#anyways at least now i have a new hover banner out of it

[shiiikigami]

no i haven't been Doing Drafts i've been Coloring Inside the Lines like a Goddamn Adult

[ahtsumu]

目送 ; oikawa tooru

「alt. title: five times oikawa didn’t look back and the one time he did」

↳ pairing: oikawa tooru x f!reader

↳ synopsis: you spend a lifetime watching him go, sometimes with your stomach tied in knots, sometimes with tears in your eyes, but always with love.

↳ genre(s): angst, fluff, basically an emotional rollercoaster, non-linear storyline

↳ warning(s): profanity, depiction of a panic attack, suggestive themes

↳ length: 5.4k words

↳ a/n: hq fam how we doing after 402 ?? LOL anyway this is my birthday gift to oikawa tooru: my sun, moon, and stars, second to none, yadda yadda. the title is taken from a book with the same name, in case you were wondering. please pay attention to the roman numerals ahead of each section!! enjoy!

v.

“This is the last call for Japan Airlines flight 717 to Buenos Aires, now boarding at gate number twelve. This is the last call…”

Goodbyes are hard when you know they’re forever. Or at least a while.

The clamour of Haneda airport dims to a faint buzz as the two of you continue standing with touching shoulders–– facing the jetliner instead of each other–– in futile hopes of delaying the inevitable.

Oikawa knows that you’re holding in your tears by the light tremors running through your body. Permitting himself to steal a look at your side profile, he notices the familiar tensing of your jaw and hard-set look in your red-rimmed eyes.

Tch. You said you wouldn’t cry.

Impulsively, he unzips his backpack and pulls out a familiar turquoise banner. It feels like just yesterday the team handed him the silk fabric with everyone’s farewell gifts wrapped inside.

Out-of-sequence memories of the Spring High qualifiers flash through your mind. The orange-haired Karasuno player’s spike ricochets off Oikawa’s forearms. The numbers on both sides of the scoreboard slowly inch up like they’re taking turns. Oikawa’s white knuckles against the metal basin. Red eyes. Heaving chest. Something soft against your skin. Rule the Court.

And just like the last time, he gently drapes it over your shoulders, brushing his fingers against your neck as he does so. God, how he wants to kiss you.

“But it’s yours,” you protest weakly, making no move to give it back.

“It won’t be for a while.” His voice cracks when he speaks. But it will be mine again when I come back for it.

He wants to kiss you. One last time.

He wants your mouth against his like absolution to a sinner because he knows that what he’s done to you, what he’s doing to you right now, is comparable to desecration. But he remembers the look on your face that night he broke the news to you. How your megawatt grin caved into a wince when the length of his contract with Club Athletico San Juan finally registered in your mind.

You swallow your feelings of betrayal. You knew what you were getting yourself into.

“Five years is an awfully long time to be apart,” you say after a while.

Oikawa bites his lip. He doesn’t have the heart to say that five was just the starting number. If he does well there, he’ll probably stay longer. He’ll probably do well there. “You don’t have to wait for me.”

Seconds drag into minutes. The cavity in his stomach festers as he waits for your response, but he has a feeling that he already knows your answer.

So instead, all he can do when your floodgates finally burst open is cup your face in his calloused palms and wipe away some of your tears before offering you his own watery smile.

Through your blurred vision, you watch as the boy in front of you steels his resolve and disappears from your life through the jet bridge, ignoring his heart as it begs for one last look over his shoulder.

Oikawa nods numbly when the old man sitting beside him asks if he’s leaving home for the first time. Home, he realises, isn’t anywhere with walls, isn’t an address, isn’t even a person. When someone says they want to go home, it’s not a space that they yearn for, but rather, a time.

He watches Japan grow smaller through the window and feels himself yearn for the time he still had your heart in his hands. It felt like he was holding the sun.

i.

You wouldn’t consider July 21st to be a special day. Nothing special happened earlier that morning when you woke up without your usual alarm. Nothing special happened when your friends texted you four simple words–– come to Azukihana beach!–– during breakfast. But (and this will come to you much, much later) something special happened when said friends left you to guard their things as they dashed to the supermarket for more snacks.

For now, it’s just July 21st, and you’re lying with your back against a towel on the first day of summer break, soaking in the sun, peacefully flipping through a book.

“DON’T FUCKING DO IT, YOU COLOSSAL PIECE OF SHIT!” The familiar voice tears through the beach. Was that Iwaizumi? You set the book down and sit up to check.

And suddenly, the yellow and blue volleyball that had been leisurely rolling your way halts perfectly before your toes. Behind it jogs a shirtless brunet you’ve definitely seen around school.

Oikawa Tooru stops right behind the runaway volleyball and peers at you through half-lidded eyes. “Sorry about that,” he says, flashing you a charming smile.

After casually picking up the ball with one hand, he flexes his abdominal muscles as he straightens back up. Chestnut irises attempt to discreetly sweep over your features but you catch his gaze in the act, quirking an unamused brow. You also catch the intrigued twitch of his lips that follow.

You’re not stupid. Despite having never met him, you know a lot about the Grand King (as many call him). He’s the constant subject of Iwaizumi’s ire and you’ve heard a lifetime’s complaints about him at joint-family luncheons.

But here’s what’s important: you know that he tears himself apart to be the player his team needs him to be, that he sometimes makes Iwaizumi wish he’d passed the Shiratorizawa entrance exam, and that he fiddles with hearts like origami and sets fire to those beautiful fragile trinkets right after.

And in the interest of self-defence (but against what the devil on your shoulder begs), you choose to not place your most prized possession on the table.

A simple “no worries” passes through your lips. You return to your book. A page turns.

Oikawa Tooru is dismissed.

Though your gaze is trained on the page, you can feel his presence at your feet for a few seconds longer. You wonder what his next move is. Much to your surprise, instead of trying to strike up another conversation, he simply lets out an airy hum and strolls back to the sand court where he came from without a second glance.

Iwaizumi wonders why Oikawa is smiling so victoriously after watching the whole ordeal, but your tan family friend has, unlike the calculating Grand King, failed to notice one important detail:

your book is upside down.

And, as if in a trance, your eyes have followed Oikawa all the way back to his sandy kingdom.

Once the sun has set, Iwaizumi checks his phone and notices a text he’d missed in the afternoon. It’s from Y/N. Unease digs itself in his chest when he realises it can’t possibly be for anything except…

hey what was that about?

This can’t be good. Thumbs rapidly typing a response, he races to quash any interest you may have budding in Oikawa. You… you’re good. Nice. Smart enough for UTokyo. A bit naive, but he’s been around your overbearing parents long enough to see it’s not entirely your fault. And even though you run in different circles at school, he feels obligated to protect you from monsters that hide beneath pretty surfaces. He’s known you since the two of you were in diapers.

just trash being what it is

Iwaizumi watches the three grey dots on your side appear, disappear, reappear, and disappear again. And that’s when he realises that he cannot help you. The villain in this arc of your story has already sunken his teeth in your tender, unsullied flesh.

trash?

He sighs.

oikawa

It isn’t a surprise to Iwaizumi when summer break ends and Oikawa’s chestnut eyes start hunting for someone in the cafeteria during lunch. He doesn’t raise a brow when he hears that the second-year captain has been sneaking into Class 7, sometimes with flowers in his hands, and strolling out with a dazed look on his face. He slaps his teammates out of shock when Oikawa mentions his troubles with pursuing some girl–– but not before slapping himself first. Because the Oikawa he knows is not a chaser.

“Her name’s Y/N,” the brunet says, suddenly realising that he has never introduced any of his temporary interests to the team. But it’s been well over two months and he’s starting to think he’s been friend-zoned. Or worse. “I think she hates me.” He laughs melodically, then cocks his head in contemplation. “Is it weird that I kinda like that?”

Iwaizumi hides a satisfied smile behind a sip of water. Oikawa’s revelation has cleared the unease your name brought to his chest. Just a little. Perhaps he’d misread you. You have a bite of your own.

iii.

It’s routine for Oikawa to slink into Class 7 with a dazzling grin during morning break, but he’ll sometimes show up with flowers instead just to remind you that his affections, along with his modus operandi–– haven’t changed since he first started visiting you in September.

The girls in your homeroom have grown used to seeing the six-foot-tall volleyball captain hovering around your desk like a butterfly. Most treat him as part of the scenery nowadays. To them, Oikawa Tooru is no longer the mysterious, out-of-reach deity the rest of the school still paints him to be.

So when he strolls into class on a chilly January afternoon with your name a tune on his lips, they leave him be. Recently, the ladies of Seijoh have focused their attentions on some fellow on the swim team, anyway. Oikawa doesn’t feel as upset as he thinks he should about his shrinking fan club, but when his gaze finds yours already steady, expectant, utterly adoring on him, he understands why.

“For the lady,” he says like he does every time. A cluster of yellow flowers wrapped in brown kraft paper plop onto your desk. He pulls a chair up to your side, purposely ignoring, again, how two certain grooves in the wooden floor keep growing deeper with his visits.

You remember the first time he started bringing you flowers.

A posy of pink flowers sits awkwardly on your desk, untouched.

“I tell you I’d rather take your serve to my face than attend the bunkasai with you and your response is to give me weeds?” you reply with your chin in the palm of your hands, amusement blossoming over your features.

“Stop being a tease, Y/N-chan, they’re flowers,” he huffs, crossing his arms on your desk. “And I know you want to take them. The florist even said I have immaculate taste.”

“Really? Then what do these mean?”

Oikawa falters.

“Hmm?”

“Pink camellias,” he finally says, carefully enunciating the flower's name, “means that you’re a fucking tease. And that you should come to the bunkasai with me.” You snort and tell him to quit volleyball and join comedy club, feeling a strange warmth in your chest when he laughs.

The two of you fall into the same rhythm as always, talking a little bit about this and that, throwing in witty remarks where they belong, never passing up the chance to make fun of each other’s little idiosyncrasies. He’s enraptured by the way you string words together to describe the story behind your class’s bunkasai performance and all the gears in your brain whirr when he explains the strategy he’s using against the team Seijoh’s playing later that day.

When the bell rings, he reluctantly drags his chair back to the desk he stole it from. Just before he slinks back out the door, though, you tell him with a stern gaze that the Ushiwaka from Shiratorizawa he just spent the break shit-talking doesn’t hold a candle to Seijoh’s Grand King.

It’s like you had just stepped under a new light. Oikawa pauses in front of the doorway, trying to decipher what it is that’s different about you. And suddenly, the roses in his cheeks are in full bloom. Delighted and puzzled at his own realisation, he turns around without a second glance your way and strides back to Class 5. Oh, man, he muses as he passes through the emptying corridor. Oh, man. Iwa-chan is going to love this.

Your phone buzzes later that evening.

seijoh v. shiratorizawa 1-2, the text reads, quickly followed by, GAH.

Your lips twitch, though it doesn’t reach your eyes. Tapping your fingers against your phone screen for a response that’ll cheer him up, you suddenly remember a phrase Oikawa said earlier that day. It drew a laugh from you when it came out his contorted face.  He was obviously still hung up over with the words of the opposing team’s ace. Hopefully, it makes him feel something else coming from you.

you should’ve come to shiratorizawa, you send, grinning.

His response is immediate.

l m f A O

what flowers would you like at your funeral?

And then you’re reminded of his petalled gift on your desk, now comfortably sitting in a glass vase at your bedside. Pink camellias, he said? Curious, you open your laptop and type in the name for its meaning.

Longing, you remember, watching your boyfriend chatter about something–– probably aliens–– animatedly. The yellow flowers on your desk, you realise, are ones you’ve never seen before.

“Oikawa, what’s the name of these?” you suddenly ask. He stops in the middle of his sentence (he was definitely talking about aliens, by the way), and grins smugly.

“Jonquils,” he says with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “spelt J-O-N-Q-U-I-L-S, means that your boyfriend’s going to colonise Mars one day. And if you’re lucky, you can be the first queen of Mars. How ‘bout that?”

It doesn’t mean what he says it does, by the way.

ii.

Splashes of pink and orange have already settled into the blue sky above when you step onto the rooftop of Seijoh’s humanities building. Despite the breeze that has swept through the air, the flame of curiosity in your stomach burns just enough for you to turn a cheek to the cold.

Come to the rooftop at 6 PM.

It’s 5:59. Impatient, you study the note in your hand again. Maybe you’ll be able to glean something from the laconic letter this time.

Much to your irritation, no one had seen the author of this note. They had expertly placed the unsigned card on your desk with a single rose and Hershey’s chocolate kiss on top during lunch. Elegantly scrawled, their seven words have had your brain running circles all day around their identity. Could it be…? No–– he seemed completely normal earlier today. Still, you can’t shake your suspicions. They borderline hope.

Who else…

You inhale the cool air deeply and lean back against the rooftop railing, eyes burning a hole into the metal entrance. The door swings open with a high-pitched groan. Your breath catches in your throat.

… if not him?

Time briefly stops when Oikawa Tooru steps through the entrance, still in his volleyball uniform, sweaty from practice, cheeks the same colour as the setting sun. There’s an unusually tentative look on his face, though it’s immediately wiped off and replaced with the realisation that this is real when he sees you slightly slack-jawed, blinking once, twice, three times before letting out a breath.

“You look surprised. Expecting someone else to confess today?” he asks, crossing his arms in front of his uniformed chest. Despite how his features are contorted by his poorly hidden jealousy, you can’t help but feel a flood of blood rush through your veins, lighting every inch of your skin on fire.

Because whether he knows it or not, Oikawa, the Grand King of the Court, prettiest boy in all of Miyagi, has skipped the table and placed his heart straight into your hands.

“Of course not,” you retort. “I just didn’t think you’d… well, do something like this.” And I didn’t want to get my hopes up. Iwaizumi’s words still find their way into your mind sometimes. I didn’t want origami made from my heartstrings.

Oikawa’s demeanour changes and his eyes dart away from your face. Shoving his hands into his windbreaker’s pockets, he admits, “I’ve honestly never done something like this before.” A faint blush spreads across his cheeks.

“Really? You’ve never stepped foot in the fourteenth shrine of Sendai?” you tease, referring to how Seijoh students have claimed this very rooftop as one of the God of Love’s many temples. You both know he holds the school record for the number of visits to this rooftop. At this rate, he could be one of its caretakers.

“That’s not what I meant,” he replies with a scowl, though the awkward tension between you two dissipates. And it feels like the two of you are back at your desk in Class 7, snickering uncontrollably while throwing playful jabs at each other. Sensing the change in atmosphere, Oikawa finally steps forward to join you by the railing.

Humming softly, he rests his elbows on the metal bar, props his head up with his hands, and sets his gaze on the lowering sun.

It’d be unfair to say that you didn’t at least try to enjoy the moment of peace with the boy beside you. But there’s a burning question on your mind that you can’t put off asking any longer.

“Why me?” you finally blurt out. “You could have any girl in this school. What made you choose me?”

The brunet whips his head around, disbelief written all over his face. “You think I chose to chase after the most annoying girl in all of Miyagi?” He laughs. “Ridiculous. I’d never willingly put myself through that unnecessary angst.”

You scoff and cross your arms.

“I think that when you like someone, it’s harder to explain why,” he quickly adds. “‘Cause it’s not supposed to make sense. I bet that the inability to explain your feelings is a prerequisite for true feelings, actually. It’s logical to say that you’d date Person A because they’re smart, or Person B because they’re hot, or Person C because they’re rich. But I’m pretty sure that that’s not… that’s not falling for someone. When you fall for someone… you just do. No logic required. You weren’t an option I ultimately settled on, Y/N. One day I just woke up and thought, if not you, then no one else.”

A beat passes. A flurry of words floods through your brain, only to evaporate when the devil on your shoulder decides that words aren’t quite adequate for what you want Oikawa to hear.

So instead, your feet take you one step closer into his space. Impulsively, your fingers find their way to his nape and your eyes flutter shut and suddenly–– suddenly, your parted lips brush against Oikawa’s. Instantly, he deepens the kiss, soft lips surging against yours like a pulse under pressure. You barely register his arms snaking around your waist, tighter and tighter until the space between your bodies is completely closed off.

Breathless, you finally detach your lips from his. Oikawa, who still has you encircled in his arms, pouts at the loss of contact, though he sulky façade only lasts a second before it gives way to a grin that stretches from ear to ear. He looks magnificent. Cheeks red, lips flushed, chest heaving, eyes wide with excitement. You want to kiss him again.

“One more.” It’s as if he read your mind. “To celebrate that last one.”

When Oikawa finally detaches himself from your lips, it’s to respond to the buzzing in his pocket. Noticing your raised brows, he explains that it’s an alarm for practice. The Spring High Prelims are just around the corner and he doesn’t plan on graduating without never having taken his team to Nationals.

“That’s my cue,” he states with a warm–– read: not apologetic–– smile. He doesn’t grab your hand or look imploringly into your eyes in hopes that you understand, never mind that you just shared your first kiss, never mind that you just became his girlfriend.

If Oikawa’s looking for any sign of your objection, he won’t find any. Instead, you step out of his space with an acquiescent nod. You knew what you were getting yourself into.

“Play well,” you say softly.

But before he heads for the creaky rooftop door, he presses one last kiss to your lips. And then he turns around, whistling as he goes, leaving you beaming behind his back with the light of a thousand suns.

iv.

When Matsukawa hands you the turquoise “Rule the Court” banner after the team lunch with a shit-eating grin on his face, the only resistance you offer is a resigned sigh.

“I’ve been dating Oikawa since we were second years,” you say flatly.

“Sorry, Y/N-san, but it’s the team’s hazing ritual,” he replies, not appearing sorry at all. “And you’re the only one who hasn’t done it.” He jerks his head at the blonde girl standing a little farther from the group with Hanamaki. “Emiko-san did it at the last game.”

“Plus, it’s the Spring High qualifier semifinals!” Kindaichi adds. “It’s an even bigger deal for you to do it now, especially since you had to miss our games on the first two days for school.” The team murmurs in agreement.

You shudder at the thought of your impending distress. Sit in the front row of the cheer squad and raise the banner with a scream every time your boyfriend serves? Fleeing from the Sendai City Gymnasium back home in an expensive taxi suddenly becomes very appealing.

Seeing the expectant and hopeful looks on the rest of the team’s faces, however, you begrudgingly place the banner in your backpack, signalling your acceptance of the horrible, cringe-worthy tradition.

“Where is Oikawa-san?” Kindaichi asks, rotating his turnip-shaped head around rapidly. “He was just at the team lunch. Iwaizumi-san’s missing too…”

Kunimi shrugs, pulling out his copy of the team schedule. He starts herding the team towards one of the courts. “Our game against Karasuno starts about an hour, so we should start warm-ups in around fifteen minutes.”

Worry creeps up your spine. For the past few days, all Oikawa has talked about is this match against his bratty kouhai’s team. And in the past two weeks leading up to today, you haven’t been able to even catch a glimpse of his face outside of break or lunch. To suddenly go missing before warm-ups doesn’t seem like Oikawa. You’re about to ask the team if he’s ever done this before, but your phone starts ringing a familiar tune and the question is set aside.

“Iwai––”

“Third-floor bathroom by the orange pillar. Come alone. Don’t tell anyone. Emergency.” Through his harsh and abrupt tone, you pick up traces of fear.

“What––”

“It’s Oikawa.” The call is cut before you can ask any more questions. Heart suddenly racing, you tell the team that your mother just called with questions about your new smart blender and excuse yourself to “explain what the manufacturers mean by salsify”. No one sees you bolt towards the nearest set of staircases with Oikawa the only thought on your mind.

There are very few things in this world that scare you. Stray hairs in the bathroom, the dark, essays longer than three pages… but the terror that short-circuits your brain when you find your boyfriend in the bathroom–– knuckles white around the sink, chest heaving violently, frenzied pupils surrounded by broken blood vessels–– trumps any fear you’ve faced before.

Iwaizumi stands helplessly beside him.

“Is he having a panic attack?” you question, still unable to move your feet. You’ve never seen Oikawa like this before. He’s the Grand King who hums while he walks, who spams your phone’s camera roll with peace-signs and funny faces, who winks and flirts and teases without regard. But watching the long-deified setter crumble like a measly human before you, you realise that Oikawa is also the guy who tore his meniscus from overexertion, who trades sleep to study his opponents play, who works his body to the bone just to stay a hairline above a certain Karasuno setter.

“A scout for the Schweiden Adlers said that Kageyama will soon surpass Oikawa in skill.” Iwaizumi explains how they had overheard the conversation lowly in your ear. “I got us into this bathroom just before he completely lost it. 5-4-3-2-1 isn’t working. And he won’t listen to a word I say.” What’s 5-4-3-2-1? Well, if it isn’t working then don’t focus on that right now.

Your eyes dart to Oikawa’s quivering body again. “I don’t know how to pull someone out of a panic attack.”

“The goal is to ground him. So use physical touch, make him feel something with texture, and get him to talk,” he responds instantly. Mechanically. Like he’s all-too-familiar with this set of instructions. A heaviness grows in the pit of your stomach when you realise what that means for Oikawa. And yet, from that very dread sprouts strength.

Slowly, you tread over to Oikawa and place a hand on his arm. His muscles tense under your touch but when you murmur over and over that it’s “Y/N, your girlfriend, the most annoying girl in Miyagi”, his fingers loosen ever-so-slightly from the metal basin. He lets you lead him to the bench by the door. He lets you drape the Seijoh banner over his shoulders like it’s armour and wrap your arms around his waist. He lets you press your cheek to his sweat-drenched back.

Get him to talk.

“Remember that quote you showed me from that interview of yours? What was it again?” you question softly.

No response.

“If you’re going to hit it, hit it until it breaks,” you say into his ear.

Through the mirror, you see his eyes widen with recognition. In the brief moment of lucidity that washes over Oikawa’s glistening face, you repeat the original question again, followed by his own quote.

Again and again.

And Oikawa finally says back.

“If you’re going to hit it, hit it until it breaks.” Focus re-enters his gaze. He blinks as if just waking from a spell.

“That’s right,” you say as firmly as possible. “So don’t you dare break first, Tooru.”

An unreadable blend of emotions scrawls itself over his features. While Oikawa washes his face with cold water, you remember rumination and resolve but can’t decipher the rest, giving up anyway when Iwaizumi pushes open the bathroom door. When the light washes over Oikawa, his face shows no signs of the episode he just had. It’s just like how the sky moves on after a storm, how the sun beams to say, “I’m here now. The rain has gone.”

But sometimes it still rains in spite of the sun.

A sunshower. It sounds so beautiful. But it’s wonderfully sad.

The three of you wordlessly make your way to the court where the rest of Seijoh is likely getting ready to warm up. What are you supposed to say after that? What can you say?

Once the smell of air salonpas and sweat finally greets your nose, Oikawa slips the Seijoh banner off his back and hands it over to you. Guessing that’s your cue to leave, you tell him to play well like you always do before starting to head for the upper deck. Softly, Oikawa asks you to wait.

“Stay for warm-ups,” he adds. “Please.”

From your spot behind the Seijoh divider, you carefully watch for any signs of another breakdown. To your relief, he goes the entire half-hour without a single crack in his disposition, exchanging laidback grins with the team, bantering with Iwaizumi. At one point he even has the audacity to taunt the Karasuno setter Tobio-chan, as Oikawa often says with a sneer.

Sunshowers, Y/N. Sunshowers.

Just before the referees call for the teams to line up at their ends of the court, Oikawa jogs over to you, eyes folding into thin crescents when he smiles.

He pulls the Seijoh banner out from your hands and gingerly cloaks it around your shoulders. Oikawa presses a quick kiss to your lips and murmurs, “Thank you.” Something in face tells you that it’s supposed to mean more than gratitude. Before you can read more into it, he turns back around and jogs to the line where his team awaits. Oikawa grins ferally.

Knowing that your luminous eyes are fixed to his back like his own set of wings, the monster crows on the other side suddenly look more like humans.

vi.

Oikawa isn’t surprised that his text is still unopened. At twenty-seven years old, he’s had his fair share of dead-ends when it comes to love. But he hadn’t expected radio silence from you of all people.

After closing all the tabs of Team Japan’s latest matches, he powers off his laptop and checks his phone again to reread what he wrote to your old number one last time. Still nothing. It’s highly probable you’ve changed phone numbers at least once in the last nine years, but the disappointment’s still there after he powers his phone off for the night. Tomorrow’s a big day and he’s not the same victim of self-destruction he had been in high school.

Or so he thinks, realising that texting the last person he loved the night before the 2021 Olympics volleyball finals might have been slightly irresponsible on his part. A thought arises in his head, though he quickly quashes it. Asking Iwaizumi to pass the message along would be a little overboard, wouldn’t it? Oikawa chuckles, imagining he response he’d get from his best friend (and Team Japan’s team trainer, that traitor).

“Go the fuck to sleep or I’ll put you to sleep, you dumbass simp,” he hears in Iwaizumi’s gruff voice.

He convinces himself that you’ll be there like you’ve always been. After all, he’s spent a lifetime with your pair of watchful eyes on his back. Satisfied, he drifts into a dreamless sleep.

The volume in the Ariake Arena is astronomical. Blood pounds against his ears as he sets the ball in the air, a monstrous grin carving into his face when his teammate José spikes the set straight down the net, drawing a wave of oohs and aahs from spectators on both sides.

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes at the flashy Team Argentina setter and finishes taping up Ushijima’s arm.

Oikawa turns haughtily towards the opposite team, gaze zeroing in on Team Japan’s raven-haired setter and the shrimpy ginger beside him. It’s been a while since he last saw them this close in person–– the chance encounter with Hinata in Brazil happened well over three years ago and he hadn’t had the time earlier in the tournament to say hello. Of course they’re the final boss in this arc, he muses, though the thought is void of vexation. Instead, begrudging pride blossoms in his chest. Truthfully, he had expected nothing less from his kouhai.

And he expects nothing less than finally tasting the ambrosia of victory against that monster–– no, an entire generation of monsters–– today. Monsters who happen to be the kids he grew up beside.

He wonders what you’d say at the sight of Japan’s greatest players all gathered on one court. On instinct, his eyes dive into the bleachers, searching for your face. Knowing he’s not likely to find you like this, he tsks, deciding to look for Iwaizumi instead. Maybe he knows where you are.

The referees signal for both teams to line up at their ends of the court. As he steps onto the white boundary line, he notices Iwaizumi’s gaze transfixed on someone in the upper deck on Team Argentina’s side. The neutral expression on his face morphs into shock, then recognition. And then he glances at Oikawa.

The latter’s brows furrow before everything clicks in place.

Who else…

All your memories together hit him at full force–– your face shimmering with tears in front of gate twelve in Haneda Airport, the feeling of your shallow breaths against his neck, the savvy lilt to your voice as you speak.

… if not her?

For the first time in his life, Oikawa Tooru looks behind his shoulder.

And there you are, leaning against the railing with the old Seijoh flag draped over your shoulders, a tender, splendid smile on your lips.

“Play well,” you mouth.

And Oikawa feels the sun rise back into his hands.

[rosiehunterwolf]

stuck with you (through bright and blue)

Prompts: Protective

Word Count: 4,400

Characters: The squad

Timeline: Pre-movie movie!verse

Trigger Warnings: Manipulation, Toxic Friendship

Summary: Kai only wants two things: to protect Lloyd, and to give him the best birthday ever. Unfortunately, Lloyd seems hell-bent on making that as difficult as possible. Kai’s always prided himself on achieving the impossible, but dealing with human emotions is much more complicated than beating up Garmadon’s generals or shooting enemies with fire, as he quickly learns. Movie!verse

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“Woah, it looks like a massacre in here.”

At the sound of Cole’s voice, Kai, Jay, Lloyd, and Zane looked up from the map they had sprawled out across the table. Red pen was everywhere, circling different buildings and connecting them with lines.

“We’re having trouble finding a venue for Lloyd’s party,” Zane explained.

Nya rolled her eyes. “It’s not that hard! Just pick somewhere!” She held a hand out, shaking her phone. “We have five days until his birthday. Most places require at least that many to book a reservation. If we don’t decide today, we’ll have nowhere to go.”

