#if there's one thing im gonna do it's take an ask prompt too thoroughly

[ta5tier]

isat thoughts, go

[this ask is actually an excuse to ramble about whatever thing you can't get someone else to prompt you to ramble about]

i just woke up so this probably wont be too coherent but here we go!

I, like many, discovered ISAT through @jelloapocalypse’s fantastic video on the game, and by that I mean I watched the first 5 minutes of the video and immediately stopped and played the game myself.

I already liked time loops as a literary device, especially in games (outer wilds rocks, 12 minutes is interesting despite the general quality, etc) but ISAT managed to get me interested in the story and its characters before even introducing time loops as a mechanic. (Y’ALL I WAS NOT PREPARED FOR ISABEAU TO JUST COME OUT SWINGING LIKE THAT! I clocked that motherfucker before the gang even left dormont, he isnt smooth.)

ANYWAY besides the great character writing, ISAT also managed to nail its genre parody right off the bat, the literal RPS combat is so funny, Mirabelle gives off such RPG protagonist vibes, and its a neat take on the genre to center the narrative around the “edgy”rogue (HA Scissors pun). Along with the fact that Siffrin is absolutely the right amount of mentally unstable, you have all the perfect ingredients for great genre deconstruction.

Spoilers Under the Cut So be WARNED

There are tons of people talking about the story beats further so i’m not gonna spend more time here reinventing the wheel, but something I will talk about is how the game leverages ludonarrative assonance, I.e. how the game reflects the experience of the player as a part of the story.

In the case of ISAT, this manifests as the growing boredom both the player and Siffrin experience as they continue through the loops. On my first few loops I took care to avoid skipping dialogue and made sure my party was leveled up enough to succeed at any of the fights they faced. I explored thoroughly and enjoyed the process of doing so and I only reset when the game asked it of me.

But as the game continued I found myself zoning out of more and more dialogue, skipping more and more fights, and resetting whenever it would save me time. And Siffrin was with me all the way through all of it, his internal monologue growing increasingly disinterested with the affairs of his party members and the dangers they were in.

Ironically, in a game so outside my lived experience I found myself mentally aligned with Siffrin in a way that's frankly a little concerning. (im ok im not in a time loop lol)

The magic of ISAT for me was in that alignment, of feeling a shared purpose with a character, and in the breaking of that alignment in the games later acts. One of my favorite moments in any story is when I realize I can no longer fully root for the main character. Siffrin's last loop was that moment for me and I loved it. Siffrin's final trek through the House is so awful to watch but also represents the logical conclusion of his decent. The witty commentary is gone, his family is gone, the muscle memory that he and I shared in navigating the house is no longer reliable. Its all no longer necessary.

In Siffrin's mind, whats left of them isn't worth saving. And then finally, agonizingly, they are saved. Despite his best efforts to self destruct, his family come for him and they're mad and they're scared but they do it anyway, even when the world is ending around them.

Anyway yeah i love this game so much Siffrin is Stars' most mentally unwell soldier and i love them and their stupid family so much.

[kitchenisking]

April Fic Rec❤️

Hey Guys! I know im late on the monthly rec. Im sorry. RL has been a bitch and I don't see that changing anytime soon, but hoping that if anyone else is going through crazy times that this might help. you guys are also getting a double today cuz its passover! Last year I posted a fic for the 7 days of passover and im going to do the same this year! and seeing how I missed the fist day, right after I post this rec, Im going to post passive day 1 so stay tuned! Love you all😘

Stiles Stilinski resident Tease. by TheBeastsWrite (orphan_account) - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 1254, sterek)

Prompt: Hi, can you make a sterek fic where derek is too afraid to go all the way with stiles for fear of hurting him so stiles makes a plan to turn him on all day by baking, doing chores, and saying certain things sexually until derek can't take it anymore?

The Heat Den by LeatherDearest - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 1612, sterek)

Adult omega Stiles wakes up to find himself locked away in a heat den, with a very possessive and happy alpha.

This is also my first time playing in this sandbox, so please be gentle.

Lay Your Head Down (I Won't Let The Boogeyman Come) by tabris - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 3141, sterek)

"I've kind of. Had this fantasy," Stiles says in a stumbling rush. "And seeing as this may be my last week ever in this room. Kind of a now or never thing. So. Um."

Derek drags his nose up the back of Stiles' neck, pulling him closer to his chest as he makes a questioning sound. 

Stiles takes a deep breath and holds it for a moment, then blurts out, "I just really want you to sneak in, pin me down, and start fucking me so when I wake up I can't do anything but lie there take it."

Phoenix by Unloyal_Olio - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 9376, sterek)

Stiles is a prince with a secret lost in war.

Like a Secret by rufflefeather - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 1644, sterek)

Stiles can't get it up in the aftermath of the whole Nogistune trauma.

Once I'm Done With You by ViragoWrites - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 3748, sterek)

And until recently, dying had never been something he feared. But he had something now, a pack, a home, things worth fighting for that weren’t centered on revenge. He had Stiles. Or he would, once one of them took the initiative and brought this thing that had been developing between them to light.

Or, the one where Derek finally makes a move on Stiles. And what a move it is.

Indelible by SylvieW - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 1978, sterek)

Stiles decided to get a fake tattoo of Derek’s name, as a prank. It does not go the way he expected.

Welcome Home, Baby Papa! by KaliopeShipsIt - (Rating: G, Words: 6420, sterek)

Ten days after Army soldier and family father Derek has left for his latest deployment, his mate Stiles gets some thoroughly unexpected news.

Six months later, the Alpha returns to a very big surprise.

Just for Now by linksofmemories_archive - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 8232, sterek)

“Your heart’s beating fast,” Derek said conversationally, the bastard.

“You’re an asshole.”

“You were going to attack an Alpha werewolf with a lacrosse stick.”

“It was to give me a chance to run.”

“How exactly?” Derek asked. “Show me.”

Fancy Seeing You Here by Anxiety_Baker02 - (Rating: T, Words: 8351, sterek)

To his left was a girl, curled up in the opposite corner and not looking at him, so, of course, he decided to talk to her first. He scooted over to the bars and crouched, trying to see her face. 

“Hello,” he said softly. “Hey, are you Cynthia? My name is Stiles, I’m gonna get you out of here.”

The girl had tensed at the sound of his voice, but when he said his name her head whipped up. Her eyes were sunken in and her cheeks were hollow, her hair matted and her face streaked with dirt, so it took Stiles a moment to recognize her. When he did, though, his eyes went wide and he had to blink a few times to make sure he was really awake; she was one of the few faces that had haunted his dreams for the past three years, the uncertainty of her fate giving his imagination fodder for both heartfelt reunions and terrible visions of torture. He vaguely spared a thought to the irony that the last time they had seen each other had also been in the basement of hunters.

OR:

Stiles lets himself get captured by an enemy and ends up locked in a weird-ass basement. He expected the rough treatment and the cage- what he didn't expect was to find two very familiar faces down there with him.

[chasingfictions]

Ok i haven’t watched btvs in years but i miss spuffy do you have an episode list for all spuffy interactions

dilfjdjfdslkjfdskljfljkdsflkjls .kjfjkdsjklflkjdsflj insane question hi anon . i mean they interact for most of the show but im prepared to go insane here hi .

also if u want simply a compilation of every single spuffy moment ever , youtube user claireice has you covered . would also recommend @smellingwormholes my beloved's spuffy videos . gold standard of content

anyway here are all their episodes n a top moment of mine from each hi . you enabled me for this. we're in a fight. pls know what u've done to me.

2x03 "school hard" 'do we really need weapons for this' INTRICATE RITUALS

2x06 "halloween" -- it's spike being really normal about her 'baby likes to play' . like okay slut <3

2x07 "lie to me" -- my personal calculations show that based on the 1998 flashback in fool for love this is actually when he starts to fall in love with her . my brainworms are very powerful

2x10 "what's my line part 2" -- MUTUAL

2x13 "surprise" - the act of them standing with their respective lovers which will later be turned on its head in the finale . UMM. the REVERSALS.

2x14 "innocence" /made me sick to my stomach seeing you be the slayers lapdog/ lmao that did not age well

2x17 "passion" um. technically in the same room.

2x22 "becoming part 2" TEEHEEEEEE

3x08 "lovers walk" OR SPIKE FOR SOME REASON . pin HIM by the throat onto the kitchen counter

4x03 "harsh light of day" SORT OF A DOUBLE DATE. spuffy is a romcom this episode proves it. theyre serving when harry met sally

4x07 "the initiative" I KNOW A LOT OF GUYS WHO'D LIKE TO GET THEIR HANDS ON HER. @yoursummerfrost voice dru ducks what if the slayer got a giant taser. wouldnt that be fucked up

4x08 "pangs" YOU MADE A BEAR. theyre best friends

4x09 "something blue" . THE BLOOD OF THE INNOCENT .

4x11 "doomed" spike sitting on the armchair behind buffy this counts . spike standing too close to her in the high school . he said proximity he said 14 year old with a crush who doesnt know how to make a move so they r just . Staring n Hovering.

4x12 "a new man" DONT KNOW WHY SHE DIDNT COME . SAY GOODBYE. SHED A FEW TEARS.

4x13 "the i in team" he stands up and stares when she enters the room. victorianism jumping out

4x14 "goodbye iowa" no really buffy . why Is he here.

4x16 "who are you?" spike said hahahaha UNLESS . spike said i hate you that said if u wanted to fuck i am There in One Second No Jokes Please . Please..

4x17 "superstar" . hair touch. ummmm.

4x18 "where the wild things are" . he gets so close 2 saving her life . also spuffy fanfic trope where spuffy are the ones who get the sex ghosts makes this a spuffy episode by proxy .

4x19 "new moon rising" spike said all season HEY NOBODY SEND ME BACK TO THE INITIATIVE CAVES I SWEAR 2 GOD. adam said hey can u go back in with buffy. spike said TEHEEEE . spike said ok i will stand so close to her i will make sure of it. see 14 year old with a crush energy from above.

4x10: "the yoko factor" he spends the whole episode talking about her. inch resting.

4x21 "primeval" tiny interaction but it counts . they Look At Each Other Regard Each Other In The Little Initiative Control Room.

4x22 "restless" xander's dream counts .

5x02 "real me" I WAS TELLING YOU THE TRUTH I KNOW

5x03: "the replacement" . what does he think he's doing with that mannequin before the love reveal. WHAT.

5x04 "out of my mind" IF THAT'S WHAT I WANTED THEN I'D BE DATING SPIKE

5x05 "no place like home" . William.

5x06 "family" . james marsters face in training room teehee.

5x07 "fool for love" spicy Buffalo Wings I'm Feeling Peckish. <3333 ;)))) ;0000

5x08 "shadow" IVE KNOWN SINCE LAST NIGHT

5x09 "listening to fear" @summers-pratt voice . close up of hands confirms movie will turn gay.

5x10 "into the woods" they walk together i cant stress it enough. team power.

5x11 "triangle" HELLO BUFFY

5x12 "checkpoint" BE FUNNY IF THEY DID

5x13 "blood ties" buffy said ummmmm would you mind if i just..... confided in you and treated you as a coparent and confidant would you just

5x14 "crush" what else does buffy say about me you sleep during the day is this a date all that's left is you and a dead shell . moment where they look @ drusilla together in the cave. i think Thoughts About It

5x15 "i was made to love you" . hot tight little body pink lighting tongue out

5x17 "forever" . this counts. SHE WAS DECENT. spike loves his mother in law

5x18 "intervention". ON THE MOUTH

5x19 "tough love" me a few months ago voice . so wyd. scenario.

5x20 "spiral" SWORD CATCH. romance high romance.

5x21 "the weight of the world" little shake shake .

5x22 "the gift" oh. ohhhhh, i tried to pick a moment and then i had to lie down

6x01 "bargaining, part i" SHE'LL NEVER BE EXACTLY

6x02 "bargaining, part ii" this also counts.

6x03 "after life" MARRIAGE. they get married here. spuffy marriage plot.

6x04 "flooded" WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT FINANCES

6x05 "life serial" . date :)

6x06 "all the way" buffy shows up to ask him on a date :)

6x07 "once more with feeling" UMMMMMM

6x08 "tabula rasa" aYOU WERE THE ONE I LOOOVED . stay away from randy

6x09 "smashed" oh idk i dont think they interact in this one :)

6x10 "wrecked" stay im stuck here sun's out

6x11 "gone" . buffy's a great mum :)

6x12 "doublemeat palace" . i can get money

6x13 "dead things" IF YOU WANT I COULD--

6x14 "older and far away" when she escorts him out of the room :)) he's her date :)

6x15 "as you were" tell me you LOVE ME TELL ME YOU WANT ME. you know what i am youve always known

6x16 "hells bells". this dress is radioactive.

6x17 "normal again" PUT SOME ICE ON THE BACK OF HER NECK. SHE LIKES THAT

6x18 "entropy" . didnt take long did it.

6x19 "seeing red" . in all seriousness we've said everything that needs to be said here elsewhere and i think this episode should never have been made as it was. that said looking at its place in the season n its function in the larger soul arc , i think the conversation leading up to That Scene and also the 'things change if you make em' bit have a lot of Content that is worth chewing over

6x20 "villains" clem crypt moment

6x22 "grave" MAKE ME WHAT I WAS SO BUFFY CAN GET WHAT SHE DESERVES

7x01 "lessons" . face touch.

7x02 "beneath you" WHY DOES A MAN DO WHAT HE MUSNT FOR HER TO BE HERS

7x03 "same time same place". .... you went away youve been gone since....

7x04 "help" STAY HERE AND HELP ME BE QUIET. I THINK IT'S WORSE WHEN IM HERE.

7x05 "selfless" basement scene i will weep

7x06 "him" BAZOOKA WRESTLING

7x07 "conversations with dead people" 'he did love me. i didnt wanna be loved.' UM

7x08 "sleeper" 'i know' UM.

7x09 "never leave me" . I BELIEVE IN YOU SPIKE

7x10 "bring on the night" ummm i just think it's not a COINCIDENCE that when buffy is at her lowest and most ragged and desperate it's when her shadowself confidante boytoy is kidnapped n underground .

7x11 "showtime" . the eye contact . dont talk to me.

7x12 "potential" MOM AND DAD SAID IT'S TIME FOR SLAYER SCHOOL

7x13 "the killer in me" I KNEW IT. GOVERNMENT CONSPIRACY.

7x14 "first date" hallway.

7x15 "get it done" . i want the spike that's dangerou.s the spike that tried to kill me when we met.

7x16 "storyteller". when they come into the room together :) "someone has to agree with me. Spike????"

7x17 "lies my parents told me" that's her SPOUSE.

7x18 "dirty girls" . jealous buffy said this is My Vampire.

7x19 "empty places" they said ummmm if u separate me from my lover i will riot.

7x20 "touched" . IVE SEEN YOUR KINDNESS AND YOUR STRENGHT IVE SEEN THE BEST AND THE WORST OF YOU.

7x21 "end of days" . I JUST TOLD YOU IT DID.

7x22 "chosen" hey fellas what if you spent what you assumed to be your last three nights on earth with your soulmate . wht if 'i love you'. what if total shadow self reconcilation. what if fire hands. ummm. FELLAS.

anon i hope youre happy now that youve killed me <3

[prettyboykatsuki]

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take in stride | k. bakugou 

➳ tags ;; 18+ sub!bkg, dom!reader, riding, gn!reader, afab!reader, bkg has braces, reader is a bit of a bully but bkg is also just easily flustered, the nickname braceface, teasing

➳ wc ;; 1.4k (in like. maybe an hour) 

➳ a/n ;; i want him so fucking bad this is so stupid im gonna die. based on this post

➳ synposis ;; bkg has always been easy to tease. when he gets braces, you can’t help but wanna tease him a little more. 

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

You have a lot of vices. 

Primarily, online shopping. A couple of other things here and there - drinking on weeknights, skipping breakfast. You’re not really much of a hedonist, but you have things. Tendencies, habits that you can’t break free from no matter how hard you try.  On the list, or really you’re main one is Bakugou Katsuki. 

Teasing Bakugou Katsuki more like. 

Sure, maybe, it’s considered bullying. For someone so popular, you’re not sure why he’s so easy to pick on. He’s so attractive that even his most dweeb like tendencies seem to becoming part of his ruggish nature. He’s not unpopular. He’s not the most liked guy on campus but people seem to like his unapproachability. You think part of it is fantasy, nobody really knows Bakugou Katsuki. Except you, of course. 

It’s a long story but on coincidence, you found him on hero comic forums - arguing his fucking heart out. You put together it was him based on the fact his username was bkatsuki, and you asked him about it. You didn’t think it was a big deal, in fact - you found it rather endearing.  But when you brought it up, you could practically feel the tension. He immediately went to shut you up, tugging you aside after class and practically yelling at you to keep it wraps. 

You’re not one to get talked down too, you didn’t like his attitude. Honestly the whole thing was pretty funny. Something about him is challenging by nature, and you like that - you like him. 

So, you tease him. And he really isn’t in any position to argue with you over it because you know this big, dark secret. It’s funny to you, more than anything. He always looks ready to ignite, pale skin going this vibrant red. You can’t help yourself. You’ve never really wanted to tease anyone like this. You’ve never been a callous person, and you don’t have any interest in being callous to people in general. You’re not even that callous to Bakugou, you just like to.. mess with him. Like to raise your brows and drop comic book character names and watch him freeze. 

He’s so dorky, you almost feel bad. You like it about him. He sleeps at 8pm, and doesn’t drink (him, of all people - straight edge) and is smart and is genuinely quite a dweeb. If he wasn’t so intimidating in the looks department, he’d have a target on his back. But he’s handsome, and athletic, and that tends to make up for the rest. 

But, you? You know better, and it’s cute to you. It’s so utterly and disgustingly adorable to know that he gets flustered easily. You wanna run him into the ground more than you want to do most things. You’ve tried to leave him alone, let him be - but god does that dorky little flustered make it hard. Makes it fucking impossible. 

You were surprised when you kissed him the first time. Against a wall at some dumb frat party. Even more surprised when he let you, not protesting. Almost shocked when he whimpered that sweet little whimper. After that, you never stood a chance. You were thoroughly, utterly addicted to him. 

He confessed to you, after much prompting, that he was a virgin. No romantic experience. He mostly just studied and saw friends but you only really heard the virgin part. You made it your lifes mission to court him, make him yours. It was all you could ever think about. All you ever thought about was how you were gonna screw with him next. 

Slowly but surely, he let you in. It took a while, but you started dating. The dynamic never really changed, but now you get to meet his friends and you get to ignore his frustration when he’s needy and ready to go home. 

You ease up on him, a little. You try. After all, you don’t want him to resent you. You try to be careful.  

But the moment you hear that he has to get adult braces to correct something in his jaw, you can practically feel your spirit crumble. Any resistance, or self-restraint completely vanishes from your spirit and when he comes to you in your dorm room, with a fresh set of braces across his mouth . You swear you see white. You can’t think of anything other than fucking him stupid. Teasing him, just a little. It comes to you second nature almost. 

Of course he’s your biggest vice. What view could be better than seeing him underneath you? 

“Aw, c’mon braceface - try and hold out a little longer,” 

“Don’t fucking, ngh, call me that! You idiot -” 

You can’t help but slam your hips down with a sharp breath. He’s a terrible liar, always has been. That’s why his big secret was such a problem, and he’s never changing in that. Even as you ride his cock in the middle of your single dorm, he can’t help but be betrayed by his own body. 

He’s exceptionally pretty. His face is flushed cherry red, down to his chest. His neck is covered in a plethora of hickies, new and old. His nipples are pretty and pink and swollen and he looks a messy. Drooling, hair pushed back by a headband (your headband, that he borrowed) and his hold head is thrown back on the chair. His hands are obedient as they rest on your hips, and you smile a little. You keep your movement up, soft and slow - letting your pussy grip him with rhythm.

He can’t help himself but drool a little, always messy and he’s digging his fingers in trying to stop himself from moving. You love seeing him fall apart. Love seeing him grit his teeth as he falls apart. His cock is hot and heavy, painfully hard and twitching endlessly like he’ll cum any second. 

But he wont. He’s trained well, knows not too unless you say it. Knows he can’t unless he begs, pleads - his pride is nothing if not gnarled, the flesh of it in your teeth. It’s the clear ownership in all of it that makes him keen, and when you purposefully tighten up just to hear him say please, he understands it well. 

“You look so fucking cute with ‘em in you know? What choice did you give me, anyway? ‘s your fault,” you muse, another slam of hips that has his entire lower-half tense as he tries to keep it together.

“Open your mouth for me, Katsuki,” 

He opens his eyes, teary, and grits his teeth and stares at you. He looks so miserably burdened. It fules you, his bratting. You choke a little harder, smiling soft and easy. 

“You wanna cum, don’t you?” you pick the past up, the soft shlick, shlick, shlick of you riding him making him ache. Something deep and visceral in his gut as you chase your own orgasm, practically ignoring him. He whimpers, whines. 

“F-fuck, fuck you, fuck” he manages, mouth clamped. He watches, mournful, as you cum. The rubberband snaps and you’re riding out your high with no pity or remorse. You smile as you finish. 

“That felt good. Bet you want to, too, huh? Open your mouth, Katuski,”

He’s at his limit, so he does, shameful. You stick your thumb into his mouth, hooking it into his cheek and laughing. He looks so absolutely pathetic, teary and miserable and it makes you light up. He’s so sweet, so good. 

You hook his mouth open, leaning his head back to spit in his mouth before kissing. It’s sloppy, all tongue, dragging it over the metal with a soft laugh. It makes him squirm, upset. 

“So fucking cute with your braces. Can’t even kiss right, you brat,” you hold his face in your hands as you pick your pace up again, kissing him a few times. 

“But you did good, yknow? Never gonna get tired of seeing all that metal in your mouth. You wanna cum right?” 

“Please, please, please,pleasepleaseplease,” 

“Go ahead, been a good boy for me. Cum, baby” 

He finished out with a silent scream, so much cum coming out you can’t help but giggle. You watch as he cums and cums and cums, stupid slurred “fank yous” leaving his mouth as he does. 

When he’s finished, he’s clinging to you like usual. You pull back a little while he gets soft inside of you, fingers in his mouth. 

“I like the band color by the way,” you comment. He flushes, too tired to fight. 

“...Thank you,” 

You have a lot of vices, really. 

But Bakugou Katsuki has to be your favorite. 

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[writing-gifts]

both sides of the viewfinder chp. 4

adult film star!bruno x afab!reader  (they are also gn)

18+ content!!

chapter 1 || chapter 2 || chapter 3 || chapter 4

——–

A/N: i was not quicker with the next update lol, but im tired of reading over it so gonna just throw it out there now since im mostly happy with it!

anyways, resort time babeyyy 😎

------

You try not to show it but you're filled with excitement. You've never been to a resort and Bruno had offered to pay for your expenses. Of course you were only willing to let him pay half (which was the lowest you could get him to go).

The two of you had been playing a game of sorts ever since your little session in the dressing room. Even though the both of you wanted to finish what you started, you had wordlessly decided to see how long the other would last before giving in. You couldn't really call it romantic but you did know there was lust involved--a lot.

The game had honestly made you quite bold and taught you some patience. Of course you still had some close calls though, and filming Bruno at work had made it that much harder for you. It wasn't fair and you made sure to let the man know this, but he just coyly smiled and told you he was ready to go whenever you were.

You drop your luggage in front of the bed you and Bruno would be sharing for the next week. At first, you assumed you would both be in separate rooms since you weren't an actual item, but Bruno wasn't having any of it which you were glad for. You wanted to get as much alone time as you could with him during this vacation.

You get closer to the sliding glass doors that lead to the balcony. The location was perfect and you had a nice view of the beach from here. You had never seen such blue water or white sand. And you could already feel yourself sprawled out on a towel next to a shirtless Bruno.

"Like the view?" Bruno asks, pulling you from your thoughts.

You nod. "This is great! Thank you again for inviting me."

"Of course. I didn't want to go a whole week without seeing you."

You try to force down the smile that appears on your face in response but it's obvious and you know Bruno already saw it.

He smiles, reaches out and places a gentle hand on your cheek. However, you close your eyes to avoid his very intense and persuading gaze.

"Gonna have to try harder than that," you say under breath as you turn back to the balcony.

"...I didn't expect you to last this long. You've definitely proved me wrong."

"And I'm going to win too." You stick out your tongue.

Bruno smirks but says nothing more before going to unpack his luggage. You eventually pull yourself away from the view to do the same.

-----

You lay on your back, sunglasses on your face as you let the sun warm you. You were still pretty full from brunch and any moment now you expected to fall asleep. 'Til then, you watch Irene, Eli and Jocelyn goofing off in the water and sand.

The group decided to start the day together off at the beach. Which was perfect because today was going to be about relaxation, at least for you anyways. You all had time to get rowdy later if you wanted to anyways.

"____?"

You turn your head to look at Bruno who currently lays on his front. His sun hat sits on the back of his head to keep that part of him shaded.

"If you don't mind, can you put sunscreen on me? It's been awhile since I last did."

"Sure," you say. You should probably put some on too when you're done.

You walk on your knees to grab the bottle out of Bruno's bag and then crawl your way over to him.

You couldn't help but take a moment to admire his tanned back. The muscles along it were a lovely sight and of course being the horny bastard that you are, your eyes drift down towards his ass. He had a cute butt that you had seen many times but still weren't tired of.

You suddenly remember a scene where Bruno was getting railed and need to take a moment to calm down.

Maybe one day…

"Hello?" Bruno pulls you from your inappropriate imaginings.

"Right, right--sunscreen."

You scooch up next to him and move to place your knees on either side of his hips so you can sit on his upper thighs.

Bruno looks over his shoulder at you with a raised brow, causing his hat to fall off, but you smile innocently.

"Relax," you say.

He squints but lays his head back on his arms.

Once you squeeze and rub the cool, sweet smelling cream on your hands you bring them to his shoulders. You spread the cream following the lines of his muscles on his upper back before sliding lower.

You spend a little more time on his lower back then you should, and the dimples that rest above his ass get special attention.

The man's hips shift oh so slightly and you look up and see that his eye is closed and his brow furrowed.

You scoot up and lean forward. "I could do your front too," you whisper in his ear.

"We are in public."

You jolt at the gruff voice a small distance away. Sitting up, you see Abbacchio scowling at the two of you from the giant parasol he's sitting under.

You sigh but move off Bruno before the goth kills you with his glare.

"You're right. Sorry," Bruno says.

You weren't sorry but nod anyways. It's not like you two were doing anything that obvious. Just some teasing. And there was barely anyone outside your friend group out here!

"Just keep it out of my sight." Abbacchio taps the airpods in his ear before returning his attention to the ocean.

After you all get your fill of the beach, which goes well into the evening, it's time to get ready for dinner.

Since it was the first official day of your vacation you all want something more casual but still on the expensive side. So you all eventually decide on Korean BBQ.

"I'm just glad you two didn't try to fuck each other on the beach," Irene says. "Even if it would have been fun to watch…"

Okay so maybe you weren't as discrete as you thought. Abbacchio throws an unimpressed look directly at you and Bruno, but you choose to ignore it.

"I was just putting sunscreen on him I swear…"

Eli smirks at you. "This picture says otherwise."

Your brows raise when they show you and Bruno the image on their phone.

Your cheeks go hot and you look down at your plate. "Why did you even take a picture of that?"

"Memories!"

Jocelyn barks out a laugh. "You have a weird taste in memories cause that's the last thing I'd want to remember!"

You roll your eyes but you know it was in good fun. Bruno seems mildly amused anyways.

Not willing to entertain the topic any further, you pick up a piece of grilled pork from your plate. As you bring it to your mouth, you feel Bruno's leg brush against yours.

You peak over at him but he seems to be completely invested in a conversation with Abbacchio.

You assume it's an accident until you feel him do it again along with resting his hand on your upper leg. His fingers gently squeeze your inner thigh before rubbing the area with his thumb.

You continue eating your food as if it has no affect on you. It takes a lot of will power though as he continues his caresses throughout the whole dinner.

Afterwards, the group splits off. Jocelyn and Irene head to a club, Eli to the casino (Jocelyn made sure to put a limit on the money they could blow) and Abbacchio to the bar. You and Bruno decide to head to your room, obviously not in the mood to go anywhere else tonight.

When you reach your room, you both get ready for bed acting as if you don't want to fuck each other.

You crawl next to Bruno on the bed once you're done with the bathroom.

"I'm not tired yet…" you say

"Me neither."

"I guess we could watch a movie or show. There has to be something we both like on Netflix."

You pick up the remote for the TV and make your way to Netflix and start scrolling through the options on the front page.

"What type of stuff do you like to watch anyways?" you ask.

"Romance works."

"You probably watch the explicit type of romance," you joke.

Bruno's eyes widen slightly and you surmise that you guessed right. Either that or he was weirded out by your statement and that seemed very unlikely.

You smile amused. "Well I guess we could watch something like that then!"

Once you both finally settle on something, you get comfortable and lean against Bruno.

The movie wasn't really that great and every sex scene that happened made you cringe but it was at least kind of entertaining. Still, you were starting to get bored and were still horny from all the nonsense you and Bruno had been up to the last several days.

So in a moment of weakness you place your hand on Bruno's thigh. He looks at you expectantly but you do nothing more.

