#so now i’m spiraling thinking maybe im just straight but I know in my heart im not but

[validgoth]

i know it sounds problematic but bisexuality really do be confusing

[acid-ixx]

I’m new, I just read your fic about neglect reader. I haven’t read through your blog yet but I am so excited after reading this fic. I am an emotional wreck right now and my curiosity is eating me alive with this question “Does reader know about Jason? Will they ever met? Ever have a platonic relationship together? Will Jason be more of a brother to reader?”

I’m sorry I speed through the fic and tears are in my eyes I couldn’t think straight BUT I notice that Jason is hardly there so I’m curious. Please this is such a brain rot, it’s way past midnight after I read this cause I keep stopping to cry.

major (?) spoilers below.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

hello anon !! im so happy ppl are getting more exposed to the content i have written so far. anyways, i can't believe i also got others to cry bec i did too when i was writing 😭

anyways, to answer ur question: yes! the reader will meet jason and he would actually be the first sibling you would meet after you have left the manor. the way he would turn yandere for you is a different approach to how the others would be because in the prequel, it has been stated that you had your fair share of encounters with him.

"will they ever have a platonic relationship with him/see him as a brother?" maybe, maybe not. because your meeting with him would all be a blur to you, and jason's obsession would stem from the trauma he had experienced, causing him to be more protective of you.

you're not in your best mindset and you're vulnerable walking through the streets of gotham and all alone? oh god, only a dumbass would do that— but once the red hood recognizes your face and the way you carry yourself so pitiably, he immediately tries to take you in his arms just as he should.

but the moment you push him away? tell him to fuck off despite your drunken state? the moment you cry and tell him you could deal with everything yourself without his help or anybody else's? you just remind him of himself and that triggers his first spiral into yandere-ism.

it's the way you share trauma, the way you both feel immense anger. he should've noticed sooner because you two would've been as close as peas in a pod. and yet he failed you by being a hypocrite. you were literally taken into the manor right after his death and discarded like you were mere trash. he should've taken you away when he had the opportunity to but he was too caught up in his feat of revenge.

yet the worst part was that he had taken notice of tim before he did you, and jason had momentarily hated you too because he thought bruce had replaced him. if he had looked through that veil of contempt that he had for you, and saw just how neglected and in need of attention you are, then he would've taken you under his wing.

but he didn't, and he had done the same thing to you as most did.

so take it as you will when i say you're more or less going to be closer (albeit unwillingly) to jason than anybody else because unlike his other siblings who are bound by their vigilante duties, your big brother jason wouldn't mind shooting any creeps who think they could touch his precious angel.

and he gets it, too, angel— you hate him, you hate them all and that's valid. but you can't just walk out in the streets alone and expect to be home in one piece; so leave it to him to scout your apartment alright? leave it to your big brother jason to intimidate the goons who try to stalk you when you're not looking. even if you don't want him near you, you'll always find warm food by your table and a note reminding you to take care of yourself more often.

it hurts when you rip the paper to shreds but it breaks his heart even more if you refuse to touch the meal he would leave for you, because that probably means you saw him as danger more than anything else. and he doesn't know it, but you're already planning to make a run for it now that you're under red hood's radar.

it's obvious that you have no experience when it comes to living by yourself, so please don't fucking push him away and let him protect you from any harm. your self destructive habits only causes him to become more protective of you and it only lets him stalk you more often to ensure nobody would touch his precious angel.

just like dick, you'll be treated more like a child than that of a young adult, but at least jason has the concept of personal space compared to your eldest brother. but still, jason wishes to hold you in his arms.

heaven forbid if the joker ever got his crummy fingers on you. jason would go berserk.

little does he know, little does your family know just how much they had lost the opportunity to keep you in wraps inside the manor.

they should've never let you out in the first place.

[4ln-stay8]

Behind closed doors - part II

>summary: Han isn’t too happy to find out what his sister is doing lately

>author’s note: I still don’t know how I feel about it… I also take requests if you have any ideas… I’m also working on some fake texts bits haha …THERE MIGHT BE A PART III

>warning: angst, Han is kind of a dick (Im sorry babygirl) not proof read

>pairing: lee minho x han jisung's sister

Part I

Masterlist

*Y/N'S POV*

It’s been three weeks since your argument with Jisung. Three weeks since you both talked to each other. He didn’t came home after that night due to his busy schedule but he tried and talk to your parents as much as he could. Your mother tried to make you speak to each other but neither of you wanted to reach out first.

On that night your mother asked what happened to her kids after she saw Jisung dropping you off and leave the next second. You told her everything while crying your eyes out and nothing she said could make you stop.

You never thought that your relationship with your brother could fall to the ground all because you fall in love with the wrong man. Don’t get me wrong, you didn’t regret falling for Minho, you didn’t regret anything about him or anything about your relationship with him. Anything besides keeping it a secret from Jisung.

Maybe things would be different if you would’ve told him sooner. Maybe he wouldn’t have hated you so much right now. You were spiralling down the rabbit hole and all you could think of was “what if”.

You barely talked to Minho in the past few weeks, you hated yourself for putting him through this. He had to work and spend every day with his best friend who probably hated him right now, all because of you.

You were way past the whole “it’s not only my fault” part and got straight to the “it’s all my fault” part.

You were miserable to say at least. You hated yourself for being the reason why your brother hated his best friend. You hated yourself for being the reason your brother hated you. You hated yourself for being the reason why your boyfriend was treated poorly by you in those three weeks.

You tried to be a good girlfriend, you tried to be one considering all the bad you’ve caused to him in his other relationships. You tried your best but you just couldn’t look him in the eyes while knowing what he had to go through.

Thats why you asked him to talk, in the small window he actually had. That’s why you showed up at the coffee shop near the JYP building while looking like you were just hit by a meteorite, waiting for your beloved.

- Hi jagi! It’s so nice to see you, I missed you so much! said minho while talking the seat opposite from you - Hi! Uhm…. Can we talk? you asked straight forward not wanting to be there longer than necessary due to barely being able to keep the tears behind your eyes - Uhm sure…. What do you want to talk about? he asked anxiously - I’m so sorry Minho! I’m really sorry about everything. I didn’t want to get between you and Jisung! He is right, I do ruin everything! you said, your voice barely above a whisper with tears running down your face -Wha-what are you saying jagi? he whispered confused but yet expecting the worst

-I ruin a lot of things Minho, but i refuse to ruin your life more than I already did. It's not fair. I'm sorr.y Minho... we're over. you whispered, pain evident in your voice as you got up quickly, running out of the coffee shop

You ran and ran, not stopping until you got home. You ran straight into your room, falling down the wall in the quiet room, the only sound heard being your heart breaking. You gave up on the anger you held against your brother, and with a last text sent to him, you gave up on yourself.

*MINHO'S POV*

He stood there, watching you run away, taking his heart with you. It took him around 15 minutes to actually process the entire thing.

With small robotic movements, he stood up and slowly walked out of the coffee shop, going back to the dance studio where all his friends were.

He walked in the studio and with small steps he went straight in the furthest corner, collapsing on the floor hidinghis face in his knees. He didn't wanted to cry in front of his friends, let alone cry in front of the few staff members that were there at the time.

Chan, being the good leader and the great friend he is, he Minho's appearence in the corner. With a ferm voice he let everyone know that they are free for the rest of the day, saying that they practiced so much lately that they need a break before someone gets hurt.

His voice was so serious that no one dared to question him and everyone just picked their stuff up and left, everyone besides the band members who were still picking up their stuff while messing around.

With small and calculated steps, Chan moved closer to where Minho was sitting, kneeling close to him, putting a hand on his shaking shoulders.

-Everything okay Min? How did the date with Y/N went? he asked softly

-She broke up with me. She said she couldn't ruin my life anymore.... Thats such bullshit Chan. he whispered, slowly raising his face to look at Chan.

The moment Chan saw his teary eyes he pulled him in a big warm hug, trying to comfort his friend.

*HAN'S POV*

Even tho it was weird for Chan to just call it a day mid practice, Jisung never dared to question his leader, looking forward to hiding behind his bedroom door and avoiding Minho with all costs.

He didn't spoke to his hyung almost atall in the past three weeks, only speaking when needes. It was common knowledge that he was avoiding him after the fight they had on the night Han dropped you home.

He stopped talking to you as well, against his mother's protests. He always asked about your condition and about your state whenever he called home. He didn't wanted to be the first to break and to see a message from you left him in complete shock. He opened the message reading it carefully. Honestly he had to read it twice to fully understand the words he was reading, replying vaguely and confused with your words.

His head flew up the next second, looking around chaotically. His eyes immediately landed on Minho who was currently in the arms of their hyung. He found himself walking closely to them.

-Wha-what happend? What did she do? he found himself saying, panick noticeable in his voice

-She ended things. She didn't wanted to ruin our friendship more than she did. whispered minho realising Chan and whiping his tears. Without a warning Minho stood up and stormed out of the dancing studio, all eyes on him. Han never saw Minho like this, so vulnerable and broken and he found himself feeling guilty.

Without saying a word, he took his belongings and ran out the studio, straight to his car. He found himself in front of his home, 20 minutes later.

He walked out of the car and straight inside, walking to the door of your bedroom. He knocked softly without saying a word. When he didn't hear anything form the other side of the door, he slowly opend it, being welcomed with your body still against the wall, looking into nothing.

He slowly walked thowards yoi, tears picking up in his eyes at the sight of his baby sister being so heark broken. And all because of him. He sat slowly beside you looking at a imaginary dot on the opposite wall. -You were right you know? I was indeed being selfish. I just didnțt wanted to have to share you or Minho. He is my best friend and I would hate to know he is the cause of your pain, but instead I was, and I hated myself even more. whispered jisung trying to get your attention

-You were right, I do ruin everything. Im so sorry for all the things I ruined between the two of you. I am the worst sister ever. you whispered

-You didn’t ruin anything y/nnie! I did! I ruin the relationship between you and me, the one between me and Minho hyung and the one between the two of you. I’m really sorry! Please go and fix this! I know I’m too late but I do want you to be happy!

-It doesn’t matter now, he probably hates me! And its ok Ji, I should’ve told you from the start.

-Minho hyung doesn’t hate you! Is he hurt, yeah. But he doesn’t hate you!

-Not so sure about that Jisung ! you said quietly

-My point is, I see now how much you love each other and I would be a terrible person to stand between you. I would be worse than I already am.

-I get where you’re coming from, I do but you’re my brother and your opinion matters the most to me. Seeing you so mad about the idea of me having a crush on Minho broke me. I tried at first to get rid of them but I couldn’t get rid of his feelings and I couldn’t get rid of mine.

-For how long has this been happening? he slowly asks, his voice softens with each word

-We confessed to each other at Changbin’s birthday party. you whispered slowly

-That was like 7 months ago!! he raised his tone surprised

-I know, Im sorry!

-How did it happen?

-We got drunk at the party and after a while we were just making out. The next morning I woke up behind the couch cuddling with him. We were both so embarrassed but he had the balls to confess. I told him that I wanted to wait to tell you until we were sure that it will work. I wanted to tell you, then you asked me about my crush and I tried to hint it but that didn’t get me the reaction I wanted.

-I overreacted a little didn’t I?

-Yeah, but I understand why. You’re not in an easy position. Sneaking aro was easier but it wasn’t fair to you or to Minho. I was just too scared of losing both of you.

-And now you are whiling to lose him. he whispered feeling guilty

-As much as I love him, you’re my brother. My relationship with you is more important than a boy, at least to mom who is constantly begging me to forgive your sorry ass! you said teasingly

-Hey! You’re not the only one she begged!

-I mean it tho, one day we will be the only ones left. Yes, we’ll have partners but we’ll still be alone. Mom and dad won’t live forever and it is important that we get along well.

-It’s not that important if it’s making you miserable! I know i was wrong, I reacted with knowing the full story. I really am an asshole! But I didn’t wanted to have to choose between you and my best friend, yet I made you choose between me and your boyfriend.

-It was my choice. You didn’t asked for it. It was for his benefit.

-It’s not! He is as miserable as you are! He even hugged Channie hyung back when he hugged him to comfort him. He even cried in front of us! You need to fix this, for you, for him, even for me! I would hate myself for being the reason you both are like this. And trust me I won’t forget myself for the way I reacted.

-Do you think he’ll have me back? you asked shyly

-There’s only one way to find out.

[strawberrykake]

When he pulls the “not saying ‘ily’ back” prank

but with a twist…

—image reads: “i love you, i love you, don’t cry”

warnings/ notes: TIMESKIP MENTIONS (Kageyama), angst (omg finally??), broken/insecure relationships, married relationships, fluff, cursing, pregnancy (Atsumu), long reading (GLHF)

part 2, part 3

Kageyama, Atsumu (fem!reader) || reader

♢ Kageyama ☄. *. ⋆

“Really? I have to wait another whole day to see you?” you grumble against your phone to your athlete husband on the other end.

He had planned to come early to your shared home in the US after a long trip from the pro-game in Japan.

“Yeah, it sucks. If only they didn’t cancel the damn flight. Ugh.” Kageyama groans. “I gotta go. Ushijima-san is calling me. Bye, honey.”

“Aw, okay.” The solemn tone in your voice makes his heart crack.

Because of the time he spent focusing on volleyball, he had to make up for all the times he missed out with you.

Even though you never complained, he knew he was a terrible husband for it.

That’s why your husband has a whole surprise for you.

That’s why he’s not actually still in Japan.

And that is why he’s sitting in the car, outside your home with a lot of gifts and your favorite snacks from Japan that he knew you love.

Before hanging up, you end with your usual parting phrase. “Talk to you later, Tobio. Love you.”

“See you.” He smirks, having a cruel idea.

After a long pause, you speak. “Tobio?” you elongate the ‘o’ at the end of his name.

“Yes, sweetheart?” he says, grinning.

“Say it.” You say, sternly.

“Say what?” He asks, innocently.

What he doesn’t know is that you thought he was being genuine.

“Forget it, Kageyama,” you grit. “Bye.” And with that, you hung up.

Ooh. The last name. [Y/N]’s real mad, he thinks to himself.

You, on the other hand start overthinking things.

Did he really forget? Oh my god. He’s fallen out of love for me, hasn’t he…I knew this would happen. And it’s partially my fault for not communicating with him.

Your thoughts go in a spiral and before you know it, tears start trickling down your cheeks.

You grab a kitchen towel and sat down at the empty dining table, drowning yourself in your miserable thoughts

Because you knew you still love him and there’s nothing you want more in this world than to see him happy

Maybe you don’t make him happy. Maybe playing volleyball is his escape from you.

Kageyama waits in the car, for a minute longer thinking you’d call back.

When you don’t, he rushes out with his bags and opens the door with his keys.

The living room door opening makes you jump

“Y/N?” His voice makes you go pale.

“What the hell?” You whisper, feeling both excited and nervous that he’s home.

You plan to hide your tears but it was too late as Kageyama rushes straight to you, giving you a huge hug.

“Y/N! Surprise! Babe, I missed you so much. You know I was just tric—y/n?” He stops mid-sentence when he hears you sniffle. He pulls away to observe your face, his heart almost stopping, and his smile now gone.

“D-do you still love me?” you ask, voice shaking a little.

At this point, you couldn’t stop your tears as they fell, though, you attempt to blink them

Nothing but regret filled his heart.

“Fck,” he cursed to himself. “I’m. So. Sorry. Holy shit. I’m so sorry. I’m an idiot.” He mentally punches himself.

It never occurred to him that you've been questioning his sincerity in your relationship.

Small whimpers escape your lips as you try to hold back your cries.

“I love you sooooo much. You don’t understand,” he starts, inhaling with shaky breaths and clinging to you. His hand softly caresses your hair. “I love you. I love you, please don’t cry.” Kageyama feels a lump in his throat as he says those words.

But it only made you crumble down harder

He, himself, is breaking. A tear, falling down his cheek, is evident of it.

You both know that this crying session is long overdue

After many moments of feigning laughs and the words “im ok”, it’s about time that you tell him the truth

And you both know you have a lot to talk about now that he’s back.

he intends on fixing this marriage and he’ll do whatever it takes to erase all the doubt that you’ve had before

Because there is absolutely no doubt in his heart, mind, body, and soul that he still loves you

♢ Atsumu ☄. *. ⋆

It all started off as a silly joke to him

He thought that maybe this would be a great way to lighten up the gloomy mood you’ve been in for the past few days

Boy was he wrong

Going on his way to the gym for a quick workout, he pretends to forget his usual “i love you”s whenever he departs

“Tsumu,” you say, in a scolding voice as you relax on the edge of the living room couch. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

You watch your husbands back straighten.

“Hmm, I don’t think so,” he answers cooly, hand on the doorknob.

He turns around to say his final parting words

He almost breaks his facade when he looks at your face

“you really don’t?” You pout, your bottom lip quivering. But you quickly bite it, trying to hide the fact that you’re about to cry

“No.” The dumbass thinks you’re r fake crying, so he continues with his jesting, keeping a straight face.

You’re ur not sure why you’ve gotten so emotional lately

You’re usually making jokes and playing along with him but now is NOT the time for these type of jokes

Probably because of the human growing inside you and your hormones going batshit crazy

And… Atsumu has been looking tired these days

What if he’s grown tired of you, what if…he doesn’t want the baby?

You look down, blinking back tears

You hear the door shut.

Huh, he left.

With your eyes to the carpeted floor, you wipe the blurry vision from your eyes using the sleeve of your sweater

When you suddenly feel two strong arms wrap around you

“I love you, I love you, don’t cry” Atsumu’s voice whispers, repeating many more words of affirmation as he feels your shoulders shake.

He hadn’t left. He merely just closed the door and leaned against it, watching your actions intently before face palming himself bc he realized that he utterly fucked up

And his words make your tears spill more

You feel his lips press against your cheek, his own tear staining on your cheek

“I hate you,” you tell him with a glare.

“Er, I hear ya. I’m sorry, love. That was a bad joke. Never doing it again,” he says, apologetically. “I love you, always.”

You sigh. "I know, I'm just feeling a little sensitive right now."

He moves to sit on the couch, pulling you into his lap so he could hug you tighter.

“Are you not going to the gym?” You ask, eyebrow raised.

“Nah, let’s just cuddle today, yeah?” He snuggles his face into your neck, placing a lingering kiss on it.

“You sure? It’s leg day.” You ask, knowing that Miya Atsumu, never skips leg day. And he’d always advertise that when someone compliments his looks.

He pulls back to look you in the eyes, a hand going up to comb through your hair.

The look he gives you never fails to make you blush

“Nah, I’d rather spend time with ya today,” he says, eyes trailing down to your lips. His thumb dances across your bottom lip, and his eyes look back to yours.

Another hand reaches to your stomach, rubbing over it softly, a habit he picked up after your pregnancy whenever you'd sit close like this

It makes your worries of him not wanting to be a father quickly vanish

“Can a’ get a kiss?” He asks quietly. He’s still guilty abt his actions, unsure if you’d even want to kiss him right now.

Yes you were still mad about what he did, but the way he’s making those pitiful, googly eyes makes it difficult for you to resist

You sigh and grab his face to kiss him hard.

His arms wrap tightly around you, as the kiss deepens.

He gleefully sighs, feeling so grateful for moments like this

You are the most precious thing to him and if he can’t make you feel that way, then he knows that he failed his duty as a husband

He promises to do better

+ a/n: reader’s version (more light-hearted)!

++ I wouldn’t say this is a continuation of that post ^_^

[sunsents]

Library - James Potter (M)

Heyyy, hey, how ya'll doing?? My exams are over!! Thank you so much for the support and the lovely messages 😙 here's a kith. I know you guys are waiting on Empty part 2, so here's a really short unedited thing?? I wrote a few months ago for you guys to read while you wait. You can really see how much I improved with my recent writing, but I hope you all enjoy this nonetheless while I finish up Empty 2. Enjoy, or don't. Idk.

Summary —> A study sesh turns into something much more when two knuckleheads interrupt you.

Pairing: jamespotter x fem!reader (im sorry to frederick for neglecting my gingeritis religion.)

Word count: a mere 1.4k

Warnings: smut / just filthy sex honestly / cheeky lil breast action /

Rating: 18+

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

You made sure to neatly pile your hoard of essay papers and not mind the ink blotches your palm had left from the hours of work put within. It didn't matter, Slughorn cared about the content rather than esthetic, hopefully. It was no big matter to worry about you told yourself, your handwriting was messy and not the most appealing, but your handiwork in potions was quite the opposite, it was fine.

"Hey ____, still workin' on those?" James Potter's husky voice cracked like a whip in-front of your face, perhaps painful to your ears as well.

You glowered at him, what else were you supposed to do? His antics continued to worsen every day. "What do you want?" your nasally voice caused you to clear your throat, evidence perhaps that you hadn't left the library seat and spoke in hours.

"Just checking in." Sirius Black's pool of hair - black as well - was turned the opposite way, he was gazing at the library books, a most unusual sight for him. "Didn't want you melting outta boredom."

"I'm perfectly fine thanks." you snapped, your head rung in awful thumps of pain but you paid no attention to it.

The corners of James's perfect lips lowered playfully. "You're all snappy, we're doin' nothing." his tone was smooth as silk now, his lips tugging into a playful grin once again. Never was a grin not on James's handsome face.

You took a deep inhale while watching him, you had to anyways. Your fingers were fidgeting together under the table, a view James couldn't hopefully see but the way your rings clicked together made him painfully aware. "Just don't bother me till' I'm done, I'm almost finished."

James nodded, his bottom lip jutting out in a frown once again. You had to roll you eyes, had to do something to make it seem like you weren't enjoying their so called company.

You stretched your head back and enjoyed the feeling of your neck craning and extending for a few moments. It had been a some time since movement was made in your fatigued body. you figured your tied up hair wasn't going to keep intact much longer, so you released the band in a swift move. Your hair cascaded down all the same, then you quickly shot straight and continued to write.

You didn't have time for comforts and stretching, you were close to finishing your essay and that was all that mattered. You didn't even bother asking James if he had done it, because his answer was surely at the ready. He was Head Boy and his marks were all excellent, but when it came to homework it was long forgotten to him.

A slight diversion caused you to look up, James and Sirius were on the ground and a few books had fallen, scattered around the wooden library floor. You scoffed then flicked your wand; the books magicked up and flew back to their original places. "One second and you guys make a mess." you stared, your eyes flashed dangerously. You weren't an intimidating person, at least you liked to think so much unlike what your friends said.

But surely, you easily managed to intimidate the two most popular boys in Hogwarts. They both quickly shot up and took the seats in-front of you. Sirius was apologetically looking down, unlike James who immediately relaxed and sprawled himself out on the plush cushions. Ass, you thought, but didn't say anything.

"Alright what do you want, really." you deadpanned, you knew them for seven years, they weren't fooling you.

James, who was busy wiping his glasses on the fabric of his sweater put them back on and smirked. "You." he simply said.

You rolled her eyes and scoffed all the same, though your stomach was erupting in butterflies. "James why don't you go bother Lily like you always do." you whispered, Madame Pince was glaring at them and you weren't going to risk getting kicked out of the library again.

"No," James started, Sirius merely watched the interaction play out with a smile. "why would I go t'her when I have you right here."

You shot up and squeezed your fists, you weren't going to fall for it, a phrase you had been telling yourself for the past two years when James's interest suddenly piqued on you. "I'm gonna go put these books back."

After pressing the three large books to your chest, you wasted no time getting far away from the two boys as possible. Your heartbeat was rapid, dangerously fast that you thought you might drop dead.

It wasn't much time until you reached the furthest corridor of bookcases, luckily this was the row where you had acquired the books. You walked to the middle and stood on your toes, reaching your hand up and letting the books fly back to their original places. Then, the next book, same process. You were going awfully slow, doing your best to avoid talking to James as much as you could so your burning cheeks could go cool down and your heart would stop trying to thump out of your chest.

The third book, so close to being done until a presence suddenly overpowered you. It was right behind you and awfully familiar, towering over your stretched figure. James' cologne was what gave it away so suddenly, "Let me." his tone was going in spirals, once husky, then silky and now this. Breathless, strained and somehow desperate.

What you didn't realize was your skirt lifting up when you stood tip toe on your legs, your years of Quidditch clearly visible on your body. At least for James anyways. You heard him swallow thickly, then a muscular arm towering over her figure and pushing the last book up.

James sucked in a breath.

It was dizzying, you were never this close to him. A new territory, unfamiliar and intimate, not to mention exciting. Sure he flirted but he never took it too far, you didn't know what to think of it either. He was confident while "flirting" with Lily, he held his chest high and cracked jokes which only made the Lily blush deeper and continue to insult him. His ego boosted whenever Lily would try to hide away her blush, and the usual row of girls on the background sighing with her. It was somehow annoying, seeing James so buttered up.

James exhaled harshly.

But with you it was different, James was the one blushing. An unusual sight, James Potter being flustered but it was true. He would even stutter at times if you playfully flirted back, which happened very rarely. He would start off confident, and it would die down in a matter of seconds.

James was breathing almost heavily now.

You felt proud at sometimes, you even believed that James maybe would be harboring feelings for you. But then that big ole clump in your head would yell 'why would he, he's James Potter. Also, he's been in love with the same girl for years.' and all that hope would dissolve away.

James groaned desperately.

So frankly, you didn't know how you ended up with your skirt hiked up your waist, panties messily tucked aside and thick cock buried to hilt between your walls and continuously slamming into that one, dizzying spot. James' hands slithered around your waist and his arms tightly encircled on your stomach to press. You could feel every single muscle. Every single muscle to from stomach, down his thighs and the flesh between them.

He pressed his chest on your back, whispered the filthiest phrases he could think of to make you writhe, told you how pathetic you were for letting him do this in a ruddy library. Maybe this was what caused him to run a hand up your chest and clasp his hand around your throat. "Keep quiet, don't want anyone seeing you like this." he had told you, and it was the slight roll of his hips that made you unable to answer and barely take it.

You babbled, drooled, worshipped his cock with your sopping cunt until he was telling you that he loved you. He pulled on your chin to kiss you, sloppy and wet and he didn't let you answer. His glasses were pushed behind, rocking back and forth with his body, dangerously close to falling off. He was gorgeous and with your hands propped on the library shelves, you whimpered an "I love you." back. The two of you came, claiming each other and lazy smiles knowing that the feelings the both of you harbored was reciprocated, and the possibility of having something more was true.

[spencers-renaissance]

Shovel Talk

Summary: Hotch and Emily find out about Derek's relationship with Spencer and decide it's time for a chat.

Tags: fluff, humour, est. rel., protective!derek, emily, and hotch, relationship reveal, mentions of past hurt spencer

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 1.5k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

Inspired by this post by @penemily that I couldn't stop thinking about. Honestly I love this fic so much lol.

Derek isn’t quite sure how he’s found himself in a vacant office after hours, crowded into an office chair with broken wheels as the two most intimidating FBI agents he knows stand over him.

“Either of you want to tell me what the hell’s going on?” Derek asks, bewildered by how quickly his evening had changed. One minute he’s sneaking looks at Spencer over his computer screen, and the next he’s hauled off to a private room like some sort of hostage.

He’s not scared, but he’s definitely a little pissed off. It’s nearing 10pm and all he wants to do is go home with Spencer, curl up on the sofa and eat take-out in front of the TV as they celebrate closing a case in their own way. He used to celebrate by going out for a drink, falling into bed with a stranger if the opportunity arose, but a quiet evening on the sofa with his boy in his arms is surprisingly satisfying these days.

Hotch raises an eyebrow. “We know,” he says simply, something fierce behind his words.

Derek’s heart skips a beat. It’s not hard to figure out what it is he’s talking about. He and Spencer had started dating a couple of months ago but had decided to keep it under wraps for now; something so young and beautiful was too precious to expose to all the inevitable eventual complications just yet. They’re so ridiculously smitten, though, that he’s not exactly surprised two profilers paying close attention had figured it out.

Ignoring the quietly humming nerves starting up in his stomach, he mirrors Hotch’s raised eyebrow, trying not to look as affected as he feels. “So… what? You wait for Spencer to go to the bathroom to lure me to an empty office to beat me up?”

“Maybe,” Emily replies, voice dry.

Behind the nerves and the posturing, Derek can’t feel a small twinge of hurt. “Look, guys, we expected it to be a bit of a shock, but we thought you’d at least be happy for us—”

“It’s not a shock,” Hotch interrupts.

“What?”

“It’s not a shock,” Emily repeats. “Everyone saw this coming a mile off. We’re not surprised.”

Now, he’s even more lost. “Look, can you guys just sit down? You towering over me is creeping me out, man.”

“Good,” Hotch says easily.

Irritation takes over, and he stands up. “You know what, if you’re gonna be funny about it, I don’t actually have to be here.”

Before he can actually make to leave, though, Hotch is shoving him back down into the chair, old metal and plastic creaking under the force of his caught-off-guard body hitting it again. “Stay.”

“What is going on?” Derek explodes. Maybe under different circumstances he’d be able to profile the situation but as it stands, he’s stressed and confused, desperate only to be allowed to leave this dark, cramped room and take Spencer back to his place. It almost surprises him that all he craves in such a weird and unfamiliar situation is cuddles and a nature documentary, but he’s been with Spencer long enough for it to be approaching normal. The younger man’s probably back at his desk by now, wondering where he is, and Derek would hate for him to be worried. He just wants to go home.

“Derek, we are happy for you and Spencer,” Emily finally explains. “But we couldn’t in good conscience let this go on without having a… chat.” Her face twists into the faux charming expression he’s watched her use to disarm unsubs countless times. It stings a little that she’s using it on him.

He splutters a little as a realisation dawns on him, equal parts bemused and offended. “This is… this is a shovel talk!”

“Yes,” Hotch says with a straight face, his expression tight and intimidating as he tilts his head to the side slightly, clearly entirely unaffected by Derek’s emotions. “This is a shovel talk.”

Derek feels himself relax, tension easing slightly. “Guys, I appreciate the sentiment, but Spencer’s my boyfriend; nobody wants to protect him more than I do. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I’m pretty sure we could give you a run for your money,” Emily says, her expression quickly transforming into something far more dangerous and challenging than only moments previously. “Spencer has something every single member of this team would die to protect. And if you get in our way, then we’re going to have a problem.”

“Emily, what, we’re friends.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, shrugging easily, “and I love you. But Spencer is my little brother, and I would do anything to stop him from getting hurt. As long as you don’t interfere with my primary mission, we’ll be fine.”

Hotch speaks before Derek can get a word in. “Derek, I knew Spencer long before you did. I remember the first time Gideon brought him to one of our lunches, and I saw something in him that made my heart ache. It didn’t take me long to realise that what I saw were the scars left by incredible deep-seated pain. Spencer has been through hell and back throughout his life, and he’s been hurt repeatedly by people who were supposed to protect him, including Gideon. I would do anything to prevent him from getting hurt by someone like that again, you hear me? Anything.”

As confusing as this all is, Derek can’t help but feel touched by Hotch’s earnest, emotional speech. Most of his nightmares these days revolve around Spencer getting hurt, and it’s kind of reassuring to know that he has so many people in the world who will stop at nothing to prevent those horrible dreams from spiralling into reality.

He can’t help but smile a little. “I’m glad he has you two,” Derek says honestly, looking between them, “but I can assure you that if I ever hurt Spencer for some unfathomable reason, your services wouldn’t be needed. I would hate myself enough for all three of us.” Even just considering the hypothetical possibility of hurting Spencer makes his stomach turn: it’s enough for him to know that he wouldn’t need Hotch and Emily to hold him accountable to that, his own self-loathing would be punishment enough.

It seems to appease Hotch and Emily, who Derek realises look sort of like intimidating twin mafia bosses standing over him like this, and they finally step back a little, posture relaxing.

“Well, what are you waiting for then?” Emily says, smiling for real this time. “Get your boy and get home. It’s getting late, you know.”

He rolls his eyes at her as he makes his way to the door.

“Oh, and Derek,” Hotch says, laying a hand on his shoulder, turning him before he can leave, a genuine smile on his face too, “I am actually happy for you and Spencer.”

Derek grins at that. He really is a lucky, lucky man. “Thanks, Hotch.”

“What was that about?” Spencer asks, his features twisting in curiosity as Derek makes his way across the bullpen to his boyfriend, Hotch and Emily emerging from the same room moments later.

Derek doesn’t answer properly, laughing instead. “You got some good friends, you know that?”

Spencer nods, still looking a little confused, but clearly deciding to let it go as he slings his messenger bag across his body, standing up from his desk. Derek slings an arm around Spencer’s shoulders, leading him towards the exit as his insides twist at the adorable blush that colours Spencer’s cheeks so prettily.

“Derek,” he hisses, “shouldn’t we be leaving separately?”

“I think it’s a little late for that,” he chuckles, looking over his shoulder. Spencer does the same, blushing even fiercer as he spots Hotch and Emily leaning against the railing, overlooking the bullpen with all-knowing looks on their faces.

“Oh my god,” Spencer mumbles, clearly embarrassed, but Derek just laughs again as they leave the bullpen and approach the elevators.

“Come on, pretty boy,” he sighs happily, sliding the arm around his shoulders to rest at his waist, fingertips pressing into the small frame of the boy he’s already falling in love with. “Let’s get you home. That penguin documentary awaits.”

“You’re gonna watch Emperors and Kings with me?” Spencer’s happy exclamation and the delighted expression on his face only warms his heart further, and in that moment he decides that he wants a happy Spencer and another nature documentary within his reach for the rest of his life.

Surprisingly, it’s not as terrifying a thought as it might once have been.

(If Derek thinks the shovel talk from Hotch and Emily is bad, though, it’s nothing compared to the one he gets from Penelope. By the end of the next day, he’s somehow reduced to tears that are both happy and the product of extreme terror, on the receiving end of a ‘baby girl’ ban for keeping it from her for so long. In the end, he decides that it’s probably an alright price to pay for everything beautiful that his life has blossomed into over the last few months.)

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @jellejareau @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @oliverbrnch @im-autistic @anxious-enby @queerminalminds (taglist form)

[princessamericachavez]

YES HELLO CAN WE TALK ABOUT THAT FJORESTER HEART TO HEART?

THE WAY IT PARALLELED THE JELLYFISH TALK??

Fjord following Jester into trouble and momentarily doubting but eventually being like “I don’t care” because he would follow her anywhere even against his best sense

Both of them sitting there, looking out at the night ocean... like they did on a ship so long ago when Jester first opened up about her sadness.

And now she’s volunteering some of it again: 

“Look, you have to see the moon from up here [...] This is where I used to come when, you know, I lived here and I didn’t really any friends. And I would dream about leaving the city and look out in the ocean and think about all the places I could go.”

Sigh

*breathes in*

SCREAMS

guuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuys

omg remember 

“And then I don't know what. I want to explore the world. I want to see the lands we haven't seen. I want to find the things that people are scared of and solve them or do whatever anyone else needs to do. But-- I hope she's a part of that.”

I AM STILL SCREAMING I SWEAR

Anyway, we are just getting started but look at Fjord’s faces through this bit 

Because that’s when he realizes that maybe... just maybe... Jester might want the same thing he does... maybe

And then, what does he do? 

He diverts attention to something funny: her drawing dicks on the tower. Why? Because Jester is talking about something sad and Fjord wants nothing more than to cheer her up. 

And then, wishfully, Jester brings up one thing that I’ve been thinking about ever since we found out these two coast kids had been in Nicodranas for years without knowing each other. 

“I wonder if I was ever sitting up here and saw your ship go by even knowing”

“I bet”

Invisible String_Taylor Swift.mp3 

okay but also

PLEASE GUYS 

if any of you have any art skills and wants to give me that poetic image of younger Fjord and Jester, each looking up wishfully... she’s lonely and young and on top of that tall tower looking at the life she craves to live and Fjord is looking at the city full of homes like he’s never had and they are unaware that they are looking at each other’s future??

GUYS PLEASE C’MON 

ok ok ok moving on so Fjord.... 

he brings up Vandran... awkwardly... nervous... stuttering about the whoel thing... 

and his voice suggests that his optimism in Eisselcross was a front put to keep the others calm. 

And then he says the magic words: 

“Would you come with me?”

“Of course!”

Like he has to ask, please. Like she hasn’t followed him everywhere since the very first day they met. Like she wouldn’t follow him to the ends of the earth just like he has followed him through plunging falls and vertiginous heights above volcanos. 

Still Fjord, deep down still that insecure kid who faked a whole personality for months, tries to give her an out. 

“I don’t know if being on the sea is of any interest to you or if you want to stay in Nicodranas because you can now and I would totally understand.”

BOI HE JUST TOLD YOU THIS IS HER LIFE LONG DREAM

LITERALLY

STOP FREAKING OUT

“There’s... That is my favorite place to be. I love it out there.”

THE WAY SHE LOOKS OUT WITH JUST AS MUCH LONGING

“And I feel like there’s so much that we could see and share... Besides fucking Darktow is out there and we spent less that one day on it... That can’t stand”

LOOK AT THEM

THEY ARE SUCH A MESS AND SO CHAOTIC AND THEY ARE BOTH SO CURIOUS AND EXCITED FOR NEW ADVENTURES 

Also, does his tone talking about that remind anyone else to the way he talked about the possibility of finding treasure to make Marion even fancier before she meets Jester’s father again???

Because I really feel like that’s the same mood. 

The same longing for more while trying to make her laugh. 

“I would love to go out there with you. I would love to meet Vandran.”

“We could make this our port.”

“We could make this our port”

“WE COULD MAKE THIS OUR PORT”

“WE COULD MAKE THIS OUR PORT”

(sidenote this line alone could’ve sent me spiraling before they were canon... and still kinda does)

excuse me while i scream for the next ten minutes

And then Fjord drops the hint that he wants to still deal with some stuff in Port Damali

ONE SHOT WHEN TRAVIS

GIMME THAT ONE SHOT

YOU WANT IT

I WANT IT

WE ALL WANT IT 

UKOTOA WANTS IT

I WANNA MEET SABIAN AND GO TO DARKTOW AND GO TO PORT DAMALI 

PLEASE

“But... this city really is beautiful”

YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO SAY IT LOOKING AT HER LIKE THAT

AND YOU REALLY DIDN’T HAVE TO SAY IT LOOKING AT HER LIKE THAT JUST LIKE YOU DID WHEN YOU SAID THE JELLYFISH WERE BEAUTIFUL TRAVIS 

AND YET HE DID

“There’s always a home for us here”

hey hey hey hey remember that Tarot reading and Fjord’s future card being “home/the traveler”??????

BECAUSE i do

IF I MADE A DRINKING GAME WITH SHOTS EVERY TIME THIS CONVERSATION had a throw back for the campaign I WOULD END UP LIKE VETH

 “Or... maybe we could... you know... get our- our own place”

THE LOOK OF A WOMAN WHO JUST REALIZED THIS MAN WANTS TO MARRY HER (in paper graph again)

im sorry but the rest of the cast’s faces are too good to let out 

And then Jester gets SO EXCITED THAT SHE CAN’T EVEN SPEAK

because this boy

this man 

this man she loves

he wants to spend his life with her

this isn’t just a “come have adventures and fun with me” proposition 

this is a “spend your life with me proposition”

and while she can’t talk of course Fjord panics

much like she did after the “i love you”

because these idiots are really made for eachother and still stumbling through their own confusing feelings for each other even after so long as friends and they are so afraid of screwing it up 

But when finally she speaks, when Jester says “yes”... her tone isn’t just a “yes”... THAT YES SOUNDS LIKE AN “I DO”

And they are both so nervous and happy okay?

And then

OKAY LISTEN STRAIGHT OUR OF A ROMCOM 

He looks at her

and she meets his gaze

and they both look down blushing

and then she looks at him first

and he meets her gaze

and they don’t look down this time, this time is steady... because they both know they love each other

“I’m really glad that everything happened the way it did”

“Yeah, me too.”

Good and bad. Tumbles and crushes and heartbreaks and deaths and tears and fights and laughter and adventures and doubts and confusion and longing and pining and protecting each other and fighting together and falling and rising and catching each other and healing each other and looking out for each other  because it all lead to this... to this moment where they are together and so sure that they are loved and cherished and that this is where they want to be and there’s so much more in their future to look forward to

And Jester snuggles up to him and Travis does the tiniest move to show how he leans against her that just DESTROYS me 

and of course Fjord needs to make a joke then, to lighten the mood, because these two disasters are friends first and foremost and is in their chaos that they understand each other

and they have so many adventures ahead

i love them so much you guys

im going to miss them so bad

i love them

oh god

[hournites]

Monster

2x08 SPOILERS AND ANGST IM SORRY IM A MESS 

~.~

The bars are cold between his clenched sweaty palms. The metal clangs against his throbbing head as his heart pounds and the breath shakes out of him like fresh air will never make it down his lungs again. Blooded hair flicks over his face and the vision of Courtney and Pat’s face doubles before him. 

Courtney runs to the bars separating them. Her fists resting on top of his as they cling hard on rust. Panicky promises of help and reassurance she doesn’t know how to give ring in his ears. It’s just noise. Rick doesn’t want to hear it. 

“Beth-” She says and Rick freezes. Her name slaps him hard like one of Matt’s hits. 

“I don’t want to talk to Beth!” His shout rattles the entire room. “I don’t want to talk to anyone!” Courtney spooks. Pat’s hand yanks her from his reach in the cell. Rick didn’t mean that. He didn’t mean to scare Courtney, he didn’t mean to scream like that. He didn’t mean to get to this bleak point. He didn’t mean to screw his life up like this. He didn’t mean to get close enough to people for them to hurt when he snapped at them. He didn’t mean to develop anything towards Grundy. He didn't mean to try this hard. He didn’t mean to start to forgive. He didn’t mean to destroy his uncle. Not at that moment anyway. Except for the fact he always secretly did. He didn’t mean to ever love anyone enough to disappoint them like this. To care about what he’d done tonight and what it really meant. To feel the hollowness in his chest when he thought about tomorrow. Or the day after. Or every year next. 

It’s too late to take that back. 

His life is over. His hourglass is smashed to pieces. His dad’s legacy in a rash fit of anger. Gone. Any chance of a future. Gone. The only house Rick ever tried to feel at home in. Gone. 

His body shudders as his back meets the far cell wall. His legs go weak as he slides to the ground, hands in his hair. He pulls at it and dry heaves. 

It doesn’t matter that it wasn’t real. That girl was real in the lake. Dead eyes up at the grey sky. Bow in her hair. Mud seeped into her skin. Water in her mouth. His parents were real.

Rick hisses in another laboured breath, squeezing his eyes shut tight and fights against the bile that rises from his stomach. Maybe he’ll just let that choke and drown him. 

“The kid’s losing it,” an officer rumbles into his walkie talkie, watching him from the corner of his eye. 

“I’m sorry,” he sobs and he means it as vomit lands on his worn dirt-stained shoes. And then that’s all he can say before throwing up again. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to-” His uncle’s smashed unrecognizable face flashes fast. The same dark eyes as Mom and the same shade of her hair that tumbled down her shoulders splattered with red gunked blood. Rick’s struck a sudden dose of terror.  “I can’t ever go home.” The whisper tumbles out in a shock numb. “I can’t ever go home. Pat! I can’t ever go--” His voice breaks. “I can’t go back there again!”

“Rick, son,” Pat’s voice cuts in. “We’re not going to worry about that right now. We just want-” It distorts out. Rick can’t hear him no matter how hard he strains his ears. The metal bars greet his hands again, he rocks forward. His nose is blocked and his head rages with a migraine so bad his skull is about to split. “I can’t--”  Why is he talking about going back home? There is no more home. It’s done. It’s over. There’s no second chance for people like Rick. Each dizzying realization spirals into another. He’s sinking into desperation, and it’s a different kind, a more feral anguish that runs through him like blood. Rick can’t go home. He can’t get his stuff. His uncle is going to take his car. They’re going to rip him out of school. He’s going to get expelled. He’ll have nowhere to live. Nobody is going to want him. Nobody is going to care. 

“Rick-” 

Rick does want Beth. The force of the need tears up his insides. He does want her. He wants her so bad he can’t even walk straight. Can’t breathe, can’t see, can’t blink clearly. Courtney passes him a towel and clean shirt through the holding cell bars. What is he supposed to do with it? He can’t even think straight. His nerves are shot. His entire world is over. There’s nothing left. He can strip off the shirt and the shoes and wash the mess and grime and evidence of his crimes. But it won’t strip Rick from the truth. Of what he really is. What he’s always been capable of. Who he was always meant to become. 

“Rick!? Rick!? I heard what happened, I’m on my way.” 

The phone in his hand is Pat’s. He’s not sure when it got there. Or how long she’s been talking in his ear. 

“Beth?” he croaks. 

“Rick. It’s me. My dad is driving me to the station. I’m almost there.” Rick looks up at Pat and Courtney. The curious police officer as they mirror back his helpless shocked-blank face. “I’m almost there,” she says again. 

His heart rips out like a cord. 

He can’t let her see this. She can’t be here. After what she thought about Yolanda? Beth’ll take one look at him and change every positive thought she’s ever had. Stop ever sending one of her smiles his way. 

Please stay home, he almost begs. But the words get lodged, stuck in his acid-burnt throat. What’s the use. Beth already knows. He can’t change anything now. Beth will see what he’s become. She’ll see the ugliness he truly is. 

Her voice is scared but firm. Strong. She’d always been. Beth was always and Rick was not. 

“Rick? Please. Please say something. You can talk to me.” 

The exhaustion attacks him. The thoughts scatter and it gets too hard. He can’t process, can’t function. Can’t fucking live. 

The side-door moves. A red checkered shirt blurs in front of his eyes. Two hands clasped over his hands again, squeezing warmth and life and hope he doesn’t deserve through jail bars. He blinks and focuses. The sliver of relief vanishes in thin air.

It’s not even Beth’s eyes. The green goggles lit up between them. Beth’s too scared. Too afraid to even be fucking face to face with the monster he’s become. 

Rick sobs. 

[noritoshiikamo]

driver’s license 

cause you said forever, now I drive alone passed your street [au where suna is a doctor specialized in memory removal and his last patient of the day is his ex]

pairing: suna rintarou + fem!reader genre: pain, angst, doctor!suna + patient!reader tags//warning: medical procedure of mind erasing, slight suicide ideation, alcohol abuse note: the obligatory trio of mine: not well edited, lowercase intended, english isnt my first language im sorry if i murder it. the songs made me brawled i had to write something about it and i just so happened to finish haikyuu

“it’s odd,” he looked up from the computer screen, osamu approached him pointing to the screen, the last name listed in the appointment schedule under dr suna rintarou. please don’t say it please don’t say anything, he begged silently in his head. “she kinda has her name. haven’t heard her name in ages,” osamu shrugged, grabbing his next patient’s files, “want to get lunch later?” the doctor popped in another stick of gum, leaving before suna could even said a word.

funny that osamu said that. that is his girlfriend. he moved the cursor and clicked at the name. the birthplace, the date, her eye colour, the address and her number; it matches everything he ever memorized of her. except they are no longer together. it has been a month since their breakup.

 she’s an architect. not by choice but she likes art. she’s talented and had once held an art show during school’s open day where they met. she didn’t draw him until they started dating, but she had known some of his close friends who was the subject of her drawings. her parents disproved of her ambitious and to compromise, she agreed to take architectural instead. she stopped drawing completely and suna was the only person in japan that has the largest collection of her paintings stuffed in boxes and behind shelves.

 suna rintarou has been a doctor in inarizaki institute for 5 years now. inarizaki institute was different from others. it was the only medical institution that had successfully developed a procedure to remove unwanted memories. he’s one of the qualified doctors for said procedure. he had done the procedure multiple times now, even on his former high school friends and families but never his own girlfriend.

 is it him she’s removing from her memories?

 he didn’t remember how they broke up. maybe it’s because he was too busy. maybe it’s because she had fallen out of love with him. maybe they just couldn’t stand being in each other’s spaces, but it happened so quickly. she moved out from their apartment, returned when he left to clear out her stuff and he just threw himself back to work.

 he did remember how they met. she was the miya brothers’ neighbor. one night when he came to visit them during semester break years ago, they were in their parents’ car with a girl. suna felt like he had recognized but couldn’t think of where or when. “oi, suna,” the window rolled down and asamu called him over, “come in!” despite being weirded out, he entered the back door of the car. “we are teaching our friend how to drive; can you believe it? she’s in our university and can’t drive to save a life.”

 “shut the fuck up, atsumu or i’ll run you over,” she muttered angrily as she moved the driving gear.

 suna saw the stick going down to reverse instead down further and he immediately reached for her hand. the girl startled at the stranger’s sudden touch. “what the fuck are you d-doing?” she choked up.

 “you’re going to reverse into the wall,” he muttered bluntly, pouting his mouth to the gear. grabbing the stick through her hand, he pulled the gear into drive before letting her hand go. the light from the post shined in and he could see red flush on her face as she nodded, “oh okay, yeah d,” she muttered to herself. she started driving. she wasn’t exactly bad; she just needed a lot of practice.

 so he came over every day of his semester break and accompanied them as she practiced her driving.

 “i can drive you home?” she offered on the last night of his break before he returned to school.

 “you don’t have too.”

 “i insisted,” to which suna agreed and she glanced back at the miya brothers, “get the fuck out.” despite their disgruntlement and the it’s my mum’s car argument, she managed to kick them out. it was just two of them together. “so, i know we went to same high school and university. how come we have never crossed path before?” she questioned as she took her first turn. she memorized the roads to his home. suna shrugged as he fidgeted with the corner of the jacket’s zipper, “i played volleyball in high school.”

 she chuckled, “i’ve never watched any sport matches in high school, sorry. anyway, i’m a last year architectural student by the way. are you taking the same course as osamu?” she glanced at him with a smile. his heart skipped a beat. “y-yeah. i’m in my 5th year of medical.”

 “why not volleyball player?”

 “i got bored.”

 she let a soft exhale and shrugged, “fair enough. i took architectural to please my mother so i’m in no position to give any advice.” she slowed down in front of his house before pulling into a full stop. she pulled into parking and pulled the hand brake. she smiled and fist pumped herself, “did you see that? perfect stop!” suna didn’t expect what was going to happen next. he watched out of control as his arm reached out for her face and pulling her close. what he remembered being in control was asking her boldly whether he could kiss her.

her eyes sparkled and she smiled so widely, “yes.”

so, he did.

she moved into his apartment at the end of his graduation. she didn’t get any job for the first few months while he entered inarizaki institute as medical officer. she took commissions online and waited tables while going to a couple of interviews. he saw a decline in her motivation. when suna returned one night, he found her behind the sofa, drunk out of her mind. what spooked him wasn’t the bottles of whiskey on the floor but the stainless-steel paint scrapper she stabbed the canvas with. she could’ve hurt herself. but, putting her into therapy and pulling strings with some of her friends, she recovered, and he got her an interview. suna watched as she dreadfully shoved her portfolios and files into her bag. 

“you’ll be alright,” he reassured, bringing her a cup of coffee. she sighed and pushed her bangs back, “i don’t know, rin. i just don’t feel like getting another rejection after another and then i’ll just spiral into a-” he stopped her rambling with a kiss. he tasted like coffee; she tasted like their toothpaste. every time she tried to pull away, he pulled her back into the kiss and she could feel him laughing against her lips. “this is going to turn into something else,” she whispered between the kiss and he nodded. he was half aroused. she drank the coffee and kissed him one last time. he felt her fingers slipped from his grip. she stood by the door and waved back.

 “see you?” she beamed.

 “always.”

 suna snapped out of his own memory when an alarm blared out. he looked up past the nurses’ counter and saw a patient being pushed out of room B by a couple of nurses. he knew what goes on in that room; he helped in perfecting the procedure. osamu followed soon. he tugged the blue gloves off and shoved them into the yellow bin. “you would not believe who I met in the waiting room?” by the look of his face, osamu already got the feeling that suna already knew. osamu flipped his file and pulled out a pen. he signed the bottom of the pages and dumping it in the completed pile. “did she tell you?” suna asked.

 “about?” the other doctor asked.

 “the memories she’s erasing. did she tell you?”

 osamu shook his head and pocketed his hand in the white coat. “she asked about you. whether you’re around. i said yeah, he’s on call and she just smiled.” suna stood up and grabbed the file. he felt conflicted. osamu stopped the man before he could enter the room. “look man, I’m sorry about whatever happen between you guys and I’m in no position to judge at all.”

 suna shrugged and smiled, “it’s fine. we were just ruining each other.” the other man nodded understandingly before excusing himself. suna wanted to move but his feet felt heavy. he was glued down. room B was just a few feet away, but he couldn’t move. this is it. the end of them.

 he forced himself into the room. standing in front of the panels and monitor, separating him and her was a one-way mirror. she sat on the seat, talking to the nurses in charge. his heart hurts. she had bangs now framing her face. she’s slight thinner and no longer wore the charm bracelet he gave during their first anniversary. the nurse placed a heart-beat monitor on her thumb and attached a couple more of sensors to her brain, forehead, and neck. his monitor lightened up and spitted out the information. this is it. “doctor, she’s requesting of removal of memory from 2009 up to last month,” the nurse’s words went in his ears and out. it’s of him.

 all his own memories flashed through his mind.

 the memories of every kisses, hugs, the late nights and the earliest of days, the coffees, the spilled paints. memories of every tear he ever wiped and for ever meals she had ever cooked. memories of all the paints of him that she had gifted to him and every night she drove down his streets. for every missed calls and unread texts. the way she touched him and the way she made him felt. he felt suffocated.

 how could he ever love someone else?

 “everything is accordingly. you may press the start, doctor.”

 he looked at the flashing button and back to her. she was looking right at him. she might not see him, but she is looking straight at him and she looked so beautiful. a small smile appeared on her lips as her fingers fidgeted nervously. he felt tears prickling his eyes. his fingers brushed against the button and he slowly pressed it. 

 it took them 7 years to build this much of memories together and it took him 3 minutes to erase it clean from her mind.

 she was drowsy and she had tears running down her face. the nurses rushed in after the red light disappeared and green light beamed. the alarm rang. another memory successfully. “I’m okay, I’m okay.” he heard her from the opened door. shutting off the machine, he immediately rushed out for the door, feared that he might bumped into her and lost it. he hid his shaking hands in his pocket and gritted his teeth.

 “doctor?”

 he stopped. the world stopped spinning and he felt lightheaded. the way she called for him didn’t change, the tone and the pronunciation were the same. it was always melodious yet painful. he turned around to see her being wheelchaired out of the room by the nurse. her eyes were slightly red, and her nose were puffy. the nurse passed her a cup of water. she smiled politely, thanking her and took the cup in her hand. she took a sip, coughing at the coldness of the water down her dried throat. it’s the side effect of the procedure.

 “have we met before?” she asked, innocently.

 suna shook his head and smiled weakly, “no, we haven’t.” he turned to the nurse and nodded. before the nurse could ushered her away, she called him out again. 

 with a smile on her face, she waved goodbye, “see you, doctor?”

 “always.”

[k1ng-for-a-day]

Hello!!! I was wondering if you have any fluffy relationship headcanons for Danny Johnson (Ghostface), plz? Thank you.

OH MY GOD IM SO SORRY THIS IS REALLY LATE ITS JUST I HAD SCHOOL AND STUFF AND A BIT OF BLOCKAGE, BUT DON’T WORRY I GOT YOU COVERED-

Also (F/S) means favorite survivor!

A fluff relationship with Danny.... hmm... I’ll feature survivor since I think that would be fun.

🩸💔When you first encountered Ghostface, you were scared to say the least. From what you heard from your other team members he is known for being very, very stealthy, and will do anything to catch his prey. Nevertheless you had to put on a straight face before entering this hell hole.

🩸💔As you almost complete your Gen, you heard a very strange noise. It was like wind blowing against a bush, but everything was still. Nothing was out of the ordinary; so it seemed. You decided to check the area around you in order to remain ‘stable’. Though you were absolutely terrified of this killer, looking around shouldn’t be a bad idea... right? It would definitely eliminate the chances of sudden death, (and possibly relief your stress), but is it truly worth it?

🩸💔Upon further inspection there was absolutely nothing. Everything was fine, except that your generator was lower than last time. Wait... how is it lower? There was no one around from what you could tell, so how did this even happen? Maybe it was because of hex ruin, but you even checked if that was the case before doing the Gen. it must mean one thing; he’s here. He must be staring at you right now.

🩸💔With this realization in your head, you decided to hide somewhere near that area. What you wanted to do is wait until he lost interest to do it again. Your other teammates had already completed a Gen, but strangely enough none of them were getting hurt. It was immensely strange, unusual, and very intriguing. You decided to go back to your generator, and finally complete it. Two gens were finally completed, but no killer; Or so you thought.

🩸💔Suddenly, there came a noise in the distance. You jumped a bit, and slowly walked away from it. The more you walk away, the louder it got. You ran to the other direction, but it was still getting louder. You kept looking behind you, searching around the area, hiding in lockers, and hell you even screamed a bit, but there was no Ghostface. Nothing at all. At this point you were... confused to say the least. You decided to see if your teammates were doing alright, and your eyes beamed opened. Everyone of them were on a hook besides you. Somehow you were alive throughout this torment, while the others were being chased. It was strange how he kept you alive to begin with.

🩸💔You decided to unhook your teammates, heal them, and attempt to get some gens done before Ghostface would catch up to you. You checked if your teammates were alright, and they seemed to be fine- ‘wait... what is that heart beat? Aren’t I working with someone?’ You thought for a quick minute, and turned around slowly. There was nothing. You check the opposite side of the Gen, and there he was. Ghostface was staring right at you, probably smirking underneath his mask. You screamed.

🩸💔You quickly got off the Gen, and sprinted as fast as you could! You stared behind you, noting how close he was, and attempted to loop him as much as possible! You tried to distract him as much as you can, while noting how well the others were doing, but you were becoming weak! Your legs were becoming tired, and you were running out of breath. For a good 10 minutes you and Ghostface were at each other’s necks! Until you vaulted.

🩸💔At that single vault he picked you up gently. He put you on his shoulders and carried you to presumably a hook. You attempted to wiggle your way out, trying to find a branch or something to help you escape, but to no avail. You were helpless. There was nothing you could do. Fortunately, a teammate of yours were able to shine a flashlight at the killer, causing him to drop you instantly! You quickly ran away from him again, and he stared back at you with a possible frustrated glint.

🩸💔After a while you checked to see how many gens were done and there was one more to be completed. Strangely enough two people had died already, and one of them was about to be hooked. Sadly you were on the opposite side of the map, which made it difficult to save him. It was his last hook anyway. Now it was up to you to live through this nightmare, but why did it have to be you? How were you going to live through this? Questions like these spiraled around your brain for a moment, but you had to do something. You needed to escape quickly before he comes...

🩸💔You slowly removed yourself off the Gen you were working on, and attempted to find the hatch. Unfortunately enough the figure you implored not to see was right there standing on the hatch. He stared at you with a teasing glint, and was about to close it. You quivered, slowly approaching him, and tearing up. You didn’t know what to do at all. Everything you did for this team was for nothing. You put your fucking life into it while the others were doing nothing. But was it even worth it? Was all that hard work worth the punishment? What were you even living for? It certainly wasn’t for Ghostface, nor was it for yourself. You might as well give yourself to him and let him take it.

🩸💔Oddly enough he didn’t kill you. Instead he slashed you to the ground, picked you up, and spun around. It was really strange, but you didn’t mind. It was kinda fun to spin around until you were a bit dizzy.

🩸💔After that fun little moment of his, he finally spoke to you, “I finally caught you! You’re all mine!” He giggled childishly, and you kinda laughed along with him. Mainly you were a bit terrified of being slaughtered, but that wasn’t his intentions currently. He was just happy.

🩸💔”You looked so terrified dear! I kinda feel pity. But don’t worry, I’ll give it to you. You can have the hatch.” He said in a cheerful tone, and took a quick photo of you. It was weird how he quickly pulled it out just for you, but you didn’t mind. You quickly went through the hatch, but would regret it later on.

🩸💔Once you returned to the lobby, you decided to talk to your fellow survivors. Your friend group consisted of Claudette, Steve, Feng, Dwight, Felix, and (F/S). When you told them about what happened, they were all immensely shocked. They even thought you were joking. Usually Ghostface is such a terrifying killer, and him just sparing you like that? Unbelievable. However, one of your friends did believe you, and that was (F/S). They were completely convinced about it, and tried to even convince the others. The only one that was somewhat naive to believe this was Claudette, however Dwight convinced her that this HAD to be false. Steve and Felix were quiet, (and probably overthinking), and Feng was rolling your eyes at you.

🩸💔Later on Claudette, (F/S), and Dwight decided to join a match with you, however it wasn’t that fun. You didn’t see Ghostface and there was an insane Michael Myers after you. How great....

🩸💔In the end, you lost the match. It was really, really awful. When you told Felix and Feng about it, they felt empathy towards you. Hell Feng tried to teach you some new tricks, and Felix decided to give you a flashlight for your effort. He also tried to teach you one of his perks, however that didn’t go so well...

🩸💔You decided to go into another match with Felix, Steve, and Feng in order to find Ghostface. Again you were set with another killer; the pig. She was somewhat annoying, however you got used to it after a while. Her patterns were somewhat repetitive, and overall the match became simple.

🩸💔This repetitive joining matches, being disappointed, and ending up ranting to your teammates kept repeating on and on. It was getting annoying. And finally there was one last match. This had to be the luckiest one.

🩸💔The people with you were Felix, Dwight, and (F/S). Strangely enough (F/S) seemed more nervous than usual. They had some sort of warm blush on them, while the other two were simply talking calmly. You notice their blush and went up to them, trying to see what was going on with them. They stared at you and smiled. You asked, “are you ok? You scared?” but they didn’t say anything. They just smiled and chuckled a bit. Was there something on you? Then they replied, “Y-yeah I’m fine. It’s just somethings on my mi-“ suddenly the match was about to load. You could feel a cold shiver down your spine, and that sudden cliffhanger made you subtly intrigued.

🩸💔Luckily someone must’ve put in shroud of union because you were with (F/S). They slowly went up to you with that cute blushing face of theirs and spoke, “Hey S/O... I wanted to tell you this for a while, and it’s really hard to say this but,” they paused for a bit, “I like you a lot.”

🩸💔You blushed at that sudden confession. Where did this even come from?! How long did they have these feelings for?! Nevertheless you decided to stay quiet, practically stunned, and shook your head.

🩸💔You finally spoke, “well I...um...” you said nervously, but then you heard a slight vault. No, not a slight vault; a rush. The killer was near.

🩸💔”We have to get out of here now!” (F/S screamed, and you two quickly ran. Suddenly you saw Felix and Dwight making out completing a generator and you look behind you. There he was; Ghostface in his full form.

🩸💔As (F/S) ran for there life instead of protecting you, you stared back at Ghostface and decided to loop him for a bit. It lasted for about five minutes until you tripped on something. And he caught you right then and there.

🩸💔”Who was that person you were with? I heard what you two were doing....” he spoke in a very furious tone. It was strange since you only saw him once.

🩸💔”S-stalker,” you said accidentally, “why does it matter? They’re just my friend anyway.” He stared at you again, putting his knife against your throat and chuckling deviantly.

🩸💔”It’s so unfortunate that you’re my obsession, and that I could kill you right here right now,” he warned, “but your lucky I’m nice for today. I’ll let you go if you decline that dumbass love interest of yours.” Within his speech, you could sense a heap of fear lurking on your throat. You didn’t know what to do but oblige.

🩸💔As you tried to find (F/S), you spotted Felix opening a chest. Classic Felix, never change. You went up to him and asked if he saw (F/S) and he replied with a somewhat joyful response, “Actually yeah I did. They’re with Dwight right now working on a generator... I hope...”

🩸💔”Thank you Felix.” You bowed and left to find (F/S). Suddenly you heard talking from both of them, which was... strange. You slowly eavesdropped on them only to find (F/S) and Dwight having some sort of... fun...

🩸💔”(F/S) what the hell?! I thought you liked me!” You screamed out, and they stared at you guiltily. “Well, you didn’t say yes or no so...”

🩸💔”That’s no fucking excuse for your actions. You know what? No. I’m not accepting your confession. Hell Dwight, I thought you were better than this!” You yelled and quickly ran out of the area.

🩸💔Felix saw you running, and so did your biggest enemy...

🩸💔As you ran away, you could hear someone approaching you, but you were afraid of who it was. You took a peak and saw none other than Ghostface. Felix was about to approach you, but saw him in front of you. He was shaking from a distance.

🩸💔”So, you must’ve said no Hmm..? Good child. You deserve a treat.” The masked figure flirted. “Y’know, I think I want (F/S) to be camped. Hell, even moriied.” You told him straight to his face. He seem to smile under the mask and nod along. Hell he was even clapping. “Good good! I’m so glad! I’ll deliver your request in no time-“ you stared at him and spoke, “before you do, what’s your name?”

🩸💔”M-my name?” He asked, and looked around for any survivors. Felix was hiding behind a bush. Luckily Ghostface was smarter than to say his first name. “My name is Danny. Nice to meet you...”

🩸💔You replied, “S/O. Nice to meet you as well.”

🩸💔Felix then slowly walked out of his hiding place, and decided to keep quiet about what he heard. Once Danny was gone, he went up to you.

🩸💔”S-so how was (F/S) and Dwight..?” He asked. “Oh,” you spoke, “they were having some type of “fun” without us.”

🩸💔Felix raised his eyebrow and spoke again, “What do you mean by fun..?”

🩸💔”Well, (F/S) confessed to me, and then Dwight and them did things...”

🩸💔”That is such a bitchy move. I-I’m so sorry.”

🩸💔”Don’t worry. I’ll get my revenge, and maybe you can help my little technician.” You winked and told him the plan.

🩸💔Once you and Felix found the perfect Gen, you lure Dwight and (F/S) to it. As you were doing the generator, Felix ‘accidentally’ messed up, and you two went out of the area. You waited till Ghostface approached them with his stalking abilities and strike! They were both down within seconds!

🩸💔He then hooked them both, slashing them with his weapon one more time for good measure. Throughout the rest of the game, you and Felix completed other generators while the other two slowly died.... Or they disconnected.

🩸💔Back at the lobby, Dwight and (F/S) were mad at both of you. They also told Claudette, Steve, and Feng about the situation. Feng and Claudette sided with you two since they either felt bad, (or thought it was pretty intriguing). Steve, on the other hand, decided to side with Dwight and (F/S). Since then you never really talked with them too much.

🩸💔Ever since then, you tried to join matches to find Danny and chat with him for a bit. Sometimes Felix would join in with you and chat with him too, but he wouldn’t bother you two that much.

🩸💔When you talked to Danny, you started to learn more about him. He was actually really cool and loved to photograph things. His photography was AMAZING, and his overall aesthetic was spectacular. Additionally his writing was also very interesting. He mainly wrote in cursive, but without it was still very impressive.

🩸💔Sometimes, when the entity was resting or in a match, he would bring you to his old “shack”, and show you the articles he wrote. They were all beautifully hand crafted, and yet this seemed something like a story. It was like a fairy tale come to life, but this was a more murderous story. It was... thrilling. Besides that he seemed to show you more at any chance he could get. He should you photographs, articles, stories, scripts, and practically anything he could find that had his signature. Some of them, however, weren’t shown to you for whatever reason. Nevertheless you were patient enough to wait it out until one day...

🩸💔”Hey... Danny,” you spoke, “why won’t you show me some of your articles? Some of them even had this Jed Olsen person on i-“

🩸💔”I-it’s nothing! Absolutely nothing! It’s just a-an interesting name for a guy I know! Yeah! YEAH!” He chuckled nervously, with his obvious lie.

🩸💔You glared at him slightly, and he sighed. “Fine. Jed Olsen is my actual name. Some of the articles actually had my real name on them, and I didn’t want to tell you since I’m afraid you’d snitch. Since I kind of though you were a bitch.”

🩸💔”Whatever Jed,” you spoke, “why couldn’t you just trust me before? Like a week ago or something?”

🩸💔He paused for a bit, but finally explained, “Well I was afraid that you’d tell the other survivors since most of them are like that. Like I could tell Steve that Michael Myers is a man child, and he would tell the whole entire army of you. And then we’d get humiliated, shattered, and be live stock!” He posed dramatically, and you simply laughed at him,

🩸💔”Oh my god Danny- s-stop!” You cried.

🩸💔He giggled shortly after, with a slight smile underneath his mask. “I’m guessing you’re also craving something... else...?” He winked with a hint of flirting.

🩸💔”And what would that be?” You asked flirtatiously, somewhat replying.

🩸💔He chuckled chaotically calm, “you want to see what’s underneath the mask don’t you?”

🩸💔”Sure. If you’re in the mood.”

🩸💔Slowly he took off his mask, and revealed who he truly was. He shook his head a bit, and stared up at you with his dark, hazel eyes. His hair was this dark brown, he was overall a bit of tan. Just a slight hint,

🩸💔”Not what you expected huh?” He giggled. His voice was a bit more higher than what you were use to. It was somewhat cute actually.

🩸💔”Actually I kind of thought you would look like this. But not like... a twink per say.” You chuckled a bit, and Danny simply blushed in response.

🩸💔”S-shut up!” He exclaimed cutely.

🩸💔”Then,” you smirked, “make me, Jed Olsen.”

🩸💔”Bet.” He then slowly approached you, somewhat menacingly, and kissed you on the lips. His lips were soft, but tough in its own way. His kisses were a slight bit skinny, but overall enjoyable. He slowly hold you as you two kissed. His touch was mesmerizing; soft, and rough. He was so warm, cuddly, and just immensely cute! You scored big this time around!

[ttttaehyungie]

sincerely, but no longer yours | chapter 5

previous | next

series masterlist

sincerely, but no longer yours | ex!kim namjoon x reader

genre | angst, smut, exes au

summary | It started as a coping mechanism as getting the words out provided a form of catharsis. But now you can’t stop writing these love letters, even with the knowledge that they’ll never get sent. After all, who writes love letters to their ex?

word count | 5.2k

chapter rating | 18+

warnings | angst, smut (but it’s angsty smut lksjdflk help), nipple play, dry humping, alcohol consumption, someee intense jealousy

a/n | FIRST OF ALL im so sorry this is so incredibly late lskjdflkjs life has been extremely busy for me 😪 but it’s here!!!! thank you to everybuddy who’s been waiting patiently for this 🤧🤧 but i think this is one of the most angsty chapters of the series soooo ����

Namjoon’s an expert at avoiding uncomfortable topics, even if they’re massively serious. It’s something you absolutely hated and it was the cause of many arguments in your previous relationship, and perhaps was even the ultimate cause of your breakup.

But right now, you’re really beginning to understand the appeal.

The first time he swung by the museum for lunch after his birthday celebration - a paper bag in hand filled with bagels still warm and toasty from the store on the corner that you adore - you were caught entirely off guard.

Your mind jumps to the unread messages sitting in your texts and you regret ignoring them. Not because the guilt had hit you, but because maybe if you had been contactable, you would have received a heads-up that he was coming by.

Some might call it selfish, but you prefer to call it self-preservation.

To be fair, it’s not like you were going to leave them unanswered forever. You just needed space to collect your thoughts and make sense of your confusing emotions first, lest you begin the conversation prematurely and drag Namjoon down into the dizzying depths of your current state. As it is right now, your thoughts are like nodes floating in a decontextualized void, the web still unformed because you haven’t had the time to grapple with everything yet.

But here he is, inspecting the cross-section of each bagel Soo-eun pulls out of the bag, trying to identify which is which. Yeri’s at his side, gushing about how great the bagels from this place are. The three of them are crowded around the paper bag that sits on the wooden bench, the paint peeling from the way it’s been bleached by the sun in the museum’s outdoor area. Here he is at your workplace. With your friends. You can’t ignore him now, not without rousing your friends’ suspicion.

But what you can ignore is the issue.

It’s not the time nor the place to talk about this anyway. The atmosphere is warm and light, carrying traces of last night’s celebratory mood. The lunch treat is Namjoon’s way of appreciating the surprise you guys organized for him last night. And there’s a bagel stuffed full of salty sweet ham and sticky melty cheese waiting for you to sink your teeth into. Really not the time for serious conversations at all.

So when Namjoon’s eyes search yours, all wide and probing, as you step in to grab your share, you simply smile and thank him, before slinking away to join Soo-eun on the next bench. Not too far - barely five steps away - but far enough that it gives you space to breathe. Even if Namjoon notices your attempts at escaping, he doesn’t have time to call you out on it. Not when you slyly shoot Yeri a wink. Seamlessly, she catches the cue and sits herself down on the bench, tugging at his arm. For once, you welcome Yeri flirting with Namjoon.

“Let’s eat! I’m starving,” she says.

You don’t miss the way Namjoon’s gaze flickers between you and Yeri, but you ignore it and take a generous bite of the bagel in your hands.

“Mm, so good,” you say, and turn to Soo-eun. “Don’t you miss the days before this place got really popular?”

“No, because you and Yeri insisted on going there every day. I can only ingest so many bagels a week.”

“____ hasn’t changed one bit.” Namjoon chuckles. “This time in middle school, she ate tater tots every single day for three weeks straight. She had to be banned for a week.”

“Are you weaponizing my middle school past against me?” you ask amidst your friends’ laughter. “Too bad. I don’t regret it for a second. Tater tots are too delicious to regret.”

Lunch falls back into the easy rhythm of lighthearted jibes, the kitchen debacle receding for now.

Procrastination is a real bitch of a habit to kick. As soon as one reason to put it off expires, your brain churns out another two in its place like a modern-day Hydra.

As for Namjoon? Well, you’re not surprised when he makes no moves to initiate the difficult conversation. After all, you’re adopting his bad habit.

Eventually it gets to the point where you might as well not talk about it at all. Everything’s going fine so far without it. Or as fine as it can be with this beast looming in the backdrop.

You know you need to just get this damn conversation over with. But you can’t. Not till you figure out what exactly is going on with your emotions. Without it, there’s no way you can cauterize the wounds and invalidate your excuses for what they are -- excuses.

It’s not that you haven’t tried. But it’s presenting itself as a real Herculean effort. Mulling it over has you tossing and turning in bed, only leaving you with a headache and a steadily growing desperation. It’s desperation enough that you leave the comfortable warmth of your bed to sit at your desk, shivering as you pen the familiar words once again.

Dear Namjoon,

The words flow in their usual, unrestricted manner. Before, it had been like a dam breaking, the tight restraint that was normally kept on your emotions finally released and the wave of emotions gushing out till it reached a peaceful equilibrium. But now, your emotions are just a whirlpool and your words you pen mimic its spiralling, chasing your thoughts in endless loops.

You’re not over him. But so what? It’s not like getting together is an option. Not when he hasn’t grown out of one of the major things that caused the end of your previous relationship. And not when you haven’t even talked that out, if you ever will.

So what can you do now? Kicking him out of your life will mean having to deal with the loss that his absence will bring again. Going back to pretending the other doesn’t exist will mean dancing around each other again every time you bump into each other in this too small city. And with the way your social circles are intertwined now, that would mean a bunch of explaining to do.

But having him close yet holding him at arm’s length? Walking the narrow margin that is being friends with your ex? A misstep in either direction would be torturous but inevitable - too close and it’s alarming, but too far and it’s a painful reminder that he’s not yours.

Far from the illuminating effect you were hoping it would have, your letter to Namjoon only leaves you deeper in confusion. You throw your pen down. Giving up, you fold the paper up. Sealing the letter in an envelope doesn’t bring the same sense of relief it did before. The Hydra remains unslain.

And so the problem gets shoved away - the same treatment the letter gets as it’s roughly tossed into the desk drawer - into the same corner of the recesses of your mind that your breakup resides in.

You know that Namjoon’s confused. Heck, you are too. It’s a strange dance the two of you are involved in, caught between the compulsion to continue yet knowing the risks it bears. Neither of you are bold enough to take the lead. And so this strange stasis drags on as it has for weeks now.

It’s as if the kiss unearthed something in him. Actually no, it’s unearthed something in both of you. And the tension - the fucking tension - is unreal. The tells are so obvious that you wonder how neither Yeri nor Soo-eun have said anything about it yet. There’s certainly no subtlety in the way his eyes linger on your lips in the middle of conversations that you wonder if he’s even aware he’s doing it.

And when it’s just the two of you? It’s infinitely worse.

It’s hard to blame him. Touch has always been your love language and Namjoon knows it. Physical touch wasn’t just a thing of your previous two-year relationship. It was a thing of your decades of friendship too, the little touches so casual and almost subconscious. Rekindling your friendship without them had taken intentional effort.

You’re not sure who started it. Maybe both of you just fell back into it, the casual little touches slipping their way back in. But what’s not casual at all is the way your heartbeat goes erratic at the most simple of gestures. The way he blithely sweeps the crumbs from your lunch off your lap. The slightly too long side-hug he holds you in, the warmth of his arm around you permeating through the layers you wear and has you simultaneously freezing up while also turning your insides to goo. But it isn’t overtly romantic either.

At least, that’s the excuse you give yourself when the comfort of his touch gets too tempting and you end up succumbing to it. The familiarity of it all makes you feel like you’ve finally arrived home. As if you’ve been on this long, arduous journey and you’re finally here. You get to drop the heavy backpack and rest now.

But the voice of rationality in you tells you this wrong wrong wrong. You’ve got to get out of here.

And that’s how you end up here. White-knuckled grip tight on the edges of the sink as you stare yourself dead in the eyes in the bathroom mirror. The music outside thumps away albeit muted through the door to the ladies’. But the way your heart thumps has nothing to do with that.

Even without shifting your gaze, you can tell that your cheeks are slightly reddened and warm. You can feel it tingling. No, you don’t shift your gaze. It stays fixed on the intense stare that your reflection throws back at you like a challenge, the ferocity of it enhanced by the sharp eyeliner you’re wearing tonight, an uncharacteristic look for you.

Heck, this whole night is uncharacteristic.

You could take the easy route and blame it on Yeri. God knows she can be real persuasive - it’s why she’s excellent at her job. So getting you all out to the club on a Friday night to celebrate nothing other than the simple joy that - c’mon guys, we’re all young and alive and free and tell me that’s not worth celebrating and I’ll fucking fistfight you right here and now even with my freshly manicured nails - is no feat for her.

Still, no one really expected your simple reply, tone nonchalant and eyes still glued to your work screen, “Yeah, I could use a night out.”

Soo-eun had remained silent but you could feel her stiffen slightly beside you. Yeri had been surprised too but more elated that she didn’t have to get through your usual ten solid minutes of whining and half-baked attempts at slithering your way out of it.

But back to the present. Your bodycon dress - one of the rare pieces that survived not just your college partying days but also the wardrobe purge that occurred when you had to downsize everything to fit into the tiny apartment that’s quintessential to city-living - expands with your chest as you take a deep breath. Gripping the hem where it sits mid-thigh, you yank it down slightly. It’s been a while since you’ve worn this dress. And while the younger, more risque version of you that was your college self had been enthralled by the daringness of the dress, your current self has to dig deep to muster up that same boldness.

Relenting as you realize that this is the limit to how much you can stretch the length of your dress, you let go and your fingertips unintentionally brush your thigh as it falls back to your side. It elicits a shudder, the sensation of your own fingers too close to the electrifying feeling of someone’s thumb skimming across it. It was electrifying enough that your brain finally powered up again, voice of rationality sending you skedaddling away, out of reach of his touch, and pathetically seeking refuge in the washroom.

You roll your shoulders back and shake your head, dispelling the thoughts. Standing upright, you look yourself in the eye again. You can do this. You’re going to go out there, and you’re going to have a good time with your friends. You’re going to have a good time with Namjoon. With a nod of affirmation, you turn and saunter your way back to the club with a confidence that has your chin firmly tipped upwards.

You push the door open and look for your friends. The sight that greets you immediately punctures your confidence and your steady posture falls limp.

It’s hard to miss her silvery dress - the dress you knew she would wear and the dress that your very own was meant to counter. It catches the light and grabs attention. And at this moment, it grabs your attention so you can witness Yeri standing between Namjoon’s manspread thighs as he’s perched on the barstool, her hands all over him.

Whatever puffed up confidence you’d had is knocked out of you with that sucker punch of a sight. You turn away, needing to look anywhere but at them.

And that’s when your line of sight falls on a curly-haired man, oddly familiar, and apparently someone you know since he’s waving to you.

“____, hey!” he yells over the music.

“Dong-In?”

He nods and smiles at you. “It’s been a while.”

“Wait.” You gasp. “I was supposed to get back to you on brunch, wasn’t I?” Damn. You’ve been so wrapped up with Namjoon that you totally forgot about Dong-In. “I’m so sorry, I’ve been really caught up with things.”

“It’s no biggie.” He shrugs boyishly. “The exhibition, right?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sure, the exhibition. Let’s go with that.

“And nothing to do with…” he directs his gaze - and yours along with it - to none other than Namjoon who’s now drinking with Yeri.

Your gaze snaps back to Dong-In and his cheshire grin.

“Nah,” you feign a laugh. “He’s just a friend.”

“The hand he had on you sure didn’t look like just friends.”

“I said we’re just friends,” you snap, then gasp, taken aback by your own outburst. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Nah, I should be the one apologizing. I hit a nerve there, didn’t I. D’you wanna talk about it?” His voice is warm and mellow and oh so inviting. And you very nearly give in.

But you can’t pull him into your problems. It’s not his burden to bear.

“Not really. But thanks, Dong-In.”

“That’s cool.” He nods, and relief fills you. This is what you’ve always liked about Dong-In. He’s chill. “Well since we’re here, wanna get buzzed?”

You laugh. “I won’t say no to that.”

The bar isn’t too far from where you are, and it doesn’t take long before the burn of alcohol is sliding down your throat. Picking up the conversation again, you have to admit, you’d forgotten how easy it is to talk to Dong-In. He’s got that effortless charisma and an easy sense of humor that you can vibe with. Things are simple with him. There’s no line to be tiptoed. Flirting - now that you’re no longer obtuse and you’re finally aware that he is indeed flirting with you - isn’t accompanied by guilt or fear.

And after weeks of this complicated situation with Namjoon, simplicity is what you crave.

“Hey, do you wanna dance?” you ask suddenly. Surprise colors his features for a moment but he laughs it off.

“Is the conversation boring you? You could have just told me to shut up if you wanted me to,” he jokes.

“No!” You laugh. “There’s just a good beat going and-”

“I’m just kidding. I’d love to.” He smiles and grabs your hand.

The two of you weave your way through the mass of gyrating bodies. Lightly buzzed, the fog and the strobe lights blurring everything around you other than your dance partner, you finally find the courage you’ve been searching for this whole time. Dong-In hasn’t been very subtle about checking you out all night, and it gives you that extra boost of confidence that’s finally quelled the antsy thoughts and calmed the fidgety adjustments to your dress’s hemline.

So when his hands find your waist, you step in a little closer and run your hands through your hair, shaking it out and finally letting loose as your hips rock to the pounding beat. Dancing with Dong-In is much like conversing with him- easy and simple fun with just the slightest tinge of excitement. As your hips sway together in languid synchrony, you catch a whiff of the slightly intoxicating combination of his cologne and the undertones of his own natural scent. You give in to the giddying sensation of his hands running lightly over your body and press in closer, eyes fluttering shut, and just feeling. It’s thrilling. It’s risque. It’s-

A solid grip on your wrist yanks you forward and stumbling into a hard chest.

His voice is gruff as he bites out his words, “Get your hands off her.”

“Namjoon?” you gape.

“We’re leaving.” His eyes fix on yours, steely and piercing. A shiver runs down your spine - in all your years of knowing him, you’ve never seen him like this. He tugs on your wrist once more. “Now.”

Dazed by this brand new persona, you don’t even get to say goodbye to Dong-In, just pulled along by the force that is a quietly fuming Namjoon. Everything happens so quickly that it’s all a blur until you’re in the Uber with him, silently clutching onto your purse as an anchor in this sudden whirlwind of events. The anger emanates off of him even in the dimly lit backseat.

“What the fuck?” you whisper, but the shock diminishes the level of conviction in your voice.

He turns to you, the same hardness still in his gaze. “I should be the one asking that.”

“What?!” you snap. In your peripheral vision, you see the Uber driver jump slightly. Lowering your tone, you hiss, “What gives you the right?”

“What gives me the right?” he echoes incredulously, scoffing and turning away from you to face forward instead as he rolls his eyes. “This is ridiculous.”

The car slows to a stop and you recognize your apartment building. You scramble to get away from him. But it seems your confrontation is far from over. Namjoon unbuckles his own seatbelt to follow you.

Terse silence sits between you, the aggravated stomping of your feet as you climb the stairs the only thing that fills the sound.

You turn sharply round the corner, stalking off to your apartment door. “You don’t have to escort me y’know, I’m perfectly capable of getting home by myself.”

“Really?” He folds his arms and leans on the wall next to your door. “It’s hard to trust you when you go off getting drunk and throwing yourself at a random stranger in the club.”

“Is that what the problem is?” You finally ram the key in, and the click as it unlocks is as harsh as your tone. “Sorry to break it to you, but I have a life apart from you. He’s no stranger. His name is Dong-In, he’s Yeri’s friend, and he’s a great guy.”

You shove the door open. Your heels get kicked off and left haphazardly at the entryway, shoe cabinet ignored.

“Wow, some great guy he is,” Namjoon slams the door shut and his shoes get discarded off his feet in the same fashion, “drunkenly feeling you up in a club.”

“Fuck!” You turn, wringing your hands in your hair. Your glares rival each other. “You say it as if I was strung along by him. Well I wasn’t. I initiated it.”

His glare flickers for a moment. He stays silent.

“Just admit that you’re jealous,” you whisper. You unsling your purse and dump it on top of the shoe cabinet, never breaking eye contact.

“Fine.” Namjoon’s gaze doesn’t waver. “I am.”

He skulks forward and traps you between him and the cabinet, gaze holding yours. Namjoon’s always towered over you, but at the moment it isn’t his height that makes you feel tiny.

“Watching his hands all over you like this,” Namjoon’s hands slowly skim the back of your thighs and up your sides and you bite back a whimper, “makes me jealous.”

“And watching you respond like this?” He continues as a firm hand presses the small of your back to close the gap between your torsos. “Glued to him like this? It makes me jealous.”

“You don’t own me,” you whisper but it only elicits a sardonic laugh from him.

“You say that, but you know damn well that’s not the truth. Tell me. Are you jealous?”

“What would I-”

“Yeri.” Damn. Straight through the bullshit. With an eyebrow cocked, it’s obvious he knows the answer and he’s not budging, not even an inch.

“Yes,” you admit quietly. “I’m jealous.”

“Silly girl.” He traces the hemline of your dress. “I only want you.”

A soft keening noise spills out of you. “I’m so sick of holding back.” You tug on his dress shirt, and the feel of his plush lips finally, finally meeting yours snips the final frayed cords of self-restraint you possessed.

Namjoon is quick to reciprocate, and you moan as his tongue licks at your bottom lip. Hooking your arms around his neck, you pull him closer, needing nothing else but to have him close after all this time of distance. He hoists you up, and your legs circle his waist to aid him. The world around you sets into motion as he walks you to your bed, and you anchor yourself by pressing kisses to his neck.

With how tiny your apartment is, it takes no time for him to carry you from the entryway to your bedroom. The cool sensation of your unmade sheets envelops you as he lowers you down onto the bed. He barely gets a moment to appreciate the sight of you, hair mussed and lipstick smudged, lounging on the bed and waiting for him. Desperate for his touch and running out of patience, you gesture to the zip on the side of your dress. Hurrying, he pulls the zipper down as you tug your arms out of the thin straps of the garment. You sit up and let the torso of the dress fall to bunch up at your waist, revealing your bare chest to him.

The quiet gasp that escapes him as he beholds you is infinitely flattering. It’s but a momentary pause. He dives forward into action again. An arm looped around your back to support you as your chest arches upwards, he crouches over you to take one perked-up tit into the heat of his mouth, his free hand coming up to toy with the other. His tongue laves over your nipple in a slippery flick. The other gets pinched and rolled, leaving you gasping at the delicious sensations.

“Namjoon,” you moan out breathily, and it only eggs him on. You whimper as he begins sucking on the bud and wetness pools between your thighs. Your fingernails rake down his back, muted through the layer of his dress shirt.

“M-more,” you plead. He releases your breast and moves his mouth upwards, trailing gentle pecks till he kisses along the length of your collarbone.

“Come here,” he commands, his words breathy and hot as they puff against the thin skin of your clavicle. He scoots back to lean against the headboard, and you follow hastily.

You clamber on top of him, knees bent and straddling his lap as he helps you hike the skirt of your dress up. But before you seat yourself atop the prominent bulge in the lightwash denim of his jeans, he holds you still with a firm grasp on your hip.

His thumb trails the lace detail of your panties, the patterns snaking across your hip bone, baby pink like your dress.

“Gorgeous,” he mumbles. His fingers wander to your clothed core, the material slightly sheer from the damp spot of your arousal. He strokes it tenderly with the pad of his finger, so light that it has you quivering as you hover above him.

His fingernail grazes your slit through the wet material and a gasp catches in your throat. You clench around nothing as carnal desire throbs through your core.

“Namjoon, please,” you whine.

Finally, he gives in to you and pulls you down. Your laced core meets his rough denim-clad one. The stiff material of his jeans pokes through the delicate fabric of your underwear, the friction rough as he drags you over his clothed bulge. The burn is delicious. His hands on you set a slow but steady rhythm that you follow easily, canting your hips in time. It’s enrapturing to watch the way you grind on one another, your clit rubbing up on the apex of his bulge in mutual pleasure.

A finger tips your chin up from the sight you were fixated on.

“Eyes on me.”

It’s difficult. Pleasure has your eyes drooping shut. But the intensity of his gaze compellingly holds yours and you manage, even if barely. His expression is stoic, and it’s only the twitch of his dick that betrays how affected he is. You, on the other hand, are completely abandoned to pleasure. Hands scrabbling across his upper back and up until they settle themselves as fists gripping tufts of his hair, teeth clamped on your bottom lip as moans spill out of you at increasing frequency as your pleasure climbs and climbs and climbs until-

Burrowing your face into the side of his neck, you pant as you cross the peak. Hips now stilled, your climax has you throbbing against his hardened member. You cling onto him with your arms around his neck as you free-fall in the subsiding pleasure. Bare chest brushing against the smooth material of his dress shirt, you catch your breath and yield to the moment.

“Shit,” he mutters. “Shit.” Louder this time. “Shit, shit, shit.”

The regret in his words yank you out of the heady fog of lust. There’s no time to bask in the afterglow. Reality comes crashing down hard and mercilessly.

Suddenly, you feel so small and so exposed. You read his regret as rejection. Your nudity and previous salacious actions make you feel stupid.

Namjoon attempts to extricate your arms from around him, but shame has you clutching to him tighter, hiding your face in his neck. You can still feel him under you, but it’s now an uncomfortable reminder of the act you just committed.

“Hey,” his voice is gentle now, pleading, “look at me? Please?”

You refuse. It’s impossible to look him in the eye right now.

“Fuck.” Even whispered, the panic laced in his tone is blatant. Gently, he maneuvers both of you to turn over. Feeling the mattress underneath you as you’re laid on your back, you release your hold on him and swiftly turn and tug your blanket up to hide away from him.

“____.” He tries. You grip the sheets even tighter as you feel him trying to pull it away from your face. “Please.”

Embarrassment. Guilt. Mortification. They overtake you and you curl in on yourself. You just want to disappear.

“____,” he tries again, hand stroking your head. But you don’t allow yourself to succumb to its comfort. “Talk to me. Please.”

Oh, now he wants to talk.

Why couldn’t you have just talked things out earlier? Why only now when things have fallen apart? Why now when you’ve just done something so stupid and so reckless?

Why now when it’s too late? What can talking possibly do to fix this now?

His pleas are met with silence.

“I’m gonna get you some water,” he says resignedly.

More silence. He sighs. You feel the mattress shift as he gets up. From where you’re still hiding in the stuffy darkness underneath your blanket, you hear his footsteps return and the muted thud of the glass getting placed on your bedside table.

The silence returns, but you can feel his presence. You imagine he’s staring at your blanket lump on the bed.

Finally, the heavy quietness is broken with a deep breath, and you hear him say softly, “Get a good night’s rest, okay? Let’s talk about this tomorrow.”

The light clicks off and you’re plunged into lonely pitch-black darkness. In the distance, you hear the heavy opening and closing of your front door as Namjoon leaves.

Unearthing yourself to the coolness of the night, your dress an uncomfortable lump around your waist, your breasts slightly sore from his previous ministrations, you stare up at the ceiling as hot tears leak out.

It’s well into the afternoon by the time you drag yourself out of bed the next day. Sleep came intermittently and was far from restful, but waking up meant facing the nightmarish reality of what had transpired. So you hid under the covers for as long as you could. But you know you can’t stay there forever.

The buzzing notifications of your phone had woken you up on more than one occasion in the night. But you ignore it and leave your phone next to the glass of water - still untouched - in favor of washing up. It’s more pressing anyway, you surmise. You can feel your make-up, now icky and caked on your face. It’s awful. Your skin is probably revolting against you now and you don’t even want to think about the mess it probably left on your pillowcase. But last night, you were simply paralyzed by the weight of what you’d done, crying till sleep finally came for you.

You take your time going through an extensive skincare routine, even busting out the clay mask you had impulsively bought together with Yeri when it was on discount. You’re doing it because your skin needs the pampering and definitely not because you’re procrastinating getting to your phone.

But there’s only so many steps you can do with the limited skincare products in your apartment. And you know your friends are probably worried about your abrupt disappearance last night. Getting to those messages first, you quickly assure Soo-eun and Yeri that you’re safe at home. Looking at the remaining notifications, you sigh.

Missed calls Namjoon (8)

7 unread messages from 2 chats Namjoon: are you still sleeping? Namjoon: hey, you still asleep? Namjoon: text me when you’re up please? Namjoon: are you awake?

Dong-In: hey! Dong-In: not sure what exactly happened at the end there haha, but it was rly great seeing u again. Dong-In: i’m still waiting on that brunch reschedule, by the way.

Memories from last night come back to you. Dong-In runs his hands through his curls, an easy grin on his face as he leans in to listen to you over the loud music of the club. Things are simple with Dong-In. And, standing on the precipice of a mental spiral whenever you think of Namjoon, the same craving for simplicity from last night returns.

[2:06pm] ____: well it’s a little late for brunch right now

[2:06pm] ____: but you still up to grab a bite?

[yikesharringrove]

how about billy and steve aren’t able to quarantine together they are at their respective homes. but no neil please he’s dead none of him billy live with his mom and the boys are struggling but they’re trying

so, basically, Billy’s mom took her with him when she left Neil.

-

pwetty boi 🥺👉👈: should we just break up?

The text made Billy’s heart stop.

He knew Steve was being weird on the phone when they talked. Whenever Steve was quiet, it meant bad.

I mean, do you WANT to?

pwetty boi 🥺👉👈: like, no, but would it be easier? do YOU want to?

Of COURSE I don’t want to.

Billy sighed, tossing his phone onto the counter, scrubbing his hands down his face.

“What’s going on, Starfish?” He looked up at his mom with one eye.

“Steve’s being insecure.” She raised an eyebrow. “I just talked to him and now he’s texting me and asking if I want to break up.” They had met in college, both joined the LGBT+ club at Chapman University, ended up working at one of the coffee shops on campus together. They had been together for just about a year, spent almost all their time together.

And then global pandemic forced Steve outta the dorms and back to Indiana while Billy packed up and headed down to his mom’s place in San Diego.

“Why do you think he’s thinking that?”

“Steve’s clingy. He likes being around people, and being touched, like just straight cuddled, and his parents are real shitty, and pretty much ignore the fact that he exists, and me not being around to like, help him out is probably really fucking with him.”

She twisted one of his curls around her finger.

“Would his parents let him come here? He could stay with us.”

“I asked him when all this shit first went down, but they’re like, really freaking out about everything and want him home. It’s the first time they’ve been home for longer six days since Steve was fourteen.” Her jaw dropped.

“Oh my God. Poor Stevie. How could a parent just, just treat their child like that?” Billy licked her hand, made her laugh loudly. He checked his phone, finding a bunch of new texts from Steve.

pwetty boi 🥺👉👈: i’m sorry. i just feel like a chore.

pwetty boi 🥺👉👈: like, i think itd be easier for you

pwetty boi 🥺👉👈: if you dont have to deal with me

pwetty boi 🥺👉👈: im sorry im bothering you

Billy sighed.

“I should probably call him. He’s spiraling pretty hard. Twenty bucks says he hasn’t taken his meds in like, a week.” His mom tried to stifle a laugh, flicking a dish towel at him. He grinned at her while he pressed the call button.

“Hi, Bill.”

“Stevie, take your fuckin’ meds.” Steve huffed into the phone. “You can’t hide from me, Pretty Boy. I know how you get.”

“But I mean, think about it. You wouldn’t have to, to call and check in on me, you could just like, live your life. Date. If you wanted to.”

“We’re in a global pandemic. I’m not gonna go out and date, even if I fuckin’ wanted to break up with you.” He put his face down on the counter. “Now I’m gonna stay right here until you take your fucking meds.”

He could hear Steve stomping around on the line, slamming things around.

“Okay, I fucking took them.”

“Good. Now listen. I love you. I don’t want to break up with you. Even being halfway across the country from you, I’m so fucking happy. And it kills me that I can’t be with you right now, that I can’t hold you and help you, but I’m still here for you.”

“I’m sorry, Bill.” Steve sniffed. “I just, I hate it here. My parents are, are just all up in my shit, and my mom hasn’t let me leave the fucking neighborhood, and I, I’m so stressed out about school, and that I’m bringing you down and I feel like a fucking burden to everyone in my life and I, I” Steve broke down into sobs.

Billy’s heart fucking shattered.

All he wanted was to climb into a shitty dorm bed with Steve, hold him nice and close until he stopped feeling like shit about himself, until he understood that Billy fucking loves him.

“I’m sorry, Honey. I’m sorry I can’t help you. I wish I could do more. I love you. You are not a burden to me. I just, I wanna fucking climb through this phone and drag you home with me.”

“Maybe, maybe I could talk to my mom about, about visiting.” Billy held the phone out to his mom, putting Steve on speaker.

“Mom, tell Steve he can move in with us until it’s safe again.” She laughed lightly, taking the phone.

“Hi, Pumpkin. You are more than welcome here with us. Billy’s has been gardening up a storm. We’ve been giving away tomatoes to all the neighbors.” Steve laughed, it still sounded kinda wet.

“That sounds like heaven, ma’am.” She smiled warmly at Billy.

“Have Starfish send you my phone number, I can speak with your parents if you like. We’ve been very safe here. I’ve been sewing masks and giving them to all our friends as well.”

“I mean, I’ve been so miserable here, maybe, they might let me. I think my dad wouldn’t mind not having to deal with me anymore.” His mom pursed her lips at that. “I asked him for help with one of my classes, because apparently I forgot that he sucks, and he just told me I was an idiot for like, twenty minutes.”

She threw her rag down, her mouth all scrunched up.

“Baby, get the fuck out of that house. Come out here and hang out with me and my mom. We’ll help you with your work and won’t call you shitty names the whole time.”

“I don’t know, I am really fucking stup-”

“If you finish that fucking sentence, I swear to God, Steve.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Have your mom call my mom to set up our play date. We can have you quarantine in the guest room for a while after traveling.”

“Okay. Thank you, Bill.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

-

Billy was driving slowly through the pick up line.

They had a whole plan of attack. Steve had put on a pair of latex gloves, and would put his bags in the trunk and then sit in the back seat.

Billy was gonna take him home, and he was gonna shower while Billy tossed his traveled in clothes in the laundry.

He saw Steve standing there, his big duffel bag slumped next to his large suitcase.

He was in a mask, but waved giddily at Billy in his mom’s car.

They executed the plan flawlessly, and before they knew it, they were making out in the guest room of Billy’s little house.

His mom knocked on the door.

Steve rolled off of him sheepishly.

“You can come in.”

“Are you sure?” Billy rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I’m sure, Mom.” She winked at him when she came in.

She hugged Steve tight, and Billy’s heart fucking soared as Steve melted into the hug.

“I’m so glad you could come out here. It’s wonderful to meet you.”

She smelled like fresh bread and lilies. Steve loved it.

“It’s nice to meet you as well, Mrs. Hargrove.”

“Oh please, call me Beth.” She pulled away from the hug. “Sweet Thing, come help me set the table. Let Steve get his bearings.” Steve was grinning.

“Billy calls me Sweet Thing.”

“Well, he comes from a long line of nicknamers, so you better get used to it, Sugar.” Billy kissed him on the cheek as he followed his mom out.

Steve still has no idea what Beth said to his mother to convince her to send Steve out to San Diego for the foreseeable future.

But somehow, she had made it work, and he wasn’t gonna be alone, or with cold parents that called him names, wasn’t gonna have to cry himself to sleep, not when he could sneak into Billy’s cozy little room.

He could garden with Billy, and Billy said he’d teach him how to skateboard, take him on bike rides around town.

They would cook, and Billy would help him finish the semester online, and the weather was warm and-

And Billy loved him.

Loved him so much he convinced his parents to let him fly across the country to live with him.

Steve had never been loved like this before.

And he was gonna fucking cherish it.

[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.

[kimmietea]

Double Yikes! Part 1 (Ben Hardy x Reader)

Summary: Ben and Reader go on their date.

Warnings: Dirty thoughts, cursing...sickly sweet touching moments

Continuation of Yikes!

A/N: Wow ok hi everyone! Is this actually happening? Im actually posting this! So i decided to break up Double Yikes into 2 parts. First of all because it has been way too long and i feel awful for making you all wait and 2 because I’m struggling with the end and I'm hoping this will buy me some more time. I don’t bite so please tell me what you all think. Do you hate it? Love it? Want more? Tell me all of it. I love to hear from you. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list for when part 2 is finished. Ok I think that’s it...oh don’t forget Italics is reader thinking to herself in her head. Alright let’s do this!!

TagList:: @borhapqueen92  @radiob-l-a-hblah  @gwendolyns-stacy @coincidence-ithinknots-blog @mythicmazzellos  @hardforbenhardy @onceuponadetectivedemigod

*********************************************

“Wait wait, read it to me again.” Morgan said stuffing the last bit of her lunch into her mouth. You were both sitting in your office for lunch, talking about Ben and your upcoming date that night, when he texted you as promised a few hours before.

“It says 'Do you mind if I pick you up for our date? I really want to be a perfect gentleman.' Then there are the fingers crossed emoji and in brackets '🤞(please say yes).' You read and flipped the phone around to show her.

"Want to be? Hell he already is."

"I'm so nervous. He still didn't say where or what time. What if I don't get out of work in time to shower? Oh god I'm gonna smell on our first date. What am I gonna wear? If I don't have enough time to shower then I might not have enough time to change. Oh god what if i wear what i'm wearing now. He's gonna look and smell so good. All showered and sexy in whatever he's got on and I'm gonna be this gross, smelly potato still in her clothes from work. Im freaking out!" You were spiraling.

"Alright calm down. One thing at a time. Let's come up with a reply. Do you want him to pick you up?"

"Of course I do." You smiled. "Better chance of a goodnight kiss."

"Or a good morning kiss" She muttered.

"Morgan!" She held her hands up in defense.

“I’m just saying what you’re thinking.”

She’s not wrong

“Oh shut up and help me.”

 Together you came up with a reply and he responded with the time he would be by to pick you up and the dress code, to which he described as 'Fancier than work but not the royal wedding.', because he refused to tell you where you were going, causing you to stress about it for the rest of the day. At least you would have enough time to shower and change.

By the time you left work, you were nothing but a big nervous mess. When you got home you had 2 hours to get ready before Ben would be there. You went straight to the shower making sure every bit of you was clean and any place that needed shaving was taken care of just in case things ended the way Morgan said they would.

You were definitely not the type of girl to sleep with a guy on the first date but there was something about Ben. A pull you just couldn't explain. A need to be close to him but at the same time a need to be far away because you were so nervous you may vomit all over him. Plus this very well could be the last time you see him, him being an actor and his career on the verge of skyrocketing and all. So why not make the most of it if the opportunity arises.

After your shower you spent way too long in the closet trying to pick something to wear. You finally decided on what Morgan called your "Posh Spice Dress". It was a simple black dress that stopped mid thigh, with thin straps.

Hair and makeup came next and you kept things simple. Minimal makeup and a simple, messy sort of bun with a few pieces falling around your face. You received a text from Ben notifying you that he was on his way.  Shoes on, wallet and keys in purse. You snapped a quick picture in the full length mirror and sent it off to Morgan as promised.

The knock at the door made you jump and almost drop your phone.

Jesus that was fast.

You could feel your hands start to sweat and your heart pound as you walked to the door.

Breath you manic, it's just a date. Breath.

You opened the door and the breath you just talked yourself into taking was stolen from you. Ben was dressed in a wonderful black suit and dark green shirt, making his eyes stand out. His hair was tousled just enough so a piece hung over his forehead. He was looking at the floor but when the door opened he looked up. He shook his head to get the stray piece or hair off his forehead but it did nothing but make you weak in the knees.

Fuuuuck! You beautiful bastard. My god, I'm gonna be distracted all night.

The effect he had on you must have shown on your face because his cheeks were a light pink.

"Hey." He smiled.

"Hi." You managed to get out. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek. You were grateful you were still holding the door otherwise you'd be on the ground.

"Wow you look... absolutely stunning." You looked to the ground to try and hide the furious blush that was now burning your face.

“Oh um these are for you.”  He handed you the small batch of daffodils you hadn't noticed he was holding.

“My favorite. How did you know?” Trusting your knees wouldn't fail you, you moved inside and gestured for him to follow. In the kitchen you found a vase and filled it with water before turning to face him.

“I may have called the office and asked Morgan.” His bottom lip pulled between his teeth. You clenched your legs together and did everything you could not to moan out loud.

How inappropriate would it be if I jumped him right now?

“Sorry. That’s kinda creepy now that I say it out loud.” He laughed.

“No it’s not creepy. It’s thoughtful. They’re beautiful, thank you Ben.” You reassured and touched his arm gratefully. He nodded and when you turned to place the vase on the counter he let his fingers brush where you had touched his arm.

“Ready?” He asked, clearing his throat.

“Yep.” You grabbed your things and headed out the door to Bens car that was waiting in the parking lot of your apartment building. Keeping up his promise of being the perfect gentleman, he walked you to the passenger side and opened the door for you. His hand on your lower back the entire way. Once you were both settled in the car he passed you his phone, spotify was pulled up.

“Alright D.J. do your thing.” He said, pulling out of the lot and onto the street. You laughed and took the phone from him.

Ok do NOT fuck this up!

“Ah the real test.” You scrolled for a little.

“You probably think I'm going to play something Queen.” You saw the smirk on his face but he stayed silent.

Don’t be a cliche bitch.

“While i do love Queen, I'm sure that's all anyone ever plays for you now and I refuse to be that person.” You hummed and scrolled through his playlists. Surprisingly you had a lot of the same taste in music.

Should I pick something funny? Maybe a love song? No, to mushy.

“Oh I got it.” You said before clicking the one you had chosen. ’Thank you’ from Led Zeppelin. Just the right amount of lovey without being obvious. You watched his face as the music started. The smirk faded and a soft smile appeared.

“Why yes boys, she’s not just a pretty face, she’s got great music taste too.” You joked. His face didn’t change. He turned to glance at you before returning his eyes back to the road, smile still in place.

Oh shit. No real reaction.

“So, how’d I do?” You asked. You felt almost nauseous with the butterflies in your stomach. He looked to you again, a look you couldn't place.

"Perfect." He answered in almost a whisper. There was something more to that answer, you could feel it. There was tension in the car. Not a bad one, not a sexual one. Just an energy, an electric charge. This wasn't going to be just a regular date.

I wonder if he can feel that too.

Before either one of you could break the tension your phone chimed with a text message. You took your phone from your purse to see a message from Morgan.

‘YAS you sexy bitch! Get that dickin’ down girl!’ You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up and out of you.

“What’s so funny?” Ben asked.

Oh shit

You put your phone on silent and put it back in your purse after texting her back a thumbs up and a winking emoji. The mood in the car shifted, it was light, fun and you could breathe normal again.

“Just Morgan being Morgan.”

“Is that the ‘Let me know if you need me to get you out of this awful date and I'll make something up.’ text?” You laughed and shook your head.

Nope, just my best friend wishing me good luck on tryin to sex you up tonight.

“No, actually believe it or not, we didn’t even have that conversation.” You told him truthfully. The thought of coming up with an escape plan in case things went south didn’t even cross your mind. His smile grew.

“Feelin’ pretty good about this date then?” He chuckled, doing his best to joke but you could hear the nerves in his voice. You turned your full attention to him and put your elbow on the middle console, your chin resting in your hand, a warm smile on your lips. He pulled up to a stop light as you answered.

“Very good.” He turned to look at you, his smile still soft, that look in his eyes you couldn’t place was still shining at you. You watched as his eyes moved all across your face, as if he was doing his best to capture every inch of it, commit it to memory so he would never forget.

Oh my god please kiss me.

The mood shifted again and you found it hard to catch your breath.

There is no way he isn’t feeling this. It’s too strong.

He brought his hand up and let the back of his knuckles gently run along the side of your face.

How have I not noticed how full his lips are. I bet they feel amazing.

“Me too.” He whispered.

Oh god I'm in trouble.

The light turned green, the mood shifted again and Ben continued to the restaurant. As if that intense moment hadn’t just happened. All the mood changes were making you dizzy.

The rest of the ride was nice, you chatted about little things, his upcoming projects, how the rest of your work day was. When you pulled into a spot at the restaurant, Ben jumped out and ran around to your side of the car opening the door for you and offering his arm. You grinned at him and looped your arm in his.

Once inside and at your table, a perfect cozy spot in the corner, Ben pulled your chair out for you. You recognized the name of the restaurant, ‘Ember’ . It was the new hot spot. It was only open a few months and already the reservation list was booked up till a year and a half from now.

How did he get us in here? He doesn't seem like one of those actors to use his name or the fact that he’s an actor, to get what he wants.

You stopped looking at your menu to look at him, his eyes were roaming the page.

“I have to say, I’m a little impressed you were able to get us here on such short notice.” He laughed and glanced up at you.

“Don’t be. The head chef, Ryan, is a close mate from back home. I had to beg him for about an hour after I left your office to get us a table.”

Ugh. The cutest.

“That and while i'm in town I owe him 3 nights of babysitting his 4 year old daughter, Olivia, so him and his wife can go out. So yeah not too impressive.”

Jk, that was the cutest. And now I'm picturing Ben with a 4 year old. I am fuckin done for.

“I wouldn’t say that. I find the fact that you called my office to find out my favorite flower, begged your friend for a table at his restaurant and gave up 3 of your nights to babysit all to have dinner with some girl you just met 10 hours ago kinda impressive.” He smiled and set his menu aside.

"Well she's definitely not just some girl." You also put your menu aside, your head tilted sweetly to the side.

"Oh no?"

"No, she's special." Your heart skipped a beat. That same electric feeling from the car was back.

Fuck.

"Well she thinks you're pretty special too." His face went red and he looked down at the table to try and hide it. The waitress approached the table. She was young, early 20s for sure, pretty and clearly recognized Ben. The electric feeling was gone again.

"Hi, I'm Kate. I'll be your server tonight. Can I start you off with a drink?" She said a little too sweetly. She angled herself towards Ben, her back slightly to you. You could already feel yourself getting agitated.

Please do not fuck up my night with this man you little hoe.

Ben ordered a bottle of wine for the two of you after looking to you for the okay which you gave with a smile and nod. Kate leaned into him just so as he ordered an appetizer for you to share. You were not normally a fan of guys who ordered for their dates but something about the way Ben did was incredibly sexy.

"Is that alright my darling?" He asked. His eyes were wide and innocent, a slight blush on his cheeks.

He's so considerate. And completely oblivious.

You could see the annoyed look on Kate's face as he addressed you. You smirked.

"Of course, whatever you want. I trust you." You said and placed your hand on top of his that was resting on the table. His smile grew so wide it took up his entire face.

He's gonna kill me with that smile.

He flipped his hand over in yours so he could hold it properly. He glanced down at them then back up to you, a questioning look on his face. You smiled and squeezed his hand in reassurance. His wide smile was back again.

"I'll go put this in." Kate said, trying to pull his focus.

"Thank you." He replied and held the menus out of her to take. His eyes never leave you. You felt a surge of confidence pull through your whole body. She huffed, took the menus from him.

"Don't we need those to order?" You asked.

"Oh, Ryan said he wanted to make us something special. For us to just order an appetizer and wine and he would take care of the rest."  

Wow VIP treatment. I'm seriously impressed.

Kate rolled her eyes and turned to leave.

"Oh Kate, could we also get some water please?" You smiled at her. You couldn't help that it was a little smug. Before she could answer Ben brought your joint hands up to his lips, placing a kiss to your knuckles before returning them to the table.

Perfect timing you charming bastard.

"Of course." She answered with a fake, forced smile and left. Your eyes returned to Ben. His smile was shining, addictive and contagious. You could feel yours growing to match. The conversation flowed easily. You talked about everything. Gone were any awkward moments. It was like you had known each other for years vs. only a few hours. You both were still shy and nervous at times but were growing more confident and comfortable as dinner went one. After you both had the amazing meal Ryan prepared for you, he came over to the table.

"Well well if it isn't little Jonesy." He laughed and threw his arm around Ben's shoulders, pulled him close and tousled his hair.

"Mate come on. I'm on a bloody date. Stop it." He struggled to get out of his friend's hold. Ryan laughed and placed a big smacking kiss on Ben’s cheek.

“Muah! Missed you mate.”

“Yeah yeah I missed you too. Now get off of me.” He shook him off but he was grinning the entire time. Ryan shoved at his shoulder with a matching grin before turning his attention to you.

"You must be Y/N, It's a pleasure to meet you." He said, offering his hand to shake.

"And you. Thank you so much for that meal. It was amazing. You are very talented" You gushed and met his hand with yours.

"Great taste and extremely beautiful." Ryan said letting your hand go and leaning into Ben's side.

"That she is." Ben answered, his eyes trained on you. Your heart fluttered.

"She's far too good for you Jonesy." Ryan joked.

"Don't I know it." You were sure your face was red and flushed.

Well that couldn't be more untrue. I'm so worried you're going to realise I'm just an average girl and then you'll be gone.

"Alright shove over, let's catch up for a bit." Ryan said grabbing a chair from a nearby table and pulling it up to yours. Ben slid his chair over to make room.

Oh shit, here we go nerves.

He was now sitting next to you rather than across. His arm instinctively draped over the back of your chair.

Okay, okay deep breath. Fuck he smells so good. No more deep breaths.

The boys chatted away, mostly about what they've been up to and Ryan's family. Ryan asked what you did, you told him and explained that was how you and Ben met.

"You know I would love to do a piece on you." You said taking a sip of wine. Having Ryan there had calmed your nerves, took some of the pressure off. You were relaxed and you could tell Ben was too. He leaned back in his chair, arm still draped over the back of yours. You were lent forwards, elbows on the table engaged in the conversation.

"Me?" Ryan laughed surprised.

"Yeah, I think the people would love to learn about the head chef at the new hot spot. I mean only if you're interested that is. You don't have to. Just a thought."

“That sounds good. Jonesy can give you my number, give me a call and we’ll set it up.” You smiled, feeling proud.This was gonna get you some serious points with your boss.

“Alright, I'm going to stop hogging your date and get back to work. Y/N it really was a pleasure meeting you. I look forward to seeing you again.” He said leaning over to place a kiss on your cheek.

“Jonesy I’ll see you soon for babysitting.” He laughed, hugged his friend and whispered to him.

“She seems perfect for you mate, don’t fuck it up.” Ben laughed and kissed his cheek the same way Ryan had upon arriving at the table.

“I’m sending you guys some desert so get comfortable.” He said before leaving. You turned to look at Ben over your shoulder, he was grinning at you.

"What?" You asked, now matching his grin. He brought the hand that was draped over the back of your chair, up to your exposed back and let the tips of his fingers run across the skin. Despite feeling hot all over, you shivered and goosebumps appeared.

"I've never seen him take to someone so fast. Especially someone I'm interested in."

Ok butterflies, calm down.

“I guess that means I'm pretty awesome.” You joked and leaned back in your chair, turned towards him, your knees now touching. His hand moved to the side of your face. He brushed a piece of hair behind your ear and let his finger gently continue over the shell of your ear, down your jaw and across your chin. Your heart was hammering in your chest. His touch was so soft and gentle you couldn't help but lean into him slightly.

Fuck. Me. Up.

“I’d say pretty awesome doesn't even begin to cover it.”

I swear if you don't kiss me right fuckin now i will exploed.

As if he was reading your thoughts he leaned in slowly, giving you the chance to pull away. He was so close now, you could feel his soft, warm breath across your face.

"Here's your desert." Kate, the waitress interrupted and placed a plate of chocolate covered strawberries on the table between you.

God damn it!

She had a satisfied smirk on her face.

Bitch

Ben pulled back, cleared his throat and offered a weak smile to Kate. It took everything in you not to huff and pout like a child not getting the toy they wanted.

"Chef asked me to give you this." Kate said and passed what looked like the check to Ben before leaving again. You watched as his eyes traveled over it and a grin spread across his face.

"Cheeky shit." He laughed and handed it to you. It was a note from Ryan.

Dinner is on me. Not because of you Jonesy, cause your beautiful date. She charmed the pants off me. The wife's gettin lucky tonight! Hope you are too.

A warm blush spread across your cheeks.

"Well that was very sweet of him." You said trying not to focus on the "hope you get lucky" comment.

"He likes to embarrass me." Ben laughed and nudged the plate towards you. "Strawberry?"

You both ate your dessert and continued to chat. You couldn't believe how easy it was to talk to him. Sure you still got nervous and giddy when he smiled at you and your heart would speed up, making your hands sweat but for the most part your nerves had calmed down enough for you to hold a conversation without stumbling over your words and flushing at the smallest up turn of his lips. When you finished Kate returned to the table to remove the plate and ask if you needed anything else.

“Actually may I borrow your pen?” Ben asked. She nodded and handed it to him. A hopeful look on her face. He took the note from Ryan, turned it over. You watched over his shoulder as he wrote:

Thanks for dinner you sexy man. See you soon for babysitting.

And signed it with a heart.

Kate looked disappointed.

Ha!

“Oh me next” You said, getting an idea. You searched your bag for your lipstick. Red lipstick wasn’t really your style but Morgan had convinced you to buy it once and it’s been in your bag ever since. You put it on, making sure to get it in the corners and lay it on thick. You could see Ben watching you out of the corner of your eye. His mouth was parted slightly and his eyes followed your hand as it traveled across your lips. You smirked at him a little as you rubbed your lips together before pressing your lips to the paper, leaving a perfect kiss mark. You wrote a quick thank you next to it.

“He’s gonna love that.” Ben said, his voice deep and a little rough.

Holy hotness batman

He gave Kate her pen back and asked if she would pass the note back to him. She agreed and left with the plate and note. Ben stood and held his hand out to you.

“Ready love?”

Your heart jumped a little.

Fuck I hope i never get used to hearing that

“Ready” You slyly wiped your sweaty hands on your dress before placing your hand in his. He helped you up and intertwined your fingers, pulling you close to his side as you both walked out of the restaurant. The car ride back to your apartment was filled with laughs. Ben was telling you stories about him and Ryan and all the crazy things they used to do, how they met, how Ryan met his wife and when Ryan asked Ben to be Olivia’s godfather.

When he pulled into the parking lot of your building he insisted on walking you to your door. ‘All part of the perfect gentleman package’ he told you. He took your hand again during the elevator ride up to your floor and swung your connected hands slightly as he walked you to your apartment and released it when you stood in front of the door.

Ok, goodnight kiss, let's do this!

"Thank you Ben, I had a really great time." He took a small step forward and placed one hand on your hip, your heart sped up. His hand felt heavy and the heat coming from him being so close spread through your entire body.

"So did I. Thank you for agreeing to go out with me tonight. I never do this kind of thing but I couldn't leave your office without a definite way to see you again." He laughed a little to ease his nerves, his head leaning slightly closer to you.

Oh god ok, breath

"Well I'm very glad you did." You said, much softer than you intended. Ben had his bottom lip trapped between his teeth as his eyes traveled over your face, landing on your lips. He was close and you could feel his breath across your face again, like at the restaurant. His heavy hand still firm on your hip, his thumb now rubbing along soothingly.

Please kiss me

He brought his other hand up to the side of your face, letting the tips of his fingers run over your cheekbone.

Pleeeease kiss me

You took a chance and placed your hand at the nape of his neck, letting your fingers intertwine in his hair. He smiled and licked his lips.

PAH-LEEAS KISS ME DAMN IT!

"Y/N, can I kiss you?" He whispered.

FUCKIN FINALLY!

Too afraid you'd actually say what you were thinking, you nodded. He smiled and leaned in slowly to close the space between you. You instantly felt an electric shock travel through you causing you to move closer towards him and tug on his hair. He moaned into the kiss and slid his hand from your hip to your back, pulling you flush against him.

You sighed at the feeling of him being pressed against you and your lips parted. Ben wasted no time and slid his tongue along yours. You moaned and let your unoccupied hand glide up his torso, feeling his tight muscles under his shirt to rest on his chest. Ben's hand that was near your face moved to join his other on your back.

Your entire body was on fire, your head spinning, either from the intensity of the kiss or the lack of oxygen, you weren't sure. Just when you were about to pull back to see if he wanted to move things inside, he slid one of his hands down to rest on the curve of your ass.

You whined and pushed back into his hand. He moaned and gripped your ass roughly, causing you to involuntarily snap your hips forward into his. He moaned again and finally pulled away. Ben was panting heavily, his lips were swollen and red, his cheeks flushed and warm. You were sure you looked the same.

Alright, say something cool and invite him inside

You opened your mouth to speak but he beat you to it.

"I can't do this." Your heart dropped and you could feel the color drain from your face.

A/N: Sorry for the cliffhanger but i need to make sure you come back! Don’t hate me!

[smallestclowninthecircus]

Season 4 notes

Ep 121: mmmm tape recorder turning on without them knowing goes brrr. AAAhjhdsjfhjdf "do you mind if i call you jon" its like "can i call you elias?" is this the dream guy with the tendrils? who wants to bet the boat is captained by peter lukas? big man if it killed yall how are you still here. oh boy the tape is doin that thing. who do we think it is? did he wake up? hmm. ep 122: lol jon. 6 months!?!? bruh quit movin big man. he just Knows things sometimes you know how it is. nah b/c i can relate to feeling like other ppl/ things arent real, thats the biggest mood BUT i think it is kinda pretentious to entertain the idea that youre the only Real person. If you dont see a body dont believe it. i'll hold out hope for a bit. theres not a new archivist is there? surely i wouldve heard about that. oh god peter what changes did you make. ep 123: web development. hope its about spiders. she blames him. bruh why. if they hadnt done anything the world would've ended piss off melanie. why are ppl acting like he chose to be in a coma for 6 months. we know this they just appear. no longer "head archivist of the magnus institute, london" now he's just "the archivist" covered in spiders? cuz ik the spider has to do with controlling what youre doing and all this stuff but i cant think of how this connects to that. ep 124: ugh vertigo. is michael crew an old man? oooh. fairchild. how did he know it was martin? hmm. GRR I LOST MY NOTES AGAIN. FROM EPISODE 125 - part of 131. ep 131: bruh he's so hard to understand big man ur voice is so low. Jared Hotworth. the boneturner. "the ones i helped find their proper bodies" name a better top surgeon? our favorite trans ally? ep 132: woo field trip into the coffin! static lol. he says "chill out im just poppin in for a quick recall mission" is the rib thing actually gonna work? bruh it feels so odd and contrived but he's an odd man with some odd powers so idk. rip that archivist ayyy statement time. voices? recordings? are those tape recorders? was it the tape recorders? did they pull him back? i hope so b/c if the rib thing actually worked im gonna be so disappointed. ep 133: predicting the lonely? tundra. like the lukases. hmm. sanikova! like sanikov land. so its the hunt? i suppose? yeah. so daisy's clearly rejecting the hunt, which makes sense cuz she doesnt seem to like the entities that much. wait so are we just not gonna talk abt all the tapes playing on the ground?? no? ep 134: not an archival assistant anymore? Adelard Decker (or however you spell it) i recognize that name. 15th power. i was right there are 15. the extinction? im trying to remember what ive heard. oooh spooky. no i gotta be real i dont understand this fear but i'll believe you that its a thing. ew lukas is so squealy. lukas can turn invisible? oh boy. oooh martin put the tape recorders there. lol lukas is worried he's gonna be an avatar of the eye. ep 135: yoo its the third Daedalus statement! maxwell rayner (reiner? reigner?) i dont know who that is but ik its somebody. is he the cult leader guy? church of the divine host? 4 people?? what? did they kidnap somebody and keep them up there?? oh dear jon are you dying? did he try to See or Know or whatever? why does everyone call basira detective lol. ep 136: he was the one from the spider movie that ate ppl right? the special effects artist? is it annabelle cane? "its a joke jon" lol. hmm they wanted to record the therapy session with melanie? i wonder who that is. i almost wanna guess annabelle cane but im not sure. ep 137: this is the one! he went to the other place and read the war statement but it wasnt the one she took. not the music again. sounds like the slaughter. who the heck is eric lol. "the watcher's crown" like the crown of eyes we saw in the piccrew ep 138: oh boy Robert Smirk time. is that elias? as unhelpful as usual. if new powers can be "born" can others die out? did jonah magnus wear the watchers crown? maybe they were born from our fear or maybe our fears were born from them. ceaseless watcher does ceaselessly watch so. idk what you want

big man. yeah jonah for sure did something. ep 139: agnes!! lol that one dude threw off all their plans thats so funny. BUT this does tell us something. the tree in the backyard of the hilltop house? not made by her. it going down didnt kill agnes. im guessing gertrude tied agnes to the house using the tree? u good jon? cuz every time you try to Know smth intentionally it seems like it causes you great pain. how come he can do it accidentally with no problem but the second he wants to know smth of plot relevance he gets a headache or whatever ep 140: lol pagan exultation. classic. "oh thats my rib" lmaoo. ppl are always so mad at jon and his Eye powers except when it benefits them. they're like "oh you shouldnt do that its not right" and then all of a sudden they want to know something and its all "oh cmon jon its the only way" ep 142: oh god jon what did you do. its interesting she's giving her statement in the way that they do when jon Asks. did he see her in the Coffin? and so he's following her? ok cmon jon you're supposed to let them come to you. lmao ikr martin. "start to hear the blood" "suure." lmao ep 143: lol that awkward moment when gertrude is already dead. big J if you die im gonna kill you. bruh. ayo helen? i guess it worked? ep 144: lol this reminds me of that one edgar allan poe story where he kills the old dude with the weird eye. spooky music stuff. lol thats my favorite symptom of a heart attack its hilarious. so its smth abt the location probably? bro i feel like you should write down the numbers idk. 162830165049 564846474827. seems like the distortion? like the kinda thing that causes you to go crazy because of the numbers. oh boy is it the extinction again. bro what?? im?? his dad just died and he's like eh. martin dont be mean. he's being all lonely again. big man ur pushing ppl away. oh god its fucking squealy boy. ep 145: that almost sounds like breekon/hope... Arthur? agnes. aah was he from the lightless flame cult. a tree. lol he's just ranting rn. hehehe fuck landlords amirite. yay someone tells jon outright to go to therapy. now do it big man. ep 146: oh great! the distortion! i'm making a spiral themed building in mc right now! jon maybe accept you did a bad? nah this goes back to what i said before. they're fine with him compelling ppl when its convenient for them but otherwise its "no jon you cant, youre a monster jon" the tapes didnt turn on. i spose that means its not important? i agree with daisy, this seems unecessarily dangerous. ep 147: is that a tape? the first tape? well that went better than i expected tbh. BAHAKJASHDJKF she did the "can i call you jon" like nikola says "elias, can i call you elias?" damn annabelle is such a girlboss. oh! the one thing from the picrew. its been a while since ive connected smth to that. lol all the other avatars always talk abt their patron so lovingly and the jon just. absolutely hates the eye. ep 148: lol thats the most elias thing. "i just like the way it sounds" ep 149: did he disappear? bruhh. ur lonely powers are popping off i guess. oops i accidentally deleted my notes for 150 - 152 ep 153: thats the cult right? yeah. it doesnt sound like the church of the divine host? idk. if it is the church of the divine host then they worship the dark right? so is the eleventh the dark star or wtvr? it almost sounds like the corruption b/c of the oil or grease or whatever. oh dear what happened. oh its the hunters. theyre so annyoing. not an "it" he has a name. he's a person. is this a page from the skin book? ep 154: oh shit this is gerry's dad! oh shit he quit! oh dear god. jon don't you do it. haha martin. yeahhhh... is he gonna tell the others? cuz you know theyre gonna get mad if he doesnt. oh also picrew connection! the bandages over the eyes? yeah thats this im guessing. ep 155: oh good he told them. oh my god what did you do. lol i have no mouth and i must scream. nah you get none of my sympathy you're straight up murdering ppl. its like the desolation, destroying lives to sustain your own. ok but taking their statements doesnt

kill them. oh... bye melanie. ep 156: lmao imagine if the tape recorder spoke back. oh boy decker! i swear we got a statement from him already. oh god mirrors scary. They're gonna eat the body arent they. Yup... sounds like the flesh or the slaughter, but I'm not sure. Could be the extinction for sure. Smth at the center! Like Helen mentioned. God Peter you dick. Ep 157: peter's just so :/ another decker statement i see. a statement about the corruption? hmm. maybe its not abt the corruption. the extinction. lol pandemics. topical. John Amherst. helen? lol i can hear admiral purring in the background. oh cmon helen dont be like that. im trying real hard to like you but you make it so difficult. ep 158: did they fucking free the stranger? im gonna lose it. you absolute dumbass. im sorry who is that? jonah magnus? my guy. peter. you absolute dickhead. that's elias. (im p sure i had this spoiled for me that elias is jonah) oh dear this is her death. god peter you prick. i hope this is a pop off martin moment and not a "martin you idiot" moment. i hope the hunters kill the stranger entity. or she kills them. furry daisy pop off! yeah fuck you peter martin can make his own decisions. you know that clip from Twisted where jafar says "ok what the fuck was that" martin D: ok like i know its gonna work but still D: D: ep 159: peter you bitchboy. because if im alone i cant hurt anyone else. imnotgonnacryimnotgonnacryimnotgonnacry do it do it do it do it. pop off jon. ok its a pretty good idea for a ritual i gotta be honest. she didnt even have to blow it up lol. oh dear that was certainly a noise. "he gets you" did he not have jon already? he's back! our boy is back! awwww thats so cute. ep 160: oh right this is the thing in the safe house. i love him. "obviously im going to tell you if i see any good cows" martin my beloved <3 :)) oh boy who is this. fuckin. people. jonah you dick. gahh. you can tell he's trying to resist so hard lol. ohh. hehe keep an *eye* on him. altho if the extinction is a real thing he needs to be marked by that right? lol he sounds so intense im sorry- i want martin to just burst in and be like "look at this cow i saw!" its so dramatic and for why.

[bisexualsforprompto]

Worth Chapter Two

(Mostly some introductions, integral exposition. The next chapter will be far more interesting).

~~~~~~~

Marinette walked onto the plane, the day was a much better day. She had a whole breakfast, and was so excited that she never even thought of disappointing anybody. That is until she got onto the bus, Lila started talking about how the city was crime ridden and she couldn’t believe Marinette would let them go. Marinette’s heart sank, she was right. Gotham was dangerous, if something happened she’d never forgive herself. She’d be a failure just like Chat always knew.

Luckily for her, Lila’s story had to be centered around the liar herself so she quickly changed the subject and regaled the bus with her “true stories” of how she and Batman had teamed up, he even wanted to make her a superhero, but of course Lila was too busy. She also told the bus about how her and Damian Somethingorother (marinette couldn’t remember the name because her BS detector was going off too loudly) were in an on again off again relationship. Marinette sat down in a back seat in the bus, she knew that Alya wouldn’t join her, she was too invested in Lila’s story, but to her delight Kay joined her.

Kay Khan was Marinette’s other best friend. Gigantic theatre nerd, couldn’t go a day without talking or singing but Marinette wouldn’t have it any other way. The rest of the class thought she was a little odd, but she was a genius. Like freaky smart, so they all tried to work with her when they could. Unfortunately for Kay, Marinette was really her only friend because she was...overly blunt. Kay didn’t have a filter and Lila took her down pretty quickly.

On Kay’s first day she came into the class and expressed her adoration of theatre when Miss. Bustier asked her what her hobbies were. Kay told the class that her favorite musical was Newsies because Jeremy Jordan was the original Jack Kelley. So of course Lila said that she personally knew him, on that day Marinette was not happy. Chat had been a handful the night before and she expected the new girl to fall for Lila’s lies, instead Kay asked, “Wasn’t he just amazing in Dairy Boys?” Lila nodded and exclaimed, “I saw him in that. A true work of art.” Kay smirked and sat down, but not before saying, “That’s funny because Jeremy Jordan was never in Dairy Boys, oh, and Dairy Boys doesn’t exist.”

Marinette knew Kay and her would be great friends, but that meant Lila had Kay targeted. Not only for humiliating her (which she quickly covered with another idiotic lie), but also because she vowed she’d take Marinette’s friends away. That included the weird new girl. It didn’t help that Adrien also seemed to hate Kay, mostly because she had called out Lila. If it had been a year ago Marinette would’ve never talked to Kay just because Adrien didn’t seem to like her, but after Chat Noir had demeaned her as Ladybug she felt like she didn’t deserve somebody like Adrien. Marinette gradually fell out of love with Adrien until there were no feelings left. She hadn’t felt romantic love in a really long time, she didn’t deserve it.

The class already wasn’t fond of Kay, especially since she missed classes a lot. Her mother was a director who was directing a movie Kay starred in in Paris. Her first television debut. The class was naturally insanely jealous, but it didn’t matter to Kay because she was barely in school to hear the awful things they said.

The only reason she was going on the trip was because she had family in Gotham and her mother decided to give her a little break. Kay accepted when she knew Marinette had planned the trip, she wanted to keep an eye on her best friend. She wasn’t the best with expressing emotions or giving advice but she could tell Mari was spiraling sometimes. Kay knew all about spiraling…

Kay sat down next to Marinette, starting to giggle. Mari smiled, Kay’s laugh was ridiculous and normally she laughed at funny musical memes nobody got but her, it brought Marinette lots of entertainment to hear Kay say every time she looked at a meme and Marinette asked about it, “YOU’VE NEVER HEARD OF [INSERT SHOW TITLE HERE]?!?!” Marinette was about to ask what Kay was laughing at before somebody beat her to it, only this somebody wasn’t going about it the way Mari would’ve.

“Spaz, why are you laughing at Lila?!” Ivan asked pointing rudely at Kay. “Yeah! You have no right to laugh at her!” Mylené said coming to her boyfriend’s defense.

“I wasn’t laughing at her, I was laughing at something she said.” Kay stated plainly before slapping her headphones on. Marinette internally facepalmed, Kay was far too blunt. Lila started her crocodile tears but Miss Bustier stood up on the plane for a head count before it escalated too far. While she took role the class still shot daggers with their glares at Kay, but only Marinette seemed to notice, Kay was lost in the world of her headphones.

Alya was still entranced in Lila’s story but she wasn’t too harsh on Kay, her and Nino were pretty indifferent about her. Alya at first wasn’t too fond of her because despite Marinette being friends with her Lila claimed she was a bully, but Alya warmed up to her when she and Kay bonded over superheroes they liked. Kay had watched a lot of superhero movies because her mom had directed them but Alya still knew more. Kay and Alya had a mutual respect for each other, Nino was basically Alya’s extension so he felt the same, so they didn’t really talk and Alya didn’t gang up on her like the others.

Marinette knew Kay didn’t like to be disturbed when she had her headphones on. It was headphones on, world off. Marinette did text her though, so she could talk to her friend before they took off and eventually fell asleep.

Mari!!!☺️🤩🥳😺🤗: Wait so what were you laughing at that Lie-la said?

Kay Khan: lol the guy she was talking about was one of my friends when I lived in Gotham!

Mari!!!☺️🤩🥳😺🤗: cool! Do you’ll think you’ll see him? I’d like to meet any friends of yours!

Kay Khan: It’s possible, anything’s possible (Suessical). Ummm mayb. He’s kinda moody tho so he might be somewhat rude just warnin ya.

Mari!!!☺️🤩🥳😺🤗: Really? I can’t imagine you being friends with somebody like that. You’re literally sunshine.

Kay Khan: Awwww thankies! But Damian is super cool once he warms up to you, he’ll like you I bet. OMG I BET HE’LL LIKE YOU!!! ;)

Kay Khan: OMG YES I CAN SEE IT NOW! CAN I BE THE MAID OF HONOR AT UR WEDDING? AHHH IM TOTES SETTING U UP AS SOON AS WE GET IN GOTHAM!!!

Kay Khan: OMG WHATS UR SHIP NAME? OMG MARIDAMI

Kay Khan: NO DAMAINETTE!!!!

Mari!!!☺️🤩🥳😺🤗: as...exciting as it is you shipping me with another guy I haven’t even met, the airplane dude just said turn off devices headphone girl.

Kay Khan: Dang! (Dang diggity dang a dang) I only got like 5 minutes into Jesus of Suburbia. Oh welllll

Kay took off her headphones and turned off her cell phone. She smiled at Marinette before the plane took off. Marinette took out her sketchbook as Kay quickly fell asleep. Marinette envied her, she could literally fall asleep anywhere anytime. Marinette looked out her window as she sketched for inspiration, and before she knew it she found inspiration within a sparkling city they were landing in.

“Psst, Kay. We’re here.” Marinette said in a hushed whisper as she poked at Kay. Kay sat up straight and rubbed her eyes.

“Dope! Let’s get this par-tay started!” She cheered quietly. Marinette giggled, “It’s 3am in Eastern time, I’m pretty sure even the Gotham people aren’t partying.”

“You never know.” Kay shrugged. Marinette giggled a little softer, trying not to wake the sleeping passengers on the plane until they landed in the airport completely. The French class started buzzing quietly from excitement but everyone was mostly too tired to be too excited so it was a relief to everyone when they were passed out in their rooms in the Wayne Hotel.

Kay and Marinette were elated for the days to come. Kay was going to make sure Marinette enjoyed her trip, no matter what.

Tag list (lemme know if you wanna be added/ I forgot you/ spelled your name wrong):

@northernbluetongue

@poshplumcot

@queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm

@luciferge

@legendaryneckjudgestudent

@interobanginyourmom

@beaversuenightly

@worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry

@mochinek0

@shamefullove

@emjrabbitwolf

@actual-disaster-human

@tog84

@thequestionablyhuman

@thyladyanput

@vixen-uchiha

@novicevoice

@2sunchild2

@zebrabaker

@chrismarium

@mycupisbroken

@winter-gardenflower

@dast218

@bluerosette23

@chocolatecatstheron

@anjuschiffer

@fertileleaf

@drarryismylife101

@zerotosiki

@littleredrobinhoodum

@fatimaabbasrizvi

@ladylb

@weird-pale-blonde-person

@st0rmy-w1th1n

@7-sage-7

@eve-is-the-dawn

@mooshoon

@caffinetheory

@fiendsangelical

@bee-wrecker