“We can’t just pick anywhere,” Kai insisted. “It has to be perfect!”

“Why don’t we just go to the arcade?”

“It’s always so busy there.”

“It’s a Wednesday night! How many people are going to be there?”

“Trust me,” Jay said, “It’s still busy. It always is.”

Cole peered at the map. “Why’d you cross off the movie theater? Isn’t there a new Starfarer movie Lloyd’s been wanting to see?”

Kai shook his head. “Tickets sold out in like five hours. By the time school was over and we got over there, they were all gone.”

Jay frowned, running his fingers along one of the major streets. “What’s your favorite restaurant, Lloyd?”

“A restaurant? Are you serious?” Cole laughed. “We’d get kicked out in ten minutes.”

“Why can’t we just do it at my place?” Lloyd murmured. “I don’t need anything big deal.”

Kai frowned. “Your apartment isn’t that big, Lloyd. And I don’t want to bother your mom with all the decorations and stuff.”

Lloyd shrugged, looking down. “It doesn’t need to be big.”

“If you really want something simple,” Nya said, “why don’t we just do it at the warehouse? It’ll just be us, but there’s lots of space.”

Zane nodded. “That space would suffice. We would just have to ask Master Wu.”

“That is, if you’re certain that’s what you want.” Nya looked at Lloyd closely. “You sure you don’t want to do anything else?”

Lloyd nodded.

“Positive, bud?” Kai pushed. “Because it’s your birthday. We don’t mind at all.”

“I’m fine,” Lloyd insisted, getting to his feet. “It’s just another day on the calendar. Don’t make such a big fuss.”

The ninja fell silent.

“Lloyd,” Nya murmured, “it is a big deal to us.”

“Sorry. I’m just tired. And I’ve got homework. I should go.”

“Lloyd, wait-”

The green ninja pulled away from Kai’s outstretched hand. “I’m fine, Kai. I just have to go. Call me if you need anything.”

---

When they went back to school on Monday, their teachers loaded them with assignments, and Kai didn’t have a spare minute to talk to Lloyd in their shared classes. He couldn’t even talk at lunch because Lloyd had to make up a test. He kept his eyes peeled for his friend every time he was in the hallways, but if there was one thing Lloyd was good at, it was not being seen.

At the end of the school day, Nya texted him to meet up near their lockers. He got there and found her huddled around her locker with Cole, Jay, and Zane.

Kai walked over to them. “What’s going on? Where’s Lloyd?”

“He said he’d catch up with us later, which is why now is the perfect time for party preparation,” Jay said, gesturing towards Nya, who had a fiercely determined look on her face and was tightly clutching a clipboard. “Apparently she’s been waiting her whole life for this.”

“Alright.” Nya looked up from her clipboard. “I’ve already got streamers and gift wrap at home. What about you guys?”

“I’ve got a banner ordered with his name on it,” Cole said. “And of course, the shark tablecloths-”

Jay blinked. “Sharks?”

“Yeah. He loves sharks.”

“No, no, no, you’ve got it all wrong! We’re getting the dragon ones! He loves dragons!”

“Well, yeah, duh, but he’d obviously like the shark one better.”

“Are you kidding? Sharks would remind him of his dad’s mechs!” “Yeah, well, dragons remind him of his mech, which also reminds him of fighting his dad.”

“Totally not the same, plus dragons are way cooler-”

“Okay, we’re going with the Starfarer ones, then,” Nya grumbled. “What about balloons? Who’s covering-”

“I have balloons,” Zane interrupted. “Two hundred and seventy-five of them.”

They gawked at him.

“Zane… why do you have so many balloons just lying around?” Jay asked.

“They are new! In the package! I can blow them up for Lloyd’s birthday party-”

“Shhhhh!” Four pairs of hands immediately pushed over his mouth, silencing him, even though they were the only ones in the very empty hallway.

“No one can find out,” Cole insisted. “This is Lloyd’s special day. We’re not about to let anyone ruin it.”

“Okay, so Zane’s got the balloons.” Nya ticked another item off the list. “What about the cake? I have most of the ingredients to make one at home, but I’m completely lacking the baking skills.”

Cole nodded. “I can bake a cake. What’s his favorite kind?”

“Lloyd likes that Funfetti one,” Kai murmured.

Cole’s nose wrinkled. “I’m not baking a box mix. I can get him the rainbow sprinkles, though, and make a homemade one.”

“Okay, sounds good. Jay, could you pick up some confetti before his birthday? And Zane, we need some fun paper plates.”

“Zane, you should get shark ones.”

“No, dragons!” “Zane will pick out whichever plates he likes,” Nya snapped.

“What about gifts?” Jay asked. “What are you guys getting?”

“I’m not telling you,” Nya yelped. “I have the best gift ever and I don’t want you stealing any ideas.”

“I’ve been setting aside pieces of my allowance for a month,” Cole grinned. “It’s gonna be sweet.”

Jay blinked at him expectantly, and Cole smirked. “I’m not telling you, either, blabbermouth.”

“Blabbermouth?” he yelped. “I can keep secrets perfectly fine, thank you.”

“Oh yeah? What about that time you nearly gave away all of our ninja identities?”

“Or-” Zane added, “when he and Lloyd were working on those surprise mech upgrades and he accidentally said something in front of Kai and Nya?”

“Oh, remember when he spoiled the finale of Cole’s favorite show?” Nya grinned. “Cole was pissed.”

“Okay, okay, so there were a few times,” Jay spluttered. “But those were a while ago! I have many more secrets that I have kept than I haven’t.”

Cole crossed his arms, smirking. “Name one.”

“Well, there was that one time, where I- hey!” He stopped, glaring at Cole. “You’re trying to trick me into telling you a secret!”

“And it very nearly worked. So no. You can’t know.”

Nya shrugged. “Sorry, Jay. He’s right. When you have a secret, you get nervous. And when you’re nervous, you talk. A lot. It would only be a matter of time before you spilled everything to Lloyd.”

“Fine,” Jay muttered. “Keep your secrets.”

Kai jumped slightly as Nya elbowed him, and she frowned. “You okay? You’ve been really quiet.”

Kai shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Is it just me, or… did Lloyd seem like he doesn’t really want a birthday party?”

The others went quiet.

“We’re not going to not give him a party,” Nya insisted. “You know how he gets. He never wants anyone to make a fuss.” Her brow furrowed. “It’s like he still can’t get it into his skull that we care about him.”

“I mean, of course I want to, it’s just… we can’t force him to do anything he doesn’t want.” Kai bit his lip. “It’s been a rough past few months for him. I just want him to be happy.”

“We all do,” Cole agreed. “Lloyd deserves a night just about him, for once.”

Zane frowned. “But how are we supposed to give him the party that he wants if he won’t tell us what he wants?”

“Let me try to talk to him,” Kai said. “He might open up more if it’s just one of us there.”

---

Lloyd, in fact, did not want to talk.

He was more open during their classes the next day, and held casual conversation with him, but forcefully avoided the topic of his birthday whenever Kai brought it up.

He huffed with frustration. What kind of kid didn’t want to celebrate their birthday? He wished Lloyd would just tell him what was going on.

He wasn’t going to, though, so naturally, the next best thing was to follow him.

He wouldn’t call it spying- just finding another way of obtaining information when Lloyd refused to give it himself. Besides, he was doing this to help Lloyd, not to hurt him.

Kai jerked himself out of his thoughts as Lloyd nearly slipped from his view. He gritted his teeth, refocusing on him. Lloyd wasn’t an easy person to follow, either.

When he finally caught up to him, keeping a reasonable distance, of course, Lloyd was hovering near his locker. An unfamiliar, dark-haired kid was leaning against it, laughing at something as Lloyd smiled uneasily. Kai edged closer, his frown deepening.

“Where’s the spike head? And the rest of your gang?”

“Kai?” Lloyd shifted. “I dunno. He probably had homework and stuff to do.”

The guy shrugged. “I kind of found him annoying, anyway. You realize no one could ever get to you when your friends were around, right?”

“I guess that’s… kind of the point.”

“You can’t spend your whole life letting them protect you. If you block out any person who hurts you, you block out anyone who could potentially be a friend, too.” The guy smiled in a way that made Kai wanted to chuck himself between Lloyd and the guy.

“That’s… that’s the thing. No one wants to be nice to me.”

“Spare me the sob story,” the guy rolled his eyes. “I know your dad sucks, but at least you have one.”

Lloyd flinched. “Sorry.”

The guy laughed, putting a hand on his shoulder and shoving him. “Stop being so jumpy, will ya? No wonder kids pick on you, you’re as harmless as a flea.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Lloyd blinked. “I can’t hit them back, or I’ll be in more trouble than I already am.”

“You don’t need to hit them, just show them you’re not a total coward! Maybe if you actually listen to them instead of cringing away, things might change.”

“Listen to them? Are you saying they’re right?”

“What does it matter if they’re right? Look, Lloyd, you���ve already got it hard enough as it is, and you’re making everything more difficult. You’d be so much cooler if you actually hung out with important people and not the outcast-losers you’ve stationed yourself with.”

For the first time since the conversation had started, Lloyd appeared indignant. “They’re not- I mean, you’re not-”

The guy laughed. “See? You can’t even get a word out. You’re so pathetic. You don’t even need the fact that you’re Garmadon’s son to get picked on, you already got it all set up for the torment-”

Kai wasn’t aware of himself pushing forward, he just was, and suddenly he was gripping the guy by the collar of his shirt, a pair of wide, brown eyes staring fearfully up into his.

“Who do you think you are and what the hell are you doing?”

“I… um, I…” the guy swallowed, his throat running dry.

“You treating my best friend like a piece of shit?” Kai shook him. “Are you?”

“I’m sorry!” The guy squirmed. “I didn’t really mean it, we were just joking around, he says that kind of stuff to me all the time!”

“Really? Lloyd. Says that. You sure we’re talking about the same person? Because I do not take nicely to liars.”

The guy squirmed harder. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry! Just please let me go, I’ll never bother you again!” Kai shot him the fiercest glare he could muster. “You better not.” He stepped back, dropping the kid, and he took off like a bullet.

Turning back to Lloyd, he saw his friend was staring at the fleeing boy with wide, disbelieving eyes, but it quickly dissipated to anger as he turned to Kai. “What the heck did you do that for?”

Kai’s eyes widened. “I was protecting you? From a bully?” Lloyd’s eyes flashed, and Kai actually took a step back. “I don’t need you to protect me! I can fight my own battles!”

Before Kai could even say anything, Lloyd was storming down the hallway and disappearing around the corner.

Kai just stood there for a moment, in shock. What was that all about? Hadn’t he done the same thing for Lloyd a dozen times? Why would defending him ever be bad?

A buzz in his pocket interrupted his thoughts. Kai pulled out his phone to see a new message in the chat from his sister.

irondragonfangirl: how r things going with lloyd

MasterofFiyaaaaa: honestly? i think i made it worse

irondragonfangirl: well u better find a way to fix it soon because his bday’s TOMORROW

MasterofFiyaaaaa: yeah i’ll find a way through to him

MasterofFiyaaaaa: i just hope he listens

irondragonfangirl: don’t worry

irondragonfangirl: he will

irondragonfangirl: just make sure u remember to listen to him too

irondragonfangirl: i have a feeling we haven’t been doing that enough

irondragonfangirl: i feel terrible

MasterofFiyaaaaa: yeah me too

MasterofFiyaaaaa: we’ll make it up to him though

MasterofFiyaaaaa: right?

irondragonfangirl: sure as long as cole doesn’t burn this cake

irondragonfangirl: seriously y did we let him bake it

irondragonfangirl: if i dont respond in the next hour just assume his house burnt down and im dead

MasterofFiyaaaaa: can i have your motorcycle if you die

irondragonfangirl: shut up

---

Kai spent an hour looking for Lloyd after their confrontation, but he couldn’t find him anywhere, and Lloyd, unsurprisingly, hadn’t answered any of the twenty-some texts Kai had sent him, either. Eventually, he had to give up looking for him and resigned to speaking to him at school tomorrow.

His birthday.

In the first class they had together, Lloyd avoided looking at him, and Kai felt an ache in his chest. Today was his birthday. He knew things weren’t going to turn out like he had imagined, but he wanted them to at least be better than this.

Swallowing back his nerves, Kai walked over to him, where he was doodling something in his notebook.

Kai cleared his throat. “Um. Lloyd?”

Lloyd looked up, an expression flashing across his face that Kai couldn’t read, but he didn’t immediately leave or turn away from him, which Kai took as a good sign.

“Happy birthday, dude.”

Lloyd smiled tentatively back. “Thanks.”

Things didn’t go immediately back to normal after that- there was still a tension between them, and Lloyd wasn’t saying much more than a couple sentences at a time, firmly avoiding the topic of the previous day- but at least it was back to a level where Kai didn’t feel absolutely horrible for ruining his day. Lunch, at least, got a smile out of him- as well as a bunch of embarrassed blushing as Nya stabbed a candle into his brownie (they couldn’t actually light it, lighters weren’t allowed on campus) and they insisted on singing to him so off-key that Cole looked like he wanted to punch them.

When the last bell finally rang, Kai headed over to Lloyd’s locker, hoping they could talk now that there weren’t other kids around, but he wasn’t there.

Kai relented, pulling out his phone.

MasterofFiyaaaaa: Lloyd? i know youre upset but can we plz talk?

He held his breath, staring at the screen intensely, as if that would make Lloyd respond.

While he was waiting, a message from a group chat popped up.

irondragonfangirl: what’s taking so long jay, we need those decorations

jaybird123: eta 5 mins

jaybird123: i literally just left class how’d you get there so fast

jaybird123: wait you didn’t use the tunnels did you

irondragonfangirl: no me and cole are bringing the CAKE remember?

irondragonfangirl: im not taking that through the tunnel

irondragonfangirl: we didnt spend 3 hrs on that for it to get squished

irondragonfangirl: i told the nurse i wasn’t feeling well so i could go home early

irondragonfangirl: why didnt YOU take them

jaybird123: i couldn’t exactly discreetly smuggle all these decorations into my locker

jaybird123: mmm cake. is it good?

irondragonfangirl: don’t even THINK about it, that’s not until Lloyd gets here

jaybird123: but im hungryyyy

jaybird123: do i need to pick up anything for dinner?

rock’n’cole: nah it’s cool, we just found out lloyd’s favorite chinese restaurant, the Bamboo Dragon, delivers so we’re gonna order from there

jaybird123: my mouth is watering already

ZaneJulien:0xD;): Jay, you shouldn’t text while driving.

jaybird123: tell nya to get off my case then!

irondragonfangirl: exCUSE me zane you are supposed to be putting up those balloons right now why are YOU on your phone

ZaneJulien:0xD;): Why are you texting me? We are in the same room.

irondragonfangirl: why are YOU texting ME

rock’n’cole: would you guys just stop being dumb and come help me

irondragonfangirl: great now you got cole in on it too

rock’n’cole: would you two just GET OFF YOUR PHONES

Kai was interrupted from whatever turn the conversation was going to take next when he finally got another notification.

thegreendragon: ok. you know where i’ll be

Kai blinked, turning towards the doors and pushing through them, walking out onto the school lawn. The main feature was the football stadium, although there were other things as well- large trees, garden patches for the science classes, picnic tables for eating lunch outside, if the weather permitted. And- although the students were too old for recess, now- there was still a small swing set- a simple, rusty thing, with only two swings, but it served its purpose. Sitting on one of them, gently rocking, was Lloyd.

Kai made his way over, sitting down beside him in the other swing.

“So, uh… can we talk? About yesterday?”

Lloyd nodded, and Kai titled his head at him, trying to gauge his thoughts. “Who was that kid?”

Lloyd breathed out slowly. “His name is Brad. He was my best- and only- friend in elementary school, but we were separated when I moved away. Brad’s family just recently moved to Ninjago City, and I… I was hoping to reconnect with him.”

Kai ignored the twinge of jealousy at the words “best friends.” Lloyd was allowed to have other people than him in his life, and things had obviously changed since then, anyway.

“I’m sorry, Lloyd. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything, but from what I saw… Brad was being a jerk to you.”

Lloyd shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah, I… he’s changed since we were kids. The efforts at rekindling our friendship honestly aren’t going so well. That’s… that’s why I was in a bad mood. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. You were only trying to do something nice for me.” “Don’t worry about me. But this Brad kid… anyone who treats you like that doesn’t deserve to be your friend.”

“I know, I just…” Lloyd sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “I was so eager to make a friend other than you guys…” His eyes widened as he processed his own words. “Not there’s anything wrong with you guys, it’s just- I just wanted to actually earn someone who wasn’t friends with me because of a shared occupation.”

Kai elbowed him. “Hey. This whole ninja thing may be what got us introduced to each other, but we’re not friends with you because you’re one of the ninja. We’re your friends because we love you as a person. As Lloyd, not the green ninja.”

Lloyd sniffed, giving him a soft smile. “Thanks, Kai. I’m glad I have you to protect me.”

“You don’t need protection, but you’re stuck with me as a best friend, so you’re going to get it, anyway.”

Lloyd laughed. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

His phone buzzed, and he quickly checked it.

irondragonfangirl: the party’s all set up, now the only thing missing is lloyd. did you get to talk to him?

MasterofFiyaaaaa: yeah, we’re cool now. on our way

Kai turned back to Lloyd. “C’mon, green machine. Let’s go enjoy your birthday.”

Lloyd blinked at him. “Huh?”

“Your party, remember? The one Nya and the guys have spent the whole week planning? Or is there some other celebration I don’t know about?”

Lloyd shook his head. “No, no, it’s just- I thought I messed it all up.”

“Don’t worry, we got it under control.”

“Really?”

“This is our teammates you’re talking about! Stubborn as mules. They’re not giving up on you that easily.”

“I… thank you. Thank you guys.”

“You can tell them yourself. We’re going to this party, and we’re going to have fun!”

---

Kai had to admit, he was impressed with what the others had been able to pull off in such a short amount of time.

It was nothing huge or extravagant, but it was a nice little party, and Lloyd seemed to like it better like that, anyway.

They were barely through the doors of the warehouse when Jay was launching himself into Lloyd’s arms, pulling him into a tight hug, the others close behind.

“Happy birthday!” they cheered.

Lloyd hugged them back, laughing. “Thanks, guys, I didn’t- I didn’t expect all this!”

“Are you kidding?” Nya put her hands on her hips, grinning. “We’re pulling out all the stops for our baby bro.”

Lloyd’s smile briefly flickered to a scowl. “I’m not a baby.”

“To us, you always will be,” Kai said, slinging an arm around his shoulders and ruffling his hair. Lloyd squirmed away, although he was unable to hide the grin on his face.

“Wow, this place really looks different.” Lloyd gazed around at the warehouse with wide eyes. They had pushed aside training equipment to make room for tables and chairs, and green and gold streamers decorated the walls, adorned by multicolored balloons. Someone had plugged a gaming console into the TV, as well as a DVD player next to a box of DVDs- which must’ve been Jay’s, he was the only person Kai knew, apart from Master Wu, who even had DVDs anymore- because Kai still hadn’t been able to convince Master Wu to buy them Netflix on the warehouse’s TV, getting the TV there in the first place had been hard enough as it was. On the far end was a buffet table, filled with rice, chicken, dumplings, and other Chinese staples from the Bamboo Dragon- as well as a beautiful, heavily frosted cake in the center of it all. It was decorated with rainbow sprinkles, making it completely and uniquely Lloyd.

Lloyd’s eyes were on the cake too, his eyes wide. “Cole! It looks amazing! I never knew you were so good at making cakes!”

Cole shrugged, trying to hide his smile. “I’ve had some experience.”

“Hey! What makes you think Cole made it?” Nya sniffed.

Cole blinked. “I did.”

“Well, I helped.”

Cole snorted. “Don’t know if you could call it that. From my point of view, it seems like I was doing most of the work while you were busy texting your boo.”

Both Nya and Jay turned scarlet.

“I was not,” Nya spluttered. “I was making preparations for Lloyd’s party!” “Yeah, yeah, whatever you have to tell yourself.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions too hastily,” Jay said, turning to walk over to the cake. “The true judge of quality will be how good it tastes.”

Nya stuck an arm in front of him. “Not so fast, mister! Dinner first.”

After laughing, playing games, and eating, they insisted on opening presents. Lloyd was all smiles and gratitude with each one, which ended up sparking a debate between the others about whose gift he liked best.

“He totally loved my gift!” “Nuh-uh! Did you see the way he smiled a little differently on mine?”

“Jay, you literally gave him a book. Why would he be excited about that?”

“Not just any book! A first edition Starfarer collector’s comic from when my parents were kids, and in mint condition, too!”

“Why would you want some dusty old comic when you could have the newest Starfarer video game?” Kai argued. “It took forever for me to find one of these, they were sold out everywhere.”

“Starfarer this, Starfarer that,” Cole sighed. “I don’t understand how he could possibly need any more Starfarer things. The record I engraved for him is way more personable and unique.”

“You guys are thinking about this all wrong! You should’ve gotten him a katana like me, something that he actually needs and uses.”

“Statistically, Lloyd spends more time drawing than any other hobby,” Zane said. “Which means my gift of an art book and new set of pencils is logically the best fit.”

“Clearly you guys all have it wrong in the head-”

“Guys, relax,” Lloyd laughed. “I loved all your gifts equally.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Jay… it means exactly what you think it means.”

“You can’t even pick one gift?”

Lloyd shook his head. “No way. These are all amazing. Thank you, guys. Really.” His gaze met Kai’s for a long beat. “For everything.”

“Of course. But, just to make things clear, you did like mine the most, right? You’re just saying you liked them equally, so that you didn’t make the others feel bad?”

Lloyd smacked his forehead as the others burst into protest again, and Kai shot him a sharp-edged grin. “I can do this all night.”

Eventually, Lloyd got them to stop bickering- the mention of cake got them all quiet pretty quickly- and after divvying it up, they went over to the couch and played the video game Kai had gotten him. He quickly lost track of time, but time didn’t matter. Even if it meant they would be tired for school the next day, seeing Lloyd like this- half sprawled over his teammates, brow scrunched in concentration as he mashed buttons on his controller, hints of frosting on his lips as he tried and failed miserably to bite back his laughter- it was worth it. He looked happier than Kai had seen him in weeks.

For that, he could even contain himself from bragging about how Lloyd obviously liked his gift best.

[avengersassemble-fics]

Stark's Girl

part 015/015 "the real hero"

previous part

masterlist

word count nearly 9k whoops

an: okay so... this is long and honestly... be prepared for an ending that took me days to write. i do not take any ownership on dialogue/scenes used from endgame, and i tried to make it original as well... anyways, here's the final part, and i can't wait to see what y'all think of the ending :3 oop i cried three times in this so be ready.

Was this actually going to work? Were the Avengers really about to get everyone back? According to Tony.. No. There were too many factors against it.

You tried to talk to him about it that night, but Tony avoided the conversation like the plague. By the morning Tony had disappeared and you were set to head back to the Compound that evening. You hadn’t heard from anyone if they had gotten anywhere beyond Tony’s involvement but it raised the question.. Who would even be able to make it work besides him? Hank Pym had been blipped, and as far as you knew this must be outside of Banner’s expertise. Tony was avoiding you, and that bugged you.

You understood the hesitation, but you knew how tore up he was about losing the Parker kid, even to this day. Morgan and Pepper were his world, this was his fresh start, so if it didn’t work then it was all for nothing. But what if it did? Then everyone would be back, and things would go back to how they were.

You zipped your bag shut and reached for your phone that laid on the bed. There were no new messages and you couldn’t help but sigh when there was a light tap on the door frame behind you. You glanced over your shoulder before tossing your phone into the bag and picking it up, and facing your brother fully. “Look who decided to say goodbye.”

“Got everything?” Tony asked and motioned his hands. “Clothes, toiletries-”

“I have everything,” you reassured him. “Was that all or.. Do you wanna talk about it?”

Tony sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets. You dropped your bag to the floor and sat down on your bed, and pat the spot next to you. Tony pushed himself off the door frame and ended up by your side, and you hit him with your shoulder. “Go on old man.”

“I hate it when you call me that,” Tony grumbled before he sighed and looked at you. “I just don’t see it working. And I can’t risk losing all of this.”

“I get that Tony, I really do,” you replied. You slid closer to him and snaked your arm through his and rested your head against his arm. “What you have here it’s.. Well I haven’t seen anything like it since mom and dad.”

“But you want me to figure it out,” Tony said. You sighed and looked up at him.

“I just.. I want to know if you really think it won’t work.”

Tony sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know.”

“It’s never been explored, I get that,” you told him. You unlatched yourself from his side and stood, and grabbed your bag before placing a hand on your brother's shoulder. “I have to get back and see what they’ve come up with though.”

Tony placed his hand over yours and gave you a tight squeeze. He spent the rest of the day with one question on his mind.

Would it work?

When you got back to the Compound the sun was nearly setting, and you sat in your car after switching the engine off. You pulled out the velvet box from your bag and ran your thumb over the top a couple times before pushing the lid open and staring at the contents. The ring inside still had a gleam to it, and you smiled a bit at it. You snapped the box shut and got out the car with your bag in tow, and headed inside. There was a strange brown van parked in the large hangar that made you slow your pace a bit, but you shook it off and continued on your way to the common room. As you got closer you could hear more and more chatter, and prepared yourself for what you were about to walk in on.

“I only have enough Pym particles for a few more goes,” you could hear Scott saying. “So I hope you were able to figure it out.”

“I got it down.. Mostly,” another voice said. It sounded almost like.. Banner?

When you came around the corner you were met with what looked like equations, workarounds, and everyone’s back to you. You had heard about “Professor Hulk” (that’s what his students called him at least) but you hadn’t seen Banner since after the blip. It was definitely, well, something. You came to a halt and couldn’t help but smile. “I see you guys have made progress since I saw you.”

Everyone turned around and Natasha approached with a smile. “Did he come around?”

“No,” you admitted. “He has a family now Nat, they mean the world to him.. And he doesn’t think it’ll work.”

“Well,” Nat looked back at Banner before he moved out of the way. “We might have a start.”

Bruce (Hulk?) explained everything. Tomorrow they would attempt time travel by sending Scott back to the 1950’s, and pull him right back. He said it would be easy, and checked his work multiple times to prove it. It sounded plausible, but until the morning no one would really know if it could work. Your nerves were shot at just the thought of it, and decided to make yourself some tea. You weren’t a huge fan, so as you dipped your tea bag into the hot water of your mug, the smell made you shake your head.

“You should try adding some honey.”

You glanced up from your mug at Steve walking into the kitchen. He stopped at a cabinet and pulled out a container filled with golden honey. He made his way to your side and set it on the counter, and you graciously took it and swirled some of it into the steaming cup. You lifted the cup to your lips and took a small sip, and turned to rest your hip against the counter and face Steve. “You think it’ll work?”

“It has to,” Steve said. His hand came up to rub one of your arms. “We owe it to everyone we lost to at least try.”

You nodded at his words and tapped your mug lightly in thought, and something surged through you. You set the mug down and reached into your pocket and pulled out the velvet box he had given you just days prior. Steve felt his heart stop at the sight, and his stomach twisted as you placed it on the counter between you both.

“I know you said you’d give me as much time as I needed, but.. I don’t need time to decide my answer.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve mumbled. “I guess I read too much into things-”

“Steve,” you cut him off from even finishing that thought. You placed your right hand up on his cheek, and Steve met your gaze. “The answer is yes.”

“Yes?” He asked quietly, and you nodded.

“Yes,” you repeated, and couldn’t help but giggle when a smile spread over his face. Steve pulled you into his arms like you were going to disappear right in front of him. When he set you back down you watched as he grabbed the velvet box and opened it, and pulled the ring out. He gently grabbed your left hand and as he slid the ring onto your finger, it felt like both of you weren’t breathing. You held your hand up to look at the gold band and diamond on your finger, and Steve’s smile fell.

