#How to Sew Bow Knots for Tops

[anielskaaniela]

Chic Bow Tie Clasps: Create Unique Bow Button Designs

In this post, you will learn how to sew fabric chic bow tie clasps with free PDF pattern. Welcome to the world of creative sewing! Whether you’re a seasoned seamstress or picking up a needle for the first time, this step-by-step tutorial is designed to guide you through the delightful process of crafting chic bow tie clasps. Perfect for adding a touch of elegance to any garment, these unique bow…

[unlovedanchor]

I AM ALL THE THINGS THEY MIGHT HAVE SAID TO YOU.

a prompt based off of the crane wives 2015 album, " coyote stories, " dark themes present. adjust if needed!

KEEP YOU SAFE.

" when i was a child, my nerves went wild. "

" i watched my friends climb to the tops of the trees. "

" i never climbed at all. "

" i told myself, 'i'm not ready.' "

" my daddy always said nothing worth doing comes easy. "

" nothing worth doing comes easy. "

" time is not your friend, time is not your remedy. "

" time is not your friend. "

" no amount of waiting will make you brave. "

" no amount of waiting will keep you safe. "

" the more fears i collect, i gather them from all the people i meet. "

" their stories reveal regrets their smiles can't conceal. "

" i carry them with me. "

" what if the steps i take turn out to be mistakes ? "

" how can somebody like me learn to stay ? "

THE MOON WILL SING.

" tell me once again. "

" tell me once again i could have been anyone. "

" i could have been anyone, anyone else. "

" i could have been anyone before you made the choice for me. "

" my feet knew the path. "

" we walked in the dark, i never gave a single thought to where it might lead. "

" i never gave a single thought to where it might lead. "

" all those empty rooms, we could have been anywhere else. "

" instead, i made a bed with apathy. "

" my heart knew the weight. "

" my heart knew the weight of ten years worth of dust and neglect. "

" ten years of worth of dust and neglect. "

" we made our peace with weariness and let it be. "

" the moon will sing a song for me, i loved you like the sun. "

" the moon will sing a song for me. "

" i loved you like the sun. "

" bore the shadows that you made with no light of my own. "

" i shine only with the light you gave me. "

" we could have had anything else. "

" instead, you hoarded all that's left of me. "

" i want to feel the fire that you kept from me . "

" i could have been anyone. "

ALLIES OR ENEMIES.

" the words i speak are wildfires and weeds. "

" they spread like some awful damn disease. "

" i swear, i didn't mean what i said. "

" i swear, i didn't mean it. "

" you owe me ears for dripping eaves. "

" forget it all, you caught me in a moment weak. "

" forget it all. "

" you caught me in a moment weak. "

" sometimes i just can't help myself. "

" i can't help myself at all. "

" are we allies or enemies ? "

" this will be the death of me . "

" remember when i could tell you not to smile ? "

" remember when i could tell you not to smile when you were mad ? "

" you would always crack, and we'd both be laughing in the end. "

" we'd both be laughing in the end. "

" now you're not so quick to forget. "

" all is fair in love and war, but i can't fight with you anymore. "

" what happens now ? "

" do we have another go ? "

" do we bow out and take our separate roads ? "

" i'll admit i've had my doubts. "

" i want to be let in, not out. "

UNRAVELING.

" i once loved a tailor who took eager care of me. "

" sewed together my loose ends with stitches. "

" stitches neat and clean. "

" but now my love is gone. "

" and i am left unraveling. "

" i once loved a gardener with his dirt-smudged face and hands. "

" trimmed my weeds and gave me room to grow. "

" i am left here withering. "

" i once loved a carpenter who carved a smile for me. "

" sanded my rough edges, crafted new and lovely things. "

" i can't help fracturing. "

" i never knew that i needed you. "

" i once loved a man who kissed me once before he left. "

" tied me up in knots and said he'd soon return again. "

HARD SELL.

" i'm trying to make something of myself. "

" my better days, i go buy the hard sell. "

" but i feel like i'm working with barbed wire. "

" i really can't get a hold of many things. "

" i'm one deep breath away from a breakdown. "

" my nerves are wrecked and coming unwound. "

" the world is hostile. "

" i'm fragile and i need someone to kiss the cuts. "

" tell me to keep trying. "

" is it me ? is it really just me ? "

" does everybody have it together or are we all pretending ? "

" holding it together with one loose string. "

" i can't stop pulling. "

"i rip myself apart at the seams. "

" i find one weak spot and start unraveling. "

" hoping i can find a better me. "

" a fresh new start. "

" can we stop pretending now ? "

ROCKSLIDE.

" i can hear the rumblin', honey. "

" it's why the weather's got the mountain shakin' weak. "

" i know you want to plant your feet. "

" we best get a move on. "

" or the devil we will meet. "

" i feel the quakin' honey, i feel it deep."

" oh, i pray today my soul to keep. "

" drop dead sprint, my darling. "

" don't look back now. "

" honey, just try to breath. "

" that monster's coming. "

" that monster's coming and it don't care for you or me. "

" it don't care for you or me. "

" the angels we may someday see. "

METAPHOR.

" i've gotten good at leaning on metaphors."

" i've gotten good at living on someone else's page. "

" i cut my teeth on secondhand sentiments. "

" you can't trust a single thing i say. "

" i keep my closet free of skeletons. "

" i'm much better at digging graves. "

" i always dig up bones in your sympathy. "

" i can't trust a single thing you say. "

" don't look too hard, you won't like the scars he left. "

" i've gotten good at stretching the truth out of shape. "

" all these words are sweet and meaningless. "

THE HAND THAT FEEDS.

" i've seen good men spoiled. "

" chained to their jobs like hounds. "

" they work and sleep and work again. "

" in the darkest nights they howl. "

" their cries are a warning to everyone following. "

" no man should stand to work all of his days. "

" and have nothing at the end of them. "

" i got no money but the change that jingles in my pockets. "

" reminding me of how little i have. "

" as for time, i am powerless to stop it. "

" it keeps rambling on like a mad, wandering man. "

" my papa was a howlin' man. "

" my dear papa gave me lessons and regrets. "

" all that he'd gone would be for nothing if [i] followed in his steps. "

" my papa taught me how to howl. "

" how to bear my teeth and growl. "

" he taught me that the hand that feeds, deserves to be bitten when it beats. "

" he taught he how to break my chains. "

" money ain't worth a thing. "

" no man should get more of my time than me. "

" i may never be a rich man. "

" i may never be a rich man but i can make sure that i am free. "

" i can make sure that i am free. "

" as for time, it's mine. "

LITTLE SOLDIERS.

" on the broken backs of all the words we spared. "

" like little soldiers in the trenches. "

" it was a march we made towards ruin and despair. "

" but we held hands all the while. "

" i swear that i loved you. "

" i dragged you through every room inside our home. "

" but you still held me at night. "

"i swear that you loved me. "

" we didn't give up. "

" we didn't dare surrender. "

" it was an honest loss. "

" now the aftermath will ring with songs you've sung. "

" all of our words sent home in boxes. "

" i fought with tooth and nail. "

" i fought with tooth and nail before the flag had flown. "

" but you were already gone. "

" i'll swear that i loved you. "

SLEEPING GIANTS.

" i feel the mountains shifting under me. "

" sleeping giants are finally waking. "

" my pulse is clear, rushing in my ears. "

" i hear something calling me. "

" the moon is humming lovely melodies. "

" the forest echoes, the trees are crowing. "

OF EVERLONG.

" out of the ocean, over the harbor. "

" lay no sons and lay no daughters. "

" among the mountains of everlong, 'twas there i wrote me a sad song. "

" 'twas there i wrote me a sad song. "

" and if my lover will not heed it ? "

" take my voice and take my spirit. "

" leave me weakened and dig my hole. "

" only my lover, not i, can keep my soul. "

NEVER LONG AN ANCHOR.

" on some level i think i always understood. "

" these hands of mine were clumsy, not clever. "

" i tried to do the best that i could. "

" but try as i might, i couldn't bring myself to hold you. "

" it's a secret i keep tucked inside my chest. "

" with this heart of mine that's guilty, not remorseful."

" there is love that doesn't have a place to rest. "

" it would have buried you if it had settled on your shoulders. "

" a ship could never really love an anchor. "

" so i did the only thing that i could. "

" i severe the rope and set you sailing from my harbor. "

" there are times i still wonder about you. "

" you are someone i have loved. "

" but never known. "

" you are someone i have loved but never known. "

" you'll never see the reasons i had for keeping my claws away when they were close enough to hurt you. "

" they were close enough to hurt you. "

" i am selfish, i am broken, i am cruel. "

" i am all the things that they might have said to you. "

" do you ever think of me ? "

" do you ever think fo me and my two hands ?"

" and wonder they never soothed your fevers? "

" and wonder why they never held you gently? "

" and wonder why they never had the chance to lose you ? "

NEW DISCOVERY.

" i want to stand on the edge of the water. "

" see horizons stretch on forever. "

" i want to know that there are lands not yet touched by human hands."

" not yet touched by human hands. "

" i want to be the one to find them. "

" sometimes i feel like i'm lost in a desert. "

" every dune is the same as the other. "

" i see my footprints in the sand. "

" i know where i've been and these steps i take won't go to waste. "

" i'm moving towards something. "

" i want to believe there's something left for me. "

" a new discovery waiting for me. "

" i want to kindle a love that doesn't age. "

" even when all the years carve lines into your face. "

" tell me will i be surprised? "

" tell me will i be surprised when i think i've memorized every touch and every thought ? "

" i want you to prove me wrong. "

[writer59january13]

August 13th, 2024 – twenty five plus years since awful series of unfortunate events

Once again tis time to pony up and trot out (neigh - without horsing around) an unforgettable day encompassing a series of unfortunate events (so take that Lemony Snicket! - yeah go ahead and picket!). Wicked bad day poem originally crafted, designed, engineered... then alternately titled for no particular rhyme nor reason:

unwitting courtesy extended to Doctor Donald (Duck) Dossey who coined paraskevidekatriaphobia.

Superstitious severely tested across fineline doggedly gingerly jinxing luck of mine August thirteenth nineteen hundred and ninety nine

forever etched in the annals of my personal infamy

as one still sending hair raising shivers down my spine

which following unpleasant details occurred on a street

that branched off kind of like a fork tine

adjacent to one named Woodbine.

Prior to the following awful events that unfolded aforementioned day

somewhat solemn and gray

I did not consider myself unduly superstitious

nor prone to bouts of triskaidekaphobia/ paraskevidekatriaphobia no how no way. Yet that particular Friday the thirteenth baptized me

in the bloody waters of superstition unequivocally

whence upon waking said particular morning

the search for funereal garb found me burrowing into a small closet

while bending on one knee, and nonchalantly rummaging for suitable article of clothing to wear

(per the wake/

sitting shiva of William Zison the octogenarian father in law) an unbeknownst ill fate

lurked just seconds away ready to cap cha an innocent prey as any unseen observer

and/or pet would agree.

Hands rifled and rustled thru various and sundry miscellaneous items in one or another box

mostly clothing and other apparel

draped in coat hangers

plus a precariously perched

heavy tin of yarn heavy as rocks

began to teeter from top ledge, than made a slow inexorable descent in direct path of thy crown

containing valued mental stocks. The topmost part of thine skull felt impact of sharp metallic rim

that left an indentation in soft part of scalp – more’n an abrasive skim

and bent circular shape

of contrivance filled to the hilt

one law of physics pertaining to falling object (taught to me) acquires greater mass accelerating with velocity and vim.

Upon reflexively yet tentatively touching raw sore spot

fingertips revealed presence of warm liquid soon coagulating into a pulpy gordian knot

from sharp lipped impact registering nausea and vertigo quite a lot

hence sewing crafts managed to stitch a tattooed laceration forming a bloody clot.

Body writhed with physical torment

as if being only partially alive

whereby waves of blacking or passing out found me swooning ready to take a swan dive

nonetheless from Schwenksville to Penn Valley, I did (by divine grace) safely drive

whence family members and relatives once destination reached, the motley crue began organized car pool arrangements

per heading off to the cemetery,

which caravan formation similar to a human bee hive, yours truly declined to go communicating persistent distress from mishap I bowed wowed out, stayed home and kept company with a dog (purportedly man’s best friend)

(said pet belonging to a friend of eldest sister in law), whose open palmed overtures of mine did not jive. An impulse found fingers reaching out to stroke this unfamiliar animal

supposedly man’s best friend

only to find sharp teeth from canine jaw clamped down hard on hand

which second bodily injury, my mother affixed a butterfly bandage to expedite the injury to mend, I did immediately tend

while bolts of white hot pain shot thru lower extremity of palm

radiated upward through forearm into shoulder did wend.

[echantedtoon]

A Bloom In Time Ch2 Idea Forming

Subcon Forest was not a place for just anyone to enter and exit as they please. There was a reason these woods had such a feared reputation and was rumored to be haunted. Because it was. By the King Snatcher of Subcon(as he liked to refer to himself) and his ghastly assortment of minions and dwellers behind him as his undead army, anyone who went in NEVER came out which added to the entire fightfulness of it all!!...Well no one except two little giggling girls who were currently playing with toys and crayons. The dark sky and dead trees twisted with dangerous vines as the sun dared not shine here. If that won't convince you to stay away then maybe the giant chunk of the forest that always so dangerously cold will? Or perhaps the section that's always burning bright with enchanted flames? Or maybe the ghostly king who claimed trespassers' souls as his own or the rumor of a powerful witch? Either way, whatever helps to keep tresspassers out he was all for it. But he had no real responsibilities today. The brats could wonder around his woods as long as they didn't go near the frozen half or Vanessa, or they could go exploring on any other part of the planet for all he cared. As long as they were both back home and in bed by six he was fine with it. Right now he was sitting down enjoying his book of dark tales and legends as he relaxed in his home. The old book in his claws as glowing yellow eyes scanned over the story unfolding from it's yellow pages.

Down in the world unknown there laid a kingdom drab and dark. Where darkness and shadows collided and lived in fear and power. One would be mad to even think about stepping in a place like this. Where the dead are gone but still there, the shadows played and roamed and full of terror. A frightful place brace heros dare not venture unless they wish to meet a tragic fate. Yes. This one place was alone ruled by a power hungry spirit, spited by his love in life and now seeks vengeance on any mortal who dared be foolish enough to be beckoned into his awaiting claws-

SQUEAK!!

.....Snatcher slowly looked up from his book with a small frown. The small express owl plush slowly slid off his face and fell onto his lap with another small squeaky toy sound and he stared down at the little girl who threw it at him and frowning back up at the ghost, and he rolled his yellow eyes. The book in his claws closed and placed down as he gave the girl what she obviously wanted, his attention.

"What is it kiddo? You know it's rude to throw things at people and interrupt someone reading. I thought I taught you two better than that."

"Can you fix it?" She walked up to the edge of his chair and stood on her tiptoes, poking her head over the chair and placing her hands on his lap.

"Fix what?"

She pointed to the toy in his lap and he blinked down at it. A noticeable tear in it's backside was present to him. He rose a brow further before looking back to the small girl by the chair. Bow had come up to join her and now both were peeking over the chair at him, and he sighed picking up said toy with a squeak. "You couldn't fix the toy yourself?"