You want to look at him properly to see his expression but you need 100% focus or you would break. So you keep your eyes on the TV as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. If you were lucky this would somehow bring your game to a close and the two of you could do something more exciting.

Bruno says your name under his breath, but you simply hum. Enduring that dinner was proof of your will and you believe you could keep this up all night if needed. (But that was the last thing you were hoping for.)

Suddenly, you feel a warm hand on top of yours.

Bruno guides your hand further up his thigh. "Please…"

"Huh?" You fake the confusion in your voice.

"Let's end this game."

"Oh...so that means I win?"

"Yes you win, just please touch me."

You smirk and move to kneel a small distance in front of him. "That was so easy!" You were thoroughly going to enjoy this.

When he sees you're not getting closer it prompts him to scooch forward on the bed, but before he can touch you, you push him down on his back and crawl on top. There's a slightly stunned look on his face but it quickly changes to one of anticipation.

You line your chest with Bruno's and lean down for a kiss which he returns enthusiastically.

"I never thought I'd enjoy losing this much...." he murmurs against your lips.

You smirk and continue your kisses down his cheek. Your hands find their way under his shirt and slowly explore the span of his abdomen and chest. He softly sighs when you begin sucking at the skin between his neck and shoulder and your hands squeeze him in response.

When you hear Bruno's breathing become slightly heavier you sit up and remove his shirt. You'd seen his body many times in all sorts of positions but you still take a second to appreciate his toned torso.

You press kisses to his chest and let your hands run down his sides enjoying how he just barely reacts under your fingertips. You stop at his hips, and your thumbs trace back and forth along his hip bones. Your tongue brushes against Bruno's nipple, and you feel him tense under your hands.

You move back to sit on his pelvis and immediately feel his cock through his pants. Bruno gently rocks his hips against your ass, and you entertain the motion by pressing down yourself.

His hands grab your hips, but before he can get too carried away you pull your ass off him. He ends up humping the air and lets out a sigh of frustration. His tune changes quickly though when he sees you move down between his legs.

"I'm not really feeling like I lost anything…"

You gently rub at his hard bulge through his pajama pants. "Well guess I'm just that generous. But at the same time I feel like I'm going too easy on you now."

"Please don't make me wait any longer ____."

You look up and the man's cheeks are flushed and he seems a little dazed, but he doesn't take his eyes off you. Seeing the usually controlled actor look at you this way has your stomach flipping.

"I didn't expect you to be so impatient," you say.

"I suppose you just have this effect on me..."

Smiling to yourself, you pull his pants down and are surprised by a pair of fancy panties.

You raise a brow at him. "...You already knew how tonight was going to end, huh?"

You carefully pull the satin fabric down before licking a slow stripe up his cock. The smug look on Bruno's face is immediately wiped away.

You wrap your hand around his twitching member and press your lips against the tip. He lets out a low hum, and your tongue licks against the slit before your mouth wraps around his sensitive head.

Whenever Bruno tries to move his hips you force them down and continue with your teasing touches along his cock. But eventually you decide to stop messing with him and fully take him into your mouth.

His eyes flutter shut. "Hmm, that feels amazing amore."

Even though he was finally in your mouth you move achingly slow and you can tell he wants you to go faster. And he makes it quite clear.

You let up a bit but mostly keep at driving him crazy. Your hand starts to knead at his balls and you immediately feel him twitching in your mouth.

"____. You're--"

You pull off.

Once Bruno realizes what just happened he deadpans at you. You laugh at his expression and he sits up with a sigh.

"Okay you had your fun, time to lay back."

You raise a brow at him.

Bruno begins stripping himself completely of his clothes. "You're the winner, right? Let me treat you."

Perhaps he had a point, and you didn't really have a problem with letting him takeover. This time.

Before you can think of taking your own clothes off, Bruno's doing it for you. His thumbs hook in the band of your pants and pull them down for you.

"...No underwear?" he asks.

You shrug and remove your shirt in an attempt to prevent yourself from laughing. "Guess you weren't the only one planning on ending this tonight."

Once you're done, you lay down and Bruno settles next to you. He places his hand on your lower stomach and brings his face close to yours. You immediately get caught in his blue eyes. It's not fair that he gets to be so handsome.

His finger easily pushes past your wet entrance while his thumb rubs gentle circles against your clit. Another finger is soon added and he begins to thrust his fingers slowly into you. When he crooks them against your walls you have a hard time holding back the noises you want to make.

"A-Are you gonna get me back for teasing you?" you ask. It would be deserved, but you hope he didn't. You hadn't realized how worked up you were until Bruno started touching you.

"Another time. I don't want to wait any longer."

He removes his fingers and gets himself situated on top of you. Once his hips are comfortably between your legs, you drag a finger along his cock before grabbing and lining it with your entrance. Finally after all the games you could both get some relief.

The moment Bruno feels himself against your entrance he presses in letting you take him slowly, inch by inch. When he's fully in, you sigh and slightly wiggle your hips. One of your legs hook around his waist and you place your arms around his neck. He keeps his eyes on yours as he pulls back before pressing in again and starting a nice and comfortable rhythm.

Your hand plays at the soft hairs at the nape of his neck before properly tangling into his locks. You pull and his lips part, a perfect moan falling from them. His hips thrust against you particularly hard forcing a groan out of you.

You smirk a bit. "Never get tired of that…"

Your fingers massage his scalp before you guide his face close to yours. Your lips join and he quickly presses his tongue into your mouth.

Just as you're really enjoying the kiss, he ends it. But before you can pout he pulls you close against him. His thrusts begin to speed up and his moans are muffled by the side of your face.

You always loved Bruno's moans when you were filming him but something about his current ones were different--so desperate and wanting. They had you clenching on his cock.

His hand snakes down between you two and your eyes fall shut as he rubs your clit. Your breath hitches when you feel him nip your ear.

Bruno hums. "You feel amazing...I feel like I could do this for hours."

You mumble something unintelligible under your breath in reply, not even sure what it you said until you start moaning out Bruno's name. Your back arches and your legs tighten around his waist to keep his hips in place as you come.

Bruno nuzzles against your neck and once your legs relax he continues thrusting.

"You came on my cock so well...ah, just a little more--"

His hips begin to stutter and he calls out your name. You press your lips to his temple and move your hips to help him along. His body tenses before he pulls out and comes onto your stomach.

Bruno's hips rock against you as he comes down and soon his body relaxes against yours. He doesn't seem to mind the mess he's making. His nose brushes against your cheek before you feel a kiss.

After some silence you yawn."...We should do this more often."

He stops peppering kisses on your neck and places an arm over your torso. "Agreed. In fact, we can start again in 5 minutes after I clean us off."

You gawk a bit at him. "Don't you get tired?"

"I do, that's why I said 5 minutes."

You scoff but end up grinning instead. "Well...it's not like we're going anywhere for awhile."

[silkylious]

Funny Way of Saying I Love You (Dabi x Reader)

Pairing: Dabi x Reader Warnings: angst(i have an addiction i swear), fluff Prompts: #9 “That’s a funny way of saying ‘I love you’” and  #16 “When have I ever let you down, babe? Okay, don’t answer that”

A/N: Thank you for the request! im taking my time writing these since im physically incapable of writing drabbles. I hope you like this!!

Shutting the door behind you, a soothing dusk breeze fluttered your hair as you moved farther away from your daily hell. Your boss had made it a point to be a pain in the ass today, well, more so than usual. Working overtime on a Friday evening wasn’t what you’d hoped to be doing but you couldn’t exactly complain, it wasn’t like you had anything planned and the promise of an extra paycheck didn’t sound displeasing. Rubbing your temples to ease the headache (courtesy of your boss’s incessant bitching), you walked on autopilot to your apartment, you couldn’t wait to treat yourself to a bubble bath and maybe even some wine. Little did you know that your plans would be thoroughly ruined by a certain scarred villain.

You made the decision to pass by a nearby convenient store that wasn’t too far from your residence to cop some snacks. Filtering through the brands of alcohol, you grimaced at the overpriced tags of the various red wine brands, you settled for some cheap liquor with a sigh. It ain’t much but it should do the trick. After paying for what little stuff you’d fetched, you continued on your trek to your humble flat. The sun had completely vanished from the sky, a lingering crimson bleeding into a rich indigo. Your thoughts were so spellbound by the beautiful sight, that you just barely heard a strained grunt from your left. Blinking back into reality, you halted in your steps right next to a comically shady alleyway. Just like in those horror movies. You snorted at the thought, briefly comparing yourself to that one character who always dies first in movies. Though your internal jesting was cut short when the same sound propagated through the alleyway again, this time much more haggard, closely followed by violent coughing. Against your better judgment, you treaded forward cautiously. Why were you doing this? You weren’t sure. Maybe it was the unfulfilled dream loitering in the back of your mind resurfacing after many years of suppression, but you couldn’t not help someone out in a time of need.

The deeper you ventured into the alleyway, the louder your rationality shouted, begging you to turn around and book it to your apartment complex. You were stopped in your steps when an aggressive cough broke the quiet, the sound now impossibly closer and blood splattered all over the ground before your feet. Your eyes followed the vermilion trail, skinny legs covered in bloodied up, skin-tight jeans came into view, you were met with familiar scarred features. His eyes were struggling to stay open, though at the sight of you he forced his lids apart, flashing you a bloody, half-pained smirk, red liquid running down his scarred tissue.

You blinked. Dabi blinked. You blinked again and then-

“What the shit, Dabi! Are you okay?!”

You dropped to your knees next to his limp body propped up against the shaggy wall. He gave a humorless chuckle, more blood oozing out of the corners of his lips. Dabi hummed when your hands touched his fucked up face, your quirk already pacifying most of his pain. It wasn’t a healing quirk, you were simply able to transfer emotions, feelings and sensations (to and fro) with skin on skin contact. You didn’t want him knocking the fuck out from sheer pain (heaven knows there is no way you were going to lug this human heater home), so you had to ease him a little before tending to his injuries. Your body twitched as the hurt from Dabi’s body merged into your own.

“I’ve seen better days, sweetheart,”

“You don’t say.” The words came out harsh, reprimanding. Dabi winced, from the pain or from your tone, he wasn’t sure.

The plastic bag that had been temporarily abandoned came in handy, you sorrowfully used the liquor to clean the large gashes on his abdomen (not wanting to risk an infection on the way to your complex), wrapping them up securely with scraps of his shirt. So much for a relaxing bath and liquor. You heaved him up on semi-steady knees and took a different, more desolate route back home. The last thing you’d want right now is for authorities to see you walking an injured Dabi, one of the most wanted villains in the current climate, home. He leaned most of his weight on your shoulder, his shit-eating grin told you he was doing it on purpose. You couldn’t find it in you to retaliate as you usually would, too worried to come up with any snarky comments.

This had become way too much of a ritual for your comfort. You’d find him bleeding by your doorstep at ungodly hours, silently asking for shelter. Each and every time, you’d patch him up, provide him with food and your company. You’d grown attached to the scar faced male, and even if you disdained his line of work, you’d respected his life and independence (as independent as someone who crashes on your couch near daily can be). For the past couple months, his tasks had been getting progressively more and more dangerous. Your heart couldn’t help but clench each time you saw him beaten and bruised. You knew it was risky letting these feelings develop, Dabi had made it quite clear that your relationship was nothing beyond physical, with a level of mutual respect and trust.

But this was the worst condition you’d ever seen him in after one of his missions. Not too dissimilar to the first time you met; bloody, bruised and half-conscious, truly a sight to pity. You’d noiselessly knelt down, pressed your hand onto his cheek, he hadn’t even been able to flinch at your touch, too disoriented to react properly. Though in mere moments, he began feeling the pain ebb away; the injuries were still there, he just couldn’t feel them, he equated the numbing sensation to painkillers and drugs. His eyelids parted, revealing gorgeous teal irises. Full of ethereal beauty, despite being unfocused. You had to actively shun your quirk from relaying your attraction to him as you soothed his pain, his staples and marred skin a stark contrast to your soft fingers. That night you gave him a place to stay while he was on the run, you didn’t know why, but you did. Just this one time you’d said. One time became two times. Two times became countless and the rest is history.

The apartment door was slammed open, you were beyond irate. The more you thought about him, his situation, your situation, the more you felt the urge to knock shit over and scream bloody murder. Turquoise hues followed you with contempt – and mild amusement ­– but mostly contempt. Dabi took his usual spot on your worn-out couch, while you stomped your way into the bathroom to get a first aid kit. With your absence, Dabi was left to his own thoughts running amuck. Dabi wasn’t oblivious. He knew what your silence meant, knew what the look of unbridled worry in your eyes implied. Yet he didn’t want to address the less than subtle growing feelings you have for him. Attachment in his line of work was a surefire way to get hurt, he figured that if he kept whatever relationship you guys had physical, he wouldn’t have any issues to fuss over. But he couldn’t lie to himself, Dabi was conscious of the budding adoration in his heart from the moment you helped him out that first time, in that filthy alley. God, he needed a cigarette.

Much to his pleasure, you came back before his mind could implode in on itself. You sat beside him on the couch, leaving more space between you than usual. Without saying a word, your hands undid his makeshift bandages, slowly but surely patching him up an inch at a time. It honestly felt like a routine at this point. That prompted a sour taste in your mouth, you couldn’t stand how careless he’d been recently, and it was eating you up inside. But you didn’t dare voice your concerns, not wanting another aimless argument with him. If silence would save you another headache inducing fight, then silence it was–

“So, you gonna tell me what crawled up your ass?”

Or not.

“Shut. Up.” You weren’t in the mood for his quips today. Fatigue from work, babysitting a villain and dealing with unrequited feelings severely fouling your otherwise warm attitude. You were just on the brink of throwing caution to the wind and letting loose all the muffled feelings you have for him. One more comment and your composure would shatter. Conveniently – or not so conveniently, he seemed to be in a talkative mood tonight.

“Seriously, what’s up with you?” The question was redundant, he knew exactly what was up with you, but he couldn’t think of anything else. Your quietness was killing him. He had to say something. He should have chosen his words a little more wisely though.

“What’s up with me?! Are you being fucking serious right now?! I come home and almost every day find you bleeding on my doorstep. Almost every day I give your reckless ass a place to stay, only for you to go and get yourself hurt again!” Pent up rage exploded from within you, an amalgamation of emotions gushing out of your pores. His eyes blew wide, not only because he had never seen you this angry, but because of the surge of emotions flooding him. In your fury filled stupor, you’d let go of the tight rein you had on your quirk. With a hand still touching his bruised forearm, you began unintentionally bleeding your feelings into him. Rage, sorrow and worry were just a few of the many emotions that rocked his being. But one stood out among the rest, outshining the others with blinding ferocity. And it honestly scared him, how powerful it was, zapping through his body. He figured you had feelings for him, that much was obvious, but he didn’t think they were that strong. Your breathtaking emotions awakened something in him too, pulling it out of the depths of where he tried to hide it, push it down in hopes of abolishing it.

It was too much to handle this, he kept coming back for help when he could easily seek any of his colleagues out, the implication that you meant something to him was so elating yet so damaging. It kept you stuck in place, barred from shutting him out or walking away. You couldn’t keep hanging onto the hope that he might reciprocate your love. It was harming you, no matter how sensuous he was in bed, no matter how gently he held onto you afterwards, he would never call you his lover. He made that crystal fucking clear. You had to put a stop to this. You leveled your shaky voice as much as your vocal cords would allow, barely whispering.

“Get the hell out, Dabi. I don’t wanna see you here again.”

The emotions sifting through him mellowed out, no longer was rage at the forefront. Pain, hurt and heartbreak ravaged him. But that one emotion was still there, despite him being a gaping asshole, it was still present. He smirked.

“That’s a funny way of saying ‘I love you,’ doll.”

“Wha–“ Before you could question his response, he swiftly captured your lips in his own to shut you up. It was a quick, firm peck, but its aftermath amused him greatly. The look of bewilderment on your face was damn priceless. You were, again, transferring your feelings to him. Adoration, confusion, the overwhelming urge to pimp smack him; it was all too entertaining for him. His vibrant teals settled upon your hand still gripping his arm. No fabric to separate them. Your own eyes followed suit. Oh. You immediately stopped your quirk, redacting your palm in the process for good measure. Dabi delighted in the bashful look that overtook your face, his own growing soft. He had trouble accepting his own feelings, but after experiencing yours, he would, at the very least, try for you. Awkward silence ensued. You both knew it was his turn to talk, to finally let out the unsaid words you’d been longing for.

“(name), I… I wanna do this right, take you out on dates and shit,” He cleared his throat. “If you’d let me.”

Your answer came in the form of a crushing hug. Your love was pouring into him again, this time of your own accord. You held onto each other, his hands biting into your skin, your own carding through his dark locks. You didn’t need words. Figuratively and literally. He felt everything in bright, flashing colors, he never wanted this moment to end. But it did. His phone rang.

Clear annoyance shined in both of your eyes. With a heavy sigh, he left your embrace, getting up to answer the call.

Another mission.

With the very recent revelations both of you had come to, the idea of him going on missions carried a lot more weight than it used to. Now in front of your apartment door, he put on his shoes, ready to head out to the League’s hideout. Dabi turned around, breath hitching when he saw you standing there frowning, eyes tearful. For some reason, you had a gut feeling this mission wouldn’t be so easy. You didn’t want him to go. And it was showing.

“C’mon, baby doll. Don’t give me that look. I’ll be back, I promise,” When you didn’t even crack a smile at the nickname he sighed. “When have I ever let you down, babe?” He quickly backtracked. “Okay, don’t answer that,”

You managed a small giggle, shaking your head. You approached him slowly, silently wrapping your arms around him. You relished in his quickening heartbeat. Pulling back, you placed your hands on his clothed shoulders. You edged forward, puckering your lips against his own, the point of contact allowing you to relay your inner turmoil to him. Your hands itched towards his face, fiddling gingerly with the multiple staples aligning his cheeks. “Come back, okay? I love you.”

Breath caught in his throat, Dabi tried to push the words setting him aflame through his lips, but he couldn’t. This was happening too fast; it was giving him whiplash. He didn’t know how to say those words yet, so he opted for calling out to you.

“(name)…”

Without even using your power, the conflict in his eyes told you everything you needed to know. you pushed your forehead to rest against his. His love burned through you, so intense, so like him. With a tiny tug at your lips, you lulled the raging storm in his mind. “Shh, Dabi. I know.”

With a parting peck, he was out the door. He didn’t know what was to come out of this mission, but he did know that he now had one more reason to come out alive.

[riotwritesthings]

Melt into Me (Your Words Are My Own)

WinterIron, E, 18k, Heavy casual praise kink, pining, non-graphic injury, self care is big sexy | AO3

Remember when I said this prompt for WinterIronMonth got way out of hand? I was young and naive. It’s a monster. Here it is I’m super proud of it. 

This fic, like lots of other fic, is all Stella’s fault. Everyone say thank you. And an extra big thank you for the idea, and the title, and in general letting me whine about this fic at you all the way through. You are truly a treasure.

-

Bucky has a new strategy for getting Tony to take proper human care of himself. Tony has never been so well fed, hydrated, thoroughly rested, and confused in all his life.  

That doesn’t mean he wants it to stop, and it’s amazing how many boring adult things Bucky can get him to do just by patting his head and calling him ‘good boy’. Right up until Tony possibly ruins everything.

-

“Did you actually go to medical before coming down here?” Bucky asks as he walks into the lab. He fixes Tony with an expectant stare, looking freshly showered and gorgeous and-

Tony viciously shoves down that line of thought, instead holds up his arm and shows off the neat line of stitches on his forearm “I did,” he says smugly, “and you can tell, because these are much neater than when I do it myself.”

“Your stitches are terrible, I’ve seen literal evil scientists with better needlework than you,” Bucky says agreeably, stepping close to inspect Tony’s arm before giving a satisfied nod.

“That’s hurtful,” Tony says, dropping his arm and turning back to his worktable before he does something stupid like lean in and try to get a big whif of the shampoo Bucky uses. “Now where’s my treat, that was the deal, I went and let the ‘professionals’ sew me up and you better not be backing out on your end of the deal, or-“ Tony cuts off when a ziplock bag of homemade cookies lands on the table in front of him, straight from Bucky’s secret stash that no one has been able to find. “Yay,” he says gleefully, ripping into the bag.

Bucky’s hand is suddenly resting on top of his head, gently ruffling it, and Tony is uncomfortably aware of the fact that his hair is a sweaty mess because he may have gotten distracted on the way to his post-battle shower. Then Bucky pats his head and coos “yeah, tha’s a good boy.” His voice is equal parts teasing and amused, maybe a hint of condescension and underneath it all a fond warmth, like he really is pleased Tony dragged his pitiful human ass to medical after a relatively routine fight.

Tony flushes hot, nearly chokes on his giant mouthful of cookie and the only saving grace is that Bucky has already wandered away to play some kind of elaborate game with the bots. Tony still does not understand the rules of said game, and he wishes he found it less endearing that Bucky refuses to explain it to him.

Okay, so. That... that happened. Tony turns his attention back to the gauntlet he’s trying to repair and tells himself it’s fine, it’s not like it’ll ever happen again. It’s fine.

-

And the thing is, it’s not like Tony meant for it to happen again. It’s not like he was aiming for it. At least... not intentionally.

It’s just that Bucky’s been pestering him about actually remembering to eat lunch at a decent time recently, so when one day Tony actually does remember he decides to rub it in a little. ‘Ate lunch,’ he texts even though it’s silly, it doesn’t even matter and Bucky is only a couple floors up helping Steve rearrange furniture to Natasha’s liking for the millionth time. ‘Don’t see the big deal, but now maybe you’ll leave me alone you big mother hen.’

About half an hour later, Tony is heading to check out the new common room arrangement when Bucky texts him back and he laughs when he sees that it’s just a cookie emoji. Then Bucky adds ‘good boy’ and Tony makes a strangled sound as he walks into the still-opening doors of the elevator.

Tony spins on his heel and punches the door-close button before anyone spots him. Because he really doesn’t need company while he presses his flaming red face against the cool metal wall of the elevator, his heart thumping hard in his chest. Tony firmly tells himself that had not been his intention, and it’s really a good thing he’s so experienced at lying to himself.

-

Tony tracks Bucky down to hand over the fancy new scope he’s just finished, and finds him in the library curled up in an oversized armchair. It’s unfairly adorable, and Bucky’s smile does dangerous things to his heart.

“Thanks doll,” Bucky says, staring up at him instead of inspecting his new toy. When Tony tries to literally wave him off, already turning for the door, Bucky catches him by the wrist and gives a gentle tug until Tony relents and meets his stupid earnest gaze. “I mean it,” Bucky says, “I know how hard you been workin’ on this, thank you.”

Tony sputters, and then makes a couple nonsense noises while something uncurls warm and amazing in his chest. “No worries,” he finally manages and it’s both a relief and a disappointment when Bucky releases his wrist. “Making scopes is my jam. That’s better than the one I just put on Clint’s bow. Don’t tell him.”

“I’m gonna tell ‘im,” Bucky says instantly, smug and grinning and still just staring up at Tony, like he could possibly be more interesting than a digital scope. “I get the best stuff an’ I wanna make sure he knows it.”

“Whatever makes you happy, snowflake,” Tony says, face warm because oh god he’s so obvious, isn’t he? When he turns to enact a manly flee, Bucky lets him go and the sound of his soft, fond laugh follows Tony the rest of the day.

-

It kind of spirals out of control from there. Tony tells himself he doesn’t love it, but even he doesn’t believe himself anymore.

Bucky snatches the coffee cup out of Tony’s hand and replaces it with a glass of water before Tony can even begin to formulate a protest. For a long second all Tony can do is blink in stunned silence because how dare?!

Tony narrows his eyes in a glare, and apparently the twitching of his free hand gives him away because Bucky shifts to hold the mug way up above his head with that wide, gorgeous grin. Tony is pretty sure, if he tried hard enough, he could get that mug back, but it would probably end in both of them covered in water and/or hot coffee. And it would involve a lot of pressing himself against Bucky and attempting to climb him like a tree, which is... probably not a great plan.

So Tony chugs the water, glaring the whole time, and then Bucky hands back his coffee with a quiet “good.” Tony struggles to fight back his blush, can’t at all help the smile that takes over his face, and Bucky just smiles back before continuing on his way.

-

“JARVIS, please wake Bucky up just to inform him that I am pointedly not getting more coffee at three in the morning, and please do it as obnoxiously as possible,” Tony says as he stares into the depths of the fridge, “I’m thinking air sirens. Neon lights.”

There’s a soft, low chuckle from right behind him, and Tony has just enough time to freeze up, his eyes going wide. Then Bucky’s hand is in his once again messy hair, and Bucky’s low, sleep-rough voice is rumbling out “good boy.”

By the time Tony finds his own voice again Bucky has leaned in close against his back to swipe one of Clint’s juice boxes, patted him on the shoulder, and started for the door. “If I’m a good boy then where’s my cookie?” He calls after Bucky’s retreating back, tongue thick and heart racing.

“Good boys go t’ sleep,” Bucky calls back, pointedly, and Tony grumbles all the way to bed.

He sleeps like a fucking baby, wakes up still feeling warm and happy and flushed.

-

"I don't need a brain scan," Tony insists. Again. “My brain is fine. It’s excellent. It is a stunning example of a human brain, ask anyone. Except Bruce, but he’s still just mad that I broke his favorite microscope.”

Bucky continues to stare him down, then lifts his shiny metal hand. "How many fingers am I holdin’ up?" He demands, and Tony would be insulted if he wasn’t having such a hard time focusing.

Tony stares at his hand, counting carefully. "Three," he finally declares, with full confidence.

"That took entirely too long!" Bucky says, dropping his hand again even though it looks like what he really wants to do is just throw both hands in the air and yeah, Tony gets that a lot. "You have a knot the size of a fuckin’ golf ball an’ no offense, but it’s ruinin’ your pretty face. Go get th’ damn scan!"

Tony taps his screwdriver against his chin, eyes on the ceiling, and decides he should probably wait to freak out about the ‘pretty face’ comment later, alone. So for now he turns a sunny smile on Bucky, pointing his screwdriver, and says "no.”

"Please, doll? Do it for me?" Bucky asks, completely shifting tactics, and he even has the gall to pout at Tony. With his blue eyes and red lips. The nerve of it.

Tony holds firm. For about five seconds. "Fine," he sighs, dropping the screwdriver to the table so he can throw both hands in the air himself.

Bucky smiles at him, warm and relieved and something that Tony almost wants to call thankful and Tony has to drop his chin because he can’t deal with that face.

Moving his head so suddenly kind of makes the room spin, and Bucky ends up having to carry him to the medical wing. Bucky also lectures him the whole time, but his hands are so gentle and he stays for the entire thing and Tony finds that he only minds the lectures a little.

-

Tony wakes up from a nap he definitely hadn’t intended to take, still sprawled out on the couch in the common room with Bucky’s fingers still running through his hair. He has no idea how much time has passed but the TV is off and the windows are dark. He appears to have stolen Sam’s blanket, at some point.

He twists his head, still resting on Bucky’s thigh, to fix Bucky with a baleful look and says “I thought I told you I didn’t need a nap.”

“‘S not like I made you fall asleep,” Bucky says, smiling innocently even though he basically did, with his stupid magic hands. Then Bucky’s grin turns into a smirk, voice low as he adds “but don’t you feel better now?”

Tony pouts harder, because he does, and Bucky laughs, continues petting his head until Tony falls right back to sleep.

-

“You do not want me helping you cook,” Tony says with a sputtering laugh, but he steps further into the kitchen anyways, because whatever Bucky is cooking smells amazing. And because it’s Bucky. “I can’t believe you’d ask me to come help you cook. Did JARVIS not tell you how much of a terrible idea that is?”

“Just be good an’ get over here,” Bucky says, and he doesn’t look up from stirring whatever’s in the giant pot but Tony can hear him rolling his eyes.

“I will be no help,” Tony assures him, but steps up to the stove anyways, trying to peek over the rim of the pot. “Is that tomato sauce? Please say yes, and then please don’t let me ruin it.”

Bucky lets out a huff of laughter and turns towards him, wooden spoon outheld, and says “c’mon doll I need a taste tester.” When Tony just blinks at him, Bucky wiggles the spoon a little and says “open up, sweet thing.”

Tony does his best to ignore what that particular choice of words does to him, instead making a big show of checking the spoon for signs of poison or sabotage, humming suspiciously until Bucky gives an impatient huff. Only then does Tony give in, leaning in just a little more to drag his tongue up the flat back of the wooden spoon and then groans happily, because holy shit that is some good sauce. He opens his eyes to tell Bucky so, not sure when they fell closed in the first place, only to find Bucky watching him with an intensity that has Tony’s breath catching in his throat.

“Good?” Bucky asks, like he doesn't already know the answer, and when Tony nods emphatically he grins. “See,” he says, voice suddenly gone low and deep, not looking away from Tony even as he returns to stirring the pot, “you can be good an’ helpful, knew you could babydoll.”

Bucky finally turns back to the stove, just in the nick of time because there’s not a damn thing Tony can do about the warmth spreading across his cheeks, unfurling in his chest. “Yes, very helpful,” Tony says with a dry laugh, “what would you do without me here to lick things?”

Bucky’s eyes flick over to him, lids lowered in a way that is giving Tony ideas, and his lips quirk up and as he says “have to lick things myself I guess, an’ where’s the fun in that?” Tony barks out a startled laugh, face heating, and Bucky grins down at the pot. “Gonna stay and eat with me, right?” He asks pointedly, like he’s just daring Tony to say no.

Tony pretends like he actually has to think about it, making considering noises and dragging his eyes away from the smug curve of Bucky’s lips. “Do I get a treat afterwards?” He asks obnoxiously, giving Bucky a little nudge with his elbow.

“Mmhmm,” Bucky hums, gaze shifting over to him again. Tony can feel his pulse in his fingertips in the best possible way and he has to bite his lip so he won’t start blurting out suggestions. Bucky’s eyes flick down, just for a second, and then he says “go get some plates.”

So they eat dinner, and Bucky demands to know all of Tony’s greatest cooking disasters and yeah he laughs his ass off but he also keeps giving Tony these wide, warm smiles, and Tony finds that he really doesn’t mind. He’d tell Bucky every embarrassing thing he’s ever done if he gets to hear that laugh. And he’s done a lot.

When Tony starts shoving his empty plate across the table, knocking it into Bucky’s obnoxiously, Bucky just laughs and goes to rummage around in the pantry. Which is a foolish move, because now Tony knows his secret sweets stash is in fact somewhere in the pantry. Which is more than anyone else knows.

Bucky returns with a chocolate and peanut butter cookie roughly half the size of Tony’s face, and then watches him eat it with an unfairly intense stare. Bucky barely glances down at his own plate as he devours a second, and then a third helping of food, just watches Tony eat the cookie that he’s starting to suspect Bucky has been saving just for him. Like there’s nothing he’d rather be doing in the world, nothing more interesting than watching Tony make a mess of himself with baked goods, licking smears of chocolate off his fingers.

The heat in Tony’s gut is battling for attention with the warmth in his chest, and he can’t do much more than stare back. He barely even remembers the walk to the elevator after Bucky firmly suggests he should get some sleep once in a while, the weight of Bucky’s eyes on his shoulders all the way down the hallway.

He falls asleep thinking the word ‘ravenous’ and wakes up panting, stuck to his sheets and aching.

-

Bucky walks into the room, and Tony switches from eating his breakfast like a normal, rational person, to eating it pointedly, fork scraping across his plate, loud chewing, the works.

Bucky just smiles, big and genuine, says “look at you, feedin’ yourself, I’m so proud,” like he really means it. Tony swallows thickly, heart thundering in his chest and an addictive warmth spreading through him. That still doesn’t mean he lets Bucky get away with trying to steal his bacon, though.

And okay yeah, Tony feels a little bad, if he stops to let himself think about it. Feels like a bit of a creep, but only a little. Because it’s not like Bucky knows that every tiny nice thing he says goes straight to Tony’s head. And his heart. And also a little bit to his dick. Just like Bucky doesn’t know that Tony has had a big useless crush on him for like a year now and really, what’s one more secret?

And besides, unless Tony is actually as out-of-touch as some people like to accuse him of being, it almost seems like Bucky is happier too. Like for some reason he actually likes keeping Tony alive and functional, and really, who would Tony be if he took that away? If Bucky gets some sense of accomplishment out of forcing Tony to get three square meals and eight-ish hours of sleep, then who is Tony to deny him?

It’s just one more tiny little secret.

-

Tony barely manages not to audibly sigh in relief as the reporter who’s been hounding him gets distracted by some kind of commotion over by the catering table and hurries away, lest he miss the story. Tony’s smile doesn’t slip, because he’s a pro, but it’s difficult. Tony loves his mother’s charity, he really does, it’s the only gala he doesn’t have to be convinced to go to, but he really wishes people wouldn’t ruin it by insisting on asking about Howard.

If Tony has to grit his teeth one more time and say that Howard was a ‘great man’ (debatable) or that he ‘always supported Maria in her causes’ (outright lie), then he’s going to snap and do something drastic. Like go raid the entire bar. Or cry.

“You don’t have t’ put up with that,” comes a voice from right beside him, and Tony jumps hard even though he’d know that voice anywhere. Apparently, Tony is even more tense than he’d realized, and the concerned look on Bucky’s face means he’s probably noticed too.

“I’m going to put a bell on you, almost gave me a heart attack,” Tony grumbles, clutching one hand to his chest and hoping like hell that they can just not talk about it.

Bucky hums thoughtfully, then grins and says “Sneakin’ with a bell, sounds like a fun challenge.”

“That is not the point of the bell,” Tony says seriously, pointing at him, and not letting his eyes drag down the line of Bucky’s body, no matter how much he wants to. No matter how good Bucky’s legs look in a well-fitted suit.

“I mean it,” Bucky says, smiling dimming a little, and so much for Tony’s attempts to deflect, “you know you don’t have to put up with that, right?”

“What?” Tony asks blankly, even though he doesn’t know why he bothers, he never gets away with playing dumb. Sure enough, Bucky fixes him with a flat look until Tony sighs and says “Yes, I kind of do.”

“No,” Bucky says, so firm and urgent that Tony is a little taken aback, catching Tony gently by the elbow when he tries to turn, tries to look for a distraction. “Maybe you have to be here, an’ maybe you have to play nice, but you don’t have t’ answer anythin’ you don’t wanna. And you especially don’ have to talk about him.”

Tony doesn’t know what he feels at this point, some mix of frozen and warm and fuzzy, flushed hot while ice runs through his veins, and he kind of can’t believe that Bucky has been watching him that closely-

“I don’t?” He asks and hates how weak his voice comes out, how unsure, but he’s been talking up Howard at these stupid things for as long as he can remember, it’s second nature, and no one has ever told him that he doesn’t have to in his his entire life-

“No, Tony,” Bucky says and his voice has gone soft too, rough and a little sad and he smiles crookedly as he adds “jus’ tell ‘em to fuck off if they keep tryin’.”

“Well I definitely can’t do that,” Tony huffs. Bucky’s fingers are still holding him so gently, thumb dragging over the inside of his elbow, making Tony shiver just as much as holding him standing.

“You’ll figure it out,” Bucky says, smiling a little wider again and tapping his thumb against Tony’s pulse through his sleeve, “you got that way with words, sweet talker, ‘m sure you’ll come up with somethin’.”

“You’re the sweet talker,” Tony grumbles, and Bucky laughs softly.

Not even half an hour later the same damn reporter corners him as he steps off the stage after his speech, asking the same damn questions, and Tony hesitates. Then he decides fuck it, throws out all his prepared responses, slaps on his sharpest smile and bites out “I’m not going to talk about that anymore.”

The reporter actually looks a little thrown for a second, then visibly steels his nerve and says “People just want to know what it was like growing up with-“

“No,” Tony says, smiling wider, sharper, “I’ve already answered that question what must be a million times by now, how about you go dig up one of those stories and republish that. I’m sure it’ll be better written that way, anyways.” The reporter is still sputtering as Tony turns and walks away, slips into a side hallway to pat himself on the back and maybe panic-breathe, just a little.

He’s barely slumped back against the wall before Bucky is right in front of him, breathing out “Oh, Tony.”

“Seriously, a bell, a big one,” Tony repeats, smile only a little wobbly as he drags his eyes up to meet Bucky’s, and then can’t help blurting out “Did I- was that... okay?”

“Perfect,” Bucky says instantly, jolting forward and then stopping, like he’d been about to pull Tony in for a hug before thinking better of it. Which is too bad, Tony could really go for a hug right now but it’s almost just as good when Bucky says “That was perfect, you did so good sweet thing, don’t you feel better now?”

“Yes,” Tony says with a heavy sigh, not even realizing how much he means it until all the tension bleeds out of him and before he can stop himself Tony is leaning forward to thump his forehead against Bucky’s chest, letting his eyes fall closed and breathing in the comforting, earthy smell of Bucky’s cologne. He just can’t take the warmth and open pride in Bucky’s gaze anymore, not without running the very serious risk of turning to a useless puddle of mush.

Of course, then Bucky’s right hand lands warm and gentle on the back of Tony’s head, wide palm cradling his skull easily and thumb stroking down the line of his neck, the other hand curled around Tony’s shoulder and pulling him a little closer. “So proud’a you, Tony, did so good, knew you could do it doll,” Bucky says softly, speaking directly against the top of Tony’s head while his fingers slide through Tony’s hair.

“I’ve told off reporters before,” Tony huffs, even though he doesn’t know why he bothers, Bucky apparently sees right through him, “I do it all the time. Did you miss when I snapped at one of them during that last press conference and Steve gave me disappointed face?”

Bucky just hums, taps his metal fingers against the curve of Tony’s shoulder blade. “Yeah,” he finally says, voice barely more than a breath, “For everyone else. Always makin’ sure the rest of th’ team never has to talk about anythin’ they don’t want to the press. Never cut yourself any slack like that, though, do ya?”

Tony’s breath catches in his throat, and how does Bucky do that?! He has no response, no idea what to say, absolutely never expected to be called out. Not on this. When Bucky makes a soft, expectant sound, like he’s actually waiting for an answer, all Tony can do is shake his head a little, careful not to accidentally dislodge Bucky’s hold on him.

“You’re worth it too, ya hear me?” Bucky asks, his hold on Tony tightening ever so slightly, one finger tap tap tapping at the back of Tony’s head until Tony finally huffs and nods. “Good boy,” Bucky says, still so softly, and if he notices the way Tony all but melts against him, at least he doesn’t say anything about it.

-

Tony shuffles down the hallway, frowning at his phone and glancing up every now and then just to make sure he’s not about to run into anyone. Considering he lives in a tower full of spies, soldiers, and other assorted superheroes, they all have surprisingly terrible situational awareness sometimes. And sure, it’s heartwarming that they can all let their guard down, at least a little, but he’s also a little tired of people tripping and breaking things because Thor likes to nap in hallways.

When he glances up and spots Bucky in his path, he steps to the side and barely has time for a “Hey frosty, Clint was looking for you. He was also holding a water gun, so I’d be careful.” After a quick grin Tony returns to squinting at his phone, and therefore does not see it coming at all when Bucky gently grabs his elbow and halts him in his tracks.

“Hey, you okay?” Bucky asks, an adorable little concerned wrinkle between his eyebrows. He also lets go of Tony’s arm, which is a shame.

Tony blinks, then glances down at himself. He’s not sure what gave Bucky the impression that something is wrong, if it was the stained and hole-littered jeans, the wrinkled shirt, or the fact that Tony apparently lost one of his socks somewhere. Huh.

“Yeah, fine,” Tony says and waves his phone a little, “just got a lot to do. You know how it is. Every day I receive emails, so on and so forth.”

“You got a headache?” Bucky asks, randomly, even though Tony does. It’s pounding right behind his eyes, and all along his temple, and throbbing in time with his heartbeat. All in all, it’s a high quality headache.

“No,” Tony says anyways, because he has things to do, and Bucky is making ‘go take a nap’ face at him. It’s a very specific face. “My head feels awesome, better than awesome, I gotta get down to the lab, so, you better be getting on with your water gun fight. Watch the furniture.”

Tony tries to step away again, before Bucky can guilt him into not working, but Bucky snaps a hand out and catches him by the belt loop on his hip. It’s everything Tony can do not to swallow his tongue.

“What you gotta do is take a break,” Bucky says firmly, and Tony is opening his mouth to ask if that means he’s invited to the water gun fight, but Bucky apparently sees it coming and cuts him off. “Go take a nap, Tony.”

“I don’t want a nap,” Tony whines petulantly and braces his bare foot against the ground, leans against Bucky’s hold and trusts him not to actually let go as Tony pouts at him.

“Then at least go lay down,” Bucky says, heartlessly. When Tony just pouts at him harder Bucky rolls his eyes with a soft huff and says “Do it an’ I’ll bring you somethin’ to drink.” When Tony opens his mouth Bucky immediately adds “not coffee.”

Tony gasps in horror, but Bucky remains unswayed. “Fine, hot chocolate,” he demands, leaning a little harder despite the way his worn jeans are gaping at the waist and more than likely to rip at any second.

Bucky considers, eyes dragging down Tony’s chest and probably counting the grease stains on his shirt, and finally says “Water an’ then hot chocolate.”

“Fine, I will go to my room and await my beverage delivery,” Tony says, already running mental calculations on exactly how long he has to run to the lab and grab his tablet then stash it somewhere before Bucky catches him.

“You goin’ straight to your room?” Bucky asks, one eyebrow raised, and damnit how does he do that?! Tony is seriously considering

Tony groans, then gives what Rhodey has assured him is the worst salute humanly possible as he says “Sir yes sir, Sargent Tastee-Freeze.”

Bucky grins with lots of teeth and tugs at Tony’s belt loop to pull him back upright again as he says “Good boy.”

Tony goes straight to his room, and Bucky’s smile when he finds Tony already curled up under a blanket with the lights in the room down low is totally worth it. The amazing hot chocolate is just a bonus.

-

“Tony,” Bucky says, voice frantic, “Tony, you gotta stay awake.”

“Hurts,” Tony complains, just in case Bucky hasn’t noticed that he’s bleeding out here. And he’s supposed to be the observant one.

“I know, I know it does,” Bucky says and his fingers are shaking as he brushes Tony’s hair off of his forehead. His other hand is incredibly steady as it presses a crumpled jacket to Tony’s bleeding stomach, making him groan pitifully. “You gotta stay awake for me, doll, jus’ stay awake.”

“Wanna sleep,” Tony says petulantly, because that sounds way better than being awake for all this agony. His eyelids are already fluttering shut and he’s not worried about the asshole that shot him, if Bucky is here then there’s nothing to worry about. Tony is pretty sure Natasha was around here too somewhere, but it’s surprisingly hard to remember.

“No no no, wake up,” Bucky says, voice cracking, and maybe there is something to worry about, if Bucky sounds that upset. Tony wonders what it is. “C’mon, wake up for me sweetheart, be a good boy and just- jus’ open your eyes.”

“Good?” Tony slurs out and cracks one eye open, just enough to see that Bucky’s face is wet and if Tony didn’t know better he’d think Bucky was crying.

“Yeah Tony,” Bucky says with a smile that’s entirely too shaky, sounding entirely too desperate, “jus’ be good and stay awake for me, give you all the fuckin’ cookies you want, give you anything.” His hand is on Tony’s cheek again, fingers so warm, and when Tony’s eyes start to fall closed again Bucky gives him the slightest of shakes and says “Hey, hey, c’mon doll, don’t you got some demands for me? Gotta stay awake to tell me what you want, baby.”

“Wanna be good,” Tony manages to croak out, struggling to get his stubborn eyes to open and actually focus. He almost wishes he hadn’t, because there’s something horribly stricken about Bucky’s expression, something startled and scared and it drags a pained noise out of Tony’s chest that has nothing to do with the blood pooling below him.

“Yeah?” Bucky asks after a pause and he’s shaking all over now, everywhere but his metal hand still pressed firm and agonizing over the bullet holes in Tony’s stomach. “Wanna be good for me, you gotta stay awake until the paramedics get here, can you do that sweet thing?”

“Gross, hate them,” Tony says, and Bucky’s laugh sounds more like a choked sob. Tony flails one hand up until he can grab weakly at Bucky’s shirt. “‘Kay, stayin’ awake,” he says and decides to not mention that he can taste blood with each word, instead tugging at Bucky’s shirt a little as he slurs out “just cuz y’re a worrier.”

“That’s real sweet of ya, darlin’,” Bucky says and at least his laugh sounds a little less ragged, a little less like it’s being dragged out of him.

Everything goes a little fuzzy after that, but Tony doesn’t let go of his grip on Bucky’s shirt until the EMTs start heartlessly cutting into his nice suit. Bucky doesn’t let go for even longer.

 -

Tony did something wrong. He doesn't know what, but he knows he did something. Which is just, Classic Tony.

Except he does know, he knows exactly what he did and the knowledge sits in his stomach like a weight. He made it weird. He hasn't seen Bucky since he woke up in the hospital. Not really. Because Tony made it weird.

He’s not even sure what he did, exactly, except possibly everything. He’s got this huge sad crush on Bucky, sure, but he’s had that for ages now, and Tony is dealing with it. He’s dealing with it fine. And okay sure, maybe Tony has been acting like a bit of a creep about it, lately, getting all warm and fuzzy and tingly anytime Bucky does something nice for him. Which Bucky does all the time, because he’s a nice person.

And now Tony has scared him off, somehow, between bleeding out mid-press conference and being discharged from the hospital. Painkiller-Tony probably said something to give himself away, that loopy bastard has no filter.

But Tony tells himself it’s fine. It’s fine. Maybe he’ll finally get over this stupid, useless crush now. It’s not like he feels cold and lonely without Bucky’s constant hovering, or anything. It’s not like the fact that Bucky will barely look at him hurts more than the multiple lines of stitches in his stomach, or anything.

It’s fine.

-

He shuffles slow and careful into the kitchen at stupid-o-clock in the morning, after his second (third?) night without sleep, and there’s no super soldier laying in wait to snatch away his coffee. And force feed him an obscene stack of pancakes. And bitch at him for not sleeping enough when he’s technically still recovering from his unintended run-in with multiple bullets.

The best he gets is Natasha telling him he looks like a zombie and throwing an apple at his head, which really just doesn’t have the same charm. Even if she does do it gently, while giving him concerned eyes.

So Tony gets his coffee, takes his apple, goes back to the lab and wakes up later that day with everything aching because he passed out sprawled across a worktable again. His back is sore and he’s hungry and his stitches burn from being hunched over for hours.

But it’s fine. Tony is fine, he’s an adult, he’s been barely-taking-care-of himself for years. It’s fine.

-

Bucky is still around, is the thing, he still cracks dry jokes at Steve’s expense and hoards all the blankets on movie nights.

He still wanders down to the lab to play with the bots, but it’s not as often. Not that Tony has made charts, or anything, just to prove to himself that it’s not all in his head. He brings down plates of food, also less often, and doesn’t stick around to make sure Tony eats them. Tony never plans to, plans to shove the food away for a proper pout, but after the third time he finds himself finishing off the plate and halfway through texting Bucky about it before realizing better, Tony gives up. He switches to just eating as soon as Bucky leaves the lab, and he doesn’t even have to lie to himself that it’s just a different form of pouting.

When Tony tracks him down to hand over some new body armor, Bucky still thanks him with entirely too much sincerity, like he still doesn’t realize that this is just what Tony does. It still makes Tony’s heart lurch and his stomach swoop and his face heat, but when Tony goes to run away because he still doesn’t know how to deal with that, Bucky doesn’t stop him.

Bucky still watches his back in every fight and suggests weird sci-fi books, still leaves leftovers with Tony’s name on them in the fridge just like he always has. Tony still has his friend, is the thing, and when he tells himself that’s all he’d ever expected it’s not even a lie.

-

JARVIS is the one to gently remind him when it’s time to have his stitches removed, Tony is nearly overwhelmed by the sudden urge to cry. Because he can’t remember the last time Bucky wasn’t the one dragging him down to medical for boring things like follow up appointments, bribing him with baked goods and smiling all the while.

Tony is tempted to just remove them himself, he’s so tempted. Because it’s not like he can’t, it’s what he used to do before Bucky started his whole ‘aggressive mother hen’ routine. He even has the tiny scissors in hand, sterilized and everything, but he can’t stop picturing that sad little twist to Bucky’s lips, the way his eyes go wet and pained when he catches Tony doing his own first aid. And Tony can’t even lie to himself that Bucky doesn’t care anymore, because they’re still friends, it’s not like Tony can exactly blame him for needing space now that he almost definitely knows Tony has feelings.

Eventually Tony throws down the scissors so aggressively that DUM-E makes concerned beeping noises at him, and he definitely gets some weird looks when he stomps into medical grumpy and painfully alone. No one asks any questions about it though, about the sudden Bucky-shaped hole in his side, and Tony wonders just how miserable he must look.

-

He nearly runs straight into Bucky in the hallway at something-past-midnight, and it’s all Tony can do to not spill his extra large mug of coffee all over both of them.

“You give me one more heart attack and I’m actually putting that bell on you,” Tony threatens, clutching his mug close to his chest even though odds are pretty good Bucky isn’t going to try and take it from him anymore.

Sure enough, Bucky only makes sad-eyes at his coffee for about two seconds, then drags his eyes up to Tony’s face and says “Just make sure they sound extra Christmas-y, to fit with my whole ‘winter’ vibe.”

Tony laughs and tells himself that this is fine. He still has a friend, still gets to enjoy Bucky’s weird sense of humor, still gets to see him around in the common rooms and that’s plenty, it’s fine. He almost manages to believe it. “Christmas anti-stealth bells, your wish is my command,” Tony says, nodding seriously. And then he raises his coffee to his lips and takes an obnoxiously loud sip, doesn’t know why he does it except that he absolutely does, stupidly trying to bait Bucky into snatching it away from him, insisting Tony take it easy, get some sleep some time this week, something.

All Bucky does is make sadder-eyes at him, which is not what Tony had been going for now he feels terrible. Bucky opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, then shuts it again, and honestly that’s worse than the way Tony’s stomach still throbs dully anytime he laughs, it’s an aching hurt that settles deep in his chest and makes it hard to breathe.

“Well, I better get on it,” Tony says and takes a shuffling step back because he doesn't know what else to do, he doesn’t know how to fix this. He’s tried to stop having this big stupid crush, fuck has he tried, but he can’t. It just gets worse and Tony is starting to think he’s never getting over it, just one more chronic ache he’ll never shake.

Tony needs to go, he needs to get out of here and go put himself back together so he can stop doing this to himself. But when he turns too quickly it sends a sharp pain lancing through his gut and Tony can’t quite stop the hiss that slips out of him. He doesn’t stop moving though, just pushes through and keeps his steps as carefully measured as he can, even when Bucky makes a soft, wounded noise that sounds like he’s trying to swallow it down.

Bucky doesn’t actually say anything though, and soon enough Tony is alone in his room holding a mug of coffee he’s just now realizing he doesn’t even want. He dumps it out in the sink, crawls into bed for another good pout and ends up falling asleep for eight hours.

-

So Tony keeps feeding himself and getting a good night’s sleep every so often. He even waits until he’s officially cleared by the doctors to start demanding to be let back into the field and he drinks the occasional glass of water. He keeps doing all those things even after he stops hoping Bucky will ruffle his hair and call him a ‘good boy’ in that tone that’s somehow the perfect mix of fond and amused and bossy and maybe just a little condescending.

Because they’re still friends, and Tony doesn’t want to ruin that too. He doesn't want to keep making Bucky make sad-eyes at him across the lab when he catches Tony chewing on coffee beans to keep himself awake, holding a half-melted ice pack to his face and squinting at his screens.

So maybe Tony has a big sad crush, and maybe Bucky figured that out somehow. Probably the fact that Tony got inappropriately tingly when Bucky treated him like a particularly stupid house pet, because Bucky has completely stopped. Tony is not letting himself think about how much he misses it, because that’s not the point.

The point is that they’re friends, and if it makes Bucky sad when his friends can’t take basic human care of themselves, well the least Tony can do is try to do better. It was just a lot easier when he could look forward to Bucky patting his head and calling him ‘good’ in that way that sent heat spiraling through Tony’s entire body.

But whatever. Tony manages.

-

“We should order pizza,” Tony announces, marching into the common room and nearly shouting to be heard over what appears to be half the team heckling a baking show.

“Are you trying to start another screaming match?” Steve demands, giving him a horrified look, “this tower cannot agree on pizza toppings, we’ve learned this.”

“I’ll just order everyone their own, no screaming, no problem,” Tony says dismissively, “I just finished with an all-day meeting that could have lasted an hour tops and I’m starving and the only thing that can make it better is pizza.” He ends his declaration with a whine and a little stomp of his foot, and tells himself that the sound of Bucky’s quiet laugh doesn’t make his chest warm. He needs to get better at lying to himself.

“But then I still have to see the abomination Clint calls a pizza, and how am I supposed to eat like that?” Sam demands, shooting a look at Clint who’s already half on-top of his arm chair and drawing in a huge breath to no doubt shout his rebuttal.

“I’m still going to do it,” Tony says gleefully, drowned out by the onslaught of yelling and already pulling out his phone.

“Are you happy now?” Steve demands as Sam and Clint start whipping throw pillows across the room at each other while Bucky laughs, egging them on and tossing Clint more ammo.

And yeah, Tony kind of is.

-

Someone walks into the workshop and Tony’s head snaps up, but it’s just Clint. Tony is not disappointed.

“Stop giving me that look,” Clint says, pointing one finger at Tony’s face. “Bucky wanted me to come down here and remind you to go to medical. He also told me not to tell you he told me to, but I’ve conveniently forgotten that part.”

“Convenient for who?” Tony asks with a huff of laughter, and ignores the way it makes his stupid heart feel all warm that Bucky still worries, at least, even if he doesn’t actually want to come down and face Tony’s crush himself. It’s still something.

Clint ignores him in favor of poking at the things scattered across the worktables, never mind that most of it is weaponry of some kind, and when Tony throws a screwdriver at him Clint spins around with an unimpressed look. “What’s up with you two, anyways? You’re being weirder than normal,” he demands, throwing the screwdriver back.

“Go tell him I’ve already been,” Tony says, barely managing to catch the tool before it hits him in the face, “my stomach is fine, they just taped up my ribs and gave me a tetanus shot. Tetanus!” And no, for the record, Tony had not spent the entire time thinking about how Bucky probably would have let Tony hold his hand, if he’d been there.

“Go tell him yourself, you incredible idiot,” Clint says, and then starts poking at dangerous things until Tony kicks him out of the lab.

-

“Why are you up before noon and looking like you actually slept?” Video-call-Rhodey demands, narrowing his eyes suspiciously, “who are you and what have you done with Tony?”

“Fuck you, platypus,” Tony says pleasantly, “that’s hurtful, I know how to adult.” The look Rhodey fixes him with in return is so unimpressed Tony’s can feel it in his soul, even through the screen.

“I have known you for years,” Rhodey says slowly, “and I can emphatically say that no, you do not, and- Are you drinking water?”

“What? No,” Tony says, lowering his glass of water back out of frame. Rhodey continues to stare him down, and Tony just stares back, because there is no way they’re getting into this. Tony wouldn’t even know where to start, at this point.

He passes Bucky as he turns the corner towards the elevator, and Tony really wishes he had the time to ask what Bucky is grinning so wide about. As it is he has a meeting with Pepper to get to and best-friend-questions to avoid.

-

“You know what Steve,” Tony snaps, because he can’t take it anymore. He’s exhausted, he’s sore, he has a ton of work to do and he’s tired of being yelled at for shit that’s not his fault. He’s also tired of the sad look Bucky is giving him, like he thinks Tony can’t see him, like he thinks Tony doesn’t know that he doesn’t deserve this.

Steve actually falters, words trailing off as he blinks at Tony because yeah, Tony usually calls him ‘Rogers’ when he’s pissed, or at least ‘Cap’. And yeah it’s one of Tony’s favorite ways of distancing himself, what of it? He can feel Bucky’s stare like a physical weight on his chest, he’s frustrated enough with himself as it is, and Tony doesn’t want distance.

“I’m not a magician, okay,” Tony grits out, doesn’t snap it, keeps his voice even and clenches his fists to keep them from shaking, “hacking an encrypted system takes time, and it takes processing power. Processing power that is limited when I’m also using it to pilot the armor, so yeah, I hacked it as quick as I could, and if that’s not good enough then I don’t know what to tell you.”

Steve gapes at him for a second, eyes wide and mouth hanging open and Tony really wishes he could feel better about accomplishing that right now. “Oh,” Steve finally says, and Tony can’t help but notice that the debrief room has suddenly cleared out around them. “I- I didn’t-“

This is usually the part where Tony would jump on that moment of hesitation, tack on a couple barbs to easily push Steve from thrown-off to angry. It’s surprisingly easy, Tony has practically made an art form out of it. Because Tony is so much better at knowing what to do with people when they’re mad at him. But right now, Tony is tired, and he really needs a shower, and he really needs to get down to the lab and figure out how to up the power in the suit, make sure he doesn’t get caught unprepared again.

And yeah, Tony can still feel Bucky staring at him, and Tony doesn’t know how much longer he can stand it without breaking down and doing something ridiculous. Like demanding a hug. Or to have his head patted, or for reassurance that he did okay. And Tony doesn’t get that anymore, never should have had it in the first place, so he just turns and leaves.

Tony has nearly made his escape, and he’s managing to keep it together, right up until he catches sight of Buck’s face. Tony has spent a lot of time cataloging away all of Bucky’s expressions, telling himself the entire time that he’s not a creepy obsessed weirdo, and he’s never seen that face before. Some mix of happy and surprised and proud, and a hundred other things that Tony still hasn’t been able to figure out how to deal with. Seeing it less often apparently doesn’t stop Tony’s heart from lurching dangerously at the sight of that warm smile, doesn’t stop his stomach from working itself into a tight, heated knot.

No one follows after him, and after turning a couple corners blindly Tony finally lets himself slump back against a wall, just for a second. Just to try and catch his breath, try to fight down the warmth rising stubbornly in his chest.

-

Tony likes doing his test flights of the suits around dusk, when he can help it. He likes watching night fall over the city, likes watching the colors of the sunset give way to the bright lights that come to life in every window.

When he finally heads back for the tower he aims for the roof, figuring he’ll have the suit drop him off and then take itself down to the workshop to start running diagnostics on the new settings without him. It’ll take a while anyways, and Tony hasn’t had dinner yet. And for some reason, all of Tony’s friends seem weirdly invested in his eating habits and are weirdly thrilled when he remembers to do it. Tony is even doing a better job lately of convincing himself there’s not one friend in particular he’s trying to thrill.

Once the armor zips off towards the entrance on the workshop level the roof is dark, and Tony very nearly trips over Bucky on his way to the door. He makes an embarrassing squeaking noise but manages to keep his balance, only wincing a little as his toes throb because fuck what is Bucky’s shin made of?!

“Woah, shit, excellent lurking there, Frosty, truly A+ work,” Tony says, clutching at his chest, and he’s about to re-suggest his whole ‘put a bell on you’ plan when Bucky actually drags his eyes up from the ground to fix on Tony instead.

Bucky looks terrible. Which of course means he’s still one of the most gorgeous people Tony has ever seen, but the dark circles under his eyes hit Tony like a blow to the chest. Bucky’s hair is a mess, lines around his eyes deep and pronounced and he looks tired in a way that seeps straight down into your bones, eats you alive. Tony knows that feeling all too well, but he has no idea what to say in the face of it.

He doesn’t need to ask if Bucky is having a rough couple of days, it’s painfully obvious, and he knows Bucky isn’t going to talk about it if he doesn’t want to. And he very rarely wants to. It would certainly explain why Steve was looking for him yesterday, if Bucky has been hiding out avoiding everyone, which probably means that Bucky has been sitting out here on the roof for who knows how long and will continue sitting out here until he feels like a person again.

The fact that Bucky doesn’t say anything, doesn’t uncurl from his protective huddle against the wall, just stares up at Tony with shadowed eyes, means that he’s definitely not there yet. He barely even twitches when Tony’s stomach growls loudly, just raises one eyebrow slightly even though Tony is pretty sure that was loud enough for people down on the street to hear.

“I’m on my way right now!” Tony defends before Bucky can start making sad face at him, because that is probably the last thing Bucky needs right now, to be worrying that Tony is somehow going to starve to death without constant supervision. Bucky’s lip twitches in the barest hint of a smile, and Tony is absolutely going to count that as a win.

He’s about to leave, head inside and leave Bucky alone to his rooftop creeping, but then something occurs to him. If Bucky has been hiding out away from everyone, it stands to reason that he hasn’t been to the kitchen for food recently. There’s always someone in the kitchen. Tony hesitates for a second, and then decides fuck it. They’re friends, and fair is fair.

“Come on Snowflake,” he says firmly, no room for arguments, and holds out one hand for Bucky to take. “I’ll make you one of my specialties. Do you want a lumpy sandwich, or cold cereal?”

Bucky’s lips twitch ever so slightly further up as he takes Tony’s hand and pulls himself to his feet, and Tony is going to call that a resounding fucking victory.

-

Bucky loves sci-fi. Even worse, he loves cheesy, horrible sci-fi, and he gets a particular kick out of movies that are so inaccurate they send Bruce and sometimes even Tony into fits of rage.

It’s a serious problem, because Tony loves that Bucky loves shitty sci-fi. It’s hopelessly endearing, and Tony is pretty sure it’s only a matter of time before he full on breaks down crying at the entirely-too-adorable sight of Bucky on the couch amid a mountain of blankets, happily humming along to the Stargate Atlantis theme song. Tony is only human, okay? He’s just trying to head back to the lab with his lunch and there’s only so much he can reasonably be expected to withstand.

It’s also a problem in that Bucky tends to get caught up in binge watching something and forget about things like sleeping, or the ever important feeding his super appetite. Which Tony gets, he really does, he is no stranger to getting wrapped up in something and forgetting everything else, so instead of suggesting Bucky take a break from his marathon at least long enough to get food, Tony just shoves his own plate into Bucky’s lap and leaves his glass of water on the coffee table with a pointed look.

Then he heads back to the kitchen to make another sandwich for himself, waving off Bucky’s stuttered, surprised-sounding thanks and refusing to let himself look back.

It kind of spirals out of control from there.

-

Tony sticks his head into the gym where, sure enough, Bucky and Steve are still having their stupid push up competition.

“Let’s wrap it up boys, it’s dinner time,” he calls, and then rolls his eyes when they don’t react at all. “Seriously, you’re both impressive, you both win beefiest belle at the ball, you can punch it out later,” Tony adds as he wanders closer, “Let’s go before Thor eats everything and then comes down here to show you both up.”

“Five minutes,” Steve huffs out between push ups, “He’s about to give up.”

“Like hell,” Bucky grumbles and does his next rep one handed so he can swat at Steve. It’s unfairly distracting.

“I’m evicting both of you,” Tony says pleasantly, “Just like I threatened everyone else with eviction until they gave in and agreed to order from that Korean-Mexican fusion place you’re both so obsessed with.”

“What?!” Steve demands, pushing himself upright on his knees to fix Tony with an affronted look, “why didn’t you say that?”

“Ha! I win!” Bucky says, still doing push ups and grinning at Steve smugly.

Steve looks so horribly offended for a second that Tony can’t help snorting in laughter. Then Steve grins wickedly, shoves Bucky over, and makes a break for the door calling “I’m gonna eat all your food, then we’ll see who wins!”

“Still a sore loser,” Bucky says with a sad shake of his head, pushing himself to his feet. A couple strands of loose hair cling to his forehead and fall around his face, his thin shirt clinging to his chest just right, and Tony’s life would be so much easier if he could just not.

Bucky is staring at him, curious tilt to his head, and Tony belatedly remembers to blurt out “Don’t worry Frosted Flakes, I hid your kimchi tacos at the back of the fridge where no one can get to them. Not that I know why anyone would want to.” The wide grin that breaks out across Bucky’s face still makes Tony’s heart thump dangerously, no matter how many times Tony tries to convince himself that it doesn’t, that it won’t next time. It always does.

“Thanks Tony, you’re the best,” Bucky says, all warm and soft and genuine, bumping their shoulders together gently as he heads for the door. Tony trails after him, face flushed and chest warm, and that was totally worth all the trouble of convincing Bruce that Korean-Mexican fusion is not a crime against humanity.

-

“You need to go lay down,” Tony says for what must be the tenth time since Bucky walked into the lab.

“I’m fine,” Bucky says, again, despite the fact that he is clearly not fine.

Tony waves both hands at Bucky, trying to encompass all of him, the fact that Bucky hasn’t changed or showered since the fight when usually that’s the first thing he does, the way that he’s just kind of standing there letting the bots poke at him instead of chasing them around the lab. “I can hear your spine clicking when you move, and I have normal human ears!” Tony insists.

“No it’s not,” Bucky says, but he’s holding himself suspiciously still. When Tony just stares at him, unimpressed, he adds “it’ll heal.”

“Yeah, if you go lay the fuck down and avoid killing yourself before then,” Tony says, and only barely resists the urge to throw a bolt at him. He’s pretty sure Bucky would just let it hit him in the face right now, and that’s not what Tony is going for. No matter how well it would prove his point.

“No," Bucky says flatly. Tony throws the bolt, and Bucky winces when it bounces off his chest but otherwise refuses to move.

"Then you're going to medical," Tony says, throwing both hands in the air, "I’ll call Steve and he’ll carry you there, don’t think he won’t. He will be delighted to do it."

“I’ll throw ‘im out another window,” Bucky grumbles, and when Tony makes a show of grabbing for his phone Bucky sighs out “fine, fine, I’ll go lay down.”

"Damn straight you will," Tony grumbles under his breath and then blinks in surprise when, instead of heading for the door, maybe back to his room, Bucky slowly makes his way over to the lumpy couch in the corner.

And Tony's not complaining, it absolutely makes sense for Bucky to lay down on the nearest available flat surface, but Tony had really been expecting him to leave. Keep up that friendly distance, and all that. Instead Tony is left just staring dazedly as Bucky lowers him half down onto the couch with a level of care that completely gives away how injured he actually is.

Once Bucky is settled he turns his head where it's propped up on the armrest, only wincing a little, and stares back at Tony. There's something considering in his gaze, and he's probably trying to figure out how long it'll take before Tony gets distracted enough to not notice Bucky making his escape.

After several long seconds of mutual staring, broken only by them both glancing over when DUM-E gets tangled in the blanket he's trying to bring to Bucky and starts beeping in distress, Bucky finally breaks the silence. "Don't I get a cookie?" he asks slowly, innocently, like he has no idea that the reminder sets off an explosion in Tony's chest.

"I already gave you one of my favorite bolts, what more do you want from me?" Tony complains, turning back to his workbench so hopefully Bucky won't notice that his face has no doubt gone bright red.

"Somethin' edible, preferably," Bucky says with a soft laugh that has warmth spreading out from Tony's racing heart and mixing surprisingly well with the sudden influx of butterflies in his stomach.

Tony tells himself that it's fine. They're friends. He's glad that Bucky is comfortable enough to hang out in the lab with him again, making dumb jokes. All Tony has to do is not make it weird. Again. He can totally do that.

He doesn't have any cookies, but Tony does share his terrible energy bars, and when Bucky dares to complain about how terrible they are Tony throws a couple more bolts at him. Injured or not, he can't let that stand.

Eventually Bucky falls asleep, and Tony works as quietly as he can, and it's fine. It’s the closest to fine that Tony has felt in a long time.

-

Bucky’s nose scrunches up a little in disgust, but he doesn’t say anything. No one else seems to notice, arguing over their exact dinner order like it’s a life or death ordeal. They are all usually armed, in some way, so hell it might be life or death.

Tony slumps a little lower in his armchair, just enough that he can stretch out and kick Bucky lightly in the foot. When Bucky looks over at him Tony gives him an expectant look. When Bucky continues to stare blankly at him Tony does a little ‘go on’ motion with his head, and then kicks Bucky again. Just for good measure.

Bucky’s eyes widen, just a little, and then he blurts out “I hate sushi.” Everyone stops to stare at him, and Tony grins widely.

“What? Since when?” Sam demands, looking personally offended.

“Since always, it’s raw fish,” Bucky replies, throwing a pillow that bounces harmlessly off Thor’s head when Sam ducks. “Just get me some rice or somethin’, ‘s long as it’s cooked,” he adds and easily swats Sam’s return pillow away from him.

Steve immediately starts reading off other options from the menu, and Tony continues grinning all through the rest of the ordering process. He’s a little surprised when he looks over to find Bucky smiling back at him, something small and strangely delicate, and Tony just hopes his face isn’t as warm as it feels, hopes it doesn’t show that he’s melting inside.

-

Bucky has been giving him this look, lately, and Tony has no idea what it’s supposed to mean. It’s somewhere between surprised and considering, like he’s putting together the pieces of a puzzle he didn’t even know he was looking at. It’s mildly terrifying.

If he didn’t know better, Tony would think Bucky has figured out about his super secret crush, but that can’t be right. Bucky had already figured that out... right? And if that was the case he definitely wouldn’t suddenly be hanging out with Tony more, he’d be running even further away.

Tony is kind of tempted to avoid him, avoid that look entirely, because as long as he doesn’t know what it means it can’t mean anything bad. The problem with that plan, is that Bucky is suddenly everywhere he turns.

He stumbles out of his lab and it’s like Bucky is just laying in wait so he can drag Tony to the kitchen for an impressive lunch spread. And then he hangs out, watches while Tony gorges himself on soup and sandwiches and leftover donuts, and when Tony shoves the last donut towards him Bucky’s thoughtful little smile gets wider.

Tony doesn’t know what to do with that, or what to do with the warmth that lingers in his chest all day, growing something that feels dangerously like hope. Maybe he should give that avoidance plan another shot.

-

He makes it a full day. Mostly by hiding out in his lab the whole time. When he shuffles out, rubbing at his tired eyes and aching everywhere, Bucky is there before he makes it ten steps out of the elevator onto the common floor.

“What have I told you about sleeping?’ Bucky asks with an exasperated sigh that does not at all take away from the smile tugging at the corners of his lips, both hands coming down on Tony’s shoulders to stop him in his tracks. “And don’t say ‘it’s for the weak’, or I swear...”

Tony hums thoughtfully, then grins up at Bucky, who is standing so very close. If Tony were less sleep deprived he’d probably be more worried about that, more worries about what he’s giving away as he leans into Bucky’s chest ever so slightly. “Must have escaped my mind,” he finally says, grinning wider when Bucky rolls his eyes.

“I believe it was that you need to sleep, Tony,” Bucky says and uses the hands still on his shoulders to spin Tony in place and point him back towards the elevator. He leaves his hands on Tony’s shoulders, which is probably a good thing because Tony is dimly aware of the fact that he’s swaying in place. “Go on, before your zombie face scares Bruce again,” Bucky adds with a soft laugh.

“That was one time,” Tony protests, digging in his heels as Bucky starts pushing him towards the doors, “and I’m hungry.” The last part comes out nearly as a whine, and Tony doesn’t even try to stop it because this is all Bucky’s fault in the first place. Him and his regular meal schedules, and his insisting that Tony follow them.

“Nuh uh, I know how you are,” Bucky says, giving him another little shove towards the elevator, “you’ll go to the kitchen and then you’ll get distracted and I’ll find you five hours later half asleep and having a staring contest with your reflection.”

“Again, that was one time, and I had been up for days,” Tony says with a huff, then squeaks when the heels of his worn sneakers slip against the floor and Bucky’s grip on his shoulders is the only thing that keeps him from falling on his ass.

“Go get ready for bed, doll,” Bucky says and he’s definitely laughing now, “an’ I’ll bring you somethin’ to eat.”

“I want waffles,” Tony demands petulantly and finally stops leaning back against Bucky’s shoving, starts moving towards the elevator instead.

“Waffles, you got it,” Bucky says, all warm and amused, and his hands finally fall away from Tony’s shoulders. There’s a second where Tony starts to shuffle forward, elevator doors already dinging open, and he hears Bucky start to turn back down the hallway, and then Bucky’s hand lands on his head and Tony freezes in his tracks. He’s not even breathing, just holds himself perfectly still as Bucky ruffles his hair.

When Bucky steps away and his footsteps disappear down the hallway Tony is finally able to drag in a ragged breath and start his forward shuffle again. He spends the entire elevator ride thinking it’s a good thing he’s already half asleep, or he’d be really freaking out right now about what this all means.

Tony is slumped down low on his couch and poking at his phone when Bucky turns up with the promised waffles, but it’s totally worth the wait because the waffles are hot and fluffy and covered with the perfect amount of syrup. After Tony eats them all Bucky smiles at him warmly and says ‘good’, and what’s left of Tony’s poor batted soul feels like its been dipped in warm honey.

Tony doesn’t actually remember falling asleep, and he definitely doesn’t remember Bucky carrying him to bed, but he wakes up later curled under the blankets with his socks still on and oh look at that, he’s awake enough to start freaking out again.

Because Tony had been pretty sure he’d ruined everything, given himself away, and now everything is back to normal. Maybe even better. And Tony has no idea what to do. He doesn’t know what’s changed, and he doesn’t know how to not ruin it again.

-

Tony is heading for the gym, figuring he might as well accomplish something if he’s too angry to sleep at three in the morning. Sure, he’s exhausted, but maybe if he gets some of this energy out he’ll be able to sleep. And it won’t even be the first time someone has found him blissfully passed out on the gym floor in the morning.

He passes Bucky in the hallway, and it’s somehow both a surprise and not surprising at all when Bucky catches him by the forearm and pulls him to a stop. His eyes move over Tony’s face, and at least this is an expression Tony recognizes, it’s Bucky’s ‘figuring out why Tony can’t sleep’ face, and it’s a game Bucky is disturbingly good at. Even if it’s been awhile since he last played, not that Tony is letting himself think about that. Much.

“Hey freezy-pop, just heading to the gym,” Tony says and aims for an easy smile, but Bucky frowns at him and doesn’t let go. Not that Tony is actually trying to get free, that would mean losing the warmth of Bucky’s skin against his.

“People problem or math problem?” Bucky asks with a crooked little grin and Tony really hopes it doesn’t show how much it makes it heart leap that Bucky knows that.

“People problem,” Tony says before he’s even aware he’s going to say it, and then sighs as it feels like something tense inside him starts to unravel. “Huge people problem. The board is trying to slip some shady shit past me again, and I have to wait until morning to yell at them. Because I’m, and I quote, ‘not allowed to wake the old bastards up to yell at them’ any more. But I want to, I’m all riled up now and I want to bite some heads off.”

Bucky’s smile gets a little toothier and his gaze flickers down for just a second before he says “As much as I enjoy watchin’ you bite heads, prob’ly not a good idea. Might give ‘em a heart attack.”

“Which would be a bad thing, because...” Tony says and waves his hand in a ‘go on’ type motion.

“‘Cause then Pepper will kill you with her shoes,” Bucky says, very seriously, and damnit he’s right. Down to the exact threat Pepper had used, and Tony’s heart gives another little lurch.

“And that is a thing I do not want,” Tony recites with a sad little nod, and then grins when Bucky laughs. “So that’s why I’m going down to the gym. I’m going to imagine their wrinkled old faces on the punch bags. I figure hey, punching bag therapy works for Steve.”

“No it doesn’t,” Bucky says with a snort, then gives Tony’s arm a gentle little tug and says “c’mon, come watch Star Trek with me.”

“You think you can just distract me with Star Trek?” Tony demands, “because you can. What episode are you on now? Should I grab popcorn? What am I saying, of course I should grab popcorn, come on I need your hands.”

“How much popcorn you plannin’ on eating?” Bucky asks, but lets Tony start dragging him towards the kitchen with a smug little smile, like he’s getting exactly what he wanted.

Tony’s heart gives another little leap, and apparently this is his life now. If he dies tonight, it won’t be from an anger induced aneurism, it’ll be from choking on his own stupid heart just because Bucky is taking care of him again. Because Bucky is smiling at him all warm and fond and a little awed, like Tony is the one doing something amazing.

“Also, I love it when math problems keep me up, that’s the dream. The metaphorical dream, obviously,” Tony rattles as he drags Bucky along by way of Bucky’s hand still on his arm, just firm enough to not lose his grip, thumb stroking over the inner bend of Tony’s elbow as he lets out an amused hum.

Bucky doesn’t let go even as they settle onto the couch with their own bowls of popcorn, just shifts his grip down to Tony’s wrist instead, tap his finger against the wild flutter of Tony’s pulse in time with the opening theme. Tony shovels more popcorn into his mouth, mocks the questionable science until Bucky starts good-naturedly shoulder checking him, and doesn’t let himself think about the fact that Bucky’s hand on his wrist is leaching all the tension out of his body better than anything else ever has.

And Tony especially doesn’t let himself think about the fact that Bucky is giving him that look again. Like he’s solving some kind of riddle. Or maybe like he’s already solved it, and he’s just waiting for Tony to ask about the answer. But Tony is terrified to ask, because fuck he doesn’t want to be wrong. Even more terrifying, he’s starting to think he might not be.

-

Tony isn’t sure how Pepper convinced literally all of the Avengers to dress up to the nines and show up for the fanciest and most painful charity gala of the year. She even got Clint into a tux. Tony does know how she convinced him, at least, which was with threats to both his person and his cars. It was very effective.

Tony is still pondering the mystery as he heads for the common room to round up the rest of the unwilling ceremonial social sacrifices, and instead finds only Bucky struggling with his bow tie. “Either I’m late, or everyone else is extremely late,” Tony says and doesn’t even try to hide his wide grin as he watches Bucky nearly strangle himself.

“It’s both,” Bucky grumbles, yanking at the ends of the bow tie so aggressively Tony is a little surprised the poor thing doesn’t tear, “Some of ‘em were here, but then Bruce spilled his tea all over him an’ Clint, an’ Steve laughed so hard he ripped his shirt. So they all went to change. I think Nat left without us.” Bucky drops his hands to his side and scowls at this reflection in the mirror above the bar, at the lopsided bow hanging loose around his neck.

“That’s why she’s Pepper’s favorite,” Tony says, laughing as much at the story as the defeated slump of Bucky’s shoulders as he starts unknotting the bow tie again. Before Tony can think better of it he’s stepping closer and tugging at Bucky’s arm, all wrapped up in soft black fabric that somehow makes his arms look thicker. “Stop, stop, you’re killing the poor thing,” he says as he grabs for the tie with his free hand.

“Good,” Bucky says with a pout that has no right being so adorable on someone so lethal, “I dunno why it’s bein’ so difficult. I can do a tie no problem, but this?” He whips the bow tie off his neck and eagerly shoves it into Tony’s hand as he declares “bow ties are bullshit. Do you have a clip on around here?”

“Bite your tongue, you heathen,” Tony tells him seriously and forces himself to let go of Bucky’s arm, only dragging his fingers along Bucky’s firm bicep a little in the process. Then he takes a deep breath and steps forward a little closer, until they’re pressed practically chest to chest, and says “Here, let me help you with this before you somehow injure yourself with neckwear.”

“Please,” Bucky says with a heavy sigh, his hand brushing over Tony’s hip just for a second before falling to his side. “I swear I’ve tried fifty times now, you’re my only hope. You always clean up so nice an’ I’m just tryin’ not to make a fool of myself.”

Tony tries to ignore what that particular choice of words does to him. Later, he can work himself up into knots over the fact that Bucky thinks he cleans up nice, thinks he always cleans up nice, like Bucky has been thinking it for a while. But that’s for later, for now he just has to focus on getting this bow tie in place so they can all get over to the stupid gala and live through the stupid night. And then he can go back to his stupid panicked pining.

Focusing on the bow tie turns out to be a little difficult though, because all Tony wants to focus on is Bucky standing so incredibly close to him, the way Bucky is looking at him, eyes half lidded and chin tipped up to give Tony better access to his throat. His first attempt looks even worse, too tight and the bow lopsided, and Bucky barks out a laugh.

“Do you actually know what you’re doing?” Bucky demands, play-swatting at Tony’s stomach, “Are you wearing a clip on?”

“You take that back!” Tony squawks, swatting back at him before he starts aggressively undoing the bow tie again. He needs to get it together, because the longer this takes him the longer he’s standing all up in Bucky’s space, and the more of a blushing mess he’s going to become. And if Bucky hasn’t figured him out already, which is something Tony still can’t get a definite, undeniable read on, then Bucky definitely will now.

Especially because Bucky keeps his head tipped back and smiles lazily in a way that has Tony’s stomach clinging up tight as he asks “Are you trying to kill me, is that what’s happening here?”

“Yes dear,” Tony says, sickeningly sweet, and gives an extra hard tug at one end of the tie, “I’m trying to kill you with a bow tie. Slowly.” Bucky doesn’t say anything, but his smirk gets wider and wider and finally Tony huffs out “Turn around, I can’t work like this.”

“Sure, much easier to strangle me from behind,” Bucky says agreeably as he spins in place to face the mirror again, and his reflection fixes Tony with an expectant look.

Before he can talk himself out of it Tony steps forward and up onto his toes, hooks his chin over Bucky’s shoulder to properly see what he’s doing in the mirror, and brings both arms up over Bucky’s shoulders. From this angle it only takes a couple seconds to get the bow tie perfectly centered and secured around Bucky’s neck, just like it only takes a couple seconds for Tony’s pulse to jump up to truly unsafe levels.

“There, told you I know what I’m doing,” he says with a smug grin and then can’t quite seem to pull himself away, can’t seem to break eye contact with Bucky’s reflection.

“Looks perfect, thanks doll,” Bucky says, low and warm, and raises one hand to gently grab Tony’s forearm where it’s still draped over his chest. Like he doesn’t want Tony to pull away.

“So how did Pepper talk you into this?” Tony blurts, which, all things considered, is probably the least damaging thing he could blurt out right about now.

“She pointed out that if the Avengers look good, it helps your company look good,” he says, like that’s any kind of explanation, still staring Tony right in the eye like that’s supposed to mean something.

“That- that’s not- what-,” Tony says, startled, taking an instinctive step back. Bucky doesn’t let go of his arm, just turns back to face him with his mouth already open to protest. “Seriously,” Tony says, cutting him off and feeling a little frantic for reasons he can’t name, doesn’t want to name, “That’s not something you need to worry about, what- why would that-“

“Hey,” Bucky says, soft like Tony is some kind of spooked animal, which, okay, that feels pretty fair right now. When Bucky gives his arm a little tug Tony steps closer, completely helpless against it. Then Bucky’s other hand is on his face, fingertips just barely brushing Tony’s cheek, the line of his throat, and cool metal thumb pressed oh-so-gently beneath Tony’s chin nudging his head up to meet Bucky’s gaze. “Hey,” he says again, “I want t’ make you look good, okay? ‘S the least we can do after all you do to make us look good. ‘Cause I know that can’t be easy.”

Tony just gapes uselessly for a second, breath caught in his chest, and he’s not sure when he grabbed two handfuls of Bucky’s tux jacket, but he doesn’t think he could let go if he tried. Finally he manages to drag in a shaking break and stutter out “w-we?”

Bucky smirks a little wider, taps his thumb against Tony’s chin, and confesses “I may have helped Pepper ‘talk’ some of ‘em into it.”

And Tony is right back to useless gaping, because what the fuck is he supposed to do with that?! Tony has never expected the rest of the team to worry about the effect their Avenging has on SI, that’s his responsibility, his problem to deal with, and he has the growing feeling that Bucky is trying to tell him something here but Tony is too busy trying not to hyperventilate to figure out what the fuck it is-

“I’m about to enter the common room!” Comes a sudden shout from the hallway, and Tony startles so hard that Bucky’s hand still on his arm is the only thing that keeps him from toppling over. “Please no one throw tea at me this time!” The voice continues and oh, that’s Clint. Of course, because they’re waiting for the rest of the team. Who will be here any minute, and Tony should probably get it together already.

“That was your own fault, an’ I think you know it,” Bucky calls back, smiling just a little ruefully as he drops his hands back to his sides. Tony untangles his hands from Bucky’s jacket and has to resist the urge to smooth out the slight wrinkles he’s left in the lapels.

“Now hold on just a minute,” Clint says as he bursts into the room to defend himself, wrinkled suit jacket only half on and waving a finger at Bucky and Tony sees his chance.

Tony runs. Sure, he says he’s going to get Bruce, but it is absolutely just a cowardly flee. He just needs a minute, he just needs to breathe, needs to figure out what the hell he’s supposed to do with all the hope growing wild and unchecked in his lungs.

-

Tony gets home from a business trip and he honestly has no idea what time it is. He doesn’t even know what day it is, the only things he knows are that he’s jet lagged as all hell, and that he just wants to sleep.

When he gets to the penthouse there’s takeout from his favorite Italian place waiting on the table, still warm. There’s also a note that says ‘be a good boy and eat before you pass out for 12 hours’. It’s not signed, but at this point it really doesn't need to be.

He honestly doesn’t know what he’s expecting at this point, when he send a photo of the empty containers to Bucky with the caption ‘I want a cookie when I wake up.’

What Tony gets is an almost immediate response in the form of a picture of one of those chocolate-and-peanut-butter monstrosities that he loves, followed by a text that says ‘see you in 13 hours sweet thing’.

Tony wakes up almost exactly thirteen hours later, and he’s so far past wondering how Bucky does that. He’s also so far past his ‘avoid Bucky’ plan, all he wants to do is go find Bucky, get his cookie, and maybe even get the feeling of Bucky’s fingers ruffling his hair again.

So he does.

-

He’s heading for the elevator to leave for a press conference when Bucky and Natasha suddenly appear in his way, arms crossed and matching terrifying assassin glowers on their faces.

“Seriously, bells,” Tony says, clutching at his chest with the hand not clutching his to-go cup, “bells for everybody, I can’t live like this. I have a heart condition.”

They don’t laugh, but it’s not the usual ‘Tony please don’t joke about your heart condition’ not-laughing, and Tony is instantly on high alert, because something is going on here and he has a feeling he’s not going to like it.

The feeling only gets stronger when Bucky actually hesitates before slowly saying “I know you already talked t’ Pepper about this-“

“No,” Tony says instantly and he can’t believe he ever thought it was kind of sweet that Bucky talks to Pepper, that was clearly going to come back to bite him in the ass some day. Sure enough Natasha pulls out the very same body armor shirt Pepper had been waving at him this morning and Tony groans out “no.”

“You’re wearing the armor,” Natasha says flatly, and it’s completely unsurprising that she’s the one playing bad cop here.

“I am not wearing the armor,” Tony returns, just as flat, “because why would I? It’s a press conference, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“You could get shot again,” Bucky bursts out and his face is doing something truly fascinating, like he’s cycling through emotions too quickly for any of them to properly settle.

Tony can’t help rolling his eyes a little, because are they still on that? “What’re the odds that’ll happen again?” he says dismissively, “Smart assassins never try the same move twice, you know that frosty.”

Bucky’s face twitches harder and okay, apparently they are not yet to the point of joking about Tony’s recent gunshot wounds. Noted. “If you don’t wear the armor? Odds’re pretty damn high,” he growls out and yep, he’s even got his angry-eyebrows on. That’s usually reserved for Steve-levels of stupidity.

“You made this, it's the same material you use for all our gear,” Natasha points out, and okay, maybe she’s not ‘bad cop’ so much as ‘rational cop’. She holds the armor out to him, one eyebrow raised, and demands “are you saying it’s not good enough?”

“That is not what I’m saying, and I think you know it,” Tony says, narrowing his eyes because oh, that’s a low blow, how dare she imply he’d put his team in anything but the best. Her challenging smirk only gets wider, so Tony sniffs and drags his free hand over his chest as he says “I just don’t want to ruin the lines of my suit.”

“It’s the size of an undershirt, your figure will be fine,” Natasha says, but her lips twitch ever so slightly upwards.

Bucky remains staunchly unamused. “Yeah, I’m just gonna put the armor on you myself,” he says with a decisive nod, and Natasha gleefully hands it over.

“I’ll throw my coffee on you,” Tony warns, holding it up like a shield and taking a step back, “it won’t accomplish much, but then you’ll have to listen to me bitch about how I don’t have my coffee anymore. I might even cry.” Bucky keeps advancing on him, armor in hand and a determined look in his eye, so Tony pretends to fumble with the lid of his cup and warns “I’m talking ugly crying here, Bucky-bear, you’ve seen me without my coffee, it’ll be embarrassing for everyone, and-“

"Tony," Bucky snaps, standing right in front of him now, voice low and rough and cracking ever so slightly, "be a good boy and wear the damn armor!”

Tony's stupid heart trips all over itself. Natasha is somehow suddenly all the way down the hall, pointedly ignoring them while sipping Tony’s coffee, and when did she even steal that, and she is very clearly blocking Tony’s escape route. Not that Tony could actually flee right now if he wanted to, he’s much too busy just trying to stay standing under the force of the hot flush that rushes over him, stomach clenching hard and blood roaring in his ears. Tony can’t find the air to reply, can only stare, and Bucky’s face crumples a little further.

“Please, doll? I gotta know you’re safe, I can’t-'' Bucky cuts himself off, clenching his jaw, and Tony feels some confusing mix of horrified and elated. Because of course he feels terrible that he’s the reason for the terrified, pleading look in Bucky’s eyes, the reason Bucky’s right hand trembles slightly as he gives the body armor held between them a little shake. But on the other hand, Tony is the one who made Bucky look like that, cracked open and vulnerable, Tony did that. And oh, he knows that Bucky is letting it show, for him, it’s a gift that he hears the way Bucky’s breath hitches as he pleads “Just- jus’ do this for me? Be good and wear th’ damn armor so I can feel like you’re safe, will you do that?”

Fuck, Tony is pretty sure he’s going to die, he’s pretty sure the entire tower can hear the way his heart is racing in his chest, He has no idea how he’s supposed to respond to that, because all he really wants to do is take that single step it would require to bury his face in Bucky’s chest. But Tony knows he has to say something, anything, Bucky is still staring at him like he’s waiting for an answer, and it nearly knocks him off his feet all over again when he realizes Bucky has been waiting for an answer from him for a while now.

"O-okay," Tony finally manages, voice weak around the way his heart is lodged somewhere in this throat and already shrugging off his jacket so he can just take the stupid god damn armor.

"Yeah?" Bucky asks, voice pitched low, gaze heavy, so much in that simple question. It’s so new and so familiar and Tony is already nodding because oh fuck yes, anything Bucky is offering, anything he wants, yes.

Tony has to swallow thickly a couple times before he can actually say “Yeah, I- I can do that. Wearing the armor, being safe.” Being good, he doesn’t say, but Bucky’s eyes darken like he heard it anyways. Once Tony has finished tugging off his jacket and tie Bucky takes them from his shaking hands, and Tony can only manage a vague huff of protest as Bucky carelessly drapes them over his own shoulder and makes an impatient gesture with his free hand.

And here’s the thing, Tony is not generally what people would call ‘shy’. He left his shame far behind him about a decade or two ago and never looked back. But it’s Bucky, and he just keeps staring as Tony starts fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, and Tony has a terrible feeling the flush on his face is spreading down his neck. He’s more or less gotten used to the scars that litter his torso, his teammates have all seen them and on a good day Tony even forgets they exist. He’s still getting used to the three new freshly-healed bullet holes scattered across his stomach, so of course that’s right where Bucky’s eyes settle and it’s all Tony can do not to fidget, not to snatch his shirt back out of Bucky’s hand.

Bucky’s fingers are warm as they trace over the shiny new skin, ticklishly light and unbearably gentle. “Jus’ wanna feel like I’m protectin’ you,” he says, voice barely more than a sigh, and Tony wants to protest that it’s not his fault but he can’t find the air. Instead all he can do is nod, scared to breathe too hard in case it dislodges Bucky’s fingers from tracing the edges of each slightly raised scar. Tony can’t help the soft noise he makes when Bucky’s hand falls back to his side, already mourning the loss of contact, and Bucky smirks just a little as he says “Arms up, babydoll.”

Tony definitely hears Natasha snort, somewhere down the hallway, but it’s pretty low on the scale of her ‘insulting snorts’ and Tony really doesn’t care right now. He’s too busy throwing his arms up so quickly that it’s a miracle he doesn’t smack Bucky in the face or dislocate his shoulder or something equally ridiculous. Bucky smirks a little wider but doesn’t say anything, just carefully slips the deceptively thin body armor onto Tony’s arms and then gently lowers it down over his head.

Bucky makes sure the armor is pulled all the way down, big hands running over Tony’s hips and the small of his back, and then hands back Tony’s shirt. “There y’ go, nice and safe for me,” Bucky says almost absently as he fixes Tony’s hair and Tony is mostly still just marveling at the open relief in Bucky’s eyes.

“You’re only paranoid because I’m an average squishy human,” Tony tries to accuse, mostly to distract from the way his hands are shaking as he does up his buttons, but it comes out wobbly because even he doesn't believe that anymore.

Bucky’s lips quirk up like he knows Tony doesn’t really think that, but he still says “Nah, I worry cuz its you,” voice soft, like he needs to be sure that Tony knows. His eyes are dark as he watches Tony settle the knot of his tie against the hollow of his throat, and Tony’s hands are shaking so badly that Bucky has to help him get his jacket back in place. “Didn’t even ruin th’ lines of your suit,” he adds with a smug little grin, running both wide palms down Tony’s chest, fingers spread wide, and there’s no way he can’t feel the way Tony’s heart is trying to beat straight out of his chest.

“Lucky for you,” Tony says, voice equally soft, and when Bucky’s hands fall away he drags in a ragged breath.

“Lucky me,” Bucky repeats absently, like he’s talking about something else entirely, and then leans forward. His grip is firm but gentle as he cups the back of Tony’s head with one hand, his lips are dry and soft against Tony’s temple, and Tony freezes up all over again. “Thank you, Tony,” he whispers, lips moving against Tony’s skin and sending shivers down his spine, “always so good for me.”

Tony makes a sound that he refuses to categorize as a whimper, and Bucky pulls away smiling amused and warm and amazed. When Tony steps onto the elevator he’s still trying to catch his breath, but his hands are steady.

-

“You should date me,” Tony blurts out that night, because he can’t not, anymore. Because he’d smiled like a loon all the way through the press conference, face still warm, and at the end Pepper had asked him if he had a concussion, half serious and half knowingly smug. Because the warm flutter in his chest still hasn’t faded. Because Bucky has been giving him that look, and Tony thinks he’s finally figured it out.

Bucky just blinks at him for a second, and okay yeah, maybe Tony could have picked a slightly better place than the middle of the kitchen. At one in the morning. When they’re both in worn pajamas, odds are unfortunately pretty good that Tony has the remains of his PB&J sandwich smeared around his mouth.

He probably could have picked some better words too, so Tony scrambles desperately for some and all he comes up with is “Or, I should date you. We should date each other. No, I mean- yes, but- fuck-“

“Yeah,” Bucky says, cutting him off and still blinking at him like he’s vaguely dazed. “Yeah, we- us. Dating. Yes. Okay.”

Tony blinks back at him, because that sounded a lot like Bucky agreeing to date him, but it also sounds a lot like he just broke Bucky’s brain. “Are you sure?” Tony has to ask, shuffling on his feet a little, “Because-“

“What- yes,” Bucky says, surprisingly vehement, lurching up from the stool he’s been sitting on. Tony dares to let a wide smile start spreading across his face. Still-

“I’ll be a good boyfriend,” he offers helpfully, and really wishes he could sound more sure of that. He’s damn sure going to do his best.

Bucky is up and across the kitchen in an instant, taking Tony’s face in his big, deadly, gentle hands and breathing out “Tony.” He’s moved from looking dazed to looking something almost like awed and he says “Tony, doll, you are already so good to me, I just want you.”

Tony shudders all over and he’s not sure when his hands landed on Bucky’s waist but he’s holding on for dear life. “Bucky,” he sighs, and then, because he’s weak, he begs “Say it again.”

And oh, Tony just knew that Bucky knew what he was doing, and he gets his proof because instantly Bucky tightens his grip, drags his fingers along the hollows behind Tony’s ears. “Gonna be my good boy, yeah?” he asks, breath hot against Tony’s lips, eyes dark and intent, smirk to die for.

“Oh,” Tony gasps and when he shivers Bucky just holds him tighter, pulls him closer, until Tony’s eyes fall closed and he’s clinging helplessly to the broad muscle of Bucky’s back. “I- oh,” he gasps again when Bucky’s thumbs trace along his cheekbones, barely catching his eyelashes, and Bucky’s answering laugh is everything. It’s happy and amazed in a way that makes Tony's chest warm and fluttery, dark and just a little condescending in a way that makes his guy tighten up in heated want.

“I see you, Tony,” Bucky says, low and rough and insistent, “I see everything you do for us, for everyone.” His lips trace the line of Tony’s brow in soft, feather-light kisses, and his voice is barely more than a breath when he adds “For me. Gonna be good an’ let me take care of you back?”

Tony is caught between the urge to nod frantically and the need to stay exactly where he is, Bucky’s hands cupping his face like the most precious thing he’s ever held, so instead he croaks out “Yeah, I- I can- fuck I want that.” Tony cracks his eyes open again, because it’s overwhelming, and he doesn’t want to miss it.

Bucky smiles, happy and proud and heated and a million other things that have warmth spreading through Tony’s chest, curling up tight in his gut, lighting up his entire body. “Can I kiss you, baby?” he asks, lips nearly close enough to touch already, and when Tony throws himself forward Bucky catches him easily, left hand sliding to the small of Tony’s back and pulling him in closer.

The first press of lips is electric, has Tony sighing out a soft noise and then Bucky’s hand still cupping his jaw tilts his head a little further back and Bucky licks his way into his mouth with a slow, consuming determination. Tony clings harder to Bucky’s shirt where it stretches tight across his shoulders and hangs on for all he’s worth, tries to catch Bucky’s tongue between his teeth and shudders when Bucky growls low in his throat.

Bucky’s thigh slots between Tony’s like it belongs there and Tony breaks away from the kiss with a shaking groan as he abruptly realizes that he’s achingly hard, soft cotton of his sweats damp and clinging and amazing. “O-oh, shit-“ Tony gasps out, helpless against the way his hips jerk forwards just once to grind himself against that thick thigh. “God, Bucky-“ he whines, ducking his head to pant against the curve of Bucky’s shoulder and then bites back a desperate noise when Bucky’s thigh nudges up against him a little harder.

“Tha’s real sweet baby, sound so good,” Bucky sighs out as his lips move over Tony’s hairline, down his temple, his breath as heated as his words. He shifts his hand a little lower, spreads his fingers wide over the curve of Tony’s ass and pulls him in encouragingly as he growls “C’mon doll, don’t stop, lemme hear you makin' all those pretty noises for me.”

Tony doesn’t need to be told twice, rolls his hips forward again with another muffled groan. “Bucky, oh my god-“ he whines and presses closer, until he can feel Bucky’s cock nudged up thick and hot against his hip. His legs shake and he just clenches them tighter around Bucky’s thigh, tucks his face into Bucky’s throat and grinds himself forward. The sweet friction against his cock has Tony gasping again, shuddering all over as fire races up his spine and his head spins.

“Good, so good sweet thing, fit so perfect against me, gonna take such good care of you, treat you just right,” Bucky says against the shell of his ear and presses his thigh up a little further, digs his metal fingers a little harder into the swell of Tony’s ass and pulls in time with the roll of Tony’s hips against him. When Tony moans and clutches at him tighter Bucky chuckles again, low and dark, and drags his calloused thumb along the line of Tony’s jaw as he asks ”Damn you’re easy for me, ain’t ya? Gonna come like this, grindin’ against me all desperate and shakin’ for it?”

It sends another wave of heated, slightly-embarrassed arousal crashing over Tony and all he can do is whine again because unless Bucky is planning on stopping him, then he absolutely is. At this point Tony couldn't stop himself if he wanted to, cock throbbing and leaking as he grinds himself against Bucky’s thigh, panting hot against the curve of Bucky’s throat.

He can already feel his orgasm building fast, feels like it’s been building forever now, and his voice is shaking as hard as the rest of him as he moans out “Bucky- please, I- I’m, I can’t, please-“ Bucky silences him with a scrape of his teeth over the shell of Tony’s ear that has him practically collapsing against Bucky’s chest, limp except for the way he can’t stop rutting himself against Bucky’s thigh, chasing the sparks that light up his body.

Bucky laughs again, just a low, warm rumble in his chest, and presses another kiss to Tony’s eyebrow before saying “You’re this worked up you better come for me now, babydoll. ‘Cuz I’m gonna take you upstairs an’ take my time with you, make you feel as good as you deserve an’ put you to bed real sweet, how does that sound baby?”

He somehow makes it sound like both a promise and a threat, and Tony chokes out a noise caught somewhere between a sob and a moan. “Y-yeah, fuck yeah that- oh- fuck please-“ Bucky’s fingers press a little more firmly against the base of his skull, sliding through his hair, and Tony feels like he’s burning.

“Good,” Bucky says, an uneven hitch to his breath and Tony can feel the way Bucky’s cock throbs against him, “Fuck, you’re so good sweet thing, so perfect, feel so good, sounds so sweet for me, c’mon Tony, wanna feel you fall apart for me.”

Every word settles hot in Tony’s gut, has his head spinning faster until all he knows is Bucky’s voice in his ear, Bucky’s hands firm and demanding against him, the rush of his own blood in his ear as the pressure builds inside him. His sweats are going to be ruined and Tony doesn’t give a fuck because he’s so close, thin cotton already soaked and clinging to his cock, thrusts of his hips gone short and uncoordinated as his fingers scramble at Bucky’s back.

“Bucky,” he moans out, completely shameless, and drags his teeth over the line of Bucky’s throat, just because he can. Because Tony still kind of can’t believe the way Bucky shakes and groans against him, pulls him in harder and meets every roll of Tony’s hips with one of his own. “God, you’re so- I, I can’t believe- oh- Wanted you so long-“

“I know,” Bucky says, surprisingly soft and something almost like sheepish. He presses his thumb a little harder to the underside of Tony’s chin and tips his head up again, making Tony gasp at the rush of cool air over his flushed face even as he keeps his eyes squeezed shut because it’s so much. He’s so close to breaking apart at every seam. Bucky’s lips brush against his and Tony whimpers even as Bucky says “I see you now baby, been taking care of me for so long, haven’t you? Been so good, takin’ care of yourself so perfect for me, shit- you’re so good for me doll.”

“Bucky,” he gasps again, so close to the edge, every inch of him tingling, burning, so close-

“Look at me, Tony,” Bucky says, barest edge of a demand to his voice and it still has Tony prying his eyes open instantly. Then he groans weakly because Bucky is right there, blue eyes gone nearly dark, wild and hungry and fixed on him like there’s nothing else in the world as he breathes out “now be a good boy and come for me.”

Tony’s orgasm hits him overwhelming and inevitable, leaves him moaning breathlessly and clinging to Bucky impossibly tighter. Bucky’s hand on his ass keeps pulling him in, dragging it out until Tony is shaking and nearly sobbing into the feather light brush of Bucky’s lips against his own as Bucky calls him ‘good’ and ‘perfect’ and ‘gorgeous’.

As soon as he gets back the bare minimum brain cells Tony tips his chin up to kiss Bucky again, blissed out and lazy and it makes him shiver all over again when Bucky clutches at him tighter with a deep groan. Tony has to break away from the kiss sooner than he’d like because he still hasn’t quite caught his breath, hasn’t been able to get his hips to stop twitching forward as aftershocks race through him.

“Damn,” Bucky sighs, one hand petting at Tony’s hair and the other gentling against his waist as Tony slumps against him fully, “Good boy, so good baby, so perfect for me. Let’s get you up into bed, huh? Spread you out real nice and get my mouth on every inch of you.”

And that sounds good, it really does, but Tony can still feel Bucky’s cock thick and hard and throbbing against his hip, and he wants it now. So instead Tony drops to his knees, moving quick enough that he slides easily out of Bucky’s lax grip, presses his face to Bucky’s hip and nuzzles his cheek against the clear outline of Bucky cock through his thin pajamas.

“Fuck-“ Bucky gasps and his fingers tighten in Tony’s hair, holding him in place as his hips jerk forwards. “Damn what a sight you make, you want it that bad, doll?”

Tony turns his head just enough to look up at Bucky, lips moving against the hard line of Bucky’s cock, and he’s never meant anything more as he breathes out “Please, honey.”

Bucky’s eyes get impossibly darker and his cock throbs, the scent of him thick and heady and Tony’s mouth is watering. “We’re still in the kitchen, baby,” Bucky points out, but he’s already hooking his thumb into the front of his pants.

“I can be quick,” Tony promises, smirking a little because Bucky’s hips keep twitching forward against him, parajams visibly wet where they pull tight over the head of his cock, and this isn’t going to take long at all. And Tony really, really doesn’t care right now that he’s in the kitchen in a tower full of insomniacs, all he cares about his getting his mouth on Bucky, making Bucky feel as amazing as he does.

Bucky groans out something that was probably meant to be Tony’s name, but Tony has more important things to focus on because Bucky shoves his pants down far enough for his cock to spring free and Tony wastes no time trying to choke himself on it. He’s so loose-limbed and orgasm-dazed that when Bucky’s cock nudges at the back of his throat Tony just keeps going, only gags a little even as his eyes water and a whine builds in his chest.

“Oh- fuck Tony, so good, you’re so good baby, so- fuck-“ Bucky’s every word comes out rough and gasping and his fingers dig harder into the back of Tony’s neck, hips jerking forward like he just can’t help himself.

Tony moans encouragingly and clings to his hips, presses his nose to Bucky’s stomach and swallows around his cock. Bucky pulls back and then thrusts himself deep into Tony’s throat with another shuddering groan. Then he does it again, and again, until Tony has spit and precome sliding down his chin and arousal building again, almost painful, in his gut.

“Good, fuck you feel so good, you’re so- Tony-“ The way Bucky groans out the compliments, practically snarls his name, sends a hot shiver down Tony’s spine and has shaking all over again.

There’s a desperate moan caught in Tony’s chest that comes bursting out of him when Bucky abruptly tightens his fingers in Tony’s hair and yanks him back, leaves Tony panting for breath. His protest dies away when he opens his eyes and meets Bucky’s gaze, dark and ravenous.

“Open up, sweet thing,” Bucky growls, metal hand flying over his cock and his other hand still holding Tony in place, so close to the flushed, leaking head of Bucky’s cock and yet so far.

Tony doesn’t even need to think before he lets his aching jaw fall all the way open and he doesn’t care that his face is wet, constant pleading noises slipping out of his raw throat. He doesn’t care that he’s kneeling on the hard tile of the kitchen with his own come cooling in his sweats, all he cares about is getting more.

“Good boy,” Bucky gasps, and then finally comes. It streaks warm across Tony’s chin, the bridge of his nose, into his open mouth, and Tony lets his eyes fall closed again with a pleased moan as he runs his tongue over his lip, chasing the musky taste of him. “Fuck- shit, oh, Tony-“ the way Bucky groans out his name is going to stick with Tony for a long, long time, ringing in his ears, lighting him up, and Tony wants to hear it forever.

He’s still catching his breath when Bucky pulls him to his feet, into his arms, and Tony is all too happy to wrap his arms around Bucky’s shoulders, his shaking legs around Bucky’s waist, and let Bucky take his weight. “Okay, now we can go upstairs,” Tony slurs out as he drops his forehead to Bucky’s shoulder, voice rough, still feeling like he’s floating on air.

Bucky laughs, quiet and rumbling, and his hand is so gentle on the back of Tony’s head again as he tucks Tony’s face down into the curve of his neck. It’s definitely smearing Bucky’s shirt in come but if Bucky doesn’t mind then Tony certainly doesn’t care, just snuggles in closer and wonders if it’s actually possible for his heart to swell straight out of his chest.

“Whatever you want, babydoll,” Bucky says, warm and fond, presses a quick kiss to the side of Tony’s head and then starts carrying him towards the elevators. “Gonna take such good care of you, my good boy.”

Tony is pretty sure it’s not physically possible to get any closer, but he wraps himself tighter around Bucky and gives it his best shot and he mumbles “Gonna take care of you back.”

“I know you are, sweet thing, ‘s what makes you amazing,” Bucky says with another warm laugh, and Tony could probably argue that, because he’s really not, but he decides to let Bucky have this one.

For now. Apparently, they’ll have plenty of time to debate it later, over dates, and Tony is so looking forward to it.

-

Tony wakes up sore in places he didn’t even know he had, teeth marks on his shoulders and stubble burn on his thighs and just- deliriously happy. He can’t even try to convince himself it was some kind of crazy dream, because the physical evidence is kind of overwhelming. The other half of his bed is still warm, and there’s a telling clattering sound coming from his kitchen, and Tony decides he can afford to let himself lay here grinning at the ceiling like a loon for a while.

Soon enough Bucky is back with a giant plate of waffles and a wide smile, pausing in the doorway to drag his eyes down Tony’s bare chest. His hair is a mess and he’s unbearably gorgeous, and Tony smiles back as he realizes he can say it now.

“A beautiful man and breakfast? Help, my heart can’t take it,” Tony says, clutching at his chest with one hand even as he makes grabby motions at Bucky with the other.

“Not funny,” Bucky says, but he’s laughing as he sets the plate down on the nightstand and crawls back into bed, into Tony’s arms, and he’s still smiling softly when Tony pulls him into a kiss.

[buckyskorpion]

“take a seat, we’re gonna be here a while” with bucky barnes? please and thanks! i love your writing btw xoxo

i know this was sent ages ago but i needed to get mi creative juices flowing so im filling this prompt now! thank you for sending this and thank u so much for enjoying my work!!

~~~~~~~~~

Bucky appears in the doorway look grumpy, lumpy, and thoroughly confused. He stuffs his hands in his oversized hoodie and glares at you from the shadows, frown deepening as you catch his eye and grin. 

“Good morning,” you sing-song. The stormcloud in the doorway grumbles like thunder. 

“It’s two-thirty,” he says, and you just shrug. 

Natasha whacks you on the side of the head which hurts like a bitch (not that you’d tell her) and says, “Stop moving.”

“What are you doing?” Bucky asks, sounding wary. He shuffles further into the room with a deeply suspicious squint, trying to see what Natasha is doing on your head. You sit cross-legged at her feet while she works - she’s already sectioned your hair so you’re sure you look a treat with the deformed buns littered over your head. Now she’s got the clippers and is carefully shaving the hair at the nape of your neck, moving up in careful strokes. 

“Shaving my head,” you tell Bucky, gesturing to your hair wildly which earns you another slap from Nat. “Duh.” 

“Why?” Bucky asks slowly, like you’re dumb, and maybe you are but honestly you’re just so bored. Quarantine sucks, your hair sucks, you’re sick of it getting in your face and in your mouth and being a general pain in your ass. Training is a nightmare with long hair, Steve always sits on it somehow during movie night, and Sam won’t stop bitching about it clogging the drain in the gym showers. This is what’s best for everyone. 

“My hair, my choice,” you say, and Nat hums in agreement. “I wanna see what my skull looks like. Don’t you ever wonder that? What if I’ve had a weird shaped head this whole time and never knew.”

“You do have a weird shaped head,” Bucky says, “Don’t need to shave it to figure that out.”

“Rude,” you huff. Under you breath, like an actual child, you mutter, “Your mum’s got a weird shaped head.”

“My mum’s dead,” Bucky says, deadpan. Nat snorts and you grab a chunk of your hair to throw at Bucky, but it just falls uselessly at his feet. 

A few beats of silence pass, save for the low buzz of Nat’s clippers. It feels really nice, like every stroke is ten pounds off your shoulders (or scalp, you suppose) and you can’t wait for Nat to be done. She moves onto the next section, kneeling in a ring of your hair on the ground, while Bucky just stands in front of you shuffling from foot to foot like an idiot.

“Take a seat,” you say, gesturing to the floor space in front of you. “We’re gonna be here a while.”

Bucky hesitates for a second. You can hear his metal hand whirring in the pocket of his hoodie like he’s wringing his hands together, but eventually he folds himself down to sit cross-legged in front of you. You smile at him, and he smiles back but it morphs into more of a laugh. His face scrunches up all cute as he looks at you and you can’t help but poke your tongue out at him. 

“You look funny,” he says, gesturing to the weird buns Nat’s put your hair in to hold it out of her way. 

“That’s rich,” you say, gesturing to his face. He rolls his eyes but he’s still smiling, so you know he’s not really offended. But you’re looking at him now and he does look funny - dark circles under his eyes, red rimmed like he’s been crying or up all night or maybe both. He must’ve been wandering around the compound at two in the morning for a reason, and unless it was to shave his head as well, it probably wasn’t a good one. 

He seems happy enough now, sitting on your bedroom floor with you and Nat and the soft hum of the clippers. She’s done one side of your head now, and it feels weird to not have the familiar curtain of hair tucked behind your ear. You reach up to move it only to find nothing there, your fingers brushing against fresh, cropped stubble instead. It feels so different - soft but rough at the same time, scratchy under your fingertips but so good on your scalp. You feel your eyes grow wide as you run your fingers over your new hair again, ignoring Nat’s annoyed huff at your movements. 

“You like it?” Bucky asks, smiling at you stupid. A rush of giddy excitement shoots through your chest, spurring you to reach out and grab Bucky’s arm without thinking. 

“Feel it,” you say, tugging his arm until his hand leaves his pocket. He looks wildly uncomfortable for a moment before he relents, letting you manoeuvre his flesh hand onto the side of your head. 

“Do you want me to cut you?” Nat asks, but she doesn’t sound pissed. In fact, she sounds amused, and that’s never a good sign for you. But you can’t really focus on that when Bucky is now entranced with the feeling of your buzzed head under his fingertips. 

He stares wide-eyed as he rubs the side of your head, and you let your eyes flutter closed at the feeling. It’s nice, alright? Bucky’s touch tingles all over your scalp and down your spine, little lightning bolts to follow his moody thunder from before. All trace of his bad mood is gone as he scratches at your buzz, now, making you shiver. 

That seems to be the final straw for Natasha, who finishes off the last chunk and clicks the clippers off. The silence startles Bucky and he lets his hand drop, looking up almost guiltily at Nat as she says, “I’m done, I’m going to bed. Have fun, idiots.”

“Thanks Tash,” you say, but you don’t even look at her as she leaves the room. You’re too busy looking at Bucky. 

“How’s it look?” you ask, all quiet in your now silent bedroom. Bucky snaps his gaze back from the empty space Nat once took up to you, eyes widening as he takes in the full picture of your middle-of-the-night-breakdown decision. 

He swallows, but his voice still sounds hoarse when he says, “Um, good. Looks neat.”

“Neat, huh?” you say, and run your hand over your head. That’s different, for sure. Gone is the length and weight around your shoulders, and when you shake your head like a wet dog you’ve never felt so unencumbered. Bucky laughs at your antics and you grin back, almost breathless, so enamoured with the cool waft of the aircon on your nearly exposed scalp and the absolute lack of anything to get in your way. You say, “Yeah, pretty fucking neat.”

“I liked your long hair,” Bucky says, and you almost frown until he adds, “But I like this, too. Maybe more. It feels nice.”

“Like a tennis ball,” you say, nodding solemnly. 

“You’re so fucking stupid,” Bucky says with an eyeroll, but you just grin. You rise onto your knees, crawling into Bucky’s lap before he can say anything and rubbing your head in his face like a deranged cat. He squawks and tries to lean away from you without also toppling over onto his back, and you just laugh. He grips your waist to stabilise you both and you settle a bit, letting your legs loop around his hips and your hands to rest on his shoulders.

“You think it feels nice,” you say, teasing lightly. Bucky makes to shove you off but you clench your thighs and hold on tight, all two-hundred pounds of Bucky no match for your stubborn idiot-streak. “You like it.”

“Said that, didn’t I? Turn your ears on,” Bucky says, but he’s blushing so you know you’ve won. 

“You like me,” you say, and you grin, because you finally push Bucky over the line you always love to toe. Teasing Bucky is a sport and you’re the Olympic champion, the Usain Bolt - you win every time. Bucky growls and snaps a hand up to grip the back of your skull. You’re delighted to find his giant hand spans the entirety of the back of your scalp as he holds you in place. He scritches into the short hairs and you’re even more delighted at the feeling that zings down your spine to your cunt almost instantaneously. 

“And you like that,” Bucky grins, all sharp teeth and dark eyes because he’s a devil and teasing you just so happens to be his Olympic gold as well. You make a sound almost like a groan, kind of like a purr, and nudge your head back into his hand some more so he keeps touching you like that. 

“Don’t like you, though,” you say, breathless now so it doesn’t quite have the same impact. Bucky rocks you backwards, lying you flat so he can crawl on top of you despite the absolute carnage of your old hair littering the carpet and now, probably, all of your clothes. Good thing you won’t be needing those much longer.

“We’ll see about that,” Bucky says, and see about that you most definitely do. 

[wienerbarnes]

Breathe Deeper

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (Cheek to Cheek)

Word Count: 2,324

Prompt: “Why is it always murder and mayhem with you? Don’t you ever just do normal person things? Eat a sandwich? Brush your teeth? Do you even brush your teeth?” (from a random prompt generator)

Warnings: murder, violence, staging a suicide, ~feelings~

A/N: cafe bustelo does wonders for you at 1 am anyway ive been trying to finish this for like two months. have a couple more ideas for these two but feel free to send me any ideas or requests and ill do em if the inspo strikes! also title is purely the song im listening to as i type this out and has no correlation to the story LOL but hey if yall like tame impala enjoy

MAIN MASTERLIST | CHEEK TO CHEEK MASTERLIST

A single pop is heard as a bullet flies out of your gun into the head of the old man who opened the door.

“Christ! No build up?! No tension?! No confirmation that it’s even him?!” Bucky yells as he wiggles his ear to rid the ringing from it.

You brush past Bucky and slide the gun back into the holster strapped to your thigh. You step over behind whatever his name was, Bucky’s having trouble remembering after that blow to his eardrum, and hook your hands under his arms in order to  drag him back into the empty house.

“Why is it always murder and mayhem with you? Don’t you ever just do normal person things? Eat a sandwich? Brush your teeth? Do you even brush your teeth?” Bucky questions you as he closes the door behind him, stepping in between splatters of blood.

“Nope, gotta leave leftovers for the bugs that live in my mouth.”

“That’s gross.”

“Shut up, help me lug this guy to the bedroom.”

The two of you are in a small town in Northern Oklahoma on the property of one of your ex-Hydra handlers. After a few days of researching, the two of you were able to figure out where he moved to and what he changed his name to after retiring from his prior lifestyle.

“I knew it was him from the second I saw him. You never forget.” You explain to him, both of you positioning his body in the corner of the room.

“You go clean up the entryway, I’ll finish staging over here.” Bucky offers it to you. He takes out his own gun from his own waistband and fires a single shot through the same hole you put in between the guy’s eyes. The splatter that explodes on the walls behind him are perfect, artistic almost. Bucky then starts looking around the room; in the closet, under the bed, until he reaches the night stand where a pretty little pistol lays. Not the same gun as his, but he has a feeling the police system in such a small and unpopulated town won’t bother to investigate this death as a murder as opposed to the obvious suicide that took place.

Bucky notices the small skull and octopus stamped into the side of the gun as he places it in his hands. He rolls his eyes before making his way back over to the entryway where you’re sat on the ground, scrubbing away with a rag in your hands and a bottle of bleach next to you. 

Bucky walks over and takes a seat on the loveseat positioned a few feet away from where you are.

“So, where we heading after this?” Bucky asks you, leaning forward and resting his elbow on the arm of the seat.

“Back to New York? You probably gonna be busy working on that murder case.” You glance at him confused before going back to scrubbing.

Bucky pauses before speaking again, “How do you know about that?”

“I… keep up with my fair share of news.”

“You don’t pay for newspapers nor do you have a TV or a phone; you don’t have news. Besides, we haven’t released any information to the public about anything before we get more leads. So, how do you know about that?” Bucky stares at you, eyebrows pinched a bit in the middle as he awaits your answer.

“Do you wanna stop and get some pie on the way back?”

“No. Did you see something about the murders?” Bucky ignores your attempt at changing the subject.

“You just said you haven’t released anything-”

“I don’t mean on the news, I mean in that empty head of yours.” He teases.

You sigh, “I hate when you ask me about my… head.”

“Well, you could be helping here! You can try and be good!”

“I’m sitting on the floor scrubbing an old guy’s blood out of the wood of his own house after I’ve just blown his brains out.”

“Yeah, a bad old guy!”

You get off the last of the specks of blood before standing up and screwing the cap back onto the bottle of bleach. “I didn’t even see anything about the killer, anyway.”

“So, what did you see?”

“You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

“Fetch me a bone here, doll.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’d like that, dog.”

He grabs the bleach and rag from your fingers to free up your hands from carrying anything. Tingles travel up the tips of your fingers and flow up through your wrist into your chest. You glance up and make eye contact with Bucky and the dramatic puppy eyes and pouty lips he’s throwing your way. 

You stare for a few more seconds before looking away, “Check that huge pond in Central Park tomorrow. His next victim will be floating there.” You satisfy him before turning and making your way back outside and to the car the two of you took on your little road trip.

While walking back to the parked car, Bucky quickly rushes in front of you and grasps the handle before you can reach it, allowing you to get in the car while he holds it open for you. He throws you an innocent looking smile, a smile coming from a person who surely didn’t just stage a suicide. You bite back your own smile before taking a seat and letting Bucky close the door behind you.

…

When you open your eyes after your nap, it's dark outside the moving car. You slowly lift your head up off the car window and glance over at Bucky, who you now realize is on the phone with someone.

“I told you, it was a weird anonymous number, Sam. I don’t know where it came from.” Bucky speaks softly on the phone before turning his head to look at you in your sleepy state.

“All they said was to check the pond in Central Park tomorrow. I know it’s sketchy, but we don’t have any other leads anyway, we might as well try it.”

“We sounds like a lot of people, ain’t you say that to me one time? Not all of us are on vacation, you know.” You hear another deep voice through the tiny speaker of the phone against Bucky’s ear.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ll be back the day after tomorrow, man.”

Bucky wraps up his conversation as you process what you’ve heard. Bucky has lied, again, to the government, to Captain America, in order to protect you and your existence.

“How’d you sleep?” He asks before your thoughts can get too far from you.

“Fine. We’re already heading back to New York?” 

“We’re stopping at a motel for the night, but after tomorrow’s drive, we’ll get there by sundown.”

You sit up proper and stretch your legs as far out in front of you as you can, the bones crunching and popping in relief at the new position. Bucky cringes next to you. He glances at you and watches you pick at the crust gathered at the corners of your eyes, a yawn escaping you along with the last of your grogginess.

Bucky doesn’t know how he’d fully express it to you, but he’s so happy to see the person you’re growing into. Everyday a little bit more of your personality, your mannerisms, your weirdness, your humor, your ideas; everything about the real you, shows more and more. He sees this beautiful woman who, maybe a year and some ago, was walking the line of death and now sits beside him with neon green nail polish and mismatched socks and cute flower earrings adorning the curve of your ear. He stares at the tattoo on your neck, that angry red face with large eyebrows and wonders whether or not that was your idea or not. He wonders if you have any other tattoos hidden among the space of your skin, he doesn’t remember seeing any along your sides or stomach that nightmare of a night in his apartment-

“You’re swervin’.” 

Bucky clears his throat and snaps his head forward, fixing the car to drive straight on the road. Soon, he sees the promising sign, “Motel in 10 Miles,” and the two of you park in the small lot of the light orange building.

The inside smells of old people, an aged scent that isn’t necessarily bad, but makes you scrunch your nose nonetheless. No bugs in clear sight and the roof is still intact, so it should be suitable for a night of rest.

“We only have rooms available on the first floor for tonight, I’m assuming you’ll want one bed?”

Bucky's throat goes dry for a second, “Yes, that’s fine.” He doesn’t want to consult you as you look far off out the front window of the lobby, back turned to the young woman at the front desk. No matter how small a town in whatever state there is at this point in their journey, there is no risking anyone recognizing you, even if your search mission has been deemed unsolved.

A plastic card is slid into Bucky’s right hand and he begins making his way back outside and down the walkway towards their room for the night. You follow him silently.

“I call showering first, I think there’s small clumps of blood still stuck in my hair.” You tell him, flinging your backpack onto the bed, and pulling out a large sweatshirt and panties and taking them into the bathroom with you. 

While the water begins to run, Bucky undoes the blankets, looks thoroughly through the pillows and in between the sheets in search of bed bugs. Next, inspecting the lamps, outlets, and anything else that could possibly hide a camera, microphone, or any other device. He even contemplates tearing apart the carpet under his feet, but decides against the extra work. He places your bag along with his own backpack on the small table in the corner of the room and fixes the bed to not look like he tore it apart recklessly. I wonder what side she prefers-

The bathroom door opens and a cloud of steam flows out, you soon emerge with a towel wrapped around your head, large sweatshirt hanging off your frame and bare feet digging into the soft carpet beneath you. You fling the towel off of your head using momentum from throwing your head and neck forward, the towel landing on the floor in front of you and your wet hair sending a light spray Bucky feels on his warm face.

By the time Bucky finishes with his shower, the room resembles a sauna and his metal arm has gone hot. A long sleeved shirt and cotton shorts are slipped onto his body along with a pair of thick socks to keep him warm at all times. He steps out of the bathroom, using his towel to rub through his hair, and he spots you using the small mirror on the wall. 

Your legs are on display and your underwear is in sight. Bright pink with WEDNESDAY printed on the behind in bubble letters, it’s Friday, the bottoms of your butt cheeks hanging out the bottom of the fabric. The cotton hugs your body and Bucky can’t help but blush at the sight. His mother would smack him over the head if she were here right now. 

Your shirt is lifted, one of your hands holding it high on your chest where Bucky can see a slip of under your breast peeking, the curve intriguing him. Your other hand is occupied rubbing a colorless liquid along your side, Bucky focuses his attention and realizes your rubbing along the scar he left you from your stitches. The bottle on the table has a label that read Vitamin E Natural Oil. 

Your fingers seem unbelievably soft and gentle as he watches them glide along your side, massaging the shiny oil into your smooth skin. You drop your sweatshirt and gather a bit more oil on your hands before rubbing it into your hips where Bucky can see the faintest stretch marks.

“Sorry ‘bout the scar. O-on your side, I mean.” Bucky stutters out, convincing himself that his body is warm from the shower he took. 

“It probably saved my life, so I can’t say I’m sorry about it.” You respond without turning around, as though you knew he was there watching you lather yourself in oil like the beginning of a softcore porn but didn’t mind him enjoying the show.

“What’s that stuff for, anyways?” Bucky asks as he gathers his old clothes back into his bag, folding each piece before placing the packed bag next to yours on the table. Your bag that clearly does not have folded clothes, only crinkled ones. Bucky empties your bag and folds your clothes for you before neatly packing it and closing the zippers.

“Helps fade scars.”

“Yeah, but why? Scars are cool.” 

“I suppose. I’d still like to lighten them a bit. So they look better, prettier.”

“You’re probably the most beautiful woman I’ve seen in the last few decades.”

“You don’t even remember most of the last few decades,” You try to joke.

“I mean it. It’s a compliment. It’s okay to accept and enjoy compliments, doll.” Bucky looks at you, forcing you to meet his eyes. You see in your peripheries as he puts the cap on the bottle of oil and places it next to your bag. A small smile adorns his face as he looks at you, and you can’t help but feel a knot form in your throat.

It’s been a long while since you’ve received any kind of love, whether that be physical, emotional, mental, or self. It’s an overwhelming feeling when someone who you aren’t actually the closest with gives you such a deep and personal compliment. 

Aren’t the closest with- this is your only friend he the only person you even know. The point is, being the most beautiful woman of the century is much different than having pretty hair or a good sense of humor.

You look away from him before the small bit of wetness can gather in your waterline.

“Which side of the bed do you prefer?” Bucky whispers softly to you, as to not break the safe atmosphere created by his sweet comment.

You clear your throat that now feels thick with tar, “The right.”

“Good. I prefer the left.”

[goosewhisker]

russetfur vs. the entirety of skyclan || ch. 3

read this on ao3 || read this on fanfiction.net

chapter one

chapter two

summary:  After enduring months of Turtlekit and Kitekit’s abuse, Rootkit finally snaps and accidentally awakens his powers. This has the unfortunate side effect of reviving the ghost of an angry Shadowclan warrior who: 1) is personally offended by Skyclan’s existence, and 2) has magnanimously taken it upon herself to relieve the world of that burden. Or something

okay so its been a minute since i posted. a lot of things happened, i got a kitten, a job, a new fandom, and i speedran a full semester of calculus in like the past four weeks. im sorry about how late this is and i cant promise when the next one will be up but its half written already so uh hope springs eternal. anyway thanks for coming to my ted talk

also shoutout to @turquoise-tulip for reminding me that ive had this chapter in my drafts for half a year now this ones for you im sorry its so stupid

Chapter Three: In Which Rootkit Practices the Art of Blackmail 

The morning after is quiet.

...is what Rootkit would like to say. Actually, he gets woken up by Tree at what his mom likes to call 'the butt-crack of dawn' to go talk to Leafstar, thereby ruining his chances of being a normal warrior forever.

When they get to the leader's den, Violetshine is already there. Rootkit discovers this by walking into her while his eyes are closed in the middle of a yawn.

"See, he's about to fall asleep on his paws," his mom points out, sounding pretty close to yawning herself. "It's too early for this. Morning, kid."

Rootkit mumbles something that's unintelligible even to himself and falls asleep on his mother's paws. A few minutes later, he's woken by gentle paws on his back.

"Hey, kid. Kiddo. You gotta get up."

Rootkit hums absently, still mostly asleep, before realizing abruptly where he is. Mouse dung! Suddenly, he's completely awake. He jerks his head up, almost colliding with Tree's jaw before he pulls out of the way. Rootkit, too busy panicking, doesn't notice. He just fell asleep in Leafstar's den! After she'd brought him over to talk specifically to him! After seeing this humiliating display of incompetence, she'll really never make him a warrior, and Kitekit and Turtlekit will-

"Rootkit." The single word cuts through the panic. Rootkit looks up to see Leafstar, looking very serious with only a hint of amusement seeping through. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Yes!" The answer bursts out of him before he really thinks it through. And, well, it's not entirely true, but it's not entirely untrue either. Either way, he's up for answering any questions, which is probably what she's asking.

Leafstar looks at him just long enough for him to start fidgeting before she begins. "I've already spoken to your parents, Rootkit, so I know most of the story. I just need to know your side. What happened yesterday with the ghost?"

Rootkit looks at his paws, then back to Leafstar's calming gaze. "It started when I was at the grave. I was just- just talking, and then Kitekit found me..."

He tells her the whole, stupid story. How he'd lost it at Kitekit and Turtlekit and turned around to find a ghost looming over him; how he'd asked Tree for help, only for her to disappear; how she'd attacked him and Tree, announced her intentions, and vanished. At last, the story runs dry and he falls silent to watch her expression change.

Leafstar hums thoughtfully. She turns to Tree. "Do you think she's likely to hurt someone?"

Tree shrugs, looking uncomfortable. "If she's serious, yes. Most ghosts can't touch the living. Those who can - like this one - usually died violently or thinking they were wronged. And angry ghosts tend to be... volatile."

"Ah." Leafstar considers this.

"If it comes to that, what'll you do?" Violetshine asks. "Will you be able to stop her?"

Rootkit watches Tree watch his mom, and something in his dad's eyes soften. He leans over to swipe a tongue over her ear. "You want to help her, don't you?" he says quietly. "Because she's Shadowclan?"

Violetshine flushes, but she doesn't back down. "Many of them weren't kind to me," she says, "But Shadowclan was still my home once. I can't just forget that."

Tree purrs and winds his tail with hers. "That's why I love you," he whispers.

Rootkit sticks his tongue out in disgust. Bleh. Grownups!

"To answer your question," Tree adds, "I don't know what I'll do. I suppose-" he pauses, eyes tight with worry. "I've never exorcised a ghost who didn't want to move on before. I don't know if I even can. This may be something of an experiment."

The grownups look at each other for a long moment. "I will do whatever it takes to keep my clan safe," Leafstar says. There's something like a warning in her voice that makes Rootkit shiver.

"What should I do?" he asks. All three adults look at him like they've forgotten he's there.

After a moment, Leafstar's face breaks into a smile. "Tell you what. You can help by keeping an eye out for this Russetfur and letting one of us know when she's nearby. But listen, Rootkit," and her voice goes stern. "You must stay away from her. Russetfur is dangerous, and she may hurt you to get what she wants. Do you understand me, Rootkit?"

Rootkit looks into Leafstar's amber eyes - warm and worried and burning with a fierce, protective fire - and knows what he has to do. "I understand, Leafstar," he says, and just like that, his mission clicks into place.

From somewhere else in the camp - probably the warriors' den - someone screams, followed by Russetfur's haunting cackles.

Rootkit ignores it.

As he double checks his supplies, Rootkit runs through a mental checklist. He's talked to the ghost - check. He's figured out what she wants - check. He's given her what she wants - well... no. Tree's three-step-plan hadn't exactly accounted for what happened if what the ghost wanted was unobtainable.

Well, it doesn't really matter now. This plan is sure to work.

"Are you sure this is gonna work," Needlekit says again.

"Yes, I am, Starclan above will you stop nagging me," Rootkit says.

His sister makes a disgruntled noise and hauls the next bramble into place with a particularly vicious tug. "I'm just concerned you have no idea what you're doing, is all."

"I know exactly what I'm doing."

Rootkit doesn't have any idea what he's doing.

"Hmm." Needlekit seems thoroughly unconvinced, but she gets on with the task anyway. The trailing brambles she's weaving into place will form a turtle-shell-shaped cage laced with warding herbs over the grave when they're done. The plan is more or less to summon Russetfur into a cage she can't phase through, leaving her unable to escape. In Rootkit's opinion, it's a pretty solid plan for someone who has no idea what he's doing. "Why're you so set on doing this, anyway? Didn't Leafstar tell you not to mess with Gingerpelt?"

"Russetfur," Rootkit corrects her automatically. "And, well, yes, but..." he hesitates. "It's just... you know. I was the one who set her free in the first place, and..."

"Yes?" Needlekit prompts him. She's given up on the brambles and moved to stuffing moss and bracken into the gaps.

Rootkit fidgets uncomfortably for a second before the truth bursts out of him. "And now Russetfur's running wild everywhere and it's all my fault, and what if Leafstar decides not to make me an apprentice? If I don't become an apprentice, I can't be a warrior! And if I can't be a warrior-" he cuts himself off. He can't repeat what Kitekit and Turtlekit had said; even saying the words aloud seems like tempting fate... and he can't burden Needlekit with that, anyway.

Needlekit looks at him, though, and her gaze goes soft. "And being a warrior is your dream," she says, and starts stuffing the gaps with renewed vigor. "Well, come on, then! If we can trap Scarletfuzz then Leafstar will have to make us both apprentices! I can't be an apprentice without you; then I'd have to share the den with just Kitekit and Turtlekit. Can you imagine?" She pulls a disgusted face that has Rootkit giggling despite himself.

"Alright, alright," he says. "While you're doing that..." He shoves aside the piles of bracken they'd collected and settles down on the dirt. In his stories, Tree had never really talked about summoning ghosts - his work had been more about getting them to leave - but Rootkit is pretty confident about his ability to summon her again if necessary. More importantly, one or two of his stories had been about things the average, non-ghost-seeing cat could do to ward off spirits.

Rootkit spreads out his supplies, most of which had been scavenged from the medicine cats through a combination of tag-teaming and white lies. The herbs really are going to help his mom, just not in the way Fidgetflake thinks.

Thistledown. Rosemary. Lavender. Thyme. All plants that either attract or repel spirits, according to Tree (from what Rootkit can remember, anyway). Plus a lot of spiderweb.

"Hey, are you sure that's right?" Needlekit asks, leaning over his shoulder. "I thought we were gonna get some sage. And why'd you pick up the thistle?"

Rootkit frowns. "Well, Fidgetflake was coming back too soon and I panicked, alright? If you've got a problem you can get some more yourself."

Needlekit snickers and prods the massive pile of spiderwebs. "No thanks. I think you could've gotten a little more spiderweb, Frecklewish might still have some left over... yeesh, alright, I'll leave off the sarcasm. You don't have to glare at me."

Rootkit rolls his eyes. The immaturity of some cats. "Maybe I went a little overboard, but we need it. Frecklewish can just send the 'paws out to find some more. Now help me apply it; we need to cover the entire cage so there's no chance of getting out."

It's the work of a few minutes to paste it over with cobwebs, and the work of a few more to weave in all the protecting herbs. With luck, they'll prevent her from just phasing through. By the time they're done, it's so dense that a living cat would find it impossible to escape; Rootkit can only hope that the same goes for a dead one.

"Alright, fire 'er up!" Needlekit commands.

Rootkit closes his eyes to focus, trying to recall the feeling of power rushing through his being. Once, Tree had told them of a time when he'd jumped onto a wire fence and been struck by something he'd called electricity- what lightning is made of, apparently. Rootkit imagines it feels something like that.

The power lying dormant in his veins leaps forth eagerly at his call. It swells like a crescendo of sound, rushing out through his paws into the ground.

Rootkit focuses on the grave with every fiber of his being and wills it to summon its spirit. "Russetfur!" he cries out.

For a moment, nothing happens.

Then, something shifts.

It's like a hole is briefly torn through space; instinctively, Rootkit reaches in, grabs something, and drags it through.

Beside him, Needlekit gasps. "What the heck was that?"

But her voice is wavy, distorted. Rootkit opens an eye and finds his world is tilted sideways. Needlekit makes a high pitched noise that scrapes its claws across the most inner parts of Rootkit's ears.

"M'fine," Rootkit mumbles. His words are slurred, he realizes distantly, because half his face is pressed into the dirt.

Needlekit jabs him. "This is no time for sleeping, Rootkit. Did it work?"

Rootkit blinks. For a moment, he has absolutely no idea what she's talking about; then, the memories start to flood back. He narrows his eyes, remembering the feeling of hooking a soul on his clawtips like a fish. "I think-"

He's interrupted by an infuriated caterwaul that drowns out whatever he was going to say.

"What is this?"

The cage shakes as its captive throws her entire weight against the wall, but it holds steady. The herbs have done their job; even a ghost can't pass through.

Needlekit laughs triumphantly. "It's bad kitty jail for bad kitties!"

Russetfur snarls back something absolutely obscene and proceeds to attack the inside of the cage with a ferocious determination. At least, Rootkit thinks she is; it's kind of hard to tell since they can't actually see her.

"Can she get out?" Rootkit wonders.

"No," Needlekit says at the same time Russetfur snaps, "You bet your kittypet hide I will."

Rootkit blinks.

"Literally," Russetfur adds. "Because I'll strip it off your back to line my nest."

"Oh." Rootkit drops his head back on the ground. The dirt here is very comfy, he realizes. Maybe he should just sleep here from now on. "Yeah. That was kind of unclear."

"It'll become very clear in a few minutes, runt. I'll even give you a demonstration."

Needlekit leans against the cage with a smirk that probably would have been infuriating, if Russetfur could actually see it. "Don't worry, Redpelt, you're clear as crystal."

Rootkit freezes. Even the scraping sounds coming from inside the cage cut off. "What was that," Russetfur says suspiciously. "Did you just-"

"Keep your spirits up," Needlekit says. "I'm sure you'll be back to your old haunting grounds in no time."

Rootkit tries to slam his head into the ground and discovers that it's really much harder to do when you're already lying on it.

Russetfur doesn't say anything.

"What's wrong, ghostie? You're as silent as the dead in there."

Then a translucent ear rises out of the ground right next to Rootkit's face and he screams loud enough to be heard halfway to Riverclan, probably, and scrambles out of the way. Needlekit screams, too, and then Russetfur is climbing out of the ground like a corpse emerging from its grave.

She shakes herself off and grins down at them with more teeth than a cat should rightfully have. "You forgot to ward the bottom," she says. Rootkit makes a very small sound that definitely qualifies as a whimper. "What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."

All the fur on Needlekit's body has bushed out so she looks twice her size - which, compared to the full-grown warrior before them, is almost nothing. She's shaking like a leaf, but undaunted, she spits at Russetfur's feet. "Drop dead!"

Rootkit could kill her.

In a blur of movement, Russetfur pins Needlekit to the cage wall with one paw. "I admire your spirit, kit," she hisses. "But if you want to sass me, you're digging your own grave."

That's it. Rootkit has had enough. That is the final stars-damned straw. "Shut up with the stupid ghost puns, I swear to Starclan," Rootkit screams.

The wind rustles gently in the treetops as the two she-cats stare at him.

"The next person to make a single stars-cursed ghost pun, I am going to snap your fleabitten neck. Is that clear?"

Needlekit makes a stifled noise muted by the heavy paw slowly crushing her windpipe.

"Ah." Russetfur looks to be considering it. "Would you say we're dead m-"

Rootkit makes a very aggressive series of throat-slitting gestures.

"...you've got your father's spirit in you, I see."

"I brought you into this world and I can take you out of it," Rootkit snarls.

That gets her attention. Russetfur's eyes widen, then narrow. "Oh?" Her voice is considerably less friendly.

This is where it gets tricky. Rootkit's at a disadvantage - he's just seriously ticked off a relatively powerful ghost with a grudge against his relatively powerless clan, she's got his sister by the throat, and his only bargaining chip is a bluff. But there's an opportunity somewhere here; he just has to navigate a very prickly, very dangerous minefield and pray he doesn't blow them all up.

Time to channel his inner Tree. "Look," Rootkit says, in his best diplomat voice. "Clearly, we both want something here, something that we can provide for each other. What do you say we make a deal?"

Russetfur narrows her eyes and tightens her grip on Needlekit. "I don't think you're in a position to bargain, here," she says.

"On the contrary." Rootkit raises a paw. "I am in every position to offer a deal... as you just experienced yourself."

Russetfur scoffs. "What could you possibly have to offer me?"

"Your life."

That gives her pause. "If you could exorcise me, you'd have done it already."

Rootkit gives his best imitation of her knife-sharp smile and proceeds to lie through his teeth. "What do you think we were doing just now?"

The ghost narrows her eyes and says nothing.

Rootkit seizes his opportunity and plows onward. "You don't want to be exorcised, and we don't want you in our camp. So here's the deal - you leave and we don't follow." The last few words are growled out, like Leafstar whenever someone threatens the clan.

It's very intimidating, in his opinion, but it doesn't seem to have an effect in Russetfur. If anything, it only seems to make her angrier. "I won't sacrifice my honor as a Shadowclan cat to run from a bunch of kittypets," Russetfur snarls, leaning closer. "Even if you kill me again, I'd sooner die fighting for my clan than kowtow to some coddled housepets."

Rootkit grits his teeth. She hasn't called his bluff, but they can't have her running loose and hurting people. Think, Rootkit! "Another deal, then," he says. "If you won't leave the camp, then you just can't hurt anybody."

"No deal," Russetfur snaps.

"That's the final offer," Rootkit says coldly. "Under no circumstances are you allowed to hurt or injure any Skyclan cats. I'm not going to compromise on that point. And you can't really afford to bargain, anyway," he adds with a shrug. His heart is pounding so loudly he's almost sure Russetfur can hear it. "If you don't, I'll just summon you into the cage again and exorcise you for good. Or who knows? Maybe we'll leave you in there for a while. And this time we'll cover the bottom." He finishes with the nastiest, most hateful smile he can muster - which isn't particularly difficult, right now.

Russetfur goes silent. He can practically hear the gears in her brain ticking as she weighs her options. There's clearly only one real option here; he just hopes she isn't too prideful to take it.

"Fine," Russetfur growls, voice so low he has to strain to hear it. "Fine. I agree to your terms." The hatred seeping from her voice is almost palpable.

Well, the feeling is absolutely mutual. Rootkit dips into a little bow and bares his fangs in a farce of a smile. "Pleasure doing business with you."

Russetfur disappears into the air, leaving Needlekit to slump to the ground, wheezing. Rootkit waits until he's certain the ghost is gone before sinking onto the ground himself, body shaking with all the fear he couldn't allow himself to show before. Holy crap.

"Are you," Needlekit begins, then cuts herself off with a raucous bout of coughs that makes him wince. "Are you... okay?" she whispers hoarsely.

Rootkit makes a high-pitched, keening noise before breaking into nervous laughter. "No, no, not even a little bit. Oh, Starclan, I can't believe I'm alive, I thought she was going to kill us both. Oh stars..." he trails off with a giggle and buries his face in the dirt.

They lie there for a couple minutes, the silence broken only by Needlekit's wheezing and Rootkit's trembling.

"I want Mom and Dad," Needlekit whispers.

Rootkit couldn't agree more.

[livesincerely]

it’s so easy (too easy) to love you, ch. 1

Also on Ao3

00000

Davey’s just gotten out of class—literally just walked out the door—when his phone starts ringing.

“Davey,” Tony says the moment he answers, not even giving Davey time to say hello, “can you swing by the apartment real quick?”

Davey sighs. “Are you locked out of the house again?”

There’s a guilty silence. Then, “Or maybe I just wanna see you, huh? You don’t know.”

“Tony.”

“Charlie’s the one that lost the spare,” Tony capitulates immediately, there’s an indignant “Hey!” somewhere in the background, “and I left my keys in my locker ‘cause I thought Charlie had his—”

There’s a scuffle of noise, then Charlie’s voice breaks in, “—don’t listen to him Davey, I asked him before we even got on the subway if he had his keys and he said he did but he didn’t even check—”

“—well, I thought you had yours, didn’t I?—”

“—and he was twenty minutes late picking me up from band practice because he was too busy making out with Spot Conlon to come help me carry my stuff—”

“—that was supposed to be a secret you little shit!”

“—you started it!”

Davey pulls the phone away from his ear as the other side of the line descends into a mess of indistinct yelling. He thinks about trying to get their attention, but he decides to just start heading towards the apartment, muting his side of the call while he waits them out—they’ll remember him eventually.

In the meantime, Davey sends a quick text:

Tony and Charlie locked themselves out of the house again

He’s not expecting a response, but Jack must be in-between projects because he gets one almost immediately.

jc again?

And you’re going to have to get a new spare made

fuck okay i’ll take care of it. are you heading over?

I’m walking there now

ur the light of my life dave

Davey can’t help but smile at this, a soft feeling fluttering in his chest. Before he can write back, Jack sends another text:

how did ur midterm go?

I feel good about it! Def did better than I thought it would!

duh youve been living in the library all week ofc ur gonna do great. ill swing by the grocery omw home and pick up some ice cream to celebrate. do we need anything else while im there?

Get a bell pepper and some tomato paste, I’m going to make spaghetti for dinner. And we need more laundry detergent.

fuck yes im starving! can we do garlic bread too?

Come home on time and we’ll see.

u drive a hard bargain. kerian owes me a favor so he can stay late tonight lol

“Davey?” The sound of Charlie’s voice, tinny and muffled, prompts Davey to lift his phone back to his ear; it seems like he might’ve been calling Davey’s name for a while. “Are you still there?”

“I’m still here,” Davey confirms.

“So are ya comin’ or what?” Tony cuts in, ever impatient. “I’m roasting out here!”

“Well, I was thinking about leaving you to ruminate on your poor life choices,” Davey responds dryly, “but I guess I can come let you in, since you asked so nicely.”

“Thanks, Davey,” Charlie says.

“I’ll be there soon,” Davey confirms.

“Hurry, will ya? Much longer and I’m gonna get heatstroke and die,” Tony declares.

Davey rolls his eyes. “Goodbye, Tony.”

00000

When he arrives at Jack’s building some twenty minutes later, Davey finds Tony and Charlie right where he expects them: crowded together in the little bit of shade the roof’s overhang offers, wearing identical grumpy expressions that brighten immediately when they spot him approaching.

"Finally!" Tony exclaims, shooting to his feet. "What took you so long?"

“Stop losing your keys and you won’t have to wait for me,” Davey counters, slotting his key into the deadbolt and hefting open the heavy exterior door. He props it open with his hip and lets Tony and Charlie scurry past him into the AC. “You couldn’t get anyone to buzz you in?”

“Old Man Davis hasn’t gotten his hearing aid replaced yet,” Charlie explains as they climb the stairs up to the second floor, “and Mrs. Ikeda isn’t home.”

“She joined a new book club,” Tony adds. “She won’t be back till late.”

“Oh, I’ll have to ask her about it when I see her next,” Davey muses.

He gets the apartment door unlocked and the boys pile inside, tossing their backpacks down with dramatic groans of relief.  Charlie makes a beeline for his bedroom; Davey expects Tony to do the same but he takes a seat at the kitchen table instead, booting up his laptop with a couple of keystrokes.

“I’ve got a paper due in English tomorrow,” Tony explains. “Can you look it over once it’s finished? Maybe later this evening”

“Of course,” Davey replies. “What’s it on?”

“Lord of the Flies.”

Davey’s nose wrinkles up. “Oh, I hated that one. What’s the essay prompt?”

“Identify Golding’s argument about human nature as proposed in Lord of the Flies,” Tony reads off the top of the assignment outline. “Then make an argument agreeing or disagreeing with his assessment, using evidence from the text.”

Davey rolls his eyes. “Good to see that high school literature classes haven’t changed much in the last few years,” he says with a sigh. “How much have you written so far?”

“Oh, I haven’t even started it yet,” Tony casually rebuts.

“Is everything going okay?” Davey asks, frowning slightly. “If things are getting worse we can make an appointment—”

But Tony waives his concerns aside. “Nah, this is regular old procrastination, not ADHD procrastination. Like ya said, Lord of the Flies sucks ass, so I just didn’t want to write it.”

“Well, let one of us know if you start having trouble,” Davey says.

"Okay, mom,” Tony agrees, somewhat distracted. He’s already got a blank document pulled up on his laptop, a battered and thoroughly dog-eared copy of the book laying open beside him.

Davey looks at him for another moment, then he shrugs and continues making his way into the kitchen—he figures there’s no need to worry unless Racer starts actually missing assignments. And he’s right: Lord of the Flies does suck ass.

By the time Jack gets home they’re each fully entrenched in different activities: Davey’s washed a sink full of dishes and is working on drying the last few pieces of silverware, Tony is still posted up at the kitchen table, carefully hammering out a draft of his paper, and there are the familiar sounds of Charlie working through different musical scales on his oboe in the back bedroom.

“Honey, I’m home!” Jack calls jokingly as he enters. There’s a rustle of plastic and soft thunk of the front door closing behind him, then he comes around the corner into the dining room with an armful of groceries.

“Hey, Jack,” Davey greets absently. He starts rifling through the bags almost before Jack can finish putting them down. “Did you get the tomato—?”

“I got the tomato paste,” Jack says, kicking off his shoes and leaving them in the entryway with all the others, “and I picked up some more of that fancy coffee you like from the place around the corner, even though it’s expensive as all hell.”

“Don’t judge me,” Davey replies, gathering up an armful of vegetables and carrying them further into the kitchen. “You spend a semester grading 'Intro to Shakespeare' homework and tell me how much caffeine you consume.”

“I’m just saying, the rest of us schmucks drink regular coffee and do just fine,” Jack continues. “You can feed your crippling caffeine addiction just as well with Folgers and it’ll cut down on the grocery bill.”

“Watch it, Kelly,” Davey says, pointing a finger teasingly in Jack’s direction. “Smartasses don’t get dinner.”

“‘s that so?” Jack asks with a grin. “Then why the hell are we still feeding Tony?”

“I heard that,” Tony grumbles from the kitchen table.

“Yeah, you were supposed to,” Jack says, moving over to Tony and slinging an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a side hug. Tony bats at Jack’s hand but makes no real attempt to get away. Then Jack says, “So, I hear you and your brother lost another set of keys.”

Tony throws Davey a look of the deepest betrayal. “You told Jack?”

“Of course he did,” Jack says. “Someone’s gonna have to get new ones made, and it sure ain’t gonna be either half of the dynamic duo.”

“Charlie lost the spare,” Tony says, mercilessly throwing Charlie under the bus while he’s not in the room to defend himself. “And I didn’t lose my keys, I just left them in my locker.”

“Uh huh, save it for the judge,” Jack responds, ruffling Tony’s hair. “Just know if I end up having to change the deadbolt, it’s coming outta your subway money.”

“Jackie, leave Tony alone,” Davey comments mildly over Tony’s spluttering protests. “He needs to work on that paper and you’re distracting him.”

“Yeah, Jack,” Tony repeats, a little smug. “You’re distracting me.”

Davey turns to look at him, one eyebrow raised. Tony quickly busies himself with his homework.

Davey makes quick work of washing a green pepper and peeling an onion, then starts dicing both into small, neat pieces. He feels more than hears Jack sidle up behind him: the familiar weight of his gaze, the solid presence at his back. He stands there quietly, leaning against the counter-top and just watching Davey cook; unbothered, Davey leaves him be for the moment and moves to the stove, scraping the chopped vegetables off the cutting board and into a pan to start softening.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Davey glances over his shoulder at Jack and says, “Are you just going to stand there or are you going to help me with this? You know there’s no loitering in my kitchen.”

“Well, I’m nothin’ if not a law abidin’ citizen,” Jack drawls in answer, the corner of his mouth quirking up. He rolls up his shirt sleeves, exposing the long, muscular line of his forearms, and washes his hands in the kitchen sink. “Where do you want me?”

Davey licks his lips. “Think you can handle browning the hamburger?”

“I’m sure I can manage,” Jack responds with a smirk.

Davey steps out of the way, letting Jack take his place in front of the sauce pan while he gets a pot of water set up on a different burner, salting it so it boils faster. They settle into their familiar dinner-routine, moving around and past each other with ease as they work on getting everything ready, chattering idly all the while.

“I’ve gotta head back out this evening,” Jack says at one point, as he sets the tray of garlic bread in the oven to toast. “Johnson’s got me working a night shoot and I have to be downtown by 9.”

“How long is the session?” Davey asks. “Here, will you open this?”

“We’re scheduled for five hours, but we might get to wrap it up early if everything goes well.” Jack’s hand brushes against the small of Davey’s back and they trade places again, Davey stepping back up to the stove-top and Jack rifling around in one of the drawers for a can opener.

“Are ya spendin’ the night or are ya headin’ back to campus?”

“Depends on how much help Tony needs with his paper,” Davey replies, shaking his head. He takes the can when Jack hands it back to him and empties it into the saucepan, then gives the whole thing a good stir. “We might be at it a while.”

Jack huffs out a laugh. “Well, if you do spend the night, go ahead and take the bed. The extra blankets are in the usual place.”

Davey sets down the spoon he’s holding, crossing his arms across his chest. “Jack,” he says warningly.

“Davey,” Jack echoes back in the exact same tone of voice. In the background there’s the faint sound of Tony muttering, “Jesus, not this again.”

“Jack, I’m not gonna kick you out of your bed,” Davey says, rehashing the same old argument for what feels like the millionth time. “I’m perfectly fine taking the couch.”

“Or you could do the smart thing and just take the bed,” Jack counters as he always does. “I’m not even gonna be here to use it.”

“You’ll want an actual mattress when you get home, especially if you’re out late.” Davey argues. “I don’t even have class tomorrow, it’ll be fine.”

“If you don’t take the bed I’ll just carry you in there once I get back,” Jack says, as if that's a perfectly reasonable course of action. “So you might as well save me the trouble.”

Davey sputters. “That’s not— You can’t just— That only happened a couple of times!” he finally gets out.

"Well, actually, it's been more like four or five times," Jack says with a smirk. "But hey, who's counting?"

"That trick won't keep working," Davey grumbles, feeling the back of his neck start to heat up.

“You sleep like a fucking rock, Dave,” Jack says, rolling his eyes. “Why wouldn’t it keep working?”

“No, see, that’s exactly why I should take the couch,” Davey insists. “It’s not like the sound of you coming in will wake me up—”

Jack turns to face him. Davey cuts off, slightly startled—he hadn’t realized they were standing so close to each other.

“Just take the bed, Davey,” Jack all but orders, and those dark eyes with that low voice are a heady combination. “Please?”

Davey bites at his lower lip, suddenly flustered. “Fine,” he reluctantly concedes, hoping Jack will attribute his flushed face to the heat of the kitchen. “Just this once.”

"Thank you," Jack says with a dramatic heave of his chest, looking much too pleased with himself. "Now that wasn't so hard, was it?"

"You're letting the garlic bread burn," Davey answers tartly.

"Oh shit—!"

00000

Later that evening, after they’ve all finished eating and have cleaned up, Davey, Tony, and Charlie are still gathered around the table, working on various assignments.

Davey is finishing the readings for his Monday lecture in between helping Tony finalize the exact wording of his essay. Charlie sits opposite him, working through his geometry homework and every so often there’s a huff of breath and the rubbery scratch of an eraser—Davey makes a mental note to swipe some more pencils and notebook paper from the grad lounge when he’s there next.

Davey notices the time and frowns. “Jack,” he calls out, “it’s already 7:30. If you don’t leave soon you’re gonna be late for work.”

There’s a clamor of noise from down the hall, then Jack appears, freshly showered and fumbling to put on his socks and button up a clean shirt at the same time.

“Fuck, Johnson is gonna kill me,” Jack grumbles. He pats down his pockets, then groans. “Christ, has anyone seen my—”

“Your wallet and keys are on the counter by the microwave,” Davey says, pointing. “And take a jacket, it’s supposed to rain later.”

“Great, I’m sure the models will love that,” Jack says with a groan. “Hopefully we’ll be able to get through everything without getting rained out.”

He meanders his way over to the table, peering at Charlie’s homework from over his shoulder. “If Tony is still busy and ya get stuck, text me,” Jack tells him. “I probably won't be able to answer right away, but if ya send me a picture of the problem I can probably talk ya through it between shots.”

Charlie hums his acknowledgment, still scribbling furiously. Jack turns to Tony.

“Listen to whatever Davey tells you about your paper,” he advises. “The only reason I got through undergraduate writing was ‘cause Davey proofread all my shit before I turned it in.”

“I thought I was s’pposed to always listen to Davey,” Tony says distractedly, tongue poking out between his teeth as he types.

Jack pauses, considering. “Yeah, just do that.”

“Jack—”

“Oh, and Dave cooked, so you shitheads better do the dishes, get me?”

“Jack, you’re gonna be late,” Davey cuts in firmly, holding out Jack’s jacket for him.

“Alright, I’m going,” Jack says, shrugging it on, and he finally starts making moves towards the door.

He gives Charlie one last pat on the shoulder and cuffs Tony lightly across the back of the head in a slightly rougher, but no less affectionate goodbye, which is per usual. Then he turns to Davey, tips his chin up, and kisses him right on the mouth, short and sweet.

“Lock the door behind me and don’t forget to—” Jack stops mid-sentence, then turns bright red.

“Um,” says Charlie.

“Holy shit,” says Tony.

Jack’s mouth opens and closes soundlessly. Finally, he stammers out, “I u-uh— I-I d-didn’t mean—“

Davey doesn’t respond. He couldn’t, even if he wanted to—he’s frozen in place, his mind a sudden wash of static. For a moment, they just stare at each other. Then Jack blurts, “gottagoseeyoulaterbye,” and bolts out the front door.

Davey’s not sure how long he stands there, staring blankly into space, utterly dumbfounded.

“Davey?” Charlie asks hesitantly. “Are you okay?”

There’s a strangled, choking noise. A split second later, Davey realizes it’s coming from him.

"...What just happened?"

[beeclaws]

for prompts um.. aizawa learning about ofa but in like a painful way? in a 'im telling you this because i have no choice/we're gonna die anyway so what does it matter' way? maybe? i also just want... people realizing that deku had a Hard Time and because of that its hard for him to really be like. thoroughly happy. he's so passively suicidal it hurts lol!

content warning for descriptions of serious injuries

Shouta is aware of how fast things can turn bad. USJ had gone from a training exercise to a desperate struggle to preserve 20 lives in a matter of seconds. 

So, he isn’t exactly surprised when he wakes from unconsciousness chained to a wall, still-blurred vision scanning the room - some kind of basement, two masked men, Midoriya chained up on the same wall. That suggests a lack of knowledge, that maybe they’d expected Shouta to be alone and grabbed the kid as a bonus, because chains aren’t exactly-

As if he’s brought it into being with the thought, power crackles along his student’s arms and the chains holding Midoriya break with an oddly-muted crack. Midoriya jumps to his feet, spinning the momentum straight into a kick that launches one of the men across the room. The other, instead of backing away from the 16-year-old explosion of power they’ve clearly vastly underestimated, steps in closer, and Shouta activates erasure with a lurch of panic in his gut.

Then, everything goes oddly still. Midoriya and the captor still on his feet just stand there, at an angle where Shouta can’t see what’s happened to make them stop. The man takes one step back, and still Midoriya just stands there, suspended, angled too far away for Shouta to be able to see his expression.

What he can see is the man in the corner starting to recover from the blow, dragging himself up - then stopping with pure panic in his eyes when he sees Midoriya. He bolts for the stairs, the other man backs up another step, and finally Shouta can see the knife embedded in his student’s abdomen.

When things go bad, it happens fast. So fast it feels like time is slipping away, like he’s moving in slow motion compared to the rest of the world. Both men are bolting now, clearly in over their heads, leaving Shouta still chained up with a kid with a stab wound. 

“Leave the keys!” Shouta yells after them, venom mixing with pure panic. “Call for help!”

He activates erasure even though neither of them seem to be using quirks to escape, just trying to have any impact at all, take something away from them. If this is remorse, it’s worse than useless. Corrupt enough that cut holes in one of his kids, cowardly enough to run without letting them out first. 

Midoriya turns to face him, eyes wide. “Midoriya,” Shouta says, pieces clicking into place in his mind - his primary obstacle is a set of chains, and his only asset is a student who’s just proved he can break them without an issue. If only he weren’t hurt, bleeding and confused. “It’s going to be okay. You just have to-no, don’t.” Shouta interrupts himself as he sees one of Midoriya’s hands hover in the air by the knife. “Don’t take it out. It’s slowing the bleeding.”

Midoriya obeys all too easily, face unmarred by pain - just blank shock, and a hint of helplessness that looks strange on a student who so rarely asks for help with anything. 

“It’s going to be okay,” Shouta says again. “If you can break the chains, I can get you out of here and we can find help.”

“Okay,” Midoriya says, voice choked and young. He takes one step towards Shouta before collapsing, finally crying out as he goes, but thankfully the angle of his fall takes him close enough to Shouta.

“Alright,” Shouta says, trying to keep the anguish out of his voice. If time is going slowly for him, he can only imagine how it feels for Midoriya, drifting in that timeless haze of agony. He needs to be clear and calm. He wants to believe one of those terrified men called an ambulance, but he’s lived too long to have faith in that kind of mercy. Clear, calm and fast. 

Shouta wraps his hands around Midoriya’s, moves them to the chains on the wall and tries to help him get a grip. “Just one push, okay?” Shouta says. “Then we’ll get out of here.”

Midoriya shuts his eyes, and for an awful moment Shouta thinks he’s losing him - then his quirk comes to life, haltingly, the bright patterns on his skin skipping and lurching as if afraid. Usually, Midoriya’s control is such that his quirk seems to become active through his whole body at once, but now the glow starts at his chest and spirals out erratically - then it reaches his abdomen and he yelps, the light blinking out, hands falling to press down around the knife.

“Alright, alright,” Shouta murmurs. There’s blood spreading through the kid’s T-shirt. He’s taking short, stuttering breaths.

“Sorry,” Midoriya mumbles.

“Stay with me, kid,” Shouta says, taking his hand again. The chains clink as he moves, and god, Shouta would give every second he has left just to break that metal. “Try again.”

Midoriya obediently, painstakingly calls on his quirk again and gives a hard shove at the place where the chains meet the wall, but that little bit of movement causes him to let out a breathless scream and fall back. Shouta has to reach out his chained arms just to keep him from collapsing all the way down onto his back. Instantly, his hands are warm and wet; there’s blood at Midoriya’s back, too. 

This can’t be happening. His student can’t be about to die because of two inches of metal. This bright, wonderful person can’t be about to die in his arms.

“It- it hurts,” Midoriya murmurs, leaning on him. “I can- I can feel the knife moving.”

“I know, I know,” Shouta says. “But we need to get you help. It’s either you make it up the stairs-”

Midoriya gives a panicked groan, shaking his head frantically.

“Or you break the chains and I carry you out. You can do this. I promise you can do this.”

Midoriya nods, tears gathering in his eyes, but several panicked breaths later and he hasn’t moved. 

“Take a breath,” Shouta insists, quiet but firm, “then try again. Try to concentrate your quirk just where you need it.”

“It’s…it’s called One For All,” Midoriya says, tipping back a little in Shouta’s clumsy hold. “All Might gave it to me.”

Time slips away again, or something like it. There’s blood on the shackles on Shouta’s wrists. They look at each other, and even through the pain Midoriya seems to be searching his face for something.

“I wanted to tell you,” he adds, then slips back a little further and yelps in pain. Shouta is holding him up as best he can, but it still takes abdominal muscles to hold yourself in that kind of position - and every contraction of those muscles risks jostling the blade. He can’t die like this. He just can’t.

“Midoriya, please,” Shouta says. He doesn’t think his voice holds steady. Shouta has seen victims of stab wounds before, has been the victim of stab wounds before, and so he can’t avoid the knowledge that these minutes of coherency are numbered. As sure as up is up and down is down, soon enough shock and blood loss will render Midoriya unable to listen to what he’s saying, let alone use his quirk. If he hasn’t broken the chains by then - and if neither of those monsters called for an ambulance… “Please, kid. There isn’t anything else I can do. It has to be you, and it has to be now.”

“S-sorry,” Midoriya says, shutting his eyes for another heartstopping moment. He opens them and there’s a shred of his old determination shining there. “Sorry I caused you so much trouble.”

He moves his hands and before Shouta can register what he’s going to do, he’s clutching the hilt of the knife and pulling it out, activating his quirk in the next second and shoving forward to punch at the root of the chains. Finally, finally, they break, and Shouta is gathering Midoriya up in his arms and trying to put pressure on the wound at the same time, sprinting for the stairs.

“You did it, you did it, I’ve got you,” Shouta mutters, barely taking in his own words, and as he reaches the top of the stairs he hears the distant sound of sirens.

...

Hours later, in the grey light and never-quite-quiet of the hospital Shouta has refused to leave, he sits side by side with a silent Yagi, letting Inko Midoriya have some privacy with her son even if the doctors don’t think he’ll be waking up any time soon. 

Shouta has had a lot of time to think, and mostly hasn’t done so. He won’t really be able to think until he sees his student alive, moving, talking again. 

What few thoughts he has managed are shards of memory. A student who works harder than anyone, but came into high school with hardly any control over his quirk, the foundation most aspiring heroes start from. And Yagi, hiding off to the side, watching over his class’s first training session. Like he had a personal stake. 

Shouta doesn’t pry into students’ lives for the sake of it. He and Nedzu have disagreed a couple of times over the level of surveillance UA should aim for when it comes to students, especially now that the dorm system had been implemented. But he can’t help a kid he doesn’t understand. He can’t help Midoriya recover from anaesthesia any faster, but he can try and understand the missing piece connecting Midoriya to Yagi.

“So,” Shouta says, voice flat. “One For All.”

Yagi sits up straighter. “He told you?” 

“He was scared,” Shouta says. He was dying, he doesn’t say, because he isn’t, he didn’t. 

“It’s…his story to tell, now,” Yagi says, and there’s a discomfort there that almost makes Shouta smile.

“Sure,” he says. “Delay the inevitable.” Shouta shakes his head. “That kid’s braver than you.”

“I know,” Yagi says simply, and a quick scan of his expression shows Shouta that he isn’t joking. 

Shouta thinks they’re done, but Yagi turns to face him, solemn and sincere. “Thank you,” he says. “Thank you for getting him out of there alive.”

Shouta gives a short nod. “He did it himself.”

Yagi smiles. “You should get used to being thanked. I’m sure young Midoriya will be very grateful when he wakes.”

“Delaying the inevitable,” Shouta murmurs, slumping back in his chair, letting his eyes fall shut trying not to see echoes of the night’s horrors reflected in the dark.

[giogio-gucci-gangstar]

Eskimo Kisses: Bruno x reader

CW: nsfw, Bruno’s being adorable and awkward

————————

Bruno had his legs wrapped around you as you leaned on his side. You ran your finger through his silky black hair and carefully remove his clips, tracing all of those delicately woven strands around his face.

You froze.

“What” he asked cocking his head to the side a bit.

“You’re staring” you chuckled a bit, pushing a strand of your own hair behind your ear.

“I suppose I am.” He confessed and leaned in

tword your face. Your heart fluttered and you closed your eyes waiting for-

A peck on the nose. He kissed your nose.

You open your eyes to see his face right in front of you, noses still touching, his sapphire blue eyes still boring into yours.

You giggled softly before brushing your nose against his, “What was that?”

“A kiss?” He stated simply as if that wasn’t obvious.

“On the nose?” You giggled a bit louder.

Now he looked a little taken aback, as if you had hurt his feelings.

“Oh no no no! I liked it, just wasn’t ah expecting it you know?” His apprehension seemed to ease a little as you cupped his face with your hand and placed a gentle kiss on his nose.

His lips spread into a bashful grin bringing his face against yours. You stayed that way for seconds, minutes, it was hard to tell, before your breathes synched up and you sat there breathing each other in.

You tilted your head up and crashed your lips against his. Crashing, that’s exactly what it was like as his lips didn’t budge from a puckered expression as he wrapped his hands in your hair pressing you against him.

You certainly wouldn’t call yourself experienced, but you had kissed a few men before and this usually wasn’t how it happened.

You opened your eyes briefly, to spare a peak at the capo before you. His eyes were shut and his eye brows thoroughly knitted together, affection painted clearly across his face and in his gentle, if erratic, motions.

You softened to his touch, this was the gentle man you loved. The thought that he would be inexperienced had never crossed your mind. He was so shockingly beautiful and kind, you couldn’t imagine a world where both men and women three themselves at his feet.

You sighed against his lips, thinking about how lucky you were that he showed this unkempt and vulnerable side of himself to you.

At your sigh his eyes fluttered open and his lips quirk to the side in a smirk. You keep your eyes locked with his as you trace his open mouth with your tongue. Dragging it across his lips then up up across his nose.

He tips his head back laughing with such a pure and uninhibited affection that you ache with adoration.

He brings his face to yours again, pressing his cheek to yours so you can feel his breathe in your ear.

“Do it again” he whispers. A shudder runs down your body as you bring both hands to cup the sides of his face bringing your lips together again.

You softly kiss his lips again, and brave a little nip on his plush lower lip. His breath hitches with a small moan. You take this as a sign to take things a little further. You slip your tongue between his lips, a little exploratory motion, as he sighs into your mouth.

Then he meets suddenly meets your tongue with his. Swirling around it with such precision and passion you’re taken aback as a rather large moan escapes. You can feel his rakish grin against your lips as he pushes forward with a new enthusiasm.

You pull apart from him, just centimeters so you can mumble a few very crucial words, “may I take your shirt off?”

“Of course” and he kissed you again but helps you shirk off his jacket.

Only to reveal a VERY deep cut shirt on underneath. You pull his arms above his head, squeezing him out of his shirt to reveal his signature bralette.

“How many layers do you have on!” You giggled pressing your face into the crook of his neck.

“Just the three” he mumbled into your hair as you fingered the bottom of his intricately laced bralette. Pulling it gently and letting it snap back to his skin.

“Ah...” he breathed and pulled a way for a moment, “the bralette stays on.”

You huff a little giggle as you kissed him again. His hands gliding down from the sides of your face and down to your hips. Then down to your thighs where he fingered the hem of your dress.

You match his gesture and trace your fingers down his muscular chest and down his abdomen.

At that he violently flinches back coughing.

“OH MY GOD IM SO SORRY! WHAT DID I DO ARE YOU OKAY?” You hurl dozens of questions at him as he slowly recovers from his coughing fit.

“Bella you did nothing. Your fingers are just absolutely freezing!”

You curl them against your face and mumble, “they don’t feel that cold to me...”

“Well you’re not the one feeling them” he points out as he holds your hands in his, gently rubbing them together to warm them up a bit.

“There we go!” He exclaimed releasing your hands, then with a smirk quickly guiding them back down his stomach.

You continued stroking and rubbing your hands on his defined abs, and he resumed his place rolling the hem of your dress in his fingers.

“You can take it off” you insist, whatcha gonna Bruno’s face blush slightly.

“I was asking for permission” he whispered nearly inaudibly into your neck. You giggle, again, and help him slide the dress over your head.

His eyes glazed over and his mouth dropped when he saw you nearly naked before him. He kissed you with renewed vigor and he laid you down and scooted until he was perched upon your hips.

He left a trail of delicate kisses down your neck and to the top of your plump breasts. He pulled the strap of your bra, allowing it to snap back against your skin.

“Are you asking for permission again?” You asked innocently enough. His eyes perked up and he nodded enthusiastically. You reached around your back, skillfully unhooking the clips, and threw it to the floor.

He took a breast in each hand, gently cupping them with his fingers. He squeezed softly, watching how your skin looked and rose in his hands. You looked up at him to see an expression of awe, but he was too absorbed in the task at hand to meet your eyes.

He tentatively dragged a thumb across your nipple. Feeling you tremble beneath him in excitement at the touch, he bent down and gave a quick kiss to your sensitive nipple and grinned. He did the same to the other and repeated so until his lips traveled to the canyon between your breasts.

With a hand on each, he squeezed your supple breasts against his face. A suffocated moan escaped his mouth (and your tits) as he bucked against you.

Your breath hitched and you pulled his ace up to kiss you as you started to undo his pants. He closed his eyes and shivered at the way your fingers grazed over his clothed, but still extremely hard, cock.

You undid the top button, then let your fingers fall to tickle his balls still wrapped up in pants and underwear. He started to tremble and sputter noises of excitement as you slid his pants off him, one leg at a time.

You looked at the masterpiece in front of you, an uncut above average sized cock, throbbing against his abdomen in a lacy thong that matched his bralette. His flushed head throbbed against the lace, struggling to be let out.

“Lay down” you whispered, your mouth already drooling from want. He obeyed, quickly pulling you into of him.

You slid yourself down his body, peppering his covered chest and muscles abs with kisses, then dragged a long lick to the base of his thong. He was already squirming and huffing as you slid his panties off.

You placed a gentle kiss to the top of his head, then quickly licked up the drops of precum that were already leaking out of him.

“May I blow you” you asked, batting your eyelashes up at him, already knowing the answer, but loving how flustered your touch made the usually well kept mafia man.

“Ah, if you want to?” He stuttered, barely able to open his eyes as he spoke.

“Would you like me to?” You asked, just wanting to make sure it was something he was alright with. He was clearly quite stimulated and you didn’t want to push any boundaries.

He all but cut you off he answered in the affirmative so quickly. Good, you thought, licking your lips.

You started, caressing his balls in your hands as you lazily drew your tongue up and down the shaft of his cock. You wanted to feel every vein, every twitch of him, to engrain it in your memory.

You place a lick on the top of his head then blow a quick breathe on it, causing him to shiver at the coldness. But still his cock bounced in the air.

You figured he was going to come quickly so you wanted to prolong your fun a little bit more. You placed a hand on his shaft and started slowly pumping while your mouth focused on his balls. You liked and kissed every inch of each one. Then suddenly you popped both of them in your mouth, swirling them around with your tongue.

A huge gasp came from above you, as Bruno shot up from his laying position.

“Oh god what happened are you alright did I bite you??” You stammer, assuming the worst.

“No, no, it feel quite good. Too good. Maybe too much of a good thing?” He rambled.

You were still confused, and it must have shown on your face because he hung his head, faced covered by his raven hair, and muttered, “if you keep doing that I’ll come in seconds.”

“Ah, alright. Well go a bit slower then?” You prompted and he answered with a knowing smile as he laid back down.

You stroked him a few more times, heart still pounding from fear that you had hurt your kind man, but finally caught his cock in your mouth.

You kissed and swirled your tongue against him slowly, your ministrations met with a chorus of his moans and gasps.

You felt your clit throb and a bit of your juices trickle down out of your panties. If he kept this up you were going to cum without ever feeling him inside you.

You, gently, fondle his balls in one hand as you prepare to take the length of him down your throat. You slide him in, careful to avoid any teeth, and wrap your lips around his base.

Your actions are met with a deep groan and a few bucks into your throat as he crushes handfuls of the pillows beneath him.

You pump him up and down a few times inside him and he moans again, to which you hum in satisfaction.

This pulls him over the edge and he grunts a few times before barely managing to force out “I-I’m coming”. His long member reaches the back of your throat, and you nearly gag, but you feel the sprays of his thick cum coating the back of your throat and you want to savor the taste of him. You moan as he continues to come, more than you thought possible, but you keep swallowing, happy to take any and every part of him.

He shivered and pulls you up to him wrapping his arms around you so tightly. He nestled his head in your hair and muttered praises and thanks and I love you’s into your ears.

He leaned his head against your chest, using your breasts as pillows. Like before, he pulled the other ones across his face, and nestled himself between them. Every once in a while you would feel an exhale escape.

“C-can you breathe down there?” You asked concerned.

He resurfaced only for a moment to respond, “sometimes” then dove back down. You pulled him up slowly, and placed a kiss on his nose. He quickly returned it, and you two fell asleep nosed touching.

[jackiejacks923]

A Story to Tell the Kids

Prompt: “It’s the wrong color.” - @challengingwords​

Pairing: Shownu x reader feat. Minhyuk, Hyungwon & IM

A/N: So I somehow accidentally made a series without even realizing that I did...lol. My brain surprises me sometimes. In this story, we revisit the world of the Chang siblings that were introduced in an earlier fic. Check the masterlist for the corresponding stories. I’ll be updating that soon. I hope you enjoy <3

------------

“Uncle Min!” you heard ChangMi exclaim from the patio facing the beach, “It’s the wrong color! The sky is not purple!”

You and Hyunwoo laughed from the kitchen as you prepared the meat and side dishes to cook on the grill of the vacation home you rented. ChangMi was painting a landscape side by side with her Uncle Minhyuk and ChangGun was on the beach burying a sleeping Uncle Hyungwon with the assistance from his Uncle Changkyun. You were glad that at least a few of your husband’s brothers could join you and the kids on this short summer getaway.

“ChangMi, it’s called ‘creativity’,” you heard Minhyuk explain to your daughter as you and Hyunwoo brought out the food and he started up the grill. “It doesn’t have to be exactly like what you see with your eyes. It could be what you see in your head and heart.”

ChangMi tilted her head in thought as she continued to paint her light blue sky. “So you have purple skies in your head?”

“Yup,” Minhyuk answered, “And yellow whales, and pink water, and a blue sun.” He painted such a picture as he described it and he was rewarded with a giggling ChangMi.

“Uncle Min,” she said as she put down her paintbrush and stood to wrap her arms around her uncle’s neck as he painted, “you have a pretty happy place.” Minhyuk smiled as he placed a kiss on the little girl’s cheek.

You walked to look over the balcony and check on ChangGun with his uncles since it was unusually quiet. Years of experience has taught you that quiet is not always a good thing. You discovered the small mound of sand on top of Hyungwon had taken a different shape. You quickly took out your phone and snapped a picture of the turtle shell in the sand that Changkyun helped design with ChangGun. How Hyungwon stayed asleep through it all astounded you, but for as long as you had known him, you knew this wasn’t unusual.

Knowing that your kids were thoroughly preoccupied with different activities and bonding with their uncles, you went back to Hyunwoo’s side at the grill to help him cook.

“It’s nice to know this place hasn’t changed much, right?” Hyunwoo commented as you were making skewers to place on the grill.

You nodded in agreement. “We have a lot of memories with this place, don’t we?”

You felt Hyunwoo’s arm wrap around your waist and pulled you in to place a kiss on your temple. “We do.” You smiled up at your husband before he turned his attention back to the grill.

The smell of the meat grilling soon spread and moments later a laughing ChangGun in the arms of an equally laughing Changkyun came up the steps to the patio followed by a sandy Hyungwon which made everybody laugh.

“I’m gonna go take a shower,” he said as he dragged his feet across the patio and into the house.

“Uncle Hyungwon dirty,” ChangGun laughed.

“I think he’ll think twice about sleeping around us, right Gunnie?” Changkyun said as he tickled the little boy’s tummy, who laughed and happily agreed with his uncle.

The pair then began to take their seats at the table you began to set with ChangMi and Minhyuk joining shortly after. Hyunwoo brought the cooked meat over right on time for Hyungwon to return from cleaning up and joining the rest of the family.

“We should plan for a whole reunion here next time,” Minhyuk suggested as you all ate.

“It has been a while since the whole group was here together,” you added.

“Have you been here before Uncle Min?” ChangMi asked as she took a bite from her plate.

Minhyuk nodded. “Your dad and your other uncles and your aunties and mommy would come out here every summer in college.”

“Oooohhh,” the little girl replied.

“This is a special place for mommy and daddy, too,” Changkyun revealed.

“Why is it special?” ChangMi asked curiously.

You and Hyunwoo then looked at each other as the events of that fateful summer came back to you as vividly as it was yesterday.

You found yourself around the beach bonfire. Your sorority sisters had given you a makeover after finding out some info that one of the guys you invited from the fraternity, MuChi, actually harbored a crush on you. They were determined to find out who. Unfortunately, the outfit Dasom and Bora had picked out wasn’t very warm.

“You look cold,” Hoseok commented as he offered you his hoodie. You started thinking that maybe the outfit was strategically planned after all.

“Thank you,” you said as you pulled it over your head. As you were putting your arms through, you pondered over the thought you didn’t even notice he had a hoodie with him to begin with. He took the seat next to you and you felt a nudge from Soyou from your other side. You began some small talk with him since you didn’t want to be stuck in awkward silence for the rest of the night.

“Shall we start some games?” Hyolyn then loudly suggested. The group was in agreement and started to form a small circle next to the bonfire that was keeping you all warm from the ocean breeze. Hyolyn started with the word association rhythm game and each person that messed up would have to do a penalty. You all laughed as each loser executed each penalty, whether it be a shot of soju or some other ridiculous penalty request the group agreed upon.

Then came the moment where you messed up the rhythm and had to execute your penalty.

“Aegyo!!!” Hyolyn yelled out before bursting into a fit of laughter and the rest of your sisters betrayed you by agreeing this would be your penalty. So much for solidarity.

You looked around as you reluctantly stood up to see all eyes eagerly set upon you. You closed your own and took the deepest breath you could while quickly executing the best aegyo you could muster in 5 seconds and promptly pulled the hood of your borrowed sweatshirt over your head and tied it closed. All you could hear were the group’s giggles and exclamations of “how cute” from all angles around you. You took a deep breath from inside the hoodie and took in the woodsy scent it held. You had never pegged Hoseok to be a woodsy type guy with his cologne scent, though. You became attached to this scent the more you breathed it in. It had such a calming effect on you.

You then felt a pat on your head and a voice close to your ear as you continued to hide. “That was really cute,” the soothing voice had told you. You eventually came out of your makeshift hoodie tent to see who it belonged to, but someone started the music and so dancing and drinking around the bonfire began and the owner of the voice was no longer at your side.

The ratio of guys to girls was off so you were all just aimlessly dancing. Until a song came on the speaker that you knew the choreography to and so you busted out in the dance moves. The group then began cheering for you. When you turned your head, you discovered you had a dance partner in this impromptu performance after all. You and Hyunwoo kept in sync through the whole thing which made you smile. The song ended and your friends applauded the two of you. You smiled at each other, but before either of you could say anything, you were pulled away in different directions by your friends dancing to the next song on the playlist.

After another hour or so of more bonfire celebrations, you excused yourself back to the beach house to call it a night. You were starting to feel the effects of the soju and were aware you were close to your limit and would eventually fall fast asleep.

“Y/N!” a voice called out to you. You turned around and saw Hyunwoo catching up to you. “I’ll walk you back.”

“Daddy then told me that the hoodie belonged to him and not Uncle Hoseok,” you told your daughter.

“And I built up the courage to finally ask mommy out on a date,” Hyunwoo added.

“A few years later we came back here for another summer celebration with everybody,” you continued.

“And that was the trip your uncles and aunties helped me plan my proposal to mommy,” Hyunwoo concluded.

“Wow,” your daughter eventually said as she leaned against her Uncle Minhyuk’s arm attentively listening to her parents' story.

Hyunwoo took your hand and brought it to his lips and placed a kiss on your knuckles. You smiled lovingly at him.

“Does that mean I might find the man I marry here, too?” ChangMi innocently asked. Her dad and her uncles focused their attention on her with shocked looks.

“Maybe one day, my darling,” you answered her.

“Not for many, many years though,” Hyunwoo added.

“When you’re 30,” Hyungwon suggested.

“Why 30?” Changkyun asked, “I say 40.”

“ChangMi,” Minhyuk said, “You don’t need any other guys. Just daddy and your uncles.” You and ChangMi laughed at the ridiculous responses her overprotective bodyguards had to her question.

You smiled at your daughter and prayed that maybe one day, this beach will hold a special meaning for her as it did for you...when the time was right.

[inkribbon796]

Egotober Day 11: Who is the Strongest in the Land?

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31

Prompt: Strong

Summary: There’s a bit of a debate in the Coalition. Who is the strongest? Silver’s superpower? Bob’s shields. Or Robbie’s magically infused muscles?

A/N: So, guess who saw the new Sanders Asides and already wants to make content? Me! Unfortunately for the plot I will have to wait until I can include the new pairing in so heads up on that.

Warnings: none

For years there had been a question between the heroes.

Who was the strongest hero? Unlike with Jackie’s speed, Roman’s imagination-based powers, or the fact that Logan was unbeatable in trivia pursuit games; the “strong” category had no clear first place winner.

If you asked anyone in the city there was only one name they gave: Silver. Mostly because he was able to lift cars and similarly heavy objects throw them an eyebrow-raising distance away.

Ask certain heroes like Joan and Logan or even King who were a bit more literal about the powers around them, and they gave a different answer: Bob.

Logan’s reasoning was simple: the veteran hero had impenetrable barriers. Blunt force objects, explosives, magical attacks, Dark’s aura, even Silver using his strength to rocket him across the fight like a huge pinball wasn’t enough to even crack the barrier. The only thing stopping the barrier was Bob’s stamina in maintaining said barrier.

Of course Marvin was one of the only people with a third opinion: Robbie. Before his zombification, for lack of a better term, Robbie had never really had a superpower. He had only some good sense — something interestingly hard to come by in the group — and he was a touch hardier than the average teenager. But after Marvin had been using more and more spells to reverse the after effects of his slight decomposition, the result was Herculean strength and more human mannerisms.

Today one debate turned into another and once again Bob and Mark were going to settle the age old debate, and before anyone knew it most of the heroes were standing in the garage and Logan was helping to rig several sensors to take measurements of how hard Silver was punching and how hard Bob or his barriers were getting hit.

Henrik was of course naturally fretting around Robbie, fully objecting to Marvin using the young man to settle the debate.

“Nein! You vill do no such zing!” Henrik argued.

“Relax,” Iplier tapped him with the back of his hand, “J.J you’d tell us if anything happened right?”

J.J nodded and signed a quick “yes” but was conspicuously not making his way to the betting pool to place a bet of his own. It kept Iplier from making his own since neither the time traveler nor the seer were making bets, they were sitting on either side of him, watching.

“Do you guys know who to bet on?” Dr. Iplier asked them.

“Of course the Host knows who will win,” the seer grinned between his narrations.

J.J gave a sign that the Host did his best to translate, “No bet on first attempt,” J.J warned him.

“I’ll ask you next time then,” Iplier joked, smiling. “We’ll make bank on it.”

Then the Host pulled a jar out that had two five dollar bills in it, a tapped note in Iplier’s handwriting read on the front: “TIE”. Each of the notes had a rolled up piece of paper that had the name of the person who had placed the bet and how much they placed. There was a huge grin on his face, “The Host suggests Iplier go and place his bet on the table.”

J.J shrugged and slipped a five into Iplier’s hand, his name tag wrapped around it. Thankfully the bulk of the group was too busy arguing to notice what was obviously the Host’s bet going up. But Virgil who was close by saw that Iplier was trying to sneak the jar up. Iplier then snuck back and Virgil carefully slipped his bet from Bob’s jar, which he had only chosen because Logan had placed a bet there, to the Tie jar. Then he went back to sitting a safe distance away. “A safe distance” that would eventually turn into sitting next to Iplier.

“Fuck ‘em up Robbie!” Ethan cheered from where he was standing.

Robbie gave a huge, warm smile.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on my team?” Mark chuckled, giving his former apprentice a fake-offended gasp.

Ethan just laughed, his contagious giggling undercutting any actual vitriol that could have been in the words, “No, hahahah! Fuck you.”

Bob laughed, “Ooooh! He got you good!”

Mark rolled his eyes and lightly pushed him, “Come on, let’s go.”

Roman cleared his throat, he was in a huge puffy tutu that was white and red with glitter dusting it. He was in a tight red and white leotard with golden accents to it that were reminiscent of his usual outfit, along with a pair of white footed pants. “Well let’s begin, my bet won’t win itself.”

“Your wager was placed by bribery with cookies, compounding your already unsound logic,” Logan reminded him.

“Oh hush, nerdy Wolverine,” Roman ordered, and held an arm up. “Okay, Round 1: Silver Shepherd v. Gatling, to the victor go . . . the victory.”

“Smooth, Princey,” Virgil snickered.

Roman stuck out his tongue at Virgil and the anxious Side just snickered and rolled his eyes. “Well we have other rounds.”

The creative Side cleared his throat before announcing, “Ready. Set. Go!”

Roman brought his hand down as he said that last word. Mark shot off at full speed, too fast for most of the heroes to follow with their own eyes.

Bob brought up a barrier in time and the air around the other heroes popped most of their ears. Virgil whimpered in pain a bit and scooted over to get closer to Iplier.

Silver repeatedly flew around to get spread. The barriers never broke and Silver kept up the onslaught for another couple minutes before the wear and strain started to show on Bob’s face.

Usually in an actual fight the other heroes would have picked up the slack so Bob could hunker into his barriers and get a breather to grab his second wind. But this wasn’t a normal fight, it was a duel and the fight started to wear down on him.

The instant Silver saw it, he started taunting his friend. “What’s the matter, getting tired there?”

“How about you shut up, asshole!” Bob shouted and as Silver was racing forward again, he extended out the barrier and Silver wasn’t as braced as he should have been and slammed into it face-first, breaking his nose.

The barrier extended out, taxing more of Bob’s strength than he expected. The shield flickered and Silver noticed it immediately and struck, slamming into the barrier again and Bob’s concentration slipped, the barrier flickered again just long enough for Silver to speed through and knock Bob to the ground, pinning him in place.

Mark had a huge, smug smile on his face, “Hah! I win.”

Bob groaned, “Fuck!”

“Inconclusive,” Logan huffed. “The barriers were never broken.”

“But he was defeated all the same,” Host announced. “The Host doubts that Silver’s current opponent could get back on his feet to fight Silver so soon.”

“You didn’t even make a bet,” Mark shouted at him, catching his breath a little.

But at the Host’s huge smile, Silver looked back at Jackie who was now by the table, “Hey, what was his bet, cause that smile says he made one.”

“I dunno,” Jackie shrugged, “I stepped away to grab a coffee.”

“The Host was secretive about his bet because only five people would have voted against him,” the Host said.

“Of course we wouldn’t have,” Ethan agreed loudly. “You know what’s gonna happen.”

“But where would the Host get his entertainment from?” The Host smiled, trying to sound hurt but it didn’t work at all.

“You asshole,” Bob smiled. “Kay, Silv, you win.”

“Hey! That’s my job!” Roman reminded indignantly.

“Wooooo! Yeah, I’m the best, fucking suck it!” Mark shouted at Bob, talking right over Roman which made the Side even angrier, floating off the ground for a bit.

Bob shoved him a bit, sending him farther than if Mark had been standing like a normal person. “Ugh, you are the worst sometimes.”

Then Bob stepped aside and Robbie came to stand opposite Silver. And here was where Mark made his first mistake. He looked at Robbie, at the former apprentice he had helped train, and tried to figure out how to beat Robbie without hurting him.

Roman announced how, and Silver moved first. He flew towards Robbie but instead of knocking him over, the young man grabbed him by the arm and used Silver’s momentum to toss him to the side and make him slammed into the wall behind the zombie.

Henrik and Marvin dove out of the way, and Mark stared at Robbie with surprise.

“Yeah, get ‘im,” Marvin cheered after a moment’s shock.

“Alright, fine then,” Mark huffed out, deciding that he could afford to be a little rougher with him. Much to Henrik’s mounting horror, Mark began to try with more effort to pin Robbie down, but Mark’s earlier round with Bob and the fact that he’d been wasting time going easy on him for the first half of the fight.

So when Mark came flying towards him, trying to get around the back to pin Robbie down but the ensuing struggle looked more like a wrestling match and ended with Robbie kinda hugging Mark’s arms to his side and the superhero just floating in the air looking like a piece of board.

“Heya,” Bob smiled at Mark, “having fun there, buddy?”

“Shut up,” Silver tried to wiggle free but Robbie just hugged him harder, a smile on his face.

After about a solid minute, he let out a frustrated growl and just floated there in an angry huff. “How? Marvin what have you done to this guy?”

“That sounds like he gave up,” Marvin grinned, looking at Logan who looked thoroughly upset and put out. “Victory right?”

“No!” Silver called, struggling a bit more. “I’m not giving up.”

Then he admitted, “Yeah . . . fine.”

“Robbie win?” Robbie smiled at Marvin.

“Sure did kid,” Marvin cheered.

“Yay!” Robbie let go of Mark and he just floated there for a bit, pouting a little.

He did float out of range so Bob, hopped up on an energy drink and getting a little bit of a rest, could take his place. He smiled as he put out a little bit of a barrier. Bob was bracing for a hard hit like he usually was with Silver but when Roman called “Go” and Robbie slammed his shoulder against the barrier, Bob barely felt it.

Bob was used to faster heroes, and having a tanky type of fighting style, by necessity with his powers, he was unused to defending against that.

But Robbie wasn’t a fast fighter, strong? Absolutely. However he wasn’t even half as fast as Mark and Bob just rested his elbow against the barrier and leaned against it. It had been a hot minute since he’d fought someone he had enough time to rest with.

Mark and Wade were the first ones to realize what was going on.

“Well shit,” Wade said. “He’s not getting through that.”

“He could!” Marvin promised defiantly.

Wade gave Marvin a look, “You know he’s not.”

“Come on, he hits hard enough to do more than that,” Mark defended, if only to salvage his own wounded pride.

“Oh yeah, I feel something,” Bob agreed. “It’s just not fast enough.”

“He was going faster against Silver,” Marvin cut in. “I call a do over.”

“No! No! If I got tired after Gatling,” Mark called out, “that counts.”

“But that means it’s a tie,” Bob spoke up. “We can’t have a tie.”

“But oh yes, the heroes can,” the Host smiled.

“Yah weren’t e’en bettin’!” Marvin shouted at them.

“But yet the Host always wins,” the Host smiled, J.J smiled as well.

“So do we win?” Virgil asked hesitantly.

“Hey,” Logan turned to Virgil, “you placed a bet at the same time has me for Bob.”

“I changed it,” Virgil whispered, already pulling his hoodie up a bit higher.

“You changed your vote because you were aware of a more likely outcome,” Logan realized. “I applaud your insight.”

Virgil smiled a bit and the winnings were distributed amongst the four winners, J.J leaving this timeline as it was. Logan, Bob, Marvin, and Mark continued to debate between each other who would have won in an “actual fight” after the Host used his voice to bring in a bunch of donuts to distract the heroes from the fact that he had basically got away with the bulk of the winnings . . . again.

[myqueenjudeduarte]

“You say you want me, but your body seems to like it when I tease you,” and/or “Call me ‘Sir’ when we’re alone like this,” for Alina x Darkling?

ok. im doing both. and I’m gonna combine this with another prompt I got from @darklingslover to write an alarkling roommates AU. Also I’m super sorry if there are things in this that don’t mesh with the books, I haven’t read them in a while.

Can’t stress this enough - mal doesn’t even fucking exist in this universe. as it should be in every universe.

Oh also this fic is called “Downfall”

.

Desperation drives even the wisest to their downfalls. Alina thought back to the first words Aleksander had said to her the day she moved in, back to the small, twisted smile on his face and the way he had looked her up and down.

Pretentious prick, she thought. Still, he was right. Desperation had driven her here, to him, and he was sure to be her downfall, if through irritation alone. Had she had any place to go, anywhere at all, in the world, after her last roommate had kicked her out so her new boyfriend could move in, she would have gone there. As it was, though, she had been left to beg the first stranger she saw putting up a “roommate wanted” advertisement for a room. And thus had begun a sure-to-be terrible living situation.

Since she had arrived, he had not only hit on her – relentlessly, she might add – but he had laid down a bunch of seemingly useless rules for how they were to cohabitate. He had gone as far as to set the hours that each of them could use the kitchen, although she was fairly certain from the look on his face that he was only doing it to get under her skin.

She realized with a start that maybe he’d done all of it just to get under her skin. Still, that made it worse, not better. She was committed to continuing to live with him for only as long as she absolutely had to, then getting out of there as quickly as possible. And whatever she did, she promised herself, she would not sleep with him.

Less than a week later, she slept with him.

The first step towards Alina’s downfall was when she walked into the kitchen to make breakfast, during her “allotted kitchen hours,” and found Aleksander lounging against the counter.

“I thought these were my hours,” she said, unable to keep her disdain for the system out of her voice.

Aleksander quirked an eyebrow.

“Oh, are they?” he asked, voice sounding almost genuinely confused. Almost.

He smiled. “Let me get out of your way, then.” As he walked past, his hip brushed hers, and she felt a jolt of desire as she had every time their bodies had “accidentally” encountered each others in the past week.

As much as she didn’t want to, she found herself undeniably attracted to him. She told herself it was his appearance, that anyone would be into him, but it had never been about looks for her before. There was something about him that kept her up at night, wondering what he was like in bed, wondering what he would sound like in the heat of passion.

The second step towards Alina’s downfall was when she brought him a slice of cake.

She had decided that even if he wouldn’t be a decent roommate, she would. So when she was cutting a rare slice of cake for herself, she cut one for him as well, and brought it to him where he sat in the dining room, reading a book. It looked pretentious. She judged him.

He took the cake, set it down, and caught her hand before she could move away. Then, he brought the hand to his lips, never breaking eye contact with her.

“Thank you, Alina,” he said, and something about his voice caused shivers to run down her spine. She jerked away quickly and left the room.

The third and final step towards Alina’s downfall came that night. She was walking into the living room, contemplating watching TV, and hoping beyond all hope that he wouldn’t be in there. But he was – standing in the middle of the room, in fact – and Alina groaned internally.

“Kneel,” he said, and she blinked up at him in confusion.

“Excuse me?” She must’ve misheard, must be imagining things, must have–

“I told you to kneel. You’ve shown me how adept you are at following frivolous rules,” he said, smirking as he watched her realize the exact purpose of his cohabitation rules, “and I assume you’re equally adept at following orders.”

To her surprise, Alina had the impulse to obey, an impulse which she quickly put from her mind.

“Aleksander–”

“I think,” he said, walking forward to trace her cheekbones, “that you should call me ‘sir’ when we’re alone like this.”

Alina swallowed hard enough for it to be audible, and Aleksander’s smirk grew.

“I can see the conflict in your eyes, Alina,” he said, voice almost soothing. “I know how badly you want to obey. How hard you’re fighting your own urges. But you have no reason not to give in. I won’t hurt you,” and with that, he gripped the side of her neck, gentle for a moment before digging his nails in, “unless you want me to.”

Alina closed her eyes against the impulse to submit, to give him exactly what he wanted.

“I can’t stand you,” she breathed, his face far too close to hers for comfort.

“I know,” he murmured back, kissing the tip of her nose gently. “But you don’t need to like me to obey me.”

With that, he exerted gentle pressure on her shoulders and, shocking herself, Alina willingly fell to her knees before him. 

He brought a hand down to her head, stroking her hair back from her face gently.

“Good girl,” he said. “Now stand.”

Alina looked up at him in shock. There was only one thing she had expected him to want from her on her knees, and it certainly was not to immediately get back up again.

“You’re not making sense, Aleksander.”

“‘Sir,’ I believe I said.” He gripped her hair tighter. “And I am trying to teach you to be obedient.” He pulled upward on her hair, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to exert pressure, and Alina rose to her feet.

“And, Alina, in the future, when we’re not alone, simply ‘Aleks’ will do.” With that, he walked toward his bedroom, clearly expecting her to follow him.

Alina resolved never to call him Aleks, as she could sense the satisfaction he would derive from it, but she did follow him into his bedroom, too turned on at this point to pretend even to herself that she didn’t want what was happening.

“Take off your clothes and lay down in my bed,” he ordered and, for the first time that evening, she obeyed immediately, stripping herself of her t-shirt, jeans, and underwear to stand naked before him. She hesitated before getting into bed but, when he quirked an eyebrow once more, complied.

She was nervous at the thought of him seeing her body, as she always was her first time with a man, but when he reached her where she lay he caressed her hipbone and murmured, “beautiful.” 

Alina shuddered.

Aleks ran his hand down over her thigh, then back up over her stomach and to her breasts. He drew circles around one of her nipples until she was gasping, then laughed softly before taking it between his thumb and forefinger and pinching hard. This elicited an entirely different kind of gasp, and his smile never faded as he tormented her with soft brushes of skin and harder, more determined touches.

After several minutes of focus on her breasts, he finally leaned down and kissed her, slowly, thoroughly. 

“I’m quite glad,” he said against her mouth, “that you have decided to be obedient.”

Alina moaned, thinking only, at this point, of how to get him inside her, or at least touching her where she wanted it most.

“Sir,” she said, finally relenting, “touch me.”

“Oh,” he said, and she thought for a moment that she saw a dangerous glint in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced with one of amusement. “Are you giving the orders, Alina?”

She shivered as he said her name.

“No, Sir,” she replied, and he smiled.

“Besides, you say you want me, but your body seems to like it when I tease you.” With that, he slid two fingers deeply inside her before curling them, dragging a moan from her throat.

“Yesss,” she hissed, and he stopped.

“What do we say, Alina?”

Alina was silent, refusing to give in to this last, most ultimate of demands. Refusing to allow him this measure of power over her.

He curled his fingers once more, swiped his thumb against her clit, and she bit down hard on her lower lip to stifle a groan of pleasure.

“What,” he pushed his fingers deeper inside her, “do,” he rubbed a harsh circle around her clit, “we,” he bent down and took a nipple into his mouth, biting down hard, “say?” With that, he kissed her, deeply and passionately.

“Please, sir, please,” she finally assented, too desperate for him now to put off the inevitable any longer.

“Please what, Alina?”

Alina closed her eyes in frustration. Of course he wasn’t satisfied with her begging – of course he would demand more.

“Please make me come,” she murmured, and he smiled, deciding to finally give her what she wanted.

After that, he set about his task in earnest, rubbing his thumb in circles around her clit as he curled and pumped his fingers inside her. When, at last, Alina came, she shattered around him, crying out “Aleks” despite her earlier decision not to use his nickname. She brought her hands up to tangle in his hair, pulling hard, a part of her wanting to punish him for the things he’d convinced her to say and do. The things he had made her want. 

When she finally came down from one of the strongest orgasms of her life, Aleks was laying beside her, grinning lazily, still fully clothed. His hand stroked Alina’s arm.

“I trust it was good for you, Alina?” he asked, smirking. Alina glared. “Actually, I don’t have to trust – your moans and cries were proof enough.”

He moved closer, moved until his head was by hers and he could whisper softly in her ear. 

“You may not like me, darling, but you like this. And you will continue to like this over and over again, because I don’t think I’ll be through with you for quite some time.”

His words caused goosebumps to erupt over her flesh, and she met his eyes, hoping to reclaim even a modicum of her own power.

“And I suspect,” she replied, adopting his utterly pretentious way of speaking, “that I will not be finished with you for quite some time myself.”

She waited only a moment to see the delighted surprise light up Aleks’ eyes before she rolled on top of him, and they were lost to each other once more.