“Are you okay?”

You met his gaze again and nodded. “I just never thought this would ever happen for someone like me.”

Admitting that to him felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. Steve’s look turned more understanding and he took your hand and placed a chaste kiss to your fingers. He pulled you into his embrace and your arms wrapped around his waist and head laid on his chest, while his arms held your body close. You had the sneaking suspicion the last few months that Steve did know what had been running through your mind, and this felt like confirmation. Your confession was absolute, and Steve understood it. And he would spend everyday making sure you knew you were worth it until the end.

It was the first night you spent together, welcoming one another’s embraces in a quiet and tender moment. To you, you had felt like it would be one of the last quiet moments before finding out if time travel was possible, because from there it would be non-stop until they got everyone back. You knew it, and Steve did too. One last night of quiet, then one last time saving the world. So Steve took residence in your room once more, sharing your bed and holding you so you knew you were worth this.

The next morning came too soon, peeking through your shades until FRIDAY opened them higher like you had scheduled. Steve traced his fingers up and down your arm that draped across him for awhile before duty called. Begrudgingly you both changed and went to the hangar hand in hand, only separating when you got in view of everyone. Natasha though never misses anything.

“Good morning love birds,” she quipped while typing away on a computer near Banner. As you two neared you came to her side and nudged her with your arm gently to take over.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied back and met Steve’s gaze with a little smile.

“The ring on your finger says different,” she threw back your way. Banner looked down over the exchange and saw what Natasha had been talking about.

“What? Since when!” He asked.

“Recently,” Steve offered. Banner tapped his rather large hand on your back and shot a finger Steve’s way.

“I always knew you two would work it out, congratulations.”

“Speaking of working out,” Natasha cut in. “Are we ready?”

“Almost there,” Banner said as he worked on a couple more calculations. “I’m going to go over this with (Y/N).. Cap do you mind setting the breakers and getting the emergency generators ready just in case?”

“Got it,” Steve said. With one final glance between you both he casted a smile and walked back into the compound. Banner hovered over your shoulder and walked you through the equations running through the sequence, and also working in the Pym particles into that. You followed it for the most part, but for some reason something didn’t add up, you just couldn’t put your finger on it. Tossing caution to the wind (you weren’t a genius like Banner was of course) the sound of footsteps echoed in the hangar, and Steve made his way back.

“Alright, here we go. Time travel test number one. Scott you can fire up the uh, the van thing,” Banner instructed. Scott, in what looked like a retro Ant Man suit, powered up the Quantum tunnel and you double checked Banner’s work.

“Breakers are set, emergency generators are on standby,” Steve said as he walked back to your and Natasha’s side.

“Good. ‘Cause if we lose the grid I don’t want to lose Tiny here in the 1950’s,” Banner said lightly. Everyone’s gaze went to him in shock.

“Excuse me?” Scott asked from near the van.

“He’s kidding!” Natasha told him, before turning and whispering to the group. “You can’t say things like that!”

“Yeah, just a bad joke!” Banner said loudly for Scott, and offered him a thumbs up. Scott nodded hesitantly and smiled nervously.

“You were kidding right?” You asked. Banner lowered his voice again.

“I have no idea. We’re talking about time travel here. Either it’s all a joke or none of it is,” Banner explained, though it didn’t calm any of your hesitations. Banner looked back to Scott and gave him a nod. “We’re gonna send you back a week, let you walk around an hour, then bring you back in 10 seconds. Make sense?”

“Perfectly not confusing,” Scott tried to level with humor.

“Good luck, Scott. You got this,” Steve offered in encouragement which Scott gave a more confident smile.

“You’re right. I do, Captain America.”

You met Scott’s gaze for a moment before giving him a nod of approval, and with Banner’s direction you pressed a button and Scott disappeared into the tunnel. Silence fell over the group, and you exchanged glances with Steve, who put his hand on the small of your back. Banner, with his arms crossed keeping track of time on his abnormally large watch gave you a nod.

“On the count of three. Three.. Two.. One!”

In the same sequence as before you pressed the button and the Quantum Tunnel spit a figure back out… But it was not the same one you sent in. They were younger, and your heart dropped as Banner moved you out the way.

“Guys? Uh this doesn’t feel right,” the teen said, and everyone’s attention shot to Banner.

“What is this?” Steve asked.

“Who is that?” Natasha asked next and Banner mumbled to himself.

“Jesus, is that Scott?” You asked this time and Banner huffed.

“Yes, it’s Scott!” Banner exclaimed. Before anyone could get a grasp on the situation, Banner hit buttons and teen Scott was sucked back into the Quantum Tunnel, only for an older man to be spit back out.

“My back,” the old Scott said and Steve shuffled next to you to face Banner fully.

“Can you bring him back?” Steve asked and Banner tapped the buttons furiously.

“I’m working on it!”

Tensions were high as old Scott got sucked back in and in a flash another body was spit out. The Ant-Man suit had fallen to the floor and inside was..

“It’s a baby,” you said matter of factly.

“It’s Scott,” Banner countered.

“As a baby!” Nat said again, matter of factly.

“He’ll.. Grow,” Banner offered and Steve shook his head.

“Bring Scott back!” Steve ordered. And Banner looked to Natasha and motioned to the generators.

“When I say kill the power, kill the power,” he instructed her. Natasha nodded before rapidly walking towards the generator and grabbing a hold of the lever. You came up by Banner’s side again to see what he was doing and he pointed at Nat. “Kill it!”

Nat pulled the power and out shot regular Scott, which made everyone sigh in relief. Scott, on the other hand, stood there in disbelief and admitted something quietly. “Somebody peed my pants.. But I don’t know if it was baby me or old me.”

You glanced Steve’s way and offered a sad smile. Tony was right, this wasn’t going to work. Natasha came back to the group and mumbled a thank god, while Steve wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

It wasn’t going to work. It was a grim thought, and everyone got their hopes up for nothing. Though Banner still tried to remain optimistic, and threw his hands up in triumph.

“Time travel!” Banner exclaimed, only earning a few shakes of the head. Steve motioned his head in a direction and off you two went, leaving behind Nat and Banner, and Scott who didn’t know what to do about his situation.

Steve had led you outside into the sunlight, where he removed himself from your side and let you walk out of the shade and close your eyes. He felt defeated, and took a seat on a hard surface and casted his gaze to the ground.

There was no victory, not even an opportunity for it. He had to once again come to terms with the fact he would never see Bucky again, or Sam, or Wanda. Wakanda would never get their King or Princess back, and the kid from Queens would never get to step foot back in the city. Steve was so lost in thought he nearly missed what you said.

“Holy shit,” you said out loud. Steve averted his gaze back to you, only to see what you had referred to. A car was fast approaching, and he knew just who was behind the wheel. Steve was by your side before the car came to a halt before you and the window rolled down.

“Why the long faces?” Tony asked.

You couldn’t help the smile that broke out over your face. There would only be one reason why Tony would come here (voluntarily)... He figured it out.

“Let me guess.. Lang turned into a baby,” Tony said and you covered your mouth to hide your grin. Steve nodded beside you and shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Among other things, yeah. What are you doing here?” Steve asked. Tony removed his sunglasses and tossed them onto the passenger seat before stepping out the car. He walked around the back, and opened the trunk.

“That’s the EPR Paradox. Instead of pushing Lang through time, you must’ve pushed time through Lang. It’s tricky, dangerous even. Somebody should’ve cautioned you on it,” Tony went on explaining. Steve smiled a bit and nodded at him.

“You did,” Steve admitted and Tony put his hand over his chest, acting shocked.

“Did I? Well thank God I’m here,” Tony replied while fishing something out of his pocket. It looked like a funky little watch, which he promptly tossed your way and you caught easily. “Regardless, I fixed it. That is a fully functioning Time-Space GPS.”

“Son of a bitch,” you mumbled to yourself looking at the device in your hands.

“And don’t think I didn’t notice that,” Tony pointed from where he was. You looked at where he was pointing and smiled at the sight of the ring on your finger. “I just want peace, if you’re okay with it.”

“Of course I am Tony,” Steve confirmed and Tony sighed as he lowered his voice for the two of you.

“We got a shot at getting these stones, but I gotta tell you my priorities. Bring back what we lost? I hope so, yes of course. Keep what I got?” Tony paused while focused on you and nodded at him. “I have to, at all costs.. and maybe not die trying would be nice.”

“Sounds like a deal,” Steve agreed and offered Tony his hand, and you watched them shake on the promise. Tony pulled one last thing from the trunk of his car and Steve looked uncertain to take it. “Tony-“

“Why? He made it for you,” Tony insisted. And finally.. Steve took the shield once more.

“Looks good, Cap,” you commented, earning one of those looks from Steve and Tony shut his trunk.

“Ew. Please I don’t need to hear that.”

The Compound was about to be bustling once more. It was one of the more festive dinners the Avengers compound had seen in awhile, nearly every seat occupied and chatter among everyone. Pizza was the easier choice for the evening, and you had found yourself looking for a seat near Nat, Tony, and Steve who had engrossed themselves in early talks.

Clint had proven that Tony’s way of time travel worked, though it had taken a couple weeks to get it ready. You learned the calculations for entry points and exits, then re-entry back to the present. It was confusing, but the thought of getting the world back to normal was worth the late night lectures with Tony.

So now it was down to figuring out where and how to get all the stones as they are scattered throughout time. There wasn’t a clear path though, not yet anyway. But as you came up to the trio you could hear them still discussing it.

“I’m so glad we have the Three Stooges figuring this out,” you commented as Steve welcomed you to sit in his lap. Tony tossed a napkin your way and you chuckled before taking a glance around the room. “It’s nice to see all these faces again.”

“Hopefully soon it’s everyone,” Natasha offered. Her hope never died these last five years, and it made you nod in agreement as you bit into your slice of pizza. One of Steve’s hands ran up and down the side of your hip, and everything felt a little more normal.

“Lang only has enough particles for ten round trips, one for each of us,” Tony went on about, though you quickly swallowed the bite of pizza you had to inject.

“What about me-“

“No,” Steve and Tony said in unison. You narrowed your gaze at them both and took an angry bite of your pizza. It was ridiculous that they made the decision you were to stay here and track them on the time heist.

“Thor and Rocket could go for the Reality Stone in 2013,” Steve offered.

“Clint and I can get the Soul Stone, Nebula and Rhodey can handle the Power Stone.. We know where those are in 2014,” Natasha said out loud.

“That still leaves three stones and four of us,” Tony sighed. You shrugged your shoulders and took a bite of the crust you had left.

“I mean if you pick the right year, there’s three stones in New York,” you said off the top of your head. When silence fell among the group and you looked up to see them all staring at you you raised a brow. “What?”

“What did you just say?” Tony asked and you blinked at him.

“I said if you pick the right year there are three stones in New York?” You replied and when everyone still looked confused you sighed. “The wizard had the Time Stone, you guys had the Space Stone aka the Tesseract, and Loki’s scepter had the Mind Stone.”

It was silent, everyone seemed to be processing what you said when Banner came up to the group, but Tony was already in motion. “There’s only one pizza left can I have it-“

“Jolly Green take a look at this,” Tony said as he whipped out a small device and displayed images in the room. His actions made everyone else look on as he moved pictures, air typed words, and took a step back to show everyone. Tony put his hands on his hips and Banner looked surprised.

“Shut the front door.”

“This is it,” Natasha stood and looked on. “This is how we get all the stones in one go.”

For once you were glad to have caught up on all those confidential SHIELD documents on what you had missed.

No..

No no no. No it wasn’t supposed to be like this. This wasn’t supposed to happen, no one was supposed to die.. This was supposed to fix everything, but not this. No.. No it wasn’t true. What Clint was saying couldn’t be true.

He fell to his knees, he had to be picked up from the floor as he recounted what happened. A soul for a soul, he said. It shouldn’t have been the price but it was, he said.

It couldn’t be true.

The thought just ran over and over again in your mind the rest of the day. Everyone had gone to the lake and discussed it more but that one line just kept running over you. Clint insisted there was no other way, there was no give backs.

She bet her life on it.

Tony crafted a gauntlet to house the stones in. He carefully placed each like where Thanos had them originally. He was precise, this was delicate after all. Someone died to make this happen.

Steve was distant. You chalk it up to being focused on the situation at hand.

But who should snap?

Thor offered but was met with (quickly) apprehension from everyone. Tony said he was in no condition to do so, so Bruce said it should be him.

“You saw what those stones did to Thanos. It almost killed him. None of you could survive,” Banner said.

“How do we know you will?” You asked. It was one of the first times you had spoken up in days, and seemed to shock everyone a little bit.

Honestly, you couldn’t handle someone else dying right now.

There was no way to know for sure, but it was time to find out. This time you weren’t letting anyone tell you not to join, and you grabbed the nano suit attachment Tony had made for you. The chest pendant stuck to your shirt and like a second skin it dispersed the suit over your body, leaving your face still exposed.

You came up by Steve’s side and he glanced your way and sighed. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Let me be here for this,” you said lowly. Steve didn't question you again, and strapped his shield tighter to his arm as Scott came to his side and gave him a ready nod.

“FRIDAY do me a favor and activate Barn Door Protocol will you?” tony asked.

Barn Door Protocol was simple. There were protective blast doors that closed the Compound in the event of a catastrophic event. It protected every square inch of the facility-

You get the point by now. It’s in case some shit goes down.

The room got slightly darker, and Tony gave you a nod across the room and both your helmets covered your faces. Tony projected a shield before him and Clint, and you shifted in your place.

This was it: one last mission.

Banner slowly put on the gauntlet, the metal growing over his enlarged hand, and when it fit snugly the stones began to glow and you could see their power begin to surge through him. Suddenly, Banner fell to his knee and grunted in pain.

“Take it off!” Thor hollered.

“No, wait,” Steve called over the chaos. “Bruce you okay?”

“Talk to us, Banner,” you tried to reason over the conflicting voices.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Bruce reassured everyone and even attempted to give a thumbs up. But the scene unfolding told you (and probably everyone) that Bruce was not okay. He screamed in pain, holding his hand that housed the gauntlet and just when you thought he was going to pass out from the pain he was in--

-- He snapped.

Bruce fell to the ground and the gauntlet slid off his hand and Clint kicked it away. Steve rushes to his side and you move to do the same but Tony stops you.

“Don’t move him,” Tony instructed and Bruce gripped onto Steve’s arm.

“Did it work? Bruce asked immediately. Everyone glanced around, unsure if it did or not.

Nothing felt different, nothing screamed yes it worked. Tony iced Bruce’s affected arm and just when the dust was settling-

A bad choice of words. Suddenly everything evaporated around you. Explosions, debris, rock and dirt flying everywhere. Everything was disorienting, nothing truly felt settled for minutes. You weren’t sure how long time had passed, but there was chatter in your ear and you gasped back to life.

“We’re drowning! Does anybody copy? Mayday!” Rhodey’s voice rang a little choppy.

You groaned as you pushed yourself up, feeling the same water building around you. Rhodey, Rocket and Hulk came into view and you forced yourself up, having to crouch because of the fallen pieces of cement. You rushed over as water continued to fill the small cramped area, and came to Bruce’s side.

Your boots cemented themselves to whatever ground you stood on and helped push the cement that was threatening you all. “I got you, big guy.”

See you on the other side, man,” Rhodey said to Rocket who was next to him. The water was quickly rising, and this didn’t feel real.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Bruce and you couldn’t bear the weight, not with the water circling your necks. It was an ironic death, because your life did flash before your eyes. Seeing your parents death, seeing Tony again, that date with Steve where he kissed you in the rain, then the flashes of Siberia, Natasha’s last smile.. You wouldn’t admit this to anyone until much later, but you welcomed this ending.

Suddenly something cupped you all and air rushed around you. The large hand hugged you all carefully, and when they released you the scene of the outside world was a punch in the stomach, but there was no time to reflect. You could see that Purple Titan from this far, and you could also make out the size of his army.

And by the looks of it, Bruce’s snap worked.

Bruce leaped out of Scott’s hand and Rhodey, back in his suit hovered with Rocket, and you landed by his side. The chants of the Wakandan tribes ring in the air, but one voice cuts over the comms in your suit and you clutch your fists.

“Avengers!” Steve calls out.

“Assemble.”

Both forces charge one another, Thanos still on the battlefield pointing his legion on. You had flown in with Rhodey by your side as both sides met in a chaotic middle, and landed before one of the ugly Sakaaran aliens and ricocheting them backwards with the repulsors in your palm. Asgardians, Wakandan forces, wizards, and fellow Avengers fought all around you. Landing by your side, your brother shot another alien backwards past you.

“You alright?” his voice projected into your suit. An alien charged you and you grabbed it around the neck and propelled yourself upwards before using the momentum to slam the body back down to the ground.

“Oh just the usual Tuesday,” you replied before someone landed beside you two.

“Mr. Stark! Hey! Holy cow-” the young kid started. You gave your brother an understanding nod, and flew back up into the air, eyes landing on an incoming Leviathan, heading straight for Clint.

“Anyone have my back with the big space worm?” You asked over the comms, while cycling through the weapon options of your suit quickly.

“I got it!” Scott called over the comms and you took a play out of your brothers book. Scott was charging forward and as the Leviathan came near the forces fighting below, he punched the space worm, and with your charge ready, a small missile shot out from your suit and into a now exposed piece of flesh and exploded the Leviathan. Scott continued on, but in your state of distraction one of the Chitauri from the ground leapt up and pulled your downwards.

Shocked, the alien slammed your back down to the ground, and with a scepter like device flourished downward to pin you. You stopped the scepter just before impacting your chest and huffed and you tried to push them off, but they’re a lot heavier than they look. Before you have time to panic, the alien is thrown off of you, and a couple shots ring through the air.

Standing above you is Bucky Barnes.

Barnes lowers his gun and looks down at you, before offering his exposed vibranium hand for you to take. Without hesitation, you grip his hand and he pulls you up but not without lingering his hand in yours before letting you go, and you give him a nod.

“Thank you,” you tell him. “That’s two I owe you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Barnes replied. Both of your attention is pulled away when chatter erupts in your ears.

“We have incoming!” Someone shouted. Everyone turned their attention above as the looming ship Thanos arrived in began to fire. The same explosions that rocked the Compound hit the ground in the same destructive way, but the wizards (you really needed to learn the correct term for them) began to make shields to cover the people around them. You projected the shield Tony had integrated into these new suits and held it above you while Barnes shot at a couple more aliens who were still attempting to attack.

“Guess that’s only one you owe me,” Barnes said next to you and you let your helmet disappear to look at him fully.

“Did you just make a joke?” You asked and he shrugged.

“I do that sometimes,” he replied and you smiled a bit before your helmet reappeared over your face.

Above, you could just barely make out the Spider kid with the gauntlet being carried away on a Pegasus before you see them get knocked off the winged horse. But there was no telling how to get the ship to stop firing on both forces below, and that started to sit badly in the pit of your stomach. But in near perfect timing, the cannons stopped, and everyone around looked at one another in question (including you and Barnes). Your shield disappeared and the cannons moved to point upwards, and shot into the sky.

“What are they firing at?” You asked over the comms, before FRIDAY answered that something was entering the atmosphere.

In a blazing ball of glory shoots down from the sky and into a part of the ship, straight through, and then back in, all before shooting out as the ship began to crumble below her. You smiled behind your helmet before refocusing on the scene before you.

Get the gauntlet to the brown van, and put an end to Thanos once and for all.

“See you on the other side, Barnes,” you commented to him before shooting back off into the thick of it all. In a matter of seconds Thanos threw his sword towards the brown van and almost in slow motion, the gauntlet is lost in the dirt. You land besides Steve, who seemed to have almost forgot you had been here during this.

“(Y/N)-”

“We can’t let him get that gauntlet again,” you said to him, your eyes trained on your brother who was heading that way. “We can’t lose anyone else.”

Instead of arguing with you, Steve nodded in agreement and he outstretched his hand, and Mjolnir flew into his grasp, his shield on the other arm. Side by side you charged towards Thanos just as he smacked your brother away, Thor arriving at the same time. The two men teamed up to distract Thanos, and you focused your attention on the gauntlet, whose stones shined under the grim that now governed it. You could see Thanos overpower both Thanos and Steve, and with no one else in sight you picked the gauntlet up and back into the air you went. But you didn’t get very far, a large hand grabbing ahold of one of your legs and pulled you backwards, and for the first time you came face to face with the Titan who ruined everything.

Thanos used his free hand to grab a hold of your neck and released your leg, and you felt the metal of your suit dig into your sin as you gasped for air. Thanos looked you over, as if he could see your frightened expression behind your suit, and with his free hand he plucked the gauntlet from you and looked it over. His hand still was tight around your neck, and your vision began to fade before he looked back at you.

“Pathetic,” he muttered to you, before tossing you away. You weren’t sure how far you landed, but the impact shocked your body. You could feel yourself come in and out of consciousness, hazy vision of the dark clouds in the sky moving ever so slightly each time you came too. It wasn’t until the snarl of an Outrider nearing you did you finally find the strength to push yourself up, but before it lunged at you.. It disappeared into the wind like dust.

Pushing yourself up, you watched as all around all of Thanos’ different forces began to crumble away into dust. The Chitauri, the Sakaraans, and the Outriders all disappear before your very eyes in the same manner half the world did five years ago. You pushed yourself forward, over a heap of debris in what seemed like just enough time to see Thanos sit himself down in the middle of an open area. Thunder crackled above, and Thanos crumbled away into dust as well.

It.. It was over. It was really over.

Your helmet disappeared so you could see the spectacle for yourself. The only people still around were the Avengers, and everyone who helped that day (you would call them Avengers as well). You smiled a bit as your eyes landed on Steve who was focused somewhere else, but then he looked around frantically before spotting you. His expression made your chest hurt as you looked to where he had been staring previously.

No..

You could see Tony fall to the ground and people begin to surround him. There was an urgency in each step you took and when someone tried to stop you you pulled your hand from their grasp to get closer. You needed to see your brother, he had to be okay.

He just had to be.

When you finally got to his side you felt your heart stop. Peter was being pulled off the ground by Rhodey, while Pepper took his spot. She was stroking the side of Tony’s face, and whispering something to him you couldn’t hear. You found yourself taking in every detail, but still you couldn’t believe what you were witnessing. Tony stared off into the distance, his body was… It was just completely eaten up from what you knew were the stones. He was the one who snapped, and you shook your head in disbelief.

He was supposed to go home after this.

People looked at you, and Pepper glanced behind to meet your gaze. She held out her hand and you took a heavy step forward, until you kneeled down in front of your big brother… But his eyes held nothing in them anymore. Carefully you grabbed his hand that Pepper wasn’t holding and you gave him a squeeze, not really sure what to say.

With a shaky hand you reached out to stroke the side of his face that wasn’t burned, but your touch did nothing to get a response from him. You could feel the tears fall down your cheeks as you watched him barely breath, and you shook your head.

“I love you so much,” you managed before the sobs in your chest ached to be released. “I love you-”

Just as you were struggling to get the last words out, the light of his arc reactor went out. You gasped lowly as Pepper fell forward to sob into Tony’s shoulder, and someone pulled you off the ground as your sobs were just starting. Steve had pulled you into his embrace as you cried, and the somber feeling carried through everyone else.

You had lost the last piece of family you had left.

Uncertainty. That was the one thing that had settled into your life those days between the battle and Tony’s funeral. Those of you who needed it found yourselves in a hotel in the city, and each of your days blended together in the same way. You slept all day, most of the time waking up and opting to stay in bed and stare ahead.. Your eyes burned, and you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

Steve stayed with you, though it was hard on him. When you first arrived, you nearly immediately got into the bed and under the sheets, and he couldn’t coax you out for two days. He opened the blinds to the windows, but you stared blankly out, and when he came with food you told him you weren’t hungry. He tried to help, but he didn’t know how.

The day before the funeral, when he finally got you to eat oatmeal (even if it was just a couple spoonfuls) and managed to get you into the shower, he tucked you back into bed and you went to sleep once more. He stayed in the room for a while, his own thoughts heavy on his mind, before going to the one person he knew would understand him the most.

When Bucky answered the door, he gave him a sad smile and let him into his room. Steve walked in and stopped in front of the windows overlooking the city, which was now bustling with life again. Bucky came up behind him, and Steve could hear him open the mini fridge in the room and pull something out.

“How is she?” Bucky asked. Steve sighed and turned back to face his friend while crossing his arms.

“I got her to eat a bit, but Buck… I’ve never seen her like this and I.. I don’t know what to do,” Steve admitted. Bucky sat himself on the edge of his bed with a water bottle in his hand and sighed.

“You just have to be there for her, Steve,” Bucky offered. “No matter how long it takes.”

The guilt on his conscience was too much, and Steve nodded in response. He took a seat in the chair across from the bed and rubbed his hands together, all while Bucky took sips from his water and watched him closely. Bucky knew he was holding something back.

“Steve.. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Steve looked up to meet his best friend's gaze, before looking back down to the ground. “I… I don’t think I belong here anymore, Buck.”

Bucky’s brows narrowed as he looked at his friend. Where was this coming from? Hethought you two would’ve worked things out in the five years he was gone, Bucky had only assumed so since Steve was by your side during this.. He thought Steve moved on from this kind of talk. “What do you mean Steve.”

“What if I should go back?” Steve asked him, meeting Bucky’s gaze again. “There’s a way now and… And I saw Peggy-”

“You saw Peggy?” Bucky asked, and Steve gave him a nod. “Steve now think about this… I thought you were over this, I thought you were set on making things right with (Y/N)-”

“I was,” Steve cut him off this time. “But Buck when I saw Peggy… There’s something telling me that… That it was always supposed to be her.”

“Yeah, maybe back then,” Bucky conceded. “But Steve think about now. You’re here for a reason, not back there… I thought you passed this.”

“Maybe I never was,” Steve asserted. Bucky looked over his friend, and he shook his head and stood up again.

“I think you should consider this a lot more than you have… Because there is someone really hurting right now, and she needs you,” Bucky told him. “I don’t know if you two worked it out over these last few years but Steve you need to think about this.”

Tony was… Exceptional. He was what you had always wanted to be when you grew up. And maybe that was more true now than ever.

You found yourself unable to do a lot of things the last few days, including dress yourself for this funeral. You felt sickly, but the cries had drawn themselves out and left you too tired to continue today. You were there for the entirety of Tony’s message to his family, and Steve was still by your side as Pepper set a wreath with an old arc reactor into the lake by their home.

You felt empty. Emptier and more alone than you had ever felt.

When you managed to be alone you had wandered off by yourself to Tonys’ work shed and pried it open. Dust lingered in the air, and you entered slowly with hands shoved into the pockets of the coat you had been wearing. You were chilly, probably getting sick, but you ignored the thought as you turned the light on to see better.

What you had been searching for was staring at you like it had been weeks ago. Slightly discolored, the photo of Tony and you from when you were younger screamed at you of a feeling you’d never feel again. You reached out for it with a shakiness you couldn’t control and grabbed it, and traced your fingers over the glass front before holding it to your chest in an effort to comfort the pain in your heart.

The floor echoed as someone entered, and you wiped the tears from your face as they came up behind you. They didn’t sound like Steve’s footsteps, and you turned to face the person who must’ve followed you out.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Bucky Barnes said to you. You found yourself nodding and looked back down at the photo you were clinging onto.

“Me too,” you admitted quietly. When you met Bucky’s gaze again he looked like he wanted to say something, but Steve came up behind him and the moment was stopped. Steve glanced between you two before refocusing on you, and he cleared his throat.

“Happy has something for you,” Steve admitted and you gave him a nod. Steve waited for you to pass him before Bucky turned his way and gave him a knowing look. Though they hadn’t discussed it since, Bucky hoped Steve had come to his senses.

Things never felt normal for you, not as soon as people seemed to hope it would. You tried to be more.. Enthusiastic. But how could you just be okay after that?