Both shook their heads before Hattie spoke back up, "You said we weren't aloud to touch any needles, and we don't know how to sew anything."

He still stared at them for a moment before he sighed and forced his floating body up and over to his bookshelf in the corner and the small sewing kit on top of it. It was soon in his hands and the girls climbed onto the giant chair to have a better look at the floating sewing kit and the ghost who started repairing the small toy in his claws. The needle floating easily through the soft fabric of the toy as the floating needle pulled the thread through the tear, before he flicked a clawed finger and pulled the thread tight and the hole was closed up and tied in a tight knot to secure it in place. As he turned back around with the newly fixed toy in his hand, he snapped with his free hand and the kit immediately put itself away as he floated back over and handed the toy back to the two which was grabbed by Bow. They thanked the enormous undead creature by hugging his hand and jumping off said chair. Running out the doorway and laughing their heads off as the two chased each other around. He sighed...a rare small smile coming over his face before he settled back down into the comfy chair. Kids. So full of energy and laughter. Now where was he? OH YES!! With another snap the book went back to it's master's awaiting claws and opened at his own leisure. Now let's pick up where he left off shall we?

The old dusty book crinkled in his hands when he turned the page and began reading the page he left off at. He always enjoyed reading, it helped pass the time and it was one thing he could do now more than ever now that he had no real responsibilities....He glanced back out side real quick where the girls were currently sitting on the ground and using a large mushroom near the ground as a table for them to draw their pictures on and be surrounded by their small toys. Hattie absolutely LOVED exploring and running and jumping from building and trees with her weird alien powers, something about the world she was from having denser gravity and her kind used to space traveling and having to travel in a similar situation on land. But Bow could do similar things but in a less energetic way....When asked Hattie proudly stated she taught her everything, but the smaller curly haired girl preferred to just draw and play with toys rather than adventure. It was kinda cute the way they'd just compromised about what to do everyday. But kids will be kids. With a small smile on his face and book in hands he looked back to the book.

The creature of vengeance was known as one of promises and dealings. Whether If one were to want something most dear to their heart and was determined and pure, or if their heart was filled with greed, envy, and lust he would grant your reply if you were brave or stupid enough to find him. It was when one day a child from a nearby village heard of this rumor that they were excited to find out if it was true or not. Against their parents and everyone else's wishes and warnings, the small child had snuck out to venture into the forbidden dark woods. The brambles scraped and left cuts on their body, the creatures chased after and threatened to eat them if they didn't turn back now, for darker and more sinister things slept in these woods, but bravely the child went on. On and on on their journey to really see this sinister ghost who granted wishes and promises that the mortal eye would repulse to believe. Until the sinister avenger had been found and the massive shadow beckoned the child closer with a boney rigged hand. "You have traveled far and withstood the tests my forces forwarded. For that you have earned the right to one miracle granted to you. But a warning you have also earned. Be warned, with a pure and honest heart comes great rewards. With a heart who bleeds nothing but black with greed and jealousy, a foul end you shall meet. Think about the consequences greatly, for the repercussions shall be swift and tight. Think well, dear child." The small child dared to smile at the creature and simply reply, "I have no need for any treasures or anything of preciousness near me. I solely only wished for to see myself if the avenger of shadows was a true sight. And now that I have seen you for what a true being you are, I will simply be leaving satisfied my wish was fulfilled." The answer of the child amused the ancient spirit and he chuckled his hollow laugh at the very notion of it all.  "Wise answer to an otherwise difficult mortal choice. For that you shall still be granted a prize for your efforts. Name one and answer wisely." The small child as said had no need for such items like treasure and fortune, but they knew that the child's hard working mother were in need of some fortune in her life. So with a kind heart, the child looked to the spirit and asked for their miracle. "My mother works oh so hard to take care of me. It would be so nice for her to have just a little more luck on her side. Oh spirit, let me repay her for all her kindness she has shown me." "Your wish shall be granted. A selfless act is always it's own reward, but be wary of those who wish to use those fortunes to their own will." The child was permitted a safe leave back to their home and as promised their selfless act of kindness was granted by the spirit of shadows. The child and their mother mysteriously found an old box in their pantry one day that they had never known of before and upon opening it discovered many, many priceless jewels. The likes of which they had never seen before. With this new found fortune, the mother and child were able to gain a plentiful farm with all the necessities they needed to have a plentiful life. Farther down in the years the mother even remarried one of the strongest most handsome men in the small village. But this man was nothing but green with want, and treated the mother and her child terribly-

SQUEAK!!

....He looked up again with a frown when another plush toy hit the side of his head. This time it was a Mafia man that fell down to rest in his open book and he looked at the two girls staring up at him again and sighed. "Ok. What now?"

Bow pointed to the toy. "The arm is falling off. Can you fix it please?"

He frowned down at both of them as they innocently stared back and he groaned. Beckoning a finger to the sewing kit on the shelf before putting down the book and picking up the second toy, and true to Bow's word, there was a tear in the left arm threatening to let the whole arm fall off if it wasn't fixed. The kit flew over to him and out came the same needle and thread, and again the same process repeated as he grumpily started sewing the small toy's arm back into place. Within two minutes it was as good as new and handed back to the excited little girls, and the kit back into it's own place.

"Here. But next time, don't throw it at my face ok?...And let me know you want something fixed before you interrupt me, it's so rude."

Both girls giggled and again ran back off as he groaned and repicked up his book from his noodle lap, and started reading again. 

He was lazy, rude, and had a heart full of greed. Seeping of those who had better and helping him in life. But one fateful day everything changed. For one day he asked the child's mother a question. "My dear wife. You know I love you dearly, but I must ask you. Where did you receive such wealth and fortune." "Why, from a old wooden box in the pantry," she replied happily, "And inside the little wooden chest was gems and riches beyond our wildest dreams." "Yes, yes! But where did it come from?" "I know not how it got there or where it came from, but my child and I are oh so happy to have received such a delightful fortune. How we may live happily for a long while." Her husband was displeased with such an answer and once again asked but this time to the child. The child happily told the man his venture into the woods and his encounter with the spirit of shadows, filling the man's heart with more greed. That very night when the family slept, the man snuck out and made his own way into the deep woods of shadows and fears. Brambles cut his clothing, he cursed those who dare chase him and snap at his hinds as he ran, but the greed and lust in his heart was strong. So strong he persisted his heart green with envy. Alas finally he arrived and looking as though some creature had mangled him with their claws. The spirit was beckoning him closer with a bony rigged hand and spoke. "Oh one who's heart is sewn with greed and plight. You have sought me through danger and fright. Your actions of greed are inexcusable but like many before you have made it through the path of darkness. For that you have earned the right to one miracle, but also a warning. Be warned, with a pure and honest heart comes great rewards. With a heart who bleeds nothing but black with greed and jealousy, a foul end you shall meet. Think about the consequences greatly, for the repercussions shall be swift and tight. Oh one who comes to me with a black heart for his own wishes. I offer this to you so you may choose your wish wisely." The man paid no attention to the wise words of the ghost nor did he think about any real consequences for his actions as he spoke what he oh so desired. "Give me more riches than any man shall have!! Make my fortune one who will make me a fortunate man!! A bright castle and beautiful jewels is what I seek and most desire!!" "A answer I foresaw and one your shall have for not heeding my warnings. Oh man of greed and selfishness, you shall indeed have your wish awaiting you home. But do not be surprised when your unfortunate fate you shall unevitably meet. Now be gone creature of greed. My domain is not fit for one of you." The man left for his home and once his got there his had his miracle in the form of the purest black horse with a magnificent couch of ebony, inside the couch was boxes and jewels of every imagining. The man cared not for his wife or the young child that he had left behind, away in this marvelous new couch he received and off that horrid man went into the night with his shouts of greedy glee and pleasure as his family long forgotten. The mother and child awoken to no greedy man plaguing their lives and while the mother was quite saddened, she still had the child to watch after. As luck and fortune does benefit those with kind hearts, another man the mother sought and a kinder gentler man she got. With as much kindness to her and her child this man gave to combat the sorrows left behind by the other greed filled one. One day a message they did receive, about a much bigger estate of land and riches. The greedy man who had once left them behind without a second thought, was now no more as the spirits warnings he did not heed. As fate had decided he would be no more, a swift and tight end he did get. Leaving everything he valued behind of jewels and gold, to no man but a woman he did not care for. His wife and next of kin did receive, fame and fortune for kindness indeed. With kindness in their hearts the family did grow, and with it came all luck and fortune soon to glow.

For those with kind hearts and bright minds, often find themselves on the favorite end of fate's hands.

The old ghost hummed before turning the page of the book to read the next legend or dark tales of the book. It had plenty and so far this one had been the one with the most happiness in it. It was called The Spirit of Fortune and Fate. An oldie but goodie in his mind, he faintly remembered it from when he was younger, who knew someone would remember it enough after all this time to make a book with it, but I digress. He began to read the next legend-

SQUEAK!!

Something was thrown onto his lap and he looked down blinking to see a small cat plush on his lap, it's black fur and yellow eyes staring up at him and it looked a lot like those Nyakuza cats from the city....he rose a brow at it before moving the book and seeing the two cute children smiling up at him again. He groaned and picked up the toy...It didn't look damaged and he looked back to them with a raised brow or what could be considered an eyebrow on a ghost.

"What did I say about throwing toys at me? And what exactly do you want me to fix? " He turned the toy over in his claws. Seams were tight, no holes or tears, and it wasn't in no way word. It still had it's glow in the dark eyes painted on too. "There's no damage." The curly haired child held up a bow and he looked at it. "And? What's that for?"

"I can't get the bow around her neck to stay on, and it keeps looking wrinkled. Can you fix it please?"

Bow was always the more likely one of the two to use things like 'please' and her slightly higher voice made it cuter. He hated(loved it but would never admit it) it and groaned, taking the small bow from Bow and wrapping the long thin end of his tail around the cat toy's body to hold it still while his hands worked. He wasn't wasting magic energy on this, this time. But one downfall of not having knees he guessed. "You couldn't have done this yourself? I thought your name was Bow, kid?"

"That's the name everyone gave me because no one knew mine. Like how Hattie's....Hattie?"

"...I guess you got me there." His claws worked wonders in getting the small bow to stay and at least looked decent in his opinion. He guessed it must've looked good enough to the girls too because when his tail unwrapped around it, Bow gasped and held her arms out as it dropped into the child's awaiting arms and she giggled as the pretty pink bowed cat blankly stared back at her and he repicked up his book again. "There you go, now go play and let me have my peace-"

"Whatcha reading, BFF?" The ever mischevious Hated child reached her hands up and leaned against the chair to make grabby motions towards the book in his hands to which he pulled away and scowled.

"A grown up book you're not allowed to read."

"Why?," she asked climbing onto his chair and crawling into his lap.

He held it higher in one hand. "Because I said so."

SQUEAK!!

The toy was thrown back into his lap and Bow jumped up and latched a hold of the chair cushion, and was helped pull up the rest of the way by Hattie. "Why?," Bow asked as soon as she was sitting in his lap too regrabbing her toy in her arms, "What's it called?" Both were straining their necks up at the book in his hands and he growled. Not in a threatening way, in a way like an older brother would if their little siblings kept bothering him.

"It's Dark and Scary Legends and Stories by Ivanna Gitta Bat. And it's stories are too scary for you two." Their response was to giggle at him like regular children. He was a giant ghost and they played in a haunted forest of swamps with hands, fire spirits, dwellers, and a man trapped in the moon. Hattie had fought him and won, and had faced off against multiple enemies and other threats. How scary could his stories be?.....In a word. VERY. These stories had tales of old MEAN ghosts and gruesome fates, which was putting it lightly, and not fit for two seven year old kids. They couldn't even sleep without their space unicorn nightlight. So with a snap of his hand the book flew and hid itself in the tall shelf of books as the girls 'awwww'-ed in disappointment. "I mean it. NO!!...And what did I tell you two about throwing things at me?"

"You said not to throw it at your face. We threw Mr. Night-" Bow held up the cat teddy. "-at your lap."

Loopholes. They always used them. He sighed and leaned back into his chair while reaching up to rub his face. "Don't you kids have like a minion to play hide and seek with or toys you left outside to play with? You could at least learn how to tie a simple bow to keep yourselves entertained."

"But you fixed them. Don't you wanna play with us?"

He moved two clawed fingers to peer at the girls between them. "Not right now. You'll never understand being...endless aging kids, but grown ups sometimes want their own alone time. Like how you two like to have separate adventures, besides couldn't you just use those time pieces to rewind the damage or som-"

"NO!!" Both jumped at the sudden and loud tone the kid used and she scowled up at the lightly startled ghost. "I can't use them like that!! That's not how they work at all!"

....He blinked before leaning his head in one hand and frowning, "Then elighten me please. After all I-....I don't think you even told me how they work. Besides them keeping you,...you." He pointed to the fact that she was still permanently stuck as a kid. Not that he was complaining. More company for eternity right?

But she just shrugged. "I dunno exactly. I just know that you can't use them without something bad happening most of the time, that's why they're locked up."

"Wait. I thought you could use them."

She shook her head again. "Only reverse what they do, why do you think I use them to power my ship?" She stood in his lap and gave a salute. "The S.S. KIDDO!!" Then her form paused...and she looked down. "They also cut into the user's past and makes them go crazy with that kind of stuff. Like the evil witch in your story." That got a chuckle out of them....and it also made a lot of sense for the affects. He knew when he found one, he went full on crazy with the desire to keep them all. The power of something like THAT under his claws and more than one was appealing to him- "They kinda work like wishing stars." He snapped out of his rambling and blinked down at the little girl who plopped herself back down in her lap and blinked up at him. "Like how I made a wish on a shooting star last week for a whole plate of cookies and Cooking Cat gave me some for a surprise!! And Mustache wished to make all bad guys disappear and it gave her crazy powers to blast them away like in Timmy's video games." She scowled. "She's still a big meanie." 

He huffed and smiled a bit....but paused at what she just said. '....Wished to make all bad guys disappear....' '....Gave her powers to blast them away...' How many times had he wished for a certain person to disappear? To get lost? How many times had he wished to never be able to see her again or even risk her being so close? All the trauma and bad memories and all the hurt Vanessa had ever caused could just...be whisked away. POOF!! Like it never even happened....WHY HADN'T HE EVER THOUGHT OF THIS SOONER!? Well, to be far he did have one or two little distractions that kept him on his toes-...Er. Tail so to speak. He slowly looked back to her with much greater interest now.

"Well that's just the cat....But what exactly do you mean they 'work like shooting stars'? You mean that they grant wishes like genies or something?"

She tilted her head confused and blinked. " I don't know what a genie is, but sorta? They make a alternate timeline that has your wants and collides in into your own timeline to make it happen. Why do you think I had to fix all those time rifts?"

.....He blinked, "So you know about time and alternate timelines but you don't know how to tie a bow?" She shrugged again and he sighed..before pausing...."You said they could make anything happen?"

She shrugged not paying attention now as she leaned back into his cool but soft body and pulled off her hat, reaching inside and pulling out a chocolate chip cookie and sticking it into her mouth. "I gueff so." She mumbled with her moth full. "But I don't mike dem mwilke dat."

"Don't eat with your mouth full," he mumbled have paying attention. His mind was elsewhere, or more specifically on SOMEONE. ...Have you ever wished someone would disappear? Yes. And the answer might be right in front of him- 

"Snatcher?"

He hummed and looked down to Bow who tugged on his lowered arm. "Can you tell us a story? Please?"

.....He sighed. "Alright. Ill uh..Tell you the one I just finished reading, but after this I wanna be left alone for a little bit." Both girls snuggled down into his sides and he groaned again. This would be a while. "*AHEM* Down in the world unknown there laid a kingdom drab and dark. Where darkness and shadows collided and lived in fear and power. One would be mad to even think about stepping in a place like this-" Hat Kid raised her hand. ".....Yes?"

"What does 'drab' mean?"

He groaned. Yep. Gonna be a looooong day today.

[artmill-danaan]

DUCK LUCIFER

Crochet 3,5mm or 4mm (I use 3,5mm because I don’t have a 4mm crochet)

Yarn: D.M.C Knitty 4 Ref 8120 (4mm): 1 white, red, orange and yellow/gold

Terms:

- Ch = chain

- Sc: single crochet

- Dc: double corchet

- St = stich

- Sts = stiches

- Sc2tog = single corchet 2 together (or decrease)

- Inc = increase

- Sl = slip

- Sk = skip

I) FOR THE DUCK

a) 1st Part of the body: WHITE Yarn

R1: ch 2 and insert 8 sc in the second ch from the hook (8)

R2: inc around by sc twice in each stich (st) (16)

R3: (sc1, inc1) x8 (24)

R4-R7: sc 24 (24 - 4 rounds)

R8: decrease by crocheting 2 together all around (sc2tog) (12)

R9: inc all around (24)

R10: sc 22, inc twice (26)

R11: sc 23, inc twice, sc (28)

R12: sc 24, inc twice, sc 2 (30)

R13: sc 25, inc twice, sc 3 (32)

R14: sc around (32)

b) Beak: at the front of the face: ORANGE Yarn

R1: ch in between R5-R6 of the head, sc 2 then sl st

R2: turn, skip a st, sc 2, sl st in last st. FO and weave the ends inside the body of the duck.

c) Eyes

Attach them either on the same level as the beak or on the upper row. Not to far from the beak, 1 or 2 sts away.

d) 2nd part of the body: WHITE Yarn

R15: (sc1, sc2tog once)x2, sc 10, (sc2tog, sc1)x3. Sc2tog 2, sc, sc2tog (24)

R16: (sc1, sc2tog once)x8 (16)

Start putting the stuffing into you duck's body.

R17: sc2tog all around (8) Add stuffing.

R18: sc2tog all around (4) Finish stuffing the body.

R19: sc2tog all around (2)

R20: finish decreasing (sc2tog) and weave the tail of the yarn into the body.

e) Wings

1st and 3rd wings:

R1: RED Yarn - ch 2, dc in the same st as the ch. Dc 2 in each of the next 4 sts.

R2: switch to WHITE Yarn (introduce white strand at the base of last st of R1) - ch2, turn, sk a st, sc in next 2 sts, sl st.

Weave strands of WHITE and RED and bury it in the body of the duck.

2nd wing –middle wing:

R1: RED - ch 2, dc in the same st as the ch. Dc 2 in each of the next 6 sts.

R2: ch1, turn, sk a st, sc in the 7 sts.

R3: ch1, turn, dc in the 7 sts.

R4: Sk st x2 along ridge of the wing to come back to the base of the wing then switch to WHITE Yarn - ch2, turn, sk a st, sc in next 2 sts, sl st.

Weave strands of WHITE and RED and bury it in the body of the duck.

Tuto youtube that can be used:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JJ53NWc2tOU&ab_channel=SweetSofties

II) FOR THE TOP HAT

a) Hat

R1: WHITE Yarn - ch 2, sc 6 sts in the 1st ch (6)

R2: inc in each sts (12)

R3: (sc1, inc1)x8 (18)

R4: sc 18 through back loop of R3 (or interior loop) (18)

R5-9: sc 18 (4 rounds)

R10: switch to RED Yarn - sc 18 (1 round)

R11: sc 18

R12: (sc7, sc2tog)x2 (16)

R13: switch back to WHITE Yarn - in front loop (exterior of hat):

(sc2, inc1)x5, inc1 last time (22)

R14: (sc1, inc1)x11 (33).

Keep a long tail so that you can sew your hat on the duck at the end.

A tuto youtube that can help: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f65kzLF6Uh4&pp=ugMICgJmchABGAHKBQtjYXQgY3JvY2hldA%3D%3D

b) Snake: YELLOW/GOLD Yarn

R1: 1ch in back of the hat; 2)sc in 2 to 3 sts at the base of the hat; 3) ch 3; 4) (sc2, ch3)until you're back to the beginning of the tail.

R2: ch 36 then sc in sts 35 and 34. Cut the yar and weave the end in the round head of the snake.

End: weave the serpent in R1 by weaving it in between the (ch3) parts of the row 1.

c) Apple: RED Yarn

R1: ch 2, sc 6 in 1st st (6)

R2: sc 3, inc, sc 2 (7)

R3: sc 2, sc2tog, sc1, sc2tog (5)

R4: sc2tog until you can close the apple. Keep a long tail and sew the apple on the hat thanks to the tail by weaving it in the hat.

d) Crown:

Take some yellow or golden tissu and sew it on the hat.

III) BOW : BLACK Yarn

1st: ch 9

R1: sk first ch, 8sc (8)

R2: turn, ch 1, 8sc (8). Pull off the end, cut the yarn and weave the end in between sts.

Use some yarn to make a knot in the middle and attach it to the duck.

IV) FINISHING

Depending on how your hat looks like, you might have to put some stuffing in to have it not crease on the inside.

Weave the WHITE tail of the hat from the outside to the base of the hat then use it to sew the hat on top of the duck's head. Finish off and bury what's left of the tail inside the duck's body.

WIP of my ducky lucifer, working on the bow and I still have to make the lapels to and get some tissu for the crown and undershirt (gotta be honest, I'm not sure I'll do the undershirt yet 😅)

[softomi]

butterflies

prompt: I read in a book once that blue butterflies symbolize many things but I think my favorite was that they are wish-granters. So if you see a blue butterfly, make a wish.

pairing: atsumu x reader

word count: 3.3k

general taglist: @graykageyama

Between the twins, Osamu was always your favorite and it was clear that Osamu preferred you over his brother. Atsumu was the bane of your existence ever since they moved across the street from you. Seven years old, the parents happily introducing themselves, the children staring at each other awkwardly. One held a volleyball, the other staring at you. They were supposed to be your new friends, though all of you were seven, technically you were older. You were a grade above them having just made the cutoff to enter school early, that didn’t stop Atsumu from addressing you as though you were younger than him.

“Ow.” You fell onto your butt, Atsumu had harshly pushed you, “Tsumu.” You began to whimper, tears forming in the corner of your eyes.

He didn’t mean to push you so hard, he just didn’t like that your cooties were going to stain him. There’s a pretty blue butterfly pin in your pigtail braid and when he reaches out, your cries lessen. Your eyes widening, perhaps he was going to help you up. His fingers tug on one of your braids, a little too harshly that the butterfly pin falls out. You begin to wail more at how hurtful he was being.

“Tsumu!” Osamu rips Atsumu’s hand away, shoving the boy to stand between you and his brother. Osamu has dirt on his face from playing far away, he had left momentarily to dig through the ground but as soon as he heard your cries, he came running, “Don’t be mean!”

Atsumu doesn’t know what he did wrong, was it so bad that he was interested in your braids, “She’s the one being a cry baby.” He sticks his tongue out, scowling at you for ruining his fun.

The twins parents have emerged from the home, their mother helping you up and dusting off the dirt from your dress. Osamu lunges at Atsumu, they’re pulling each other’s hair, Atsumu is shoving his brother’s face with his palm, Osamu’s knee is pressing against his brother’s chest. Their father lifts Osamu off Atsumu, scolding the boys loudly for starting a fight.

“Apologize!” Atsumu’s head is forced in a bow by his father.

Atsumu’s fingers are clenched in a fist, “I’m sorry.” He’s gritting through his teeth. He has a scar on his cheek from his brother and he watches with a heavy glare at the way Osamu has his hand in yours, leading you into the home with their mom.

Atsumu plays by himself outside, his father watching him throw around the volleyball for an hour. He catches the ball and holds it still when he hears the door of the home opening. For a second he turns thinking Osamu has decided to come out and play but he scowls when you’re walking to him with your pretty blue polka dot dress.

“I brought you a cookie.” You have a plate in your hands, chocolate chip cookies looking freshly made. He reaches but his hand knocks the plate out of your hands, the cookies sadly falling onto the floor.

“Miya Atsumu!” His father’s stern voice sends a chill down his spine. Before he knows it, he’s being dragged into the home by the back of his shirt.

Atsumu thinks, it’s your fault he’s always getting in trouble.

After Osamu walks you home, Atsumu is allowed to come out of his room. He’s back outside and when he walks through the grass, something shiny attracts his attention. His fingers reach out, gripping the butterfly pin he remembers in your hair. He stuffs the pin in his pocket, running to throw around the volleyball with his brother.

As time went on, Atsumu, Osamu, and you fell into a respective trio dynamic. You were close-knit with Osamu, sharing similar interests in movies, games, and books. With Atsumu, you bickered and spat with him over every little thing; he stopped pulling your hair but that only egged him to think of other modes of torture. Osamu was always there to beat his brother up for you, someone’s got to knock him down a peg and that’s exactly what Osamu did.

By the time the twins entered junior high, Atsumu was beginning to notice he was the third wheel and the only way you’d ever look his way was when he tormented you. He’d spill his drinks on you, eat your food, purposely poke your sides to make you jump, scare you from around the corner, and even just plainly verbally hurt you.

“Did you gain weight?” Atsumu poked your stomach. You slap his hand away, trying to ignore him until Osamu arrived. You should have known better than to walk with Atsumu. He slings an arm around your shoulders, “Did you look in the mirror today when you got ready?”

His cackle is blow to your heart, you jab an elbow into his side, your palm wiping away a stray tear.

“Are you crying?” As much as Atsumu doesn’t want to laugh, because he doesn’t, he feels guilty, horrible even, but his automatic reaction is to chuckle, “Hey, I’m“ His apology is cut off when a fist forces him to step back.

Osamu blows on his fist, he looks at his brother with a grin, “Call it twin telepathy, I just knew you were being mean.”

Not much changed in high school, him a mere second year and you a third year. The only change he can think of is the fact that now you had a whole team to back you up. Kita was rather sharp in detecting Atsumu being a little prick to you, Suna took pride in tripping the blonde if he as much tried to approach you, the other’s seem to take more of an approach of just being near you. After all, you being their volleyball club manager was more important than Atsumu.

“Hey.” Atsumu’s voice stops you dead in your tracks before you can even step foot into the gymnasium to start setting up, “What’s with that on your face?”

Your hand instinctively flies to your cheeks, “What?”

His hand wildly gestures to his own face, “You trying to impress someone? Make-up won’t do you any good.”

You didn’t think anyone would notice the thin layer of foundation you put on or the minimal line of eyeliner; even your eyeshadow was so sheer, you wondered how he even saw it. You give him a cold shoulder, “Go fall off a cliff Atsumu.”

He follows you into the gym, setting his bag down onto one of the benches. He makes his way behind you, his finger dipped into your skirt, pulling at the waistband, “Oi, you have a rip in your skirt.”

“What are you doing?!” Osamu drops his bag at the entrance of the gym, he’s running, tackling his brother to the ground.

“Get the fuck off me!” Atsumu is shoving his brother.

Osamu is digging his brother’s face into the floor, “You’re being a perv!”

“Fuck you!” Atsumu is on top of his brother now.

You could clear up the situation if they weren’t so engrossed in murdering each other. They continue to roll on the floor, taking turns shoving the other’s face into the ground. You use their distracted minds to pull your skirt around. He was telling the truth, it was barely noticeable but there was a tiny rip on the waistband, probably where he had been pulling.

Atsumu is biting the insides of his mouth, he had been scolded by Kita when Osamu explained what had happened, and even when you explained he had no ill intentions; Kita still lectured him on how it isn’t appropriate to touch a girl without her permission. Now he’s running laps around the gym with the rest of the team while you fiddle with the fabric of your skirt.

“Here.” You look up at him, Atsumu had disappeared for ten minutes and when he returned, he towered over you, in his hand a small sewing kit, “If you keep playing with it, you’ll end up ripping the entire skirt. No one wants to see that.”

Even when he’s being nice, he has to throw in a blow to your self-esteem.

“Thanks.” You say bitterly, “But I don’t know how to sew.” Your finger scratches against your head, “I know, I’m stupid.”

You’re not. Atsumu wants to say.

You shift uncomfortably when he suddenly takes a knee. He pulls the thread from the kit, looping it through the needle to make a small knot.

“Can I?” He’s asking permission to touch you and you merely nod.

Compared to his usual self, Atsumu’s touch is soft. You stare at how concentrated he is, stitching the ripped fabric so that it looks almost brand new. Though your uniform skirt was black, the thread he chose was vibrant red. He leans his head near your hip, he uses his teeth to sever the rest of the thread. His breath hot, you could barely feel it through the fabric of your shirt. Your cheeks tint with a blush when he briefly catches your gaze, he looks away quickly.

“What are you doing now?!” Osamu has returned from his long bathroom break; his hand pulls his brother back by the neck of his shirt.

“Samu!” You wave your hands around, “It’s alright, he was just helping me.” You point to the red thread of your skirt.

Atsumu has his hands up in mercy, Osamu eyes him, “I’m onto you.”

“What? Why?!”

Osamu throws a volleyball at his brother’s head, “Because! You’re an asshole!”

“We’re twins, so by default, you’re an asshole too.”

Atsumu starts to run, Osamu tackles him pretty quickly.

There’re girls piled at the door of Atsumu’s classroom, one by one they come in as though they’re presenting their sacrifices to the king himself. He has chocolates stacked to the ceiling, the teachers are already spreading news that they can’t yell at him since they are gifts and if he was forced to throw any away, the female student body would wreak havoc.

The second-year girls slink back when they spot you, a third year that has all the second-year boys turning heads. Some are boldly stopping you to present their own chocolates which you take sweetly. They sigh happily when you walk away.

“Please accept my confession!”

You enter as the class falls dead silent, you’ve come to the second year classroom to give your gifts to the volleyball boys but you’ve stumbled into what seems to be a public love confession to Atsumu. He leans back in his seat, balancing on the back two legs of the chair as he looks up to the girl. She’s shaking from anxiety with her chocolates out for him, the students begin to whisper the longer he takes to answer. You pity her because Atsumu is a complicated person, you just never know what he’s thinking or what he’ll do next.

“Sorry sweetheart, can’t accept any more chocolates. Teacher says I have too much.” Atsumu settles himself onto the four legs of his chair, “You can try Osamu.”

Some of the students let out audible gasps at his comment. You watch her lower her head, brushing past your shoulder in a dejected fashion. The class goes back to bustling rather quickly. Suna sits straight up when he spots you at the door, he taps on Osamu’s desk, the male turning away from the window. Atsumu turns to look over his shoulder, his lips in a thin line when you walk towards the three.

“Happy Valentine’s day.” You have three bags in your hand, you settle one on Osamu’s desk, one falls into the hands of Suna and the last lingers between your fingers. Atsumu stares at it, he notices you have scribbled his name on the side.

The longer you stand without giving it to him, the more he gets irritated. His leg bounces rapidly, he notices the ugly boxes of chocolates squished between your arm and side; pathetic boxes given by pathetic guys. He could do better.

“I just came to drop these off.” Your voice is starting to fade as you notice the last bag still in your hand. You flip the bag around, Osamu and Suna stare at it, a weak glance to their setter, “I’ll see you guys later.”

Osamu got cookies and a gift card to the café he’s been dying to try out. Suna got cookies and a cute little fox plush. Atsumu got nothing but a blow to his pride. He’s sitting arms crossed, knee bouncing against his desk as he refuses to look at Osamu and Suna. Atsumu wonders what you had put in the bag for him.

He had thought long and hard about his gift, Atsumu wasn’t planning on getting you anything for Valentine’s day but the team insisted that it would be a good day to show their appreciation for their manager. When Atsumu asked Osamu what he had gotten for you, Osamu showed him the mug he bought that had a bunny on it. Apparently, the bunny changes color depending on the temperature of the drink. When Osamu asked what Atsumu had gotten, the male simply shrugged his shoulders but the butterfly pin in his pocket pokes at his skin.

The group chat with the team has signified that he’s the last one who hadn’t given his gift yet. He can’t seem to find the time to pull you aside and he can’t find the courage to waltz into your classroom looking for you.

Meet me after classes, near the garden shed.

You reread the text just to make sure that it was correct. A part of you thought maybe his text was a joke meant to leave you hanging outside in the cold but as you near, you can clearly see his tall figure. His back is to you, he’s kicking the snow on the ground, it’s freezing and you’re jogging slightly to reach him.

“Hey.”

He whips around at your voice. His nose is red, trying to hide himself in his scarf. His eyes fall to your hands, you still have the bag but you’re making sure that the side that has his name doesn’t show. His hands are dug into his pockets, he’s twirling the butterfly pin.

“Atsumu?” Your voice shakes him, your eyes wide and just waiting for him to say something, anything.

Snow begins to fall, you look up, your hand lifted to catch the snowflakes that melts immediately in your palm.

“I.” Atsumu can’t find his next words because as you look at him, his heart is pounding in his chest. His eyes are falling and he catches the faint red thread on your skirt; he was sure you had thrown the skirt out, he recalls you telling Osamu that you had ordered a new skirt, “I’m sorry.”

“Hm?” You lean in, “What?”

Atsumu’s clenching the butterfly pin. He’s remembering every moment he’s ever had with you, all the hair pulling, all the nasty words, all the dirty tricks, “I said I’m sorry.” His lips are chapped, cheeks turning red from the cold, or maybe from the way he feels his heartrate accelerating, “Okay?”

You’re confused, “Did something happen? Did you get into a fight with Osamu again?”

Osamu, Osamu, Osamu. Is that all the two of you will ever talk about? Is that the only topic of common ground that you had with him? Osamu this, Osamu that.

“No.” He presses his thumb on the hairpin, “Whatever.” He sighs, his hands are removed from his pockets, in his palm you stare at the pin, “Happy Valentine’s day loser.”

Your finger brushes against his skin and you stare with wonder at the butterfly pin you recall bawling to your parents for losing, “Where’d you find this?” You’re smiling, for the first time, you’re giving him a smile.

“It’s not really important where I found it.” It sat on his dresser for years, some days he forgot it was there, other days he stared at it when getting dressed.

You’re giggling with glee, you’re pushing the hairpin to pull back strands of your hair, it’s bright blue jewels contrast against the falling of snow. The pin rests above your ear, Atsumu stares in awe. A snowball smacks against his neck, it jolts Atsumu out of his trance and he’s alarmingly looking around.

“What are you doing?!” Osamu screams from a distance, Suna’s phone out had captured the accurate shot.

“Goddamit Samu!” Atsumu screams, the cold torturing his skin. Atsumu quickly forms a snowball, you scream when another snowball hits Atsumu’s side, it exploded and struck you as collateral.

Atsumu chucks the snowball at his brother, though he tried to run, Osamu was hit straight in the face. You let out a gasp in unison with Atsumu, Osamu is building another snowball and just as he’s about to throw, Atsumu grips you by the arms, putting you in front of him.

“Tsumu! No!” You screech.

His stomach jitters, you called him by his nickname. Osamu chucks the snowball and to protect your face, you turn in Atsumu’s hands, your fingers clinging to his jacket and you’re laughing. God, you’re laughing with him.

The snowball sends you forward, your cheek pressed against his chest, your laughter vibrates onto his skin. He’s burning, he’s hot, he’s sweating. He’s suddenly gulping, thirsty, aching to drink something. Another snowball is thrown, this time it hits him in the shoulder.

“Don’t use y/n as a shield, ya dickhead!” Osamu is approaching, this time he nears with a snowball in his hand.

You’re just realizing now that you’re exposed legs are freezing. You shiver into Atsumu briefly before pulling away from him. You escape from his grasp to skip over to Suna. You’re clinging to Suna’s arm, teeth chattering, and you watch through Suna’s phone as Osamu smacks the snowball into his brother’s face. Of course, this causes Atsumu to tackle Osamu; Suna stops the recording.

“I got like ten million videos of them rolling on the floor.”

Atsumu ruffles his hair, he’s looking in the mirror to make sure all the dirt and snow mixture is out. Osamu approaches next to him, running his hand under the water. They don’t meet gazes but as they stare into their own reflections, it was like they were looking right at each other.

“Don’t do it.” Osamu states. He’s pulled one of the paper towels, wiping his hands as he doesn’t break eye contact with his reflection, “Don’t go acting like you loved her this entire time. You treated her like shit and now suddenly you think you’re in love.”

Atsumu feels guilt build up in the pit of his stomach. Osamu leaves the bathroom, leaving Atsumu to grip onto the sink. The feeling of you pressed against his chest makes blue butterflies swirl in his abdomen. He shoves the feeling down, he tucks it into the back of his heart, he puts you on the back burner.

His cell rings, Suna’s text tells him that everyone has decided to head to the gym first. He takes the time to wipe his hands, throwing the paper towel into the trash, he spots a brown paper bag next to the door of the bathroom. His name is scribbled on the side in your handwriting.

Atsumu got cookies, a volleyball keychain with his name etched into it, and a card. He sits in the bathroom, card in between his fingers, streaks of tears down his cheek while he stuffs the cookies into his mouth.

Thank you for helping me that one day with my skirt. I was going to buy a new one but then cancelled the order since I’ll be graduating any way. I never did get to thank you so I’m doing it now.

The card continues with a different colored pen.

I love the butterfly hairpin, thank you for finding it. I hope that we can become friends.

Atsumu heavily breathes, you were so nice, for someone like him, you were incredibly nice. You were so nice his heart was clenching and somewhere in the world, blue butterflies are flapping their wings.

[death-fears-by-deaf-ears]

swan lake || t.h.

pairing: tom holland x reader

summary: you can't stand tom holland, the guy in your ballet ensemble. But when you two get the roles of Odette and the prince, you two will have to put your differences aside and learn to work with each other.

word count: 2.5k

warnings: language

chapter one

Not again.

This was starting to become a recurring theme - it was Monday and your bus had just left without you. You mumbled profanities under your breath, your duffle bag slung across your shoulder. Frustrated you slumped against a street lantern, when you felt the first drops of rain on your skin. You let out a groan of anger and pulled your hood up over your head, cursing yourself for staying up too late last night. But because you anticipated this, you had already put on your leotard and tights on at home, so when you got to class you’d only have to strip your clothes and start your warm up.

Last week you had gotten whacked on the head with a newspaper for being that late, but with a little bit of luck you wouldn’t have to endure that today.

When you arrived in the ballet studio almost an hour later you were soaked and freezing. You ran through the halls of the studio, already in the process of taking off your jacket and shirt, revealing your dancing clothes underneath. Three minutes left to go.

Your usual locker was already occupied, making you rush to the next best one, ripping the door open, throwing all your clothes in there and only taking your training ballerinas out and slamming the door shut. You had done your hair in the bus already, so it was in a low tight knot. You put your shoes on, running toward the door. One minute left.

“How kind of you to join us today on time,” Sophie, your dance teacher said, following you with her eyes as you took your position. Everyone in the room was staring at you and you could feel their looks drilling in your back. Tom next to you was bowing his head down, obviously trying to hide his laughter. You shot him a poisonous look, rage as well as embarrassment burned inside you. Tom had a special power of making your anger levels go from 0 to 100.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” you said, your face running hot.

“Let’s start with the warm up, shall we?”

“Why is everyone whispering and staring at me,” you whispered through gritted teeth to your friend Hannah, who was helping you stretch. “Ouch!”

“Loosen up,” Hannah whispered, pulling you even closer to her. You were sitting in front of each other on the floor, pushing the others’ legs out. “Haven’t you seen the role sheet today?”

“Fuck,” you whispered, partially because of the stretch, but also because you had forgotten that today the roles for the upcoming show were published. You must’ve not seen the sheet in the locker rooms. “What role did I get?”

Hannah shook her head as you pulled her towards you, adjusting her pose. “You got the role of Odette.”

You immediately let go of Hannah, slapping your hand on your mouth, making her fall forward. You grabbed her shoulders. “I got the main role?” You whisper-screamed, trying your hardest not to get caught by Sophie. “Well, who is playing the prince?”

Hannah cringed and turned her gaze to the side, where a few of your colleagues were standing. Instead of stretching they were very obviously flirting with… Tom. He must’ve noticed you staring at him, as he turned his head and met your gaze. Both of you rolled your eyes as you turned away from each other. “You can’t be serious,” you said.

“I’m sorry,” Hannah huffed, sweat pearling on her dark forehead. “But hey, congrats on the role?”

You finished stretching and continued with your training, going through forms and positions, polishing your moves and getting scolded for flailing your arms too much. As you were approaching your first break, Sophie stepped towards you.

“We will begin with your training for Swan Lake today at 3, make sure to bring your pointe shoes.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you said, your heart fluttering at the idea of dancing to your favourite show. The fluttering quickly vanished when you noticed Sophie walking up towards Tom, telling him the same. So you’d already dance with him today.

You tried to shake the bad feeling and it mostly worked, since focusing on your dream always made things easier. Dancing and performing was a way for you to let go, to get completely lost in the story and think about nothing else. There wasn’t much in the world that could ruin that for you.

Oh how wrong you had been.

“I have never seen people with less chemistry than you two,” Sophie sighed. You have never heard her be this exasperated and desperate. “Do you two even dance? Are you really professional dancers? Where did your grace go, where did the love for dance go! Look each other in the eyes for God’s sake!”

“It’d be easier if you didn’t squeeze the hell out of me,” you spat through gritted teeth.

“It’d be easier if you weren’t this heavy,” Tom spat back, his face falling immediately after he realized what he had said.

You jumped out of his grip, staring in disbelief. “Well-” you stammered, not knowing what to retort. “How about you get a little stronger…”

Sophie whacked him with her newspaper over the head. “That is NOT something you say to a lady!” Tiny strands of hair were escaping her neat bun, making her look even more stressed than she was. “We’re finishing this part today and then you two can go home.”

“Sorry,” Tom mumbled under his breath.

“Save it,” you said, taking your start position. Kneeling down on the floor, Odette would wait for the prince to come and lift her up to start the dance with her. In the original the two would fall in love the minute they laid eyes on each other. You tried to do the choreography justice, although your dance partner made it incredibly difficult for you.

“Smile!” Sophie shouted, making you two put on fake plastic grins.

“I’ll spit on your face on stage,” you said through your grin as Tom lifted you up, making you look down on him.

"Do that and I'll rip your lashes off," he said softly while lowering you on the ground again.

You tried to continue the choreography without any incidents but you couldn't help but feel every step, every nudge to be executed with a hint of passive aggression. Tom basically let you fall on the ground instead of putting you down, you avoided each other's eyes, grabbed too harshly, turned too sharply.

"Alright," Sophie said after about four hours of it. "I can't watch this any longer. You both know the choreography, and that's all I can teach you for now. If you don't know how to be nice to each other, don't bother coming to me for help until you do. We'll work on the solos and the other dances first, until you two calmed down. Dismissed."

You slumped down on the floor, rubbing your face. You untied your shoes and took them off, throwing them in your bag. This was going to be hard.

“So how was it?” Hannah asked while the two of you sat on the studio floor.

As an answer you slammed your pointe shoes on the ground several times, breaking them in a way that made them comfortable for your foot. “Take a wild guess.”

She raised her eyebrows as she was sewing the elastic band into her shoe. “What did Sophie say?”

“She refuses to work with us anymore until we get it together,” you grumbled. You slammed your fist on the top of your shoe, softening the box. Suddenly the door opened, making you and Hannah turn your heads.

Tom was marching in the room, directly towards you.

“What the hell,” you mumbled, putting your shoe down and looking up at him as he stopped in front of you. “Can I help you?”

“Are you free today after class?”

You raised an eyebrow, looking at him up and down and smirked. “Are you asking me out?”

Tom crossed his arms, not saying anything. His foot was tapping impatiently on the floor which was tiled with dancing tiles.

“Yeah, I am. See you then,” you said, rolling your eyes. You waved as a good bye, signalling him to leave you alone. You turned to Hannah. “He told me I was too heavy to lift.” “Excuse me?” You shrugged, taking the thread and the needle. Your friend slapped her hands on her thighs in exasperation. “What an ass.”

You finished sewing and breaking in your shoes while talking about anything other than Tom - mostly Hannah’s new date she was going to see that very day. It was nice talking about something else, preparing yourself for class. You could feel that today was going to be a slow one - you eased into your shoes, then into your stretches, and finally into your training, testing out the waters with your new footwear and getting more comfortable as the day progressed. Your mind was empty, completely free of oppressive and depressing thoughts. Your body moved in unison with the music, following the tides of the melody, back and forth seemingly weightless and freed of gravity.

Before you knew it afternoon rolled around and class finished. You packed your stuff, and settled down in the locker room to have some lunch and lie down, coming down from your training.

As always your lunch break went by way too fast. You stood up, shaking your limbs and grabbing your things to go back to the now empty studio. Tom was nowhere to be found, so you warmed quickly up on your own. Your body had cooled down a bit, and you didn’t want to pull a muscle or something, so you did a few squats, jumping jacks and push ups to get moving again. You took your position at the railing in front of the mirror, practicing positions and movements, taking your sweet time. The clock ticked in the back of the room, showing 3.16pm. Where the hell was Tom?

At that moment the door swung open.

“Took you long enough,” you said in an arabesque pose.

“Sorry,” he said, getting in and throwing his duffle bag in the corner of the room.

You put your foot down, looking at him properly. You raised your eyebrows at his childish demeanor. You were already annoyed by him. “Bad day?”

He plonked down on the floor and began to put on his shoes. “I just want this day to be over.”

“Well then cheer up, do you expect me to dance with an energy as bad as yours?”

He looked at you incredulously. “Can’t I be in a bad mood? Do I have to be all sunshine and daisies all the time?” His voice rose now, making you back away a little, but you weren’t having none of that. You had an idea.

“I just said to lose the fucking attitude,” you said, getting louder now as well.

“What if i don’t want to?! God, you’re annoying!”

You took a deep breath putting force in your voice. “Then scream it out, because I don’t want to deal with this!” His hands turned into fists, his eyes lighting up a tiny little bit at the memory your words just triggered. But he was still angry. “Fuck you!”

“No, fuck YOU!”

And without a cue you two just started wordlessly screaming in the other’s face, a prolonged and agonizing scream, throwing it all out. Dancing didn’t require vocal chords, so you had no qualms absolutely shredding yours. You didn’t know if anyone else was in the building, but you didn’t care.

As you two ran out of breath your shoulders slumped, moving heavily up and down as you gasped for air. The room was awfully quiet except for your breathing. Your bodies seemed to mirror each other, more in sync than when you tried to be. Destruction seemed to be more constructive to the relationship between you two than anything else.

You swallowed, standing up straight. “Can we start now?”

Again you were on the floor, folded over in your starting position. You had decided to train without music, so you jumped a little as Tom’s hands touched your wrists, softer than usual. He lifted you up off the floor, placing his hands on your waist. This dance wasn’t particularly difficult or demanding, but for it to work you need a prince who guides Odette just enough without gripping her too tight, and an Odette who knows how much to rely on the prince and how much on herself. There were a few hang ups here and there, but you danced through the whole routine without saying anything once, enjoying the flow of your movements. The dance was still clinical, mostly about getting the order of the moves right. It ended with Tom lifting you up, and slowly lowering you down, and bringing your faces together, hinting at a kiss between you two. You still needed to work on that part.

“So,” he said as you jumped away as the dance ended. “With music this time?”

You nodded. “Maybe don’t grip me this tight when I do the pirouettes,” you said. You took a sip of water and put the bottle away. “I can basically do them on my own, just give me a quick spin and I’ll be able to do them faster.”

“Alright,” he said, getting into position. “But try to do your moves independently from me. It’ll make them look better.”

You folded over on the floor and waited for the music to start. When it started you closed your eyes for a second anticipating the touch on your wrists. Still it sent a jolt through you. “Softer,” you said as you did your pirouette, and the grip on your waist turned to a fleeting touch every few moments, accelerating your turns.

“Lean in properly,” Tom said as you leaned in his hands to the side to lift your leg. You did as told and managed to lift your leg even higher and with less effort. He lifted you by the waist, brows furrowed the slightest in concentration, turning in a circle. Your hands rested on his shoulders, eyes trained on him. You wondered if Odette really fell in love with the prince on sight.

The routine went smoother with each time you tried it, your movements dynamic and easy like a well oiled machine.

After a while you decided to call it a day, and after you awkwardly said your goodbyes, you went home. Suddenly you didn’t know how to act around him, everything you did felt clumsy and weird. You were used to being annoyed by him and just being generally mad at him. But now that you had to cooperate and put those things aside, what was left?

a.n.: this is the first chapter of maybe two or three, lmk what you think! this is the first time i post to tungle, be kind lmfao

[20dollarlolita]

The guide to re-upholstering your office chair while you're at work at the sewing machine store.

You can generally do a full office chair cover in 2/3rds of a yard of fabric (with or without nap), so hit up your former craft store job's remnant section, since you don't have your employee discount anymore.

If you have access to a huge collection of top-of-the-line sewing machines, you can make a nice chair cover embroidery on the HV Designer Epic with the Majestic Hoop and not need to re-hoop halfway through. If you're doing this on your own time, however, and had to spend that eighteen point five grand on, you know, a car and rent and food, because you make barely minimum wage at a sewing machine store and can't actually afford anything that you sell, you can find some lovely patterned fabric and have a chair cover that's just as nice.

Using pins (if you have them) or staples from your office stapler to shape the fabric around the back of the chair, so that it's smooth on the front and there's no wrinkles on the front. You can pin/staple directly into the cushion of the chair. Take your time with this and make the front look good.

Also make sure that your design is centered on the front. Don't do this entire step and then realize that you never centered it and have to redo the whole thing.

Now, grab yourself a hand sewing needle and some thick thread (I just used four threads of this spool of hand quilting thread that for some reason floats around the store) and run a big running stitch around the entire edge of the fabric.

Important: your goal here is to ease the fabric around the whole cushion without making any creases or big folds. You don't want to be tacking any pleats down. You can see how I have some big fabric folds near the edge of my fabric, but the part that's on the cushion is almost smooth.

(yes, this is a cropped version of the picture above)

Grab a pen (ideally one that evaporates away) and mark where the fabric crosses the edge of the plastic back plate. It's easiest to do this in a series of dots.

You want it so that when you cut the fabric off, your cover will cover up all of the chair's cushion fabric, but doesn't overlap the plastic back plate.

Grab whatever elastic is also floating around the store for hell knows what reason, and start sewing it down. If you've ever done a connect-the-dots puzzle, you'll know how to do this. Sink your needle into the fabric and elastic at your first dot, and then stretch the elastic to its absolute max and sew it down along your line of dots.

Setting the machine to a very narrow zig zag (1.5mm if you want to be specific) because it's a little bit easier to keep all your stitches on the elastic. If you're off by a little, the zig zag will still usually hit your elastic, so you don't have big rows of skipped stitches.

When you go over and put the cover back on your chair, it should fit nice and pretty. The elastic should hug the plastic backing plate, but cover all the chair's original cushion fabric. Now, you just need to get rid of the extra fabric.

I have access to a serger that's only $1,399 so I just did a 4-thread overlock around the entire piece, letting the serger cut off the edges. If you don't have an overlocker, you can cut off the edge and do something like binding the edge with a tape or ribbon, or just picking a fabric that won't fray and leaving it raw.

If you want, you can pull out your gathering running stitches if you think they're ugly. I pulled out the visible ones on the top and left the ones on the bottom.

There's a little elastic tail down there that I added to tie the cover to the chair. That tie is largely decorative and mostly useless. It exists so that people can see "oh, yes, there's a cover here." The bow is also knotted in place, because if there's a bow, someone will try to untie it.

There's also a very large tacking stitch at the top, bottom, and each side. These are sewn directly into the chair cushion, and they serve two purposes. First, it keeps the cover spread nice and tight so that the embroidery looks good. Second, it stops people from freaking stealing it because some people just go into a high-end sewing machine store and then decide to steal the chair cover for no reason . Like ma'am. Ma'am. You just signed up for financing and we have your social security number and your home address so can you PLEASE not shoplift our display models directly in front of my face??

Anyway, the embroidery doesn't photograph super well, but here it is with some contrast adjustments.

[lil-blueee]

Redamancy | Takashi Mitsuya x Reader (Tokyo Revengers)

Redamancy (n.): The act of loving the one who loves you; a love returned in full.

Treasure the time you spend together,

Treasure the ride in the evening time,

Treasure the confession under the night sky.

May you all feel the love and fall in love!

____________________

It is now eventide, the moment when the Sun deliberately goes down, exuding its vibrant red and orange rays that tints the former azure firmament. And here you are, resting on the leather chesterfield sofa while gazing at those skylights above. Broken lines of cumulus, or cotton-like clouds, are stretching for miles in the air, reflecting those fiery shades that intensifies the whole scene's saturation.

"Beautiful." You mumble, eyes lingering at that exquisite sight.

It doesn't take that long for a pitch black color to invade the sky, noticing that dusk is coming to your city. You raise up both arms to stretch that stiff upper body before a small growl grabs your attention. Looking at the clock, it's a quarter past six already.

"Guess he'll come back late tonight. I've to eat alone then."

You place your right hand on your stomach to feel that small rumbling sound - a signal for dinner time. The corners of your lips pull down to reveal a sad but so-be-it face. "Well, time to eat." You reheat the bento box in the microwave and prepare a glass of water before bringing them both to the table. Hands clasp together, you mumble, "Itadakimasu."

After finishing your meal, you sip a cup of warm tea while walking towards the bust mannequin, where the sleeveless white bridal gown is put on. Four different length of layers were sew from the waist line, covering half of the chapel train - the last and longest layer of the dress. To break free from the usual, monotonous gown, that man thoroughly embroidered roses on the left lateral, artfully arranged those small flowers from the shoulder to the side of the waist, and bigger ones when reaching the end of the train.

There's only one more piece left to complete the dress, a wedding veil. And it's also the final task for you - the girl making a messy bun for her wavy silver hair with apparent black highlights. Heading to the table where the folded tulle fabric is laying, you put the tea cup down, left hand slowly grabs your pair of black eyeglasses beside it. Eyes giving a quick glance at those thin lines drawn by tailor's chalk, you take one deep breath, ignoring some strains of hair falling down on the side and hold the sharp piece of scissors. After all, this dress is made for Hinata Tachibana, one of your best friends. I can't screw it.

You slowly cut off the excess length of the tulle until those metal blades return to their starting point, making the cabbage falls down the ground. Your other hand holds the outside edge of the fabric to trim its corners slightly, adding the curve for a graceful look. "Now then," A delighted smile appears on your face. Your sparkling gaze is looking through the edge of the veil again to see any jagged or uneven fabric needs cutting.

Immersing yourself in your work, you don't even recognize the presence of another man at the entrance, crossing his arms on one another. His head leans against the door frame, looking at you with those adoring droopy lavender eyes. "Quite meticulous, aren't you?" The lilac-haired mumbles, giving his compliment before he turns around and walks along the hall.

After that final touch, you sigh in relief, gently using your left hand surface to mop the sweat from your brow. "All we need to do is sew it. I should wait for Taka—" You startle. Whatever touches against your cheek literally makes your heart jump because of the cold sensation.

"What in the—" Like a natural reflex, you turn your head around to search for the source, but that sixth sense of yours can somehow guess the person standing behind this.

"You call for me?" He asks in a soft tone voice. In front of you right now is Takashi Mitsuya, a gentleman in his dark grey suit layered with a black shin length trench coat, projecting his professional image which instantly forms the first impression to anyone he meets. Hand passes you a bottle of water, the lilac-haired chuckles at the face he saw.

You keep staring at him, your eyebrows pull closer together while your lips tighten, making an angry but quite adorable face in his opinion. As you're about to give him a piece of your mind, his genuine smile immediately blows your anger away. That gentleman appearance, combining with his somewhat irresistible face are like a deadly combo suppressing your anger. How can I get mad like this? Placing your palm on the forehead, you ask yourself before telling him,

"You can just give it normal—"

Hold up! You pause when a thought runs through your mind and interrupts your speech. An idea? No, more like a revenge! Lower your face while smirking devilishly, one side of his slit eyebrow lifts up as he wonders what has got into you until...

"Actually, thank you very much, Takashi."

Calling for his name in a mischievous voice, you raise your slender hand not to take that bottle but to gently grab the other big, masculine one. Eyes lock with the others droopy lavender, you smile innocently as a way to express your affection toward him.

It doesn't take that long for the Second Division Captain to realize your intention. Instead of questioning about your rapid change in behavior, the lilac-haired decides to go along with your act. [First name]-chan, you're no match for me. His surprised face soon reveals a smirk, taking his time to respond you.

"My my~ you really mean it, [First name]?" said Mitsuya in a low tone voice.

He takes a few steps toward while you're doing the opposite, walking backward till your body hits the table without noticing. You startle but your attention is still drawn to his hand pulling the tie knot side to side to loosen that black plain necktie. This soon piques your curiosity. Is it because of the heat or he's doing it on purpose? However, judging the look on his face, you have every reason to eliminate the former assumption. Actually, no one will argue once they meet his sharp, yet flirtatious glance trying to lure you in his sweet trap. The gap is now shortened to only a few centimeters apart, Mitsuya rests both of his hands on the table to trap you inside then leans his lips closer to your reddened ear.

"Or you're asking for something else?" He whispers, sending shivers down your spine.

A flush of excitement is rising to your cheek, but you - my friend, show no signal of being dominated. In spite of the wild beating heart in your chest, you naturally grabs his tie and pulls it closer, looking straight into that man's eyes. "Make a guess."

Now you've done it. That confident expression of yours finally pulls the trigger for a massive explosion in his heart. It's not really something unexpected, but the Captain can't help himself whenever he sees you like this. The lilac-haired signs, looking down the ground to hide his defeated face. But, things won't end that easy.

"Alright, you said it. But," Unveiling a devilish smirk, his left hand wraps around your waist and gives a sudden pull, making your eyes widen from his unexpected move, "don't mad at me afterward."

The other hand is gently placing on your cheek before his thumb touches your lips. He's not gonna... There are butterflies in your stomach as you realize his intention, but sadly, it's too late to escape by now. Feeling his head is leaning closer, you place both hands on his chest to try and stop him though his body doesn't move a single bit. Hold up, hold up, hold up!!! Too close!

"Takashi, wait—" Your eyes shut immediately, knowing what he's about to do.  

Mitsuya pauses when his lips are only a few centimeters away. That man is taking a glance at your heavily blushing face and secretly smiling to see this shy and nervous side of yours. Oh my, now I'm the meanie. He signs. Well then...

Soft. Something touches the tip your nose - a light kiss, as light as a feather. As your mind is still trying to comprehend the whole thing, his giggle soon gets you back to your senses.

"I'm just joking! You don't have to worry!" You open your eyes and freeze like a statue. Noticing how tense up you are, his hand gently caresses your cheek where the heat is still lingering around. "Did I scare you, [First name]-chan?"

You know the answer, don't you? Well, he did surprise you in a way but... why not let him guess a little longer? "Who would?" You mumble.

"Really? Shall we try again the—"

Like an instinct, your palm covers his lower face as you know he won't leave you time to answer.

"Not so fast. I won't be tricked again." You smile cheerfully because this time for sure, victory is in your hand. However, life rarely happens according to your plans, and especially when you are with him.

His gaze sharpens and that makes you think twice about your action. Just when you're about to let your hand down, the lavender-eyed holds it in position and gives your palm a kiss. You raise your eyebrows and are completely shocked at his gesture. Mitsuya gently places your hand in his palm, bowing down like a gentleman greets a lady before his lips touch your knuckles. This greeting gesture, hand-kissing, normally indicates courtesy and politeness but not in this case scenario. 

"Are you sure about that, my Muse?" He asks with a mischievous smile.

And the Cupid - the god of love in the Ancient Roman, shots his arrow right through your heart, again. Love and passion are spreading out from your wound, making you fall for this man for... how many times you have lost count to be honest. The only difference is that you sink deeper and deeper every time the Cupid has his decision.

"So now you're into role play just simply because of the suit? And what Muse would wear a white tube top with grey sweatpants like me?" You chortle.

"Well, doing it once in a while isn't so bad though." He answers. "And you're always beautiful no matter what you wear."

That makes your heart skip a beat. He always says what in his mind, even if you're ready for it or not. "You sure are good with words." Whispering softly, you don't know what to do but to smile happily like a child.

"Anyway, how was the meeting with your customers?" You ask.

"The good news is we have a big order coming up. It's for their wedding and they chose the design already. One mermaid wedding dress and a tuxedo. We have to make five dresses for the bridesmaids too, so it's gonna be a busy week."

"Oh no, it's not that much... Lemme fainted a little." Without waiting him to respond, you let your head fall down on his shoulder, creating a big "thump" sound in the ears. The Captain is trying hard not to laugh by now. He gently pats that heavy head of yours.

"But still, I'll try my best to help. Can't let my beloved handle everything, right?" There you go, being mischievous again.

Wish you could see his face at that time. It was the most happiest face in the world. He wraps you in his arms for a full, warm embrace. "And I don't want my Muse to be exhausted too."

"But we'll put that aside for now. Wanna go for a ride? It must be bored to spend your whole day in the workshop."

Your eyes wide open to hear his suggestion. How long has it been since the last ride you guys had with each other? You're obviously happy to hear that but you're quite concerned about his health. "Maybe you should rest for today, you must be tired already."

"It's okay. I need to refresh my mind a bit. Lemme get change real quick." He gives you a light pat on your head.

Standing in front of the garage, you're gazing at Mitsuya, who is wearing an energetic set of cloth, opposite to the formal style earlier. He layers his white tee with a loose black baseball jacket with cream leather sleeves. This jacket was you two first couple cloth, and it was made by you-know-who. For the bottom, he puts on grey sweatpants and a pair of sneakers.

Your man is taking his baby Impulse out. The lavender-eyed is looking for something, your helmet. He slowly puts it on for you to ensure your safety while you sit behind him.

"Hold on tight." No matter how many times he has taken you out, that sentence always comes up first like a habit. Yes, you understand clearly that he cares about you, but seeing him like this somehow makes you want to tease him.  

"Come on! It's not like my first time letting my boyfriend take me for a ride~" Leaning your body closer to his back, you slowly give that muscular body a hug from behind. The lilac-haired sighs, lowers his head before turning around.

"And it's not like my first time saying this to my girlfriend." He responds while gives you a light flick on your forehead. "I just want to make sure you'll feel safe."

You release your hands to touch the spot where he aimed. Knitting your eyebrows, you ask. "Alright, but do you have to give me a flick?"

"Cause I feel like it." Now your nose is being pinched. Right after when you try to react, Mitsuya grabs your hands and puts them around his waist again. "Alright, no more teasing. We'll be back late if we don't leave now."

You actively tighten your arms so that someone won't give a long lecture again. "Fine, baka Taka."

"That's my girl." Closing his eyes, those lips reveal a winsome smile before his black full face helmet covers it. Once everything is set, he starts the engine and drive you both to the main road.

Resting your head on his firm back, your eyes slowly observe the night life in the city, looking at those cars running on the road and how people spend the rest of their night. Every time the winds blow through your hair, they always give a sense of relaxation, relieving all the stress you have during those working hours.

You breathe out bit by bit, tighten your embrace without noticing, which is a good sign for the person sitting in front of you. Glad she's enjoying this. The lilac-haired chuckles in secret, feels glad at your reaction.

Fifteen minutes have passed by, you two leave the city center, driving on a deserted road that leads to an abandon outdoor parking space overlooking the city's view. This is his go-to place whenever he seeks for the tranquility and now, it's yours too. Mitsuya drives right to the spot where you can observe the mesmerizing scene below and parks his Impulse.

Arms in the air, you stand up and stretch your back after spending nearly the whole day in his workshop, helping him to finish the wedding dress on time. Turn your head around to look at the man sitting side saddle, you ask. "Just three days left. We'll finish Hina-chan dress before it, right?"

"Yeah, I only need to sew the veil and adjust the length of the dress a bit." Mitsuya responds before gazing at you with a delighted face. "It all thanks to your help! Your skills have improved a lot after two months."

"Really? Guess I have to thank someone being patient while teaching me too~" Your mind then recalls how many times he sighed and flicked your forehead when you messed up during your practice. Despite of that, your caring teacher always there to explain and demonstrate again and again. Also, you can't forget the times you injured yourself because of your clumsiness, and he was always there to help you. Those are the memories that you're always cherish.

"I'll still be in your care, Sensei~" You giggle.

Sitting beside the man you love, you lean your head on his shoulder while getting lost in thought. 12 years huh... They finally make it. The fact that Hanagaki could travel back in time is always unbelievable because to you, it's something that only appears in sci-fi movies. You're really grateful that he tries to save everyone even if he has to risk his life. Not knowing what the future may hold, every moment staying with Mitsuya just becomes precious and you truly appreciate it.

Hina-chan finally escapes from the Death, now they're about to engage. "I'm glad for them."

Hearing your mumble, his left arm, which wrapped around your waist, moves its way up to pat your head. Those fingers that he uses to design beautiful clothes are now gently stroking your hair.

"What're you thinking about?" He asks out of curiosity.

"I was thinking..." After a few seconds of consideration, you say something out of the blue "when will I become a bride?"

From your unexpected answer, Mitsuya completely freezes. His astonished face with raised eyebrows and wide-opened lavender eyes is fully drawn to you. Looks like someone's heart just skips a beat. You really are...

Not seeing the Captain react, you ask him with concern. "Taka— Wh—what???"

As you're about to lift your head up, his hand quickly covers your eyes, pressing it down to the old position. You're wondering what the heck is going, not knowing Mitsuya is facing the other direction, hands cover his face. He's making time for the blush to fade away but it's impossible when you're struggling like this. 

"Stay still for awhile, will you?" A long sigh escapes from his lips when you're trying to pull his hand off.

After realizing how physically strong he is, you finally surrender. "Fine, I give up."

The atmosphere go into silent, no one has opened up first because you're waiting for him, and your boyfriend? He's still trying to calm himself down. Once Mitsuya gets back to his cool, usual shelf, he removes his hand to reveal your sound sleeping face.

"[First name]-chan?" He whispers.

Oh... She must be exhausted. Caressing your cheek before moving to your ear, his mind suddenly recalls your words. The Captain tries to move his other hand without waking you up, manages to take something out of his pocket. He then remains silent, eyes are focusing that small box lying in the palm of his right hand. "A bride, you said..."

His thumb opens the box, staring at the thing placing in the middle. For some reasons, your man hesitates before taking out the circle object, raising it up to the night sky and gazing deeply.

"You should fall for someone else." He mumbles.

"That's what I said when you confessed your feelings. But you, you still stay around after everything we went through, after knowing my background." Mitsuya pinches your cheek lightly because he doesn't want to interrupt your sleep.

"How stubborn you are."

You can feel something touch your face but only make an annoyed expression like a reflex.

"You always talk to me, run toward me whenever I'm around, and even learn how to sew. And just like that, I get familiar with your presence in my life."

"I used to think if you were in love with someone else, I would be rooting for you and make sure you find a good guy. But right now, I don't think I can let you go—— No, more like I won't let you go this time."

His hand puts something on your right ear. It's his other signature piercing - a black huggie earring with silver crosses.

"One for me, one for my most important person. Hope you won't laugh at my childish thought, I was young and bold." He chuckles at his own thought.

"I'm not ready to be your spouse yet, not when I'm still struggling with financial issues. I don't want my love to struggle it with me."

"Just a little more, will you wait for me, [First name]-chan?"

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

I want italyrry to RAIL ME well actually any Harry but especially italyrry in that tank top after his run like sir please TAKE ME

Can you imagine him walking through the door of your rented villa all breathless and sweaty, setting the keys down in the small ceramic bowl near the entrance and carefully removing his earbuds, putting them in their container and setting them down beside the platter.

You can hear him treading down the corridor that leads from the front door to the kitchen, his footsteps echoing lightly against the cement and porcelain tiles, his sharp exhales of exertion unmistakable.

You retrieve a water bottle from the fridge and dampened a cloth under some cool running water, drifting over to him as soon as he crosses the archway into the room.

His voice is wispy and raspy, throat barren and lips slightly chapped, but he gives you a weak smile nonetheless. “Hey, baby.”

“Hi, trucker.” You quip playfully, removing his crude cap off his head and tossing it onto the counter, ruffling his matted hair to air out some heat.

“It was a gift from Jeff!” Harry exclaims defensively, a grin toying at the edges of his flushed lips. “Would be mean to throw it in the bin.”

“Mmhm.” You plop the water bottle into his awaiting hand, combing stringy curls away from his forehead as you reach up to gently drag the wet towelette across his ticking jaw and down his flexing neck.

Harry unscrews the cap of the drink with a faint crack, shrugging his brows nonchalantly as he tips it back, taking large gulps. His lashes flutter at the sensation of the chilled water running over his dry tongue and parched throat, humming softly in appreciation. You wipe across his defined collarbones and along his temples, ducking under the thin straps of his muscle tank to get across his shoulders.

He can see you trying to keep a straight face, which results in a light smirk coaxing his dimples into place, the corners of his mouth ticking upwards around the rim of his beverage.

Harry draws the water bottle away, twisting it shut to set it down as he leans his forearm onto the edge of the kitchen island, biceps rippling and pectorals heaving. You carefully fold the cloth over and start scrubbing behind his ears, trying to ignore the way he’s eyeing you smugly over the crests of his colored cheeks, blushing nose sniffling lightly in a cheeky manner. You can’t help notice that his skin is tinged the exact same shade of cherry red from the night before, when he’d worked up at sweat for a very different reason.    

“Think you can get my chest and back next?” He murmurs lowly, bottom lip strung between his teeth to keep in an arrogant chuckle.

Your gaze momentarily flickers to his, heat pouring into your face as he blinks at you all sultry, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging it. “Sure. Shirt off.”

Harry grabs onto the back of his collar, hauling the grey Nike tank over his head, tanned muscles contracting and expanding with his movements. He drops the crumbled top onto the table, taking a slow step forward so you can have extended range across his body. His tone is dripping with condescending amusement. “Thanks, darling.”

You clear your throat lightly, rubbing the towel over his chest as he had requested, feeling it stutter beneath your touch. You swipe over his stomach, watching the way his butterfly tattoo expands with his gradual breaths, tummy twitching and abdomen tightening. The warmth in your cheeks rises in intensity.

“Turn around.” You murmur, glancing up at him from beneath your thick eyelashes, well aware that if you were to look at his cocky expression directly, he’d immediately be able to tell how easily he’s playing you.  

After an elongated pause, Harry obliges, spinning around slowly on his heel. You have to bite down onto your tongue to keep from making a noise.

His broad back just looks so fucking tempting, covered in a thin sheet of shiny sweat, rising and falling with his deep breaths. His tendons are taunt under his sun-kissed skin and the second you set the cold cloth onto it, his entire spine shudders under your palms, a hiss streaming through the crack in his teeth.

Harry’s deep voice comes out thick and barely sheepish. “Sorry. Felt good.”

You somehow manage to keep your response steady. “S’fine.”

You begin to work the towel over the extent of his back, cleaning up the stickiness leftover from his jog. Halfway through, he cranes his neck to look over his shoulder, a sly simper obvious across his lips as he gifts you a lingering once-over.

You raise your eyebrows at him in a silent question, halting your actions.

“Give me a kiss.”

Your eyes go half-lidded, tone humorously flat. “You’re sweaty and gross. Let me finish this and then maybe you’ll get one.”  

“If I wanted one later, I would’ve asked later.” He snaps with a joking edge, turning to once again face you fully, your hands falling away from his back. “I want one now.”

“I’m not going to kiss you right now, you smell like a dirty gym sock.”

Harry wraps his long fingers around your wrist, tender yet firm, tugging you closer until his bare chest presses against your clothed own. His words come out as a rumbling whisper. “You didn’t have a problem kissing down my sweaty chest last night.”

Your cheeks feel like they’ve been set aflame. “That was different.”

Harry lists his head to the side, the gold specks around his pupils dancing coyly in the sunlight that filters through the open balcony doors of the villa, his chestnut ringlets swaying in the faint draft. “How so?”

You open your mouth to answer, only to realize he’s stumped you. There’s truly no difference— no solid rationalization, and he knows that. He just wants to see you fidget.

After a few more seconds of rummaging your brain for an acceptable answer, you gradually shut your jaw in defeat.

“That’s what I thought.” Harry scoffs, left hand finding its way onto the curve of your neck, lips jolting when he feels your pulse spike under his palm. His other hand coasts onto your hip, squeezing jestingly and yanking you further into his body. “Just one, yeah? Missed you while I was away. You’re not gonna leave your poor, lovesick boyfriend hanging, are you?”

The exaggerated puppy eyes and blubbering pout he puts on causes your eyes to roll up towards the ceiling. “Dumbass.”

Harry releases a boyish giggle that makes your stomach knot. “You can call me all the names you want as long as you kiss it better.”  

“Moron.”

“Sure.”

You slowly teeter forward onto your tippy toes, reaching up towards his face. “Idiot.”

An entertained grin buckles his splotchy cheeks. ��Absolutely.”

You bump the tip of your nose against his chin, quirking a single brow up at him suggestively. “Asshole.”

His gaze falters from your own to your mouth, tongue peeking out to lick at his itching lips, eyes hungry. “Ouch.”

You ghost your cupid’s bow over his own, the breath of your words burning his skin. “Prick.”

“Okay, that one stung.”

You snort yourself into a round of airy laughter and he mirrors the gesture, leaning down to finally button your mouths together. Your shared giggles make the kiss messy and fun, his mustache and beard prickly in the best way imaginable. He tucks his thumb underneath your jaw, using it to tilt your chin higher to get a better angle, the digit then running gently across the slope of the structure. A hot glow swells in your chest at the action, your hands instinctively wrapping around his strong, bare shoulders, his flesh still slightly tacky from the drying sweat.

The hand resting on your waist drifts over the dip of your spine, his forearm then completely tying around the small of your back. He maneuvers you until you’re pressed against the edge of the kitchen island, wedged between the front of his thick thighs and the marble counter. He peels away from your eager mouth, pasting sloppy pecks down your throat, the thick hair across his face leaving a small rash in its wake. You card your fingers into the baby curls along the nape of his neck, spinning them around your knuckles, easing out a soft groan on his behalf that pools along the crook of your jugular .

You scratch at his scalp, his shoulders giving a swift shiver as a result, his next sentence garbled and almost drunk. “Going on this run was a great idea.”

You tug at his curls until his mouth is once again level with yours, sewing them together and grinning into the desperate kiss. You lick along his upper lip, jumping a tad when he teasingly bites into your bottom one. “Maybe it was.”

A minute or so goes by, full of more needy suckling and rough nipping, and then Harry breaks away for air. He poses his damp forehead to yours, the jade in his eyes electric with newfound energy, voice a low and heavy croak.

“Why don’t you come take a shower with me, hm? You can help me clean up the mess I’m about to make.”  

[agentcalliope]

Azula and Hakoda headcanons post-Azula's healing? *eyes emoji* (I don't mean to make every ask abt Hakoda, but I am trying to be thought-provoking.)

They all offer to come, so she wouldn’t have to do it alone. None of them did it, alone, they say. They all had each other.

She knows that, of course. Aang, Katara and Sokka. Zuko, Toph and Suki. She wasn’t there, for theirs, but they’re all here for hers. Just that is enough. Azula’s been practicing for so long that she’s perfect, and that’s not a lie.

 Besides— she won’t be alone, not really.

And so, Hakoda takes Azula ice dodging. The others watch from the shoreline, their figures becoming smaller and smaller until they disappear. It’s just the two of them, Hakoda and Azula, on the cutter sailing ship. The wind whipping at their faces. The sky so, so blue above. Hakoda sits on the deck and sways with the turns and twists as Azula steers, secures the mainsail, and controls the jib. He is calm. She is calm. They both know she is prepared. And when it is over— face red, top knot undone, sweating profusely, breathing heavily, heart pounding, muscles aching— she stands with her shoulders back and head high as Hakoda dips his fingers into black paint and draws it across her forehead. He asks the spirits to bear witness. Azula holds her breath.

She earns the mark of the Trusted.

This? This is not how it began.

Hakoda first hears about Azula through Katara. Knew about her before, of course. The favored heir of Fire Lord Ozai. The prodigy. The weapon. Hakoda holds his daughter close to his chest and squeezes his eyes shut, listening to her breathe Tui and La and she’s alive thank you thank you. Katara tells him about the Agni Kai— Herself. Zuko.  Azula. The haunting, agonizing screams. The tears. All Hakoda can think, thanking every spirit out there that Sokka and Katara are alive and okay, is that this girl has tried to kill his children, all these children, over and over again. He cannot forget. He will not forgive.

But she is a child herself, isn’t she? Hakoda sits on the couch, his children leaning against him. Sokka’s on his right and Katara’s on his left. He glances over at Sokka and tucks a strand of hair behind his boy’s ear. Looks over at Katara and watches her eyelids flutter. She murmurs in her sleep and nestles against him. Just children.

Just a child.

Hakoda knows that children are molded and shaped and made by war. 

And their mothers. 

And their fathers.

Hakoda thinks about Zuko. Fire Lord Zuko. His children whisper when they think he can’t hear. They talk about the Fire Lord. Not Zuko. Zuko keeps visiting him, although it hurts. You can see it in his eyes. I don’t understand. He visits Azula, too. He’s really trying with her. He’s trying so hard.

Dad would never pit us against each other like that. Dad would never hurt us like that.

Here, is a boy with a mark on his face in the shape of a hand. A boy with a sister who was believed to be perfect in every way that he was not. Was loved by their father, when he was not.

Here, is a girl with blue at her fingertips and believed she was perfect and loved until she wasn’t.

And she screamed and cried and broke.

 It’s… sad. Hakoda realizes. It’s just. Really, really sad.

 He pulls his children closer.

(Hakoda takes Zuko ice dodging. Takes Toph and Suki, too. His children and Aang and Bato and Iroh cheer from the shore, and the smiles on all their faces feels warm enough to melt all the snow and ice in the South Pole.)

 (He listens to Katara talk about how Azula apologized to Aang about what happened in Ba Sing Se.  Hakoda hears from Sokka that Azula’s living back in the palace, which so far, hasn’t been reduced to ashes. She is trying, they say. She is trying so hard.)

Azula is smaller than he had expected her to be.

Zuko has a hand on her back as he introduces them, and she extends the Flame and bows slightly. Hakoda bows back.

“It’s good to meet you, Chief Hakoda of the Southern Water Tribe.” She says.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Princess Azula.” He replies.

She sees Chief Hakoda many times after that. She hasn’t spoken to him since Zuko introduced them, that first time. Why would she? Why would he?

 Once, at dinner, Katara jokes with him. No, taunts him. Azula grips the table and waits for his anger and frustration. Instead, he laughs.

 Once, Sokka’s losing to Zuko as they practice with blades. Azula stares at Sokka, and then his father. Waits for his displeasure and disappointment. He cups his hands around his mouth, and shouts Go Sokka!

 She is learning, and unlearning. This father is... a lesson. He is fascinating.

The man who is chief, who is the father of Katara and Sokka, watches Azula as she practices her katas in the garden. She swallows a biting remark and takes a deep breath, extending her arms and shifting her weight to her front leg. Exhales. Continues on as he leans against a pillar and folds his arms. Slowly, eventually, Azula realizes that she’s okay with this. She doesn’t feel uncomfortable. Or uneasy. It doesn’t feel the way Ozai used to watch her as she flawlessly performed— and she would feel perfect and powerful.

When she finishes, Chief Hakoda waits for her to walk over to him.

She does, and then she, too, waits.

“What do you know about ice dodging?”

She travels to the South Pole with Uncle and the chief. 

She’s not sure blue’s a good look on her. It makes her amber eyes look harsh. The people are wary of her, and she understands why. The children hide behind their parents. Of course she understands. The grandmother cooks her food and sews her furs but does so with tight, pressed lips. Of course she understands. It would be hard not to.

Azula spends her days shivering on the ice and sweating on the cutter sailing ship. The chief shouts over the wind, instructing her how to rig the mainsail and steer and no not that! She ducks just in time to avoid the beam of wood. Chief Hakoda is not so lucky. Hand on his stomach, and weezing, Chief Hakoda says it’s okay, Princess, you’re learning. Azula clenches her jaw and forces herself to nod. 

She learns, and practices, and practices and learns.

She finds that the Chief is a good teacher.

Slowly, eventually, the children of the tribe giggle when they see her. They aren’t afraid anymore, and beg to see her blue fire and laugh as she tosses it into the air and makes sparks. The people smile and wave as she walks pass. She talks with them, sometimes. Gran-Gran clucks and pinches her cheek, spooning more sea prunes into her bowl. She eats without complaining, nods when Gran-Gran tells her she’s still too skinny. Chief Hakoda becomes Hakoda. Princess Azula becomes Azula.

The cutting sailing ship feels like home beneath her feet.

And honestly, she doesn’t mind wearing blue, so much. Uncle says it compliments her eyes. She knows he’s right.

 Hakoda says she’s ready to ice dodge. For real. She knows he’s right, too. 

Her brother and his… her… friends come to watch.

They all, even Suki who still has a hard time looking at her (Azula understands, of course), offer to help.

 But Azula has a really, really good teacher. And she won’t be alone, not really. 

And now, here, Azula stands still and tall as Hakoda draws the paint across her forehead.

She earns the mark of the Trusted.

Azula blinks, makes the Flame with steady, shaking hands, and bows low to ground.

And then, she lets them hug her. Zuko first. Lets him whisper in her ear how proud I’m so proud of you, Azula. And then lets Uncle. He is crying, wiping at his face and holds her close. And then Aang. Katara. Sokka. Toph punches her arm, first, but then hugs her tightly. Suki nods.

Azula meets Hakoda’s eyes, and sees a glimmer of what she always thought she saw in father’s. What she was told was there. What she convinced herself was there. She looks around and sees it in Iroh’s eyes, too.

Azula smiles.

This? This isn’t even the ending. Not even close. This is still the beginning. She is still learning, and unlearning. It will be life long, but spirits Azula’s going to do it.

And she’s not alone.

YE ASK AND YE SHALL RECEIVE

[saisew]

Sailor Mars

I started sewing in Aug 2020, This is the first sewing project I did, I finished it in Oct 2020. It’s not perfect, but I’m proud of it. Here’s the how I made it (I’ll post the fabrics in a separate post)

Patterns/Tutorials:

Skirt and Hip rolls -

Bodysuit -

I made a pattern based on a bodysuit and top I own, I use wax paper when drafting my own patterns. I used a basic short sleeve pattern, folded it in half with quilt batting in between, stitched the 3 lines, stitched the seam, and then stitched them to the bodysuit

Bows - I used this tutorial for the bows

https://youtu.be/bTrA7ljYyg8

Gloves - I used these gloves and hand stitched the glove rolls to them. I made the glove rolls by knotting yarn and wrapping yarn around the knots (kinda rope like idk) to get the width I wanted. I put the 3 pieces of yarn on the fabric and pinned in between the pieces and stitched. I turned them wrong side out and stitched the side when turned right side out then side seam is hidden on the inside.

https://www.amazon.com/gp/aw/d/B0094IDFBK?psc=1&ref=ppx_pop_mob_b_asin_title

Collar - I used the pattern below

Brooch - I bought a pack of clear plastic ornaments, picked the size that fit best, and painted the inside red

Shoes - bought on poshmark. I always buy shoes, belts, and other things I can’t make on eBay or Poshmark bc it cheaper and better for the environment 🌎

Choker - I cut a rectangle, sewed the edges together, turned it right side out, folded the edges back, sewed them down, and hand sewed hook & eyes for the closure

Tiara - bought from CatziasCollectables on Etsy

*everything is attached to the bodysuit and skirt with snaps, except the bows that have velcro and snaps

[a-libra-writes]

🌸⛅🥊💋💖🏥 for Ramsay boy 😏 (sorry if it's too much, lol, I don't know if I can send several at the same time, you can just choose one, I just really liked these 😅😅)

(oh my, this is a lot! tho tbf I didn’t give a limit! 😂 okay, putting this under a cut bc its a long boi)

🌸 Kissing

Ramsay kisses you like he wants to steal your breath. It’s always so sudden, so rough, and he brings you close to him like you might run away. It’s crushing, really, so you have to push him back and breathlessly tell him to slow down.

... Does he listen? Not really. 

You usually end up pressed against his firm chest and the cold wall, holding onto him as he bites at your lips and eagerly takes your lips. He’s just as breathless as you as he bites and kisses down your neck, and you wonder what’s gotten into him this time.

In bed, it’s just as desperate, but he’ll leave hickeys and rough kisses across your neck, breasts and thighs. He’ll bite where he pleases, even drawing blood if that makes you cry out and gasp louder. 

If you sleepily give him a chaste kiss in the morning, or a sudden one on his cheek in the day, he isn’t sure what to make of it. He’ll try to initiate something deeper sometimes, but other days, he looks at you with those intense eyes, trying to puzzle you out.

⛅ Sunset

Dreary as the Dreadfort was, it was still a proper castle, and you could climb to the top of the ramparts to watch the sunset, like you used to do at your old home. When you first married Ramsay, it was one of your many escapes. You hid in one of the older parts that was crumbling and wasn’t guarded well. You could disappear for hours up here.

Ramsay ended up finding your little hiding spot, though by that point, you had learned to handle him and live with him. He didn’t understand the appeal of just sitting still and watching a sunset. He was more interested in watching you.

He used to say and do things just to upset you, to annoy you, to make you cry or scream, but you never rewarded his behavior with a response. He hated when you would ignore him, and when your attention was taken away by a sunset, he became agitated and impatient.

“Just go back to the hall, Ramsay. I’ll be there shortly for dinner.” Gods, he was so stubborn, but you wouldn’t let him take this from you.

Finally, you lost your patience and took his hand. You command him to sit and put his head in your lap. He was confused, but finally obeyed. Like a spoiled child - maybe dog was a more accurate word - he was content to sit there while you pet his hair and freely watched the sky again. You can’t believe it worked.

Sometimes that didn’t work, and he brought his bow up to shoot targets he set up below. You weren’t sure when he did that. It was hard not to be impressed with his skill, especially considering how far away they were, and he was always pleased when you paid attention to his abilities. 

🥊 Exercise/Workout

You already know the sort of things he gets up to in the forest, and you’ll have no part of it. As a result of his wild upbringing and those “hunting trips”, he’s very fit and athletic. Ramsay has a lot of energy, you learned. Not even the rain and snow will keep him cooped up.

He would be so insistent on teaching you how to use a bow. If you already knew, he’d be delighted, demanding you show him and hunt with him. But if you didn’t ... You’d find yourself in the middle of several private lessons that were almost impossible to squirrel away from. Ramsay would stand behind you, giving you surprisingly clear instructions as you learned to notch arrows and aim just right. He’d even have a bow made for your size and strength.

A good way to keep Ramsay in good spirits was to endure the lessons and shoot with him. He preferred you to kill something, like a rabbit, but shooting targets was fine enough, especially as you began to improve. 

Roose didn’t think a lady should learn such things, but you were keeping his bastard out of his hair, so he didn’t complain.

💋 Intimacy 

He is rough and there’s rarely a reprieve from that. He always holds you a little too tight, kisses a little too hard, leaves one too many marks along your neck and collarbone. It doesn’t help that he has the energy level of a terrier, so he wants to keep going well after your legs are jelly. 

It surprised you how close he wanted you, how he wanted your hands on him - he’d put them there himself if he had to. He’d want you to kiss him back, to bite him, drag your nails down his back until he bleeds. Almost like with the kissing, it was like he worried you’d just disappear into the air if he let you go for a moment.

His favorite is when you’re facing him or in his lap, so he can trap you and keep you from squirming away. He doesn’t care about children or heirs, so if you don’t want him finishing inside you, he’ll listen and do it elsewhere which is fine because he likes to lick it off you.

When you try to slow him down, try to be a little more tender, it confuses him. He gets an uncomfortable knot in his stomach, and he wonders what to do. When you hold his face gently, or brush his hair away from his sweaty brow, or gently apologize for the bright red scratches you left on him... He doesn’t know what to do. It isn’t familiar... It isn’t bad, but ... 

The nights you’re most in control is when he’s utterly exhausted, totally physically spent, but still insists on being intimate with you. That’s when you can push him on his back and tell him what you want, and he’ll go along, too intrigued and tired to argue with you.

💖 Pregnancy

No surprise, Ramsay doesn’t heed his father at all when Roose goes on about producing an heir. Seven hells, he’s only a lord in title, it’s you and Roose who are doing a majority of running the Dreadfort. Roose often directed his frustrations at you - should you fail to do your duty as a proper wife, he’d find a way for you to be ... replaced.

It’s not like it was difficult to end up with child, given how often Ramsay wanted you. It happened, and when you told him, he was confused for only a moment. Ramsay simply shrugged, saying his father would finally stop bothering the two of you about it. So that was that.

He continued to not think much about it, but then you became tired. You were so tired, so fatigued, and often forgetful. You had even less patience for his shenanigans, and when he went looking for you, a handmaiden would inform him that you retired early. As you began to show, and your fatigue increased, Ramsay finally began to accept the reality. He still didn’t think much of what it meant, he thought of it more as “Y/N will be back to her regular self once that damn pup is out of her.”

(Honestly, he had so little parental love growing up, the entire idea of parenthood and children was just ... foreign. Something he couldn’t imagine.)

Ramsay hates seeing you in distress and pain. He doesn’t understand it, and it angers him that he has these feelings, but it’s true. So when you begin to really get along in the third trimester, he frightens the servants and handmaidens into making you completely comfortable, not upsetting you, walking and talking quietly, getting you whatever you need. He’d busy himself with even more hunting, getting food you especially liked, making sure it was totally cooked so the smell wouldn’t make you sick.

Roose was surprised, but pleased. At one point he made a cold, off-hand comment about how you could die in childbirth - but as long as you had a son, it didn’t matter. Ramsay turned on him so quickly, a guard almost stepped between them. Roose blinked, unaffected, but made a mental note to ensure the maester had all the tools and supplies he needed.

🏥 Taking Care of Injuries

As stated before, Ramsay hates you being hurt. He hates that he hates this. Sometimes it makes him so angry, he has to walk away. He doesn’t understand the sick feeling he gets when you’re hurt. 

The first time you cried, he was startled. For all the times he tried to do it himself, it happened when you took a bad fall from your horse. The maester was tying your ankle, worried it was broken, and you were quietly crying as he wrapped it. Ramsay was so upset, he barked at the maester to move and did it himself. 

Ramsay is very adept at first aid, actually. He has steady hands to sew up injuries, he knows how to disinfect and change out bandages or stitches. It helped keep his victims alive, after all.

When your hands were blistered from all the archery lessons, he took them in his rough, totally calloused hands and carefully popped the blisters. You flinched and tears sprang to your eyes, and he fought back the angry bile in his throat as he patiently cleaned them and bandaged them. 

Now that you thought about it, tending to your wounds was the only time Ramsay sat still and quiet.

When you pricked your finger badly from a sewing needle or a small knife, he’d hear your quiet curse and instantly go to your side. Ramsay just had to take your finger in his mouth. He always did, looking at you with those mischievous blue eyes the whole time. 

Whenever you have a bruise from something silly, like hitting a piece of furniture, he likes to press on it. He likes the discoloration on your skin, but he doesn’t like the frown you give him. So he kisses it, playing at being sweet, only to kiss up the rest of your body and take you in a needy kiss.

[hanakokichi-donutjuice]

👀 I noticed you followed the author I mentioned, care to check out the newest fic they posted? 👀 also also, christmas headcanons? :0

Hey! Thank you for request ! I don't know if you want Tsumitsu so when in doubt I did general hc on all the characters, but if you want Tsumitsu in particular tell me and I'll do it again ^^

I haven't read her new story yet, but it's in my Bookmarks ! As soon as I have a little time I'll read it ! :D

TBHK CHRISTMAS HEADCANONS

It's Christmas ! They are all having a great family celebration

It’s Sumire’s birthday too (not the real date but I like to think she was born on a holiday)

Tsukasa eats mistletoe

He also plays with garlands and almost electrocutes himself with the string lights

Teru has a horrible Christmas sweater but he thinks he's on top of fashion with

But no, tell him no

Besides, he made sure to match his sweater with his siblings

Mitsuba cut Nene's hair shorter

Mitsuba wears a golden garland instead of his scarf

Tsuchigomori tied Hanako's tie knot

Tsukasa couldn't tie his tie on his own so he had to ask Sakura to do it for him, but Natsuhiko said he took care of it.

Think for two seconds that we've never seen Natsuhiko with a tie, why? He just doesn't know how to tie a tie

After an hour he gave up and he ended up putting on a bow tie and suspenders in Tsukasa instead.

Aoi and Nene both have candy cane earrings

Kou makes the meal

Teru wanted to help him, but we kindly sat him down at a table instead

" NO ! OUT OF THE QUESTION ! WE WANT A WARM PARTY BUT NOT A FIRE !!! GET OUT OF THE KITCHEN NOW "

Mitsuba stole the star from the tree bc: "I am the brightest star in this room! "

Akane and Amane argue over who is more beautiful between Aoi and Nene

"Yashiro is so radiant that she could replace the star on the tree! "

"Well, Ao-Chan is so bright she shines brighter than all the fairy lights on the tree! "

Then Aoi and Nene said it was Teru the brightest in the room

So we tied Teru to the top of the tree to light up the room instead of the star

"We" in fact it was Akane and Amane out of revenge

Tsuchigomori is disguised as Santa Claus

Teru taught him how to make a good "Heave-Ho!" "To stick to the character (but Teru remains the God of "Heave-Oh!")

He also smokes in a pipe with candy cane color

"WHO PUT A FIR BRANCH IN MY PIPE ??!" "

Tsukasa beheads gingerbreadmans and glue them back together to make characters with multiple limbs / Heads

Sakura is sitting by the fire reading a large, beautiful, ancient storybook with sumptuous gold bindings

Natsuhiko had put mistletoe over her chair before the reception

He was going to go under to try to kiss her but ...

Tsukasa comes running ahead of him (dropping the mistletoe in the process) because Sakura is reading Christmas tales and he ABSOLUTELY wants her to get him over it

Mission failed.

Kou, Aoi and Nene distribute Christmas hats to everyone

Hanako put on a Christmas hat over his own hat

At one point Amane asks Tsuchigomori to do Christmas carols on the piano (I like to imagine him playing the piano, the flute and the saxophone) and he manages to convince Yako to sing too.

She has a beautiful voice, she looks like an angel

Then after she clinks glasses with Tsuchigomori

Then they toast once again to their sucks

And again, they drink again!

Okay, by then they're both totally drunk and Tsuchi ’dancing rock with Yako

Flash Info: Music is a slow

Lemon improvised himself Dj, besides his turntables have a lemon motif

Mitsuba eats all the coconut rock fereros (Rafaelo I think?) he can find, anyway nobody likes it so it's okay

Tsukasa and the Mokkes steal the mandarins and papilottes which are placed on the guests' plates

There are firecrackers in the wrapper paper but they don't make much noise: Tsukasa is very very disappointed

So instead he hides behind Mitsuba and explodes crackers behind him to scare him

Almost all the gifts are for Aoi or for Nene

In fact Akane and Amane made a competition to find out which one would give the most gifts to his sweetheart

Perfect equality

"Hanako-Kun ... Did you really get me a Daikon plush ?! "

Aoi received ALL Pandora Hearts, Vampire Knights and Black Butler tomes from Akane

Natsuhiko also gave Sakura a lot of gifts, but they were mostly books.

He gave her some handmade silk gloves too (Mitsuba gave him the patterns and he managed to sew them himself, it's wobbly but it's pretty anyway and Sakura likes them a lot), a pretty refined and expensive tea set, and books on medicinal plants, on precious stones and on healing but he also offered her science fiction books because he knows that she is secretly a fan of this kind of reading

Sakura does not show it but she is very touched, especially since she had never spoken about the fact that she has a weakness for science fiction books.

Sakura gives Natsuhiko a kiss on the cheek

Simp.Exe stop working

"There was mistletoe above us, that's the tradition"

She gave him a dangling earring with an amethyst stone (I can say more if you want but the meaning of the amethyst is based on a hc of Sakura that I have, if you want hc a this to better understand why this stone, ask me ^^)

Nene gave Amane her rocket keychain, lost about 50 years ago

Hanako remains silent then he hugs Nene, he almost cries

Akane offered Hanako milk

“It's good for growth"

Kou gave him a cat ear headphones

And Sumire gave Hanako a bell necklace

"I AM NOT A F****** CAT! "

"Hanako-Kun… You meow while sleeping and sneezing…"

Tsukasa donated handmade pottery to everyone

He accidentally broke one on Amane's head

"My head is… Spinning… Ho I see… The Stars… THE STARS, BROTHER! THE MOON IS NEAR! "

But he offered Yaoi to Mitsuba while whistling

Mitsuba turned all red and stuttering after that

Hanako gave Akane a math manual with his name written on it

"But ... is this my manual ??? It's been something like… Seven months since I look for him! "

"Yes, I thought you would be happy if I gave it back to you for Christmas"

Teru gave everyone the lobster plush toys he won this summer, his stock was too big for Tiara's room (which by the way is really big for a little girl room!)

Aoi gave Nene pretty hair clips and Nene gave her some lily seeds

Sakura gave Nene gaiters and an hourglass and Nene gave her a set of tea scented with autumn flavors and a scented with flavors of winter

The Toilet Trio donated cups to Tsuchi ’

Tsuchi' and Yako both treated themselves to first-price perfumes found in supermarkets

He also gave her a fake fox fur to annoy her

Yako bought her a ferret, (don't ask me why I don't know, she thought it was a good idea)

So now we have Tsukasa and Mitsuba running behind the ferret to play with him since half an hour

And Hanako wants the ferret to be called "Rocket"

Sumire received luxury jewelry, clothing, shoes, fan and perfume

Tsuchigomori donated a telescope to Hanako

Kou received overalls, a multicolored sweater and items and clothes with egg designs on them

Mitsuba received a mirror and polaroid paper for his photos

He also got a whole bunch of kawaii items and clothes with peaches, including an orange skirt and a pink winter dress with soft faux fur.

And Mitsuba gave everyone the same thing: A photo of him with a cute face: “So am I not the most beautiful of gifts? UwU "

Lemon offered Akane a Netflix subscription, but he plans to squat his account too

All the gifts that Lemon has received have… Lemon… designs.

"We should stop the joke one of these days guys, once it's going but every year it gets long by force ..."

Someone (obviously unconscious!) Offered a jumping stick and stilts to Tsukasa, who had the wonderful idea of ​​combining the two, before eventually dashing headfirst into the table.

A little more and he landed in the fire ! ! !

Akane donated a plush, a Hawaiian shirt, glasses and a pen all with pineapple designs for Teru

Teru gave him some sushi candies to make together

He also gave her a watch without hands because: "You don't need any object to tell the time, after all you're a bit of a clock yourself, aren't you? "

"After the party we'll have to throw out the tree, but do we throw Teru with the tree too? "

I hope you like it, I took a long time to write it <3

[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.

[celestialvoid-fanfiction]

Embroidery

Stiles wanted to try making Derek a floral sweater.

  For @benaya-trash​

(You can also read it on AO3, here)

  Stiles’ fingers were sore from how many times he’d accidentally pricked himself with the sewing needle, but he was too stubborn and persistent to give up.

He sat cross-legged on the lounge room floor, his gaze flicking from the tablet that was propped up on a pillow in front of him playing a YouTube video of an embroidery tutorial to the stretched out fabric that sat in his lap. He followed along – step by step – as he made a pinwheel flower, weaving the soft thread over and under the outstretched stitches until it slowly took the form of soft white petals. He sewed a few French knots into the centre of the flower with dark brown thread, making it look more like a flower—somewhere between a ranunculus and a lisianthus.

He’d been working on the sweater in secret for weeks; he wanted it to be a surprise for Derek. When he’d started out it seemed so overwhelming—the simple grey sweater seemed so drab but it was a large sweater and the thought of embroidering flowers across the top of the torso, the shoulders and the back, seemed like a daunting task; especially for someone who hadn’t done this before.

It’d taken a few tries; a lot of the flowers had been sewn and unstitched and sewn again.

But now, after weeks of work, it was starting to fill out and Stiles was quite impressed with what he’d done.

The grey fabric was decorated with cream peonies, tall strands of pastel blue and faded yellow snap dragons, white lilies of the valley that stood out vibrantly among the bowing stalks of the other flowering blossoms—their petals stitched together with different shades of blue thread. Silver and white thread had been wound together to make bundles of Queen Anne’s Lace – the small flowers made of French knots.

Crisp white gladiolus flowers stretched upwards across the shoulders, the tips of the flowers still green, with small white buds of flowers ready to blossom.

A few feathery stitches made the outstretched vines that connected the flowers along the edges of the pattern, where he blossoms thinned out and faded back into the fabric of the sweater.

The empty spaced were filled in with French knots made of baby blue thread and the off white and pale yellow outstretched stitched of bundled petals that looked like dandelions and daisies hidden beneath the other flowers.

Finally, dark green leaves, vines and budding stalks were layered over and under the embroidered flowers, filling out the foliage and making the pattern look complete.

Stiles tied off the end of the thread, setting aside the needle as he unfastened the embroidery hoop and laid the sweater out across his lap.

He felt a spark of pride ignite a warmth in his chest as he looked down at what he’d accomplished.

It wasn’t as brightly coloured or as bold as the other floral sweaters that Derek owned, but he wanted one that was soft and calming, the light grey fabric of the sweater softened even further by the off white, cream, and pastel colours of the embroidery thread that covered the top of it. The boldest colours among the pattern were the dark green leaves and the crisp white flowers, but even they seemed muted among the arrangement.

A smile lit up his face. He had one last step to do and that was to hide the ugly stitched and knots underneath. He had originally thought to sew another layer into the sweater, but Melissa had found him some iron-on fabric that would seal it all in place.

He turned the sweater inside out and carried it into the laundry, turning on the iron and positioning the pieces of iron-on fabric that he had measured and cut out earlier.

Moments later, it was done. He turned the sweater back the right way and carried it back into the living room.

He cleared away the embroidery thread and needles, turned off the tablet and put the living room back the way it was before.

He glanced up at the clock, his heart skipping a beat as he realised what time it was.

Derek would be home any minute.

He quickly pulled out one of the small boxes they had stored away, lining it with tissue paper before folding up the sweater and putting it in the box. He laid the tissue paper over the top of it and put the lid on the box, tying a silky off white ribbon around it before carrying it upstairs and setting it down on the end of their bed.

He made his way downstairs and into the kitchen, switching on the kettle.

Moments later, he heard the front door open.

“Hi,” Stiles called out.

“Hi,” Derek replied.

“Do you want a cup of tea?” Stiles asked.

“Yes, please,” Derek said, his voice softened by pleading. “Just give me a moment, though, I need to go change.”

“Okay.”

Derek made his way upstairs.

Stiles tried to slow his racing heart beat – tried to hide his anxiety – as he listened to Derek’s footsteps across the floorboards.

He heard him go into the bedroom, stop and come back out. He marched downstairs and into the kitchen.

“What’s this?” Derek asked, holding up the box.

“A present,” Stiles answered bluntly.

“A present?” Derek repeated.

“For you.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you,” Stiles replied. “Now, open in.”

Derek pouted as he set the box down on the counter and untied the ribbon. He lifted the lid, unfolded the layers of tissue paper, and froze.

His expression softened as he looked down at the sweater.

He set the lid aside and carefully lifted the sweater out of the box, unfolding it and holding it up.

His pale aventurine irises sparkled as tears welled in his eyes. His lips trembled slightly as he took in the sight, completely lost for words.

“I made it for you,” Stiles said, hoping his nervousness didn’t show in his voice.

“You made it?” Derek asked, astounded.

“Well, I didn’t make the sweater, but I sewed the flowers onto it,” Stiles corrected himself.

Derek blinked in shock, adjusting his hold on the sweater and gently brushing his fingertips across the soft thread of the embroidered flowers.

“You made this… for me?” he said quietly, struggling to fight back his tears.

“Yeah,” Stiles answered slowly.

Derek gently set it back in the box, turning to Stiles and pulling him into his arms. He buried his face in the curve of Stiles’ shoulder as the tears began to fall, soaking the fabric of Stiles’ shirt.

Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek, letting out a sigh of relief.

He liked it.

“I love you,” Derek said, his voice muffled by Stiles’ chest.

Stiles let out a breathless chuckle, craning his head to press a soft kiss to Derek’s temple. “I love you too.”

Derek drew back slowly, using the sleeve of his jacket to wipe away the tears that dampened his cheeks. He looked at Stiles lovingly.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?”

A small smile turned up the corners of Stiles’ lips. “I ask myself the same question every day.”

“What, what did you do to deserve me?” Derek teased, laughing quietly.

“Yes,” Stiles joked. He stepped closer, bringing his lips to Derek’s in a tender loving kiss.

The kettle finished boiling as Stiles drew back slowly. He offered Derek a kind smile as he turned to make him a cup of tea and as he turned back Derek was already pulling the sweater on over his head.

He straightened out the hem, looking down at it and gently running his fingers over the stitches. Another wave of tears welled in his eyes.

“Enjoy it while you can; I’m only going to steal it off you in a week,” Stiles said, trying to stop Derek from crying.

Derek let out a small laugh.

“You’re never getting this one,” he said, hugging himself. “I love it too much.”

Stiles felt the sense of achievement and pride fill his chest again.

Derek took another step forward, gently taking the cup of tea from Stiles’ hand and setting it down on the counter. He wrapped his arms around Stiles’ waist and pulled him close, smiling sweetly as he said, “And I love you.”