#he REALLY has a punchable face (which i suppose is what they were going for)

[littlemousejelly]

haven't seen anyone discussing their hoid box so is it safe to say everyone's as disappointed as i am? the only thing i really like is the mouse pad because i can cover his smarmy face with my mouse

[koolcece22]

Enter Venomgirl

Ch.31

Shade’s Pov

Me and Miguel are still in the lab trying to set up the game plan on how we are going to take care of the collider. According to the data, the main collider was in the building in Alchemax HQ. The one me, Miguel and the kids were in. so if we can get to that one, we will be able to shut down the others all at once. So that one problem is taken care of. The main one. Now we need to find out who is really behind this, my guess is Andrew and Penny. I looked at Miguel who was still looking at the many files on the screen. How was he able to do that without getting a headache I'll never understand. 

He was particularly glaring at the picture of Andrew Stone, I wonder if he reminds him of someone? Then again that man is evil and causes so many problems for me and anyone with Compound R. 

I walk up beside him “I know, he has a punchable face.” I joked about getting Miguel's attention. 

“Didn’t take you as a type to jokes.”

“Well hanging with you guys does that. But, your look at Andrew like he also ruin your life or at least someone similar to him.” I can feel that Miguel was particularly oozing with hate at the guy and I'm pretty sure he never meant him. 

“He reminds me of my boss.”

“He does? That Tylor stone guy you talked about? Do you think Andrew is your boss’s variant?” I asked 

“Maybe, but if he is, he will be just as twisted.”

Lyla then pop in, 

“Well boss I called Jess, Peter, Ben,and Petra. To meet with you guys, also Hobie, Miles, and 42 came back with Agony that was left on Shade’s earth.” 

“Say what now?” Both me and Miguel said at the same time. Lyla shows Jess and Peter talking to Miles,Hobie, and 42. Also talking to Gwen, Pavitr and Peni who all of them are getting scrowled by them. Miguel sighs as he jumps down from the platform landing on all four I follow, wanting to know why those three went to my Earth.

~

Me and Miguel open the door to the room they were all in. We can hear Jess yelling at them down the hall, even Peter looks a bit upset.

 “I can believe you three went to that Earth without our permission! You know you could have been stuck there right?” Jess said soundly like a very upset mother. Then again she is one. 

“Yeah, well we try to save Agony. Zee was handling her hostage unless we helped them with making sure that one their informant wasn’t betraying them.” Hobie said 

“Yeah, he likes a big demon guy named Blackheart and why is there a demon in their group anyway?” 42 chime in. When he said Blackheart's name the room shifted mainly the emotion that came from Jess,Peter and even Miguel. It was fear. 

“You meant Blackheart?” I asked everyone to turn towards me, now noticing me and Miguel in the room. 

“Yeah? You met him.” 

I shook my head, I never met the guy, Zee told me he is the best informant they have. Then again they only have two, him and Timothy. Not like people are so keen on joining U.N.I.T.

“No, all I know is that he works for Zee. They don’t want to meet me but they have seen me which is creepy.” 

Miguel used his watch to show us a bunch of villains and their variants, he scrolled a bunch of them till he landed on a weird-looking creature. It was an all black creature, his form reminded me of my Berzerk form. 

“You saw this?” Miguel asked sounding very worry

All three of them nodded, starting to get the feeling that something was wrong and they weren’t supposed to meet that guy.

“Yeah, only different, he has red markings similar to yours tio.” Miles said

“ genial, otro problema con el que podríamos tener que lidiar.” Miguel said under his breath. 

“Ugh, ok I never met my Blackheart but something tells me he’s bad, right?”

Judging from the looks Jess, Miguel, and Peter look, he’s bad. 

“He is not usually a villain we deal with. He has more Ghostrider and Daredevil problem. But when we do have to deal with him, he is a variant we don’t want to deal with.”

“And why is he so bad?” I asked 

“He is the son of the demon named Mephisto. Another guy I hope we don’t have to deal with.” Miguel turns to the kids “if you even meet that man again. don’t try to engage with him, got it?” 

They all nodded this was probably the first time I felt the kids also taking them seriously. Miguel sighs again as he rubs the bridge of his nose.

“So where is Agony?” he turn to Peter 

“Andrea is taking care of her. Perta and Ben are also with them. if Agony tries to do anything but she looks like she is not going to try to escape.” 

“Ok I’m going to check on her, Shade will come with me. You guys continue your work and don’t go to Earth 2424. Entiendo?” 

Surprisingly, they all nodded. Me and Miguel head to the Med room while Jess still lay on the kids. I’m just glad they are ok, I will have to have a word to Zee once I get back but for now, we need to talk to this Agony.

Once we were there, Miguel opened the door and saw two other spider men. One looks like someone who would be in a gang on my Earth while the other looks like a cyborg or something. I’m guessing there are Ben and Petra. I saw Agony who was on the bed. She look chain up so she wouldn’t get away. I mean, she is surrounded by hundreds of Spider-people so I don’t think she is getting away. 

She look up at us as her eyes widen,

“You are that freaky symbiote I saw back at the gym.” Agony hissed at me, I was taken aback by what she said Kuro pop on to shoulder growling knowing I hated being called a freak. 

“ Say that to our face you kuso icky!” 

“Kuro, stop it.” Then I look back at Agony who is glaring at me as Kuro calls her icky. 

“Why half your brain is out?” 

I was about to answer till Miguel stepped in. Agony also glared at him seeing his costume remembering she fought him when Carnage captured Tempest. 

“You, you were there too. Why are there a bunch of you?”

Miguel put his hands up trying not to be a threat to her. I can feel her unease with her.

‘Don’t trust them, we need to go back .’

‘I know, but how?! We have no choice but to trust them for now.’

I grab my head from hearing the voices, their voices. Agony and her host, it was like that before. Miguel and everyone in the room must have noticed as I felt their emotion shift to concern. 

“You ok?” Miguel asked 

“Yeah…I can hear her.” I pointed to Agony who looked at me and was confused. I don’t blame her, I'm just as confused as they were.

‘ What is she talking about? ’ I hear her talking again 

“I-I can hear what you're thinking.” Agony was taken back by this. Miguel looked at me and heard as I continued. “I heard it before with her and a bit with carnage. Is that normal for symbiotes?” 

I turned to Agony or the symbiote part of her went back into her body to show us her human host, her hair was brown with some purple highlights in it and had a mole near her lip. Miguel looked at her, guessing she looked familiar to him. Well she could be a variant of someone.

“You're Liz Allen?” Miguel said, examining her. 

The woman or Liz Allen nodded and her symbiote popped out the side with a grin. It looks like a snake compared to Kuro who looks like a rabbit when she pops out. My body also looks like she or they can’t leave her body all the way too.

“Yeah? What is it to ya?”

“Nothing, it's just rare to see a Liz Allen, you usually with a Misery symbiote. I need to run some scans to see which earth you are from.” 

“Earth 8532, or that Carnage asshole said I was from.” 

I walked up to her and sat next to her. I just want to see if she ok since I'm the closest thing here, as the same as her. She was taken back by it but I can sense she calmed down quickly. 

“I overheard that Carnage and my Six on my earth were experimenting on you. Do you know Why?” I asked because I wanted to know what they did to her. Whatever they were doing wasn't good. 

“They were trying to copy me. Carnage seemed like he was working under someone so he wasn’t getting tested like a lab rat like I was.” Liz hissed the last part. I wouldn’t blame her. “They were trying to copy this Venomgirl’s powers. I’m guessing that you?” 

I nodded. I know one reason why they tried to capture me was to copy my powers since in their eyes I’m one of the strongest with Compound R. Then again why me and not Penny or Arachnidqueen. 

“Well, good news. I overheard that Zee person that someone took care of that and all the data they got from me was deleted, even the backup file.” 

“I think it was Blackheart who must have done that.” Miguel pointed out. Then he pulls up a hologram from his watch and a girl pops up. I think that Margo if I remember correctly. “Margo can see what is going on, on Earth 8532 also ready for the go-home-machine.” 

My eyes widen, wait! This is my only chance to talk to someone that likes me. They look like they have their powers down compared to me. I don’t know how but I can tell they have a good bond with each other. Something that I wish I had. I know Kuro isn’t her own but me but It's like a me that I always reject and I don’t want no part of. I want her to be part of me. 

“Wait, can she…train with me for a bit?” 

“What?!” everyone said at the same time. Even Liz’s symbiote pops out in surprise that asked that. 

Andrea walk up to me “Shade that not a good idea, they- I mean she can be dangerous.”

“I’m more dangerous than her! Look, this is the first time since this whole Collider thing started that I found someone similar to me and not try to kill me. She is probably only one I can get any answer from directly.” 

Miguel, Andrea, Ben and Petra look at each other as they fold their arms not liking this Idea. I think I know how those kids feel. 

“How about this. Give me one day with her. Please”  I begged them, Miguel sigh as he walks forward to me and Liz. 

“I will allow it but first, it is going to be up to her if she wants to help or not.” Miguel then turns towards Liz who looks confused by all this. I kind of did threw her under the bus without her say-so. “I look into your history, your earth there is Spider-Man but its Kaine Parker. We haven’t talked to him yet to join the spider society. But it looks like you haven’t caused trouble like most Agony.”

“Heh, how I'm being treated as another prisoner, I can tell. I look, I don’t think i’m qualified to help you control yours…” she eyed me up and down like she was trying to figure me out. I really am not like them. “But, you did kind of help me out. You two broke me free on Carnage’s control and those other spiders brought me here. Let's say I give you a free trial as a thank you. But that it, got it!?” 

Nodded as I grabbed her hand, shaking it excitedly, for the first time in while I was happy. Finally! Someone who can help me understand. I wish Patrick was here, he would also be excited too. 

“I will be with you two just to keep an eye on things but once the machine is done we will send you home as soon as we can, we don’t know if you not being there affected that earth’s canon.” Miguel said as he walked up Liz and removed the chains that were on her. Liz didn’t react as she just rubbed her wrist

I walked up to him “was it really necessary to chain her up like that?” 

Miguel got the sense that seeing her like that was making me uncomfortable. 

Can you blame me? 

“We are taking precautions. Symbiote are part of the spider-person’s canon and most of the time…they aren’t pretty.” 

I sigh that I understand what he meant but I feel like there should be another way. Miguel took me and Liz to the training room. It was only us three here, Miguel sat on the far end of the room, I'm guessing to give us girls some space. Liz then turns back into Agony. 

“So, what do you want to learn?”

“Oh well, I have run down something I can do.” I pointed out. I mean I know I've been like this for nine years but I only got some of my powers down to at least not turn into Berzerk every two seconds. 

“Can summon tendrils and stuff?” Agony then summoned her tendrils but they came from all over her body, same did Carnage, but his was more wild why Agony was strangely elegant. I can only summon my tendrils arms and legs. It helps with my shapeshifting. 

“Well, not all over my body like you but yeah.”  I show her that my tendrils from my arms. Agony examine my tendrils

“They look like they don’t go far compared to most symbiotes I meant. You have anything unique about you?”

“What do you mean?” 

“I can absorb chemicals that can reconstruct something useful. Anti-venom can cure anything he touches, Carnage as you know can control people and absorb.

Each symbiote has a unique gimmick.” 

“Does being half-symbiote count?” Agony laugh I couldn’t tell if Liz or Agony was the one who was laughing. 

“No, I don't think so. I will admit I have never seen anyone like you before. You were hard to sense or read. You can sense me right?” 

I nodded. I'm close to her so it is not but I feel this buzzing sense when I'm far away from her. Like she is giving off a signal on where she is. It was way worse from Carnage I wonder if because of his killer intent. 

“Hey Peter or Kain?” my attention was back to Agony who was calling Miguel guessing she thought he was Peter or this Kain person.

“It Miguel.” he said 

“Oh, ok. I can fight your friend right?”

I couldn’t help but cocked my head wondering what she meant. Does she want to fight me? 

“As long as you don’t hurt her I allow it. But if I hurt her…”

“Yeah yeah, you step in and stop me and beat me up right? I’m not like Carnage, you know? I know when to stop, I just want to see what she can do, that's all.” 

I can feel the unease from Miguel, not sure if this is a good idea, I don’t blame him since I did lose control from the last training session I was in. But, I feel better and my head is clearer now that I'm all healed up. 

‘ Are you up for it Kuro?’

‘ You know i’m always ready to fight.’

I nodded and turned to Miguel. 

“I will be ok Miguel.”

“You sure? you just got better.”

I nodded as I grew my claws and got ready to fight Agony. She smirks at me as ready herself.

“Yeah, I'm good.”

~

Third person POV

Agony made the first move by using her webbing to swing up to a nearby wall and launch herself off from it. Shade was able to dodge it but barely, she used her tendril to try to wrap around her leg but the moment Shade’s tendril touch Agony’s leg it quick retracted from the burn she felt.

“What?!”

“I told you! I can change the chemicals in my body and still have left them to test me.” Agony then shoves her tendrils into the ground which spikes quickly go towards Shade. Shade turn hand in to giant claws to slash the spike like tendrils, at the same time Agony came from behind was about to punch Shade but Shade blocked it with her tendrils 

From the far end of the training room, Miguel was eyeing the fight and he had to 

admit Shade was able to hold her own. Then again he saw her fight. She seems like she just need more practice but she is just as good as any newbie Spider person. 

‘ Focus Shade, focus !’ Kuro said as She turned Shade legs into more animal-like to give her more speed, Shade got down on all fours as she was about to charge at Agony. Agony used her webbing again and covered a spot that Shade touched causing her to stop in her tracks. Before Shade can slash the webbing off of her, Agony punches her in the back and pins her on the ground. 

Miguel was about to stop the fight till his watch went to inform him to take his medicine. But he can’t leave Shade with an anomaly. Lucky, he should be fine for the next ten minutes before his instinct takes over him. 

‘ Threat, don’t like’

Miguel shakes his head and tries to push down the thought. He should end the training so he can send Agony or Liz back. He turns back to Agony and Shade, as Agony punches Shade hard on the back. Seeing this, something inside Miguel reacts to this as the next thing he knew he got between Agony and Shade. Both of them were confuse on what Miguel was doing.

“Miguel?” Shade got up wondering what he was doing. She knows she took a nasty hit from Agony, but it was nothing she can’t handle. His back was facing towards her. She got up to touch his back till she noticed something off about him. 

“Where are your emotions?”

[mmorpg-escapism]

God, talk about shitty first impressions. Fourchenault is now another name on my growing list of punchable faces...

As a player? I hated this for the twins. Fathers are supposed to be guardians, protectors and guides of their families. We've seen a decent (but still imperfect! which is good for the characters) showing of that with Thancred and Ryne. Fourchenault's approach to the Twins feels like the writers looked at that good relationship and went "...but what if we didn't?"

(Cool Camera Angle stuff below the cut, it got long again)

Like, physically, his design is cool! You can see where the twins get some of their features. And I miiight be partial to that hairstyle, since Besany started Endwalker in it (she's in the banner on my blog :D).

But that's where my admiration falls off a cliff. He at least has the sense to be nice during the initial greetings, but when business starts... He's icy.

(Aside, I'm 1000% sure that folks who've been playing since 1.0 got way more out of the nod to Louisoix than I did)

Can we talk about the scene staging here for a second? The Twins standing almost halfway in between their father, a representative of Sharlayan, and Kan-E, a representative of Eorzea? The symbolism here is so heavy-handed but so good: Alisaie and Alphinaud are stuck in between wanting their father's adoration as all children do, and wanting to do what's best for the entire world which would mean opposing their father and homeland...

The camerawork continues this adversarial framing for the entire cutscene, as Fourchenault dismisses every attempt Kan-E makes at trying to convince him that the Final Days are actually a threat. And then Alphinaud, who really can't help himself, speaks. And the middle-of the road angle changes to side them with Eorzea:

And now the Twins have both put their foot in it. Alisaie, implying that by not joining the Alliance in stopping the Telophoroi/Garleans your father doesn't love his homeland will NOT convince him. It does the opposite, actually, and not only does he berate them for speaking out about a threat they KNOW is real - they went through Amaurot's Final Days, there's firsthand experience there - but he insults them AND the WoL, then disowns them on the spot.

The Twins are DEVASTATED. They were hoping for a happy reunion and a father who would listen to them with all the experience they've gained gallivanting around Eorzea and the First, and got... that. They're both angry - at each other, at themselves, at Sharlayan, at their father... It's interesting, they take on each others' characteristics when they get angry. Alisaie rambled on in her anger, where Alphinaud was at a loss for words.

As a writer with a character I am *going* to put through this, Besany will have to be stopped (by Alisaie of all people) from punching Fourchenault in the face after he disowns his children. She's going to berate him and he's going to walk away without a word. They will Not Get Along for a very long time after that.

For more to whet your appetite on Fourchenault, I highly agree with this post about the man save for the part about liking him. These are my kids now, buddy. You gave them up. They'll forgive you, but I sure as hell won't - so as long as they're happy, you're safe from me and my myriad ways of inflicting pain on someone.

[pies-writes-and-more]

covered in bruises

word count: 2,611

pairing: tsukishima kei x fem!reader

warnings: brief mentions of blood, nosebleeds, bruises, and scuffs/cuts, also a bitchy ex-boyfriend who sucks and shares some private pics. also some swearing cause it’s me (but i promise it’s fluffy!!!)

a/n: i genuinely have no clue where this idea came from but I’m a sucker for partners taking care of each other after a fight or something so tadah. thank you to @satan-ruler-of-hells for helping me with the ending and @thisnoodlewritesao3 for helping me with the title! i hope you guys enjoy!

haikyuu masterlist

A few years ago, if you had told Y/N Y/L/N that she would be answering a phone call in the dead of night from Yamaguchi, she probably would’ve guessed that the two of them had forgotten about some project they were supposed to complete and the pair would’ve spent all night working on it while Tsukishima slept peacefully knowing he had finished it.

What Y/N never guessed on happening was Tsukishima stumbling through her front door, only barely being held up by Yamaguchi, the blond’s face covered in scuff marks and blood dripping from his nose and lips.

“What the hell happened?” Y/N gaped, immediately rushing to Tsukishima’s other side and helping him into the kitchen.

“Don’t even get me started,” Yamaguchi grumbled, muttering something about keeping your mouth shut and never would’ve gotten into this mess.

“Stop grumbling. I’m fine. You’re fine. Everyone’s fine,” Tsukishima huffed, pushing the two of them off but swaying a little.

“Tsukishima Kei, what the hell happened to you? You look like you got into a fight!” Y/N stared at him for a moment, watching as his gaze flickered away from hers. She glanced at Yamaguchi, as if hoping that would bring some answers, but he just glared at Tsukishima as well. “I’ll get the first aid kit,” she said after a beat of silence, walking to the other room.

There was a flurry of hushed whispers as she left, Yamaguchi insisting to Tsukishima that he needed to tell her what was going and Tsukishima being blatantly stupid and insisting that there was in fact, nothing going on.

By the time that Y/N returned, hands filled with some spare tissues and bandages, sprays and cotton balls, Yamaguchi had thrown up his hands in the air in exasperation, “I give up. I brought him this far. He’s your problem now,” he groaned, shaking his head towards Y/N. “I’m sorry for dumping him on you, but maybe you can talk some sense into him.”

Y/N and Tsukishima watched as Yamaguchi stormed off, leaving both of them in an awkward silence.

“Are you going to stand there or are you going to help me?” Tsukishima grumbled after a bit, sitting down on a nearby dining chair. 

Y/N raised an eyebrow at him, part of her wanting to smack him in the head but thinking better of it considering his injuries. “Here, hold this to your nose,” she insisted, handing him the tissues as she glanced over his body. From what she could see, the most damage was on his face but if he could keep his nosebleed in order, she could tend to the scrapes and cuts that were starting to bleed on his knuckles.

Pulling up a chair next to him, Y/N sprayed some hydrogen peroxide onto his knuckles. Tsukishima inhaled sharply, pulling away from her grip as he winced, “What the hell is that?” He glared at her, trying not to make it obvious just how much that fucking hurt.

“Give me your fucking hands, Kei,” Y/N demanded, holding her hands out with another vicious look. “You gotta spray them before they get all infected.”

The boy hesitated before slowly letting her hands take his, bracing himself this time as she dabbed away the blood and finally wrapped it up in some medical bandages. “I’ll get you something cold for your nose, hang on,” she mumbled, shuffling to the freezer and digging through to find something helpful.

Tsukishima shifted awkwardly, trying to glance around at anything else so he didn’t have to sit in the silence. “Are you not going to ask?” He muttered out finally, avoiding her eyes as he checked to see how much his nose was still bleeding.

“How about I assume it was something stupid?” she quipped, bringing over a cold ice pack. “Here, I use this sometimes when my muscles hurt after swimming practice.”

He nodded slowly, placing it over his nose in hopes of bringing down any swelling. Now that he was sitting here and his adrenaline was going down, everything was starting to ache a lot more.

“It wasn’t stupid,” Tsukishima murmured, glancing at her for a moment. 

Y/N laughed a bit, shaking her head, “Sure it wasn’t.”

Tsukishima frowned tightly, watching her as she cleaned him up. Her fingers delicately working along his skin, checking for any other cuts or scrapes along his arm. “Why would it be something stupid?”

“Because, the Tsukishima Kei that I grew up with only fought with snarky comebacks and sneers,” Y/N laughed a bit at the memories, glancing up at him and brushing her fingers along the cut on his eyebrow. 

“Wouldn’t that mean that if I had to punch someone, it would be something serious?”

The girl couldn’t contain her laughter anymore, thinking about this string bean of a boy throwing hands, “You punched someone? It kinda just looks like you got used as a punching bag.”

“Hey, it was 3 to 1. And I left some pretty good cuts on them too, thank you very much,” Tsukishima groaned a bit as Y/N dabbed a bit of the peroxide on his eyebrow, swatting at her hand, “Okay okay. I think it’s clean now!”

“So if one of these gets infected, will you be bitching like a little baby then too?” She shot back, smacking his hand away from hers. “How’s your nose?”

Tsukishima pulled the tissues and cold pack away from his face, letting Y/N examine him, “Well, I don’t think it’s broken so you’ll probably be fine. Just don’t take a volleyball to the face anytime soon.”

He just rolled his eyes as she went to start a kettle, insisting that tea was good for healing. 

“If I asked what it was about would you be honest?” Y/N questioned as she brought over two cups of tea.

“Would you believe me if I said they had just such punchable faces?”

“No.”

“Then no.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, kicking at his shin from under the table and making him whine a bit more, “Hey! I’m bruised all over the place!”

“Tell me what happened! Yamaguchi thought I should know so why shouldn’t I know?”

Tsukishima just looked away, fingers drumming along the mug that was warming his hands. “Just... some dude doing some dumb shit. Saying stupid things about...”

“About?”

“About you.”

Y/N stared at him for what felt like an eternity. Tsukishima wasn’t exactly the number one best example of a friend. And it wasn’t like there weren’t people before who didn’t like her. There were bound to be people saying shit.

“What did they say? Do I know them?” She asked finally, thinking back about the list of people she had in her head who definitely didn’t like her.

“It doesn’t matter, they were just being idiots,” Tsukishima tried to insist, sipping at his tea. “I was just annoyed and so I called them out for it. And the one guy took a swing at me. Then we just... did what guys do, I dunno.”

“Is Yamaguchi okay?” Y/N’s eyes widened, looking at her front doors as if the boy would magically still be there. “Did he get hurt?”

“No way. If anything, Yamaguchi probably broke the one guy’s nose,” Tsukishima snickered, thinking back to the moment where one of the dudes crumpled up in pain after Yams smacked him around. 

Y/N nodded slowly, reminding herself to text the boy later and make sure he was alright. “You’re really not gonna tell me what they said?”

Tsukishima stretched his legs out slightly, getting more comfortable in the seat and avoided her eyes some more, as if pretending she hadn’t said anything. But the awkwardness exuding from him was very evident. “He just... said something about you being average... but still kept showing off these stupid pictures,” he finally muttered out, ears going red.

Y/N felt her heart drop a little. She didn’t need to hear anything more than pictures to know that her fucking ex-boyfriend was the one who was causing all this trouble. She had so many regrets about that relationship, and one of them was the photos that she had sent.

“I deleted them,” Tsukishima commented after glancing at her expression. “When I knocked him down I grabbed his phone and deleted them. I dunno if he has other copies somewhere but...”

Y/N practically threw herself across the table, wrapping the string bean boy into a hug. There was such a relief off of her shoulders, just knowing that Tsukishima had tried to get rid of them.

He grunted in response, pulling her closer into a hug but also shifting her weight around so it wasn’t on his side (which hurt like a bitch). “Stop doing stupid things for boys who are too dumb to realize what they have,” he commented, flicking her head.

She gave a little laugh, hugging him tighter for a moment before pulling away, “Yea yea... Does that mean I should stop taking care of you all the time?”

Tsukishima’s lips made a few protesting sounds, huffing before finally standing up and stretching. “I should get going. I don’t want you to stay up too late or you’ll be yawning all day tomorrow in math.”

Y/N smacked his arm a little making him wince a bit, which just made her laugh, “Go on then. Try to take a shower and ice your bruises. And next time you beat up my ex-boyfriend, call me so I can take a swing at him too.”

Tsukishima smirked and nodded, heading to the front door and slipping his shoes on. 

“Hey Tsukishima?”

He glanced back at her, surprised to find the nervous look on her face. She shifted on her feet for a moment before reaching up and pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek, “I mean it. Thank you.”

Tsukishima burst into a fit of stammers, insisting that it wasn’t that big of a deal and she shouldn’t make it into one, but his cheeks were glowing red while he waved it away.

The next day at school, Y/N couldn’t help but smirk when her eyes landed on her black-eyed and scuffed up ex-boyfriend. For a string bean, apparently Tsukishima was pretty good at landing punches. Maybe it was the snarky expression on her face, or maybe it was just because she had walked by, but before Y/N could rush past him, her ex-boyfriend stepped in front of her, glowering down at her. 

“Get out of my way, asshole,” Y/N huffed, stepping back slightly.

“You know, I always knew there was something going on with you and Four Eyes,” her ex told her in a low voice, arms crossed in front of his chest. “I should’ve known you were cheating on me.”

“Right, I cheated on you and then broke up with you for cheating on me,” Y/N raised an eyebrow up at him. “Get lost, idiot. I don’t have time for you.”

“You’re saying you weren’t seeing him behind my back? That it’s not suspicious that you two immediately started going out after we broke up?” His voice was raising, causing all the students nearby to glance in their direction, whispers filling the space around them.

“We aren’t going out,” Tsukishima’s voice thudded into the air, his heavy arm flopping onto Y/N’s shoulders. He patted her head gently as he gave her a simple smile before turning his glare onto the dude in front of him. “I didn’t ask her out when you two broke up. But if she’ll have me, I can do it here and now in front of you?” 

The offer stunned everyone around them, even the whispering bunches of teens who had come around to see if these two bruised and beaten up boys would end up fighting again. Y/N looked up at Tsukishima with wide eyes, heart palpitating against her chest.

“I knew you liked her,” her ex scoffed. “Too bad she’s too good for you.”

“Well if she settled for the likes of you, I must have a pretty decent shot. I might not be the best boyfriend material, but at least I know not to talk shit about a girl like Y/N,” Tsukishima snapped back. His eyes finally met Y/N’s and she had to wonder for a moment if he was being serious or just saying this to show up the asshole in front of them. 

“There’s no way she would go out with you-” the asshole glared at the two of them.

“Yes,” Y/N breathed out softly, both Asshole and Tsukishima’s eyes falling on her. “Ask me.”

Tsukshima’s usually scowling lips turned into a smile, patting her head and ruffling up her hair slightly, “Go out with me.”

Y/N nodded with a smile, still searching his eyes for any sign that this was a genuine interaction. 

“Finally,” Yamaguchi huffed from behind the two of them, grinning widely as they all turned to look at him. “The two of you look good together. Now hurry up, we’re going to be late to class.”

Tsukishima grabbed Y/N’s hand before she or her ex could say anything, pulling her ahead as they followed Yams to class.

“W-Wait, Tsukishima,” Y/N stopped in her tracks as they got outside of the classroom, Yams already heading in.

“What?”

Y/N watched him carefully, still unsure of his intentions. “Thank you, for helping me out back there but...”

Tsukishima’s eyes darkened for a moment, like he was coming to some sort of realization, “If it was just a ploy to you, it’s fine. We can just say it was to get him off your back, that’s fine.”

She grabbed his arm as he started to move away, frowning as she looked up at him, “N-No, that’s... I just wanted to know if you... if you meant it.”

As his eyes met hers again, he tilted his head slightly, “Meant what?”

Y/N sighed, knowing they were going to end up going back and forth on this topic if she wasn’t straight up wit him. “Did... Did you really want to ask me out?”

He gave a smirk and Y/N’s heart started to fall - so it had been a joke this whole time then. “Obviously I wanted to ask you out. I’ve been wanting to for weeks now. Did you think I would just ask you out for no reason?”

Y/N wanted to point out that he could have just asked her out to humiliate her ex but seemed to catch onto this and just laughed. “If you think I’d actually fight a guy for just anyone, you’re stupider than I thought.”

She pouted in return, hitting his chest in defiance, “Hey!”

Tsukishima laughed and flicked her forehead, smirking down at her, “Go out with me. Seriously this time.”

Y/N glared playfully at him, pushing at his chest a little, “Fine. But you’ve got to be a bit nicer to me.”

“I took punches to the face for you, how much nicer can I get?” Tsukishima scoffed but bent down and kissed her nose gently. “Now hurry up, we’re late now, idiot.”

Y/N couldn’t help but feel like everyone was watching them as Tsukishima interlaced their fingers together and pulled her into class, dropping her off at her seat and giving her a cheeky wink, before taking his next to Yamaguchi. 

She glanced at him every few seconds in class, pinching herself each time he would catch her eye and give her a small smile, wondering if her dreams had really come true. Had the guy she had fallen head over heels for really just asked her out?

Yes. And surprisingly, it was all thanks to her piece of shit ex boyfriend and a bloody nose.

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[helie-brain]

Troy (2004)

I recently watched Troy again, and I have to say that I really love the film. I understand that it’s not the greatest film and that a lot of people hate it because it is a horrible adaptation from the Iliad. But does it deserve all of the hate. I mean if you take away the aspect that it is supposed to be BASED OFF of the Iliad, its a great movie. 

The sets are beautiful and impressive.  You feel, or in my opinion, like you are in the city of Troy. Even when it is being sacked, you still get a feeling of how large the city is. Talking about the sacking,  the movie, the directors cut version, did not shy away of depicting how violent the sacking of the city can be; children being burned, women being raped, people hanging and much more. The costumes, even if they may not be accurate, are very beautiful and looks like a lot of work was put into them. Same can be said about the weapons being used. 

The fighting scenes are gruesome, realistic, thrilling and well choreographed. Especially when it came to Hector and to Achilles, it definitely shows why they are the greatest fighters of their time. Without dumbing down the other fighters. For example Hector vs A-Jax, it was a really close fight, with both getting some good punches, but in the end Hector won. And while they were fighting, the rest of the soldiers were fighting and not watching them with amazement. But the greatest fight scene would have to be Achilles vs Hector, no cgi, no stunt men, just two men fighting to the death. 

The characters/cast themselves were great and memorable. You cannot think of Hector without thinking Eric Bana. He played him so well, whenever he talked it felt like an actual leader was talking. Brian Cox was perfect for the role of Agamemnon, at times he was the best part of the film. His outburst were never played as a joke and were never overly emotional. He was not a dumb villain who only had one goal, his moves were calculated and there was always another reason at play. Even Orlando Bloom did a great job at playing a naïve, entitled, most punchable face, which is what Paris was; a prince who stole another man’s wife and started a war that resulted in countless deaths. 

My favorite character would have to be Briseis, played by Rose Byrne. She is a stubborn, fearless, family oriented, somewhat entitled person, who doesn’t want people to die; Greeks or Trojans. And is willing to put herself at risk so others won’t risk there lives saving her. Not to mention I love her dynamic with Achilles. Speaking of which, Brad Pitt did amazing job at playing an annoying, arrogant, childish, warrior with a cheeky heart of gold. Yes I know that in the Iliad or other related books, he has a romantic relationship with Patroclous, but honestly I like the idea that he his cousin that he must watch over. In my opinion it adds more pain to Patrclous’s death; not only did Achilles lose someone he loved but he failed as a guardian. 

I liked that they didn’t add Gods to the film, even though they were a big part in the books. The reason is that the movie would then be more about the gods than the warriors. Meaning that the choices and actions the humans did would not be so impactful since it didn’t come from them fully but were swayed by the gods. Also we the audience would not have much a connection with the humans if we constantly had to go back and forth between the humans and the gods. 

But again nothing is perfect, there are things in the film that I have trouble with. The main one being pacing, I understand that showing 10 years would be somewhat difficult. But make the war last longer than a few days, that way you can flesh out more the relationships and the characters.  Also how passive Helen was through out the film; I mean Hector’s wife was taking care of her child, dealing with the lose of her husband and in the end saving Troy. Briseis was trying to stay alive in the enemy camp. Helen just seemed to be sitting there and only making small attempts to flee back. 

But in the end it’s a film that is BASED ON the Iliad. And the primary purpose of a film is to entertain. Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk. 

[ifmywishescametrue]

i don't know if you're still taking prompts (so please ignore this if you aren't) but i cant stop thinking about your recent buckytony fic (and how much i love breaking up and making up as a trope) - so i was wondering if you'd be up for doing smth else w that trope for buckytony?? maybe they re-unite at a mutual friend's wedding?? and it brings up emotions about their almost wedding?? idk i just really love breaking up and making up as a trope and i really love your writing :))

thank you!! I'm very much up for doing another buckytony break up/make up, plus you deserve nice things for finishing law school - congrats on that!🎉🎉hope you like this one 😊

There's a ring on Bucky's finger.

It's the first thing Tony notices when he walks into the bar for Natasha and Sharon's joint bachelorette party. He stands there in the doorway, frozen and staring until someone clears their throat pointedly behind him, and he mumbles an apology as he moves out of the way.

He thinks about turning around and not coming back, just ditching the event entirely and maybe even the wedding tomorrow, but he tosses the ridiculous thought the second it comes. He promised Sharon when she asked him to be her man of honor that he could handle Bucky being Nat's. Living on the other side of the country afforded him to miss the rest of the events and planning along the way, and he could deal with one day of being cordial to his ex, even if the day comes with walking down an aisle together.

But now there's a ring on Bucky's finger.

The silver catches the light, and it's on prominent display with his left hand wrapped around a beer bottle. It shouldn't be possible for him to have moved on that quickly. Eight months shouldn't be long enough to bury three years of memories. Three years of hopes and dreams and plans for a future built together. Years of love so blindingly intense that it burrowed into Tony's soul to make a home and refused to be evicted just because it was supposed to be over.

Tony wonders what the timeline is. Did he find someone new while Tony was still just beginning to pick up his own scattered pieces? A first date for him while Tony was barely getting out of bed. When was it that he replaced Tony as the last person to have his heart? And how did he find forever in someone else so soon after losing the one he used to call his soulmate?

Natasha notices him first, still hovering near the entrance, and she raises a single eyebrow that calls him a coward. He rolls his eyes at the accusation, though it's accurate. She elbows Sharon to catch her attention, and before he knows it the entire small group is turning their heads his way, giving him no choice but to join them.

It's less bachelorette party and more pre-wedding celebration with the crowd they've gathered, all mutual friends of both brides with no regards for gender traditions that usually come with this night. Tony used to fit in well with them all, back when gatherings like this were just a typical Friday night. But he made himself an outsider between the move to California and the breakup with Bucky. All he has now with most of them is a dead group chat that hasn't been used in months. He wonders which one of them made the new one without him in it.

Sharon is the first to pull him into a hug, then Natasha follows suit. He gets a nod from Sam, a wave from Clint, and what might pass as a smile from Steve. Bucky stares so intensely that Tony can feel his eyes with his back turned, but when Tony looks his way, he pretends to be interested in the floor.

He had a plan before the ring threw him off. Step one should have been the entrance. Head held high, shoulders square, perfect outfit that shows everything off and compliments the Malibu tan he has now. Step two should be nonchalance. A light hearted greeting to everyone, accompanied by an easy grin and relaxed body language, and catching up with subtle brags slipped in. Show them all that he's doing better than he ever was, sitting on top of the world these days, even if most of the time it feels like he's barely above rock bottom.

Step three in his ideal scenario involved Bucky breaking down and begging to get him back. Some versions even had him on his knees for it, with tears running down his face. Others required it to be raining outside, and the cloudless sky ruined that before the ring on Bucky's finger did.

With steps one and three out the window, he tries to salvage step two.

“Hey,” Tony starts, a little too loud. He swallows the lump in his throat and tries again, “Hey, Bucky. It's good to see you.”

Bucky nods, a strained, jerky motion. “Yeah, you too. How, uh, how have you been?”

“Good. Really good, actually. Company just had its highest sales quarter yet, so it’s been a little crazy around there, but good.”

“Good,” Bucky repeats, and there’s a long awkward pause.

“And what about you?” Tony asks, and then because he can’t help himself, he adds, “I see you got engaged. Or, hell, I guess it could be married, even.”

Bucky freezes with parted lips and wide eyes for the briefest of moments, like he wasn’t expecting Tony to know about it or bring it up, and his eyes shift to the ring on his hand and stay there.

“Yeah,” he says slowly. “Engaged. Last week.”

Tony ignores the ache in his chest and plasters on a smile like he’s happy for him. “Congratulations. Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t know him. Steve introduced us. They work together.”

“So he’s at the museum then? I thought you used to say that you hated all those stuffy guys and Steve was the only one worth knowing.”

Bucky smiles, a fond thing that widens the crack in Tony’s heart. “Yeah, well, I guess I was wrong. Felix is a great guy.”

Tony resists the urge to roll his eyes. Stupid name that probably matches a stupid, punchable face.

Some masochist thing pulls at him to make him keep digging for more information, a twisted need to know even as each word pushes the knife in deeper. He aims for casual, leaning back against one of the high top tables as he asks, “So how long have you been together?”

“Just a couple of months. Kind of fast, I know, but when you’re sure about something, it doesn’t really matter, right? Why waste time waiting?”

“Right, of course,” Tony says, a little flatter than he intends. “So why isn’t he here tonight? Hope it wasn’t to spare my feelings, because it’s really not necessary.”

Bucky falters, “It’s not? You, uh, you’re dating someone, then?”

Tony nods, and he wishes he had grabbed a drink before this so he could hide behind it as he lies through his teeth. “Only a few weeks, though. A little too early to be a wedding date, but I’m sure your guy will be there tomorrow right?”

“Oh, um, yeah, definitely. Why wouldn’t he be, right? There’s no reason I can think of,” Bucky says, stumbling around it. “But tell me more about your thing. Your person. How’s that going?”

Tony shrugs, and he finally pulls off that easy smile he’s been trying for. “Well, it’s not get engaged in a couple of months good, but it’s been really great. We’re taking it slow. Trying not to rush anything and just get to know each other first. I think it could really be something, though.”

“That’s good,” Bucky mumbles. “You deserve something good.”

He isn’t meeting Tony’s eyes anymore, almost like he’s upset that Tony moved on, and the vindictive part of Tony wants to be happy about it, but another part wants to be angry because it isn’t fair. It’s not fair to act like Tony should stay stuck in time, forever longing for him when he already moved on with someone else first. It’s hypocritical and selfish, even if Tony is lying about there being anyone else.

“Well, I’m gonna go get a drink,” Tony says, pushing down every feeling. “Should catch up with everyone else, too, while I’m at it. I’ll talk to you later.”

He heads over to the bar and isn’t surprised when Sharon joins him a moment later, right after he orders a double shot of whiskey. She puts an arm around his shoulder and asks, “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Tony laughs, running a hand through his hair. “My ex is engaged to somebody else and apparently doing really fucking well. Meanwhile, I’m making up fake boyfriends that I’m taking it slow with, because last week I went on my first real date in eight months and cried in the bathroom in the middle of it. And then, at the end of the night, he literally told me to my face that he didn’t think a second date was a good idea. We weren’t even talking about it, Sharon. He said it unprompted when we were still ten minutes from his apartment, and I was driving.”

Sharon nods slowly as she processes the rant. “He told you he got engaged?”

“Yeah, thanks for not telling me, by the way. It was really fun to get blindsided by it.”

She ignores the complaint to ask, “What else did he tell you, exactly?”

“Oh, just the whole line about how you know when you know, and Felix is such a great guy, and all that bullshit.”

“Felix,” Sharon repeats.

Tony knocks back the rest of his drink and orders another. “Please tell me he’s not better looking than me. Tell me it’s a downgrade. Don’t lie, because I know I have to meet him tomorrow, but please give me something that will make this better.”

“Well, I can guarantee he’s not as attractive as you. But he’s a little too perfect, you know? Like how could this guy possibly be real, he’s so unbelievably perfect,” Sharon says.

“I told you to make me feel better, not worse.”

Sharon shakes her head with a smile, the arm around him tightening into an approximation of hug. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much. I don’t think they’re going to last. He’s kind of flaky, too. Always cancelling at the last minute and all that. Bet he won’t even show tomorrow.”

The amusement on her face that she’s failing to hide confuses him. He’s starting to feel bad, though, for making the night about him when it should be about her and Nat.

Resolving not to dwell on it anymore, he squeezes the hand on his shoulder and says, “Alright, enough sad drinking, and definitely enough about me. We’re celebrating you and Nat and a lifetime of sickeningly wonderful happiness for both of you.”

Sharon grins, “Hell yeah, we are.”

“Shots?”

“Is that even a question?”

_____________

He wakes up with a headache and hazy memories. Shots of tequila that turned into shots of vodka when Nat got involved, then Clint’s terrible suggestion to try a shot of every liquor they had to offer. He vaguely remembers the round of toasts and drunken impromptu speeches from everyone, locking eyes with Bucky and failing to look away on both their parts. There’s a blur of wandering hands and heated, messy kisses. A bathroom stall turned into a cab ride which turned into his hotel room. He knows what he’ll find next to him when he opens his eyes, and guilt comes in full force.

“I know you’re awake,” Bucky says, voice still rough with sleep. It used to be Tony’s favorite sound in the world. “And I know we’re both sorry about what happened, but pretending to be asleep isn’t fixing nothin’.”

Tony shifts over to his back, and if there was any question before about what happened between them, the all too familiar ache in his body would answer it. He stares up at the ceiling to avoid the acres of bare skin on display next to him.

“You should probably leave,” Tony says to the walls. “I’m sure your fiancé is wondering where you are.”

“I doubt it.”

Tony puts an arm over his eyes, partly to block out the light that makes them ache and partly to hide his face. “Just go, okay? It was a mistake, and it won’t happen again, and we don’t have to talk about it.”

“Was it a mistake?” Bucky asks. “It didn’t feel like one to me.”

He doesn’t answer, and it’s soft and broken when Bucky says his name. Too much for him to handle.

Tony pushes back the blankets and searches for Bucky’s clothes in the mess they’ve made. He finds the shirt first and throws it at him. “You’re engaged, which means it was a mistake.”

His boxers are on the back of the couch, jeans right in front of the door, and they join the pile on Bucky’s lap. “You promised the rest of your life to somebody else, and I’m pretty sure fidelity is supposed to go with that.”

He tosses a shoe in the general direction of the bed, and it hits the nightstand with a loud thud. The second shoe is still in his hand when Bucky gets up and walks over to him, taking it and letting it drop to the floor.

His eyes hold a level of intensity that Tony has spent months dreaming about, and Tony couldn’t look away or move from this spot even if he tried.

“Felix isn’t real,” Bucky says. “I made him up when you asked, because I didn’t want to tell you the truth that I haven’t moved on in the slightest. That I’m so pathetic that I’ve spent the last eight months wearing an engagement ring that I bought for a guy who doesn’t love me anymore because I don’t know how to let him go.”

Tony stops breathing. “What?”

Bucky slides the ring from his finger, holding it between them so Tony can see the inscription. Always yours. He can’t remember the last time he heard the words get spoken.

“When?” Tony asks hoarsely. “When did you get that and why didn’t you ever ask me?”

“About a year ago,” Bucky says, slipping it back on his own finger. He sits back on the edge of the bed and stares down at it, twisting it around. “I thought about doing it on your birthday, but Nat and Sharon had just gotten engaged the week before and I didn’t want to take anything away from them. You were working a lot of late nights after that, and I thought it would be better to wait until things slowed down. You were so tired all the time, and you deserved a better proposal than when you’re falling asleep in the middle of dinner. It never slowed down, though. And then you got that big promotion and somehow we fell apart instead. If I’m honest, I still don’t really know how. One minute I’m getting ready to come with you, and the next you’re telling me not to bother.”

Tony sits down next to him, shoulders touching, and he pulls Bucky’s left hand into his. “You didn’t really want to go.”

“That’s not true,” Bucky says, but Tony shakes his head.

“All you talked about was how much you would miss New York. How much you’d miss your friends and your family and your job. Every day, everywhere we went. Even the fucking hot dog stands got sonnets about them. It really didn’t take a genius to figure out that you weren’t exactly looking forward to leaving.”

“I still would have gone for you,” Bucky argues. “I told you I would go anywhere with you, if it was what you wanted.”

“And then what? You move with me, and you’re miserable all the time, because my job never slows down so I’m still not around as much as you want, except now it’s compounded because you’re in a city that you hate with no one else that you know. You resent me for making you go, and the outcome is the same in the end either way.”

“Or I move with you, and I finally ask you to marry me like I’ve wanted to since almost the day we met. I find new friends and a new job, and even if it’s not perfect, it’s still worth it because at the end of the day I have a husband coming home to me.”

Tony runs his thumb over the ring and murmurs, “I wanted you to be happy. I didn’t think I could do that for you anymore.”

Bucky cups his cheek, tilting his head up to meet his eyes. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but baby, you’re an idiot.”

“Oh, thanks,” Tony laughs.

“You’re my idiot, if that helps.”

Tony smiles, still fragile but growing more hopeful. “Am I?”

“Always have been,” Bucky says. “Always will be if you stop assuming I’m going to leave you all the time. Let me decide for myself what I’m willing to sacrifice for us.”

Tony nods slowly, then says, “I’m sorry for ending it like that.”

“I’m sorry for making you feel like you had to.”

Tony climbs into his lap, circling his arms around his neck, and Bucky pulls him in closer with his hands on Tony’s hips. The ring is strange to feel against his skin, but also completely right. He wants it to stay there and to mean what it was always supposed to. Wants one of his own to match.

“We can fix it, right? We can be us again?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky says, and Tony’s heart sinks for just a moment. “Is your boyfriend as real as my fiancé?”

Tony laughs again in relief, “Yeah, they’d be a good pair.”

“I knew you had to be lying. You’ve never taken it slow in your life,” Bucky grins.

“Do you want me to start now?”

Bucky flips them over in one fluid motion, and he kisses up his throat as he murmurs, “Absolutely not.”

[kylorengarbagedump]

Defy Your Authority: Chapter 1

Read on AO3. Part 2 here.

Summary: You’re a Lieutenant, stationed on Orinda. You’re content with your trustworthy crew, but issues with a certain ship (spoiler alert: it’s the TIE silencer) end up trapping you on the Steadfast, instead. Your relationship with Kylo Ren isn't how you left it. How many more messes can you stand to clean?

(Yes, this is the sequel to Fix Your Attitude.)

Words: 4500

Warnings: None. Yet.

Characters: Kylo Ren x Reader

A/N: Umm... hi!! I don't have much to say other than I'm very excited to post this, and I really hope you enjoy it! I love you all so much. I'm genuinely lucky and grateful to have you in my life.

You weren’t ready.

Since the alert had come in that the First Order would be sending a transporter to Orinda, your hands had been jittery. There’d been no indication, no hint as to what your team should be expecting when they arrived. In the four months since you’d arrived at the fuel post, you hadn’t received a single visitor from the brass.

“Hey, Chief.” 

The voice called you as you were chest-deep in a pile of fuel-cells. Grunting, you wrenched yourself free, patting the reactor dust from your uniform. Certainly there was some in your hair, too. 

“Hey, hi Tonis, what’s up?” You tried to restrain your anxiety to the perimeter of your mind. “Can, uh, can I help you?”

Tonis, your third engineer, sighed, wrangling his hands together as he looked to the ground. “Do you know what’s going on with this transport unit arriving?” His thin lips twisted in a frown. “They’re saying that they might be shutting the post down.”

“Oh, jeez.” You shook your head, grabbing a rag from the terminal and wiping your hands. “No, no. Nothing like that. I’m sure.”

“Okay,” he said. “Good. I really, really, really don’t want to be moved. Again.”

Grimacing, you looked at your reflection in the terminal facade. “I know.”

“Orinda’s really great,” he said. “All the different ships we get to work on. And it’s so quiet. And our team is so great--”

“I know.” You mussed your hair, as if shoving dirty fingers through it would improve its appearance. Incredibly, it did not. “They’re only sending three people. I’m sure it can’t be that big of a deal.”

“But that’s the thing!” he said. “Don’t you think that a transport unit with only a few passengers must be here for something super-official?”

Your chest seized, and you cleared your throat, turning back to him. 

“Maybe.” You ignored the hot burn of your cheeks. “Guess we’ll see when they get here.” 

The terminal blipped, a familiar pattern that indicated the atmosphere had been breached. It’d been awhile since you’d felt like you had the power to summon anything of importance with a single thought. The reminder tweaked your heart. 

“Or… I guess we’ll see now.”

Tonis squealed, running through the post. “Hey! Hey guys! The First Order’s here! The First Order’s arrived!”

Sighing, you looked into the terminal again. Four months hadn’t changed your appearance too much. Not that it mattered. Or it might. But you wouldn’t worry about it. Only a little.

You steeled your nerves and walked out of the hangar into the dusty outcropping of the fuel outpost. Flat land stretched for miles in diameter from your station, a rolling pitch of blue mountains in the far distance, the wind whipping across the plains, rustling the dry grass. Shielding your eyes with a hand, you gazed up and spotted the transporter, a blooming black spot in the cloudless sky, quickening the pace of your pulse with every passing second.

It was just a transporter. He wouldn’t be on it. There was nothing to freak out about.

Tonis had gathered the rest of your massive crew--all three of them, him included--and they surrounded you, faces taut with anticipation.

“What do you think it is, Chief?” That was Mirna, your second engineer, a short, wide-set thing, with buzzed hair and a gruff voice. “You think they’re shutting the place down?”

“She already said she doesn’t think it’s that,” Tonis replied.

“Well, yeah, but then, why are they just sending three people?” said Lin, your mechanic. 

“There’s plenty of reasons they could send three people,” Tonis said, as if he hadn’t just been agonizing over that very issue just minutes ago.

Mirna snorted. “Like what?”

“An announcement,” Lin said. “Maybe they’re canvassing all First Order planets.”

You nodded, chewing your cheek. “Sure. That could be it.”

“Or maybe it’s a survey!” Tonis was almost wiggling with excitement like the little nerd he was. “Does anyone else love filling out those weird surveys?”

“No, nerfherder,” Mirna teased, grinning. “Just you.”

“Could be an escort.” Lin shrugged. “Maybe they’re here to pick someone up.”

Mirna laughed. “Oh, come on,” she said. “Who in the stars could they have an interest in on this planet?”

Blood blazed your face. “It’s a mystery.”

You hadn’t told anyone since arriving what had brought you there or why you’d come. You hadn’t told them when you’d first landed that you still had the cum of the Commander of the First Order leaking out of your cunt. You hadn’t told them that just hours before, he’d held you in his arms, brought you into his mind, and shown you--with a breathless, crushing tangibility--how utterly and completely he loved you.

You hadn’t told them, either, that in the days, weeks, months following your arrival, you hadn’t heard from him at all. 

With a dying wail, the transporter hovered and landed, spitting up a ring of dust that smacked you in the face. You sputtered, wiping your eyes, the rest of your crew apparently victims too. Frowning, you crossed your arms, brow cocked as the ramp whined and descended. Something akin to fear needled your heart in the empty space between the sound of footsteps and the emergence of two Stormtroopers stomping to the ground. 

Something that was definitely fear gripped it as those two troopers were followed by a man you’d hoped to never, ever see again.

“Engineer.” General Hux had somehow lost none of his smarmy, pink-cheeked smugness--his refusal to say your name was out of petty spite at this point. And his face was just as punchable as you remembered. “I see you are, for once, prepared for our arrival.”

“What sort of facility chief would I be if I didn’t stay on top of our arrival queues?” You hid your hands behind your back to hide their quaking. “Though I believe my rank is Lieutenant, now, sir.”

“Lieutenant,” he replied, with the same amount of disdain he’d probably afford a crying child. “I imagine it’s the lack of distraction.” He smirked. “I loathe to think of the productivity you would’ve had on the Finalizer with a similar environment.”

“Oh, as do I, sir.” You offered him a gleaming smile. “I can’t imagine a punishment worse than being in your good graces.”

“Chief,” hissed Mirna. “That’s a General of the First Order. What are you doing?”

Cursing internally, you pinched yourself, stood straighter. Your team would have no idea why you felt so comfortable mouthing off to a man who, otherwise, might’ve had you thrust into the bowels of space by now--and to be honest, you didn’t have much of an idea why at this point, either. Your presumed protection was hardly a current presence in your life. 

You shook your head, wagged out your hands. “Let me try again, sir.” Clearing your throat, you continued, “General Hux, sir. To what do I owe the honor?”

Hux smirked. “As much as I hate to interrupt, Lieutenant,” he said, continuing to let the word drip with more venom than a snake ever could, “I’m here to order you to come with me onto the Steadfast.”

“The Steadfast?” Obviously the name of a ship, but not one you were familiar with. No news bulletins had made their way to Orinda in the time you’d been stationed. “Why?”

“The Supreme Leader’s TIE fighter has ceased functioning. Every engineer we’ve brought to it has failed to diagnose the issue.” His jaw tensed in real, actual reluctance. “We were at the border of the Rim, and unfortunately, I thought of you.”

You blinked. He wanted you to work on Snoke’s TIE fighter? 

And then another question: Snoke had a TIE fighter? 

“Uh…” Frowning, you glanced around at your crew. You couldn’t stand the thought of leaving them for days on end. “How long will I be gone?”

His face betrayed nothing but pure disgust. “As long as it takes you to fix a TIE fighter.” He watched as you paused in thought. “I wasn’t offering you a choice, Lieutenant. We’re leaving now.”

With that, he turned on his heels, marching up the ramp. A long, slow breath left your lungs, and you turned to your team, scanning their faces for any reaction. To your surprise, everyone but Tonis seemed rapt in excitement, eyes wide and chins wagging in awe. 

“I had no idea you were such a big shot!” Lin grinned. The other two nodded in agreement.

Blushing, you rubbed your arm in embarrassment, looking between them. “No, no,” you said. “Nothing like that.”

“You have to tell us the story, one day.” Mirna was smirking.

“Uh… Right.” You coughed. “So, hopefully I’ll only be a day or so, max,” you said. “Mirna, you’re in charge while I’m gone.”

“You got it, Chief,” she said. “Tonis, my first order is for you to please calm down.”

He shot her a glare. “Good luck, Chief!” He offered you a salute, which was both strange and unnecessary. “We’ll be thinking of you!”

Warmth spread in your chest. “I’ll be thinking of you guys, too. Don’t make too big of a mess, okay?”

“Yes ma’am!” they replied in unison--and then broke into laughter. 

You shook your head, finding yourself laughing with them. “Okay. See you guys soon.” 

Bowing your head, you trudged up the ramp into the transporter, taking a seat far away from Hux and the two Stormtroopers. You wondered why he’d bothered to bring them to a tiny outpost like Orinda, but you supposed that self-importance and paranoia knew no bounds in the higher ranks of the First Order. 

As the door closed to the transporter, your heart wrinkled. In the past few months, despite your open ache, Orinda had become your home, your crew had become something akin to your family. You hoped the issue with the TIE fighter was something stupid, like a busted hyperdrive. They were simple to repair, but most engineers wouldn’t mess with lightspeed travel--the mechanisms were so delicate that even a simple mistake could result in splitting the ship. 

The transporter rose into the air, and in seconds, it burst into the sky. A windowless cargo meant you could only imagine the faces of your crew as you disappeared into the horizon. You sighed, watching your feet as they jostled with the jerking of the ship. You weren’t sure what the Steadfast was like, but apparently Snoke had moved his operations there. Though you still had no clue what Snoke looked like, you’d never imagined him to be the type to fly--but perhaps a Supreme Leader required multiple skillsets.

The awkward ride finished without a single word being exchanged between you and Hux, which was fine by you, and possibly finer by him. When the ramp lowered, he speared you with his gaze, waiting for the troopers to exit before standing and ordering you to follow him with only his eyes.

You tromped down the ramp into the hangar on the Steadfast--it looked almost identical to the one on the Finalizer. The ceilings stretched high, like a giant’s mouth, the magnetic shields glowing teeth at the lips of the bay. Ships buzzed above you, racing in and out of their docks, the floor crowded with soldiers and officers alike. 

The rush hit you--sure, the time on Orinda had been fantastic, engaging, rejuvenating. But it would never match the thrill of working in the presence of fleets and fleets of warships, surrounded by the heady spell of urgent, prestigious labor. You sucked it through your nose, held it in your chest, unable to stop your eyes from lingering on every busted ship they saw. In the distance, a team huddled around the smoking wing of a TIE fighter--you bit your lip to prevent yourself from racing over, from tearing it apart for them.

Another thing you weren’t able to stop looking for was any hint, any presence of the Commander--but in the bay, you didn’t even catch evidence of the Command Shuttle. It was a huge assumption to guess he’d be on the Steadfast to begin with, but part of you hoped he’d trailed his precious Supreme Leader to any place he was ordered. It figured that the one time you might have been within thinking distance, he’d managed to make himself scarce. 

Another twine in your heart snapped, joining the collection that’d been unfurling since you’d departed the Finalizer. 

Yes, he’d said he would find you. You still believed him now, even. 

But really. What was taking him so damn long?

Hux led you to a wide dock toward the very front of the hangar. The crews you spotted along the way seemed detached, working without words, communicating with gestures and mirthless expressions. Tonis’ silly salute would never happen here. You frowned. The lack of thrill was worth your autonomy.

“Lieutenant.”

A snap of your head, and you blinked. You were in front of your charge. 

This TIE fighter was unlike one you’d ever seen. Instead of the flat panel wings, this one bore talons, sharp knives capable of cutting space and possibly any ship in its way. Red-paned transparisteel formed the cockpit into a muzzle, imitating an animal instead of a sphere. And it wasn’t a ball suspended on plates, but was rather tucked tight into the body of the ship, creating a seamless, dynamic transition that to you, seemed so new, so modern. It was almost--sexy? 

You looked to Hux. “Are you sure this is the one that isn’t working?” Lips parted in awe, you stepped up to it, placing a hand on the solar array. “It’s gorgeous.”

“The Supreme Leader has been unable to fly it for cycles, now,” said Hux. “I’m sure.”

“All right.” You rolled your eyes. “Got it.” 

What you needed was a post-flight report. You strode over to the nearest terminal and entered your credentials--thankfully, as a Lieutenant now, they were universal to the entire First Order system. Only one ship was logged underneath the access: TIE/vn space superiority fighter: SILENCER.

“TIE silencer?” you mumbled. “Where do they come up with these names?”

You investigated the reports in the past several cycles that detailed the attempts by engineers to get the thing working: thrusters aligned, check. Solar lines flushed, check. Refuel port cleansed, check. Heat calibration reset and replaced, check. 

And yet with each new repair--engine test: fail. 

Engine test: fail. 

Engine test: fail, fail, fail. 

Screwing your lips in thought, you landed on the post-flight report, hoping it would provide you with insight. If he knew what was good for him, Supreme Leader Snoke would be thorough.

You opened the report, and paragraphs of information flooded the screen. Your jaw dropped. Every single system had been left with a meticulously in-depth account of its status before, during, and after flight. The level of specificity contained within each sentence astounded you. It was almost unbelievable that a single person could remember this much, let alone regurgitate it with any level of accuracy. You groaned, lost in Basic.

Hux cleared his throat. “How long do you anticipate this taking, Lieutenant?” 

“As long as I--...” You stopped yourself with a grumble. It would be much easier to hear it from the tauntaun’s mouth, instead of pouring over and cross-checking every single detail. “I’m not sure, General. Is there any way I could speak with the Supreme Leader?” 

A strange, smug look passed over his face. “Certainly,” he replied. “I’ll take you.”

You blinked. That was easy. Almost too easy. “Uh… okay.”

Hux turned on his heel, clipped stride cutting through the hangar. You hadn’t been prepared to meet the Supreme Leader when you woke up this morning, but you supposed anything was possible when working for the First Order. Swallowing, you shut down the terminal, and followed him into the halls.

Returning to a Star Destroyer, in a way, felt like home--the glossy black tile passed like a familiar path beneath your feet, and you spared fleeting glances to the Stormtroopers who passed you. The halls of the Steadfast maintained their similarity to everything else on the Finalizer--though that did nothing to assuage your anxiety about the memories you’d had on that ship. Or who may or may not be on this one. 

“Do you work on the Steadfast, now, sir?” 

Hux was silent for a moment, gaze trained forward. “Yes. The Finalizer was decommissioned.”

“Wait, really?” Your heart thumped. The only datapad message you’d received from your friends had come in the first few weeks after your departure. You just assumed they’d been busy. “What happened?”

“A Resistance attack left it crippled,” he replied. “Leadership and surviving crew were transferred to the Steadfast.”

Terror seized you, your pace quickened. “Sur-surviving crew?” you asked. “Sir?” More silence. You stumbled to catch up with him, fighting the tremor in your voice. “Sir--”

“Engineers Foster and Loren were transferred to this vessel unharmed, Lieutenant.” He leered at you. “Satisfied?”

You heaved a massive sigh, hands falling to your knees. They were here. You’d have to catch up with them, soon. 

“Yes, sir, thank you--” 

By the time you’d finished, he’d already managed to make it what seemed to be fifty paces ahead of you, and you scrambled to keep up with him. 

As you did, a grey-haired man emerged from the corner in front of you both, and Hux stiffened, cursing under his breath. Raising a brow, you tried to meet this man’s gaze, only to bump into the general, who’d stopped, limbs pinned to his sides.

“Shit!” Your face burned, and you jumped back, snapping to attention. “I mean, uh, sorry, General, sir.”

The look Hux offered you was similar to one a parent might offer a simpering child. Right before they murdered that child in a fit of blind rage.

“General Hux,” said the grey-haired man. “Just the one I was looking for.” 

“Allegiant General Pryde.” Hux’s chin jutted to the ceiling. 

The Allegiant General Pryde turned his attention to you, glimpsing your uniform before meeting your eyes. “I’m afraid we’re not acquainted, Lieutenant…”

You gave your name. “Sir.” Clearing your throat, you continued, “I’m Chief of Operations on Orinda.”

“Ah.” His gaze lingered on the fuel cell filth smattering your chest. “Of course.” Something within his eyes categorized you in league with rodents--and something else within them told you he crushed rodents for sport. “Interesting.” His attention whipped back to Hux. “General. Regarding the Council meeting…”

“I plan to present the Supreme Leader with my plan, sir.”

“I know you do,” Pryde replied, “but you failed to run it by me.”

Hux’s jaw tensed. You wished you were anywhere other than this extremely awkward hallway meeting that had absolutely nothing to do with you.

“Forgive me, Allegiant General,” Hux said, “but I didn’t think a basic unit efficiency research required your approval.”

“Everything requires my approval, General,” he said. “Lest we forget the errors of Starkiller Base.”

That was a low blow. You gulped. They both looked at you, and you cleared your throat again, throwing your hands behind your back. The energy radiating from Hux could be classified as skin-scorching. 

“Of course.” Hux’s tone grew tighter with each word that left his lips. “I’ll remember that next time, sir.”

“Good.” Pryde glanced between you. “What brings a facility chief from her station all the way to the Steadfast?”

“The Supreme Leader’s TIE fighter, sir,” Hux replied, still staring into the air. “She may be the only engineer capable of repairing it.”

The Allegiant General frowned. “Really. How many resources did you expend picking up a single person from a remote outpost?” he asked. “Do you not consider this to be something I should know?”

“It was a brief excursion,” he said. “I took two Stormtroopers and a single transport unit.”

“Was that unit’s excursion approved?” He circled Hux, a silvered predator, sizing up his prey. For once, you almost felt bad for the ginger bastard. “What if Resistance staged an attack while you were gone? If we needed that unit for more than a handful of bodies?”

Hux’s lips pursed, chin dimpling with tension. “I don’t know, sir.”

“And how do you think the Supreme Leader will feel knowing you acted without approval, all to retrieve a single engineer?”

Silence drifted like fog over the three of you, thickening as this grey-haired power-laden dickhead glared at General Hux. But Hux’s back had aligned, parallel to the wall, every flicker of frustration fled from his frame. The tiniest hint of a smirk curled at his mouth.

“I think he’ll be just fine with it. Sir.” Hux’s brow quirked. “We’re on our way to speak with him now, if you’d like to accompany.”

Pryde grinned, a serpent’s twist to his smile. “Your confidence has failed you in the past, General,” he replied. “Lead the way.”

You trailed behind the Allegiant General and Hux, fingers starting to quake. Now, you’d not only be meeting the Supreme Leader still smothered in space dust, you’d be meeting him accompanied by the two biggest assholes in the First Order--second only to one other, perhaps. 

Unfortunately, that particular asshole was a ghost to this ship, and there wasn’t anyone in particular you felt comfortable asking about him. If Hux had been superceded by this new jerk, the last thing you wanted was another opportunity for someone with rank greater than your own to question you about your personal relationships. 

Dread pooled in your belly. Supreme Leader Snoke did know about your personal relationship with the Commander. In fact, Snoke had been the one to insist you be his conduit, among other insulting things. You imagined him bringing it up: Ah, yes, the engineer, the distraction… and how have you been, without his cock inside of you?

You shook your head. No, it didn’t make sense for him to bring up his apprentice’s dick at your first meeting. Or any meeting, for that matter. You hoped.

The two men led you through the rest of the journey in silence, animosity prickling like durasteel barbs in the air between them. At least your own team didn’t regard you with vibrodaggers behind their backs--as far as you knew, anyway--and the realization, against the backdrop of your current situation, had you aching to leave. The discussion with the Supreme Leader would be swift and succinct; you’d get the information you needed, diagnose the problem, and be on your way back to Orinda. 

In front of you, a massive turbolift sang its arrival, blast door whirring open. You followed the two men inside, heart tingling. Maybe part of you had been hoping that your long-awaited reunion would have occurred during your time aboard--as you thought it, you tried to stymie the resentment that you’d waited this long at all. The rational part of your mind reasoned that he was a busy man, that lack of contact didn’t indicate lack of thought. 

But every other part of your mind was staving off bubbling despair. Four months had felt like four years, and you’d only grown more desperate, more anxious for his embrace--then furious that he didn’t appear to return the sentiment. 

You knew how he felt. So it didn’t make sense, then, why he hadn’t acted on it for even a single, solitary night in the past sixteen weeks.  

When the blast door opened, you crossed the threshold into an obsidian sanctuary. The floor gleamed, a black lake of glass sweeping into high ebony ceilings that twinkled with artificial stars. The only other illumination came from two enormous spheres that hung, suspended in air at opposite ends of the room, their surfaces a swirl of white-grey light, imitation suns with colorless coronas. At the far end of the room was a hovering stone throne, six dark figures crowding it in a crescent. 

Your heart stammered--you’d seen them before. In memories that hadn’t belonged to you. All of them were outfitted in clothing that seemed familiar, helmets that hid their identities, and each of them possessed a weapon meant explicitly for assassination. The only conclusion you could draw was that they were the Supreme Leader’s bodyguards. 

Whoever they were, to you, they were ominous.

The two men in front of you strode forward, and you followed, catching your reflection whispering by your shoes: your hair was mussed with evidence of engine exhaust, your uniform still glowing with smears of ionization. Internally, you cursed yourself. Yeah, this was exactly how you’d wanted to look when meeting the Supreme Leader of the First Order--like complete shit. Stomach sinking, you sidled behind them as they stood at attention. 

“Supreme Leader,” they said simultaneously.

As if on command, the wall of shadowed soldiers parted to reveal the throne. 

But no one was there.

You blinked. “Oh.” 

Hux’s head swiveled between the strangers in front of you. “Where is he?” He turned to Pryde. “These are his receiving hours--”

“Yes,” replied the Allegiant Asshole. “But perhaps he’s departed early for the Supreme Council meeting. We’d be better off--”

The turbolift doors wailed behind you, and like synchronized chronometers, you, Hux, and Pryde spun to meet the new arrival. 

Your brain went blank.

Kylo Ren crossed the shimmering sable floor in a confident stride, his robes replaced now with padded armor that clung to the contours of his powerful, thick chest, his broad shoulders covered with a hooded cape. His fists, still bound in leather, flexed at his sides--and his face... 

More beautiful, more arresting than you could have conjured in any memory, his lips still pink and plush, his nose still a long line, his hair still rolling in waves, like black silk-velvet at his shoulders. You met his eyes as he advanced, finding them guarded, resurrecting every fear and insecurity, tempering them with hidden warmth. 

“Generals.”

The voice was lightning through your limbs, its owner a perfect match to the soft baritone you’d replayed in your dreams for the past one hundred and fifty two days. All of your systems leapt to life at once: brain spinning, heart soaring, adrenaline coursing. Sweat soaked your neck, your figure thrust whole into a furnace.

“Sir!” Both bowed their heads.

Gazing at him, then, you realized what was happening. This was his throne. You were working on his TIE fighter. Kylo Ren, your lover, your obsession, your galaxy was now the de-facto leader of the actual galaxy. You weren’t in love with the First Order’s Commander, anymore. 

You were in love with its Supreme Leader. 

Shock anchored your mouth open. Your eyes welled with latent tears. You grinned in disbelief.

“Dude!” You laughed. “What the fuck!”

[oinkz]

dilemma

— one late night, iwaizumi finds you at his door, drunk on fatigue and desperate to be held. he’s all but willing to give into your desires, however, he’s in the middle of a slumber party with his best friend. (gn!reader)

— tooth-rotting fluff, slight iwaoi, 2.3k words

“How did you even drive here? You can barely even walk,” your boyfriend wonders out loud, wrapping his arms around you to carry you bridal style and push his front door closed.

“I can manage,” you reply simply. It was a bit dangerous - getting up and having to unlock your car during this hour, but with the way Iwaizumi holds you, you forget all about that immediately.

All you know is that he’s warm, and he makes the perfect remedy to your insomnia. Already, you can feel the ache in your bones melting away with his touch.

You hum into his neck, your mouth naturally forming a dopey grin. “Mmmm, I like this.”

For a moment, he allows himself coo at your adorable state. How could he not? With every second, you’re losing sense of your surroundings. The more dazed you become, the firmer your embrace around his neck is. It’s a testament as to how much you trust him, and how much his presence comforts you.

But the fond gleam in his eyes is quick to fade when he reminds himself that just a few rooms away is Oikawa setting up for his 20 step nighttime routine -  even on a sleepover.

Usually Iwaizumi grumbles about how it’s only one night - he can go one day without partaking in his entire skincare routine and come out okay - but today, it’s a blessing. Because Oikawa has no clue that you two are dating.

He’s suspected it, sure, but he’s never pushed it.

So, this is a bit of a dilemma. You’re exhausted and so deserving of an entire night’s worth of rest, but this was nowhere close to how your boyfriend wanted to come forward with his relationship with you - to be found cuddling in the living room. Already, Iwaizumi can hear the teasing comments of his best friend, and dare he says it, he’s a bit scared.

Iwaizumi is known to be a tough love sort of guy, so what is Oikawa supposed to think when he finds the ever so rough-around-the-edges spiker so weak in the knees? He’s spent far too long trying to break down tough exterior for you - to love you wholeheartedly... However, pride is a dangerous thing.

He doesn’t feel the need to have dignity around you. You have seen him in four out of five of his Godzilla onesies, and he has guarded the outside of a public restroom when your stomach had a very apparent reaction to the ice cream he had bought earlier that day. There is no need to be prideful in a comfortable, loving relationship.

But with Oikawa? Iwaizumi is a complete narcissist. Ever since his early childhood days, there was always something so fulfilling about beating him. Just recently, Iwaizumi was laughing over how the lunch lady gave him an extra loaf of bread, whereas Oikawa only received one.

Iwaizumi knows his best friend well enough to predict that Oikawa is going to be the bane of his (and your) existence. He’s going to tease and laugh, and as tough of a cookie your boyfriend is, there is only so much he can take before he starts to become self conscious about his affection.

Very subtly, Iwaizumi loosens his grip on you. Perhaps, out of nervousness.

“Could you let go for a bit? I’m gonna set you down on the couch,” he says, and you audibly whine.

“Noooo,” you slur out, lips pushed into a pout. “Then you’re gonna leave.”

“.... I’m not going to leave.”

It’s true - he wasn’t. But he at least wanted to distance himself enough so you two were in a less... intimate position.

“I’m so tired... please, Haji.” Your voice is barely a breathe, and instantly, his eyes soften.

He sighs reluctantly, pulling you in closer once again.

“Okay, baby. I won’t leave,” He whispers into your ear, so gently that it almost makes you sob. Maybe it’s the effects of sleep deprivation making you more emotional, but you swear on your life that you love this man.

You let out a sigh of satisfaction before planting a kiss on his neck.

“Why do you seem so tense?” you ask, taking note of the visible muscle tension on his shoulders.

“It’s just...” he starts, hesitantly. “Oikawa’s over for a sleepover tonight.”

“... He is?”

“Yeah. He’s in the bathroom right now, actually.”

You contemplate for a bit, dark thoughts creeping into your head. “Are you... ashamed of me?”

“No, y/n, of course not. You’re perfect,” he assures you without wasting a second. “You know how Shittykawa can be, though.”

“So, annoying?” You suggest.

“And troublesome,” he adds with a small smile.

“And obnoxious.”

“And punchable.”

“And loud.”

“And a pain in the ass.”

You burst into laughter. “You love him.”

Iwaizumi can’t help but break into a wide grin at the sound. “Don’t say that in front of him, though, or he’ll never shut up about it.”

Soon enough, you two are on the couch, limbs tangled together. Very slowly, your consciousness is slipping through your fingers as he draws ‘I Love You’s into your skin and talks about anything and everything. It’s sweet, natural, and nothing short of intimate.

“He’s going to be super annoying about this,” He grumbles. Though you were only half-paying attention to what he was going on about, it didn’t take much for you to understand he was talking about his beloved, Oikawa.

You sigh, and the ever so self-sacrificing part of you feels guilty. 

“... I’ll leave if you’re not ready to reveal us to him.” Your voice is suddenly serious.

However, Iwaizumi only flicks the back of your head in amusement. “And why would I let you do that? You practically sobbed when I asked if I could let go of you.”

“Shut the fuck up,” You hiss between the teeth of your growing smile.

At this point, you two are giggling on the couch like a loved up married couple... which is essentially what you two are. Except, not married. 

But Iwaizumi can see it - him and you under the altar. He can see the subtle changes in you, in your demeanor, and how comfortable you’ve grown to become with him. It’s an indicator that this was real, healthy, yet exhilarating all the same. And that was all he needed to know that he was going to be stuck in this thing with you for... a long time.

“Fuck, I love you,” Hajime tells you for no reason other than to say them. His laughter has died now, and he’s pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You have to clench your teeth to stop your heart from bursting right then and there.

“I love you, too,” you whisper back, weakly. You don’t even realize that that was all you needed to sleep, because momentarily, you’re letting the tide of his breathing guide you to a slumber.

He leans downwards to kiss your nose, but with the way your nose scrunches in response, he can’t help but peck you again. One kiss becomes two, two becomes three, and shortly, he’s smothering your face in kisses.

“You’re so cute,” he murmurs without thinking. “Wish you would take care of yourself more, though.”

As if you can hear him in your sleep, you shuffle slightly, nuzzling into his neck.

Opting not to speak any further, he closes his eyes, trying so hard to stop smiling. But you’re here, arms wrapped around him like your life depends on it.

What time was it, again? Why were you two on the couch instead of his bed? Your relaxation is so contagious, Iwaizumi’s surroundings are becoming some sort of blur.

He even forgets what letter he left off on as he was writing ‘I Love You’s on your back, so he ends up writing ‘I Lvve Yoou’ instead this time. He takes it as a sign that he should probably sleep as well.

Right before he falls asleep, he lets himself have one last thought. Maybe if he pulls you in closer, he’ll find you in his dreams, too—

“Well, well, well,” a voice from afar cuts into his train of thought, and instantly, Iwaizumi’s weariness disappears. His eyes snap open, and there Oikawa was, standing by the entrance of his living room.

The grin splayed across his lips is wicked. Too wicked.

“Never thought I’d see you so soft, Iwa-chan,” The brunette mused.

Iwaizumi pushes his lips out to form a menacing glare, but if anything, it comes across as intimidating as an angry chihuahua. “Go away, Shittykawa.”

As if he doesn’t hear his best friend, Oikawa continues. “I’ve always had my suspicions... but this is something else.”

“Yeah, you caught us,” Iwaizumi sighs out, defeated. “This wasn’t how I wanted to tell you, but they couldn’t sleep at home so... here we are.”

Oikawa squints his eyes behind his spectacles, forming a thoughtful expression.

“... I’m happy for you,” he finally settles with, after a long moment.

Unknowingly, Iwaizumi tenses in your arms. He prays to god that you don’t sense it.

“What?” he practically whispers, dumbfounded.

The brunette has to suppress a laugh.

“I’m happy for you,” Oikawa reiterates, stronger this time. And he really is.

Tooru has watched the spiker since he was just barely five feet tall, followed him around when he would catch bugs and set them free, took him in many times when he caught a fever, paid for practically half of his Godzilla merchandise, and now... he’s watching Hajime lose himself to love. He’s touched, really.

(Although, he wont lie - Oikawa finds it hard to believe Iwaizumi managed to find someone before him.)

“Thanks,” Iwaizumi mumbles, uncharacteristically awkward.

Oikawa smiles. “Y/n’s out of your league, by the way.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, because he definitely knows. And once again, their dynamic is restored to its friendly nature.

“Go to sleep, Trashykawa. You can take my bed.” With that, Iwaizumi boyfriend pulls in closer to his chest.

The brunette nods, “Alright, alright. Let me get a glass of water, first.” He takes a few steps forward and the hardwood creaks from under him, causing him to blush in embarrassment.

“Wake them up, and I’ll kill you,” Hajime shoots the setter a look.

Oikawa huffs, offended. “So mean, Iwa-chan! Not my fault your floors creak!”

“I said go to sleep!” Now, Iwaizumi is glaring daggers into his best friend.

“Okay, okay,” his best friend raises his arms in surrender. “Geez, you’re too—”

“Do you guys ever shut up?” You ask suddenly, voice lower than usual. Iwaizumi instantly reddens in shame.

“Sorry Assikawa’s so loud,” your boyfriend whispers.

“I heard that!” Oikawa whines, pouting at both of you.

You frown. “You’re just as loud, Haji. I’m right in front of you.”

“... I’m sorry, baby.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” Tooru mimicks, voice two octaves higher.

“Shut up, Shittykawa,” you and Hajime retort in unison.

“I take it all back, Iwa-chan. You both are big meanies,” the brunette cries, and suddenly, your boyfriend is sitting up and leaning forward to reach a sofa cushion that’s rested on top of his feet.

Oh, Lord.

More playful jabs are thrown at each other, and next thing you know, Iwaizumi and Oikawa are thrusting sofa cushions at each other. You sit up as well, arms crossed in annoyance.

Under normal circumstances, you would join in on the fun and gang up on Oikawa with your beloved boyfriend. But these are not normal circumstances. You are currently running on three hours of sleep, and to put it simply... you’re cranky. So cranky, you could punch someone without feeling even a bit of remorse.

All you wanted was to get a full eight hours sleep in your boyfriend’s arms for the night, was that so impossible? Well, apparently it was, because the chaos runs for another half an hour without rest.

And all you do is sit in the middle of it, hoping to pass out already.

Unfortunately, you do not pass out, and you have to weakly force yourself to get up from the sofa and into your boyfriend’s room to finally gain a bit of attention.

“Sorry,” Hajime mumbles as he enters the room, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

“Whatever,” you murmur into his pillow, burying your nose into his very own scent.

The bed dips from beside you, and an arm slithers around your waist. To his surprise, your grip around his pillow only tightens.

“Aw, baby...” He whisper into your ear sadly, and you hate how you can feel your body subconsciously wanting to move in closer.

But you don’t, all due to pride.

“We’ll sleep in the entire night, okay? Tomorrow, too,” He tells you, rubbing gentle circles into your stomach.

“‘Jus wanted to sleep...” You breathe out, your cheeks warming at how emotional you sound right now. Damn you, sleep deprivation, you curse inwardly.

“And you can,” he says softly. He kisses your shoulder and makes his way up to the back of your neck, slowly and so, so affectionate. “Just c’mere already. You’re too tense.”

You groan because he’s right, and he always is. You want to punch the stupidly big grin on his face as you begin to turn and face him, pressing your chest flush against his.

He’s a human heater so perfectly made for you. Immediately, his warmth seeps past your skin and goes right through your heart. You nuzzle your nose into his neck, immersing yourself in him completely.

You can’t really breathe all that well in this position, but whatever. You could suffocate in his arms, for all you cared. This feels too good, and you’ve lived a good life, anyway - a good enough life to have this teddy bear of a man be your lover.

“Good night, Hajime,” You say, muffled against his skin. You can’t see it, but his eyes light up with adoration.

“Sweet dreams, my sleepy baby,” he coos, peppering the top of your head with kisses.

Needless to say, you ended up getting ten hours of sleep that night, and in that time, Oikawa rewatched ET and made a full batch of pancakes all by himself. So much for bonding and spending extra time with his best friend.

[moonprlsm]

like waves, you pulled me in.

also on ao3

_

"Eat up, lovely."

This had to be a dream. With how her head was throbbing or the way every corner of the room looked a tad bit blurry, there was a huge probability that Lumine was either dreaming or completely losing it. Yes, perhaps it was just the latter, which was why she was having hallucinations of Childe, eleventh harbinger of the fatui, wearing an apron in her room.

She blinked at him twice.

"Still sleepy, huh? Should I give you a kiss to wake you up?"

Great. The Childe in her hallucination was as punchable as the real one.

Her eyes dropped to the bowl of Adeptus Temptation he placed on her bed, the savory aroma of fresh seafood and spices hitting her nose, making her mouth water. It looked as if it belonged to Xiangling's best dishes and if Lumine's mind wasn't such in a haze, she would've gulped the whole thing in one go.

There was just no way the man sitting in front of her, firstly, was really here and secondly, was the one who made the appetizing stew just as he claimed.

She gave her legs under the blanket a pinch.

The sting made her bite her lip.

Archons, this was real. She wasn't sure if that was to her liking or not.

"If you stare at that for too long it might get shy and run off."

"What exactly are you doing here, Childe?" She almost didn't recognize her own voice from how dry it sounded.

"Way to treat your awesome nurse for today, lovely." He said teasingly as he moved to the near table to pour some water. "Here."

She took the glass in his hand. Ignoring the beat her heart skipped as her hands brushed with his warm ones, she finished the whole glass in a couple of gulps. Lukewarm water slid through her throat with ease. Never in her life had she thought of missing the non existent taste of water.

"Good?" He sat by her again, closer this time.

"Yes, thank you. But you didn't answer my question."

He let out a chuckle, grabbing back the glass in her hands. "I'm here to take care of you, obviously."

"What do you mean? I'm perfectly fine." A throb in her head went a little harder than normal, almost making her wince.

"Oh? So why did you pass out near a waypoint earlier then?"

"I–"

So that was what happened. Just moments ago, she woke up to the warmth of her bed in the Inn she was staying at in Liyue. She was supposed to meet Childe for their weekly sparring sessions after her long... mission. Lumine couldn't really remember traveling to said Inn.

The last thing she could call to mind was an image of blue eyes filled with worry, accompanied by an alarmed voice calling out her name and the feeling of strong, lean arms lifting her from the ground with ease.

Lucky for her she was already burning up or else he would've noticed the tint of pink growing on her cheeks.

"Don't worry, lovely–" The nickname didn't help her either. "I called a doctor to check on you earlier, said you just have a common cold. The fainting was probably caused by stress or lack of sleep– Hey, what are you doing?"

Lumine tried to move the bed table so she could free her feet from the blanket. "Going to do my mission." She shivered once a leg was out. It was peak noon.

The bastard cleared his throat after accidentally letting out a snort. "You're not going anywhere in that condition. Paimon's already talking to Katheryne, she'll cover your commissions for today." His hand went to put the covers back on her.

"I'm not talking about Adventurers' Guild."

"Hmm? Then which mission is it?"

Curious eyes landed on her tired ones. She hesitated. It wasn't like she didn't trust Childe, she'd let him hold his hydro sword by her neck for all she cared. He was a friend first and foremost before a harbinger. Putting more of her baggage on him was the last thing she wanted to do. He had accompanied her in a lot of commissions, thrown enough mora, beat up enough hilichurls for her. It was about time for her to stop relying on him for she didn't really need most of his help in the first place.

Although, having him around was refreshing in a way. She didn't mind his company. Not one bit.

"It's... Nothing important."

"Then it could wait until you're better, yeah?"

A defeated sigh. "Right. Why do you have to be my pseudo nurse, though? Don't you have work?"

"I got nothing to do today, lovely. I'm all yours. Besides, Paimon asked me to stay with you specifically. She was really excited about it too for some reason."

Lumine suddenly had the urge to put the little guide in a burning pot. She knew she should've kept the strange feelings Childe was giving her to herself until she exploded. One moment he was the most annoying person to ever exist, the next he was giving her stomach fluttering sensations she hadn't experienced before. Asking Paimon of all people about what these feelings could possibly mean was her first mistake.

"Paimon thinks you have a crush!" She squealed.

"I have a what now?"

Childe's voice interrupted the Paimon recipe she was planning in her head. "All you have to do today is rest, alright? I think your fever has gone down a little bit after your nap but–"

The spaces between them were already so small, it would be easy for his hands to reach her forehead, which she assumed what he was about to do. Until he moved closer and closer. He cupped her cheeks gently and she stiffened.

It was softer than she thought, his hand. She almost indulged to his touch. Childe leaned forward, their faces were then close enough to the point where she could feel his breath on her lips.

She could only hope he couldn't hear how hard her heart was beating right then.

Were his eyelashes always this long? Were his eyes always this blue? At that moment, she wanted nothing more but to explore those ocean eyes of his, wanting to know what the world was like in his point of view.

Archons, help her. The strange feeling in her stomach was back.

His forehead rested on hers and she shut her eyes. He let out a knowing hum. "You're still burning up, a little warmer than earlier too." The man finally pulled away. She wasn't sure why disappointment weighed in her chest at the lost of his touch. "This fever of yours is intense."

Oh, it was definitely not the fever.

"I'll go get your medicine. Have some spoonful of this stew first. I didn't put poison in that, I promise." He gave her a reassuring smile before getting to his feet. She watched him walk out of the room as her heart continued to thump on her chest loudly as if it was about to break out.

It was rare for Paimon to be right.

Lumine was convinced this was one of those occasions.

-

Her brother was walking away.

"Aether!" She tried calling him, but the sound might've got lost in the pitch black void they were in for his feet didn't stop moving.

She was running then yet she still couldn't seem to catch up to him. No matter how fast or slow she moved, he remained out of reach. The distance just kept getting bigger and bigger and bigger.

No, please. Don't leave.

"Aether, come back!" Her voice trembled, tears stinging her eyes.

Aether's voice echoed in the void. "You've come too late, Lumine."

The moonlight by the window welcomed Lumine's eyes fluttering open. She blinked away the tears blurring her vision, giving her a clear sight of the ceiling and the rest of the room.

A dream. A realistic, horrendous dream that was.

She took a second to take a couple of deep breaths, steadying herself. She was fine, everything was fine. Her brother was still out there, he was alive, she still hadn't found him but there was already a lead.

A lead that took her nowhere even after searching non stop for more clues these past few weeks.

Her chest tightened. A sob came out of her as tears started flooding her eyes again.

"Lumine?" She was so lost in her own world that she didn't even notice the person lifting his head up from the edge of the bed. The moment he saw her in that state, Childe was immediately by her side. "What's wrong? Are you hurting somewhere?"

The genuine concern in his voice would've made her heart feel warm if it weren't being torn to pieces by her own thoughts.

"N- No." She managed to say while sitting up. He guided her back, worried her trembling arms couldn't support herself. A damp towel fell from her forehead and he caught it before it even landed on the bed.

Memories of someone wiping her neck and face with said towel while she was sleeping, relieving the heat her body was radiating suddenly flashed through her mind.

"Then what's the matter?" The warmth of his hand enveloped hers, rubbing his thumb against her knuckles delicately. "Tell me. Please."

There were bags under his eyes. They've always been there, but tonight they seemed more prominent than usual. What time was it? She couldn't tell, but Lumine had been seeing herself in the mirror for the past few weeks, she knew what someone who haven't had a blink of sleep looked like.

She probably interrupted him from his nap just moments ago too. Being a pseudo nurse shouldn't be taken seriously, but she should've expected nothing less from someone who committed to the act of being a regular toy seller just so he wouldn't ruin his brother's innocence.

Putting others, especially his family, before himself. Perhaps they weren't too different.

With that, she found her voice again. "I had a nightmare. My brother, he– I couldn't catch up to him. He told me I've come too late." She said in between sobs.

Holding her cheeks gently, Childe wiped the tears running down her face. "It's okay, lovely. A dream doesn't reflect what's happening in reality."

"But what if it does? Paimon and I received information that could help our search just a few weeks ago. I've been traveling to all these different places, just looking and looking for more leads but I've been met with nothing but dead ends. What if it's because Aether's not here anymore? What if he's–"

She was pulled into a tight embrace before she could even finish the horrifying implication.

The seaside had always been so calming. Waves creating harmonious splashes, the sand hugging her feet, and that fresh scent. Childe provided that same comfort, like an ocean wave washing all her bad thoughts away. Lumine buried her face on his chest, letting herself drown in him.

His hand soothed her hair. "So you've just been looking without a hint of rest these past few weeks?"

She gave a weak nod.

This side of Childe wasn't unfamiliar, of course. Though, she wondered if holding people when they were feeling down was a habit of his.

And if it was possible for him to hold her closer.

A chuckle. "You were really planning to face your brother all restless and sick? I don't think he'd be too happy to see you faint once you find him." He held her tighter as if hearing her wish. "And I know you will."

He said those words so sincerely, so confidently that it made the tension in her body disappear slowly.

They stayed close like that for a while. Just the hero of Teyvat and her savior for the night in comforting silence by the moonlight.

It was incredible how easy it was for her to break down her walls when it came to him, how it felt like the weight of the world wasn't on her shoulders whenever he was there, how his laugh and random stories alone could erase all her worries, how she could just be a lost girl missing her brother instead of a powerful traveler in his arms.

"You're a strange pseudo nurse." She broke the silence first. "But thank you. I'll continue my search tomorrow. Though, we could still have our sparring session, how does afternoon sound?"

Pulling away, he beamed at her hopeful smile. "I'd like that. Only if your fever is fully gone tomorrow."

"I don't think I have it anymore right now."

"I'll be the judge of that." Once again, he pressed his forehead onto hers, closing his eyes.

Moments passed and he still haven't said a word. She debated whether she should tell him or ask if she was still burning up.

Lumine just ended up getting lost in his touch, letting the waves crash against the shore, fresh water hitting her skin as it washed away the burning sand.

[ethereal-blossom]

Hi, I could ask for scenarios and headcanons for dazai, chuuya, kunikida, akutagawa when they go on missions and their s / o stays home with their child. where the toddler gets a high fever. s / o is very unsettled, bombarding with phones but they don't answer. s / o is a wife, thank you very much☺️😌

a/n: oh, a mix between angst and fluff! i love it ❤ i hope you don’t mind that i split the request in two 🙈 i changed my scenario limit to two, because they take longer to make than headcanons. i decided to make an ada part and a pm part. i hope you enjoy part one🦋 part two

🚨warning(s): slight angst

masterlist

dazai: 0.9k+ | kunikida: 0.8k+

dazai could feel his heart beating in his throat, but not for the reason you would expect from a man who was the target of fire shots. kunikida and him being surrounded by armed men wasn't dazai's biggest concern in the slightest. instead, they were obstacles.

dazai's phone rang again for the fifteenth time in the last few minutes. he could feel it vibrating in his pocket, yet your phone calls had never been this much out of reach before.

it was a rare thing for dazai to feel distress during missions, but this was the exception. the image of his sick baby girl haunted his vision and dazai lowered his head. he had observed how tired his daughter looked before leaving: there was no doubt in his mind that you were calling him about your angel.

nevertheless, dazai had no choice but to go on the emergency mission after the president himself had called him. before he went, dazai had asked you to call him if things escalated. the only thing dazai desired at this very moment was to go home to his wife and daughter.

the bullets flying around his head weren't allowing it though.

the mission continued for another halve hour. that were thirty minutes filled with worry. the phone calls and the messages had stopped for now. however, dazai couldn't figure out if it was something to be relieved about or not. it was one of those peculiar moments in which dazai couldn't predict what had happened, mainly because of the white panic that blinded his mind.

kunikida opened his mouth to speak to his partner, but he changed his mind quickly after seeing the look on dazai's face. "what's wrong, dazai?"

"y/n tried to contact me." it was the only thing dazai could say at the moment. his phone was stuck to his right ear and your panicked voice made his heart go numb. announcing that he would leave immediately, dazai rushed back home to you and your daughter.

now it was his time to call you. 

___ 

dazai stopped before your house. he allowed himself for a few seconds to control his breath and then entered your house as the calmness itself.

it was a relief you had picked up the phone when dazai tried to reach you. only you would have sensed the panicked tone in dazai's voice, which is why you had immediately ensured him that everything was okay.

dazai followed your voice that came from the bedroom of your little monkey. the girl spotted her father straight away and called out his name. her opened arms welcomed the tender figure of her dad's body.

a sigh of relieve left your lips when you saw how tight dazai hugged your daughter. everything was okay. you looked at dazai who was kneeling in front of his daughter. his facial expression radiated calmness, but you could tell something was off. "how are you feeling, little monkey?" dazai asked his daughter.

"i was feeling really sick! but mommy took care of me," she replied and then she pouted. "i'm really tired though."

the next few minutes dazai was asking questions about what happened: which symptoms she experienced, how she was feeling now, what you did to lighten up the symptoms- he tried to remember everything what mori had told him about the human body and its illnesses. relieve washed over your husband once he realized that everything was indeed fine. "mommy is going to get a glass of water for you, okay?" dazai looked at you from the corner of his eyes. you responded with a nod and left the room.

dazai kissed his daughters hairline and she giggled. however, his lips tingled. a fever indeed. dazai cupped his daughter's burning cheeks and caressed her skin with his thumb. he looked her in the eyes, her mother's eyes. and she was just as strong. "you're doing so well, monkey."

when the little girl drank the water you had brought to her, her eyes slowly closed, a peaceful look painted on her small face.

"i'm sorry for bombarding your phone. i knew you were in an emergency, but... i was really worried about our sweetheart."

"there's no need to apologize, love. you handled the situation wonderful. i couldn't have been more proud of the both of you."

dazai grabbed your hand and the both of you watched over the little girl that had stolen your hearts. the troubled restlessness finally washed away with the sound of your daughter's soft breathing. nevertheless, the instinct to protect his family still lingered through dazai's whole body. "i should have predicted this. i should have taken action earlier."

you tightened your grip on his hand. “don’t be too harsh on yourself, dazai. you handled this situation wonderful. i couldn’t have been more proud of you.” 

dazai looked at you with his head slightly tilt. he couldn't help but smile. you had used his own words against him. how cruel, how smart, how touching. he paid attention to your calming orbs that had kept him grounded for as long as he had known you. dazai's lips were on yours in an instant. his lips moved tender yet intense against yours. the way he loved you...

surprisingly, it was dazai himself who broke of the kiss. he rested his forehead against yours. there was only one thought running through his mind at that specific moment: he would always protect the two most important women in his life, whatever it takes. 

the sun was standing at the top of the sky when kunikida looked at his perfect schedule.. well, it was supposed to be perfect. surprisingly, it wasn't dazai who was the cause of this ruination. the mission was supposed to be simple yet it had taken three hours and 35 minutes instead for the planned one hour and three seconds. this was a disaster. kunikida tried to control his breathing, tried to convince himself he could fix this tragedy. he grabbed his pen and started to mumble while organizing his chaotic schedule.

however, he was soon interrupted by his partner. "what, dazai? we are two hours and 40 minutes behind and if you don't....... HOW DID YOU GET MY PHONE?" kunikida was ready to waggle his way towards dazai, to steal his phone back and to show exactly how punchable dazai's face looked. would he lose precious time? yes. but he couldn't let this slide.

"ow, kunikida. where's the trust in the most trusted detective from the agency? besides, you dropped this during the mission." dazai's clown behavior disappeared like snow in the sun when he continued. "y/n tried to contact you multiple times. i think it's serious."

dazai blinked for a moment when his hand was suddenly empty. kunikida had to remind himself to breath, to not let the worry get to him. he had to keep his head cool. then why was his heart beating so painfully in his chest?

kunikida was sure he yelled something at dazai- probably that his partner should have mentioned this sooner - but he didn't have the time to care about anything else than the reason of your phone calls. were you and your son okay?

he listened to your voicemail, but it wasn't able to calm him down. in contrast, it was like oil thrown on fire.

his son had a high fever. kunikida's voice sounded on edge when he said: "you have to work without me today, dazai. my family needs me."

____

kunikida tried to reach you, but it was no use. you had sounded so panicked over the phone- it made him run faster. your husband stormed into the house, immediately asking where you were.

"i’m here." your raw voice came from the living room. kunikida was met with two of the most important people in his life lying on the couch. The redness from your eyes and cheeks told him that you had been sleeping. did that mean-? 

kunikida moved over to you as fast as he could and knelt down next. his sight focused on the toddler in your arms. he was still peacefully asleep. kunikida put a hand on his son's head, then a kiss and felt the hotness radiating from the touch. suddenly, your husband couldn’t wait any longer and asked every single question that was on his mind. 

“it’s okay, doppo. the fever decreased after i had tried to contact you. i gave him some medicine, water and i checked in on him multiple times. why didn’t you pick up your phone though? that’s nothing like you."

the rope that had cut into kunikida’s lungs finally loosened up. he started to explain how he lost his phone while his schedule was getting slowly ruined. "and this time it isn’t dazai to blame?" you joked. 

"i have to process it, too.” your husband had, without realizing it, been stroking the arm of his son with his thumb. you couldn't tell if he did it to comfort his son or himself. nevertheless, kunikida said shortly after that he would bring your son to bed.

you agreed and took the time alone as an opportunity to calm down and progress what had happened today. a sigh left your lungs. this was peaceful.... okay, too peaceful. how long is doppo taking?

you walked over to your little bean's bedroom, deciding to check out where the men you loved the most were hanging out. your heart practically melted when you entered the room.

kunikida was lying next to the small boy. however, when you looked closely, you were met with wide open grey eyes. experience told you that the haunted look on your husband's face wasn't caused by only the high fever of his beloved son. "what is bothering you, doppo?"

"my ideals. you tried to contact me when you needed me and i wasn't here. what would have happened if the fever didn't decrease? what if it has escalated and i wasn't here to be there for you and our son?"

 you grabbed his hand and kissed the top of each of his fingers. red blushes appeared on kunikida's cheeks and his eyes were now widened for different reasons. "then i would have handled it, with or without you. i know you had a tough day, love. i don’t blame you for anything. you shouldn’t do, too. i love you and you are here. that’s all that matters, right?” 

you grinned. oh, that color of red on kunikida's cheeks was definitely a new and deeper type of red. his love for you was overwhelming, and he couldn't wait to show you how much.

[violetlou2020]

DAY 02 of @flufftober2021

Sneaking Out Together

Title: In this Moment [Chapter 1]

Author: Vividly_Violet

Fandom: Tokyo Revengers | 東京卍リベンジャーズ

Rating: General

Relationship: Mikey | Sano Manjirou/Takemitchy | Hanagaki Takemichi, Mitsuya Takashi & Takemitchy | Hanagaki Takemichi, Hanagaki Takemichi & Toman Gang

Word Count: 1864

Chapter 1

School just ended and Takemichi wanted nothing more than to go home, eat dinner and then pass out on his bed. It's been a tiring week what with the constant chaos his life has turned out since joining Toman and subsequently dating its leader.

Even before he joined the gang he was already a trouble magnet as the rest likes to call him. Attracting unwanted attention especially from other delinquents that has him ending up bruised and hurting, it's made 10x worst with Mikey added in the equation since anyone who has a grudge against Tomans president or wanted to increase their street cred keeps targeting him since word got out of their relationship thanks to said leader blabbering their status to everyone they meet as a form of showing his possessiveness.

He also has a very punchable face as Baji would laughingly put it and Chifuyu couldn't even refute nor defend him from that statement. At least tomorrow was the weekend. The mizo middle all have different plans for tomorrow, Toman doesn't have any scheduled meeting or any upcoming fight, Mikey and his sister along with their Grandfather are suppose to go on a trip today according to Hina who heard it from Emma herself. So no clingy boyfriend trying to monopolize his time. Finally. A weekend all to himself.

Or so he thought.

"What are you all doing here?" he asked flatly at the crowd gathered in front of his house.

"Takemitchy~ why a sleep over of course!" Mikey exclaimed excitedly.

"Sleepover? I didn't hear any of this. Weren't you and your family supposed to be on some trip." the teen exclaimed.

"Bailed on them, why do I have to hang out with them when I can spent my time with you." Takemichi blushed at that but shook his head. No he will not fall for Mikey's cliche yet none the less sweet words.

"But why at my house, no one informed me of any sleep over."

"Huh, didn't Mikey texted you." Draken asked.

"I didn't received any." Draken turned Mikey.

"Oi didn't I tell you to inform Takemitchy." the taller teen smacked their leaders head.

"Ehh I forgot. Uhhg you keep hitting me, that's why I keep forgetting things." Mikey whined.

"You've been hit by a freaking metal pipe before, the hell does my smack have anything to do with you not texting Takemitchy." Draken hissed at the shorter boy.

"It does so!"

"Why you—"

"I guess we couldn't impose on you like this." Mitsuya said side eying their commander and vice commander who were now pulling at each others hair.

"Who cares we're here, might as well get on with it." Baji said pushing himself from the crowd towards the front door before Chifuyu stopped him.

"Baji-san we came here unannounced. That's rude."

"Sorry for the trouble." Mitsuya apologized. Bless the only reasonable man in Toman, Takemichi thought.

"Ahh no no, don't apologize Mitsuya-kun, it's okay. We can uhh have the sleep over." Takemichi quickly said.

"You don't have to—"

"No, no its really okay. You guys are already here. It'll be rude to turn you away plus— wait where are they?"

"Huh? Oh those guys." the pale lavender haired teen sighed and face palmed as he watch his friends make their way into the house without letting its resident welcome them in.

"How'd you open the door!" the awfully blonde haired teen exclaimed.

"I have a copy pf your key!" said Mikey spinning the key on his finger.

"How!?"

After Takemichi successfully convinced Draken to take the key and compromising that he'll be the one holding it, much to Mikey's pouting or threat all of them gathered in the spacious living room.

"So what are we gonna do?"

There was a chorus of "Movies"

"Video Games"

"Board Games"

"Food"

There was a short pause. Everyone looking at each other and before you knew it the gang erupted into a shouting match on what to do first with Mikey loudly whining about being hungry as he threw wrappers on the others head and Baji almost breaking a vase. It continued for a while until Takemichi had enough of it.

"SHUT UP!"

Everyone quieted down, not used to seeing the crybaby loose their temper except for when Mikey and Draken broke some of his stuff but even then the pair couldn't take it seriously because of the dog shit situation.

"But I'm hungry." Mikey whined. Takemichi dragged his hand across his face. He went to the kitchen and came back with a pack of cookies.

"Here. Share." he glared as he handed it out to his boyfriend who reluctantly had the others get one before hoarding the rest to himself and nibbling on the treat.

"I guess that's the extent you're willing to share."

"Why don't we play some video games while others the boardgames before dinner then we can watch a movie after. How does that sound?" Mitsuya, being the only rational person in the group suggested.

"Tch fine." grumbled Baji.

"That sounds okay." Chifuyu said as he swatted his captains hands from taking his cookie. Draken shrugged in acceptance while Mikey gave a thumbs up as he stuffed his face with more cookies.

Takemichi gave Mitsuya a grateful look before showing Chifuyu where the video games and board games were stored.

"Ahh shit. I forgot, I don't have much in the fridge right now. I was planning on doing the groceries tomorrow but I guess I'll have to do it today."

"I'll come along with you. Might as well help out." The second division captain offered.

"Ahh thank you so much Mitsuya-kun! I'll meet you outside then, just let me change out of my uniform."

After Takemichi changed he rushed downstairs and shouted at Draken to keep the damage to his house to a minimum before grabbing Mitsuya's offered helmet and mounting the bike. The pair then drove off to the nearest grocery store.

🔹🔹🔹

After thirty minutes or so the pair returned to a still standing Hanagaki residence much to their relief even thou there were scattered scrabble pieces lying everywhere, Chifuyu sitting on Baji's back as he and Draken Play Mario Cart, the first division captain struggling to remove his vice off him and chess pieces in the fridge when Takemichi went to put away some of the stuff they bought.

"Why are there chess pieces in my fridge?"

"Mikey was being a brat, he put them there after he lost. Against Baji of all people. Now he's sulking at some corner." Draken explained without taking his eyes of the screen.

"I was not, Baji was cheating!" came Mikeys protest from the corner of the room. He was not sulking there. He just thought that the plant was better company than his friends. Takemichi just laughed nervously at them at least nothing was broken before going back to the kitchen to prepare their dinner. Mitsuya was already there preparing the rice. After he placed it on the rice cooker the two worked together to making karage.

"This is the last batch." Mitsuya said as he placed the floured chickens on the pan.

"Ahh thanks, can you ask the others to prepare the table. I'm also finishing up the side dishes."

"Sure."

It was Chifuyu and Draken who came up to set the table working carefully to not disrupt the two who were finishing up their cooking. Takemichi placed the bowl of Kinpira gobo — a salad made of braised burdock root and carrot — in the middle besides the platter of karage before washing up and removing his apron.

"Dinners ready!" he called out and Mikey and Baji came running to the kitchen.

"Calm down you dogs." Draken scowled, taking his seat besides Mitsuya.

"Ahhh this smells so good."

"Huh, You and Mitsuya sure are housewife material." Baji cackled as he shoved a piece of chicken in his mouth. Takemichi's eye twitched at the comment while Mitsuya remained unfazed.

"Hey if they're gonna be housewives I call dibs on Takemitchy." Mikey declared. Takemichi choked on his rice at the declaration while the others just collectively rolled their eyes.

"You— you can't just say stuff like that!"

After they ate, the group dragged some spare futons from the closet down the hallway and set it in the middle of the livingroom, pushing the couch back to fit it in. They then proceeded to raid Takemichi's room, his parents and even the guests room of its pillows. And dumping it all in the middle to create a small mountain of fluffy pillows which Mikey promptly jumped in to.

The rest of the night was spent on watching movies from horror films to comedy to some action films with a little disturbance along the way with popcorns being thrown and pillows hitting some faces that erupted into a pillow fight. But for the most part, the gang had fun till they all passed out in the living room at around 1 in the morning, Mitsuya being the last to fall asleep had the been the one to turn off the television.

🔹🔹🔹

Takemichi batted at the finger prodding at his cheek. After some time where the prodding hasn't ceased he groggily opened his eyes and was met with deep bottomless dark ones staring at him. He almost shrieked in surprise if it weren't for Mikey covering his mouth.

"Shhh" Mikey shushed and mouthed 'come' before he stood and made his way to the front door. Takemichi carefully extracted himself from Chifuyu's hold, the other teen had rolled to his side and clung to his arms. He placed a pillow in place of himself and chuckled when he heard his partner mumble 'baji' under his breath.

"Why are we sneaking out like this?" he whispered as he put on his shoes.

"No reason~" Mikey smiled as he pulled his boyfriend out the door who was struggling to put on the other pair of his shoes.

"Mi— Mikey-kun!"

"Shhh you might wake up the others. Now get your bike." Takemichi rolled his eyes but nonetheless locked the front door and pulled out his bicycle which Draken had thankfully fixed after breaking it again for who knew how many times already.

They rode is silence enjoying the cold breeze that wafted their face. The street was dead with the occasional business men staggering home, drunk or exhausted or both who knew. After a while Mikey pulled on his shirt and pointed to a konbini.

"Doroyaki, I want some Doroyaki."

"You woke me up for this?" Takemichi said exasperated but still followed his boyfriend inside.

Four packets of Doroyaki later the pair rode off again with no destination in mind just enjoying each other's company. A few minutes later just when he thought worriedly that Mikey has fallen asleep because of the quiet, he felt strong arms wrap around his waist. He almost swerved his bicycle but quickly righted himself.

"Mikey-kun?"

"Hmm can we be like this forever." Mikey sleepily mumbled against his back.

"I don't know about forever but we can stay like this for as long as you want or when my legs gives up peddling."

[ibijau]

and another thing for the lingzhui winter exchange :D this one for HamsterQinghua

Sizhui smiled, looking absolutely devastated.

“I really would love to hang out with you, but I already have plans with someone after school. Another time?”

Jin Ling scowled.

First of all, because he hadn’t cornered Sizhui on the way to his next class to invite him to hang out. It was a date. He was trying to ask Sizhui out. Sure it’d be at the fast food place they always ended up after school, because Sizhui had an early curfew on week nights and too many activities to attend in the weekend, but they would have gone there with intent, and so that would absolutely have counted as a date.

Second of all, Sizhui had exactly two other friends: his annoying cousin Jingyi, and Zizhen from the art club they all went to. And Jin Ling, prudently, had made sure that neither of them had plans with Sizhui that afternoon. Which meant that Sizhui had plans with someone that Jin Ling didn’t know about.

Before he could ask about that, Sizhui’s phone started buzzing, its screen lighting up to warn of an incoming call. Because Sizhui had it in hand at that moment, Jin Ling was able to catch a glimpse of the screen, which was enough to turn his blood to ice, especially with the way Sizhui’s eyes lit up and a small smile crept up on his face.

“Ah, I’ve really got to take that!” Sizhui apologised. “And you have English next, right? So I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He dashed off without so much as a last glance at Jin Ling, all his attention on his phone. 

-

Jin Ling sat with Zizhen at the back of the English classroom, and they both proceeded to ignore anything the teacher intended to share with them, too busy whispering about the crisis that Jin Ling had just discovered. And it had to be a crisis to distract Zizhen, who usually at least tried to pretend he was paying attention. But the situation was too dire for that.

“Are you sure it can’t have just been his father?” Zizhen asked in a hushed tone.

“Sizhui would never call him ‘daddy’,” Jin Ling assured him, careful to keep his voice low as well. “He’d never be so informal, he’s not Jingyi. So it has to be someone else. And he looked so… happy.”

Zizhen rested his chin on the palm of his hand. He glanced at the teacher, just to make sure their lack of attention hadn’t been noticed yet, then glanced sideways at Jin Ling.

“Do you think he has a sugar daddy or something?”

“But he doesn’t need the money,” Jin Ling grumbled. “His family owns half the town.”

“Yeah but Jingyi says his dad checks how he uses his allowance,” Zizhen pointed out, “so maybe Sizhui wants to have money he doesn’t need to explain how he spends? Also, it might be his way of rebelling. I mean, he’s overdue for some real teenage rebellion. Nobody can be that good all the time. Or maybe the guy is just, like, insanely hot and Sizhui is super into him.”

Jin Ling checked that the teacher wasn’t looking, and kicked Zizhen’s chair.

“So what?” he hissed. “I’m hot too.”

“Cute at best,” Zizhen retorted, unphased. “On a good day. Nothing that could compare to the appeal of an older guy with money, ready to spoil him and buy him everything he likes.”

“I always buy him milkshakes,” Jin Ling pouted. “When he lets me, anyway.”

In truth, Jin Ling would have loved to spoil Sizhui more, but Sizhui refused most of the time and even insisted on paying for Jin Ling’s snacks frequently, like Jin Ling was some sort of little sibling who needed to be looked after. It didn’t help that Sizhui had weird hang-ups about debts and owing things to anyone. Jingyi said it was because he had gone through some difficult things before being adopted by the Lans, but on bad days Jin Ling felt it was just because Sizhui wanted to put distance between them.

Today was definitely a bad day, because Sizhui had a cool older boyfriend, maybe.

“So, what are you going to do about it?” Zizhen asked.

“Nothing.”

Zizhen’s eyebrows rose high on his face. “Your crush has a sugar daddy and you’re not going to do anything about it?”

“It’s his life,” Jin Ling hissed. “I’ll get over it easily.”

There were people he might have hoped to convince with that. Zizhen definitely wasn’t one of them. He had been Jin Ling’s confidant through the whole ordeal, from the slow realisation that he had a crush on Sizhui, to trying to get the attention of the older boy. Zizhen had brainstormed with him through dozens of ideas for a first date to ask Sizhui on. He knew how much Jin Ling liked their friend. More than liked, perhaps, though it wasn’t something Jin Ling felt ready to face, especially not after this new development.

“Okay,” Zizhen whispered. “That’s very mature of you and all. Then I guess I’ll be the only one following Sizhui after school to catch a glimpse of his mysterious super hot sugar daddy. I understand how that doesn’t interest you at all.”

Jin Ling kicked his friend’s chair again, this time attracting the attention of the teacher who glared at them. They both put on their most innocent smiles, and their usually good grades meant the teacher let it go for that time, only warning them to be quiet and let others work.

“So, are you coming with me or not?” Zizhen whispered when there was less attention on them.

“Only to make sure you don’t get in trouble,” Jin Ling retorted. “I don’t care at all about who Sizhui may or may not be dating. And I swear if we’re spotted, I’m blaming you.”

-

Sizhui’s date was an older man who was at least in his mid-thirties. He didn’t look particularly rich though, not with his patched up leather jacket, ripped jeans, and long messy ponytail. He looked rather like the sort of person who some of Jin Ling’s relatives made fun of sometimes for refusing to grow and act their age, and who obviously didn’t have a real, serious job like they did.

He was very handsome though. Movie actor handsome. And he smiled so wide when he walked to Sizhui that it illuminated his face, like Sizhui was the best thing to have ever happened to him. And he wrapped an arm around Sizhui’s shoulder as they walked together to the café across the street from their high school.

It was awful. Sizhui really had found himself a 'mysterious super hot sugar daddy' as Zizhen put it, and it was obvious that they both cared a lot about each other, and there was just no way Jin Ling could compete with that.

“I’m going home,” he grunted as they watched the couple sit on the terrace.

“No you’re not,” Zizhen retorted, grabbing him by the elbow and pulling him ahead.

With how much Jin Ling struggled and complained, it was a real miracle that Sizhui and his mysterious date didn’t notice them coming to sit at the nearest table, nothing but some potted plants hiding them. But apparently the couple was just that into each other, and Sizhui had his back on them anyway and he was too polite to turn around and look at the commotion, while his stupid hot date didn’t know the two weird teenagers peering at him through the leaves of some small palm trees.

He was even more handsome from up close, the bastard. However, the older man’s face had something very punchable to it. It might have been just Jin Ling’s jealousy speaking. At the same time, the waiter very pointedly rolled his eyes at something Hot-and-Mysterious said, so obviously he was, in fact, a universally annoying person.

Still, he had such a soft expression when looking at Sizhui, Jin Ling didn’t know how anyone could allow themselves to show their emotions so openly, especially at that age. He wanted Hot-and-Mysterious to stop already, especially because of what Sizhui was saying to deserve such an expression.

“It’s just so much, you know?” Sizhui explained, almost shyly. Jin Ling could just picture that smile his friend had sometimes, with just a hint of insecurity, like he feared to bother people just by being around. “I’m… it’s too much. I’m sure I’m not supposed to feel this much. My great-uncle would say I’m too young for this.”

“But you’re feeling it,” Hot-and-Mysterious retorted, clearly a little amused. “You can’t be too young if you’re already feeling it.”

Sizhui nodded. “It’s a little scary though, isn’t it? Every time, it feels like my heart is going to explode, and… and I keep wondering if I’m going to ruin this by saying too much, or doing too much, or…”

Hot-and-Mysterious leaned toward Sizhui, and took his hand, gently brushing his thumb against Sizhui’s knuckles.

“Love is scary,” he said. “But it’s good as well, right? Don’t listen to people who tell you to be reasonable or to wait until you’re older. School’s important, studies are important, but… you’re young. You’ve got to live a little, right?”

“You think this could be love?” Sizhui gasped.

“Sounds like it to me,” Hot-and-Mysterious replied with a fond chuckle. “Hey, it’s fine. I don’t mind. If anything, I’m happy. I’m glad the two of us can talk openly about something like that. I’m glad my baby can tell me this.”

That, it turned out, was exactly as much as Jin Ling could put up with. He stood from his chair so fast it fell behind him, and strode away from the café and from Sizhui being in love with someone else. It had been a stupid idea to follow Sizhui and his boyfriend, anyway, so Zizhen could pay their tab for having suggested that in the first place. Jin Ling had been raised better than that, and if his parents heard about it, they’d have his head for acting like such a creep.

He hoped Sizhui would find joy with his stupidly hot boyfriend.

Personally, Jin Ling knew he would never be happy ever again.

-

The following day, Jin Ling didn’t see Sizhui until lunch break at school. It was unusual, because they always chatted a bit before their first class, and would at least smile at each other when they met between lessons. That morning though, Jin Ling changed path to make sure it wouldn’t happen. It got him scolded by the teachers when he arrived late, but it was better than having to see Sizhui and be reminded that the older boy was in love with someone else.

It worked until lunch, when Sizhui managed to spot him trying to buy a sandwich he’d eat in a hidden corner.

“Hello, A-Ling!” Sizhui greeted him as he joined him in the queue. He was smiling brightly, a touch of colour to his cheeks. It was unfair, really, that someone so pretty existed in Jin Ling’s life. How was he supposed to not have fallen for Sizhui? “I didn’t see you this morning, I was starting to wonder if you were sick maybe.”

“I’d have texted you,” Jin Ling grumbled.

“Not if you were very sick,” Sizhui replied. “So I’m glad I found you. Especially since I have something I want to talk about, if you have time?”

“Sure. Let me just grab lunch.”

Sizhui nodded, clearly in an excellent mood. They both got a sandwich, and walked toward a deserted corner, under the stairs to the science classrooms. It was a quiet place to hang out at, especially at that hour of the day. They only ever went there when it was just the two of them, because the space would have been too small if Zizhen and Jingyi had joined them. In fact even for two people it was a little cramped. Normally Jin Ling secretly enjoyed that forced closeness. That day he couldn’t bear it and sat a little further away, even if it meant he’d be visible should anyone pass by.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” Jin Ling grumbled, glaring at his sandwich.

He wasn’t sure why he’d bothered buying it. He really wasn’t hungry.

Next to him, Sizhui nervously nodded, also looking down at his lunch.

“Right. That. Right, right. Here is the thing,” Sizhui explained. “I’ve been wondering… would you like to go to the cinema with me on friday? Just… just the two of us, I’m not inviting Zizhen and Jinyi. And it’d be my treat of course. And if you want, we can grab something to eat after? I’ve already asked my father, he’s okay with letting me stay out a little later.”

“You’re making it sound like a date,” Jin Ling huffed.

“Well, yeah, that’s because it would be one. I’m… I’m asking you out, A-Ling.”

Jin Ling looked up at his friend with round eyes. It was everything he’d ever wanted to hear, and Sizhui didn’t look like he was joking. If anything, Sizhui seemed so embarrassed that he couldn’t even meet Jin Ling’s face, his entire face red, his knees drawn against his chest.

It should have been the best thing ever, except…

“What about your boyfriend?” Jin Ling blurted.

“My what?” Sizhui gasped.

“I know about him!” Jin Ling announced. “I saw you with him yesterday, and Zizhen too saw you! You were at the café, all cozy and happy with that guy! And he was holding your hand!”

“A-Ling, that’s not… it’s not like that, I swear!”

“Of course it’s like that!” Jin Ling exploded. “And I like you a lot you know! I like you and I want to go out with you! But I know you have a boyfriend and I’m not desperate or stupid enough to go out with you when you already have someone! I’d have thought you liked me a little better than that, and I’m so disappointed that you’d try something like that, and…”

“A-Ling, that was my dad!” Sizhui exclaimed, hurriedly putting away his sandwich.

Jin Ling blinked a few times, shocked into silence by that very stupid lie.

“Well, not my real father obviously,” Sizhui hurriedly corrected. “You’ve met my father. But that’s my… my other dad, I guess.”

“You said your birth parents were dead!”

“They are,” Sizhui confirmed, drawing his legs to his chest once more and resting his forehead against his knees. “It’s… it’s a little complicated. I don’t even remember all of it, honestly, but my dad told me some of it, and my father confirmed it. So… when I was very young, my parents died, and I went to live with some relatives of mine. There was my great-aunt, an uncle, and some cousins, as well as a friend of my cousins.”

Sizhui turned his head so he could look at Jin Ling, and smiled. 

“It wasn’t a bad time. I was pretty happy there, and that friend of my cousins kind of informally adopted me. Or I adopted him?” Sizhui chuckled. “Well, I started calling him daddy, anyway, and nobody corrected me. It was… it was really great. I stayed there for a year or two. Until there was that fire.”

Sizhui hid his face again, while Jin Ling nodded along. The rest was new, but Sizhui had already told him about losing his family in a fire. He had just assumed that meant his parents.

“Dad managed to get me out,” Sizhui whispered. “But he couldn’t save anyone else, so after that it was just the two of us… but not for very long. It really hit him hard to lose everyone like that, and he didn’t really have a steady job at that time, or any family to turn to, you know? So for a while we lived in the streets or in squats here and there, until I got sick and he realised he couldn’t keep me anymore. He managed to get social workers to take me away, and he just disappeared from my life. And then a few weeks ago, he contacted me again. He’d finally managed to land on his feet again after struggling for years, and he’d found out I was adopted, and… and it turned out my father and him knew each other in school, so my father agreed to let him talk to me. We’ve met a few times, and we text a lot and call sometimes. It’s nice.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jin Ling mumbled.

Sizhui raised his head, blinking away some moisture at the corner of his eyes before smiling at Jin Ling.

“It’s okay. It’s not so bad, I’m glad to have him back. And one of my cousins actually survived the fire, so I’ve been in contact with him as well. It’s… it’s kind of cool to have family again. I mean I have my father and his family, but this… this is different, right?”

“I meant sorry for forcing you to share that,” Jin Ling corrected. “It’s… you didn’t need to tell me that. I messed up. Fuck, I messed up again!”

Sizhui laughed, softly, a fragile little sound that made Jin Ling’s heart beat faster.

“It’s okay,” he repeated. “If it’s you, I don’t mind sharing that sort of things. I’ve wanted to tell you about it actually, but I was waiting to make sure that things were going fine first. Plus I was kind of hoping that maybe when I introduced you to my dad, it’d be as my boyfriend. It’s… I’ve been telling him about you.”

“You have?” Jin Ling gasped. “Oh no. What did you say?”

Sizhui laughed again, a little lighter and more cheerful this time.

“I’ve told him that you’re clever and determined,” Sizhui announced with a warm smile. “That you always try hard to do the right thing, and even though you have an awful temper sometimes, you’re never afraid to admit when you’re wrong. I’ve told him also that you’re… you’re very handsome, that I like you a lot, and that I’ve been wanting to ask you out for a long while. And I have, now. So, uh. Friday night?”

“No way!” Jin Ling exclaimed.

When he saw Sizhui’s pretty smile fall, Jin Ling almost slapped himself.

“No way you’re asking me on a date,” he clarified, “because I’m the one asking you out. I’m the one taking you to the cinema, and taking you out to eat after! It’s the least I can do after...” Jin Ling made a vague hand gesture. “So, yeah. I’m asking you out, and I’m taking you on a date!”

Sizhui stared at him with wide eyes. He blinked a few times, his mouth dropping open, and burst out laughing.

“Sure, let’s do it like that,” Sizhui agreed, smiling beautifully once more.

Jin Ling smiled back.

It was going to be the best date in the history of dating, he’d make sure of it.

[voidcat]

– a case of bad luck

3. making a scene

m.list ; prev ; next ; wc: 2.7k

a/n: rmr when i said i'd not post a chapter befre writing at least one chapter ahead? ahahaha anyways,,, here's wonderwall. song name mentioned at the end of the chapter!!

He doesn’t show his face for the next few days.

The feeling of being watched goes away with him, despite knowing it’ll be over shortly.

Finding things to occupy your mind starts off easier than you thought, no one bats an eye to it either. Slowly rumors start to spread about the boy who hasn’t shown his face in weeks.

Exes complain and bad mouth, friends stick around and make excuses, some believe he ran off to chase a dream or start a new life; a theory from each head, all speculating, not even close to the truth of it.

Then comes the news reports, a close friend must’ve heard from the cops, body found dead, covered in bruises. ‘They say he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, crossed an alley too narrow at a time too late.’ Nobody speaks of the bodies found with him, someone must’ve messed with the crime scene.

“So, how are things going with him?” a voice from your right snaps your attention.

What?.. You stare at your friend, then realize she must mean Dazai.

“Not much. He’s still in town, we hang out sometimes.” The lie slips off smoothly yet they seem disappointed at your answer. Then remembering what he claims to have said to them, it makes sense in a way, although a dumb way it is.

“Do you think he was murdered?” “What could he have done to die a brutal way?” they join the flock of gossipers. Nothing new or exciting to do recently, taking a guess has become the new sport, as if a correct guess could earn them something of a meaning.

You close your ears to the same whispers of different voices and try focusing on what’s at hand. Maybe you should remember what it is for first.

The dreaded feeling comes back after few more days and with it, so does he.

Waiting in the same spot just like the last time, another suspicious smile decorating his face, accompanied by fresh bandages. Rolling your eyes at the sight of him, you look for a means to escape, even just for one more day but your friends spot him short after, wave their hands at him and push you to his direction.

Lovely.

A cloying voice to match that smile, he greets you first. “Hello darling-“ “Don’t call me that.” You cut in. He pays no mind.

Like last time, the two of you begin to walk, ignoring the curious looks of your friends focused on your back. “Have you thought about my offer recently?”

“Honestly? I forgot.” You expect a raised eyebrow or a glance thrown your way at the very least. “I have a life of my own, you know.” He shows no sign of emotions or annoyance.

“And so do they.” He shrugs and looks at the each store window you walk by. It’s the air within him, that rubs you the wrong way, you decide. The way he talks as if he is discussing over what to eat for breakfast when it’s lives, living breathing lives you’ve spent your whole life with that he threatens.

Exactly how many times has he done that to not care at all?

Another answer- no, a possibility, an explanation to this lies in your mind and you brush it off –or try to do so. It’s cruel, maybe not exactly but such an idea shouldn’t come to your mind so easily, no matter how… logical it sounds to be.

“What do you want me to do? What do you expect me to say? Just blindly agree?” your steps begin to get louder, more pressure applied to each one you take.

Then his voice rises, a stretched out ‘ah’comes first, “Bella, you’re making a scene,” he makes a move to drape an arm over your shoulder as you take a step forward to escape it. “-especially when you don’t even have the slightest clue what I’m asking for.” And comes back the empty tone of voice with his last words.

Few steps ahead there’s a turn you can take. You wonder if he will stop when you part ways, will he wait, walk after you to grab your arm and make you follow him again? Another voice tells you instead he will keep walking ahead, not even sparing a glance your way, already aware you’ll fall defeated to fear or curiosity only to trail after him again.

But still, the possibilities are still worth the risk, no matter how true he is to his threats, it’s better than to walk into an alley with him again.

People around walk on and continue their lives, out to enjoy the sun or to hang out after their not-so-busy lives. You don’t cross the street at the lights like you did the last time.

From the corner of your eye you peak at him but the bandages cover a good portion of his face, not that he is loose with his expressions and mimics. You focus on the walk again.

“Whatever it is, it must be something dirty, or risky, considering you’re threatening me into this.”

“Now now, don’t flatter yourself just because you have an ability. It isn’t anything big, just a small chore I don’t want to deal with.”

“From the way you talk, the list can go from taking the trash out to murder y’know…” To this, he just lets out a dry laugh. You’re unsure if it’s a good thing or not that he doesn’t even deny it.

The scenery around begins to change slowly, store by store, people by people. Maybe this is a good time to take a turn right or back, before ending up in a part of town who knows where. Nearby you spot a pot of flowers and stop as you reach it. A checkpoint, of sorts. It used be enjoyable at least, to have little checkpoints of your own on paths you took daily, on streets you weren’t familiar with. Stores, a pavement stone sticking out, a cat that sleeps in the same place all day, all to yourself, –as if a checkpoint could actually serve you as if life is a video game.

As you stop, he does too. “That’s fair.” He shrugs, “but it’s nothing big. I just want you to capture this guy by the end of tonight.”

Narrowing your eyes, you observe his face, “why, is the mighty Dazai incapable of such a simple task or does he carry an infectious disease of sorts?”

“Neither,” crossing his arms behind, he rests his head. “I just don’t feel like doing it.” Unbelievable.

It’s your turn to cross your arms this time, take a step back and balance your weight, just to say alert. “So let’s say that I agreed to this, will you get off my neck? Even if it fails?”

“Ah, bella, failure isn’t an option in your case.” You wince at nickname, again, and positive why he avoided the first question. Like it or not, getting involved in even the tiniest task would link you to the mafia somehow, an accomplice, even if he says he will leave you, there’s no guarantee someone else won’t show up. And this time with a better excuse to use, that’ll get worse for you if the said person is tortured or murdered.

“Okay, I… have a song in mind but-“ you look around and down and around and at his face again, he seems to be waiting for you to finish whatever it is you’ll say. Straightening up, you speak the next words with more confidence, no matter what, showing any signs of weakness or submission is not an option. “-even if this whole ability thing is real, I doubt it will work unless it’s night time.”

He waits there for a moment, looking more like he dozed off then considering what you’ve just said. “Alright!” he claps his hands in front of him suddenly, “I’ll be waiting by the door around 8. Don’t make me wait.” “wait!-“

Coat wavering in the air, he turns and continues walking the direction you two were following.

Your ‘How the hell am I supposed to find an excuse to get out at 8?’ waits on the tip of your tongue, his shrinking form looking more and more punchable with each passing second. Waiting a little longer to make sure he’s gone, though it isn’t important since he made it clear he knows where you reside, you begin to walk back home.

Now each word spoken, his gestures, moves and his voice start to come back at you one by one. Want it or not, you did agree to become an associate to them, even if it’s a weak link. A disposable one, easy to trace, not important enough to protect. Taking one arm off, you hold your bag in front and search for your earphones.

If you’re really going to do this, that ability thing better be working. Typing in the song title and you click play, putting it on repeat, that might help get you in the mood at least.

A dinner like any other evening, occasional chitchat mixed with the clanking of cutlery. Your cat peaks from the door frame and goes back into the living room, leaving the three of you alone. Few nods here and there, hums instead of ‘yes’ and ‘no’s.

You consider if you should try to sneak out or make up a lie to go out, though there’s no guarantee on the latter that they’ll allow. That is, until you see alcohol in the mix and stay silent, then offer once to refill their glasses and refuse “No thank you, it’s a school night after all.”

Pleased with your reply, their attention is back on talk about their day, few complaints here and there, and soon after they grow tired. Dimming the lights and burning an incense stick in a far corner of a room helps to set the mood.

“You seem tired father, why don’t you go to bed earlier tonight?” he doesn’t even loom up from his cigarette but the heavy eye lids suggest he is keen on the idea.

“Mother, didn’t you say you have an early meeting tomorrow? It’s better to sleep now and review the papers in the morning than to stay up all night.” If she suspects your sudden interest in her schedule, she doesn’t make a comment. And always being the first one to go to bed, she puts the documents into a neat pile and gets up first.

You wait for the sounds to come to an end and glance at the nearest clock. 8.05, not bad. Who is he to complain when he didn’t even bother to ask if it works for you anyway?

Tiptoing to the door and grabbing the keys, you ignore your cat’s curious gaze and grab your shoes.

Like he said, he waits 20 meters from your house.

“Ready?” he offers his arm, which you ignore.

Putting on your earphones and pressing play, you let out a breath. “Just lead the way.”

With music in your ears, the journey there goes faster.

At first you lend an ear to Dazai, seeing his mouth move, but once it’s clear he’s just babbling about some random thing, you let your focus loose and allow the tune to surround you.

Losing count on how many times the song replayed, you eye Dazai, waiting for a word on at least what you’ll do.

And as if on cue, he stops whatever nonsense he was sputtering and that tone comes out of his mouth again. You make a mental note to control your body language better in the future.

“It’s just one man, slightly taller than me, built in but not very bright. He should be easy to spot in the next turn to the left, I doubt he got company.”

Turning the volume down, you slow your steps to match his pace. “So he is just… there? Why would he even walk into a trap?”

“Oh he isn’t! But he will arrive in-“ he pulls out his phone to check the time, “-in half an hour.” as his voice starts to get more excited, not genuine like a kid’s, but fake, you get a bad feeling in his intentions –worse than before.

“What if it doesn’t work and I cannot use my ability?” you ask and immediately regret upon seeing a smile on him, as if he was waiting, –who are you kidding, of course he was waiting! “Well that sounds like a you problem, doesn’t it?” he says with a shrug.

“Good luck! I’ll be back in an hour!” he turns around and walk into a shadowed corner before you can run after him.

Eyes fixed on where he was standing a while ago, with that smile on his lips, you mutter to yourself, “What the hell…”, and turn the volume back up.

In the remaining minutes to his arrival, you’ve taken off your earphones, humming to yourself and waiting by the corner.

By the time he arrives, you watch him look around for a minute then walk into the alley with ease.

“Hello, sir! If you’re not busy at the moment, can I borrow 5 minutes of your time?” Adding a sweetness to your voice isn’t hard but he seems vary of you.

Who wouldn’t be? In the dead of the night, a high schooler appearing in an alley when they’re supposed to have a meeting.

“Oh please, it’s nothing big. You see, I’ll be auditioning for a band and I’m waiting for my friend before we go in.” You wave your hand like it’s nothing. “And though I know I’m somewhat decent, I need actual criticism from someone who won’t sugarcoat it for me. Would you like to hear me sing?”

He doesn’t look impressed, nor does he look like he wants to deal with a brat. But twisting his lips once and looking around for a sign of arrival, it’s clear he prefers to hear you once and get rid of you for good.

“Okay and before we begin, if you understand the lyrics, please don’t get any ideas. The actual theme and story of the song lies in the verse.” You flash a smile when he raises an eyebrow, maybe it was a stupid thing to say, it’s not like everyone can understand a song in a foreign language on first listen, even if they know the language.

Pulling out your phone, you press play, keeping rhythm to the beat with your foot and drum your fingers to your leg.

“I am not, I am not, I am not, I'm alive, live-” you begin singing and close your eyes for a brief moment.

Perhaps you should’ve picked a… more convenient song, instead of spending your day til dinner listening to this.

But would another one be as interesting as this to witness? It’s a hard no, of course not.

Yet this doesn’t help silence the creaking sounds from earlier leave your head. And now those mixed with the song itself, sends a shiver. Would that happen to me if I sang it in a moment of weakness?

You wait with your back to the cold wall, check the time again and like clockwork, faint footsteps reach your ears.

It’s Dazai’s face to show itself first, peaking from the street opening like your cat did today during dinner. He spots you, and him, and his expression changes suddenly.

Unsure what he thinks of this, you decide don’t want to learn it, or any other expression of his now that you’re at it. Decoding him means knowing him, to an extent, and this also means spending time with him, getting closer to him. None of which you’re eager to participate in.

As he opens his mouth to say something, you push yourself off the wall and take a step to your right to avoid colliding.

“There. I’m going home.”

Steps long and fast, you leave immediately, putting as much distance as possible. Hands into fists, moving in sync with your legs and your gaze focused ahead. It seems trip back home will go faster than it was to get here. You ignore for the night how easily you could turn your back to him and just walk.

song: Crows - Rest in Bigger Pieces Remix by Car Seat Headrest

yep, thats the full name. if u listen to it, it'll make it easier, but if u dont, here's a brief summary:

the song is written for one of will's friends, cate wurtz (for one of her webcomics) the main theme of the song and the webcomic is in the verse but lyrics beside it are references to having sex at a park at night, hence the reader telling "dont get any ideas"

[dramaticsnakes]

The Revived - Chapter 9: Reconnecting

This is chapter 9 of the Dream SMP multichapter fic @rainbowbutterfrosting​ and I wrote together! I hope you’ll enjoy!

AO3

Read in order (on Tumblr)

Characters in this chapter: Wilbur, Nihachu, Ghostbur

Word count: 2784

Cw: sleep problems, needle imagery, implied desire to get hurt, mentions of guilt, brief mentions of food/eating, discussions of violence, implied trust issues

Fic summary: Wilbur was alive, and it was such a magnificent feeling, that made his mind spark with anticipation. It didn’t take long, however, for Wilbur to realize that this new breath of life, was not just his own. An echo-y voice hides in the back of his mind, and before he knows it, the transparent version of him he saw at the endless train station, is a lot more ingrained than he’d expected him to be.

And Wilbur really shouldn’t care. Because he’d be damned, if he spent the life he’d awaited for so long, babysitting a lost cause of a ghost, stuck in the very same limbo Wilbur spent so long in. It was an even exchange, and one Wilbur wasn’t going to mess with. Why exactly he ends up setting out to get the ghost out of his mind, in order to save the both of them, however, is beyond him. And perhaps Wilbur’s past isn’t as easy to leave behind, as he’d hoped it would be.

The minutes that followed were awkward to say the least. Niki had held onto Wilbur for a while, as if he would slip out of her grasp and dissolve into nothingness at any moment. She’d let Wilbur go free shortly after, and then she started staying at a distance, her eyes never quite leaving him. In a matter of minutes, she’d gone from yelling at him and punching him, to treating him like a fragile porcelain vase that would break the second she got too close. In a way, Wilbur wasn’t sure which he preferred.

“I’m sorry.” she’d repeated several times, quietly and broken, almost as if to mimic Ghostbur’s words that had echoed in Wilbur’s mind earlier, “Wilbur, I’m so so sorry.”

Wilbur had said it was okay, because really, Wilbur had expected punches far earlier, and perhaps it was about time.

He had the chance to look at his surroundings properly, now that he was no longer blindfolded. What had previously been stairs leading to an unknown place, and a lonely room he couldn’t see, now resembled something much grander. An underground area with high ceilings, and god knows how many different rooms. It was like an entire city, right underneath the ground, and Niki was walking through it so casually, looking at Wilbur instead of the impressive sights. “What is this place?” Wilbur asked quietly.

It took Niki a few moments to realize she’d even been asked a question. “Oh! It’s my secret city.”

Wilbur hummed. “Not so secret anymore. You led me right to it.” he said, trying to lighten the quiet mood. Niki just laughed awkwardly. “Did you build this?”

“Yeah. I did.” Niki said with a nod, “I originally made it to house refugees from the war, but… Well, now I just kind of live here on my own.”

“Really?” Wilbur said, looking at what looked like the beginning to a farm, “That’s… That’s a lot of space.” he tried to dig through his memories, “Didn’t you have a bakery?”

At that, Niki’s face turned pale again. She shook her head. “L’Manberg’s gone.”

“Oh.” Wilbur said, “Oh, right. Sorry, that was stupid.” he facepalmed, accidentally touching a bruise, and he heard Ghostbur wince. 

He must’ve winced too, because Niki gave him a concerned look. “You… I’m so sorry, but we should find a way to treat the bruises. I didn’t mean to- or well, I did mean to, but not to you, I…” she trailed off, and closed her eyes, as if her own words made her cringe.

“It’s okay.” Wilbur said, walking ahead.

“It’s not okay. I should’ve…” She shook her head, and took a deep breath. After a few moments of nothing but silence and the sound of their steps, she stopped walking. Wilbur looked back, confusedly. “Wilbur… How exactly are you back?”

Ah. Wilbur should’ve expected the question eventually. “Dream.” he said, “Dream revived me.”

A range of subtle emotions seemed to flow down Niki’s face in ripples. She swallowed something in her throat. “Oh.” she said, “That’s what they said happened with Tommy, I thought… I didn’t even think he was…” she looked at the ground for a moment, her eyes closed tightly. “But why would Dream- Are you… You were dead right?”

Wilbur scoffed. “What do you mean? Yeah I seemed pretty fucking dead to me.”

Niki started whispering to herself. “Wilbur died. He was killed by Phil. Dream revived him.” She repeated the words again, and looked up again, with a smile that looked performative at best. “Okay, I suppose that makes sense.”

“Yeah…” Wilbur attempted to shift the conversation, “Why did you stop threatening me? Like are you just gonna punch me again? I’ll understand if I look punchable, I’ve gotten that quite a lot.” Wilbur chuckled. He desperately hoped Niki wasn’t going to hurt him again, yet part of him still said it was going to happen. Part of him said Niki wasn’t going to let him leave alive.

Yet, Niki managed to prove him wrong when she spoke, “No, no I’m not-” She took a shaky breath. “I’m not going to do it- any of that again. I… I realized that you were actually you when… When you called me ‘Nix.’ You were the only person that called me that.” The words were fragile in a way that made it look like Niki’s eyes were watering. He might have been the one to wipe away Niki’s tears moments ago, but he couldn’t attempt to rub away the unshed ones.

“Niki are you oka-”

“You look tired.” Niki interrupted, the words sounding sharp, “Have you had some rest recently?”

Wilbur looked at Niki disbelievingly, “I mean, I was just passed out and tied up for some hours wasn’t I?”

Niki looked apologetic for a moment again, and Wilbur almost wished he hadn’t said that. “That’s not rest.” she proceeded to say, “You should… You can borrow a bed, and lie here for a while. It’s the least I can do.”

Wilbur caught a good look at Niki’s face again. He looked at the bags underneath her eyes, and the way she looked as if years had passed. For a moment, he pondered if perhaps Ranboo and Tubbo had lied to him, about how long Wilbur had been gone. He found himself doubting this was the same Niki, Wilbur last saw thirteen and a half years ago. “How long has it been since you last slept.” Wilbur asked, and it wasn’t meant to be spiteful. In fact, he was uncharacteristically concerned.

Niki’s expression hardly changed, as she simply blinked once. “Last night.” she said, and Wilbur had enough experience with her to know that it was a lie, but he wasn’t going to say anything. He didn’t feel as if he had the right.

Soon enough, Wilbur found himself sitting on a bed. She left the room with a promise that she’d return, and Wilbur suddenly felt exposed and off, as if he had been miscast in the role of someone who needed help, rather than whichever role he previously had. Not that he was confused about his previous role, because Wilbur had gone way too far by now, to qualify as a hero.

“Ghostbur?” Wilbur whispered.

“Yeah, I’m here! Are you alone?” Ghostbur asked.

“Yes. You went quiet for a while.” Wilbur said.

“Oh, did I? Sorry. I love talking, but you usually don’t like it when I talk while you talk to others.”

In a sense, Ghostbur wasn’t wrong. Wilbur had expressed little but distaste towards it, or he’d ignored it completely, because really he had to. It wasn’t as if this was something he could explain, when people were baffled at the revival alone. Furthermore, he wasn’t sure what would happen if he tried to explain. While people held tension and disdain whenever it came to Wilbur, people held everything from fondness to mild annoyance with Ghostbur. Wilbur wasn’t an idiot. Ghostbur was so inextricably good and happy, and those were two things Wilbur had little to nothing of. There was a little part of Wilbur, however small, that felt as if people would rush to get Ghostbur back from the place in limbo he had done nothing to deserve, even at the cost of Wilbur. 

Of course he shouldn’t want Ghostbur to talk all the time. Ghostbur was annoying. Wilbur knew that. For so long, he’d had to face that fact. And yet, Wilbur still found himself saddened at Ghostbur’s words, because a ridiculous part of Wilbur insisted that the silence was worse. That the light echo-y tone, was keeping Wilbur just above the surface of the ocean, that otherwise wouldn’t hesitate to suffocate him.

Wilbur’s time in limbo must’ve done quite a number on him, for him to think such things.

“You can talk if you have something to say.” Wilbur said quietly, “I won’t always be able to respond, but you can talk.”

“Oh.” Ghostbur said, sounding a little uncertain, “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that. You can do what you want, you know. Not like anyone can stop you in there.” Wilbur said, but he regretted the words as soon as he said them, because they were met with the sound of a harsh inhale. Wilbur took a deep breath, closed his eyes, trying to collect his words. “I’m sorry it’s… How are you feeling there? I left you alone for a… For a while.”

“I’m fine, I think.” Ghostbur said, his cheerful tone apparent, but the words ambivalent. “I-I don’t think I like this place very much though.”

Wilbur nodded to himself, feeling his heart drop slightly. “Yeah, I get that. It’s very quiet and enclosed.” he bit his lip, almost hard enough to taste the blood within.

“It’s okay!” Ghostbur said, “I’ll probably forget it soon anyway. You’re here now.”

“Ah. Yes, of course.” Wilbur said, and perhaps the idea that Ghostbur would possibly forget soon enough should’ve been a relief, yet there was something strangely dishonest about the way the memories worked. In a sense, Wilbur related to the way memories seemed out of reach. To the way, certain parts of one's life were muddled. He carried just a bit of sympathy for the ghost, and the way he, despite everything, held on, through the vague fog of remembrance. 

“And you have to sleep sometimes! The living do that when they get tired.” Ghostbur said affirmingly.

“That’s true.” Wilbur said, a small smile on his face as he chuckled. After a moment of silence he added, “Hang in there.” because perhaps he was still cruel enough, to let the ghost fall into the illusion that it was temporary. It wasn’t. It couldn’t be. 

But Wilbur had gone way too far, to qualify as a hero anyway.

Just then, Niki entered the room. She was smiling, though it seemed practiced. She was holding a plate with a pastry that was probably homemade. In her other hand, she held a glass of water. Wilbur realized that his throat was a little dry, as he laid his eyes upon it. “I had this. Are you hungry?”

Once again, Wilbur felt miscast as a victim. “Yes.” he said begrudgingly, and Niki approached, placing the plate on a table next to Wilbur. “Still baking without the bakery?” he asked.

Niki looked a little surprised at the question. “Oh, yeah! I uh- I am now.”

Wilbur nodded, feeling that the response was a bit strained and off, though he didn’t find it in himself to comment on it. “How long have you been staying here?” he asked.

“A while.” Niki said, “A couple of months, I think.”

Wilbur hesitated. “Alone?” he asked.

Niki turned visibly uncomfortable at the question. “Yeah.” she said, “Or well, I’ve had visitors sometimes.”

Wilbur wasn’t sure what he’d imagined the world to be like, after he died. Perhaps a part of him had expected a bustling community, with Niki standing tall as ever. With her smiling while trying out a new recipe. Maybe with Tommy front and center, with Tubbo by his side. Everything continuing on, as if death led to blooming rather than decay.

And perhaps another, much more selfish part of him, had expected the world to die along with him. For everything to fall to the ground along with L’Manberg, until there was nothing but a crater in the ground.

Neither of those seemed to be the case. Though sometimes, expectations had to be set aside, in order to keep a goal clear.

He took a bite of the pastry, familiar flavours filling his mouth. “Oh. This is delicious!” he said, “Prime I haven’t tasted cake at all in forever.”

Niki giggled, and for a moment everything felt normal. Wilbur wasn’t sure what normal meant at all, but it was as if no time had passed. The sound of the giggle seemed like a gateway through the past, and their voices seemed to blend comfortably, as they went on to make some more awkward conversation. 

Apparently Techno had gone as far as to make an anarchist group, though Niki didn’t go into much details of its members, or whether they’d even done anything noteworthy. She mentioned a couple of new faces, and briefly went into how Dream was in prison. Pandora’s box. Wilbur knew of it. He vaguely remembered the huge building, and he remembered vague dread that didn’t come from his own memories. Ghostbur’s breathing turned shakier at the mention, though they quickly moved on from the subject.

Wilbur noticed however, that whenever the subject of L’Manberg was brought up, Niki’s tone had a sharper edge to it. Her words became quicker and harsher, as if the topic itself stuck needles into her chest, that made her hiss, as if she was catching breath. “Did you miss me?” Wilbur asked at one point.

“Of course I did.” Niki said, her voice turning a little softer.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked.

“Of course I am.” Niki said, and she grasped her mouth once she realized she’d said it. She shook her head. “No! It’s not that bad, it’s just… You’re back now, it’s fine.” 

“I destroyed it all, didn’t I?” Wilbur asked, though it wasn’t a real question. He chuckled, “I destroyed your home. I destroyed everyone’s home.”

“Stop.” Niki said, “It’s over now. The memories are gone and-”

“And I did that!” Wilbur said, with a slight smile.

“Stop.” Ghostbur suddenly said.

“And I’m sorry.” Wilbur added, “I’m sorry I did that, but you should be mad at me anyhow.”

“I don’t… I don’t want to be mad at you Wilbur!” Niki said, a little desperation in her voice. She suddenly took his hand, and looked him in the eyes. “You left. You were gone, and now you’re back. I lost you Wilbur. We all did. And you betrayed everything you used to stand for.” She said harshly, “But I don’t want to be mad at you. Everyone here has done bad things, and you’re not the only one who has left in one way or another. Betrayals happen all the time, and now you’re here. I’m here, and I’m not a part of any of it up there, so it doesn’t matter anymore. None of it matters.”

Wilbur sat in silence for a moment, feeling the heat of Niki’s hand on his, that felt all at once comforting and overwhelming. It shouldn’t be there. At most, it should’ve been punching Wilbur again, because the more he thought about everything, the more he hoped someone would take this all out on him. At least it would make him feel alive rather than confused. He wondered exactly when Niki’s outlook became so somber, and he couldn’t help but feel that he perhaps had played a part. The words hadn’t even seemed planned out, and while Wilbur didn’t doubt that they were truthful, he couldn’t help but feel as if there was more truth to be uncovered. “Okay.” he just said, because what the hell was he supposed to say, with Niki looking at him, as if this was the last second he’d spend within her sight?

“It does matter.” Ghostbur said, “There’s a lot going on, but everyone deserves to be happy. That’s important.”

Wilbur wasn’t sure if the sentiment broke his heart or poorly repaired it with some blue duct tape. “I’m sorry, Niki. For what I did.”

“Thank you, Wilbur.” Niki just said, she smiled slightly, though Wilbur wasn’t sure if his apology had gotten through. “Get some rest, alright? You still look exhausted.”

“I can talk a lil’ bit longer,” Wilbur yawned after saying the words. He caused so much pain to Niki that he wanted to at least talk for a few minutes more. Perhaps make those minutes count more than the ones in his past lives. Cherish the moment in a way.

But Niki only looked sympathetically at him. The pity, saying more than she ever could, “Can and should are two different things, Wil.”

“Aww,” Wilbur rolled his eyes. “Fine, I’ll rephrase that. I should stay up a bit longer.”

Niki sighed in a way that could have been considered a melancholic laugh, “You really shouldn’t.” The words were quiet, genuine concern showing through them.

With the waves of exhaustion washing over Wilbur, he laid back in the bed. Although the pillow wasn’t very soft, he leaned into it gratefully, his eyes closing along the way.

“Good night, Wilbur.” Niki sat up from the bed, pulling the blanket slightly more over Wilbur. A small smile came across Wilbur’s face. He thought about returning the good night back to her, but he already fell into a dreamless sleep.

[prurientpuddlejumper]

A Lipless Face That I Want to Marry, Ch. 1

Chapter 2 ->

Summary: Surviving being bitten and burned alive by the Red Dragon was the easy part. Frederick Chilton has a long road ahead before things will ever be close to normal again. But your fiancé is a fighter, and you’ll be with him the whole way. 

Sequel to A Punchable Face That I Want to Kiss

CW: hospitals, surgery, major injury recovery. Sorry for the silly title, this will, in fact, be an angst-fest. 

2,368 words

He seemed fine that first day—as fine as anyone could be after surviving what he had. His skin was red and cracked from being set on fire, and both his lips had been violently torn off—but they had found him in time. He was in the hospital recovering. Talking. You were able to speak with him, and reassure him that you still wanted to marry him, however long his recovery would take. Lips or no lips. You loved him.

You thought that meant he was going to be fine. The Red Dragon didn’t kill him.

But it wasn’t that simple.

His kidney started failing. Dehydration. He needed a massive amount of IV fluids to replace what he had lost and save him, but that volume of fluid had consequences. It made his body swell up to the point that you couldn’t recognize him—to the point that his airway was swollen closed and he couldn’t breathe on his own. And his single, struggling kidney might fail anyway.

Just a day ago he was talking to you, laughing as you teased him, telling you that you didn’t have to stay with him, and crying when you said you would. You had yelled at him for being such an idiot.

When you walked in the next morning, he was gone.

Overnight, he was like a cadaver, lying unconscious with ventilator and feeding tubes stuffed down his throat. Why did you yell at him?

You were so helpless. There was nothing you could do to make any sort of difference, not even encourage him with tender words or a joke. He couldn’t hear you. He was gone. Every snarky, sassy, smug, self-important, dramatic, gossipy remark was gone—silenced—leaving you with a body and no idea when or if he would wake up. All you could do was watch as he swelled, and hope that the fluids did their job saving his life before they killed him. All you could do was be grateful for every breath, every stubborn heartbeat, and pray they didn’t stop.

A doctor told you his chances of waking up would be slim for a healthy person. With ninety percent of his skin destroyed, bacteria could easily enter his bloodstream, and he could rapidly die of sepsis. The complication of his previous organ damage—especially the kidney Abel Gideon removed—made his probability of recovering next to zero.

“You don’t know what he’s lived through,” you seethed. “He did not survive three different serial killers just to die now. So you are not going to treat him like a lost cause, or…” You tried to think of what he would say, “Or I will sue this hospital for malpractice! That is the renowned psychiatrist and bestselling author Dr. Frederick Chilton, and you will not give up on him.”

Blustering didn’t suit you. And haughty threats couldn’t bring his swelling down. The doctors were doing everything they could, but the internal pressure became too much for him to breathe, even with the assistance of a ventilator and oxygen tubes in his nose. They carted him away to the operating room to cut more holes in him.

All you could do was watch.

“It will cause additional scarring,” a very kind nurse with curly hair explained to you as you blinked vacantly in a waiting room, trying not to break down, “but it should allow his chest to expand and save his life.”

You nodded, arms wrapped around your chest. He wouldn’t even notice a few more in the highway map of scars that his body had become. So long as he survived. You were supposed to get married. You just wanted him to wake up.

  ***

Frederick Chilton awoke in a bare and lonely hospital room.

A nurse came in to check on him after a few minutes of blinking groggily and trying to get his bearings through the static fuzz clouding his mind. She explained what had happened, reviewed the medications he was on, showed him the button to press to call for help, and handed him a remote control. No visitors to announce. No one waiting in the lobby all night, haggard with worry, for him to regain consciousness. No flowers crowding the bedside table.

The small television attached to the far wall, which he could barely see or hear, was less than useless, and the morphine drip prevented him from being able to focus enough to read a book. So he lay in bed, alone, in silence save for the tedious beep of the heart monitor.

It was so dull, he was grateful for having been unconscious for the last thirty hours, which was how long it took for the surgeons to get all the organs back inside of him that Abel Gideon took out, determining which ones were viable to go back, and which would go septic and kill him. Like a jigsaw puzzle. Humpty Dumpty, and not all of the pieces could be put together again.

Days passed, and his only visitor was a police officer there on a formality to take his statement.

He would have thought being disemboweled would make a man more popular. Of course it didn’t. This spared him his pride, at the least—he couldn’t tolerate visitors seeing him pale and clammy-skinned, whimpering with pain in a miserable little hospital gown—and for that he was grateful of his churlish nature, which pushed everyone well past arm’s length.

And yet, he wished they would at least try. He wanted people clamoring at his recovery room door so that he could send them away.

He would never be subjected to the indignity of being seen so weak—and yet, what he wouldn’t give to walk in to his office on his first day back and have all of his employees treat him softly, like he was some fragile thing, and not the tyrant they despised. To have them ask if he was all right.

Why didn’t he have more visitors? More flowers? More cards?

He was not well-liked, but he was distinguished. That warranted somebody stopping by with condolences. It was just that there was so little in his bare hospital room to distract him from the pain.

As the anesthetic wore off, a throbbing soreness radiated out from his abdomen, growing sharper with time. It was agonizing. With every breath, the contracting of his diaphragm and the expanding of his lungs and ribs tormented the stitches in his skin and the abused organs inside. He was either pumped full of so much morphine he couldn’t stay awake, or was clear-headed and wishing they would pump him full of more drugs so he could not be.

His mother sent a card, and so did the staff of the Baltimore State Hospital For The Criminally Insane. Both had flowers on the front, watercolor roses, and flowing script font in gold, and both meant equally little.

Perfunctory.

The one from the hospital had been insisted upon by the administrator, who had forced the staff to sign it. Each message was generic and impersonal, like they’d been taken from a standardized get-well form letter—although a few were kind enough to make him close his eyes and pretend they were genuinely meant for him. “We miss you, and wish you a speedy recovery!” His heart turned to think one of his employees really missed him and looked forward to him returning. He found the name signed under the message. He had no idea who it was, but he was certain he had never spoken to them.

The one from his mother had most likely been picked out by a maid, presented to her to mark her signature, and then mailed by said maid. It served mainly as a reminder that she hadn’t bothered to visit in person.

Both stung more to receive than if he had no cards at all—written proof that the only way anyone cared for him was as a formality.

There was a third card, however. The only one sent by someone who wasn’t socially obligated to.

You.

Unlike the others, it was completely unexpected. Jack Crawford, Alana Bloom, or Hannibal Lecter he would have understood, but you were last person he expected to hear from.

It wasn’t even a real card, but printed at home on plain, flimsy printer paper with a cartoon dog wearing a cone-collar that said “Sorry you’re feeling ruff” on the cover. The inside had a short, hand-written message: Glad you didn’t die.

Childish. Cheap. He should have been insulted. The whole thing was obviously intended to convey how little you cared. But he kept the damned thing long after he’d thrown the other two in the trash. He wished you would come visit so he could tell you how tacky you were to your face. Perhaps it was best that you didn’t—he would have wanted to buy himself flowers to fill the room with first, so it wouldn’t seem as if you were the only one who cared, or that your tasteless little gesture was anything of significance to him.

He was Dr. Frederick Chilton. It was important for you to know that he didn’t need you at all.

  ***

Frederick’s eyes moved behind closed lids. The swollen purple lids began to twitch, then slowly creep open. The room was hazy and bright with colors streaking at odd geometric angles away from the lights that produced them.

All he could make out were flowers. Dozens of them, hundreds, surrounding him in a resplendent cloud cloud of white and lavender. Either he fell asleep outside in the garden, or he had died and somehow gotten into heaven.

“No, you’re alive, Frederick,” you said from somewhere close. He must have been whispering to himself out loud. Your voice was wavering with powerful sobs that you shoved down to force it to sound soft and patient, but he could hear the laughter in it, too. “You’ve been out for awhile, but you’re doing really well. You just had a successful surgery. They finished debriding your burns and installing temporary grafts so you don’t go septic. Oh, and they were able to get a skin sample! It’s already in the lab so they can start growing you some of your own new skin.”

“Where…?” he blinked a few times, and tried to move before realizing he couldn’t. His body was heavier than lead and a dull ache like paper being torn pulsed beneath his skin at odd intervals. He went to lick his lips, but they weren’t there. His tongue hit empty air above his teeth, and then nothing until it encountered a gauze bandage and a plastic tube going into his nose.

That brought everything crashing back, and he groaned at reality, missing the previous few moments of anesthetic fog when the Red Dragon was just a dream.

You sat beside his hospital bed, on the side of his good eye, watching over him with a hopeful smile, rambling on about how happy you were that he was awake. There was a blue hospital blanket folded over the arm of the chair, and your hair was a mess—he wondered how long you’d been there. Every inch of surface space that wasn’t needed for medical purposes was covered in roses.

“You bought out Holland’s entire stock of flower exports.”

The way the words scraped sluggishly and humorlessly from his hoarse throat, his eyelids drooping lifelessly, made it sound like a reproach—but you laughed. You always laughed at his jokes. 

“They’re all fake,” you admitted. “Hospital rules—you’re an infection risk.”

He wanted to flash you a charming smile, but he couldn’t. He did not know if his face would ever be able to produce a smile again, or how many agonizing surgeries it would take before it could. You wanted to squeeze his hand and kiss him softly, over and over, but you couldn’t. It would be weeks before you could casually touch his skin without the risk of it ripping off. At least now that he was wrapped head to toe in thick gauze, you could reach out and gently rest your hand on top of his. It stung bitterly, but he didn’t show it—he didn’t want you to take your hand away. The pressure was comforting, and your engagement ring sparkled on your finger. 

“I am… glad to see you. These places can be so dull.” He met your gaze, hoping his one functional eye could shoulder the entire burden of body language in conveying his gratitude. He felt so defeated. Hollowed out. He stared up at the plain white ceiling. His words were often callous; it was physical passion which had brought you together in the first place, and without it, he feared he may begin to push you away like everyone else.

“Frederick,” you smiled, but your eyes looked like they might cry. “I’m glad to see you, too. Really glad. I don’t know who was there looking out for you the last few times you were in the hospital, but I wanted to make sure you know how loved you are this time. I’m going to be here every single day with books, and podcasts, fake flowers, and anything you want that I’m allowed to sneak in, until we can go home together.”

He didn’t want to say something trite like, “I couldn’t do this without you.”

He could.

He had before. But he didn’t want to. He never wanted to again. You had wormed so deeply into his heart and given his world color and meaning he had never known, even in his darkest moments. You made the biggest things seem unimportant, and the smallest things monumentally significant. He could never tell you how important you were to him, what it meant to not be alone.

The heart monitor betrayed the warm fluttering in his chest as the slow, steady beeping rapidly increased. You glanced up at the machine with concern, then back down to him, a sly grin spreading across your cheeks. Prideful embarrassment was written clearly all over his face, even with only part of his face left.

You wished more than ever that you could kiss him.

[themusicplayedherlife]

Unrequited (Part 5)

pairing: bucky barnes x reader characters: bucky barnes, reader, steve rogers, natasha romanoff, tony stark, pietro maximoff, crystal amaquelin, clint barton, sam wilson, sharon carter,  word count: 7k+ warnings: curse words, flirty bucky, flirty tony, angst, sad friends summary: things are changing and its startng to get hard to keep up a/n: hi, welcome to the slowest update and slowest burn story ever, but its here now--and let me tell you, this chapter is NOT how i planned... still like the outcome and really, it just means that the next ch is going to be just as long (im also looking for someone to beta future chapters ;o; so if youre interested, lemme know)

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“Natasha?” you call out, entering the eerily quiet apartment. The lights are off, the television quiet and dark, everything you used for breakfast is still in the sink, none of it put away—she hates seeing a full sink, but hates washing dishes in the morning even more, preferring to do them when she gets home when it’s her turn.

You call out for her again, your footsteps echoing as you make your way to her bedroom. Knocking, you wait for a beat before opening the door, and just like the rest of your shared home, her room is dark—even the neon lights she likes leaving on occasionally are turned off. 

Where could she be?

There’s a note on the island counter that has you frowning—Out for the day. It reads in Natasha’s cursive writing. I’ll be home for dinner.

You don’t share any classes with Natasha, today. In fact, you don’t have any classes Tuesdays, something you’re grateful for because having classes everyday last year really stressed you out, and while you’re still stressed having three classes on three days of the week, you have more days to relax and study if need be. 

Your free days also give you the chance to spend time with Natasha, something you both take seriously. Afterall, you made a promise to one another senior year of highschool that you’d always carve out a little bit of time for each other and that you’d always tell one another what was on your mind, never letting it fester.

It feels… weird knowing something is wrong and not knowing what it could be. But you just have to give her space and wait for her to tell you on her own, just as she gives you space when you need it.

Doesn’t mean you like it, though.

With a loud sigh, you leave your apartment.

You shoot him a quick text to let him know you’re here, and he replies by giving you the code for the building and his floor and apartment number. 

Seriously, Bucky? Why is he making you go up?

Grumbling, you take the elevator to the fourth floor and knock on his door, ready to rip him a new one for having you meet at his place rather than somewhere else when it opens to reveal… not Bucky?

Naked torso and bright blue eyes greet you, and widen in surprise as a small squeak escapes your lips. You try to ignore the heat clawing its way up your neck and to your face, desperately hoping he wouldn’t notice.

He says your name breathlessly and you return the gesture with another squeal, head lightheaded and you’re pretty sure it’s not healthy to have all your blood rush to your face like this.

“Steve!” You avert your eyes and focus on the wooden door and the gold numbers 404 instead of his pretty, hairless chest. But it’s kind of hard to keep your focus on something else when your eyes keep wanting to move his way! “Bucky told me to meet him here?”

As if he was waiting for his name, his head pops over Steve’s shoulder, a small smirk on his face—has it always been this punchable? Because your fingers are itching to clock him and wipe that smug look off of his face—that’s becoming a thing isn’t it?

“You’re finally here!” He pushes Steve aside and opens the door wide for you, ignoring the protests of his best friend. He latches onto your wrist, not allowing you a chance to look over the open spaced apartment and pulls you along with him towards the elevator. “I’m taking the car! And put a shirt on!”

You chance a glance over your shoulder to find Steve staring after you both with raised eyebrows and slightly parted lips. Fuck.

“What the hell, Bucky?” you ask as soon as you’re in the privacy of the elevator. 

“You’re welcome,” he says, pressing the button for B—basement you’re assuming.

“You’re welcome?” You repeat incredulously. “For what?”

“What do you mean for what? You got to see a shirtless Steve thanks to me!”

He has a point, the little voice in your head says, but you refuse to listen. Pursing your lips, you turn your eyes away to stare at the blinking numbers over the sliding doors. “I’m not thanking you for that.”

He pouts and it’s so uncharastically Bucky, or at least it's uncharacteristic for the Bucky you thought you knew, that it throws you off guard for a moment. You clear your throat and try to recover. “Come on! I did good! You saw a shirtless, Steve! What are the odds of that happening?”

“Literally none.” He grins at your deadpan words. “Still don’t appreciate it, Bucky! That was embarrassing, for him and me.”

He sighs, slouching back into the elevator wall like a little kid having been scolded for stealing a piece of chocolate. “Okay, I get it. I get it, no more tricking you into seeing a shirtless Steve.”

You resist the urge to sigh heavily at his words. “I hate you.”

He grins toothily.

You watch him as he smiles at the poor girl behind the register ringing him up for a pair of sunglasses. She ducks her head shyly, curling a lock of her hair behind her ear as does her best to quell the blushing on her cheek. 

He had told you to keep an eye on them, watch him as he tries to win over the cashier with his charm, but from where you’re standing? You’re not seeing shit.

He thanks her with another smile, taking his card that she hands back to him before making his way to you. 

You quickly look away when her eyes begin to drift from him to you.

“Did you see?” he asks as he settles into step with you to lead you to another store.

You nod and cock an eyebrow. “What exactly was I supposed to learn from that?”

He makes a face—nose scrunched and eyebrows furrowed. “How easy it is to flirt?”

“I saw none of that,” you deadpan.

He sighs deeply as if completely disappointed in your lack of attention and you have to resist the urge to smack him and roll your eyes. “Did you not see how I—you know what. Never mind.” Before you can even question him, he continues on: “We’re not just here to teach you how to flirt, we’re also here because you need an outfit for the party. Two birds,” two fingers lift into the air and then one finger goes down, “one stone.”

You do a double take, blinking slowly and letting his words process. “I need an—no, I don’t!”

“Oh, yeah?” He raises an eyebrow as he opens the door. “What were you thinking about wearing, then?”

“I don’t know?” You reply indignantly. What exactly is he getting at? “Some jeans and a shirt? You know, like casual clothes.”

When you don’t make a move to enter, he grabs your arm and pulls you along with an eye roll. “That’d be fine for any other party, but this is a Stark party. People dress up to impress, and those that don’t, stick out like a sore thumb.”

Great.

“Come on, sourpuss.”

That’s rich coming from him.

But then again, he hasn’t been much of a sourpuss with you anymore has he? 

“What about this?” he asks, amusement laced in his words as he grins stupidly at you. In his hands is a short and skimpy dress that you would never wear out of fear of what you might accidentally end up flaunting.

A glare is all he gets as a response and he laughs loudly. “I’m joking!”

You miss sourpuss Bucky.

He has you searching the floor for something—anything, he deems acceptable for Stark’s party, but you honestly don’t understand why you can’t just wear casual clothes. And when you voice it, he keeps emphasizing the whole “sticking out like a sore thumb” bit. As if he knew you liked blending with the crowd rather than stand out. You relent, allowing him to help you pick something out, too, but you still don’t like the idea of dressing up for a College party.

A blue romper is suddenly shoved in your line of vision and you took a step back to follow the arm attached to the shimmery romper. “Pretty, right?”

You wrinkle your nose involuntarily. It is a pretty romper (better than the first one), with a low open back and a sweetheart neckline. You’d wear it, but it looks more suitable for clubbing than a college party.

“I think it’ll look good on you!”

You reluctantly grab it from his thrusting hand. “Isn’t it too much?” You check the tag. “Besides, not my size.”

“It’s perfect for Tony’s party,” he muses as he ushers you towards the rack where he found the romper, encouraging you to find your correct size. “And it’s actually pretty tame compared to what you’ll see others wearing.”

“You know, you’ve been really making me dread going to this party,” you grumble, pulling out a romper that’s in your size. “You keep making it sound like it’s the event of the year.”

He nudges you towards the changing rooms. “It might as well be. A lot of people look forward to his parties, use it as a chance to completely unwind without any rules binding them to the usual frat party rules.”

Which would make sense as to why Natasha is looking forward to it, especially when she seems to be stressed from outside factors.

“That still doesn’t make me feel better.”

He rolls his eyes. “Stop being a baby.”

The dressing room attendant allows you both in with a smile, pointing to a stall you may use, and you both thank her.

The music is a little louder in the dressing room area than it was on the floor, Dua Lipa’s New Rules blasting loudly, enough to make you drum your finger against the hanger.

“Besides,” he starts from the other side of the door. Through the crack, you can see him with his back turned towards you and waiting. “Going to this party will be your chance to open flirty dialogue with Steve, show him you’re actually interested in him.”

You take your time undressing. “None of what I’ve seen so far will help, Bucky. Smiling and touching someone isn’t flirting.”

“It will!” he assures you over the music. “It’s part of the basics on how to flirt.”

“Okay? But what else?” You were really hoping for more. He made teaching you how to flirt seem like such a big deal the other day. 

He doesn’t answer you.

“Bucky?” When he doesn’t answer again, you quickly scramble to put on the romper, not bothering to check yourself in the mirror. You call his name again. No answer. Again. “Are you—“ You open the door to your dressing room and to your surprise, Bucky is still standing outside of your dressing room, closer to the one next to yours. “Why weren’t you answering?”

He leans against the door with his shoulder, hands in his pockets and stormy eyes meet yours when you poke your head out. “Well? Aren’t you gonna show me?” Your forehead creases as your eyebrows curve inward. He motions to the side with his head as if asking you to step out. 

With a reluctant step, you come out of hiding, showing him the outfit with a ducked head.

His eyes sweep over you and his hands come out of his pockets, a lopsided grin appearing on his lips. “Wow—you look—you look great, doll.” 

Doll? You don’t question it even though you’re curious about the sudden pet name, besides, you’re a little flustered at the genuinity in his voice “You think so?”

“It’s gonna be hard for anyone to look away from you,” he says, eyes twinkling with some kind of emotion that you can’t read. Mischief, maybe?

You pause, the heat that had been gathering in your cheeks suddenly cools as the hair on your arms stand awkwardly. You can’t help the small shiver that runs down your spine, or the small noise of disgruntlement that escapes your lips. What was wrong with him? “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” he asks, reaching for a lock of your hair and you jerked away. 

Your eyes narrow as you watch the smile on his face grow, but soon they widen as the realization hit you. “Are you—are you trying to flirt with me?”

His smile drops and it’s your turn for your smile to grow, a laugh escaping your lips. His lips form a pout and he groans. “Why are you laughing? This isn’t funny. I’m teaching you how to flirt!”

“By giving me chills?”

He leans away from you, in shock that you’d think he’d ever do such a thing! “I did not give you chills!”

“You did!” you assert as you lift your arm to show him the bumps and awkwardly standing arm hair.

“There’s no way I caused that!”

You shove your arm further into his direction. “You totally did!”

He stares at you unblinkingly, your words processing in his head and taking in your form, until finally, he groans loudly, gaining the attention of the attendant. “But my flirting has never failed!”

You laugh, stepping away from him. “Well, your mom did say you seem to be under a dry spell.”

“Hey!” He sputters. “Just get changed!”

You shake your head with a smile and head back into the changing room to change out of the romper and back into your regular clothes.

After paying for the romper and walking around aimlessly, you two find yourself at the food court sitting across from one another with ice creams in hand. 

“Since—apparently—showing you wasn't the best way to reach you how to flirt, telling you might be,” he says after a spoonful of his strawberry cheesecake ice cream. “Flirting isn’t rocket science, doll. Everyone can do it.”

“Not everyone.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re not giving yourself enough credit. Flirting is all about conversation and being confident while doing it,” he says, straightening his back. “A lot of people have this… idea, that you have to be coy and charming to flirt, but you don’t have to be. Sometimes it’s all about compliments, other times it’s about subtle touching, or most of the time—both.”

You close your lips around your spoon, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Try it on me.”

Your spoon almost drops from your hands at his words. “What?”

“Try flirting with me.”

“Bucky—“

“You’ve seen me flirt twice—“

“I learned nothing from either time.” 

He blatantly ignores you and you can’t help but laugh under your breath. “So, you have an idea of what you should do when flirting with someone.”

“I don’t know—“

“Just compliment me, talk to me, reach for my hand or something.” He smiles. “You’ve got this.”

You take a deep breath and finally relent. Placing your spoon back into the cup with your melting ice cream, your eyes meet his expectant gaze.

Sweeping over his eager gaze, your eyes fall on the red beaded bracelet wrapped around his wrist. It’s homemade, a little worn out by the look of the scratches on some of the beads. But it’s cute, reminds you of something you would’ve made when you were in middle school for Natasha, or something your younger brother would’ve made for you. Did one of his sisters make it for him? Shyly, and nervously, you reach for the beaded bracelet, gently running your index finger over the small beads. 

“I like your bracelet.”

“Yeah?” He asks with a wide grin, stormy eyes watching you carefully and you can’t help the heat licking at your skin—god, this is embarrassing!

“Yeah, it’s cute… looks good on you,” you mutter, hooking a finger under the bracelet and flashing your eyes up at him from under your lashes, still feeling hot and embarrassed, and if you cry, holy shit you’re going to die. You can’t even read Bucky’s expression, there’s a smile on his face but his eyes are pretty neutral. Fuck. What if you’re messing up? What if you’re only making a fool out of yourself? “No!” You gasp softly, extracting your finger from his bracelet and covering your face with both hands. “No, I can’t do it!”

“Come on,” he drawls and gently takes hold of your wrists to coax your hands away from your face. “You were doing great!”

You let him pull down your hands and purse your lips, not completely believing him, but he sounds genuine enough. “Was I really?” 

“Yes, you were!” he says, patting your hands in his. “You complimented something on me and me, found an excuse to touch me and kept eye contact for most of it! That’s pretty fucking amazing.”

You slip your hands from his to cup your jaw and groan. “I wish I could believe you.”

“All you really had to do was ask questions, prolong the conversation, make me think you’re interested in knowing more about me,” he advises softly. “If you do something similar like this to Steve? He’ll be putty in your hands.”

Giddiness bubbles in your stomach as you think of Steve flirting back, but… “But what if I get too nervous? Or fail?”

“Then you breathe, remind yourself you’re having a conversation to get to know him outside of what you already do know.” He waits for a beat, eyes searching your face for a moment and sighs. “Some people like to lay it on thick with the charm because that’s what they’re good at. You? You’re just… you. Doe-eyed, a little awkward, more than a little blunt sometimes. So use that to your advantage.”

You don’t fully believe him, but he sounds so sure of himself that you can’t help but agree to try it. “All right. Okay, I’ll do my best.” 

“That’s all you need.” He grins and tilts his head towards one of the many entrances of the mall. “Want to head home?”

You look down at the ice cream pooling in your cup and decide to throw it out along with Bucky’s empty cup. “Mind if I check out the Disney store before we go?”

He remains seated, thanking you as you take his trash with yours. “Was afraid you wouldn’t ask.”

Throwing the two cups, you look at Bucky over your shoulder, ignoring the family of four that cuts between you to occupy a table. “You like Disney?”

He scoffs, offended that you even thought of asking such a heinous question. “Of course, I do.”

You shrug, laughing under your breath as you wipe the imaginary dust from your hands. “Most guys hide their affinity for Disney.”

Without thinking much of it, Bucky grabs the bag carrying your romper from the empty chair. When you make a grab for it, he tells you he’s got it and begins to lead you towards the Disney store. You follow after him, thankful. “I’m not most guys,” he quips back. “But… uh… does Natasha not like guys that like Disney?”

You blink, processing his shy inquiry and then throw your head back in laughter. 

“Hey! It’s a legit question, if she doesn’t—“

You fall into step with him, smothering your laughter with the back of your hand. “What? Are you going to hide your love for the mouse from her if she doesn’t?”

“Maybe?”

You roll your eyes. “I suggest you don’t, Bucky. Natasha… she likes authenticity.” He knows this! But he’s really gung-ho on changing himself for her, isn’t he?

“It’s not like I’m going to lie about it! I’ll just be… omitting the truth.”

“That is lying,” you say with a bit of whine and drawl in your voice. “Lying by omission.”

 “Whatever gets her attention.” His lips turn down and his eyes sweep down at you with a semi glazed look before staring forward. “That’s the whole point of this, right? Getting their attention?”

You try to hide the wince and find that you can’t bring yourself to refute him.

Your eyes meet your own in your mirror’s reflection, and with a deep breath, you leave your bedroom.

Natasha is on her phone, fingers tapping away at the screen barely acknowledging you other than a, “Finally!”

“Sorry,” you start as you make a beeline to the fridge for water. “I’m just a little unsure of what I’m wearing.”

She looks up, twisting in her seat to take a look at you and she lets out a strange noise that sounds akin to excitement. “Where have you been hiding this little number?”

You purse your lips. “It’s okay?”

“Are you kidding me?” She stands and makes her way over to you, smirking wickedly, hand to her chest as she buckles her knees. “I am in love!”

You gently push her away and she cackles. “God, you’re so weird.”

“You love me!”

“Yeah, yeah!”

Pietro: bruh, i am in awe

Pietro: i shit you not, you’re going to be fucking blown away when you guys get here

You: His place that nice?

Pietro: what do you think?

Attached to the message is a picture of Pietro making a face at a large chocolate fountain in the middle of who knows where and you honestly can’t believe it. You really fucking can’t. Who fucking owns a chocolate fountain other than a fictional character?

“Are you seeing this?” you ask Natasha, who sits beside you in the moving taxi, staring incredulously at your phone screen as you receive another message from Pietro, but this time of him sticking a marshmallow into the fountain with a stick.

She hums. “Seeing what?”

“What Pietro just sent—group chat?”

“Oh,” she says. “No.”

Sighing, you put away your phone, ignoring the incoming text from Pietro most likely asking how far away you are. “Who do you keep texting?”

“Huh?” She looks up at you after a moment of silence. “Oh, a friend—hey, you don’t mind if I invited them to tag along, right?”

A friend? You try to keep yourself from frowning, keeping a more neutral, curious expression. “I don’t mind, but, who did you invite?” You’re pretty sure you know everyone she knows or at least know of the people she deems worthy enough to call friends—which aren’t many (and are literally the same people you call friends).

“He’s one of the guards at the center,” she says, returning her attention to her phone, a smile appearing on her lips as she types out another message. “I had trouble on the first day and he helped me.”

“Wait, you had trouble?” Why didn’t she tell you that? She had only mentioned that it went well, but the kids could be a bit too much if she wasn’t stern enough.

She waves her hand dismissively. “Yeah, got lost. Not a big deal.”

She got lost and made a friend on her first day and it’s no big deal? “Right.”

She raises her head to look at you once more, eyebrow cocked and ready to say or ask something, but the driver pulling up slowly and saying, “Here we are,” distracts you both, stealing your attention for a moment and making you both glance out the window.

“Wow,” is all you can manage to say as you stare up at the modern home—mansion, really—as you push open the car door to step out, Natasha right behind you. You knew Tony was rich, but this, this is crazy rich.

The chocolate fountain now makes sense.

You both thank your driver and the man nods, wishing you both a fun night before driving off.

“And I thought your parent’s home was big,” you tell Natasha.

She chuckles, clapping your back before beginning to lead you towards the main entrance and closer to the loud music playing indoors. “Pietro and Crystal are already here, right?”

“Yep. They might be by the chocolate fountain, wherever that is.”

“Cool, I’m going to look for my friend,” she says, pushing open the door and allowing the music to escape from the enclosed space—“Meet you there?”

She’s seriously not thinking of leaving you—oh my god, she is. She’s really leaving you!

Before you can even begin to protest, she’s become one with the sea of bodies occupying the open space and you can no longer see your friend among the masses.

Great. Now what?

You frown and when a person knocks into you by accident, giving you a hasty apology as they keep moving, you can’t help but sigh. Why did you even decide to come?

You pull out your phone and read the message Pietro sent you earlier, and reply telling him that you’ve arrived. In a matter of seconds, you receive a message from him saying he’s still by the chocolate fountain and to hurry the fuck up.

Well, at least you still have Pietro. 

Just as you’re about to put your phone away, it vibrates with a text notification, your text tone completely drowned out by the music.

James Bucky: How’s the party?

You: Just got here

James Bucky: Barely?

The music is loud around you as you push through the crowd, people not really caring if you bump into them, all of them in their own little world as the bass reverberates through their bones. 

You: Wasnt super keen on the romper.

You: Jumped around a lot of outfits

James Bucky: But I thought you looked great! 

James Bucky: You ARE wearing it, right?

You: yes, zazu gosh

James Bucky: wait

James Bucky: Zazu from the Lion King?

James Bucky: are you calling me an overbearing bird?

You: 🤷🏻‍♀️ 

You: if the shoe fits

James Bucky: listen, if I’m anyone from the movie, I’m Simba

You snort as you reply back: Sure you are

James Bucky: Rude!

James Bucky: Have you seen Steve, yet?

You: no. 

You: Looking for Pietro and his girlfriend first

James Bucky: All right

James Bucky: Guess I’ll let you go

James Bucky: just remember to relax! You’ve got this!

Yeah! You do got this!

Thanks, Bucky.

Your search for the fountain leads you outside to a small courtyard where it’s a little less crowded, but just as noisy with the music and talking. In the middle of it all is the glorious chocolate fountain and in front of it a long table of fruits and other assortments that could be dipped into the chocolate. 

“What do you think?” A voice suddenly says next to your ear and you can’t help but let out a surprised squeal as you jump around to face the culprit. “Cool right?”

“Tony! What the hell?”

He chuckles and looks you over, his eyes still obscured by his dark glasses. “You look good.” He sounds sincere enough, but you can’t help but raise your eyebrow in suspicion.

“Thanks?”

He grins. “You’re welcome.” He looks around you. “Came alone?”

“Ah, no, I came with Natasha, but she went searching for someone.”

“And you?” He asks, removing his eyewear and hooking it’s leg into the collar of his shirt. “You’re not searching for anyone?”

“I am…” you say, a little hesitant, unsure of what his question is meant to mean. “My friend Pietro.”

He tilts his head to the side. “You mean silver haired kid over there?”

You follow his line of vision, head twisting to look over your shoulder where Pietro and his girlfriend are sitting on a wooden bench, gorging on strawberries covered in chocolate. “Thanks.”

“Buckaroo didn’t come with you?” he asks, stopping you from making your way over to Pietro and Crystal.

“Uh, no. Said he didn’t feel like it.”

Tony snorts, he sounds a little bitter. “Of course, he did.”

Curious. “Did you want him to come?”

He presses his lips thinly, before smiling wickedly. “I’d like for someone else to come.”

“Seriously?”

He grins, head ducking and glasses slipping off the bridge of his nose, but he does nothing to stop them. “Sorry, bad joke.” He doesn’t sound sorry at all.

“Do you usually do that?”

He catches your gaze over the rim of his glasses. “What? Make bad jokes?” He shrugs. “Probably.”

“No,” you start slowly, pausing for a moment to search his eyes, study him as much as possible before he can grow offended by your next words, words that you probably wouldn’t say to a stranger and shouldn’t say to a stranger, but still do. “Do you usually deflect when someone goes into uncharted territory?”

He tenses, eyes narrowing and jaw clenching, it only lasts for a second, but you catch it. And that’s enough for you to know you’re right. He lets out a dramatic sigh and looks away from you, pushing his glasses back up. “Ah, and here I thought you’d be more fun than most of these people.”

You purse your lips, ready to retort, but before you can, a hand lands on your shoulder, pulling you away from Tony and to a muscular body—Pietro.

“Is he bothering you?” Pietro asks, eyes locked on to Tony, not even bothering to look down at you. It’s the big brother act.

“Pietro!” You scold him, pushing him away from you and  from confronting Tony. “It’s fine. We were just talking.”

“And now we’re not,” Tony announces, eyes moving from Pietro to you. “Have fun, gorgeous.”

“What was that about?” Pietro mutters, confused as you both stare after Tony. And you can’t help but watch as he joins a group, laughing and smiling with them for only a moment before moving on to the next one. Never staying in one place.

“I don’t know,” you admit, a small frown making a home on your features.

You can never truly tell what the hell is going on with Pietro and Crystal. One moment they’re both laughing and having the time of their life and the next they’re arguing about the little things—this time the little thing being, well, you.

You’ve always known that Crystal wasn’t and isn’t particularly fond of you and Natasha, sometimes seeing both of you as some kind of threat or rivals for Pietro’s love, but you and Natasha usually pay her no mind. This time, however, it’s a little hard to ignore them when she’s whining about the fact you’re third wheeling their date, forgetting the fact that you and Natasha had invited Pietro in the first place, and he had decided to bring his girlfriend along. 

Where’s Natasha when you need her?

Why did you decide to come anyway? Bucky wasn’t joking when he said a Stark party wasn’t a place for striking up conversation, yet somehow he encouraged you to come and said it would be the perfect opportunity to flirt with Steve. Who, by the way, you haven’t seen since you arrived! Granted, you haven’t moved from your spot in the courtyard, but you aren’t so sure going around specifically looking for Steve would be such a good idea. What if you do start dating Steve and you one day tell him that you frantically looked around for him at a Stark party, actively avoiding everyone just to be able to talk to him? He’d most likely freak and call you a freak, and you’d much rather avoid that.

“Then go,” you hear Pietro snap, pulling you from your rambling thoughts to look at him and Crystal, both of them practically in each other’s faces.

His blonde girlfriend with wide blue eyes falters, eyes drifting from him to you and back, and you watch as her bottom lip wobbles for dramatic effect before throwing her hands up in the air and pushing Pietro away from her. “Fine! I didn’t even want to come to this stupid party anyway!”

Pietro sighs heavily as she storms off.

“You sure letting her leave like that is a good idea?”

“Yeah,” he says through a grimace, falling back down onto the bench he and Crystal has been occupying. “It’s fine. We’ll work it out tomorrow. We always do.”

You have no doubt they’ll work it out, because he’s right, they always do. But you still can’t help but worry. How much more fighting and arguing can they take before they break? “Okay. Do you want me to get you a drink?”

He shakes his head and reaches for the red plastic cup by his feet. “I’m good, thank you.” He scoots over and pats the seat next to him. 

You flash him a small smile and drop yourself down next to him, taking the chocolate strawberry he offers you before pressing his own strawberry against yours and scarfing it down.

“What’s with the doom and gloom?” Natasha finally joins you, finding you and Pietro sitting on the wooden bench, gorging on chocolate covered fruit. “It’s a party!”

You and Pietro don’t bother reacting to her shimmy of the arms, you instead cock an eyebrow. “Did you find your friend?”

She nods, smiling, looking over her shoulder and making a come here motion with her hand—and who exactly she motions over isn’t who you were expecting.

Not only is it Steve, but it’s Steve. Handsome, blue eyes, pretty Steve, who flashes you a bright smile even after you’ve seen him half naked.

Your mouth falls open in surprise. Steve? Why would it be Steve? As far as you knew, Steve doesn’t work as a security guard. Not at campus, not at the accounting firm he’s interning, and definitely not at a recreational center! He would’ve mentioned it, right? You look at Natasha, but she’s not looking at you, and she’s not looking at Steve either, you note.

She’s looking at someone behind him, someone shorter with darker hair—dirtier, and darker blue eyes—“Clint?”

All eyes snap in your direction, but you pay them no mind, you’re completely transfixed by the man wearing a purple hoodie and acid wash jeans, who immediately recognizes you and smiles cheekily.

“You know each other?” Natasha asks and it's Clint who explains with a nod.

“She’s a regular at the museum, usually comes in during my shift.”

“Huh.” Natasha huffs out a breath. “Small world.”

Steve chuckles and that sound would usually cause your heart to flutter, but you’re currently very much in awe of the fact that Natasha has adopted Clint as her friend. “Guess that makes it easier with the introductions.”

“Uh, excuse you. I don’t know who he is. Hi, I’m Pietro. And you are?”

“Clint Barton, security guard extraordinaire.”

Natasha smiles in Clint’s direction and leans against him, surprisingly enough—which is putting it lightly. You’re more than surprised, you’re absolutely floored, Pietro is too because he turns to you with wide eyes and mouths “what the fuck?”

What the fuck indeed.

Natasha isn't the type to be so… hands on or touchy with strangers (well, then again, Clint isn’t exactly a stranger). It took months—half a year to be exact—for her to be comfortable with touching Pietro, and being touched by him. But here she is, having known Clint for a couple of weeks—BARELY—and is already using Clint as a resting post.

Yeah.

It’s official.

Bucky is screwed.

A Stark party is a sensitive overload, if you’re being honest. 

Here you are being rewarded with Steve looking mighty fine in a yellow button down and dark, regular jeans, but you’re somehow distracted by the way your best friend refuses to leave Clint’s side.  

She’s smiling, chuckling that soft, genuine chuckle of hers when he cracks a joke or tells a funny story. There’s a spark in her smile and eyes that you haven’t seen in such a long time—not since high school. 

You’re happy for her…. but…

This is going to hurt Bucky, isn’t it?

“Hey,” Steve’s warm voice reaches your ears and your body reacts without a minute to waste. Heat crawling up your neck as you practically rip your eyes from them to him.

“Steve, hey.”

“You look beautiful.” Your heart practically beats out of your chest, eyes widening at his sincere compliment and how he studies you with a warm gaze. It takes all of your energy to stay upright, even when the blood rushes to your head and your knees buckle.

He called you beautiful. Steve. Steve freaking Rogers!

Breathe and relax, doll. Flirting is simple conversation. Not an art. “Thank you.” Your voice is quiet, but still managing to be heard over the music if the tick of his lips is anything to go by. “You do too. Yellow is a good color on you.”

What? What kind of compliment is that?! Every color is a good color on Steve!

He chuckles, his eyes slipping down to the button down he’s wearing. “Thanks. This is actually Bucky’s. Told me I should wear it for tonight.” He fixes the collar of his shirt as the first button comes undone, and you can’t help but avert your gaze shyly. What the fuck is wrong with you? It’s just some skin, you dumbass! “You wouldn’t think so, but Bucky actually has an eye for picking out clothes,” he says fondly, proud of his best friend. “It’s one of his hidden talents.”

You return your gaze to him, but this time focus on his eyes, smiling when his own gaze meets yours. “I actually believe you. He helped pick out this romper for me.”

His eyes brows quirk upward. “Bucky did? Really?

“Uh, yeah, actually.” Did you say the wrong thing?

You almost grow worried when the silence between the two of you stretches for a moment longer until he smiles again, eyes softening. “I’m glad you’ve become Bucky’s friend.”

You’re not so sure you and Bucky ARE friends, especially not after he reiterated why you're both talking and helping eachother, but under Steve’s sincere gaze you can’t help the, “I’m glad too,” that slips from your lips. And you definitely don’t regret it when his smile widens.

“Ah, listen, I want to apologize about the other day,” he says, his cheeks red as he rubs the side of his neck and eyes drifting shyly off to the side. “I don’t usually open the door shirtless, but Bucky was hurrying me… and…”

Of course he was. God damn that Bucky! “No, no, it’s your home. You’re allowed to be comfortable. I’m sorry I was so awkward about it. I just--I have never seen that.” Steve’s eyes snap up in your direction and for a moment, you replay your words—have never seen that—what the hell is wrong with you? “I mean, I have. I definitely have seen a shirtless man before. Who hasn’t? I meant to say I have never seen you—you know what? I’m just going to shut up now.”

He blinks slowly and without warning he lets out a loud laugh that takes you off guard, but it fills your chest with warmth. You recognize this laugh; it’s his genuine laugh. The one that makes him throw his head back, hand clutching his chest, and laugh without any inhibitions. And you caused it. You.

You can’t help but chuckle along with him.

And when Steve finally calms down, he glances down at you with crescent eyes and a genuine smile. “You’re cute.”

Heat crawls to your neck and you can’t believe it’s possible to even get this hot and embarrassed. “Thank you?” you squeak.

This is good right? Steve across from you, drink in his hand and smiling down at you as if you’re the only people in the room. And you might as well be, because the music sounds so distant and Pietro’s laughter is muffled. 

This is your chance.

This is where you put a hand on his shoulder; lean into his space a little and flash him your doe eyes that Bucky mentioned. This is it! This is where you hint at your feelings, this is—

“Steve!”

Damn it, Sam! 

“Look who I found!”

The smile on his face drops and you can't help the way your body jerks when he mumbles the name, “Sharon,” so breathless.

You’re no longer the only two people in the room. The world spins and tilts, and it moves faster than you thought possible—all noise and music coming back to life and deafening you as Steve doesn’t spare you a glance to walk towards the beautiful blonde with kind brown eyes smiling at him.

You push through the crowd, needing to get away from whatever the fuck is going on inside. Steve barely even glanced at you after Sharon had appeared, which shouldn’t be surprising, really. His ex-girlfriend is beautiful and the two didn’t exactly break up on bad terms. They had decided that while she studied abroad at Cambridge for the year, it would be best for them to break up. 

So really, you should’ve known that the moment she would showed up, you wouldn’t have a chance.

Not like you had a chance before. But you had hoped with all of your heart that maybe you could have a chance.

You were wrong. Bucky was wrong.

The fresh, cool air hits you as soon as you’re out on the front porch, and you release an exhale.

“Tough night, gorgeous?”

Your eyes snap to Tony, who sits on one of the porch chairs, legs kicked up on the small rounded table, and a cigarette in his hands. “You could say that.”

Tony puts out the cigarette by smashing the tip into the ashtray by his feet.

“Why aren’t you inside playing host?”

A smirk lifts his lips. “Taking a break. Hosting is a lot of work.”

You snort. “I’m sure.”

“Why aren’t you inside?” You shrug and watch as he stands up and moves to the chair over, pointedly looking at the now empty one as if inviting you to sit with him. You do. “Saw you getting chummy with Steve earlier. Didn’t know you had it in you, gorgeous. Bucky and Steve?”

You freeze, eyes widening as you sputter. “What? Bucky and I are just friends and Steve… Steve… is just a friend too.”

He chuckles. “So not gaga over Buckaroo, but definitely deep in the feels for golden boy. Got it.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Sure it isn’t.” He grins, but there’s no malice in his teasing and for some strange reason, you don’t mind it.

The music is muffled, even with the loud volume it’s set on. But you can make out Ariana Grande’s voice as she sings thank u, next.

“So, were you rejected by golden boy? Is that why you’re out here?”

“Rejected would imply I had a chance.”

“Why wouldn’t you have a chance?” he asks, genuinely curious.

“Sharon.”

“Ah, the ex girlfriend.” He tilts his head back against the headrest. “Is she back? I heard she was back. But you know how rumors are.” Is he alluding to himself? 

You watch him and he all does is lift his lips into a smirk that has you shaking your head. Best not to dwell on it. Turning away from him to pull out your phone, you notice you have messages from Bucky and Pietro, but you don’t read either of them, instead going into the Uber app to get a ride home. “Guess so.” 

He leans closer to you, peeking at your screen for a second before pulling back. “Ordering yourself a ride?”

You nod, watching as the screen changes when you confirm the addresses and the arrival time and map show up. In a couple of mins you’ll be on your way home. Thank god. “Yeah. I’m just—I’m just really tired.”

“Mind if I come with you?” he jokes, lopsided grin in his face.

You put your phone away once your ride is confirmed and find him no longer staring at you, but instead watching the empty streets, the occasional night drifter passing by. “For someone who likes throwing parties, you don’t seem to like being in yours.”

He chuckles. “Would you believe me if I told you I get tired?”

“Why throw them?”

He shrugs, but doesn’t answer and again, you don’t push him to either. You barely know him, and you have a feeling he’s told you more than he’s told anyone else in one seating. 

“Okay,” you murmur and his eyes flicker in your direction before nodding and returning his gaze to the streets.

The two of you remain that way until your uber comes to pick you up. He walks you to the car door and opens the door for you, wishing you a goodnight and waiting until you’re far enough to head back inside.

Tony is an enigma, isn’t he? Everyone thinks they have him figured out, but you’re not so sure Tony even knows who he is himself. 

Does Bucky?

You’re about ready to drop dead on your feet as you push open the front door and flick on the light to your apartment, your phone in hand as you mindlessly reading Pietro’s “where’d you go?” text. Honestly, you have half a mind to drop yourself on the sofa instead of your bed, even if your bedroom is only a few steps away from the sofa. 

Just as you’re about to close the door behind you and are about to click on your text message thread with Bucky, the creaking of wooden flooring meets your ears and your eyes whip up, finding an unfamiliar woman standing next to your dining table with a hesitant smile and wide, green eyes.

“Who the fuck are you?”