Weeks had passed since the funeral, and you didn’t feel any better. Happy had given you a drive with a message he said Tony had left for you, but you couldn’t seem to bring yourself to listen to it. Not yet, maybe ever. It was hard enough seeing his face plastered on the news, and in depth reporting on the Stark legacy, with people questioning what you would contribute in the family’s wake. Even Steve had asked you about your commitment to one another… You hate to admit it but you told him you couldn’t right now, not with this pain in your heart. He told you he understood. You weren’t sure if he noticed, but you tucked the ring he had given you back into the velvet box, and then away safely.

But things were uneasy between you two, and you did what you always do. When Bruce called with work, you accepted it. Anything to get you mind off the thoughts that ran rampant. There was one last thing that needed to be done: the stones needed to be returned.

You had memorized every detail of Tony’s work when it came to the Quantum portal. Bruce and you had replicated one in record time, and on a sunny day you stood there beside him double checking the trajectories. Steve had volunteered to return the stones, with no arguments from anyone on the matter.

“Now, remember,” Bruce explained to Steve. “You have to return the stones to the exact moment you got them. Or you're gonna open up a bunch of nasty alternative realities.”

“Don’t worry Bruce, clip all the branches,” Steve said as he messed with the com in his ear. You were too focused on the conversations that unfolded, your mind drifting off for a moment before being pulled back with Bruce setting his hand on your back.

“You okay?” He asked, and you nodded and returned to finalizing the jump.

“I’m fine,” you reassured him and looked up to see Bucky and Steve hug for a moment. Steve stepped up onto the platform and the familiar Quantum suit appeared over him. He picked up the case that had all the stones, and Mjolnir as well.

“How long is this gonna take?” Sam asked.

“For him? As long as he needs. For us? Five seconds,” Bruce explained before meeting Steve’s look. “We’ll meet you back here, okay?”

Steve looked at you, with a look on his face you couldn’t quite place. Your stomach felt like it was twisted in a knot, even though he gave a nod and looked back Bruce’s way.

“You bet,” Steve replied.

“Going quantum in three, two, one..” Bruce counted down before Steve disappeared. You intently watched his stream disappear on the monitor you had before you, and Bruce started counting again. “And returning in five, four, three two, one-”

When Steve didn’t reappear you frantically looked for his stream location, only to see it shoot past his return point. “He blew right past his time stamp-”

Bruce moved you out the way and your gaze focused on the empty Quantum portal, and you shook your head a bit. You could hear the conversations around you, but couldn’t quite make out the words being said. All you knew was Steve didn’t come back. When everyone went quiet your attention went to the three men who were focused in the distance, with Sam heading towards a figure who hadn’t been there before.

You stepped off the platform you had been working on and took a few steps in the grass closer to where Bucky was standing and watching whatever was unfolding. You had your disbelief, but that was crumbled the minute you saw Sam take the shield, and you could now make out it was an old man.

When Tony died time had all but warped together.. But what you were seeing right now had felt like the ground was taken out from under you. The older man had stood and shaken Sam’s hand, and when they looked back at Bucky, when you could see those eyes even from this far you stumbled backwards. They were Steve’s eyes.

Confusion… Panic… Hurt. Everything coursed through you at once, and ignoring the calls from whoever tried to get you to stay, to probably talk about it, you turned away from the scene and pulled the arc attachment from your pocket and desperately threw it onto your chest. The suit that you hadn’t worn since the battle appeared out your body, hid your face behind a helmet and you shot off from the ground with only one destination in your mind.

You had never used the fastest flight power Tony’s suits had to offer but you did that day for the first time. You needed to get back to the hotel you had been staying at quickly, and when you landed on the roof and your suit disappeared as you ran for the entrance to the building, you needed to find it.

Out of breath by the time you made it to your room and threw open the door and it shut behind you, you overlooked your room and couldn’t get your mind together. You hurried over to the bedside table you had hidden what you were looking for and pulled it out the housing completely, only to find it empty.

A frantic panic flooded you, and in a matter of minutes you had nearly destroyed the hotel room, overturning every piece of furniture, overlooking every crevice you could find. You rested your back against a wall and breathed heavily, before sliding down and for the first time in weeks, fresh sobs left your body.

Steve Rogers had taken his ring back. And now you were truly alone…

...In 1974, Howard Stark was going to unveil his City of the Future to the world, but was having a hard time coming up with the right words. Tony had interrupted him once, though he couldn’t hold it against the kid, he was only four and Howard worked late nights. With Maria talking about wanting another kid, Howard was doing whatever he could to set them up for success, and here he was, getting ready to record a message for them.

He just needed to get something off his chest, and he leaned back against his desk with his arms crossed before him, and searched his mind for the right words. He tapped his foot lightly before sighing under his breath.

“I’ve never been a man of many words, as crazy as that sounds. But trying to build all of this, I’ve had to put my best foot forward,” Howard started. He touched the model beside him and looked at the camera. “You don’t know it yet but your mother is talking about having another baby, and I’m… I’m looking forward to that, when it happens.

“Tony, you are too young to understand this right now, so I thought I would put it on film for you. I built this for you, and by the looks of it your brother or sister, and some day you two will realize that it represents a whole lot more than just people's inventions. It represents my life's work. This is the key to the future. I'm limited by the technology of my time, but one day you'll figure this out. And when you do, you will change the world.”

Later on Howard would go on to edit this message, just weeks before his death, to include another message. This one would go unheard for years. Until you were ready, this message sat alongside Tony’s on the drive he left for you.

“You turned five this year. When someone told me that I would become a sucker for my little girl, man did they mean it,” Howard chuckled. Something caught his attention off screen, but he looked at the camera he had set up in his study and on a rare occasion he smiled. “With Tony, he became my vision, the reason why I wanted my work to make the biggest impact on the world… So that he would have the best future. But you? You’re my aspiration. And just like Tony, I know you’re going to change the world… If you both sat through these messages, I just want you to know one last thing.

“What is, and always will be, my greatest creation... is you two."

- - - - - - - - - -

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[foli-vora]

worlds collide

A/N: Hi, I’m in my feels tonight so have some angst! (That gif is breaking my fucking heart.)

Pairing: Din Djarin/gn!reader

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: violence, blood, death

+++

Din didn’t know how or when it happened. All he knew was that it did happen. He awoke, however long after the initial blast, in a startle, hand shooting to the beskar covering his face as he pushed himself into a sitting position. People were screaming, running erratic paths through the fire and debris. Stomach lodged firmly in his throat, he looks to his side where he expects to find the Child, his child, tucked up safe in the sack he had fashioned from old pieces of scrap material he found on the Crest.

He whips around in alarm when he finds nothing but ruins. Where was the kid? Why wasn’t he here? Dust coats the gloves covering his hands as he pushes through the remnants of fallen buildings around him, showing away piece after piece of rubble, desperation clawing away at his insides as he continuously comes up empty.

Where was the kid? The kid. Where was the kid?

And then a memory hits him.

Your smile. Not the polite half smiles you would offer others, mere strangers passing by on the streets, no. This smile was all his. The smile that he swears brings the stars he travels through to your eyes. The smile that is seared into his mind, that’s painted across his eyelids every time he finds a small amount of time to rest.

You grin up at him and make a sly little comment about his stiff armour digging into the soft sack carrying the sleeping baby, gently lifting it from across his body and hanging it upon your own, hand automatically rubbing soothing circles over the little lump through the coarse material.

“I told you he wouldn’t wake,” you shoot him a smirk, walking further ahead to admire the various materials and trinkets laid across tables throughout the market.

He pauses, coming to a stop between the bustling patrons, taking a moment to watch you. Watch the way you tread between the buyers, the way your hand automatically cradles the sack protectively if someone pushes too close, the way your eyes soak up each new object and entity you encounter with eager, curious eyes.

You notice the absence of his intimidating presence only a few steps ahead and turn to him questioningly. Tilting your head, you smile inquisitively, taking a small moment of your own to admire him and the incredible gleam of his armour against the bright backdrop of colourful banners and busying shoppers.

Peace.

That’s what he had felt in that moment. And though you had never seen him without the heavy helmet covering his face, he knew you saw him. In more than the physical sense. But where did it go wrong? When did the peace meet its end? When did it melt into the overwhelming sense of loss he feels now?

Your eyes flicker to something over his shoulder, brows pinching together. The immediate sense of dread that crashes over him the second your eyes widen in fear has him moving instantly, not caring about what’s there, what you’re seeing – just filled with the drowning need to reach you, to reach the child, to protect.

Had you called for him? In his current state, he doesn’t recall. The explosion had been so loud. He knew he had called for you – your name ripping from his modulator with a blinding urgency that left his throat feeling raw and then… nothing.

Frantic, he continues to push his way around, ignoring the people that pull on his armour-clad arms and beg for his aid. He doesn’t have time. He refuses to help them while you and the Child are missing. He won’t help a soul until he knows where you are, knows that you’re both unharmed, that you’re both safe.

He’s not sure what sound falls from his lips when he catches sight of your boots sticking out from beneath a piece of fallen wall. The breath gets sucked from his lungs, bile rises in his throat, and then he’s running, not caring about who he shoves down along the way – he just needs to get to you.

The adrenaline pulsing through his system has him hefting the piece of rubble off of you and then he’s on his knees, gloved hands gently, urgently, pushing at your shoulder until you’re on your back. He can’t see you, not the real you. Dust and blood cake your face and no matter how hard he scrubs along your skin; he can’t find you.

His hands follow along your frame, feeling along the side of your body and then… there he is. The Child chirps sadly, blinking dust from his wide eyes, and wiggles from the soiled sack, stumbling onto unsteady legs. He turns to look at you, large ears dropping in sorrow at the sight of your battered body.

“I know, kid. They’re gonna be fine.”

You were going to be fine, because there was no other option. You’d have a bump on the head, complain about it for a few days, get on his nerves, and then be fine. Healed. Alive.

He swears his heart jumps a beat when your face pinches, features contorting in discomfort. He hates knowing you’re in pain, but he’d take it. Quite happily. At least that meant you were still here, still with him. He waits, but your eyes don’t open and he gets impatient. He taps your cheek once, twice, again just a little bit harder.

Why aren’t you waking up?

He shakes you; hand locked firmly onto your shoulder, fingers digging into your skin. The desperation that’s leaking into his voice starts to intensify the longer your lashes stay against the skin of your cheeks. Come on. You’re alright. You’re alright. Wake up –

And then finally – Stars, finally – your eyes flutter. The two suns hovering in the sky blind you, and you lift a heavy hand with a groan to cover your face. Relief floods him in an overwhelming wave and he crumbles over your body like he’s just ran nonstop for miles. You’re okay. You’re fine, everything’s fine.

His hands are everywhere when you eventually sit up – cradling your ribs, supporting your shoulders, a gloved palm against your cheek as you blink blearily at the scene around you. What happened? You don’t have the strength to ask. His grip is tight as he holds your hands, gently pulling you to stand. He doesn’t move away once you’re on your feet and it’s a good thing, too – you tremble, head melting into a vicious spin, and your legs give out from under you.

He has you in his arms before you’re even halfway to the ground.

“I’ve got you.” Always.

He cradles you the entire hike back to the Crest, the Child cuddled up to your chest as he coos gently at you, keeping you awake and as alert as possible. Din doesn’t stop moving, powered purely by the desperation to get you back to the ship, back home, somewhere safe. He kicks blankets across the cold grated floor and delicately lies you down, careful not to jostle you too much.

Your face puckers in agony, but soon you relax with a soft exhale, watching him through tired eyes as he moves the kid to his hammock before rushing back to your side. The gloves come off in an urgent tug and soon you’re rewarded with the heat of his fingertips trailing across your skin. His touch disappears, and you wish you could voice your protest, wish you could beg him to put them back.

You watch as tanned hands reach and grasp at the helmet, pulling it up and off and then – oh. Din blinks down at you with wide brown eyes, assessing every bit of damage he could see without his visor hindering his view. A scratch here, a scrape there – nothing bacta won’t fix. You’re fine. Everything’s fine. His eyes fall back to yours, and he half smiles, somewhat shyly, as you study his previously secret features.

Beautiful.

Your hand moves, fingers desperate to feel the scruff covering his jawline, but it falls short and you try to frown in frustration but lack the strength to contort your features. His own hand shoots up and helps yours on its journey, and soon you can feel it – scratchy against the skin of your palm.

His other hand is warm across your forehead and you smile weakly at the look of pure adoration on his face, his dark eyes flicking over your features. He had no regrets removing his helmet. He would have removed it in front of you one day, anyway.

“I’ll get you some water, cyar’ika.” He murmurs, bending to press a soft kiss to your forehead. You weakly move your head ever so slightly, greedily chasing his lips with your own, desperate to feel them just once, and your heart bursts as he grins, eyes crinkling and dimple appearing. What a sight. He lets his nose trail softly against yours before moving to your lips. His kiss was everything you had dreamed – tender, loving… and it chased away the chill that seemed to have taken a hold of your body, even if just for a few seconds.

“D-Din –” Why is it so hard to speak? You feel so weak. You want to tell him so much. He needs to know what he means to you. You’ve never been able to say the words and now you’re filled with regret. But surely, he knows. He must. You need to thank him for… for everything. For showing you the stars, for making you believe in yourself, for showing you that it’s okay to stand your ground when someone tells you to move. Maker, you need to speak. He needs to know. “Din,”

He hushes you lightly, dancing his warm fingers across your jaw affectionately. “Save your strength, cyare.”

Your eyes well as you watch him stand and leave. No, stay. Stay, please. He tries to be quick as he retrieves you a drink, but the water pressure on the Crest is questionable to say the least. He also fills a small bowl to start cleaning your skin of the filth that cakes it, desperate to see the horror of the day washed free from your skin. He returns after a short while, expertly juggling the many bits and pieces in his arms, and stops short of the makeshift bed.

You’re still. Completely unmoving. Your chest no longer moves, fighting for gasps of air. Your eyes were open, pointed to where he had disappeared into the fresher, but they lacked life. They’re vacant, hollow. They stare right through him. He all but drops everything in his arms, falling right beside you.

Swallowing around the bitter taste in his mouth, he tries to speak. “C-Cyare?”

His hands move to your face, and he recoils at the chill of your skin. Heat, you need heat. His thumbs rub across your cheeks, desperate to work some sort of friction against your skin. He wills your eyes to focus, to gaze back into his. Breathe. Maker, please, breathe.

“Cyar’ika, I’m here.” He moves closer, hands darting over your body, indecisive of where to touch, where to hold you. No. You’re fine. You’re fine. He feels the cracks start to form, his world quickly falling apart in his hands. “I’m here. Please, cyare – I’m here.”

Yes, he is… but you’re not.

+

Tags: @anu-simps @seasonschange-butpeopledont​ @withasideofmeg​ @you-got-me-starry-eyed​

[nakachuchu]

Cupid | Aido Hanabusa

SYNOPSIS: A modern high school + soulmate AU

READER: female

WORDS: 947

WRITTEN: 01/15/2021

NOTES: Thank you for requesting @quotes-lover I racked my brain for ideas for this quote and I ended up coming up with this. It was a bit difficult lol. I feel like it's not what you really expected but I hope you enjoy it, even a little! Feel free to send more quotes my way. This was pretty fun.

You looked at Hanabusa who sat on top of a desk, laughing with his friends surrounding him. He glanced your way, and you looked away, embarrassed that you had been caught.

A hand enveloped your head, causing you to look up at your friend, Ren. He grinned down at you before taking off his pink hair clip to clip it into your hair.

“Stop getting so embarrassed. Don’t be ashamed to admit that you like him.”

You pouted. “That’s easy for you to say. You have no shame at all.”

“I take offense to that. Besides, he likes you too,” said Ren.

“How can you tell?”

“Because I’m Cupid.”

You stared at Ren with a blank face before smacking his hand away. “I’m going to get some melon bread.”

“Ah—Y/N. wait for me!” he shouted, chasing after you as you ran down the hallways.

Hanabusa stared after you with a small smile on his face.

“You have that stupid smile on your face again,” interrupted Rima.

Hanabusa tore his eyes away from the spot you previously stood at. “And? I think it’s cute.”

Rima rolled her eyes. “She likes you too. That much is obvious. What are you waiting for?”

“For her,” he answered.

The annual school festival was nearing. Your class decided to do a butler cafe. For once, the girls in your class were fine with doing the cleaning and cooking. Really, they just wanted the boys to wear butler uniforms.

You volunteered to put up the decorations and banners for the class. You stood on your toes on the ladder, stretching to stick the tape onto the top of the banner. It was no wonder the ladder began to wobble and you lost your balance.

Hanabusa’s eyes widened, attempting to reach out for you. You felt your breath stutter for a moment as strong arms caught you.

“Thanks, Ren!”

Ren smiled at you as he placed you down onto your feet. “Of course!”

You went back to your task, asking someone taller to stick the tape on for you. Ren glanced around before his gaze settled on Hanabusa. A devilish grin on his face, Ren winked at Hanabusa.

Hanabusa grinned murderously, eye twitching. “Oh-ho?”

The day of the festival was finally here. You were running around the school as an errand girl and a guide for people who needed directions. You were absolutely out of breath, hiding behind the back of the school for a quick break.

A water bottle was hovering in front of you. Looking up at the hand holding it, you smiled at Ren and took the water. After eagerly drinking it, you let out a sigh of relief.

“You’re a life saver,” you said.

“No problem,” said Ren. “I gotta go. My break’s almost over.”

Hanabusa peered at you by the corner, clutching the unopened water bottle in his hand tightly. He was on the verge of locking Ren in a closet.

Ren was there every time Hanabusa attempted to approach you and he was beginning to lose his sanity.

Did you want something to eat? Ren beat him to it. Were you about to trip? Ren beat him to it. Did you need help carrying something? Ren beat him to it.

"I'm going to kill him," said Hanabusa, glaring at Ren who was serving a customer.

"You should ask Y/N to be your girlfriend. Since she likes you, she'll say yes anyway," said Rima. "You're just scared."

"No, I'm not," retorted Hanabusa. "You're right. I'll just tell her I like her. Right now."

He said that, but his legs refused to move.

"Any day now," said Rima.

"Can you push me?"

Rima rolled her eyes, but helped her friend out by shoving him toward the door. Determined to beat Ren, Hanabusa ran around the school in search of you.

He found you standing in the courtyard by the cherry blossom cheer with colored painted hands on your clothes and body.

"Hanabusa, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be working?" you questioned.

He walked a bit closer to you before answering. "I was looking for you."

"Oh." You stared at him before looking away, cheeks as pink as the cherry blossoms above your head.

He cleared his throat, eyes glancing away in embarrassment as well. "Are you having fun?"

"Huh? Y-Yeah, I am. I let some kids put their hand prints on me in paint. They were really cute," you explained. "What about you? You look good in the butler uniform."

He smiled, scratching his cheek a bit. "Thanks."

"Is... Is that all you wanted to ask me?" you questioned timidly.

"N-No, I... I wanted to ask you something else. I—" He cleared his throat again. "I really like you," he muttered. "A lot!" he shouted. "So... Will you be my girlfriend?"

Your face turned red. "You're not... You're not joking, right? This isn't a prank?"

"No! I really do like you!" he exclaimed, hands flying around in exaggeration.

"Then, yes, I'll be your girlfriend! I really like you too!"

The two of you smiled at each other shyly underneath the cherry blossom tree with the sound of an ongoing festival in the background.

Two figures stood on the rooftop of the school, looking down at the new couple.

"You've done your job," said Kaname. "What happens now?"

Ren hummed. "Their memories of me get erased and I get assigned to another person."

"Must be difficult, being Cupid."

Ren shrugged. "Making people find their match is my happiness. Y/N deserves it. Ah, I'm so tired. Getting Hanabusa riled up is no easy task."

"At least it worked."

Ren smiled. "It did, didn't it?"

[wordynerdygurl]

Skin Deep - Part 6

Author’s Note:  Honestly, this story is nearing it’s ending.  Hard to believe that a little idea I couldn’t shake has now grown into this mini-series!  For all my die-hard homies, waiting for the next installment, I hope this is worth your while!  If you’re new here, take a look around, see if you like anything and please, let the management know if you have any questions!! As always, writing like this requires the emotional support of people and pets.  My dogs, Murphy and Winston, get me through a lot of plot bunnies just by being stalwart companions.  My husband, graciously, lets me take these flights of fancy when I probably should be paying better attention to him and his day... and some of my besties here on Tumblr make it possible for me to do this for you guys.  @sammy-jo1977​ , my sister from another mister!  Couldn’t/ Wouldn’t do it without you! To all the folks who follow me... My Minxes!  Love you all!  Stay well, be kind, and remember that Love, really does conquer all!  If you want to be a Minx, send me a note, I’ll happily add you to my tag list! Lastly, be sure to like and share anything that you see on Tumblr that catches your eye.  Creative types, we need the constant validation, you see?  Without it, like an unwatered plant, we wither on the vine and perish!  Be kind to those who help you through the day and reblog! Skin Deep Part 5 - click here for the previous chapter! Pairing:  Loki x Reader, Steve, Valkyrie & Thor all make appearances Summary:  Continued from Part 5, You and Loki put your plan into action, returning to Farmhouse.  When you encounter Steve again, you learn there’s more than two sides to this story. Warnings:  Loki’s POV and perspective, including mentions of his time under Thanos.  I’m re-writing MCU history here, but some of the main beats are the same, so look out for SPOILERS for Dark World, Ragnarok, and a touch of Infinity War.  The SNAP never happened because, reasons.  

Empathy used to seem such a human emotion.  Loki had no time for that on Asgard, not when Odin denied anything as frivolous as feeling.  Hiding in plain sight was the means to survival and if that made the young prince sneaky and sly, so be it.  By placing those parts of himself under lock and key; the parts that hurt, the ones that ached, Loki found it was safer to disconnect from others than subject himself to their suffering too.

Operating under the influence of Thanos and his minions when he held the scepter, Loki had purposefully divorced connection of any kind from his mind.  It was dangerous.  Weak.  And moreover, it allowed Loki to do what Thanos commanded without really experiencing the horror, the havoc, of his actions for himself. 

  Who could hear the screams of women when the voice of Ebony Maw subliminally chanted all the ways that one could be dismembered at Thanos’ hands should Loki fail?  What man would shed a tear after the near constant beatings doled out by Black Order members, just for the fun of it?  How could someone care about a house, a car, a city, when they no longer cared about themself? Losing the Battle for New York had consequences far beyond the destruction of property.  With Thanos’ hold over him vanquished, the walls around his heart, constructed in youth, crashed and burned like the dream of ruling Earth.  Suddenly and completely out of reserves, Loki was powerless.  And he felt everything.  The fresh hurts caused by his manipulated ambitions in the hands of Thanos. The furious feelings of his brother, the inadequacies of his character, the feeble needs that drove his wild ambition washed over him unceasingly.  Anger.  Loss.  Lunacy.  Loki learned a hard truth in that moment.  He was a monster.  A freak.  A creature beyond hope and salvation; proving his adoptive father right and his own hopeful heart wrong.  Bitterness soured the fallen prince. Endless hours in isolation on Earth, which continued in his father's house, had Loki believing he had no chance of seeing the world outside again, and it hardened his heart further.  To feel was so painful, so raw, and so humane.  Why bother anyway?  All that emoting, those high spirits, all they really did was expose you to derision.  What was grief to a goblin?  What was horror to a monster?  What was love to a villain like him?  An evil, conspiring demi-god, with a mind bent toward domination.  A damaged, destroyed, deity alone and in pieces.  Who would ever give someone like Loki Odinson a chance?  Why should they?

Turning to his mother, Loki did everything but ask for forgiveness.  In long rambling talks, her projection to his jailed person, the pair talked around ideas of guilt and innocence, of fate and fortune, of destiny versus desire, yet Loki never heard the words he needed in order to truly find peace.   

If Frigga was aware of her son’s need for absolution, Loki would never know, as their last exchange was harsh and full of anger.  Another stroke of loss, crippling now, because there was nothing Loki could do to change any of it from inside his prison cell.  No illusion could conceal the painful ache that consumed him entirely. 

Those days were dark, even for a soul as dusky hued as his own, and Loki’s thoughts followed a similar path.  If there had been a way for him to shake off this immortal coil, free himself of the burden of living, Loki would have done so and been glad.  Death was welcome compared to all this longing and heartache. But life, even a nearly immortal one, was funny. 

When Thor provided a chance at redemption, Loki snatched at it, in his own detached way.  He played hero, rescuing Jane, aiding his brother.  And if he took a bit more in the form of deposing his arrogant, aging father, who would be surprised?  He was Loki, God of Mischief, after all. Ruling the Nine Realms without the oppressive oversight of his father allowed Loki to prove himself in ways he never imagined.  And Loki wasn’t just good at it.  He was great. Of course, it helped that no one knew he was Loki.  Living disguised as Odin was often unpleasant, frequently frustrating, but entirely necessary.  Being Loki was still too difficult and likely to bring unwanted attention in the form of The God of Thunder, a thing that no one truly wanted, Loki least of all. Return Thor did, along with an unknown sister and the end of Asgard.  When confronted with the insanity of Hela’s bloodlust, Loki’s only thought was of his kingdom, now without a ruler.  He had worked too hard, too long, to see the land he cared for in the hands of an enemy, even if she called herself sister.  Opening the Bi-Frost, panicked, his mind was solely on saving those he had recently held dominion over.  They were his people, after all.  But he never reached Asgard. Swallowing his fear, Loki focused all his energy on staying alive in a new and distracting environment, initially.  What Loki found on Sakaar wasn't a new home base under a flamboyant, ineffective leader that he could control, even if that was his first design.  On Sakaar Loki found his loyalty.  

The proud, deep resonance of being Asgardian, of being an Odinson, of being capable and cool under pressure.  Sure, he had to prove himself to Thor, Valkyrie, Banner and honestly, the rest of the kingdom, but actions speak louder than words.  And through his actions on Sakkar, and by extension rescuing the people of Asgard, Loki had shown everybody his true mettle. It was on the deck of a stolen ship headed for Midgard that  Loki had made a commitment of sorts.  One that was not to the people, so recently saved or for his found family.  This time, the promise Loki intended to keep was for himself.  Loki was going to change. The problem is, a task like that takes time.  Patience.  Motivation.  It was something that Loki had to work at and it was exhausting. They say that the best things come to those who wait.  Loki was learning to wait everyday.  Having earned a place at the side of his brother, he worked tirelessly to win over the heroes of his new home planet.  Was it easy?  Hardly, but Loki wasn’t willing to compromise.  Not anymore. A life like Hela’s was not in his runes.  Loki was simply going to be better.  Not perfect.  No one could be as good hearted as Captain America, nor could one be as tech savvy as Stark.  So Loki was planning on being the best Loki he could possibly be, and that’s how he found himself going to meetings at The Avengers Tower, a mostly welcome addition to the team. Meetings weren’t all that exciting and boredom was an awful temptation for a deity devoted to mayhem.  In fact, Loki spent more time doodling in his notebook than listening to whoever was droning on about whatever part of the world needed the attention of this motley crew.  That was, until Pepper Potts hired her new assistant.  That you were polite, pretty and pert wasn’t lost on the young god.  Sitting outside Mrs. Iron Man’s office, typing away with a phone tucked under your ear, moving faster than anyone he had ever seen was certainly impressive.  You were quick witted, clever and most of all, funny. Everyone else seemed to fall under your spell without much effort on your part, something that Loki found frustratingly fascinating.  Here he was, struggling to get people to say his name without having a traumatic flashback, while you simply smiled and smarted off prettily, and had everyone singing your praises.  But Norns, were you adorable. If he thought about it, and while off planet, Loki definitely had, he could remember the moment he realized that you were the woman he wanted.  You were busy, as always, fielding phone calls and flipping through screens yet every moment your flying fingers weren’t hovering over a keyboard or pushing down telephone buttons they curled around a heart shaped charm at your throat.  Clearly, it was a habit and one that you weren’t even aware of, still - it transfixed him all the same.  Watching you from his side eye, your voice never wavering, your tone always so pleasing, and your nimble digits returning again and again to the small sigil around your neck.  “Loki?” “Huh?”  Dumbfounded at your call, those deep sea eyes blinked wildly at the sound of his name on your lips. “Hi!  Yes, Pepper can see you now.  Go ahead, she’s ready!” He rose on stiff legs, adjusting his tie, about to lie to Tony Stark’s woman all for the chance to see you in passing.  Who had he become? It started out innocent like that, but soon, Loki was having to invent excuses for being in the office so frequently.  Missing files, random visits, even going so far as to buy Tony coffee just for the thrill of seeing you.  Something needed to change, and quickly, or Loki was going to blow. On another made up errand, hanging around the executive’s high rise office, Loki was doing a bad job of pretending not to see you.  His mind was on your pouty lips as you sipped lemonade through a straw and not on the stately woman seated behind the desk. 

“Loki, you’re a man of some… style.”  Pepper said it so casually that he almost didn’t hear, his head lost in thoughts that would shame any other person. “I like to think so.”

Shutting her folder with a snap, Pepper smiled, “And you’d love to help your old friend Pepper out, right?” That got his attention, and quickly.  Loki, shoving his hands in his pockets, turned to face Pepper with a widening grin, “I feel like I’m being baited.”

“Baited?  Never!  It’s just, you’re always here and I have a… project that needs the kind of help that you can provide.”  At those words you entered the office, ready for action with a notebook and pen, eager and excited. Suddenly, it was all clear to Loki, “Pepper, no.”  

The noose closed in on the handsome god as Pepper gathered paperwork without looking his way, “Come on, it’s the Stark Homecoming Gala and the two of you will do great!  I have faith in you both.  I can’t wait to see what you come up with!” “Really, Miss Potts, I simply can’t-” Stopping short, the strawberry blonde whipped around, almost nose to nose with Loki.  Shrewd and straightforward, Pepper interrupted, saying, “You’ve been dancing around my office for weeks now.  Clearly you like her and… against all the odds, she likes you too.  I’m doing you a favor and when someone does you a favor, you say “Thank You”.” “Thank you.” Nodding curtly, “You’re welcome.  Now, make yourselves comfortable, order some dinner, my treat.  And do whatever you need to make sure this is one great party!” That’s how Loki found himself sitting at a clear glass table over sweating bottles of iced tea as you discussed color themes and tablecloths.  You were shy, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you reviewed notes from previous gatherings both large and small.  His hands itched with wanting to do that job himself. “So, what do you think?”  It was the first time you had addressed him directly since coming through the door and for a moment Loki couldn’t answer.  You were too… not beautiful, that wasn’t the right word, although you were.  No, you were too open, too easy to read, and the earnestness you offered him was downright frightening. Sitting forward in the uncomfortable, yet fashionable, office furniture, Loki cleared his throat and again tugged his tie, “What I think is that you should let me take you dinner.” Dropping your eyes, your cheeks colored slightly as your fingers found that locket charm once more, “Loki, I… I don’t know-” Grabbing for your hand, suddenly afraid that you would take those shining eyes away, Loki lowered his voice and did something he never thought he would.  He begged.  “Please?  I find that you’re all I can think about.” It rushed out of him in a torrent, the way truth so often does, and he found himself unable to look you in the eye.  Loki was afraid to see rejection on your easy to read face, afraid that wanting you had cracked open the lock box holding his heart, afraid that you would see just how weak you made him.  Your fingers twined with his own as you replied, “You didn’t let me finish.  I don’t know what took you so long.” Sighing with relief, his face melting into a genuine smile, “Me either.” Over the next two months the pair of you worked tirelessly to plan and execute a perfect party.  You were inseparable during the day, heads buried together as you discussed linens and table settings, the quality of cocktail glasses, and debating over a band or a dj.  But at night, at night Loki talked about the things that haunted him in the dark.  And you loved him in spite of the awful things he had seen and done and said. Others took notice.  Loki was more lighthearted, more available.  He listened when people spoke and wasn’t constantly doodling during meetings.   Yes, Loki was learning how to love through your loving him.  If empathy had seemed too humane before, then sharing his life, his love with you, was the kind of immortality that earned someone a place in Valhalla.  It was the bravest thing Loki Odinson had ever done and he didn’t mind one bit.

The first time Loki tasted you was burned into his brain, as bright as a flash of lightning.  A firefly in a memory jar that he kept returning to, time and again.  Loki remembered what you were wearing.  He recalled exactly how the light shone in your eyes.  If he concentrated, he could tap out the rhythm of your racing pulse as he held you in his arms. It was the night of the gala.  Inviting everyone under the Stark Industries banner, up to and including the heroes tasked with saving the world, the event was a way to earn money for one of the many charities Tony supported.  The place was full of beautiful people wearing gorgeous clothes under perfect lights set to the hand crafted soundtrack you had created together.

But, Norns, he could still remember the way your eyes sparkled under the lowlights of that hall.  How your dress, simple but sophisticated, clung to the fullness of your bottom.  Low cut but somehow still modest, Loki couldn’t tear his gaze away from the promise of your curves, willing himself to find anything else as interesting as the idea of you.  

You were across the room hanging onto Tony’s every word, eyes bright and cheerfully glowing as you sipped champagne.  It made Loki want to do something grand, something suave, something that would demand your attention for his own.  Moving towards you, his tuxedo perfectly pressed and fitting better than it had any right to, Loki looked long and lean.  Each of his steps seemed to echo, even though the room was full of sound, and you turned your head as if you also heard.  Breaking away from the cluster of acolytes surrounding Iron Man, you bit into your lip as the crowd parted, moving closer together one step at a time.  It was one of the sexiest things Loki had ever witnessed. Lifting your glass in a toast, taking in the room of mingling millionaires, wealthy hangers on and Avengers, “Well, we did it!” “You did it, my dove, I just hung around and judged everyone.” “Oh stop.  I couldn’t have done it without you and you know it.”  Playfully you pushed against his shoulder and Loki took advantage, using your momentum to pull you to his side, your curvy figure flush against his own. Crooning into the shell of your ear, his lips brushing over that sensitive skin, “Somehow, love, I think you would have managed.”  Before you had time to think, Loki had melded his mouth with your own, stealing your breath along with your heart.  Loki’s feet moved in time with the music as he pulled into a dance, laughing in his arms, your cheeks hot and your head swimming. You laughing was, without question, Loki’s favorite sound.  Nothing in this world or any other came close to matching the joyful, childlike glee of that enchanting noise.  Loki memorized its melody, the rise and fall of your giggle.  He had craved it, being away for so long, and now he wanted… no, needed to hear it.  But you were the furthest thing from happy at the moment.   

"Darling, please.  We have to go."  Loki tapped his watch, shaking himself free from the memories of your previous life together and barely suppressing his irritation.

Tears filled your eyes as you whipped your arms around Thor’s mighty shoulders, his deep voice grumbly with emotion, "Take care of him, would you?  He's a jerk, but Loki is the only brother I have."

"Of course… always.  And Valkyrie, your highness, I can’t thank you enough for-"

"No need.  Loki, and by extension yourself, will always have a safe haven here in my palace."

Looking on, Loki and Thor embraced almost tenderly before crashing their heads together.  

"Stay safe, little brother."

"Be good, Thor."

Eyes on the sky, Val ignored the show of masculine emotion, chastising your plan, "You’re going to start a war, Loki."

Straight backed, Loki turned to the king, "Not on the grass of New Asgard.  I will take the fight to them, that is my vow to you."

As Loki offered his hand, Valkyrie shook it, with parting words, "Work on staying alive.  You have a tendency to worry your brother."

Solemnly nodding, "As the king commands.  Shall we?"  With that Loki laced his fingers with yours, leading you a few paces away from the people who loved him most, before summoning the magic that had you both transcending space and time.

This time when your feet touched down it was on the familiar turf of the orchard, surrounded by the scent of apple blossoms and the buzzing of happy bees.  Morning had broken and the world seemed full of promise, with the exception of that knot in your stomach.

"Are you ready?  Darling?"

"Oh… yes.  I mean, I still don't love this plan, but-"

"But it's going to work."  Only it was no longer the baritone voice of your long, lean Loki speaking.  In his place stood Nick Fury, leather duster and eye patch in place.

"If you say so!"  And you clutched your own throat as Natasha’s bored tones came out of your mouth.  The suit, skin tight but flexible, molded to your modified form.  All in all, you were comfortable, "The boots are a bit much."

"Ya think?  This jacket weighs a ton."  Pulling at his collar, "Why does he wear a turtleneck anyway?"

"Loki, this is so weird.  It feels so weird."

"Agreed, but then, why am I so turned on?"

Laughing, you shook your false red hair, hands resting on Natasha’s waist, "God, I've missed you."

"Same, dearest.  Now… let's get your necklace and some answers!"

---

 Convincing Bucky to head home had taken a lot of work, but sometime around 2 am Steve had finally seen his friend off.  The house was empty.  Steve felt the same way.

Turning the black velvet box in his pocket, fingers crushed against the fragile fabric, Steve struggled to feel anger.  When that didn't materialize he shot for sadness but even tears seemed beyond his ability.  

With a sigh, climbing the same stairs he had trudged up a hundred times before, Steve started going through the motions of bedtime.  Only tonight you weren’t there to tease him about the wildly inappropriate amount of toothpaste on his brush.  He didn’t have your light footsteps to follow to the bedside or your help with stacking all of your extra, yet entirely essential, pillows on the chair.

Someone must have changed the sheets, he thought.  There was no evidence of you and Loki’s adventurous afternoon anymore.  Steve made a mental note to thank Buck for that little piece of kindness in the morning.

Shucking his shirt, Steve sat on the mattress, a hand to his forehead.  He had lost.  Captain America had been bested.  Beaten.  And by Loki, no less.

Moonlight in silver slivers shone through the window panes, squares of light in the deep of night.  Steve was alone.  Utterly and totally alone.

And there was no one to blame but himself.

Sighing hard, Steve stood, pacing the floor to work off some of the unspendable anxiety he kept creating.  The room still had your energy, your vibe, as you liked to call it, and the feeling was a prickling itch Steve couldn’t quite satisfy.  Traces of you were everywhere and something about you leaving all of it, and him, behind was just too big to process. “Damn it.”  Even whispering sounded like thunder in the silence of your recently vacated room.  His hands, so big, so strong, smoothed along the fabric of your hanging clothes.  All that power had done nothing to help Steve get the thing he wanted. Sorting through the baubles and trinkets on your dresser, bottles of perfume he had purchased, necklaces and pins, each with a moment of memory it hurt him to recall.  Your watch ticked away the minutes as he stood, stoic and still, surrounded by the shadow of you.  In the orchard the birds were waking, their song filling the air, as morning broke in low golden rays.  Abandoning his plan for sleep, Steve watched as the light chased away the dark, casting rainbows on the floor.  The sun was reflecting off of your Grandmother’s necklace.  A pretty, ancient, carved cameo,  heart shaped locket.  He recalled his own mother owning one just like it, pictures of loved ones pressed inside, holding them as tight as history would allow. Fisting the filigree chain, winding it around his fingers as if it would somehow undo what he had done, Steve slipped it into his pocket before settling back onto the bed.  ----

At the back door to the home you so recently shared with Steve, Loki hung back, “I think this is where we split up.  You go find your treasure and me… I’m going to find some answers.” Nodding, Natasha’s signature red hair swinging, you squeezed the hand holding your own.  It no longer looked like Loki’s long fingered paw, but that was only a skin deep change.  You felt the undeniable essence of him in the press of his fingers against your own. “Be careful.” “That’s no fun, dove.” “Loki-”  You hated the way your voice broke as you said it, but there just seemed to be so much at stake and you had already lost him once. Sensing your unspoken concerns, Loki flashed you Nick Fury’s best smile, “I will.  I promise.”

“Ten minutes.” “Ten minutes.”  You watched the black coated back of your charmed paramour as he opened the shed door, hoping that he’d find something worth knowing in that place out of sight.  Inhaling deeply you twisted the doorknob as quietly as possible, letting yourself into what was once your kitchen, “What a mess.”  It was impossible not to notice the unwrapped leftovers and empty bottles littering the table.  An overturned trash barrel, crumpled beer cans littering the counter, things that Steve, your Steve, would never have tolerated.  All evidence that the grand evening he’d envisioned had been thwarted by Loki’s arrival and your collective escape.  

You started up the stairs, praising Natasha's footwear for its stealth, when you heard the toilet flush and the unmistakable shuffle of Steve’s feet on the carpet.  There was no place to hide on the wide stairwell.  It was time to see if Loki's plan was going to work.

Voice blurry, eyes rubbed red and raw, you couldn't deny that Steve looked like shit, “Bucky?  That you?  You back?”  Steve’s voice bounced around the brightening room as morning sunlight filtered through the soft sheers you had picked out for exactly this reason. Panicked, you backed into the railing with an over loud “Oof!” “Nat?  What are you doing here?  I thought you and Fury were headed to New Asgard?”  Suddenly wide awake and wondering, Steve rushed to your costumed side, eager for information. The man in front of you now bore little resemblance to the angry Avenger you had escaped from hours before.  This man had hair sticking up in odd angles from near constant finger raking.  This man had a hint of a stuffy nose and red rimmed eyes, all indicators that tears had been shed.  Now those blue eyes were scrutinizing you closely, full of concern.

“Uh… We... We got intel.  Yea, intelligence, that Loki was headed back this way.  Turned around… and uh, here we are.” One of those sandy blonde eyebrows lifted, “Natasha?”

Squaring your shoulders, channeling that cool confidence you’d see Black Widow display over and over, “Steve?”  Something about your tone of voice convinced him in a way your words couldn’t.  He visibly relaxed, those broad shoulders going slack as he asked, “Didn’t make it to Norway, then?"

Nodding a negative, you felt the unfamiliar brush of her red hair at your cheek and had to fight the urge to tuck it away, “No.  Loki’s using some sort of transporting power to move them around.  Fury suggested I keep an eye out here, in case they come back this way.” “She won’t be back, Nat.  There’s nothing for her here.”  To you, Steve sounded so sad, so removed, that you had to will yourself not to comfort the giant before you.  “That’s not true!”  It came out of you forcefully, thoughtlessly, and you saw the shock register on the Captain’s face. “That is, Fury and I… we… have reason to believe that she will come back.  They left with nothing, Steve.  She’ll need clothes… maybe some shoes… and-”  Swallowing hard, you didn’t want to give anything away, “-a necklace from her grandmother.” Steve, patting his pocket, felt the weighted chain and it’s heart shaped locket, “I don’t think-” Stepping up to his bulky form, suddenly aggressive, you started, “Never mind what you think, Captain.  We're here for a necklace...  the necklace.  Our intel suggests that your former flame might return for it and… And, I want it, with me, as a means to subdue her when she arrives." Sounding forceful and official was enough to back Steve down.  Just a touch deflated, you watched him shrug, “If that’s what you want, Nat, here-”  From his pants he pulled out the shining bauble, a trinket really, but full of sentiment and memory. Sitting in his palm, the tiny heart that held the picture of your grandmother and mother looked so small, almost unreal.  Reaching for it with wet eyes, you smiled at Steve as you lifted the charm and chain, “Thank you, Steve.  Thank you.” Nodding deeply, that golden head bobbing, “You’re welcome.”  The large grandfather clock could be heard ticking throughout the house.  The sun was gaining on the day and you, dressed as Natasha stood in silence in front of a somber Steve.  For another long beat nothing was said, then, as if sensing a shift in your conversation, Steve flashed your fake Natasha a weak smile, “I could use some breakfast.  How about you?”

“Um… sure.  Yea, ok.  Breakfast.” 

Steve started moving again, downstairs towards the cluttered kitchen when he paused, "So how did you get back so fast?  Cause that's like a 7 hour flight, even with you in the cockpit." “Steve…”  You could hear it, the whining almost pleading tone that signaled the end of Loki’s well planned charade.  That wasn’t enough to stop Steve.  He broke hard, one of those strong arms stopping you in your tracks before you could reach the lower level. “It’s clever, I have to give you guys that.  Almost perfect, really.” Panic rising, you doubled down on the ruse, struggling to keep your voice even, “I don’t know-”  Blocking you in, his body the perfect unmovable buffer, “Loki’s here too, isn’t he?” Pushing against “Steve, I… I don’t…” “Don’t lie.  You don’t have to…” “But… how-?” “You’re not mean enough to play Natasha, doll.  Not by a long shot.”

--- It was strange to be seated at the table and chairs that you and Steve had picked out together one sunny Saturday when you thought that your future was going to be Loki-less.  Your place, the one that you had imagined filling with children that had golden hair and bright blue eyes, felt like a set.  Something false and fake.  A facade, put together simply for show. Steve must have felt it too because his fingers drummed against the white washed table incessantly.  Clearly he had something on his mind.  “Steve-” “No.  No.  Please, let me just get this out, ok?” Raising an eyebrow, you waved at him to continue, nervous but interested in what the super soldier needed to explain. With a shaky inhale, running his constantly moving fingers through his golden locks, Steve caught your eye and didn’t waiver.  “When I saw you… No, that’s not right.  Let me start at the beginning. “When Loki left Earth, you… you were so sad.  It hurt me to see you so… deflated.” “Steve, I-” “You know it’s true.  When he returned to Asgard, something in you, it dimmed, and I just couldn’t allow that… Not when I felt the way I did about you. “I don’t think you realize just how incredible you are… how full of life!  And since I had already missed one chance to be with you, I knew I needed to prove that I could be the man you needed… If you forgot about Loki along the way, even better. “Only… you never did.  I waited years for you, ya know, doll?  Years.  And just when I thought there was no chance with you, Nat gave me a reason to hope. “She was your friend.  An ally.  Someone you could trust… someone I could trust.  I swear it started out that innocently, at least for me.  I just wanted to make you smile again.  But she had other plans.  Plans that came from higher up the ladder of SHIELD. “Fury, he wanted us to watch you… something about Loki being too powerful.  And-”, grabbing your hand tightly, Steve emphasized his point, “-I promise you that I had no idea about his success, or the messages he had sent to you through Nick.  Like you, I thought that Loki was gone.  Missing.  Never coming back.” “I… I believe you Steve.  I know that you didn’t do all this on your own… but what was Nick hoping you’d find out?  I knew less than nothing about what was going on!” “I think he was worried that Loki would get to you first.  That if… when Loki returned, you would be his first stop.  Then you would know about Loki’s success and, frankly, Fury’s failures.  You would also know… well, everything you know now.  That Fury had you tailed, lied to, and led on in an effort to stop Loki from out flanking him.” Frenzied and frantic, you felt anger boiling up inside of you, “But I thought Loki was gone forever.  There was no hope for him and I… and Natasha, she told me that he was dead.” “All a part of Fury’s plan to keep you neutralized and Loki away.  If Loki thought that you’d ignored his letters, that you no longer loved him, why would he come back here?  And, if that didn’t work… when Loki came back and you were with me, what else could keep him on Earth?”

Whispering with realization, “So, they used you too.” Steve sighed and buried his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt, “Don’t feel bad for me.  I let them use my love for you, let them twist it up and shape it as they needed.  Honestly, I wish I could tell you that it was for you, but it wasn’t.  It was for me.  I wanted you, so, so badly.  I didn’t care what strings were attached.  And we built a life together, you and me.  I thought I could outrun the reality of the constant monitoring and daily reports.  Telling Natasha and Nick about every word and each email.  Don’t you see, I love you… and I wanted you, however I could get you.” Shaking your head, Natasha’s red wisps flying, “That’s not love, Steve.  I don’t know what that is… but love isn’t it.” “No?”  With a loud thunk, Steve slammed a small velvet box on the table between you. “Is… Is that what I think it is?”

“Last night.  It was going to happen last night.  Our friends here, under the lights and the stars, I was going to ask you to marry me.  I still would if-” Realization hit you like a ton of bricks, “If Loki hadn’t stepped back into our lives.” “-If Loki hadn’t stepped back into your life.” It made you both laugh in a sad way, how you finished the same thought, and for a fleeting second you could see why you had allowed Captain America to sweep you off your feet.  He was a lot of things to you now, but there was a time when he had been almost everything.  The evidence of that was in the small black square that said nothing but spoke volumes. “Steve, I don’t know if I would have said yes… even without Loki’s… arrival.  I think I have always known that you and I… we are very different people.” Sitting back in his chair, his gaze still locked on your own, “I just want you to know that I’m sorry.  I’m sorry about what I’ve done… what I’ve said… How, shit, how I’ve behaved.  I could say that it was my duty.  I could tell you it was out of love, but the plain truth is that I have always been jealous of what you and Loki share.” “You’ll find it Steve.  You really will.  There’s a person out there waiting for you.  And once you’ve found them, oh Steve, you’ll see that this… what we had, it’s a shadow.  An illusion.  Because love, real love, doesn’t come with caveats and catches.  It is an undeniable force which, in my case, even the boundaries of time and space can not deny.” Something like a sob burst out of Steve, and you were surprised to see tears in his eyes, “I was so wrong.  Could you ever forgive me?” “I want to, Steve.  I really do... “  What more could you say?  Patting his hand you started to rise, “I have to go now.  Loki and I need to keep moving and I don’t want to risk running into Nick and Natasha.  At least, not yet, anyway.” “Where are you planning to go?” “To the Avenger’s Tower.  I believe I know what Mr. Fury has been planning all along.”  Loki’s strong voice entered the conversation as smoothly as his arms wrapped possessively around your waist. Steve took in the protective stance of your returned lover with a raised eyebrow, and without further comment asked Loki, “Really?  And how are you going to breach the building?  They’ll be looking for you, even with disguises…  Fury is no fool.  Plus, there’s little chance that Tony hasn’t activated a million safety and security protocols by now.” Only interested in you, Loki refused to give Steve any of his attention, “Getting in can’t be that hard!  I’ll figure it out when I get there.  Ready pet?” With a gentle push under his broad hands your feet started to move towards the door.  Loki was eager to be off and away, especially after hearing so much of Roger’s confession.  Just knowing what Steve had done, manipulating you while also convinced of his love for you;  it was enough for Loki to commit murder.  He was having quite a difficult time not tearing the good Captain’s limbs off his body. Softening his tone, Steve practically pleaded, “Loki.  Wait.  I… I can help.” Turning his attention fully to your former flame, Loki purred venomously, “You can help?  I’d love to know what entails, Captain.” “I can get you into the place and take you exactly where you need to go.  Fury’s going to hate it, but I’m tired of taking orders that hurt the people that-”  His pause was as lingering as the look he gave you, “- That I love.”  Before Loki could offer a sincerely sassy reply you grabbed his sleeve, tugging, “Um… Excuse us a minute Steve.” Pulling him down the hall of a home that felt like a familiar faced stranger, you waited until you had a bit of distance from Steve before harshly whispering, “How long were you listening?”

Serving you that small, sexy smile, Loki grinned, “Long enough.  How did you know I was there?” “You are sneaky, but even you, God of Mischief, cast a shadow.” Swinging you close enough to catch your mouth with his own, Loki pressed a sweet kiss there before answering, “A mistake I will be careful not to make again!” “The tower, huh?  That’s where you want to go?”  Grabbing you at the swell of your hips, grinding his frame against your own, “Where I want to go, my darling, is to the nearest bed, preferably naked, with you and you alone.” Your hands traced over the lapels of his borrowed leather duster, pausing only to jerk him closer by the supple fabric, “Hmm… is that so?” “Oh yes…”  Loki’s buttery grumble filled your ear as his strong hands dug into the flesh of your bottom.  For a moment you thought he’d give in to temptation, his sweet lips teasingly close to your own upturned mouth, “But-” On your toes, leaning into Loki’s sturdy, leather draped frame, you paused, “Ugh.  But?” Moving you to a safer, less kissable, arms length away, Loki sighed with the same frustration you felt, “-But, where we need to go, as soon as possible, is the Tower.” Moaning grumpily, you stepped out of the arms you longed to linger in, “I was afraid you were going to say that.” “I know it’s less than… ideal, love, but I did find something useful before the good Captain unburdened his soul this morning.” “And that is?” “Fury’s plan.  At first I couldn’t figure out exactly what he was after.  What did Fury want?  How was I involved?” Loki was dragging this out, loving how it kept you hanging onto his every word, and you rolled your eyes, “Well?  What is it?  Weapons?  War?” “All of that, yes… and… yours truly.”  That triumphant smile that filled Loki’s whole face lit up his mischievous eyes.  Tilting your head, struggling to make sense of what Loki had just told you, “What do you mean, you.  Fury wanted you… to do what, exactly?’ “Loki was going to be the patsy.” You both turned toward the sound of Steve’s baritone at the door, suddenly remembering that the Good Captain was still there and that he was waiting to see what you were going to do next.  Leaning his 100 year old bones into the doorframe, Steve crossed his arms, “The fall guy.  An example of what happens if you cross SHIELD.” “I think, my dear Mr. Rogers, that you mean, I am to be used as an example of what happens if one crosses Nick Fury.”  Loki countered, slinging an arm over your shoulder protectively. The idea was frightening.  A man like Fury had too much power, too much at his disposal.  Just knowing the lengths he had gone to in order to keep you and Loki apart was scary enough.  Making enemies of your friends.  Threatening the people you loved.  Selling your affection to Steve in an effort to control Loki.

Now, the knowledge that all of it was done in an effort to ensure that Nick Fury was the toughest guy in the galaxy, it made your stomach clench.  “What do you mean, an example?” “Unless my intelligence is flawed, I believe that Fury was going to kill me.  Is that correct, Captain?” Steve felt the weight of two sets of eyes on him.  Yours, full of fearful love and blind hope that this was all just some misunderstanding.  Innocent and naive and as lovely as he could ever remember.  Loki’s were reflecting a deeper understanding.  The kind of knowledge that only time in the trenches teaches. There was no answer from Captain Rogers.  None was needed.  Honesty, final and resolute, was out in the open.  “Look.  I know I’m not the guy you want on your side.  I’ve… I haven’t been the man I needed to be.  Not for you-”  Steve locked his bright blues onto you, offering a small smile that spoke of sadness before facing Loki, “-Or you, Loki.  But if you let me help you now, I promise that I can get you into the tower and maybe, one day, you won’t think so little of me.” 

Around you the morning gained strength.  Somewhere nearby birds chirped wildly, blissfully unaware of the drama unfolding in the modest little farmhouse and its implications on intergalactic politics.  Without  moving a muscle, Loki plainly asked you, “Do you trust him, dearest?” Squaring your shoulders, you crossed your arms, staring down the man called Captain America.  Nodding decisively, “I do.  I don’t think he’d spill everything like that only to turn on us.  He’s not so bad Loki, really.” “We’ll see about that.  For now, we trust Steve.  Ok, what’s your plan, Rogers?” --- “Hey.  I… I have one other thing to show you.”  Steve was dressed for action in his branded tactical gear, looking every inch the super soldier that Dr. Erskine envisioned. “Steve, we have to get moving.  Loki’s eager and -” “Just open it, ok?”  The envelope was thick with folded paper, the flap tucked under and not sealed.  Clearly it had spent time in and out of pockets, the edges frayed and tattered.  In exasperated curiosity you gingerly pulled the sheets free.

Shaking, your hands trembled holding the once white documents as your voice thickened, “Is this… is this what I think it is?” Cocking his head playfully, that rueful smile pulling at his full mouth, Steve almost seemed cheerful as he teased, “It’s yours.  I think something about this place has always been yours and I want you to have it.” “But-” Folding your small hands in his mighty ones, Steve squeezed gently, “It was a wedding present, or it was supposed to be.” “But we’re not getting married.” “I know.  Still-” “I can’t, Steve.  It’s yours.  Your house, your farm, your dream.” Shaking his head, disagreeing, but feeling lighter than he had in decades, Steve insisted, “Too late, I’m afraid.  It’s done.  Actually, that version of the deed has been signed since our second week here.” As realization sunk in you appraised the man changing right before your eyes, astonished but exhilarated, “Where will you go?” “I dunno.  Think I might need to be alone for a bit.  Maybe see the world… but first-” “First, we have to stop Nick Fury.”

To Be Continued... My Minxes:   @scrumptious-finicky-illusion @iamverity​ @mizfit2​ @sammy-jo1977​ @wolfsmom1​ @jessiejunebug​ @iluvsumbucky​ @unadulteratedwizardlove​ @procrastinatinglikeabitch​ @shxdowofdarkness​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @ahintofkiwistrawberry​ @alexakeyloveloki​ @rorybutnotgilmore​ @crystalizedcaramel​ @lokislittlecorner​ @capcapcapsicle @jamielea81​ @caffiend-queen​ @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore​ @jenjen8675309​ @that-one-person​ @roguewraith​ @toomanystoriessolittletime​ @vodka-and-some-sass​ @just-random-obsessions​ @brokenthelovely​ @lots-of-loki​ @thefallenbibliophilequote​

[darkacademicfrom2021]

Away. So, so far away.

<<Previous part Masterlist

Alternative ending with Bucky

Word count: 1,13K

Warnings: angst with a happy ending.

A/N: thanks to everyone who read this, and thanks to that one blog long ago who recommended I shouldn't have to choose between the two of them and just go for a choose your own adventure kind of story, which I'm sure I'll do more often and more elaborately in the future.

I've had terrible problems with the tag list, for that I apologize and it's now all worked out. Sorry for the delay and you're tagged in everything, now.

6

Alternative ending with LOKI

Loki roamed around Midgard. He didn't have enough time. He didn't know whether someone would go see him today, in a week or in many months, but he didn't have enough time anyways.

He turned around and found himself not wanting to transform into anything to go into Stark's Tower. It's been long. Were you still living there? Would they kick him out before he'd even get to see you?

He walked right through the gates, and ran. Nobody stopped him, the sensors still allowed him in as if he were still living in your place. It was yours, now, wasn't it?

He took the stairs up to the fifteenth floor, and barely felt it. The years locked up made him no less agile.

He stood in front of your door. The apartment that was from both of you. He still had the half broken cuffs on his foot, the one that sealed him to the tiny cell and didn't allow him to move. His hair was a disaster, and had no way to fix it. He, himself, looked pale and worn out, and nothing like the prince you once thought you'd marry. But he was using all of his remaining strength to hide from Heimdall's eyes.

He stood in front of that door for a long time, although long time was now a blurrier concept, wasn't it? He waited for something to happen. He now realized he might not want to see you.

Because he'd knock on that door and someone else would open. Maybe even the soldier. Maybe someone telling him you jumped in front of a bullet again and took it with your head. Maybe you, upset enough to give him just the right amount of rejection to make him wish he was long dead.

He was about to leave. His hand hovered around the doorknob and pulled it away. He sighed loudly, the air in his lungs couldn't keep up with the part of him that wished to not be perceived at all.

"Who's there?", he heard your voice from the other side of the door. His heart raced like it never did. His hand trembled, exhausted and in nervousness. Your voice was the same even five years later. Of course it was the same. That was you.

He couldn't answer. He froze in place and couldn't neither answer nor leave, and waited for you to do the next move.

"Bruce, I already told you, I'm totally fine. It's just a stupid cold", you said with a weakened voice, trying to hide it. He knew you were in bed. "Now, stop hovering on the door and sighing and come in if you wish".

He heard you shift around the bed and waited. He didn't say a word. Heard your steps going to the kitchen —how well memorized he had all of those places; he wondered why would you still live there. He hurt you. You shouldn't live there anymore, where you once loved him.

"I'm up for the mission, if that's what you're wondering. I'll pop a painkiller and go for it. It's fi…", you said, and Loki didn't realize you were so close to the door. You opened it and stopped on your words as you needed to look up.

That wasn't Bruce Banner.

Loki stood in silence. He looked at you. Not a single bit in you changed, at least in appearance. You had a haircut, no more. New clothes, of course. He looked at the apartment behind you; it was changed. The furniture was shifted around. There was a new bed —King sized, and he felt himself about to flinch—, the floor had a new color of carpets and the walls were no longer covered in pictures. It was almost a new apartment —except it was the same.

"You shouldn't push your body like that for a mission", the words escaped his lips and he couldn't stop them. It was something he would've said five or six years ago, when he still had the right and the privilege of caring for you like that, of watching after you like that.

You remained in silence. Stared at him with glassy eyes, until you heard steps behind him and saw him turn around anxiously. Then, you understood he was on a run, and motioned to let him in.

You pointed at the couch and he obliged. You made him a cup of tea and sat in front of him with one for yourself too.

"I think I have a bit of explaining to do", he said with a deep voice and you, oh God, felt all of your feelings emerge again. You sighed and looked at his broken cuffs. "I don't… Thor was lying", he started, and you didn't say anything. He didn't get to hear your voice yet. He continued. "I was barely able to see you through a sphere. I heard what he told you about me about five years ago, and then I couldn't see you anymore. I got locked up. I couldn't… I tried. I'm so, so sorry", he sighed, and his eyes became glassy again. "I don't expect you to forgive me. I just wanted to… see you, I guess. I managed to escape, yet I don't know for how long it'll last".

You got up all of the sudden, and it almost scared him. He thought you'd slap him, or something similar, something deserving. But no.

You walked to him and hugged him. You hugged him so tightly he fell down and you laid on top of him against the soft couch. You hugged and didn't let go of him. You buried your face on the crook of his neck and he surrounded your whole body with his long and strong arms. He sank his nose on your hair, and you smelled the same. Your tears wet his shirt, and his, fell on your shoulder. You stayed in there, embracing each other, not letting go, for a long, long time.

The only time you managed to pull away from him, was to kiss his tear-stained cheeks. He smiled, truly smiled, for the first time in half a decade. He kissed you back. Your cheeks, your forehead, your neck. He traced his long fingers around your face and placed them gently behind your ears. His eyes showed just all the love he had never lost for you.

"I'm so sorry, my love", you whispered against his skin. "I shouldn't have stopped. I shouldn't have believed him. I'm so terribly sorry, Loki".

"Please, don't. Don't even dare apologize for all the pain I caused", he hugged you tighter. Not letting go, ever again. "This was not your fault. If anything, it was mine".

"Don't go".

"I'm not leaving ever again".

"Stay with me".

"Forever".

(Taglist: @lucywrites02 , @louieboo87 @the-departed-potato , @jesuswasnotawhiteman , @idontknow296 , @beksib , @spythoschei , @geekwritersworld , @whatafuckingdumbass , @mysticunicorn7 @shadowolf993 , @joscelyn02 , @t00-pi , @selfship-mishaps , @sallymagnoliaposts , @deadgirl88 , @theonewiththenerds , @vicmc624, @spiderlaufeyson

[binniesthighs]

two tails | reader x minho |

Three 

Pairing: self insert, female reader x lee minho 

Genre: strangers to lovers, neighbors to lovers, fluff 

Tags: neighbors au, comfort fic, catowner!minho, catowner!reader, author!reader, bestfriend!seungmin, floristnpunk!jisung, gradstudent!jeongin, agedup!skz, slow burn, plot driven, gradual romance, lil bit of angst, strained parental relationship, explicit language, mentions of food and alcohol, mentions of previous kinda sad relationships 

Word count: 5.4k (y e e h a w) 

Tagging: @lauraneuuh​

Chapters 

P | ONE | TWO | THREE | ?

zeal noun 

: eagerness and ardent interest in the pursuit of something: fervor 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Seungmin never liked your cooking, or at least, he’d often mumble this into his spoon while beginning his second serving. He was probably just being nice, or respectful. Your best friend of four years had never been less. 

Aside from the fact the he had a 70 pound golden retriever, never had you once seen a strand of that golden hair cling to the cloth of his winter coats. In the autumn, he would drive you in his hand-me-down ‘91 Mitsubishi to the city where you would tutor the English students just so you wouldn’t have to bear the cold of the subway. In the summers he would toss soju down his throat with you, sitting on the carpet of your living room and turning his head to the side with a hand raised to hide his glass. In the spring, he would remember your birthday--several months before his--and take you to coffee shops and bookstores, then the grocery store (which he knew you hated) and would buy for you the most expensive beef he could find. 

You would cook the meat for the two of you, and he would say that he liked it...even if you had charred it black on the edges. 

Seungmin flicked at the little aluminum tab on his beer can while he watched you murder yet another plate of perfectly fine vegetables on your stovetop. 

“At least it smells nice.” You flipped the circle of white onion. 

“It does.” He returned, nonchalant, flicking the beer tab a little poink. 

“You’re being uncharacteristically quiet. Too tired to complain about those dicks from the marketing team? They put you on a shitty pitch again didn’t they?” 

“Every pitch is a shitty pitch there. God, you wouldn’t believe the kinds of slogans that they make me say sometimes. It’s humiliating.” 

“Hey, you’re the one that took the pay raise over that job at that high school.” 

“Well, you didn’t have rent staring you dead in the face and a dog that’s practically active and sentient enough to be a real child.” He slugged down a sip of his drink. “I’m a single father you know.” 

“As if!” You choked out your laughter. “Since when did you turn into Hyunjin? You were never one for dramatics anyway.” 

“Go get your vegetables, they’ll burn.” He nodded his head to the stove. The thing was, they were already burnt. 

You salvaged what you could of the vegetables then placed them over your rice balls (not intended to be balls in the first place) and the chicken strips which had undoubtedly been seasoned just a little too much. You slid the ceramic bowl in front of him. At least it was steaming. That was a good sign. 

Seungmin nodded a little in thanks, then let out a less than obvious sigh before taking his first bite. 

“Spicy...but good.” 

The way that his breath sounded thin made it convincing enough to you that it wasn’t just “spicy.” 

He scrunched up his face in that adorably puppy-like way that you had long gotten used to. 

“Really. Tell me. It isn’t the pitches. Don’t pretend like I can’t read you.” 

Your best friend squeezed his eyes shut with a rather generous slug of his beer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Whaaaat?” You whined a little while opening up your own can. “Oh my god. It’s that girl from the art division. She has a boyfriend doesn’t she? Dammit.” 

“No.” Your friend drew the disdain in his eyes up to you from the chicken that had made his nose start to run. He wiped at it quickly. 

“I hope it’s not my mother that’s getting to you. She’s too damn nosy for her own good and twice as cocky as she should be. Don’t listen to her. What did she tell you anyway?” 

Seungmin poked at his food with his fork then twisted a crispy-tipped red pepper. “Have you talked to him again?”

“--Minho?”

You shied at the memory of meeting him on his morning run two days prior. He would go out at nearly 8:00 on the dot every morning, just when the sun started to peek into the dewy pink and blue mornings.

“You should put on a sweater if you’re going to get up this early for those plants of yours. Don’t want you catching a cold.”

“Yes.” You answered your friend. A tiny ache pinged at your chest--and it wasn’t the kind that felt all twisted. “He asked me to watch the meteor shower with him this weekend. I hope I can cook something edible for him.”

Seungmin’s knee bounced, “Aren’t you at least at little suspicious of him?”

“Suspicious? Why would I be?”

“You hardly even know anything about him, or where he came from, what he does for a living--”

“--Now you’re starting to sound like my mother Seung. Relax. Besides, sometimes it doesn’t take much to feel...comfortable around a person. I mean, look at us! Soju nights started like, three weeks after we met. And I do know where he works. He works for a company that makes windows; fancy ones.” 

“Windows?” He cocked a brow. 

“He did say that it was kind of boring...” 

“I just--” Your friend sighed out, resting anxious hands on his knees. Here he was again, being nice and respectful, like always. “--You could get hurt if you’re not careful.” 

“What?”

“I’m saying, don’t get your hopes up.” 

“Geez Seung...” Your voice trailed off with a different pain in your chest. This was the kind that twisted. 

His expression softened, and he lent a hand to your shoulder, lingering, squeezing lightly. “Your mom...she told me to look after you...not like I do that already with you falling all over yourself and burning things...I don’t want to see you get hurt.” 

“Hm. Thanks.” 

“You’re also miserable to deal with when you’re sad. You make me blow my grocery budget with how much frickin’ ice cream and freezer tater tots you force me to get.” 

“You like those tater tots too though.” 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Bomi purred in your lap swaddled into a little ball of white, orange, black and brown. She was napping, or rather, trying to nap with the way that her little cat-shaped eyes blinked slowly. You tried your best to soak every little moment of it up: you knew that with her, it would be fleeting. There was something supremely calming about being close to your little furball like this. After all the love that you poured over her in the form of useless cat toys and new cat food every week, this somehow made it all worth it. 

You tapped lightly at your keyboard, not too harshly, just lightly enough so that you wouldn’t startle your sleeping cat. The tips of your toes were cold, but you didn’t dare to move to grab a blanket to ruin the moment. Outside, a light spring rain befell on your small cement patio. Droplets of the warm showers patted at the roof of your home softly. 

Your eyes had grown tired and dry at this late hour, but the end of the chapter was near. One more time you hovered your mouse over the little notification bar, clicking at it for that one last push of motivation: 

~ 

Bomi needs to quit MESSING AROUND. Blaze is right in front of her!!! Ahhhh I want them to get together soooo bad 

Is Herbie okay?? Poor bb, its so cute how we would do anything for Bomi. 

Bomi: 

Blaze: 

*now kiss* 

Are we really getting to the end of Book 1??? This has been such an amazing story N/n, I always look forward to your updates <3 they make my Thursdays hehe 

I can feel like something big and bad is coming...oh no...I hope that Blaze and Bomi make it through  

~ 

A thankful little chuckle hummed on your lips, then you pressed enter to start a new paragraph. 

“Oh Bomi,” You exhaled, “If only Blaze knew how you felt too.” 

Chapter 27 

...The group journeyed through the cavern with flickering white flames dancing and casting shadows on the stone walls dripping in stalactites. Bomi held on to the hilt of her sword tighter with a sense of dread creeping up her throat. Blaze looked onward, much as he had been doing these days. 

His leg was wrapped in a bloodied bandage: a reminder of the battle won against the Boar in Hilgram. He had jumped in front of her as he had countless times before. 

“Hello??” Blaze’s voice echoed against the long and winding chambers of the cave. In his tone he was confident, but his shoulders still shook with an uncertainty. 

Herbie’s little hedgehog feet patted the damp floor, and he looked up at his Princess with fear in his soft black eyes. The little velvet banner wrapped around his body had been torn and tattered from one too many battles. 

Had it been darker, Bomi wondered if she had reached out for Blaze’s hand to find in him. She shook her head with her resolve, eyes painfully shut. It was only in the darkness that she allowed herself to want for him. 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Today must be one of those spring-summer days.

Your warbled reflection chased after you in the blue glass of the university’s library windows. You had hoped that no one was on the other side watching you as you wrinkled up your nose to look like one of those devilish gargoyles that you had been writing of the night before. From the inside, rows and rows of books were lined up perfectly, however there were almost no students inside. It always did make you a little sad how few students would be there when you clocked in for your mandatory office hours.

Spring-summer days meant that the businesswomen on the sidewalks had exchanged with trousers with flowing skirts and little clicky ballet flats and each businessman had his tie and collar tugged down. There was a comforting warmth to the spring air that reminded you of your own college days when you and your friends--long gone now--had stayed up late to study, then would scour the buzzing streets for snacks. Things were much simplier then.

At the library’s entrance, budding tulips and geraniums of light purple hues were greeted by round bumblebees. Had the city not been as loud as it was, you could nearly hear the cicadas in the park on the east edge of the shining silver building.

You bowed slightly to the attendant at the desk who always would smile at you with adorable smiling eyes to match. She would often wear earrings of strange shapes that you had never seen before. She wore a lanyard too that had little cat paw prints decorating it; it was because of this you knew she was someone you could trust.

“Are you having a nice week?” You said to her customarily.

“Oh, I am. It’s always the same around here. My daughter will be having her baby soon! Sometimes I think that I’m more excited than she is.”

“You’ll have to tell me when that happens so I can bring her a gift, okay?”

The attendant smiled warmly, and nodded you off with a little oh, you don’t have to.

“Remember your key card this time?” She watched as you jingled around your own keys with the obsessive amount of plastic and silicon keychains.

You tsked. It seemed like nearly everyone in your life had now known how forgetful you tended to be sometimes.

“Yes. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be over there.”

Once more the two of you exchanged little bows and you made your way over to the back of the four storied library with the atrium of trees in between. There was a marble fountain encircled by the trees that had little oval shaped leaves. Two tiny birds, all black, bounced from branch to branch. It was your secret, but you had written about that fountain many times in your writing, but you were the only one who knew that it was real.

You tapped the reader to hear that familiar do-do doot along with the flash of the green lock. As always, the study room was a bit messy with eraser shavings sprinkled about and the odd dry marker laying next to the trashcan where someone had tried to toss it in, but had missed. The minute hand on the wall clock scooted right on to the 12.

“Are you busy?” That fluff on white hair peeked into your study room just like clockwork.

“For my favorite student? Do you even have to ask?”

Jeongin, the oldest and most attentive student in your class hopped in with his adorably boy-ish charm. Regardless of the fact that he was in the last year of his grad degree, it was impossible for him to look that old. You didn’t have the heart to tell him, but he technically shouldn’t have been in your class for undergrads, but you weren’t going to stop him.

“Why’d you decide to take this class anyway?” You would ask him.

He’d answer, “For fun.” with that cute little smile of his.

“I hope I’m not bothering you.”

“I just got here.” You pulled out a seat for him.

“Oh. Good. I was wondering if you could proof read my short story again. I’m having trouble with the ending. I just don’t think I understand all the way how to make it full circle like you said in lecture.”

He unzipped his leather backpack: obviously a gift from someone in his family that must have thought it would make him look his age. It didn’t. What didn’t help further was how he had adorned it with all kinds of keychains; much like your own keys. It was because of this that you knew he was someone you could trust.

His manuscript already had dozens of scribbles in his own handwriting with tons of question marks riddling the margins. 

“Let me take a look.”

You skimmed the pages of the short story--one which you had already read the week prior--for all of his new edits. The notes made it a bit hard to read, but you were used to how he would make a mess of his papers now. He leaned in close to you with glossy eyes that might have even twinkled a little like a cartoon. Both of his knees bounced furiously while he watched you read, and would look from the paper, to your face, then back to the paper, then back to your face...

“Is-is it good? Better?”

Jeongin had written a love story. His first one that you had known of. It was about a boy and a girl who had met on an airplane, and had been seated together. The two of them found out that they had shared so much about their two lives without ever meeting until this very moment. They had realized they went to the same high school, worked in the same building, and were travelling for the same reason: to meet up with someone that they had once loved. It was beautiful, tragic, and in some ways, familiar.

“I think that it’s wonderful Jeongin. The edits that you made to it from last week really help with the narrative flow as well as the vertical plot. You’re really good at asking the deeper questions behind the piece like “why are they really there,” and “why is it important that they are there.” All you need to do is tie it up.” 

“But howwww?” Jeongin slumped in his wheely chair. “What should I say?” 

“Well...” You tapped your pen to your lip. “The ending scene is when they land at the airport right? Why don’t you have your main character say something that calls back to all of their similarities and makes it seem like they’ve known eachother all along?” 

“But I don’t want it to seem like they’re going to forget eachother.” 

“They won’t. You established that they’ve both found something different than what they were looking for in the first place.” 

Your student’s face tangled up into concentrated knots and he puffed those thin strands of bleached white hair away from his eyes. 

“I could say...‘see you at home’? Or...maybe that’s too cheesy--” 

“--No it’s not! If you like it, I think that it also fits the story well. Its like, now they understand, and they’ve got something in eachother now that they hadn’t had before; also juxtaposing with your themes of travelling to make a reference to home.” 

“Damn, you’re much better at this kind of stuff than I am...” Jeongin wrote down the new ending on his print out. 

“Its just...what I like to do.” 

“I’m glad I came.” He grinned out with his mischievous and trademark smile. “How’s your story going by the way? Almost finished?” 

“Oh...” 

A heat rose in your cheeks. You had decided to tell Jeongin about Princess Bomi a few weeks back, but you had neglected to tell him exactly what the story was about. That was a secret better kept to yourself. 

“Its...good. I think. My readers seem to really like it.” 

“Maybe you’ll let me read it someday. I bet there would be tons of other people who would like to read it too, you know, outside of the internet.” 

“That’s what I’ve been told...” Hyunjin’s urgings echoed in your head. “Maybe...” Your eyes wandered to those scribblings of his. “How about we make a deal?” 

“What kind of deal?” 

“Once we get both of our stories sorted, lets submit them together. I’m sure people would like to read yours too.” 

“Mine?!” Your adorable student’s face flushed as deeply pink as the sweater he wore. “Oh no, no no no no no.” 

“I’m telling you it’s good! Its relatable, raw, well written. It never hurts to try. How about submitting it for the literary journal they do at the end of the semester?” 

“You mean the one that all the arts majors read and fuckin’ eviscerate?? Hell no.” 

“Hey, I could get eviscerated too by my chief editor.” 

Jeongin gulped with his terrified, brown, cartoon-character glistening eyes boring holes into his manuscript. 

You sang, “~Wanna go down together~?” 

“A-as long as we’re going down together...I guess it’s worth a shot.” 

“Alright then!!” 

He made a little sound of disgust, then shoved his papers back into his much-too-old-for-him bag. “That was all I needed to ask you for. Thank you.” He bowed with respect. “I won’t be bothering you for too long today.” 

“You wrote a good story Jeongin.” 

“Mm. Thank you.” His smile turned into a tiny flustered line. 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

STUPID NEW CAT FOOD. AGAIN. 

In one hand, you held the crinkled up grocery list with angry doodles of your cat folded into the corners of the page. You didn’t quite know if cats had eyebrows like the ones you had drawn onto your cat’s smug face, but you were for certain that this cat must’ve had them...and they were angry. 

Bomi had selfishly decided at the end of your week that she no longer liked the last brand of cat food that you had found on the shelves of the grocery store. It was the brand stored next to the one that you had nearly concussed Minho with. 

You were at your wits end. There must have been something wrong with your cat--to hell with her being a picky eater. Maybe she really was just a little alien inside there. A little alien that hated cat food. The image of you sitting at your dining table across from Bomi eating two plates of people food crossed your mind. She picked up the fork with her white paw and dabbed at her mouth with a cloth napkin. The idea didn’t seem the most out of reach. 

In your other hand was your phone opened to the maps app with the small blue dot leading you to the specialty pet store. 

“Damn spoiled, stuck up, good for nothing, pain in my as--” 

“Hey! Blossom??” 

Your head whipped around so fast you cracked the bones of your neck with a startling pop. You rubbed at your neck to ease the pain. 

“You okay?” 

At first you figured you must have dreamt him up in your neck-induced-pain. You cursed at your overactive imagination, still just as strong as it was when you had been small. 

Blaze in the flesh he was alllll the way from his battered Converse to his stupidly handsome curly hair. 

You laughed out incredulously with a hand still glued to the back of your neck. 

“Didn’t think that I would be seeing you around here again. Or at least, I was kind of hoping that I would.” 

He marched right up to you with that same smile you had pictured on Princess Bomi’s companion countless times before. Today he wore a leather jacket over the arms that you knew were covered in all kinds of flowers and vines. It hadn’t quite hit you yet that he had said he was hoping to see you. 

“Sorry if I startled you. I was just...really surprised.” 

“You’re fine, it’s fine.” 

You neck didn’t tell you it was fine. 

“What are you doing around here?” 

“Pet store.” Was all you could get out. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to you, but for someone who worked at a flower shop, he did end up smelling an awful lot like flowers. It was a sweet aroma, much like your garden. 

“Ahh, I just got off.” 

You walked on, also not noticing that he had started to follow you a couple steps behind. 

“I realized I didn’t get your name last time.” 

“Oh. It’s Y/n.” 

He hummed with a smirk. “I do kinda like Blossom more.” He crammed his hands into his pants pockets with a wistful little sigh. “Pretty nickname for someone as pretty as yourself.” 

“Psh. Stop.” You had said it sarcastically, but you didn’t intend for your heart to skip as harshly as it did when he had said so. 

“You’ve got a pet then? Dog? Cat?” 

“Cat. Just one.” 

“I wish I could take care of a pet like that. Don’t think I would be too good at it though. I see myself as more of a plant person. They’re quiet, don’t do too much, and they sort of love you back in their own way.” 

“How's that?” 

“By growing. And flowering. Changing colors and looking good in your windowsill. Nothing too crazy.” 

“I...guess I can see what you mean.” 

He flicked at the black hoop pierced into his lip in the way that you certainly hadn’t forgotten; and you were one for forgetting much. 

“Mind if I go in with you? I don’t have a whole lot going on.” 

Jisung. You had also remembered his name. He carried Blaze with him in the way that he had that fiery glint in his eye like he knew he was getting away with something. He was brash and forward, and charming as all hell. The sunset of blood orange and cotton candy pink seemed to melt into his shoulders where he stood before you in the golden hour of the evening. A yellow carnation was tucked into the pocket of his jacket. 

“You don’t have to...” 

He had already made up his mind, and swung open the door to the pet shop neighboring the floral shop. You didn’t know how you had missed it. 

The squawking of birds chimed with the bells hung over the shop door. 

“You coming?” He held it open for you. 

You sheepishly entered before him, nearly tripping on the little incline to the entrance and catching yourself three seconds before disaster. 

Jisung prompted, “Lead the way.” 

Normally you would have been concerned over the cleanliness of the store, but that seemed insignificant compared to the way that he looked around all in his Blaze-like wonder. He widened his eyes at the rows of fish tanks and twiddled with the little feather cat toys at the ends of the isles. 

Granted, he seemed much more immersed in the kinds of aquatic plants and moss balls that they had rather than the cute bunnies and mice, but still, you couldn’t help but shy away when he caught your glances. 

“Glad that I joined ya Blossom.” 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

There was something about Minho that felt like a lullaby. He wore a lavender colored sweater when he arrived at your doorstep: of course it was pooling into paws at his hands as always. The collar dipped deep enough for you to see the tops of his collarbones, and they were gorgeous and curved. His eyes wrinkled a little under his wire framed glasses when he would smile: that of which would also look like the little grin of a bunny. Effortlessly his brown hair kissed his forehead. 

He would speak softly and carefully, and listen to everything that you had said to him as if it was the most important thing in the world. His feet were too big for your spare pair of house slippers and he had a tiny hole in his khaki pants right by the waistline. Minho greeted Bomi with a tiny “aigoo” and she let him sweep her up into his arms where he bounced her lightly. She would never let you do that. Traitor. 

“Your home is very...you.” He had complimented. You had no idea what that meant. 

His lips were pink and glossy with drips of that peach soju that you had bought in the hopes that he would like it. It turned out that it was his favorite flavor. 

You wanted so badly to kiss the peachy flavor off of those lips. 

He had laughed a little at your array of cat-related home decor, laughing the most at your dish towels that had two fat cats on them that looked like chefs. He said that he had seen a movie once and the characters reminded him of that. 

The two of you sat outside on your patio on the wire chairs that would imprint designs into the back of your legs. The air mixed with the smell of your citronella candle and the scent of the roasted duck that you had attempted to make for him. You really shouldn’t have tried to make something for the first time when it was also his first time coming over. 

Maybe he was just being nice, but he had said it tasted good. 

It did not taste good, but rather harshly of salt and too much rosemary. 

Bomi rubbed at his legs under the table and even hiked herself up on two feet to peek into his lap. As much as it hurt to see your traitorous cat act this way, it was because of this that you knew he was someone that you could trust. Minho gave her head scratches and insisted to help you with the dishes--a mistake on his part. It took all of two minutes before you had a mishap with the detachable sink head, and soaked through his sweater. 

“Maybe I just shouldn’t trust you with water then?” He chuckled while dabbing away at the fabric. 

“That probably would be best.” 

Minho was a lullaby in the way that he laid down next to you on that quilt you had made in a crafting class some years ago. All of the patches were disjointed the the color scheme made very little sense, but it was stull functional. He kept his hands folded to his chest with reverence. His chest rose and fell calmly, and his body heat floated over to you. His presence was something familiar and still something that you couldn’t place. 

“Are you getting tired?” He asked you gently. 

You lied, “No, just resting my eyes.” 

“Maybe we shouldn’t have had that much soju then.” He joked into the open air.  

“How much longer?” 

“At least thirty more minutes.” 

He was so warm. Warmer than any chill of the spring night. 

First you would have kissed the peachy flavor on his lips. Then you would have cuddled all up into that lavender sweater which you imagined to be even softer than cat’s fur--or rather--it looked like it could have been. 

“Do you know any constellations?” Minho pointed up to the sky. 

“Not really.” 

“Well, that one is Ursa Major...and over there...that’s Leo. Can you see that it sort of looks like a triangle?” 

“Yes.” You had said, but really you didn’t have a clue, you liked it more hearing him talk about them. “Where did you learn about constellations?” 

“Long time ago. I think it was in school, but, that was so, so long ago.” 

The cool grass under the quilt rustled when he had leaned back up to sit, then dragged quilt attempt #2 over your body and his. 

“It was getting a little cold.” He quietly announced. 

His simple action of doing just that heated up your whole body now knowing that the two of you were trapped together, inches apart. 

Minho tucked his arms to prop up his head. “Thank you for cooking for me. I haven’t had someone other than my mother cook like that for me in a long while.” 

“I’m sorry...I know that it was pretty inedible--” 

“--And thank you for allowing me to come over too. I...realize...I don’t really know what I’m doing that well. I kind of invited myself...I hope that I’m not putting pressure on you or anything...” 

“--Doing what well?” Your heart leapt into your throat. 

“I just haven’t done this in a really long time.” 

This. 

What the hell was “this?” 

“I’m not following...” 

“Letting myself do something fun. Something nice and relaxing.” 

 You had formed a painful little “Oh.” on your lips. Your idea of this was different from his after all. 

“--Something nice and relaxing with you.” 

Another “Oh.” formed, but this one was a thankful one. 

“Can I tell you something?” Minho’s voice was barely in a whisper. 

“What is it?” You looked over at him and he was wrapped in the navy blue light of the night. You could have sworn that you could see the faintest inkling of stars in his eyes. 

He looked back at you in earnest. “I’ve been...scared, too, since moving back out here.” 

“W-why?” 

“There was something in me that was telling me that moving out here wouldn’t fix everything, and that I would be stuck forever on those things that happened, and the things that made me unhappy.” 

“Minho...what are you saying?” 

“-Got my heart broken. Back then. As cliché as the sounds.” He laughed, and it even sounded a twinge embarrassed. “I ran away from it to here. I had figured that it would give me time to get it all back together again.”  

“I-I’m so sorry.” 

“Running is good and all when you can physically remove yourself from what’s chasing you, but some things...” 

Your chest felt heavy. “I know exactly what you’re talking about.” 

“You do?” 

The first summer cicadas had started their nighttime chant, and their hisses ebbed and flowed like sea waves. 

“I feel like...these expectations that my family has of me, my mother...I can’t ever escape them. They’re always there and burned into my head. I think of them even when I don’t want to: get a better job that “contributes”, get married, have grandkids...” 

You paused with your own eyes cast up to the sky. The massive expanse seemed unfathomable. 

“Why is it that we can’t ever be happy doing the things that are supposed to make us happy?” 

The first meteor flew past your eyes with the speed of light, barely slow enough for you to catch it. 

The second was a bit slower, and traced after it a millisecond of white spectral dust. 

“Did you see that??” Without thinking, you poked once at Minho’s arm. 

You couldn’t see, but he had grinned with a weak smile. “I did.” 

All at once, the sky was illuminated with brilliant streaks of light and their white hot heads that would fade and dissapear just as quickly as they arrived. They tore through the sky with astonishing speed and you traced the outline of each line as fast as you could. 

“There’s so many.” You wondered aloud. 

Under the warmth of the haphazard blanket, fingers twisted into yours: careful and tentative, soft and curious.   

Minho breathed out, “I feel pretty happy right now.” 

[imagesbyele]

the theme I don’t know how to describe because it has too many things featured in it and it will take a year or 

aro-ace theme!

note that you are allowed to use the theme for whatever you want, change all colors, images (you want to make it a marvel thing? go for it! It’s personal and you want to use other flag colors? go pick those rainbow colors!), but my inspiration was, well, not having seen aro-ace themes before and wanting to make one. I didn’t upload background images but you have the option. Feel free to edit as you please, just don’t remove the credit or claim it’s yours!

as always in the source you’ll find the link to the post with static preview, code and instructions/extra credits.

theme is contained, responsive, super customizable. It’s free! But as always consider donating to my ko-fi as this was a lot <3  like or reblog if you use! (or just if you like it, if you want to!)

 this post will have: what you can edit from custom page, the widgets/scripts used with credits and some explanations. Asterisks * next to something will indicate that more about it will be said in the linked post. I’d apologize for the length but it’s due to how many things I added to the theme and that you should know about. 

now, what can you edit from your customization page:

-nearly every font and its color and size, so that if a font is by default bigger than others you can easily reduce the size. There is a select menu for the body font with all the fonts present in this blog, so you know what they are and can type the one you want for other eleents. I think I only left a couple to be edited from the editor, like your quotes posts if you reblog them a lot. This includes h2 as it’s what you use as ‘big font’ in your posts and h3 in case you want to personalize it and use it for something on purpose, as it has to be added to the html of the post.

-one of the new things:I used a gradient for the backgrounds of the big container, the sidebar and the posts container, but also of tumblr’s default music player (latter done initially following @octomoosey​‘s tutorial then messed with by me hence no album art).  See static preview posts. You can type the colors straight from the costomization page like this:

if you want one solid color you can just write, for example: black, black as it needs at least two. To bottom/To left/to top/to right change the direction. The only thing you need to edit from the html is if you want to go from linear-gradient (like you see in the sidebar) to radial-gradient (like in the big container which has green in the center and purple on the outside) and vice versa, if you want. 

-you can also upload background images of the sidebar, container and bigcontainer and select the optional blending with the colors, which can be none and you only see the images or something like screen or hard-color and check the results (bigcontainer as an overlay gif on Screen now)  -more typing: you can paste the symbol or the symbol code for the list items and the decorations around the post title, right now both being spades. *

-you can upload up to five background images if you enable the ‘changing background’ function otherwise only the first one counts. They will change when you refresh the page, thanks to @lmthemes​

-you can turn on and off the music box (player3 by @glenthemes​​ ), and if it’s enabled you can add two songs from the customization page (or go to the html editor and up it to four before it can get messy as it shows on hover), typing url, author, url of the album art, and song title. You already have We Are Golden by Mika as an example (takes a second to start due to the recording, watch out not to get scared if there is silence and then the first note)*

-optional searchbar in the sidebar with optional suggestions when you click on it (if you want them though you’ll need to go to the editor to type links and names, but you can turn it off and just keep the searchbar, like I said) also by glenthemes’ tutorials. 

-the separator between text posts image is also optional and if turned on, you can also turn on and off whether the image is the avatair/portrait of the person who made the post, with a link to the original if it’s a reblog, or if you want the image to be one you upload yourself, 50x50px and it should resize to fit in (also with a link, in this case to the post itself so you can open it from the top of the page). One is the toggle button ifshowtinyimage, and the other is ‘tinyimageisthesource’, if you turn that off you upload the image yourself. If you add a source to your posts, it will appear among the permalinks regardless.

more under read more!

-besides all normal colors and borders you can pick the color of the border/glow/shadow (call it as you want) of three different categories, or turn it off: the mainglow for big elements like containers and sidebar and sidebar images, the audios glow for players like spotify, regular one or soundcloud. Finally the images shadow when inside your posts. The latter is set on inherit because it means that if an image is also a link like your tiny-image it will be of the same color of your links and change on hover. That is something you can only change on the editor by searching for color:inherit and change it to what you want, if you don’t want to turn it off. 

-askbox colors have been changed with @eggdesign​‘s tricks! look for ask_form in the editor and try changing the number of filter there to see more effects. Also the askbox never shrink, a fix by @whateverhtml​ -pinned post has a little banner, styled like permalinks. 

-you can pick a color for top-info which are the date and notes. I left it empty because it automatically gets the default links color but you can pick it yourself. 

-turn on and off unnested captions looks for textposts and for all other posts (as people who use xkit to edit previous posts will get blockquotes anyway and may not like the final result) thanks to @annasthms​ code. -blockquotes are of alternating colors, by @bychloethemes​. You can obviously choose the same color if you want them to just have the one. You can also select the type of blockquote, if a solid line or dots or dashes.  -you can choose if your smaller sidebar image, sidebarimg2, is an image you’ll upload or if it’s your avatar/portrait by toggling it on and off. If you don’t want sidebar images and you don’t upload any, there are instructions on top of the html to delete the border so you only see the sidebar bg. (basically just delete their box-shadow) -speaking of which, your title will wrap around the second image like in the preview. If that doesn’t work for you you can try changing sizes and font or by going to the editor and changing the margin-top so it’s out of the sidebar image’s reach and can be a “straight line” again (in case it doesn’t fit and the long title is cut in the wrong place)

-you can turn on and off a copy link of the post button on the far left of your permalinks bar, so people can copy the permalink from dash - also by glenthemes.

-navigation links have two alternating colors, odd links right now are black, even links are white, and their hovers are the opposite of that. You can make them all of the same color, in which case you’ll need to look for .navilink a:hover and change the hover color for both. If you have custom pages and enable the link to show it will be automatically added. To change the cat icons just search for ‘cat’ and replace as pleased. To change the ask icon because maybe you don’t have them enabled look for ‘envelope’ with your ctrl + f. You can type urls and titles of navi links from the custom page, the first two are automatically home and ask, there are three more under the description. All icons from font-awesome have a black border so the white ones don’t disappear on light backgrounds, you can change that looking for .fas 

-you can select post-sizes: 400, 450, 500, 540. Whether the sidebar is next to the container or on top will depend on your post size and the screen width as at some point they may not fit. They always do fit on desktop though, and on screens that are smaller than 800px the sidebar is assumed to be on top and will have a max height of 300px (but you can scroll down). I couldn’t make the bigcontainer get bigger for giant screens as I can’t calculate the right size in which all post-sizes + sidebar will look good.

-lightboxes show images with a glow too. Speaking of which you get lightboxes as always, pxu photoset fix and video resizing fix all by @shythemes​ and with the bychloethemes fix. npf photosets fix by glenthemes. No href.li addition from tumblr when you add a link to a post by @magnusthemes​.

-soundcloud player is minimal and its play button is the same color of your permalinks icons thanks to shythemes tutorial. spotify is also minimal, instructions to change it are there. 

-tumblr controls are small and semi-transparent until you hover, also dark regardless, followed painthemes tutorial.

-chats are styled like imessages by ncrthlanes now deactivated, submit posts have at least the submitter’s url recognizable, reblogged asks also get a background for the answer as well as borders, link posts are styled as much as a link-post can be styled. 

-there are already links and similar things written to be an example in your customization page but in any case you get instructions in the editor and everything is divided in sections as much as possible. Also I’m here for any questions. 

[violetnotez]

Izuku x reader

⤷ Genre: Fluff, Barista AU!

⤷ Word Count: 7000+

⤷ Warnings: FLUFF (and maybe some second hand embarrassment!)

⤷ Synopsis: As your getting your morning coffee fix from a new cafe, your pleasantly meet with an extremely cute barista. Too bad he heard your name wrong though.

Song Recs: ⤷Sweater Weather-The Neighbourhood ⤷I Dont Know Why-NOTD ⤷Touch and Go-Ed Sheeran

This is for the Izuku Month! PLs go and check out the awesome writers participating for this month!

Please ignore all my banners being 20 different sizes I can’t figure out which size I like best 😂

You stepped into the shop, the warm smell of spices and coffee beans filling the air. It felt so warm and cozy, the whirring of the machines going on in the background as you breathed out a deep sigh.

It was one of your first days off in what seemed like an extremely long time, so you thought it would only be fitting to do some exploring today. You had always wanted to try this coffee shop, as it was acclaimed for its signature “Hero Themed” Lattes, so of course you had to at least try one.

The line was fairly long, as any popular cafe would be in the morning, people bustling to get their caffeine fix before they did their daily routine.

You got a spot in line, opening up the cafe’s Instagram page to look at all the wonderful options. Everything looked so yummy and delicious, your mouth salivating at each picture posted. Your eyes were glued to the screen, your feet only moving once you felt the body in front of you inch forward.

It didn’t take long for a chirpy voice to call in front of you, a welcoming “Next Please!” ringing against your ear. You looked up, your mind finally deciding on what drink you wanted- until your eyes landed on quite possibly the prettiest boy you had ever seen.

His hair was unruly and curly, a mixture of greens cascading across his face. His eyes complimented his hair so well, the bright emerald orbs full of happiness and kindness. He was just adorable, his pearly white smile aimed straight at you, not a hit of worry amidst the chaos around him from the morning rush.

You gave him a meek smile, your cheeks on fire-god, how were you gonna order and not be completely flustered? This boy was literally gorgeous!

Your feet took you to the counter as you clutched your phone with shaky hands.

“Hi miss, what can I getcha?” He asked sweetly, his hands grabbing a cup. A Sharpie was posed in his fingers, waiting to start writing down exactly what you wanted to order. After being blessed with this beautiful specimen of a man in front of you, you completely forgot what you wanted to drink.

You hastily looked at the menu above your head, searching for the coffee you had planned to ask for. Nothing seemed right, and you were cursing yourself for looking so clueless. 

This poor guy was probably already super busy, and you were now holding him up!

“Having some trouble?” He asked, noticing your obvious dilemma.

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” you apologized, your lips shaped in a soft smile, “I kinda forgot what I wanted to order!”

“Oh no worries, really, I totally understand!” he grinned, “the menu is pretty big!”

“Yeah, it is!” you chuckled lightly, your cheeks feeling warm. “What do you recommend?”

The boy smiled at you, your heart swooning. God, how could he be so pretty!!

Wait-did he have freckles?!? The faint specks sparkled against his pinkish cheeks, making you fall for the boy even more. You had barely talked to this boy for 2 minutes and you were already head over heels.

He seemingly didn’t notice your heart pained crisis, his eyes bright as ever.

“Oh, everything on the menu is amazing! The Hawks latte is quite nice, it’s very light and airy-as well as the Endeavor, but it has cinnamon and gives it a pretty good kick-” he began rambling on about the drinks, his eyes brightening just talking about them. You couldn't fathom how he could talk so fast, the words melding into one as he listed off the most popular drinks.

His voice was melodic though, so soft and calming-yet so excited too. His voice could make calculus interesting to you.

“-but my personal favorite is the All Might drink,” he blushed slightly, his face clearly a little embarrassed as he relayed this information to you.

You grinned at his adorable expression, noticing the small All Might pin he had neatly stuck into the front of his apron.

“You're an All Might fan I’m assuming?” You noted, your voice amused and kind as you pointed at the enamel pin.

He touched the front of his apron, looking down as he tried to follow your line of eyesight.

“Oh-oh yeah!” He smiled brightly once he realized what you were referring to, “ever since I was a kid, he’s always been my favorite!”

He beamed at you, his voice stuttering slightly.

He was so adorable and  a nerd too? God, you could marry him on the spot. 

You grinned at him, flashing the back of your phone case and revealing the All Might pop socket in the back.

His eyes widened like saucers in shock, his smile growing even wider as he laid eyes on the fan merch.

“I might be an All Might fan myself,” you admitted, your heart thumping in your chest.

“Then you have to try the All Might latte!” He exclaimed, “If-if you want to try it of course..”

“I’m down!” You smiled brightly, watching how his face light up when you agreed as he hastily wrote down the drink order on the side of the cup.

“Can I-I get your name?” He stuttered slightly, his eyes wide and doe-like.

His hand holding the Sharpie was hovering over the cup, watching you with expectant eyes. You took a small breath, your words about to spill out of your mouth-until an extremely loud blender erupted in noise behind the counter.

“It’s y/n,” you tried to yell over the sounds, feeling a little bit of awkwardness fill your stomach as he cocked his head to the side, obviously confused.

He opened his mouth, words dribbling out but nothing being heard as the machine continued to whir on.

You internally cursed that damn thing for ruining the cute moment you had with this hot barista, your cheeks aflame as you nodded numbly to his question.

Whatever he asked couldn’t matter that much-right?

He smiled widely, accepting your answer as he hastily wrote your name on the side of the cup and told you the price of the drink. You quickly paid, your eyes drinking him in one last time-he was just so cute and adorable, you wanted to permanently get each detail of his emblazed into your memory.

He handed you your receipt and change back to you, his grin as wide as ever.

“My name is Izuku-Izuku Midoriya,” he added, his cheeks warm and his voice stuttering slightly, “just in case if you need anything else!”

You giggled softly, a little confused by his comment but nevertheless ecstatic by it.

His name! It was so unique, yet so innocent sounding and kind, you couldn’t help but feel your heart soar at the sound.

“Thank you Izuku,” you waved him politely, your heart pumping as you found an empty table to sit and wait for your drink. Your arms rested on the cool surface, the chair squeaking slightly as you shifted in a comfortable position. The machines continued to whir, the sounds of multiple conversations cascading throughout the small space. You began going through your social media, trying to suppress the wide smile that was trying to blossom over your face. You had just met the cutest guy ever- and weren't even trying! It almost felt so surreal, as if this moment was too good to be true.

“MIru!”

You began to hear his voice repeating a name, calling out for a customer to get their drink. You continued to look down at your phone, a small part of you saddened that it wasn't your name he was calling out.

“Uh-Miru?”

He continued to call out that same name, his voice getting a little louder each time. He almost sounded worried, hesitant even, as if he was confused about what was going on.

Thats weird- that person should have gotten their drink by now, you thought vaguely, noticing people were beginning to notice his voice as well.

“Wait, why are they looking at me?” you wondered, A small ounce of panic filling your stomach, making it feel heavy like lead as you finally looked around. 

A few customers were giving you strange looks, your head swiveling now to look at Izuku.

Wait- why is he looking at me? You thought in horror, your eyes meeting the kind, emerald orbs of Izuku’s. He looked relieved once you finally made eye contact with him, a bright smile blossoming under those freckled cheeks of his. He gave a tentative wave, motioning for you to come over.

Well thats weird-the name he was calling out wasnt even close to yours-

You got up anyway, unable to disobey the kind eyes of Izuku. You pushed your chair under the table, the legs squeaking against the shiny floor as you shuffled your way to the counter.

“Hi again!” he said cheerfully, his voice shy and sweet against your ears. ‘Its-Miru, right?”

Oh no-wait-

You finally put two and two together, a horrible realization bursting inside you- 

he heard your name wrong.

Oh crap, why did this have to happen to you? How did he hear get your name that bad?? 

 You finally meet a nice guy, someone actually genuine and kind, you hit off of, and bam-something comes to screw it all up.

In this case-an obnoxiously loud blender turned on at just the worst time.

You licked your lips, your mouth parting slightly to tell him, no, in fact, that was not your name-

But you looked again at that charming face of Izuku’s, his expressions glazed with innocence and nerves as he waited expectantly for your answer. The poor guy had called out this random name for a 2 whole minutes, probably feeling so idiotic as he waited for you to come and get your drink. Your cheeks burned at the thought, feeling embarrassed for both you and him. He must have felt so awkward standing there, just staring at you in confusion as he called out your “name” and you not even moving a muscle! If you told him he had gotten your name completely wrong, he would feel even worse about the whole situation, most likely feeling extremely embarrassed for something that wasnt even his fault.

You didnt want to make him feel anymore nervous or awkward than he already felt-you decided to swallow your pride, your head meekly nodding in a “Yes.”

His face immediately light up, obvious relief flooding his expression.

“Oh, thats great!” he exclaimed, a nervous chuckle spilling from his lips, “for a second there, I thought I was saying your name wrong…”

“Yeah, imagine how embarrassing that would be,” you said, your voice hesitant as you gave him a nervous smile.

Oh, if he only knew.

“I-uh-I don't when you'll be able to come back, but-but I have some pro hero collectibles I'd really like to show you-of course, only if you're interested!” the poor boy was stuttering again, his words melding into one.”IknowyourprobablyreallybusyandIdon'twanttopressureyouitsjustIvenevermetagirlwholikeheroessomuch-”

You laughed sweetly at the boy’s obvious dilemma, his speech beginning to quicken at an ungodly rate as his cheeks blossomed adorably with red.

“You're a talker, aren't ya?” you said between giggles, your hand grabbing the drink from his. Your fingers brushed against each other momentarily, your heart quickening by the sudden contact.

“Id love to see them Izuku,” you gave him a small smile, his green orbs widening slightly and then scrunch up into a bright, nervous grin  as he scratched the back of his neck.

“Can you come in on Tuesday-at 8? I know thats a little early but we aren't very busy then-”

You looked up, your teeth catching your lip as you thought over your schedule, the drink beginning to chill your palm.

“Thats sounds perfect, Ill see you on Tuesday, then,” you gave the boy a small smile, your eyes glinting mischievously, “Ill bring my signed All Might poster with me too-”

“A WHAT?!” he practically screamed those words, his voice giddy with excitement. “THE All MIght signed your-”

“Hey, Fanboy, can you please come back- we kinda need your help right now!” A girl with pink skin and piercing yellow eyes yelled over her shoulder, both her hands occupied as she swirled whip cream over two drinks at the same time. A girl with a brown bob was taking orders at warp speed, her face clearly in distress as the line somehow got longer as you two were talking.

“Oh-uh-of course Mina, Ill be right there!” he yelled back, his shyness returning as he gave you a small smile.

“Im sorry, I have to go-”

“No worries! I dont want to be taking more of your time,” you replied, a little bit of embarrassment dripping inside you as you sipped your coffee. Even though you felt guilty for talking to him for so long, you couldnt help but feel warm and fuzzy all over. He asked to to come back! This guy was so adorable you could practically scream. “Ill see you on Tuesday then?”

“Yeah-Tuesday!” he chuckled softly, “It was nice meeting up Miru.’

Oh yeah-he didnt actually know your name.

Your cheeks flushed with red , embarrassment building inside you as you remembered the miscommunication.

“Uh-uh-yeah, bye Izuku!” you hastily replied back as you walked over to the exit, making sure to keep your back to the boy as you used your shoulder to open it, a burst of chilled air hitting you.

God, your cheeks were so red- you sucked on your drink, hoping the intense coldness would cool down your face some.

It sucked that he had heard your name wrong, but the guy was too hot-you just didnt have the heart to tell him the truth then and there.

Oh well, you sighed, walking back to your car, there’s always time….

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ

Next time never came.

You, of course, took Midoriya on his offer to meet up with him the next week. He had shown you pictures of his collection of hero figurines, and boy did he have a lot.

He seemed sheepish, showing you, his cheek blossoming red like a tomato, his freckles like specks of stars pecking out of a hazy sunset. He had stuttered as he held out his phone (an All Might phone case in the back of course), as he explained that he had been collecting since he was a kid.

You chuckled at his adorable demeanor- but god, he really had been collecting for years! His whole room was decked out in All mIght gear-it was quite impressive, but you had to giggle at the kid-ish nature of the room.

You, of course, had brought in the poster, which had brought tears to poor Midoriya's eyes. You would have thought he had won the lottery, his shrieks of excitement filling the empty cafe as he gushed over the signature

 It was strange to see him without a crowd of people, the stress nowhere evident in his soft complexion as he freaked out over your piece of memorabilia.

You could truly appreciate him and his beauty when he wasn’t scrambling to get orders now, his laugh bright and unapologetic, his fanboy screams squeaky yet sweet. He radiates brightness, his whole body like a ball of energy of warm sunshine.

A bright sun in the cosmos.

You were gravitated to him, unable to stop yourself to want to know more and,learn everything about him: what he liked, what he didn’t like, his favorite food, his favorite color, his aspirations in life-any and every thing that made up Izuku Midoriya you wanted to document like you were his personal biographer.

It did feel awkward that he still called you by that silly name, but you were too embarrassed at that point to even confront him about it. You had visited his shop on the same day and time for the past 2 months, pegging for the poor boy like a puppy yearning for attention. At this point, you were getting quite antsy to go out with him, but he was still so nervous around you you were afraid to screw it up.

If you told him your name was wrong, would he be too embarrassed? Would it screw up the relationship you two had created from quick interactions behind a counter? Had you catfished in some weird way by playing along with the name he had mistakenly given you?

You were overthinking it, you knew it, but you were too terrified about the possibility of losing Izuku that you sucked up your worries. You had taken the name as a nickname now, the sound coming from his lips making your ears ting red and biting your lip in embarrassment. You were dying to hear your real name play against his lips, wondering how the word would sound in his sweetly honey voice

“Here ya go, one Mirko cappuccino!” Izuku shouted sweetly, his bright teeth gleaming under the fluorescent lights and morning sun.

You smiled at the green headed boy, your hands resting on the marble. The top felt cool against your skin, the flecks of brown like confetti as it glimmered against the lights.

You watched as he shuffled from behind the counter, sliding through a small gate as he walked towards you. Your heart skipped a beat dramatically.

He rarely came out from behind the counter, but when he did, it always made your breath disappear and your eyes get wide with flusteredness. For some reason, seeing him in all his glory, from his shaggy forest hair to his well built forearms made your mouth dry as you stared into those green orbs of his.

That permanent blush still played in his cheeks, the freckles matching the glimmering countertop perfectly as he stared down at you slightly. He handed you the drink, his fingers brushing against yours gently.

You internally screamed, your heart palpitating from the feathery touch. His skin was so warm and rugged, your index brushing gently against a raised scar. You had never noticed that slight imperfection on his otherwise unblemished skin, and your mind began reeling at the possibilities to why it was there.

Just another part of Midoriya you wanted to desperately learn and selfishly document for yourself.

You wrapped your hands around the thick paper of the cup , the texture rough yet warm against your fingertips.

“Can you maybe tell me how it tastes the next time you come in?” He looked down at you with a sheepish grin, his lips plump and pink as he talked, “ I’ve never made one before and I hope I didn’t make it too strong with the cinnamon,”

You took a deep breath, trying to will yourself to calm down. You internally thanked that Izuku was pretty oblivious to any type of flirting, or he would have definitely noticed you gawking at his lips.

“Definitely!” you smiled, “I’ll think you’ll be fine though, Mirko is a pretty feisty hero. There’s not enough cinnamon in the world to match her personality,”

Izuku chuckled at your comment, his hand scratching the back of his neck. “That’s very true! She definitely is one of the more spicier drinks we have...Im still experimenting with hers to make it just right,”

You nodded with his words, taking a sip of the drink as he talked. It really was filled with spice, the slight burn of the cinnamon pleasant as it rolled down your throat.

“I’ve actually been also working on a new drink as well,”

“Oh really,” your eyes widened in curiosity, “what hero is it based off of?”

A blush creeped onto his rosy cheeks yet again, his eyes downcast as he avoided your gaze.

““It’s not a hero, actually, just-it’s-kinda- special to me-since I’ve been thinking about it for some time... if that makes sense…

“I get it,” you said, your voice reassuring, “you're just really passionate about it-Im excited to try it, anything you make is amazing!”

“Oh-oh thank you!” he chuckled at your praise, unable to stop the stutters spilling from his mouth.

“I’m-I’m not quite done with it, but next time you come… I can explain it more and let you try it if you like!”

“Of course! I’d love to,” you smiled at the greenette, blood rushing to your ears as you stared at his bright complexion.

You swallowed thickly, not sure where to look as you tried to erase the flustered expression on your face.

He was too good and pure for this world-This boy could stomp on your heart and you’d say thank you.

You shakily stepped away from him, your hands clutching the drink like an anchor as you walked yourself to the door. you waved him a small goodbye, a smile gracing your lips as your eyes drank in Izuku one last time. It was a shame you only saw him for once a week, and you made sure to burn his image into your mind to satiate you for the next few days.

“Bye ‘Zuku, Ill see you next week!”

He waved back to you, a bright grin displayed on his rosy cheeks.

“Bye!”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ

He heard the chime of the door jingle as you walked out the door, his eyes following you as you walked away from the store.

He watched you through the elongated windows of the cafe, your drink he made you in hand as he peered through the window. He did this every time you left, his neck straining as he tried to follow you, making sure you got into your car safely.

Heat rose in his cheeks, watching you walk away from him leaving a sad pit in his stomach.

He hated watching you leave, but it never stopped him from gawking at you when you go.

His breath felt tight in his chest, pure love flooding from his heart as your hair flowed delicately with your walk, his eyes trailing down to your beautiful legs-

“Hey Fanboy, you done gawking at your girlfriend,” he heard his pink skinned coworker call, her tone amused and teasing.

He jumped from where he was standing, his face erupting in red as he stumbled around his words.

“Oh-uh-hey Mina, I wasn’t doing anything I don’t know what your talking about-“

She walked around the counter, her finger pointing at him accusingly.

“Don’t lie to me mister! I know a love sick boy when I see one-and you,”

She poked her finger into his chest, her pink lemonade skin intimidatingly close to his, “are love sick.”

She threw her head back, her voice booming and bright- “You can come out Ochaco!”

The brown bob of Izuku’s other worker peaked out from the back door, her eyes wide with relief.

“Oh good! I would have felt bad if I walked in on you guys flirting-“

Izuku waved his hands frantically in front of him, his face as red as a tomato.

“We weren’t flirting I swear thatsnotwhatitwas-“

Mina laughed at the boys clear distress, her cotton candy tresses bouncing as she shook her head.

“You can’t fool us Midoriya-whenever your flustered your voice goes up like 10 octaves and you get redder than Kirishima’s hair,”

Izuku chuckled nervously as he tried to cover up his nerves as his coworker berated him. Ochaco walked over to the two, her kind aura making the air a little less thick as she looked up at Izuku with sympathy.

“It’s really sweet you like that girl so much-she seems to like you alot too,”

Mina shook her head in agreement, her canines glinting in the morning light.

“Oh definitely! Any girl that would still hang around after seeing Midoriya’s All MIght Room must be a keeper-“

“Have you gotten her number yet Midoriya?” Ochako asked, her eyes wide and curious, “Have you messaged her?”

Izuku scratched the back of his head, his eyes downcasted. He already knew the reaction he was going to get from his bubbly and sometimes feisty coworkers, and he wasn’t quite ready for their outburst.

“Oh no, well, we never exchanged numbers-“

“YOU NEVER EXCHANGED NUMBERS?!? Mina practically screamed, her yellow eyes blown huge like lemons.

“ We are in the 21st century Midoriya!” She yelled,

“Well we never quite got to-doing that-“ Izuku tried to reason, Mina clearly still flabbergasted and not impressed by his excuse

“Still-how.have.you.not. DONE THAT?!?”

Uraraka looked between the two, Mina on her tippy toes as she chewed him out, Izuku flushed with red. It was almost comical to watch, yet Uraraka felt sympathy for the poor boy who knew nothing about romance.

“Mina maybe-“ Uraraka placed a hand on the pink girl’s shoulder.

“Unbelievable!!” Mina continued, her head shaking, “I swear you live under a rock! Why haven’t you-she’s clearly into you!!”

Izuku’s eyes were like saucers, his hands shaking as he denied the girl.

“Oh no, she’s not, she can’t-were just friends, I bet she only come she only comes here for the coffee-“

Mina placed her hand on her hip, giving Ochaco a side eye look. The two girls watched the blubbering Izuku spill falsities from his lips, both quite sick of his denial

“Midoriya-,” Mina stated, her voice serious and honest, “there is no way-this girl is only ‘coming for the coffee’”

Uraraka nodded with Mina, her voice sweet like honey as she confirmed her pink friend’s words.

“You should see how she looks at you Izuku-her face lights up and her cheeks get so blushy! And whenever you talk to her her smile gets so much brighter!”

“You should see her when she looks at your behind too-“

“Mina!”

Uraraka swatted the girl playfully with her arm, earning a laugh from the pink toned girl.

“What, it’s the truth! She likes you Midoriya, she’s practically head over heels-“

Izuku listened to the two girls sheepishly, not knowing quite what to do with himself. All these weeks he had been hoping against hope you had liked him back-ever since that day he met you he felt he was destined to know you. He had never met a girl so welcoming and sweet, let alone as gorgeous as you. The fact you had accepted his quirky, nerdy side so quickly as well as were interested in his obsessions practically made his heart swoon with joy. Every week he looked forward to seeing you, counting down the minutes and seconds before he heard that welcome chime of the door announcing your arrival every Tuesday morning.

He thought about you all the time, wishing he knew what it felt like to hear your voice over the phone, to hold your hand, to see you in a pretty dress as he took you out to a nice restaurant...He was scared of rejection, and the fear you didn't like him back suffocated him, but these words from his coworkers were definitely boosting some of his confidence.

“R-really???” He stuttered, “ I-I didnt know all that…”

The two girls nodded their heads, their smiles wide as they watched their flustered coworker.

“You like her back, right?” Uraraka tilted her head, her brown strands cascading across her cheeks.

Izuku nodded his head quickly, his eyes wide and cheeks aflame.

Mina reached out, her hands latching onto Midoriya's bicep and squeezing reassuringly. “Then ask her out-Or at least get her number so the poor girl isn’t spending her money on coffee every week to just see you-“

“I-I actually was going to ask the next time she came in,”

Izuku looked to his side as the two girls gasped in awe. Uraraka let a squeal slip from her lips, her cheeks bright as ever.

“Oh Izuku that’s amazing! How were you going to ask?”

He shuffled his feet, feeling a little exposed with all the excessive attention on him. His hands began to squirm and wring together, his eyes looking to the side under his coworkers intense stares.

“Well, I-I made this new drink...and I actually made it based off of her- I’ve been writing down all the flavors she likes and doesn’t like and making a drink that’s perfect for her...,”

His coworkers were quiet-too quiet.

He looked up, a pit of fear growing in his stomach as he gazed at each of their faces, their shocked faces making him feel insecure about his plan.

“Is that-too weird??” He asked hesitantly.

The air left his chest as the two girls threw their bodies at him in a tight bear hug, their voices gushing over the boy.

“Oh Izuku that’s adorable!”

“You're such a meat head about love but thats so freaking cute!”

Ochaco and Mina were squealing, the tightness of their hug squeezing all air from his lungs. His knees locked from the sudden force, stumbling as he tried to support the two gushing girls.

“It’s was just an idea, I didn’t realize you two would like it-“ he squeaked out.

The two girls finally let go of their vice-like hug, their giggles and smiles radiating off their faces.

“We LOVE.” Mina started, her grin wide. “As women, we put our stamp of approval!”

“Really?”

“Of course! It’s honestly so adorable, I’m kinda jealous-“

As Mina was praising the blushing boy, Ochaco looked out the window, her smile slowing dropping into a tired grin.

“Uh, guys… I think we should start getting ready…”

A massive group of what seemed like 10 women in work clothing were bounding down the street, their eyes staring through the windows of the cafe as if they were already anticipating stepping inside.

Mina sighed, her face hardening as she started walking to the drink station, already prepping drink cups for the anticipated rush.

“But not as jealous as I am of that flower business that closed down last week. Get ready babes, morning rush is coming!”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ

It was finally the next week, and you were extremely excited to see Midoriya again. Even if it was only for a few minutes, just speaking to him light up your whole day and the rest of your week. 

You wished sadly you could get to see or hear from him every day, instead of every week, but you knew the boy was too nervous still to say anything about his feelings (if he did have them towards you). You were getting antsy with each passing visit to just ask him out yourself, but you were too afraid of scaring off the flustered boy. 

You weren't very keen on just letting him go though, so you decided you’d keep up this little arrangement you two had-For as long as it would take.

You opened the glass door of the cafe, a gust of cold air sweeping your lungs and the scent of coffee enveloping your nose. You took a deep breath in, willing your heart to calm down to the calming scent.

As you did every time you came, no one was inside-Midoriya really knew when the cafe was empty. You bypassed the long line, walking yourself over to the front counter.

Midoriya seemed to not have noticed your entrance, his back towards you as he hummed to the song playing softly throughout the shop. You smiled at his adorable sounds, appreciating the broadness of his back as his green tresses cascaded against his neck.

You cleared your throat slightly, smiling softly as Midoriya turned around. He jumped slightly at your sudden entrance, a soft yelp cascading out of his lips.

“Oh hey Miru!I didn’t even notice you came in!”

He chuckled as you winced slightly at the name, quickly recovering with a sheepish smile.

“Obviously” you giggled, resting your hands on the cool countertop, “ you looked like you saw a ghost!”

You gazed into his green orbs, the color sending a warm shiver along your back. They were so vibrant, so expansive, that it was like getting lost in a forest, yet you weren’t scared in the slightest. You welcomed that lost feeling, that sense of adventure to flood your systems and calm your fluttering heartbeat. 

 If you weren’t careful though, you’d get lost in those galaxies that were his eyes, forever adrift in those irises.

He smiled at you, the apples of his cheeks prominent with freckles as he gazed down at you.

“Well it’s felt so long since I last saw you!” He exclaimed, a warm hue in his cheeks.

You smiled mischievously, tilting your head at the boy. “I hardly think 5 days is a ‘long time’,”

“Well, for me it is,” Izuku stared blissfully at your face, his voice extremely soft and gentle.

Your head exploded with happy screams and alarms, feeling the heat rush to your face. He was looking at you with those doe-like eyes, like he was basking in peace with your presence next to him.God, why did he have to be so cute?

He seemed to not even notice how his comment sounded until he noticed your change in demeanor, your cheeks and ears tinged with an intense red. Once it dawned on him he had just-well-flirted with you, he became instantly flustered.

He chuckled uncontrollably, his voice going up an octave.

“I, Uh,well I mean it’s just felt like a while and I have seen you in quite a bit of time did you get a new hair cut maybe that’s what it is-“

You giggled , shaking your head. The poor boy was a stuttering mess, his tongue melding his words into one to the point you couldn’t distinguish a thing.

It always made you feel better about your flusteredness around Midoriya-no matter how nervous you felt, Midoriya always seemed to be ten times more nervous than you.

You reached across the counter, your hand tentative as your fingers laid against his.

You internally screamed in happiness-the skin feeling so comfortable and warm against your own. Your movement seemed to hush Midoriya long enough for him to stop stuttering, his Adam’s Apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly.

His cheeks were red with heat, his eyes wide as he stared at you.

“It’s fine, really,” you grinned, “5 days feels pretty long to me too.”

You let your hand rest on Midoriyas for a few more seconds, memorizing the soft texture of his skin in your own.

 It was intoxicating, he was intoxicating, and it took everything out of you to pull yourself away.

You were now outright flirting with him, even if he wasn’t intentionally flirting with you. He was fidgeting and blushing like a schoolgirl-he clearly knew you were flirting back.

 You bite your lip in fear, hoping you didn’t scare him off.

“So, Uh, you said you had a new drink?” You said awkwardly, not quite sure how to act normally after your comment, “were you able to finish it?”

Izuku perked up, a grin gracing his face as his cheeks were still on fire.

“Oh! Yeah I did actually!” He swallowed again, his hands wringing together. “Did-did you want to try it?”

“Of course!” You beamed at the boy, your heart skipping as your eyes focused on those adorable freckles. Your hand went to your wallet, already skimming for your debit card. “How much do I-“

He instantly waved his hands in front of him, stopping your search.

“Don’t worry,” he reassured your confused expression, a timid smile in his lips. “This ones on the house,”

“Oh-okay,” you thanked the boy, earning a small nod as he began to make your drink.

Whenever he made your order, he was usually so talkative, speaking about anything and everything from hero stats to college classes. Yet, for some reason the boy was extremely quiet as he crafted your drink.

It made you feel uneasy-did you scare him? You knew Izuku was pretty flustered to any type of flirting-hell, he would blush if you simply said “Good Morning.”

Maybe you make him uncomfortable? A pit grew in your stomach at the thought, not knowing quite what to do as you watched him do his work.

But he didn’t seem that on edge, right? He didn’t push your hand away, and his smiles were still genuine. Maybe he was just worried about making the drink right-

Right?

Izuku broke your train of thought as he was now standing right next to you, his chest mere inches from yours as he stared down at you with loving eyes. His hand held your drink, the coffee the color of thick honey. His fingers were fidgeting slightly, as if his nerves were taking over as he presented it to you with a sheepish grin.

You didn’t expect him to be so close, but you weren’t regretting it at all. Your heart felt tight against your chest, blood rushing to your ears as the only thing you could focus on was Midoriya’s presence so close to yours.

You cleared your throat, trying to act casual and hide your clearly obvious shock.

“For me?” You asked thickly, wincing internally at your question. 

Of course it was for you, you were the only person in this whole cafe getting coffee! 

Sometimes Midoriya could make your brain feel like mush-and you didn’t quite enjoy it.

He seemed to not notice how silly your question sounded, his head bobbing a “yes”.

“I-I hope you like it,” he smiled sweetly, handing you the drink. 

Your hands grazed yet again, your heart palpitating as you took a sip of the drink. It was cold against your dry tongue, coating it in its sugary goodness.

Your eyes were instantly went wide like saucers once the flavor enveloped your tongue-holy shit, this was good-like liquid gold.

“Oh my god, Midoriya,” you said between gulps of the amber liquid, “this is-amazing!”

He chuckled softly at your obvious praises, his hands scratching the back of his neck.

“I was hoping you’d say that….I-“ he swallowed, his face contorted in two, as if he was battling internally with something. 

You looked up, momentarily pausing your gulps as you watched the boy with concern. He took a deep breath, his face downcasted and worried as he began to speak, his voice quiet and vulnerable.

“I-I actually based it off of you, and the flavors you like. 

All these coffees are based off of heroes, people that are extremely special to my life and have been my obsession since I was a child and even now. It’s just so strange to me though, because for as long as I could remember heroes and their work were the only thing I could ever really think of. But-but there's been something that’s been taking up my thoughts, and their the only thing I can think about-I guess you could say I have a new obsession.”

You looked up at him with shocked eyes, your lips parted as you stared at him with a thumping heart.

His voice was so soft, so gentle-as if he was pouring out all his feelings in just a few breaths.

“And what's that?” You asked hesitantly, leaning into the boy as you waited for his answer. You felt your lungs taking in less air, your nerves kicking in as you searched his face.

You watched his eyes suddenly look into yours, making your heart stop and your breath hitch in your throat. You felt yourself get fully enveloped in those green orbs, the expanse of forest caught in those irises of his. 

A gulp could be heard from Izuku, his cheeks red like cherries.

“My new obsession is-is you,” he struggled with the words, his voice timid and scared.

“I love talking to you Miru, I really do-and I was wondering if maybe-we could get lunch someday?? Without coffee involved?” He chuckled a little as he tried to lighten the mood, his eyes downcasted as he avoided your gaze.

You felt like you scream-it HAPPENED??? He was finally, finally asking you out??? You felt like you could cry and laugh at the relief flooding your body, your hands itching to wrap around his neck and kiss him from giddiness.

You restrained yourself from doing that, but the huge grin enveloping your face was hard to contain.

“I’d love to Midoriya! I’m so happy you asked, Ive been wanting to go out with you for so long now-“ you giggled nervously at your confession, your hands wrapped around your drink as you cuddled it close to your chest.

Your cheeks were suddenly enveloped in red, a  realization dawning on you, 

He still didn’t know your name-well, not your real name.

“Uh-one problem though,”

Midoriya’s eyes grew wide with concern, his lashes fluttering as he blinked.

“Oh-okay…” He replied timidly, “what is it?”

You sighed, your teeth catching your bottom lip in nervousness. How could you tell him that he had been calling you the wrong name for close to 2 months now?! Embarrassment filled your stomach, your mind internally kicking you for not correcting him a long time ago.

You cleared your throat, trying to make your tone sound nonchalant.

“Well-Miru  isn’t my name. My real name is y/n”

“Wait-what?!?” Midoriya practically shrieked, his eyes wide with bewilderment. His voice went up an octave, something you noticed he did when he was completely shocked. A small chuckle escaped your lips, his face completely comical.

“Yeah, the day we met you heard my name wrong… but I was too embarrassed to say anything, so I kinda just let you keep saying it-.”

“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry y/n I didn’t realize I was being so rude if I would have known I would have never called you that I cant believe i got your name so completely wrong-“

He was freaking out, you could tell-his whole face was red, his tongue slipping and flailing over his words as he tried to apologize profusely.

Your heart went out for the poor boy, guilt filling your stomach for not telling him sooner.

“It’s fine Izuku, really! It’s my fault I didn’t say anything! Let’s just exchange numbers and forget it all happened, Kay?”

Your hand lightly went out to touch his arm, your fingers laying lightly on his shirt sleeve as you smiled at him sweetly. That seemed to calm him down, the speed of apologies finally stopping against his lips.

“Oh-okay sure!” He returned your smile, his eyes bright and loving.

 “ Ya know, I like y/n better…”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ

Bonus:

“You idiot!” Mina shrieked, her hand flailing a spoon at him like a weapon. “You got her name wrong! How do you even do that!”

Izuku stuttered, unable to figure out how to calm down the fiery girl in her angry rant.

“It-it was a mistake, it was loud and I heard it wrong-“

Mina huffed, her yellow eyes piercing as she flung the spoon around again, Midoriya dodging it as she continued to scold him.

“You are lucky- she is one of the nicest girls you will ever meet! If you did that to any girl they’d drop your ass like a dead fly!”

“Mina I-“

Mina then pointed the spoon right at his face, his eyes going cross eyed as he stared at the curve of the utensil with fear. His hands went up as against his body, his palms out in a sign of peace as Mina leaned herself aggressively towards him.

“Don’t you dare mess this up Izuku Midoriya! She is the best thing you will ever find!”

Taggings:

@weebartistinc​ @orokayagi​ @leeeah-loooser​ @bakarinnie​ 

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch51: Captain America Homecoming

Intro: The team at the compound begin their experiment with the Quantum Tunnel, but it doesn’t all go according to plan. But just as everything seems lost, Tony appears having rethought his initial stance. And he has a little surprise for Steve.

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: I can’t give @angrybirdcr​ enough credit…she makes my images into, well, erm, images…

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 50

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Bruce needed a day to calibrate the computer and systems to the right configuration to use with Scott’s Quantum Tunnel (which was, amusingly yet completely unsurprisingly, in the back of his ugly brown van). Katie took the chance to head into the office to catch up and then inform Soraya she didn’t know how much she would be available in person over the coming week.

They had another day before they were due to collect Emmy from the train station, her five day trip to Philly was drawing to a close and when they had spoken to her last night she had been equal parts excited to come home and fed up that it was ending. But she would be back at school soon, and she had an important few weeks coming up as she was studying for her end of year exams. Neither of them were particularly concerned about that, however, as Emmy was a complete brainbox. Although she was only a freshman, she was taking APs in Human Geography and Psychology (having told her parents she wanted to be a Therapist) and was already being touted by her tutors as Harvard potential. Steve wasn’t overly keen about his daughter being in a different state, but all things considered, Boston wasn’t too far. And he knew he had to let her make her own decision so they’d cross that bridge when they got there.

For the time being, the only bridge Steve wanted to cross was the one he and Natasha were currently planning on making to reach out to the remaining original Avengers, Thor and Clint.

“Thor should be easy, surely?” Nat asked, swinging her feet up onto the table as she sat back in her seat. She looked to Steve for confirmation, but instead he sighed and shook his head.

“Has Katie not told you?”

“Told me what?”

Steve scratched at his chin. “He had a disagreement with one of the Elders about three months back. From what Valkyrie told Katie, there was a bit of an argument over the rebuilding of their army and the elder took a shot at Thor, saying he wasn’t fit to lead any kind of battalion as he had failed to keep them safe from Thanos.”

“That’s harsh.” Nat frowned.

“Yeah, I know.” Steve bit his lip. “I think it was more anger speaking than the guy actually thinking that, but it sent Thor into another downwards spiral and he’s ignored Katie’s attempts to reach out to him again so she’s given in.” “Okay, so, maybe a little harder than we anticipated.” “Least we know where he is. Any luck on Barton?”

“Rhodey thinks he’s targeting a gang in Hong Kong.” Nat sighed. “But I won’t know for sure until he arrives.”

Steve, nodded. “Well when we find out where he is we can scramble a jet and…” “No.” Nat shook her head “Not we, me. I’ll go alone.” “Nat.” Steve frowned “Clint, he’s been leaving a trail of utter carnage behind him, I don’t think you-“

“He wouldn’t hurt me.”

“It’s not him I’m concerned about, more the people he’s taking on.” “I can handle myself.” Nat replied, firmly as she looked at him. Her eyes were sparkling with that Black Widow venom Steve had to admit he had missed over the past few years. He took a deep breath and against his better judgement conceded.

“Alright. We’ll do it your way.”

Natasha frowned, and smirked. “Really? That’s it, no argument?”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “You want an argument?” “Not really.” She shook her head, smiling.

Steve gave a chuckle and then they were cut off by an incoming call springing up in front of Natasha. She swiped to her right and the hologram form of Rocket appeared on the desk.

“Hey Nat.” He nodded, turning to Steve, “Cap.We’re wrapping things up on that latest lead, then we have to nip to Contraxia as I need a few things,” he Raccoon explained, looking at them both, “should be with you day after tomorrow lunchtime, ish” “Rocket, you were close to Thor right?” Steve spoke, an idea coming to him.

“Kinda, why?” “We need him.” Steve stated simply. “He knows about the stones, but convincing him could be a bit of a task. So I was thinking maybe you could help and go with Katie to New Asgard.” The animal pondered for a while before he shrugged. “I can try.”

“That’s all any of us can do.”

The raccoon nodded again “Alright.” He turned to Nat. “We’ll see you soon.” And with that he disappeared.

Steve stayed at the compound until late afternoon, popping in to see how Bruce and Scott were getting on, before he made his way home. Katie and Jamie were already back and he could hear the two of them in the living room.

“Who’s that?” Jamie asked as he pointed to the photo in the album that his Mom had open on her lap.

“That’s your Uncle Sam.” She smiled at the photo of Steve and his best man at the reception of their wedding “You know you get your name from him, well one of them anyway.”

“Where is he now?” Jamie asked.

“He err…he went away” Katie said slowly as she tried to figure out how to explain this to a three year old. “You know how daddy has told you about his friend, Uncle Bucky?” “Yeah.” “Well, a few years ago, before you were born, The Avengers, well they had a fight, with a nasty man, and your Uncle Bucky and Uncle Sam, and one of our other friends, a lady called Wanda…they had to go away afterwards.”

“Was Uncle Tony in the fight?”

“Yeah, he was.”

“And Auntie Nat-Nat?”

“Yeah. And Thor. There were a lot of people involved?”

“Did you and daddy fight with the Avengers?” Jamie asked, his eyes wide.

At that point Katie looked up and saw Steve hovering in the door way. He swallowed and walked into the room.

“A long time ago buddy, yeah.” He nodded.

“Did you know Captain America?” Jamie’s eyes were now almost the size of dinner plates.

“I did yeah.” Steve nodded, kneeling down in front of his son. “But he gave up fighting.” Jamie pondered something as Katie looked at her husband. “Not for much longer though.” She locked eyes with him.

Steve took a deep breath and swallowed once more. He wasn’t sure he’d ever hold that shield again.

“Maybe.” he said, shrugging, before he stood up and settled on the couch at the other side of his son.

Jamie made to turn the page in the album and the next photo was one of Steve’s favourites and one they had a large framed version of on the mantel piece. It showed him and Katie at their first dance, heads pressed together, huge smiles on their faces as he held her close.

“Momma you look real pretty!” Jamie smiled and Katie dropped a kiss to his head.

“Thanks, Baby.” “Your momma always looks pretty.” Steve smiled “She’s the most beautiful girl on the planet.” “Charmer.” Katie looked at him as he stretched his arm over the back of his son and pulled her in closer.

“Only for you.” He winked, dropping a kiss to her cheek.

****** Tony stood at the sink, rinsing down the dishes from dinner whilst Pepper settled Morgan down for the night. He’d spoken to Kiddo earlier, she’d told him they were running the first Time Travel trial tomorrow. He’d managed to push it out of his mind for most of the afternoon but now, as he stood alone, he kept thinking about it over and over again. He knew Bruce was clever, but this really wasn’t his area…

What if something went wrong? Not his problem.

Tony’s grip on the attachment to the tap slipped and it jerked out of his hand, spraying water all over the place. With a sigh he turned it off and grabbed the tea towel, mopping up the water from around the sink and then the shelf which it had squirted all over. He glanced at the photos, and paused for a moment at the frame that was placed just to the right of the one which held a picture of his dad. He took a deep breath as he wiped the water off the faces- him and Peter Parker holding the fake Stark Internship Certificate upside down, each one pulling peace signs behind the other’s head. He swallowed.

“We can snap our own fingers. We can bring everybody back.”

Tony looked around his kitchen, his stomach turning slightly. Yes, he had something to fight for, something personal, the kid. They all had something personal right? Natasha had Clint’s family, Rogers and Kiddo had Barnes, Wilson and Wanda… Scott had his girlfriend, or whatever. But he couldn’t risk it. He shouldn’t risk it….

But they were going to risk it. He knew that. And they could, probably would, fuck it up without him.

“Damned it, Rogers.” He mumbled, placing the photo down and heading into the dining room.

Two hours later, Pepper was out in the greenhouse as she often was later at night and Tony was talking to FRIDAY, with whom he had been brainstorming a number of ideas for the past hour and a half. He looked the holographic model in front of him and tapped at the pad on the table.

“Look at a mod inspiration, let’s see if it checks out.”  He instructed, watching as the image changed in front of his eyes. “So…” he pressed a few keys again, “run one last sim before we pack it in for the night,” he clapped his hands together and paced round the side of the table, “this time, in the shape of a mobius strip, inverted, please.”

“Processing.“ FRIDAY replied as Tony crossed his arms and watched.

“Give me that Eigen value,” he reached out to spin the image with his hand, “that, particle factoring, and a spectral decomp,” he grabbed the bottle on the side of the table to take a drink of the smoothie he had made, “that will take a second.”

“Just a moment.”

“And don’t worry if it doesn’t pan out,” he replaced the top on his drink and grabbing a blueberry from the packet he had been eating, “I’m just kinda…” he trailed off chewing the fruit, as he watched FRIDAY do her business.

“Model rendered.”

The red words ‘Model Successful’ with a rating of ‘99.987%’ flashed in front of his eyes and Tony felt his mouth drop open, utterly bewildered by his discover. He fell back into his chair, looking up at it and his mouth flew to his hand. He, Tony Stark, had figured out how to do exactly what Lang had proposed, how to safely travel time.

Despite himself, he felt a certain level of pride and smugness, and he threw his arms out to his side. “Shit!” He laughed out.

“Shit.” A voice spoke from behind him, followed by a giggle. He paused, and turned to see his daughter was sat on the bottom stair, grinning at him.

He held his finger to his lips and shook his head. “What are you doing up, little miss?”

“Shit.” She repeated again.

“No, we don’t say that. Only Mommy says that word. She coined it, it belongs to her.”

“Why you up?” Morgan looked at him.

“Cause I got some important shit going on here,” Tony jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the hologram, “what do you think?”

Morgan shot him a frown and he took a deep breath, when she pulled that face she looked ridiculously like her Auntie. ”No, I got something on my mind,” he explained in a softer tone.

“Was it Juice Pops?” Morgan asked, hopefully.

“Sure was.” Tony looked at the other side of the room before he turned back to his daughter, “extortion. That’s a word.” He stood up and looked down at her. “What kind you want?” He asked, taking her hand and she stood up. “Great minds think alike. Juice Pops, exactly was on-” he looked back to the model then turned towards the kitchen “-my mind.”

A little while and a juice pop later Morgan was back in bed, demanding a story.

“Once upon a time, