.”

“You sayin’ you wanna come back to the Ravagers and take over for me?” Kragin joked, though something in his voice also seemed to imply that he might have been somewhat serious. It was hard to tell with the poor reception.

“Hell, maybe I can retire young. Return to the Eclector and do jack shi – um.” He eyed Groot guiltily, though the little one didn’t even seem to notice, scratching at a particularly itchy spot on his belly. “Nah, I’m okay where I am. This Guardians business, getting my criminal records wiped clean? Fresh start don’t sound like too bad an idea to me.”

“Already done with your thievin’ days, huh? Don’t let the other boys hear ya.”

“They might just kick my a – behind – if they did,” Yondu laughed. “Well, Quill’s looking out for all of us, but someone’s gotta look out for him. I know I ain’t his best friend anymore, but I still know him best.”

“Aw, come on, Yondu, you really gonna think like that?” Kraglin protested. “We ain’t kids no more. You can have more than one best friend. Me? I got two best friends. You and Pete.”

Yondu turned away from the screen for a moment so he could inhale sharply without the microphone picking it up, a lump in his throat beginning to form. These weekly talks with Kraglin were a relatively new thing, something they'd picked up ever since Kraglin first accepted the job as the new Ravager captain. It had started with Kraglin calling the Milano during his first week, desperate for advice on how to deal with the rowdy crowd he’d been left to handle. It had quickly turned into long chats about almost nothing at all, and it made Yondu feel both light on his feet and oddly morose at the same time.

Sure, life on Earth was pretty cushy compared to the life-or-death situations he’d run into as one of the youngest Ravager captains in the history of the galaxy, but there was something really captivating, exhilarating, even, about the simple days of do-or-die. He missed the days of when he, Peter, and Kraglin were growing up together on the Eclector under Stakar’s watchful eye. Peter constantly getting into trouble trying to explore the private areas of the ship, Kraglin trying his best to pretend he wasn’t terrified at the prospect of being caught, while Yondu was probably the one to perpetrate the act of poking around in the first place. Even the mundane things, like doing chores or eating breakfast together, were things he wouldn’t quite be able to do ever again.

“Cap? You there? You gone all silent.”

“I said not to call me that anymore,” Yondu said hoarsely. Groot was snuggling into his shoulder in an attempt to reassure him. “Krag?”

“Yeah?”

“You, uh...you really sure you don’t wanna join me here on Terra? It’s got decent food and mighty fine women,” he suggested slowly.

“You know me, Yondu, I don’t got the brains for school,” Kraglin replied. Yondu could almost picture the self-deprecating smile.

“You’re smart, boy, don’t say that,” Yondu protested. “Hell, I thought the same of Quill, look at ‘im now. He’s been getting pretty decent grades, making good choices. That could be you, too.”

“I ‘ppreciate it, Yondu, but I’m good where I am.”

“I guess I, uh...I just miss you, is all. Haven’t seen your ugly mug in a while.” Yondu coughed awkwardly. “Say something, Krag, don’t make this weirder than it hasta be.”

“I miss you too.” He sounded choked up. Groot patted the console like he was trying to reach through to physically comfort Kraglin. They had only met a handful of times, but Kraglin was just as fond of Groot as pretty much everyone else was. “Hey, maybe I’ll convince the guys to drop ‘round Terra sometime and come see ya. Give us a tour of the planet or somethin’.”

“It’s a damn big planet, boy, won’t be easy.” Yondu tried picturing the Ravagers roaming the streets of New York City. Somehow, he couldn’t see that ending well, though the idea of them wandering through Times Square wearing “I Heart NY” ballcaps and chowing down on hot dogs made him laugh.

“We got time.”

“Right.” Yondu sniffled again. “I don’t know if it’s all of Quill’s yammerin’ on about being sentimental this time o’ year, but I’d like to move on past this sappy crap. Did ya finally evict that idiot? What’s-his-face?”

“Oh, Taserface,” Kraglin snickered. “Yeah. Threw a huge fit, but I got everyone on my side. There was this moment where he was tryna explain his name to us, said it was metaphorical…” ______

“Do we hafta go to this shindig?” Rocket complained. “I got a new gun I wanna work on.”

“You always have a new gun you wanna work on,” Gamora snorted as she strolled out of Peter’s bedroom, barefoot, holding a pair of heeled steel-toe boots in one hand and her utility bel in the other. She was wearing a silky black jumpsuit that Mantis had insisted she wear for the occasion, and was now struggling on where to stash her weapons. “Never thought you’d be hesitant about attending a social function that involves alcohol.”

“It ain’t even gonna be that busy,” Rocket replied. “Most everyone’s gone home ‘til school starts again.”

“How ‘bout this?” Peter emerged from his room as well, looking somewhat uncomfortable in a too-tight dress shirt (though Gamora wasn’t complaining) and oxfords that pinched his toes. “We go for an hour, we mingle, dance a little bit, and then come back and go do whatever we want.”

“If we do not go at all, Janet will be quite upset,” Mantis added.

“I would prefer not to face her wrath, so I’m inclined to agree with Quill,” Drax nodded.

“Fine, but if it ain’t open bar, you’re paying for all my drinks,” Rocket said, jabbing a claw in Peter’s general direction. He shrugged in defeat before turning towards Gamora.

“Do I look okay?” he asked as the others began dispersing to grab their coats. “This is definitely too tight. But I don’t have anything else for some reason.” She smiled teasingly, stepping closer to rest her hands on his shoulders.

“Doesn’t make for a bad view,” she drawled. “And I think I’ll just take the one blade tonight.” She held up the multi-tool he’d gifted her for their fake one-month anniversary, twirling it deftly between her long fingers. “I’m not expecting anything dangerous to happen, after all. I suppose the most exciting thing that could possibly happen is if you get drunk and puke on someone’s feet. Again.”

“I’m not planning on drinking tonight, actually,” Peter said as they both sat on the couch, pulling their shoes on. “I was hoping to hang out with you after we get back. Y’know, if you want.”

“Oh?” Gamora eyed him suspiciously. “What did you have in mind?”

“A movie?” he suggested. “If it’s just you and me, maybe A Christmas Story, but if Groot wants in, definitely A Charlie Brown Christmas. He’d love it.”

“Why don’t we have Groot join us then? It’s been a while,” she said. Then she leaned in, whispering, “We can always kick him out of our bed later.”

“Our bed, huh? I like where your mind’s at,” he grinned as they got to their feet. “Everyone ready?”

The Christmas Eve party was being held in the Avengers Dorm common area, hosted by the effervescent Janet van Dyne as always. It was a reasonably large room that had been cleared of most of its furniture in favor of a DJ booth (with Vision at the helm) and a buffet table with drinks and snacks. There was, of course, an incredibly tall Christmas tree set up next to the fireplace, glittering with red and gold decorations, garland and string lights dangling from every wall and ceiling beam, and of course, mistletoe in every doorway, making every student a little twitchy.

I don’t want a lot for Christmas…there is just one thing I need…

“Of course this is the song playing right now,” Peter chuckled as they entered the room, shaking his head. “I think this just plays on loop in Janet’s head all December.”

As if she’d heard him, Janet popped up seemingly out of nowhere, decked out in a poofy red-and-green dress, complete with Santa hat and, for some reason, a red feather boa. She was nothing if not over-the-top festive. “Hey!” she squealed. “Guardians, I’m so glad you came! It wouldn’t be a party without you.”

“Yes, where’s the alcohol? I’d like to forget that I was ever here,” Nebula interjected impatiently. Gamora pinched her in retaliation.

“I’ve got Steve on alcohol bodyguard duty,” Janet replied, gesturing towards the kitchenette. Captain America was indeed standing in front of the comically small fridge, arms folded sternly as if he were protecting some sacred item of worship (though on a college campus, free alcohol was probably the next best thing). “We’ve got a lot of younglings this year, can’t take our chances. That includes you, Groot!” Groot hopped from Rocket’s shoulder to Janet’s outstretched hands, letting out a happy squeal at the sight of his friend. “I’m trying to get pictures of everybody by the tree – for next year’s yearbook, you know? – and I’m also hoping for some shots under the mistletoe. Peter, Gamora, if you would be so kind – ”

“Janet,” Gamora groaned. “You already have a good dozen photos of us, is another really necessary?”

“Another one’s not gonna kill us,” Peter whispered softly in her ear. “Remember, the real number one rule of this school – don’t piss off Janet.”

“Fine, but you better get me a spare key to the gym before school starts, I’m increasing my training time now that I’m also teaching,” Gamora said to Janet, twisting her mouth in displeasure.

“You got it!” Janet said cheerfully, tugging her by the arm towards the closest tuft of mistletoe, and subsequently dragging Peter along with them.

The rest of the Guardians exchanged dubious looks before shrugging and dispersing. With her sister gone, Nebula stalked over to the fridge, giving Cap her best stink eye. “Move.”

“You could ask nicely,” Steve suggested. “And pullin’ out a knife won’t work on me. Been there, dealt with that.”

“Listen, you star-spangled di – ”

“Nebula!” She jumped at the sound of her own name, whipping around to see Mantis standing behind her. “All you have to do is say ‘please’. You always complicate things for yourself.” Mantis stepped a little closer, smiling warmly at Steve. “Drax and Rocket have requested I get a couple beers for them, if you would please.”

“Sure.” He handed them off to her, giving Nebula a pointed look as he did so. For all his clean-cut looks, he certainly was braver than the majority of the campus population. Most people tried their best to avoid any sort of eye contact. “Nebula?”

Nebula glared at him. “I’ll have a beer as well. Please.” Mantis nodded her approval, smiling encouragingly as he passed her another cold can. “Well, this has been pointless.” With that, she turned around and stomped off as angrily as she had arrived. Steve, who had seen just about everything, only raised an eyebrow in response.

“She is a work-in-progress,” Mantis whispered conspiratorially. “Pay no mind.”

He simply chuckled in return. “Nothing I haven’t seen before. But keep up the good work, Mantis. She’ll come around someday.” As if she’d overheard, there was a loud commotion not too far away. Their heads turned to find Nebula glaring at Daisy Johnson, who was shaking quite literally. “Um, maybe you should intervene before Quake causes a, well…quake.”

Before Mantis could move, however, Gamora peeled herself away from Peter, having also overheard Nebula’s snarls. “Well, that can’t be good,” she muttered to him before practically sprinting across the room. “Hey, Nebula! Nebula!”

“What?” she snapped, rounding on her sister instantly. Daisy took the opportunity to slink off, eyeing her surroundings carefully as she ducked back into the crowd. “What do you want?”

Gamora blanched a little. “You were fine before we left, did something happen?”

“Do I really need a reason to be angry?” Nebula cracked open her beer can and took a generous gulp. It vaguely reminded Gamora of when Valkyrie was in a bad mood. Or a good mood, really.

“Yes, actually. Because you can’t just go around acting like you don’t care when clearly, something is wrong,” Gamora hissed. “You can’t fool me, Neb, and you can’t avoid me either. So you might as well confess.”

“I have nothing to confess, Gamora. You’re starting to inherit Quill’s ability to invent drama when there is none.” Another sip.

It was interrupted by Gamora promptly grabbing her by the arm and yanking her into a secluded corner, shooing away the couple that had been making out there previously. They looked ready to argue until they realized who they were confronted with, and quickly ran off without a sound. “I’m not inventing drama, I’m reading the signs. You need to stop acting like I’m the enemy, because I’m not.” She paused, thinking back on the period of their lives in which they had been nothing but enemies to each other. She shuddered at the idea of it ever happening again. “Not anymore. I’m on your side, Nebula, I always am. So if something’s bothering you, just come out and say it.”

Nebula folded her arms across her chest, sloshing her beer around a little as she did, letting out a long exhale of utter defeat. “What is it with everyone wanting to discuss my feelings lately? Does it matter?”

“Yes, because what you want and feels matters to me, and it should matter to you as well,” Gamora said pleadingly, clasping her hands over Nebula’s tightly folded ones. “Are you not tired of being mad all the time? Or wishing that the things that happened never did? I have…cried, some nights, thinking about what we’ve gone through, but I don’t want to anymore. I’m tired of being tired. And I want to be at peace with myself, with what I’ve done. It’s the only way I can carry on with my life. And I want that for you, too.”

Nebula sighed again, though she gave her the tiniest of smirks. “Relax, sister. My feelings don’t run that deep. At least, not this time around. I just…I find it interesting. How similar you and I are. But this school values you so much more than it does me. Our classmates are all convinced of your greatness as a warrior and as a friend, yet refuse to make eye contact with me when I walk by. Like there’s some great allure to your existence, while I repel people.”

“You have to admit, Nebula, you aren’t the friendliest of people,” Gamora said, relaxing. Maybe she was finally going to get somewhere with her. “And I don’t blame you. We have every right to be wary of who and what to trust. But we’ve been here long enough – maybe it’s time to decide who you think is worth your attention.”

“The only person whose opinion I value is…well.” Nebula awkwardly waved a hand in Gamora’s general direction, causing her eyes to widen in surprise. Even the implied admittance was something that truly seemed like a holiday miracle. “I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised. Terrans don’t seem all that inclined to understanding the nuance of our personal histories. There are probably some who still fear us.”

“And we should pay no matter to them,” Gamora said, reaching to grab Nebula’s free hand and squeezing tightly. “Come on, let’s go socialize for just a moment. Standing around in the corner like this won’t bode well for our reputations. Maybe you can talk to Valkyrie? If there’s one thing she likes talking about incessantly, it’s a good fight. I bet you'd like to hear about her time on Sakaar.”

And just like that, the designated hour flew by without notice, at least, until Peter approached the group of women he knew to never cross unless he wanted to die an early death (among them being Valkyrie, Elektra, Carol, and of course, Janet), gently tapping Gamora on the shoulder. “Hey, you ready to go?”

“I certainly am,” Nebula said, her voice as droll and monotonous as ever, though it lacked the usual hostility that came with it. Peter swore he could also see the beginnings of a genuine smile. Either that, or she was more inebriated than she’d like to admit.

“Wait!” Janet exclaimed. “One moment, before you leave.” Gamora and Nebula exchanged dubious looks before the other girl returned, hefting quite the number of boxes that dwarfed her relatively small frame. “If you don’t want me to buy you presents next year I’ll totally respect that, but since it’s your first winter holiday on Earth, I just had to get you all a little something.”

“Uh. Little?” Peter held out his arms so Janet could unload them, his knees buckling slightly under the sheer weight of the packages. He could never understand how such a tiny girl could be so strong, with or without her Pym particles. “Thanks, Janet, this is really awesome of you,” he said, breath coming in short. He was certainly going to have a backache by the time they returned to the ship. With a patented eye roll, Gamora grabbed a few off the top of the pile and strolled off towards the exit. “Thanks, Gamora!” he called after her retreating back. Nebula merely snorted and disappeared to go find the others.

“Happy Christmas Eve, Peter,” Janet said cheerfully. “I hope you and the Guardians had a good time tonight. Between you and me, even Nebula seems to be in the holiday spirit.”

“It’s weird, right?” Peter chuckled. “But hey, I ain’t complaining. Nothing’s better than a happy team, especially when said team members could totally decapitate me or something, I mean, you should see their weapon cache, it’s crazy – ”

“I’ll see you around, Star-Lord,” Janet laughed, interrupting him mid-ramble to pat him on the shoulder and vanish into the crowd.

Once the Guardians had returned to the Milano and went their separate ways, Peter and Gamora curled up in Peter’s bunk, Groot sprawled out across Peter’s belly, as A Charlie Brown Christmas played from the projector on his holo-tab. “So I’ve been told Nebula’s doing better with people. Marginally.”

“We had a discussion of sorts,” Gamora said with a shrug. “But then again, we seem to be having said discussion every day. If anything, she’s probably giving in just so I stop bothering her about it. It’s progress, I suppose.”

“As long as you never give up on her,” he said, rubbing her shoulders reassuringly. “But I know you won’t. You always get the job done no matter what. She’ll come around eventually.”

She smiled up at him. “I’m always astounded by the amount of faith you have in me,” she murmured softly. “I don’t think I could trust myself that much.”

“I wish you would. And you’ve never given me reason to think otherwise.” He leaned downwards to kiss her briefly. Groot let out a tiny cooing noise at the sight from his vantage point against Peter’s chest. “But also, I’ll be the first to admit I’m totally biased.”

“As long as it’s not blind faith, I’ll gladly accept it.” She grinned before settling back down against his side, turning back towards the screen. “So why was it called Peanuts, exactly?” ______

“PETER! IT IS SNOWING AGAIN! YOU SHOULD COME SEE!”

Groaning, Peter slowly lifted his head up from the pillow, blinking blearily into the darkness of his room. “Whattimeisit?”

“Early.” Gamora’s face was still half-smushed into the other pillow, her hair splayed out across the sheets and tickling his nose. Hell, if she was still sleeping, then it was most definitely too early. They often joked that her morning alarm was an attempt to beat the sunrise. “Want me to take care of it?”

“Well, it is Christmas.” He smiled sleepily at her.

Sighing, Gamora rolled over to face the general direction of the bedroom door and hollered, “GO BACK TO BED, MANTIS! IT’S TOO EARLY FOR THIS!” She turned back to snuggle into Peter’s side, draping an arm across his front. “Done.”

“GAMORA, WHAT YOU YELLIN’ FOR?”

“YEAH, WE’RE TRYNA SLEEP HERE!”

“I DO NOT APPRECIATE BEING UP THIS EARLY WHEN WE HAVE NO CLASSES OR MISSIONS TO ATTEND TO - ”

“Shit.” Peter let out a delirious laugh into the pillow as he pulled her closer. “We’re never getting back to sleep at this point.”

“Speak for yourself,” Gamora mumbled, drifting off once again.

Eventually, at a more acceptable time of morning (when it could correctly be referred to as morning, and not, as Yondu so delicately put it, “the ass-crack of dawn”), the two of them made their way into the common area, pleased to be greeted with the welcome smell of fried eggs and fresh coffee, handled by Drax and Mantis respectively. Yondu was sprawled across the entire length of the couch, twirling his arrow between his fingers, while Nebula was sitting on the floor with her back against the side of the armchair, staring off into nothing. Rocket and Groot were at the dining table, looking over the schematics of the gun Rocket had been working on last night.

“Morning,” Mantis chirped happily as if she hadn’t interrupted everyone’s sleep not four hours ago. “Coffee? Eggs? Bacon? Hashbrowns?”

“The correct answer is ‘all of the above’,” Peter replied, grabbing a plate. “Also, seriously, what was up with you this morning?”

“Sorry,” Mantis said sheepishly as she began carefully pouring out two steaming mugs of coffee. “It just looked so pretty with the sunrise coming in, I thought we might want to do those activities you spoke of before. Snow angels and snowmen, correct?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He sipped contemplatively after passing Gamora her cup. “All the snow we've been getting has been nothin' but hard ice. Maybe with today’s fresh snow, it’d finally be soft enough for us to do that stuff.” He turned to address the rest of the room. “Hey, guys, how do you feel about delaying opening our presents a little longer and heading outside instead?”

“Wasn’t looking to freeze my butt off,” Yondu said, frowning. “What you on about, Quill?”

“Well, you guys know that I wanted to go all out on Christmas traditions this year,” Peter said thoughtfully. “So maybe after breakfast, we could go play in the snow. Might be our only chance before it freezes over.”

“I am Groot?”

“Yes, and then presents, I promise,” Peter nodded, settling down at the dining table with his food. “Aw, Rocket, you’re really working on a holiday?”

“Holidays don’t mean squat to me,” Rocket shrugged. “I like workin’ on this stuff, you know that. Besides, once all this snow goes away and we can finally go on jobs and make money again, the baddies won’t know what hit ‘em. Here, take a look.”

“Save it for tomorrow, Rocket, and have some breakfast.” Gamora set a full plate down in front of Rocket with a little more vigor than necessary. “We’ll look at it, I promise. But let’s just take the day for us. We all deserve it.”

“Since when’re you the biggest cheerleader of ‘em all? You hate having no plans,” Rocket said, eyeing her suspiciously, though he did accept the fork she gave him, digging into his food happily, letting out a noise of satisfaction as he did. Drax was surprisingly adept at cooking Terran cuisine, while Peter had only just recently learned how to stop burning his grilled cheese sandwiches.

“Ever since Quill infected her.” Nebula slinked over to the kitchen, smirking. Mantis’s eyes widened a little, her cheeks burning, before she wordlessly handed her a plate. “Still, I suppose it could be worse. This campus is crawling with narcissistic optimists, so Quill is relatively mild in comparison.”

“I’ll take it,” Peter said through a mouthful of hashbrowns.

“Excuse me for wanting to believe in something for once,” Gamora said dryly. “The idea of going out in the snow sounds enjoyable enough. I thought you’d be happy I’m not insisting on doing drills or fight training today.”

“Oh, trust me, I ain’t complaining, just curious,” Rocket said, grinning at her so genuinely that she was taken aback. She finally sat down as well, on Peter’s right, smiling fondly when he reached under the table to squeeze her leg in greeting. Rocket’s face twisted once more in response. “Aw, come on, can’t you go five seconds without playing footsie?”

“I’m just saying hi,” Peter protested.

“Yeah, sure, then ‘hi’ turns into kissin’, and nobody wants to see that,” he grumbled, stabbing at his eggs. Mantis’s eyebrows shot up in concern, her antennae attuned to the downturn in everyone's mood. She smoothly slid into the seat next to Rocket, giving him a warning glance.

“Peter, Rocket and I were having a chat last night after we came back, about some of the devices he has been working on?” she said as casually as she could, hoping he couldn’t hear the nervous thump of her heartbeat as she began to lie through her teeth. “He said some of the parts he needs are likely on Halfworld. Perhaps we should prioritize a supply run once the snow has melted.”

“You sure you wanna go back to Halfworld, dude? Didn’t sound so fun when you described it to us,” Peter said curiously.

“Yeah, man, it’s no big deal. I just need a crap ton of things that I’m almost a hundred percent sure are on Halfworld. It’ll be like, three days max.” Rocket shot Mantis a grateful look when Peter turned back to his food.

“Then sure, I’ll add it to the itinerary. But hey, no more shop talk, okay? Like Gamora said, the day’s for us and nothin’ else.”

“You got it, Quill,” Yondu called from the couch. He was attempting to eat lying down, the plate balanced delicately on his stomach. “That’s practically my life’s motto.”

After breakfast was over, the Guardians bundled up as best they could, including Groot, who had received a custom-made coat and wool hat from Janet about a month ago, making him somewhat resemble a jumbo-sized marshmallow. They carefully made their way off the ship, wincing a little at the amount of snow that had already settled over the Milano and was sure to freeze over later. Still, they soldiered on down the loading bay and out onto the open field nearby, the satisfying crunch of their boots filling up the silence of the relatively empty campus.

Giddy, Mantis immediately began twirling about, sticking out her tongue to catch the flakes as they fell. Peter jogged over to join her, grabbing her hands and spinning her around in an improvised swing dance. “It’s so pretty,” Mantis giggled as they came to a stop. “I did not know it could be so soft!”

“All the snow we’ve been getting so far has been pretty unforgiving until now.” Peter bent to begin clearing out a small area for them to work in. “So, let’s do it, guys! Snowmen! Er, snowpeople. And snow raccoons. And…snow…trees.”

“And how do we make these ‘snowpeople’ you speak of?” Drax asked.

“You just use the snow, dude! You can make it as fancy as you want, or you can just roll up a bunch of huge snowballs, stack ‘em, add a couple sticks for arms, and call it a day,” Peter shrugged. “Watch.”

The others stepped back as Peter rolled out an enormously dense ball of snow, humming along with the music quietly streaming out of his headphones. He pushed it perfectly into place over the area he had cleared and proceeded to stack two more on top. Peter sang under his breath as he used a small branch to carve out the details, starting with the seams of his favorite jacket and pair of jeans. Already, its resemblance was obvious, even without a face.

“Interesting,” Gamora commented, cocking her head sideways to better observe Peter’s handiwork. “Alright, I’m in. Guardians?”

“Sure, as long as Quill shares his music. All the crunchin’ noises the snow's making is gonna give me a headache,” Rocket complained.

“Gladly,” Peter grinned, setting the Walkman down on the nearby bench and cranking up the volume.

Imagine me and you, I do...I think about you day and night, it's only right….to think about the girl you love and hold her tight...so happy together…

For the next hour, the Guardians proceeded to make snowpeople of their own, occasionally running off in search of things like pebbles and branches to complete their work. Even Groot got in on the action, setting up a tiny snow-Groot of his own next to Rocket’s creation, which ended up being the same height as him. “I am Groot?” he asked Rocket.

“No, no, don’t grow out your fingers and break ‘em off for arms, that’s a terrible idea," Rocket scolded. “Just grab some twigs from that tree over there like the rest of us."

If I should call you up, invest a dime...and you say you belong to me and ease my mind...imagine how the world could be, so very fine...so happy together…

“Mantis, you seem to have quite the artistic touch,” Drax said, not even bothering to hide his surprise as he observed Mantis carving out a near-perfect recreation of her own facial features. “It looks almost exactly like you.”

“Disgusting?” she teased, flicking some snow in his direction. Drax frowned, scooping up a little bit of snow himself and flinging it at her in return. Squealing, Mantis ducked behind her snowperson before pelting another snowball back. “Drax!”

Before the others could blink, Mantis and Drax had suddenly found themselves in an all-out snowball fight, sprinting around the snowpeople and nearly tripping over themselves in an attempt to run and scoop up snow from beneath their feet at the same time. Rocket immediately ducked to grab Groot before he could get trampled on, while Nebula rolled her eyes and continued on with perfecting the frown on her snowperson’s face with pebbles. She was never going to admit how long she had spent searching for the best ones.

“Wait, guys - ” Peter proceeded to join in, laughing wildly as Mantis tackled him to the ground a mere thirty seconds later. “G’mora - Yondu - Rocket - guys, join us - ”

“Ple-e-e-ease,” Mantis begged, getting up off of Peter and tugging on Gamora’s sleeve. Sighing, Gamora gave in, scooping up a snowball of her own and smushing it right onto Peter’s face. “Yay!”

“Mercy, mercy,” Peter spluttered through a faceful of ice. He could already feel his eyelashes freezing over. “Can we partner up instead of having a free-for-all so we don’t end up killing each other? Gamora, you wanna be on my team?”

“Always,” Gamora smirked, holding out a hand so she could hoist Peter to his feet. With that, everyone proceeded to break off into pairs - Drax and Mantis, Yondu and Nebula, who somehow agreed to work together by process of elimination, and even Groot got in on the fun once Rocket told him he was in charge of making snowballs (“And nothin’ else, I don’t need you getting hit in the face today!”).

Peter and Gamora took off first, ducking behind a particularly large oak tree, while the others spread out across the field. “So, what’s our plan of attack?” Peter said breathlessly, peering out from around its stump. Nebula was currently hanging off of Drax’s back, her arms wrapped around his neck as Drax spun around in an attempt to shake her off like a dog, while Yondu was pelting him repeatedly in the chest. Groot was running for cover behind his little snow-Groot.

“Depends on whether we want to ambush everyone at once, or pick them off team by team,” Gamora replied, beginning to vigorously pack a stack of snowballs. “I’m faster, but you have better aim.”

“If we take ‘em out one-by-one, that’ll give the others time to find our hiding spot. You throw, I’ll make,” Peter decided, grinning stupidly. He had never felt like such a little kid all over again until now, overeager and easily excitable. Being surrounded by the people he loved most in the galaxy only made it more exhilarating.

He quickly began scooping and shaping, while Gamora watched the chaos developing further out on in the open, seemingly unaware that she and Peter had disappeared. There was something comforting, almost, watching the Guardians attack each other with harmless snowballs instead of cutting each other with words, something they did far too often. She was guilty of it herself, verbally picking and scratching at everyone else’s problems and insecurities as a way to ensure their compliance (or occasionally, silence). But now, all she saw was her friends whooping and laughing enthusiastically as snow and ice flew about everywhere. Even Nebula seemed to be enjoying herself, though she wasn’t quite as vocal as the others, smirking as she rained absolute hell on Rocket, who didn’t seem to mind for once, returning fire with a giant grin on his face.

“Ready,” Peter said triumphantly, presenting her with what had to be at least fifty little spheres of neatly packed ice. Gamora folded herself into sniper’s position, lying on her belly while propped up on her elbows. She eyed the others speculatively, before picking up the first snowball and flinging it with all her might.

“Ow!” Drax roared, whipping about, trying to figure out who had just hit him square in the eye. He had no time to go looking, however, as the next snowball had landed in his mouth. Yondu barely had five seconds to burst into laughter before three snowballs landed neatly on his fin, causing him to yelp like a small child in surprise.

Within thirty seconds, Gamora managed to obliterate the others, now all collapsed on the ground in a panting heap. Even Groot looked tired, and he hadn’t even been involved in the fight. Smirking, Gamora turned back over to lean onto the tree trunk to look at a slack-jawed Peter. “How did I do?”

“Freaking amazing, that’s how,” Peter said, crawling towards her and wrapping his arms tight around her midsection. “We make an awesome team, don’t we?”

“Always,” Gamora repeated, allowing him to pull her back down into the snow as he kissed her enthusiastically, yelping a little when the sides of their faces ended up hitting the snow. Peter’s already-rosy cheeks were getting increasingly pink, the tip of his nose reddening as well. Gamora began rubbing his face with her gloved hands to warm him up, chuckling softly as he began nuzzling into her neck like a cat. “You’re such a child, Peter Quill. But I can’t say I mind all that much.”

“Because you love me,” he sing-songed, tilting his head up to meet her eyes. They were glittering with pure, unadulterated joy.

“Somehow, yes, you ridiculous child.” She leaned in, kissing him again. “Are you done demanding that I vocalize my affection now, or do you need more praise before I get to properly warm you up?” In lieu of a response, Peter pulled her in even closer, deepening the kiss.

I can't see me lovin' nobody but you...for all my life…when you're with me, baby the skies'll be blue...for all my life…

“Aw, gross. Shoulda known it was you that got us all,” Yondu chortled. Reluctantly, Peter and Gamora turned to look up at their friends who had surrounded them in a circle, slightly disgruntled, flushed, and covered in slush, but mostly glowing with happiness. “Well, if we can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.”

“What’s that s’posed to - ah!” Peter yelped as the others proceeded to throw themselves down on top of him and Gamora, resulting in Nebula’s sharp elbow in his gut and Drax’s knee landing on his crotch. Groot let out a happy cheer as he nested himself in Gamora’s scarf, cooing happily, while Mantis was sprawled out at the top of the pile, her giggling becoming increasingly delirious. “Dra-a-ax, you’re heavy as hell.”

“Mantis suggested group hugs would contribute to team morale. Do not single me out for my enormous muscle mass. I will not be shamed for my body, which is in impeccable condition,” Drax frowned.

“I just like hugs,” Mantis hummed happily, kicking her feet in the air.

“I am Groot,” Groot agreed.

“Fine, but we’re only staying here for two minutes, or else we’re going to freeze up and die. Then we’ll all be snowpeople,” Gamora said sternly, though she softened a little when Peter moved to kiss her again. His lips were ice cold, but she felt no need to stop him, as unappealing as it seemed.

Rocket made another gagging noise before turning back towards the field. “Uh, guys...about the snowpeople…”

Everyone turned their heads in the direction Rocket was looking, only to realize that their creations had been the real casualty of their battle. They were covered in boot marks and imprints of the bodies that had fallen on them, utterly crushed to bits, splintered pieces of “arms” and scattered pebbles lying at their bases as if to signify the fallen soldier of their respective owners.

“Oh well,” Peter shrugged. “There’s always next time.”

So happy together...how is the weather...so happy together...we're happy together…

Once everyone had retreated back to the safety and (relative) warmth of the Milano, Gamora and Mantis began grabbing towels and extra blankets from the supply closet, with Gamora insisting everyone dry off and change before finally getting around to opening presents. Drax began making hot chocolate on the stove, while Peter pulled up the holo-screen and started playing Frosty the Snowman to keep Groot occupied while they waited.

“Peter? Why are there so many presents under here?” Gamora began poking around at the pile of boxes underneath the tree. She wasn’t sure when they had amassed to such an amount, but it had become something of a small mountain. “I know those are Janet’s back here…some from Stark…these are the ones for me from Natasha and Elektra and Val…but what’s all this?”

Peter turned away from the screen to join her by the tree, smiling at the sight of the hand-written ornaments they’d worked on not too long ago. His favorite was the one where Mantis had written “MY NEW FAMILY” in large, looping letters, surrounded by little hearts. “My current theory? Everyone kinda ignored Secret Santa and just got everyone else presents, too. I mean, that’s what I did.”

“As did I,” Gamora confessed. She couldn’t help it – shopping for her Secret Santa had only led to her seeing at least half a dozen things she wanted to buy for everyone else. “But doesn’t that ruin the intention of giving gifts to only one person?”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” he said with a shrug. “Tradition’s tradition, but doesn’t mean we gotta stick to it, word-for-word. And hey, more presents for everyone. Can’t complain about that.”

“No, I suppose not,” Gamora replied, smiling. She turned to address the rest of the room. “Is everyone ready? Drax?”

He briskly strolled into the living room with a tray of steaming mugs of hot chocolate, wearing the gag apron Peter had gotten him for his birthday (it proclaimed in bright red letters across the chest: “kiss the chef”). “Yes, let us proceed,” Drax said proudly as he began distributing marshmallows into the drinks. Peter made a grab for the “World’s Best Dad” cup and passed Gamora the one that said “I Hate Mugs with Funny Slogans” (she really, really did). “Who will go first?”

“I think Peter should. After all, he is the one who encouraged all of these festivities,” Mantis suggested.

“I can get on board with that,” Gamora said as she settled onto the couch. “Besides, he’ll go crazy in anticipation otherwise. So, who was responsible for his gift?”

“Me,” Rocket said, raising a paw. “It don’t look like much until I explain it to you.” He passed Peter one of the tiniest boxes, a small rectangle the size of a paperback, wrapped in butcher’s paper and tied off with what was clearly some spare string he had lying around.

Peter ripped it open, curious about what Rocket meant, and opened the unassuming box inside. There, nestled in old newspaper, was an electronic device of some sort, vaguely resembling a remote. “Okay, I give. I can’t tell what it is. What’s it do?”

“I rewired a good chunk of the ship, including your precious tape deck,” Rocket explained, grinning so widely he was baring his canines. “That right there is a universal remote for the Milano. You wanna turn off the lights without walking around the whole ship? Pull down the holo-screen without getting up from the couch? Change the song playing on the tape? It’ll do it all. Genius, right?”

“Quill with remote access to the entire ship? Hoo boy,” Yondu winced.

“Rocket, I…thanks, dude!” Peter exclaimed, moving across the floor to pull Rocket into a giant hug. “This is awesome, man.” Rocket’s ears flattened at the sudden physical contact, before wrapping his arms around Peter’s neck as well, patting him awkwardly on the back. “I’m gonna use the crap outta this, trust me.”

“I’m already anticipating disaster. I’ll be sure to confiscate it if it becomes chaos,” Gamora muttered to Drax, who nodded sagely in agreement.

“I guess Rocket should be next then,” Peter said, sitting back down. “Who got Rocket’s present?”

“That would be me,” Gamora said. “Though I didn’t put it under the tree since it looks somewhat underwhelming. I promise it’s valuable, though.” She grabbed a small manila envelope from under the armchair and presented it to Rocket. “Go on, open it.”

Rocket eyed it doubtfully before breaking the seal on the envelope. Five small slips of paper fell into his lap, plain white paper with no special markings of any kind. The only thing on them, in Gamora’s neat handwriting, was the following:

GET-OUT-OF-MEETING-FREE CARD - ADMIT ONE

(Note: This does not apply to meetings pertaining to galaxy-wide emergencies. You don’t get to opt out of Thanos-level disasters, Rocket.)

“Considering you complain the loudest about my efforts to get everyone involved more than the others, I figured it would be a blessing for you to walk away without my interference,” Gamora added with a small chuckle. “I promise to say nothing more than ‘you’re dismissed’.”

“Gotta say, I was kinda skeptical at first, but I love it,” Rocket said happily, holding them up in triumph. “Thanks, Gam. You ain’t gonna see me at the next five monthly budget review meetings, that’s for sure.”

“I figured,” she laughed. “Just sign off on the ammo you need us to get and you’re in the clear.”

“I was responsible for your present, Gamora!” Mantis said excitedly, grabbing a lime green box with a matching ribbon bow on top. “I am hoping it will be of use to you.”

“I’m sure it will be,” Gamora said reassuringly. Unlike Peter and Rocket, she took care in peeling back the tape and untying the ribbon, neatly unfolding the wrappings to the point where Rocket was beginning to grow impatient again. “Oh, wow.”

Inside the box was what at first appeared to be just a small cube of soft black leather, no bigger than Gamora’s fist. However, once she picked it up, she realized it was tucked into itself at the corners. She began unfolding it, picking at the small strings and loops that held it together. When it was completely untangled from its own self, it was then that she recognized what it was – a brand new utility belt, complete with tiny pockets and a holster for her sword. Stitched on the inside of the front waistband was Gamora’s name in green thread that was a near-perfect match for her skin.

“What do you think?” Mantis asked nervously. “Since you are teaching fight classes in the new semester, I thought you might need a less bulky belt that would still allow you to store everything you would need, and something softer that would not weigh you down. Also, I hand-made it myself. I have been getting Janet to teach me how to sew for the past month.”

“Mantis, this is amazing,” Gamora said in a near-whisper, holding it up as if it were something precious – and to her, it was. “How did you figure out the loop-and-tie mechanism? It seems both intricate and effective.”

Mantis beamed, pleased. “It wasn’t easy,” she admitted. “But I’m so glad you like it.”

“Like it? I love it,” Gamora declared. “Thank you Mantis, it’s perfect.” She wrapped her arms around the younger girl, smiling when she felt Mantis let out a sigh of relief against her shoulder.

“And this is for you, bug-girl,” Yondu said with an unusual amount of fondness, handing her what appeared to be an old shoebox. Confused, Mantis accepted it, taking the lid off and setting it aside before gasping at the sight of its contents. “I sure hope that’s a good noise ya just made there.”

The shoebox contained stacks upon stacks of pictures, postcards, news clippings, and the like, from planets and star systems across the galaxy, places Mantis had only dreamed of seeing when she was a child. It was no secret that one of the biggest reasons she had joined the Guardians was to finally experience life outside of Ego’s planet, to meet new people, see new places, experience everything she had never gotten a chance to before. Of course, there were many planets they knew she would be unlikely to see, places where the Guardians would never be welcomed, but this was a good start.

“A little piece of most of the places us Ravagers have been. I even called up a few favors from the other factions, see what kinda trinkets they been collecting themselves,” Yondu smiled. “I know you got a lot of spirit in you, girl, you wanna see the world because you don’t know how crazy it can be quite as much as we do. But maybe this’ll give you an idea of what’s out there, the kinda fun you might get to have one day. Just ask Quill to take you there, he’s been to a bunch o’ those places. Have a good time.” Mantis sniffled as she began flipping through the documents, sighing happily at each new image. “Oh, no, you ain’t about to cry, are ya?”

“No,” she whimpered. Another strong inhale, this time rattling from her chest. “I still have some flu symptoms left.” Her bottom lip began to wobble. “But also, this is very kind of you. Thank you, Yondu!” Unable to contain her happiness no longer, she flung herself into Yondu’s arms, squeezing him so tightly he let out a rather undignified squeaking noise, unlike anything he’d ever made before.

“You got an iron grip, bug-girl, leggo,” he wheezed. She peeled away, giggling softly in apology before setting the box aside. “Alright, who was the unlucky fool who got stuck with me?”

“My present does not have a physical form,” Drax said, bowing his head. “So you will have to take my word for it, Yondu. But I noticed you have been quite glum lately, and were missing the company of your Ravagers. Groot told me after your last call to Kraglin that you were hoping to see them again soon. So, I made another call to Kraglin, and arranged for the Eclector to make a stop by Earth next week. I also got Director Fury’s permission. He will clear out space in the loading bay for them to land an M-ship and join us, along with excusing you from all your classes so you can take them around and show them your new home.”

Yondu blinked, at a loss for words. “R – really?” he stammered. Peter grinned – he’d never seen Yondu so flabbergasted before. “Boy, that’s…that’s mighty kind of you. You ain’t joking?”

“I would never joke about something so important to you,” Drax frowned. “I am not a cruel person.”

“No, you definitely ain’t,” Yondu agreed, clapping Drax on the back. “Thanks, Drax. Hey, maybe you could join us! I been telling the Ravagers a bunch of stories about good ol’ Drax the Destroyer. They’d be interested in meetin’ you.”

“I would be honored,” Drax replied, pleased, patting Yondu on the shoulder in return. He winced a little at the force of the impact.

“Is it finally my turn?” Nebula groaned. “I have been waiting for so long.”

“Nebula,” Gamora warned.

Ignoring her, Nebula pulled out a hastily-wrapped box from under the tree and shoved it into Drax’s arms. Without a word, she turned away from him, apparently in no rush to explain her present the way everyone else had done so far. Somewhat confused, he shrugged and tore open the packaging to find a set of wooden carvings that were hollowed out inside, complete with a sort of intricate scroll-like design around its opening. He turned them over, perplexed, and startling at the sight of a name engraved on the underside – Hovat. “What…what is this?”

Rolling her eyes, Nebula stalked over to him, yanked out one of his blades from his boot, grabbed one of the wooden pieces, and slid it perfectly onto its hilt. “Sturdier handles, you idiot. Hearing you complain about knuckle cramps day in, day out, because you don’t realize your knife handles aren’t perfectly balanced, is painfully annoying. I needed to put an end to it.”

“And Hovat’s name?”

“The engraving came free if you buy a set of two or more,” Nebula snapped. Peter was trying his hardest not to laugh – this was possibly the most aggressive act of gift-giving he had ever witnessed. “So? Do you like it or not?”

“It was very thoughtful of you, Nebula, thank you,” Drax said gently, a tearful smile beginning to form on his face. “I do like the idea of keeping my Hovat close by.” There was an awkward pause in which he considered whether to hug her or not, but then rightfully decided to avoid potentially losing his fingers in the process.

“Last but not least – drum roll, if you please – ” Mantis began enthusiastically drumming her hands on her legs “ – for you, Nebula.” Peter pulled out a key from his back pocket with a flourish and held it out to her.

“What the hell is this?” She snatched it up immediately, holding it to the light, expecting it to reveal further secrets.

“I know that all of us, me and Gamora especially, always bother you about being part of a team, part of a family, that kinda stuff. And you like being alone, which is totally fine. But the problem for you right now is, we know all your hiding spots, and we’re kinda guilty of tracking you down all the time. So, if you need somewhere to go where none of us can interfere, that key opens to the rooftop of the main library building. It’s in the middle of the campus so you can do all your weird people-watching, literally no one else has that key – not even Fury or any of the janitors – and I got it cleaned out. There was like, bird crap and tons of leaves up there. Anyways, that spot? It’s yours, and yours alone.”

“And you discussed this with her beforehand?” Nebula eyed Gamora suspiciously.

“No, actually, he didn’t. But I think it’s a good idea,” Gamora said softly. “We mean well, Nebula, but I know you like your solitude. I know I sometimes need a break from everyone, too. If it helps you deal with whatever’s going on in your head, take that key and put it to good use. But know that you can talk to us as well.”

Nebula swallowed. “Right. Uh, thanks, I guess.” She gave Peter the briefest of smiles, one that made him question if he had just briefly hallucinated. “I think I’ll be using this to get out of budget meetings as well.”

“I am Groot?” Groot looked up imploringly at the rest of the group, wondering what his present was going to be. Since Groot was the only one who couldn’t make money or really go shopping in the first place, he had been taken out of the running for Secret Santa, but he knew that the other Guardians had worked together to get him something, too.

“Well, Groot, y’know that room we have set aside for you when you’re more…humie-sized?” Rocket began, scooping him up. All the Guardians stood and walked down the corridor towards the bedrooms, where Peter unlocked said room and swung the door open wide for Groot to see. “We thought it was kinda stupid we haven’t been using this room for anything. Well, up until now. We got Stark to build you a little jungle gym in the meantime. Turns out he’s good for something after all.”

“It’s kinda based off of, like, hamster playsets. We’ve got tunnels going up to the ceiling, ladders, monkey bars, the whole nine yards,” Peter said proudly. Rocket set Groot down inside the room, watching as the little one stepped cautiously, his already-large eyes as wide as dinner plates.

“I am…Groot,” he breathed.

When Peter had first gone to Tony, requesting the jungle gym, he had stressed the importance of it not looking like Stark’s usual gadgets and gizmos – modern, metal, sleek and shiny – but rather like it had been built by bare hands and a bench, consisting mostly of carved wood. The bases were painted to look like tree stumps, the bridges and ladders consisted of wooden slats tied together with old rope, and the decorative pieces looked like winding spirals of vines and branches, like the kind that sprouted from Groot himself.

With an excitable shriek, Groot immediately began climbing up one of the ladders to the very top, peering down at them from the rope bridge. He waved at them eagerly before running around and around in circles, swinging across the monkey bars with ease. Mantis began filming him on her phone, cooing at the adorableness of it all.

“I am Groot,” he said happily, beaming.

“You’re welcome, man,” Rocket said, grinning back. “Now c’mon, the rest of us still got presents to open.”

The rest of the present opening was less of a dramatic affair, with everyone passing around wrapped packages in varying states of neatness while they sipped hot chocolate. Peter had turned on the radio for once instead of using his Walkman, letting the dulcet tones of Bing Crosby fill the room.

“Should’ve known this wasn’t going to go perfectly,” Gamora sighed as she crossed the room to settle into Peter’s side, watching as Nebula began presenting everybody else with garishly ugly socks. “She can’t help herself, can she? Regardless, I’d say it’s much better than last year. I was still finding bits of plasma in my hair a week after we returned from jail.”

“That was possibly the grossest mission we’ve ever been on,” Peter agreed. “So, I did end up getting you a present, by the way.”

“You buy me random trinkets so often I have nowhere to put them,” she teased, squeezing his waist affectionately. “What is it?”

“Well, you’ve been showing more interest in Terran culture lately, but you’ve only been seeing it from my perspective,” Peter explained. “And, y’know, as much as I like to pretend I know what’s going on, I know I’ve got a limited understanding of Earth. So I thought you would like to see it from a point of view that you’d identify with more.” He handed her a hardcover book – no wrappings or other fancies – watching her face nervously as she examined it.

“Bad Girls Throughout History - One Hundred Remarkable Women Who Changed The World,” she read slowly, eyes drinking in the hand-drawn illustrations. She fell silent as she read the description and flipped through it, her smile becoming softer with every page. “I guess this school doesn’t really delve too deeply into history outside of your world wars, does it?”

“And I figured if you wanted to learn more, badass Terran women would be a good place for you to start. I also got you a hundred dollars worth of store credit at that used bookstore in the city that you really like,” he added. “Do you like it?”

“I do, I really do,” she said, grinning as she kissed him. “Thank you, Peter. I’ll start reading it tonight. Oh, and I got you something as well.”

“What? Really?” He watched as she walked over to the tree and plucked out yet another tiny box, kneeling in front of him. “You didn’t have to, you know.”

“Did you really think I was going to get gifts for everyone else and not you?” she teased. “It barely cost me any units, so don’t worry. And I like taking part in your traditions, Peter, they intrigue me. So go on, open it.” He rubbed his hands together in excitement before removing the wrappings and the lid to unveil what was inside, eyes widening in shock when he realized what it was.

Nestled among neatly crinkled decorative tissue paper was a cassette tape, marked “For Peter”.

“Granted, we don’t share the same taste in music,” she continued. “Your music has grown on me substantially, however, so I compiled some of your favorites and some new things that should be to your liking.” Almost immediately, he pulled Gamora closer until she was practically straddling him, wrapping her tightly in his arms, burying his face in her neck. It had become his favorite place to be. She let out a surprised cry before returning the gesture with a soft laugh. “You haven’t listened to it yet, Peter, it could be awful.”

“You have no idea how much this means to me,” Peter murmured, kissing the crook of her jaw.

“I have an inkling.” She leaned back so she could gently slide the Walkman off his belt. “Here, give it a go.”

With slightly trembling fingers, Peter popped out the tape inside and slid the new one in, closing it with a satisfying snap. He slotted the headphones snugly over his ears before turning one side outwards so Gamora could hear what he was listening to. He took a soft breath for pause in anticipation, before pressing play.

Oh, I could hide 'neath the wings...of the bluebird as she sings...the six-o'clock alarm would never ring...but six rings and I rise...wipe the sleep out of my eyes...the shaving razor's cold and it stings…

Humming softly with the melody, Peter began drumming out the beat on the small of Gamora’s back with the pads of his fingers once the chorus began, apparently having no intentions of letting her go. She was fine with that – she’d gotten rather comfortable here, though she had a feeling the moment the other Guardian stopped arguing with each other over Nebula’s godforsaken socks, they would spot them and tease them once again.

Now you know how happy I can be...oh, and our good time starts and ends...without all I want to spend...but how much, baby, do we really need?...

“Not much, really,” he said quietly in response, grinning almost shyly. “I think I’ve got all I need right here on this ship.”

“Ever the romantic,” she said fondly, cupping his jaw and leaning in. “Happy holidays, Peter Quill.”

Cheer up sleepy Jean...oh, what can it mean...to a daydream believer and a homecoming queen?... ______

“Is there a reason we’re out here freezin’ our asses off? You tryna prank us, boy?” Yondu said through chattering teeth. He and Drax were having a rare moment of solidarity, huddled together underneath one of Yondu’s ostentatiously enormous fur-lined coats.

“It’s not my fault you didn’t wear enough. I told you where we were going,” Peter protested, though mostly because he didn’t want to give them the satisfaction that he, too, was beginning to lose feeling in his fingers and toes. Gamora, who wasn’t about to let Peter freeze to death or, more importantly, start yet another dick-measuring contest, practically shoved herself into his side, hoping her higher body temperature would warm him up before he started making excuses.

“That don’t explain things,” Rocket snapped. “What’re we doing, Quill? This can’t be another one of your holiday traditions, holiday’s over.”

“Uh, not quite,” Peter said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Tomorrow’s New Year’s Eve, when everyone makes these big declarations of how they’re gonna change in the new year. And I know Gamora likes it when we set goals and talk about what we wanna do about our future, so I thought we’d just, like, do it together. Talk about what we wanna do.”

“But did we have to do it on the roof?” Nebula exclaimed, kicking some fresh snow to punctuate her point, sending a gentle spray of ice flying over everyone’s laps.

The Guardians were indeed on the roof of the Avengers Hall, where they hadn’t been since Halloween night. It wasn’t snowing nearly as hard as it had been for most of the month, having slowed to a near stop, but it was still below freezing, leaving everyone a little cranky and worse for the wear.

As predicted, Christmas hadn’t magically solved all of the squabbles and fights they’d been having. Nebula and Rocket got into yet another spat over nothing, Groot had a tantrum when he accidentally broke one of the swings on his new gym set, and Drax became boorish, confronted with his memories of Hovat once more. Yondu was secretly too excited to see his boys again to really let anything bother him, and he stayed clear of everyone else’s paths. Peter and Gamora were still in relative romantic bliss (Peter insisted they were going to be in the so-called ‘honeymoon stage’ forever), aside from the time she had tripped over the jacket he had left on their bedroom floor and nearly banged her head on the corner of his desk. Still, they were a little less high-strung and snappish than usual, mellowed out for the most part (Gamora blamed it on the spiked eggnog. She wasn’t sure who to blame it on, but it certainly made Rocket and Yondu more agreeable than usual). Peter considered it to be a welcome change, even though he knew it was going to be temporary. The next major fight, a particularly stressful job or mission, was most definitely going to restore the Guardians’ status quo.

“Well, excuse me for wanting to have a nice moment,” Peter complained.

“I think it is a good idea,” Mantis piped up. “I have always said it is good for us to discuss these things together.”

“Thank you, Mantis,” Peter said triumphantly, as if her word declared the consensus of the entire group. “First on the agenda – I know these were supposed to be here earlier, but with Surtur tryna cause Ragnarok, and Hela coming after Thor here on Earth, Fury’s had his hands full. But better late than never.” He produced two envelopes from his knapsack and held them out to Yondu and Nebula. “Welcome to the Guardians of the Galaxy. I dunno why there needs to be paperwork, but, uh, just go with it.”

“I’ll be,” Yondu said cheerily, ripping it open and grinning in ecstasy at the official declaration. “Never thought it’d be the kinda gig I’d be offered, what with my reputation, but I ain’t complaining if it gets me units and fame.”

“C’mon, Yondu, we know that’s not all you’re about,” Peter chuckled, patting him on the back. “But congrats, dude. I’m proud of you.”

Nebula, however, was still staring at the envelope in her hands as if she were expecting it to spontaneously burst into flames. Gamora watched her cautiously for a moment before pulling away from Peter’s embrace to gently grasp her arm. “Nebula…I know I’ve been pressuring you a lot lately about being part of this team. But that choice is yours to make. If you prefer to just remain a student and not accompany us as a Guardian, I understand. It doesn’t mean we’ll kick you out or abandon you.”

“How did you accept it so easily?” Nebula’s voice was so quiet, only Gamora could hear. “Pretending to be a saint, and forgetting you were ever a sinner?”

“You sound like you’ve been talking to Murdock too often,” Gamora commented with a shake of her head. “I haven’t forgotten what I’ve done, Nebula. But I just want to move past it, and this is how I do it. Every planet that I help, every life that I save – and maybe this sounds selfish – it makes me feel better. It restores my faith in myself, and that’s where I need to start. I no longer feel the need to answer for what I did when I served Thanos, because this right here? This is my answer. My new purpose. And maybe it’s yours as well. But it doesn’t have to be.”

“Well, not that legality has ever stopped me before, but I suppose having it can’t hurt.” Nebula gave her a tentative smile before tearing the envelope open, staring at the neatly-typed print of her name at the very top, scanning over the brief paragraph that congratulated her on her official Guardian membership. “Quill, this doesn’t mean it gives you the right to tell me what to do.”

“Actually, that’s kind of exactly what it means,” Peter shot back. “Whether you listen is a different story.”

Nebula blanched at his response before smirking, somewhat impressed. “He bites back,” she snorted. “Maybe my sister didn’t choose so poorly after all. Alright then, Quill. How does this ‘resolution’ thing work?”

“Well, I was thinking we could each set one personal goal and one goal for the group,” Peter suggested. “Here, we’ll write it out.” He pulled out his holo-tab and opened a blank note, its large projector screen hovering in front of everyone’s faces. “Who wants to start?”

“Me,” Mantis said, waving a hand in the air enthusiastically like a schoolchild. “I do like helping you all with your feelings. I believe it is one of my greatest purposes here. But I have spent so much time assisting you, that I have not taken the time to understand myself. So I would like to spend more time focusing on who I am and who I want to be. Does that make sense?” She looked around at them, her eyes darting from person to person nervously. Drax patted her in reassurance, smiling encouragingly. “Um, and I think one thing we could do as a group is confront our problems right away. Many of the fights we have had are simply because of miscommunication. If we clarify our issues early on, then maybe they will not happen as often.”

“That’s a great idea, Mantis,” Gamora praised. “Granted, I don’t know if it’ll work, but there’s no harm in trying.”

“Is that you volunteering to go next?” Peter said with a quirk of his eyebrows as he finished typing Mantis’s suggestion.

“Fine,” Gamora said, though not before fixing him with a glare. “I want to have a more active role in this school’s community. I spent far too long in the first year of us being here wallowing in self-doubt, assuming everyone despised me. In reality, this planet has very little idea of my past. I don’t want to miss the opportunity for more allies in our eventual fight against Thanos, so maybe I need to take advantage of that. Besides, having friends doesn’t seem so bad after all,” she added with a chuckle. “As for the team…I’ve been saying for a while now, if we all just have stronger focus, stronger discipline, we won’t have as many issues. I wouldn’t lecture you all nearly as much as I do if you paid more attention. Look at Peter, for example. His productivity is much improved.”

“That’s probably ‘cause you got him wrapped around your finger, but okay,” Rocket snorted. “Alright, I’ll go next. I was thinkin’ about other ways to make some quick cash, make myself useful while we’re here, so I think I wanna offer up my services as an engineer. Teach other people how to fix their crap. Plus, that money’ll strictly be mine and I won’t have to share with you losers. And, it’ll piss off Stark. As for all of us…I dunno, if you guys can learn more about how to do quick fixes on the ship, that’d save me a lot of time. I can teach ya.” His eyes suddenly widened. “Wait, can I charge you guys for engineering tutorials?”

“No, Rocket,” Gamora said sternly. He muttered a couple choice nonsensical words under his breath in response, though nothing distinctive enough for her enhanced hearing to catch.

“Like Gamora, I like the idea of having more companionship in my life,” Drax said thoughtfully. He was twirling one of his blades absentmindedly, watching as Hovat’s engraved name spun over and over as he did. He knew he would never find one quite like her, but he didn’t have to. He didn’t want a replacement Hovat. Romantic pursuits were about the last thing on his mind, at least for now. “Perhaps I will reach out to the other warriors on campus, see if we are as like-minded as I hoped. Thor, Korg, Hulk…”

“You can all bond over having four-letter mononymous names,” Peter suggested. Gamora prodded him in warning. “Ow. I’m just saying.”

“In regards to the team…I must admit, I don’t spend as much time with you all as I would like,” Drax continued, ignoring Peter’s quip. “I think these traditions of yours, Quill…while they might seem strange to us, I suppose much of our culture also seems foreign to you. Such as my father’s story of impregnating my mother.” The others winced – it was frankly foreign to everyone. “But they also made me appreciate everyone more, not just as people to fight with, but as my family. I think we should engage in more non-combative activities to strengthen our bond.”

“It’ll be difficult with school and missions and the other craziness we’ve got going on, but I like where your mind’s at,” Peter replied, pleased.

“My mind is right where it has always been,” Drax said firmly.

“Right, my turn,” Yondu interrupted. “I aim to do better at school. I like the idea of getting my criminal record wiped clean, and that won’t happen if I keep skippin’ classes and filling out them Scantrons with nothin’ but A’s.”

“And answering every question that begins with ‘can you explain’ with ‘no’,” Gamora added.

“And nappin’ under the desk in the engineering labs,” Rocket continued.

“And writing my name on all of your essays!” Peter exclaimed. “Dude, I almost failed Criminology because of you. I’m not even taking Criminology!”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard ya,” Yondu grumbled. “Like I was sayin’ – I’ll try harder next semester. And I honestly got nothing for the rest of us to do, because you’ve all suggested just about everything already. I like Drax’s suggestion of more fun, though. That’s all I want outta life.”

“Fair enough,” Gamora nodded. “Nebula? Thoughts?”

“Well, you all appear to be on a self-improvement kick. How predictable,” Nebula snarked, turning around so her back was against the railing, arms folded firmly over her chest. Sitting on the snow-covered ground was starting to leave unflattering wet spots on everyone’s backsides. “I’ll just settle with figuring out my role on this team. I don't care to worry about the rest of you. I don't have the patience for it."

“Well, at least you’re honest,” Gamora sighed. “Groot?”

“I am Groot,” he suggested tentatively from his spot on Rocket’s shoulder. “I am Groot?”

“Fewer tantrums sounds awesome, dude,” Peter chuckled. “Am I the last one? Okay then, uh…I wanna be a better leader. I know I do a lot of talking, but I wanna listen more. At least, this talk we’re having right now, that’s a start, right? I just…I get so excited thinking about what I do for a living, and who I get to do it with, and I want us to be the best damn heroes this galaxy’s ever seen. But…I know it’s hard to do that without great leadership. Not that that’s a slight against you, Gamora, you’re doing awesome,” he added quickly.

“I had no doubts,” she said dryly, though she reached to squeeze his hand in thanks. “And your suggestion for the Guardians as a whole?”

“This is kinda adding on to Mantis’s, but…don’t feel like you have to keep your thoughts and feelings to yourself.” He smiled at them ruefully. “We’ve all dealt with shit. We’re still dealing with shit every day. But as Gamora likes to tell me, two of the most important things in relationships are trust and honesty. So like, say something if you’re having a bad day, or you don’t like something that’s been going on. We’re a team, not a bunch of people who just happen to work together.”

“Thought you were about to launch into another motivational speech for a second, and I zoned out,” Rocket snorted. “But sure, I’ll bite, Quill. More talking, like we don’t got enough of that already. Can we go now? There’s icicles in my fur, and it ain’t pleasant.”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go, grumpy,” Peter laughed, getting to his feet. Everyone began following suit, chatting nonsensically to each other as they did. It was beginning to snow again, this time in small, but densely packed flakes. “Okay, we really need to get outta here, come on!”

They filed in through the roof access door one by one, shivering profusely. Nebula hesitated, wondering whether now was the right time to do it. Well, you’ve never been scared before, what’s stopping you this time? she thought, watching as the others vanished from sight. “Mantis,” she called.

The other girl turned in the doorway, blinking at her in confusion. “Is something wrong?” she asked, taking a tentative step forward. Nebula supposed she couldn’t blame her for being cautious – her hands were clasped behind her back, probably giving Mantis the impression she was about to pull out a blade or something.

“When I was at the mall with Quill, he mentioned that you were on a personal journey or whatever.” She practically shoved the item into Mantis’s gut, causing her to let out a small “oof”. “I thought this might be of use, especially since – like brother, like sister – you like to talk so much.”

Though the snow was starting to blur her vision, Mantis could vaguely make out what she was looking at – a book, heavy with a plush green cover, the word ‘journal’ embossed in gold cursive. Each page, made of thick cream-colored stock, was edged with gold to match. There were prompts on every other page, suggestions of what to write or think about, along with a small box to mark moods and feelings. It was the sort of thing Nebula scoffed at, something she would describe as “utterly pretentious”, but to Mantis, it was a step in the right direction.

“This must have been quite expensive,” Mantis pondered aloud, looking back up at Nebula. Her large eyelashes were now coated with flecks of snow, making her eyes appear even bigger than usual, cheeks unusually flushed.

“I can take it back if you don’t want it,” Nebula snapped, taking another step forward to snatch it back. Mantis immediately leaped away, clutching the book to her chest protectively.

“No, I do, it’s wonderful!” she exclaimed. “Thank you for the gift. I will most definitely put it to good use.” She smiled softly, reaching to awkwardly pat the other girl’s shoulder. “Merry Christmas, Nebula.”

“Christmas is over, you weirdo,” Nebula huffed, hastily brushing past her to catch up with the rest of the Guardians. Mantis chuckled to herself before turning to hurry down the stairs. It really was getting too cold for comfort, though if her chest was feeling a little warmer than it had been a minute ago, no one needed to know.

a/n: happy holidays, lovelies! i hope this fic gave you the warm fuzzies like it did when i was writing it. i also wanted to explore some other dynamics this time around instead of solely focusing on peter/gamora as i usually do, so i hope you enjoyed that as well.

some present visuals - this is the book that peter gave gamora (11/10, would recommend, by the way), and groot's gym somewhat looks like this, but if you've ever been to one of those indoor children's play centers you kinda get what i mean. aso, two more songs from peter's mix, "for gamora" - december 1963: oh, what a night by the four seasons, and happy together by the turtles. The song from gamora’s mix, “for peter”, is daydream believer by the monkees. also, rocket's backstory with lylla is partially based on their telltale counterparts, in case any of you were wondering what she looks like.

since this is the last twenty questions fic of the year, i just wanted to say a huge thank you to everyone who has read this fic and any of the others in this series! this 'verse is kind of my baby and i love being able to play around with the different relationships and ongoing storylines. i'm currently working on my other huge au, everybody wants to rule the world, so i won't be writing as much for this one at the moment, but hopefully, i'll have another one-shot in this series for valentine's day!

again, thank you so so so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed it as much as i loved writing it. likes and reblogs would be much appreciated, and i'll see you all next time!

[lysitheaioandeuropa]

All the flowery asks

):

azalea : what’s one word that describes you ?- annoying probably, idk. extra lmao

baby’s breath : what did you want to be when you were a kid ?- a coroner, surgeon, a lawyer. not what i am now, but i am happy with it atm

begonia : are you a messy or clean person ?- rly rly clean

bleeding heart : has your heart ever been broken ?- mhm, it has, sometimes by my own damn self! but it happens you move on you live and you learn

bluebell : do you drink tea or coffee ?i drink both but do prefer coffee most of the time

buttercup : what are five things that make you apologetically happy ?- unapologetically? idk, video games? free times? it’s hard to answer this w depression in mind lol, but any time i spend w my gf rly makes forget that all even if just temporarily, i rly love and appreciate all the time i spend w her and that she’s willing to share w me

calla : what’s your favorite book ?- i have a few, i kinda stan for cassandra clare even though i don’t really like her writing style. i need new books to read asap

carnation : what are your five most played songs ?- rn i’ve had this jojo album playing all day

chrysanthemum : what are you afraid of ?- getting old and not doing shit w my life. coming out to my mom. never getting better

daffodil : what’s your astrological sign ?- gemini :( here goes the hate lmao

dahlia : what’s your favorite band ?- okay i always say arctic monkeys but BOY, do i fucking LOVE ME some fucking chromeo!!!!! LIKE YES FUNK LORDS FOR LIFE BITCH

daisy : which ‘friends’ character do you relate to the most ?- i’m not white (cause you have to be to think friends is even remotely funny)

dandelion : are you an extrovert or an introvert ?- more introvert than extrovert. i be going out and “yikes”-ing my way through the night

geranium : how has your day been ?- odd? it started off pretty okay but i noticed i was in a mood, p clingy and needy and rly manic. and then MOOD DROP and i laid in bed crying for two hours and didn’t eat anything. by 9 i was okay and i ate taco bell of all things so i know i’m boutta hate my whole life (s.n. this was last wednesday)

hydrangea : what’s your dream job ?- something in tech com, a bookstore i own myself, a university position, i still wish i could work at or open up a publishing house.

iris : who’s your celebrity crush ?- used to be james franco. dave 1 is a total stud though like wow thats my husband

lavender : what’s one of the best gifts you’ve ever received ?- my birthday gift this year, i cried opening it, and a couple years ago was rly nice too

lily : what’s something you’ve achieved that you’re really proud of ?- surprisingly, i haven’t died. and i’ve survived the past three months w little to no personal injury (mental or physical)

marigold : what would you like to do more of, but don’t ?- everything? but i all takes too much energy? rn i want to clean and run errands and not cry but i’m doing the exact opposite of that. update: i drew TWO (2) things yesterday!!! i am proud! and i went to the gym for the first time in three weeks

moonflower : who inspires you ?- whatever potential future me has that isn’t me rn.

morning glory : are you an early bird or a night owl ?- a bit of both, i get up early and i stay up late but not like i’m doing anything productive

orchid : what’s the last movie you saw ?- thirteen ghosts, it was still as good as i remember it! update: currently finishing princess mononoke

pansy : do you believe in love at first sight ?- no bro, and if you do you a liar and you tryna fuck

peony : what does your url mean ?- jupiter’s moons!

periwinkle : what are you thankful for ?- not dying i guess

petunia : where were you ten years ago ?- hmm it was my freshman year of high school. i was spending lunch w omar, ashley, and antonio, or just hanging out in the library picking out books to read. that wasn’t rly a good year tbh but yeah funny how people say shit like that does not matter 10yrs down the line

poinsettia : where would you like to be in ten years ?- i’d hopefully be an estimator w my current company, maybe at a different branch in portland or seattle. financially stable, married, and happy puppy owner, maybe even happy parent

poppy : what’s your online persona ?- same as irl, if not slightly cooler actually but just as cynical and depressed

primrose : if you could share one message with the world, what would it be ?- i’m not really sure.. do more of what you love. take care of yourself, physically and mentally. have an open mind.

rose : who’s the last person you spent quality time with ?- probably michelle? we went to panda yesterday.

snapdragon : what are your goals ?- i want!! to get!! better!! also, lose fifty pounds but i mean i’m fat and i like to eat it is what it is

sunflower : what’s your favorite quote ?- “all good things are wild and free,” sidenote, i am happy to be a free happy gay rn like i’m much more comfortable in my skin in that regard i felt like i constantly had to hide that specific part of me and granted i still do to a certain extent but not as much

tulip : if you had three wishes, what would you wish for ?- i don’t want to be rich, but i want 100% certain financial security. i can take care of my wife and kids, we can take trips and vacations whenever we want, and we’re happy and fulfilled. money won’t do that, but it will certainly help. i really wish i wasn’t depressed/didn’t have bpd, that would improve the overall quality of my life immensely. and lastly, i wish i could go back in time and make better choices.

violet : what’s one thing most people don’t know about you ?- outside of the internet no one knows i have bpd

zinnia : do you believe in magic ?- depends on your definition

[soyraktajino]

The voyager crew! And Tasha Yar?

Yar: Have you ever lost someone close to you?

mmm, no, not like, died. 

Janeway: Starbucks, Dunkin’ Donuts, or neither?

i drink a really unreasonable amount of starbucks. i try and justify it saying that they’re the only chain to reliably have soy? i’m in southern california there’s one on every corner and no other chains except mcdonalds, and again, they don’t have soy. so yeah i’m a major starbucks junkie. 

Chakotay: Any tattoos/piercings?

nope! when i was 15 i had my ears pierced and they got infected but i didn’t know what to do so i just ignored it (hint: don’t do that) and the skin on the back of my ear lobes grew over the clasp thing. so that was in april and then in october i had to get my appendix out and after they’d hooked me up to the morphine and were preparing me for surgery and everything they tried to take my studs out and realized like. they’re. they’re melded in there. but they didn’t have time to do local anasthesia and cut ‘em off and sew ‘em up like they aught to’ve, because my appendix was tryna kill me, so they literally strapped me down and ripped them off. i was on major pain drugs and it hurt worse than my appendix did before i’d been hooked up to the pain drugs. so now i can’t get my ear lobes pierced again because the entire back of my ear lobe is a massive scar, the tissue is too thick for a normal lowgrade piercing gun. 

:) 

Seven: Are you more of an introvert or an extrovert?

mm, kind of both? i act like an extrovert but people drain me. 

Paris: Do you believe people can truly change?

depends on what we’re talking about here. for the most part, yeah. 

Tuvok: Have you ever made an unlikely friend?

i would have NEVER guessed i’d be as good of friends as i am with one of my best friends. i knew him all through high school but we didn’t actually start hanging out until after? we have a mutual friend who we’d both been really really good friends with for years and years. 

like i hang out with him more than any of my other friends and if you had told me that 5 years ago there is no way in hell i would believe you but like he’s the best

The Doctor: If you had to choose a new name for yourself, what would it be?

i think about this a lot because i have all the paperwork filled out for my legal name and gender marker change but i’m not even sure if i want my name anymore (eliot). i stole it, it’s my dad’s dad’s, and my dad doesn’t want me to have it. but i’ve used it for long enough that like….. i can’t really afford to change it again re: all the networking i’ve done….. 

when i first started questioning Gender and stuff i used Orr and i really miss that sometimes but it’s not a ‘’’’’’’’real’’’’’’’’ name. 

i like ben/benji/benjamin a lot, if i ever actually decided to change my name i’d probably end up with that. 

Torres: Does it take a lot to make you angry?

i don’t know. i don’t think so? i get annoyed pretty easily. 

Neelix: Favorite food?

pho 

[tran5rightsos]

The Taste of Tar and Concrete - Chapter One: Wrong Place, Wrong Time (Wrong Side of the Tracks to Be)

A collaboration by myself and @icseyic

Tags and Warnings: Smut, Dubcon

Word Count: 2582

Leave Kudos?

“You okay?” Ashton asked, just loud enough to be heard over the music. 

“I’m fine.”

“If you needa sit down, just say so. Nobody will bitch about giving you their seat.” 

“I said I’m fine,” Luke snapped.

Finally, Ashton backed off. “Just let me know if you need the car unlocked,” he said as he headed outside.

Luke rolled his eyes and took another gulp of whatever the fuck was in his plastic cup, wondering what he’d done to deserve it this time. He wasn’t in much pain yet, certainly not enough for it to show on his face. All he was doing was leaning on the counter like a normal fucking person. Probably a cardinal sin, in his case. 

“Luke!” 

Luke looked up at Calum, grinning as he approached. 

“Glad you made it, it’s been forever!” He looked about to hug Luke, but seemed to think better of it, giving him a friendly pat on the arm. 

Luke frowned. 

“How have you been?” 

“Fine.” 

Calum didn’t say anything to that, probably worried that saying the wrong thing would give Luke a fucking stroke or some shit. 

“Hey, happy birthday,” Luke wished. 

“Thanks.”

“How’s work been?” Luke asked. 

Calum nodded, looking relieved that any hopes of conversation weren’t doomed from the start. “It’s been good. Busy, but the money’s good.”

“Luke.”

Luke nearly crushed the cup in his hand. 

“Long time no vomiting-at-the-sight-of-you,” resident cunt Michael Clifford greeted. 

“What are you doing here?” Luke demanded, straightening up to face him, a little surprised by the bright red hair. He shouldn’t be. It was a different fucking colour every time Luke saw him, though his shabby fashion sense didn’t seem to have changed.

“I live here.” 

Luke grit his teeth. “Why are you talking to me?”

“I’m not.” Michael turned to Calum. “I can’t find that tequila.” 

“Uh…” Calum frowned. “Pretty sure it’s in your room. In a shopping bag with some of your stuff I didn’t wanna touch.”

“Why is it…” Michael gave him a weird look. “Whatever, I’ll check.”

“Is that a new bald patch?” Luke called as he left. 

That got a reaction, at least. 

Michael glared at him. “Still the same fucking bitch, then.” 

Luke noted with satisfaction that Michael rubbed his head as he walked away, as if searching for the supposed bald patch. He finished his cup of mystery beverage, still unsure of whether he liked it or not. Maybe he should have another cup. 

“Do you need to sit down?” Calum asked, “You should probably rest your legs, there’s a bag of peas in the freezer if you want-” 

“Jesus Christ, I’ve been here for ten fucking minutes!” 

Luke abandoned his cup on the counter and left the kitchen, wondering where Michael’s room was. He may be the biggest asshole in the world, but at least he wasn’t doing whatever the fuck Luke’s friends were doing. And he had tequila. Tequila made everything better. 

Michael’s room turned out easy to find. He’d left the door open when he went in and Luke spotted him searching through a shopping bag on the floor. 

“Are those your sex toys?”

Michael glared at him. “What are you doing here?” 

“It’s Calum’s house. He invited me.” 

“Why are you bitching at me?”

“I’m not talking to you,” Luke replied pettily, crossing his arms. 

Michael rose slowly. “Get the fuck out.” 

Luke kicked the door shut behind him, muffling the music playing in the living room. “Make me.”

Michael strode over and shoved him into the door. Luke stumbled, but stayed standing, surprised by the use of physical force.

“Are you tryna start a fight?” Michael asked, voice dangerously quiet. 

Luke stood tall, feeling his heart rate pick up at the idea. “Why? You scared?” 

A moment later, he found himself doubling over, Michael stepping back and shaking his hand as if to flick mud off it. 

“Get out,” he repeated. 

Luke coughed, clutching his stomach. It had been a softer hit than he’d expect from Michael, but it still hurt like a bitch. 

“Fuck you. You hit like a pussy.”

Michael balled up his fist as if to punch him again, but paused. “Are you hard?”

Shit. 

“No,” he denied, straightening up.

“I can see your fucking boner.” 

Luke didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of looking, but he could definitely feel it. He still couldn’t get himself into his old black skinny jeans, so tonight he was wearing a pair loose grey dress pants that probably didn’t conceal much. 

He shoved at Michael. “What are you gonna do about it?” What are you gonna do about it? Luke was not drunk enough to justify saying that.

Michael gripped his shirt and pushed him back against the door, holding him there. “Do you like this or something?” he sneered. 

He did. Jesus Christ, he liked it so fucking much. Nobody else would dare lay a hand on him, even hug him too tightly for fear that he’d break, yet here this asshole was, using him as a punching bag. 

“Fuck you,” Luke spat, wondering if he could push Michael to hit him again, really bruise him. 

“You’re so fucking desperate,” Michael mocked, “Or have you been into me this whole time? Being a brat ‘cause you’re hoping I’ll fuck you against a wall to shut you up.” He regarded him with a nasty smile. “Or maybe you’re like this with everyone. Just a slut tryna get any dick he can up his ass.”

Did he really think that? Why did Luke even want this shithead to think that? Whatever, Luke supposed that he was just finally fucking losing it. Michael had gotten right up in his face; he didn’t have to lean far to connect their lips. 

The electric thrill was short-lived; Michael pulled away almost immediately and rewarded Luke’s lack of impulse control with a left hook. The pain wasn’t immediate, Luke’s brain focusing on not falling over as his cheek warmed. Michael helped, forcing him upright by his throat. 

“Never fucking do that again,” he hissed, his grip on Luke’s jaw deliciously painful. He let go to grab his shirt again, hauling him away from the door and sending him stumbling backwards onto the bed. “Take your clothes off.” 

Luke glared at him. “Make me.” 

Good move. In a heartbeat, Michael was on top of Luke, forcing him down and wrestling him onto his front. Luke squirmed for the sake of appearances, but getting manhandled like this was sending blood straight to his dick. Michael wormed a hand up under his shirt to grasp a nipple and Luke cried out as he twisted it. 

“Take your clothes off.”

Luke nodded quickly and he let go, rolling off to give him room. As he pulled off his shirt, Michael snatched it away and tossed it to the other side of the room. He scoffed when Luke shimmied his pants down, dick springing up eagerly like the snitch it was. 

“Fucking desperate,” Michael repeated. 

Luke didn’t really register that he was only one undressing until his clothes were scattered around the room and Michael was on him again, pushing him face down into the mattress to keep control of him. If the pink scars on his legs caught Michael’s interest, he didn’t show it. 

Luke felt Michael’s clothed dick against an ass cheek and finally started to panic. 

“Condom, condom,” he pleaded, anxiously reconsidering all the stupid choices he’d made up until now. Michael was a piece of shit, but he wouldn’t go that far in anger, would he?

“Calm down,” Michael groaned, though he sat up to reach for his bedside table and rummage through the drawer. He pointedly showed Luke the strip of condoms he pulled out, then discarded them on the sheets to grab a healthily well-used bottle of lube. 

Pressing a hand between Luke’s shoulder blades to hold him down, Michael straddled a thigh and drizzled lube over his hole. Luke felt him lightly grind his dick against his ass again as he pushed a finger in, the haphazardly applied lube doing the bare minimum to ease its entry. 

Groaning, Luke gripped the bedsheets.

“I bet you live for this shit,” Michael sneered, moving his hips in time with his finger as he opened Luke up, “Getting the shit beaten out of you before you get fucked.”

His cheek burned. “Fuck you.” 

The finger withdrew and Luke felt Michael smear more lube towards his hole and press it in with two. 

“Just a slut after all,” he continued, scissoring them roughly, “You’ll probably spread your legs for anyone who’s rough enough.” He scoffed. “As long as they use a condom.”

Again, the fingers disappeared so Michael could gather more of the spilled lube. He was going way too fast, but Luke couldn’t say he hated the disregard for his comfort. 

“Open one,” Michael commanded as he pushed his fingers back in. 

Luke ripped a condom from the strip and tore it open. Michael let go of his back to take it, pulling his hips back as he kept absentmindedly fingering Luke. Now that he was somewhat freed, Luke lifted his head to look back at Michael, watching him yank his pants down enough to free his dick. 

“I’ll say this for you,” Michael said as he rolled the condom on, “You do have a nice ass.” 

Pulling his fingers out, Michael gave it a hard slap and repositioned, the denim of his jeans electrical against Luke’s inner thighs. He was so exposed, laid out naked on the bed of a man he hated, body on display for that utter cunt.

That was a fun new low. 

Michael wasn’t hesitant to push into Luke, to take him and use him. Out of curiosity, Luke twisted to get away from the painful stretch, but Michael grabbed his hair to still him. 

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” Luke bit. 

Michael scoffed, releasing his hair with a shove. “Jesus Christ, you’re easy for this.” 

He leaned down, the buttons and studs of his stupid denim jacket icy on Luke’s bare back, grabbing his wrists and pulling them down behind his back as he fucked into him. Holding them with one hand, he snaked the other under Luke’s body to pinch a nipple. 

“You know, that door isn’t locked,” Michael told him, breath ghosting over his aching cheek as he kneaded the nipple between his thumb and knuckle, “Anyone could come in here looking for me and find you hanging off my dick. You’d probably like that, though. Everyone knowing this is how you take it.” 

Luke scowled into the sheets. The worst part was that, in that moment, he <em>did</em> want everyone to see, to know that he could take this without shattering like a teacup. Every time Michael twisted or pulled at his nipple, Luke growled and squirmed, but he seemed to have found a favourite way to torture him, just as Luke had apparently found a favourite way to be tortured. Not that there wasn’t plenty to focus on in other parts of his body. Michael’s dick using him like a toy, the burn of the denim on his inner thighs, the metal notions of Michael’s clothes jabbing into him, his dick getting shoved into the sheets with every thrust as if to reward him for his pathetic submission. Nobody else dared to treat him like this, like he was a piece of meat only good for getting off inside of, but goddamn did he want more. 

Michael released his tender nipple to brace himself against the mattress for a better angle, fucking him harder and, probably unknowingly, slipping against Luke’s sweet spot. It didn’t take much to undo Luke, white noise washing over him as he came. 

Grunting, Michael soon followed him. It would have been kind of romantic if Luke didn’t despise everything about him. 

As Michael got off of him, Luke rolled onto his side, panting. 

“You came on my fucking bed?” Michael snapped, “You’re disgusting.”

“You’ll live,” Luke mumbled. He moved to sit up, but grunted at the pain that shot through his suddenly glaringly fragile legs. He hadn’t noticed how much pressure he’d been putting on them. 

Ignoring him, Michael grabbed the tequila bottle he’d come here for, wrenched the door open and strode out, party music blaring in Luke’s ears as he watched him go without closing it. Anyone passing by would see Luke, naked and breakable, on Michael’s bed. 

Fuck that. 

Biting his tongue, Luke rolled off the bed and hit the floor hard, ignoring the pain and scrambling to the door to slam it shut. He sat against it and breathed through the flaring agony in his legs, waiting it out until it was bearable enough that he could crawl to the nearest piece of clothing. Luke wondered if Michael had suspected, hoped, even, that gathering up his scattered clothes would be this much of an ordeal. He’d asked those who knew not to talk about last year, but rumours had gotten out and Luke wouldn’t be surprised if Calum’s housemate was one of the prying pairs of ears to have caught wind of it. 

That being said, there was a slight sense of relief to be stamped down at the idea that Michael knew and was still just as shitty to Luke as he’d always been. It would be a stretch to call this pity sex. Shame he didn’t get any of that tequila before he left, though.

can you help me get back to the car? Luke texted Ashton when he was dressed. 

where are you?

Luke stared at the Green Day poster on the wall opposite him for a moment before deciding to play dumb. someones room. had to lie down

omw

Luke crawled to the bed and frowned at the obvious cumstain. Shit. He wrenched the sheet to the floor, pushing it out of sight and climbing onto the bed just in time to pretend he’d been lying there the whole time when Ashton came in. 

“You okay?” He froze, staring at Luke. “What happened to your face?”

Fuck. 

“I, uh, met Michael on the way here,” he lied. Well. It wasn’t a complete lie. 

“Michael did that?” 

Luke shrugged. “He’s a prick, what would you expect?”

Ashton frowned deeply, but didn’t press him for more information. “Do you need your crutches?”

“No, just help me...” He held his arms out to him. 

Ashton slid an arm around him and helped him off the bed. Luke’s legs bitched at him for making them stand, but he took a few unsteady steps towards the door with Ashton, deciding that they could cope. 

“Where’s Michael?” he tried to ask casually, peering into the living room as they approached it. 

All these people seeing him like this fucking sucked, but he couldn’t let Michael win by allowing him to see as well. 

“He’s not gonna touch you,” Ashton assured him. 

“No, just…” 

Luke separated himself from Ashton as they walked in. He couldn’t see Michael anywhere, which was a relief because even without Ashton holding him up he just knew that everyone could see how awkward his steps towards the front door were. All those fucking voyeurs would be talking about it the moment he was out of the house, as if any of it was any of their business. As if last year was just a fun piece of gossip to them. 

Because it was. 

[thisnerdsadventures]

a couple notes on the semester

It is 8:30am on a Sunday - why am I up this early. Well the answer to that question is that I woke up with a splitting headache resulting from dehydration at around 6 and then spent two hours on Youtube watching food videos and deciding where to eat today for dinner. Really though, I’ve been on a rough schedule this semester, so maybe this weird sleep schedule is a result of night after night after night of late nights and coffee-dependent days.

I sometimes wake up in the morning and ask myself, “how did I end up here?” Not in a bad way, but more in a “how did I fail to get sleep again” way. I somehow ended up with a horrific weekday schedule, tryna cram around 50-60 hours of work/class/psetting into 4.5 days and then attempting to leave weekends freer for recovery, but I also end up doing too many fun things on the weekends (I know, the horror)

For instance, here are some of the fun things I’ve done this semester:

hike at crane beach! the nicest sand and clearest water within 50 miles of boston, guaranteed. although the hike was actually way harder than I thought it would be

biked to the potato memorial

went on the Maseeh boat cruise!

kayaked in the charles. <- This was particularly terrifying because when we tried to turn around, we kept on going around in circles and there was an honest fifteen minutes we thought we would be stuck in the river, but we made it back! Also we got yelled at by a guy whose boat we kept running into

Got lunch with my old team at googz. good to see them :’), counting down the days i can finally go full time LOL

house gov retreat, where we also attempted to go kayaking but then ended up going to tosci’s instead

went back to the aquarium for disorientation

caught up with a BU friend over sushi and visited my friend in Random

a couple of frat parties

there was one sunday morning we cleaned the exec closet which was a ridiculous endeavor in which we found a sports illustrated issue from 2008. this is definitely just one of those weird things that happen when you’re on exec for clubs

saw michelle wolf live for fallfest!

there was this one weird day that we ended up playing quidditch with the MSA and then ended up at the galleria and then i dropped $40 on a blazer at H&M

i can’t believe this many fun things happened in one month. and there’s only more to comE!!!!!

On the other hand, I mentioned that this semester has been a hell of a grind for some unknown reason compared to past semesters, but my running explanation for this is that my operating systems class ended up being 2.5x the amount of work and emotional toil that I thought it would be, and I already thought it would be pretty bad. The running joke is that I see this other GRA in my dorm way more than my actual GRA because she works on the same floor as this class’s office hours, and I live in office hours. Additionally, I’m pouring a lot of hours into my research (maybe like 2x what I was putting in last semester, when I was just writing the paper). And then there’s like clubs, and the ballerz, and interviews, and working out, and house gov exec, and model UN stuff, and other weird commitments I get myself involved with during the week, and then before you know it, you’re running around for 10-11 hours a day before you can finally come home and DO HOMEWORK.

Here are some slightly concerning things I have pulled in the last four weeks for my commitments - 

Last week, I was working on making all my figures in vector format for paper revisions, so basically sat myself down at 7pm and worked until 2:30am in the athena cluster on adobe illustrator without looking at my phone or facebook or anything. i had oreos, three computer screens open and coffee, I must’ve looked like I had lost it or something

the week before that, there was a 18 (10pm Wed -> 4pm Thurs) hour period where I had spent 14 hours working on a pset. This was also kind of bad

Oh, and in this 18 hour period, my friend and I had gone to the student center to buy coffee at 2:30am but (thankfully) verdes was closed, so we ended up sitting on the floor of the stud and screaming profanity

there was this one 48 hour period in september where I spent like five hours on Monday working on a pset, had a crisis at 3am, emailed my advisor like “i need to meet you i am having a crisis”, continued to work on the pset the next day for 6 hours, went to the meeting with my advisor, dropped the class from grad to undergrad status, and then stayed up until 3am again doing this other class’s pset from start to finish.

;_; you HATE TO SEE IT. anyways

some good things have been happening, and some good things are coming. For example, i just got this really awesome externship position and just got a potential match for next summer in NYC, so that’s all exciting! My friends and I also got accepted to hack Princeton, so we’ll be going there in November, and we’re planning this fairly extensive party for house gov, happening in 2 weeks. Model UN is going to Rhode island also in November! Ballerz games are starting next weekend and we’ll likely be putting up a blog post about it too, so I’m super excited to contribute to that.

Well. That was enough spouting thoughts. I think I’m going to go work out now, but a final note is I really liked this blog post from my friend. It’s all about brutal honesty here and how people here just love to do everything. and that’s probably one of the biggest “flaws”, but also the most beautiful thing about lots of people on this campus. Also can we just talk about the couple paragraphs: 

“Some people call Course 6’s sellouts. I don’t really think they are. You have a higher chance of job security, although not fully guaranteed, in pursuing Course 6. It has one of the highest average job salary when looking at first jobs post graduation. And, there’s a special program called M.Eng that gives you both a bachelor’s and master’s degree in five years, as opposed to the typical six. It is…pretty tempting.

But of course there are downsides, like the previously stated fact that there ARE a lot of Course 6’s and it’s probably going to be really competitive to get internships. Or that people are going to think you’re selling out, when in reality you do have a genuine passion for computer science. Or maybe you are doing it for the perks, but even then, that’s understandable since MIT really, really gives Course 6 some big perks.”

People close to me used to give me shit about being Course 6, and it took me many many moons to overcome it. I used to think about whether I was really maximizing the worth of my degree, whether I could be doing more, whether I could be in a more high-impact position or major. But at the end of the day, SWE stuff like what I was doing this summer, maybe it’s not going to cure cancer, but the work and the product were fucking cool. and it was fulfilling! Turns out I actually like coding and thinking about computer systems. And the people? so. awesome. and you know what? that should be enough.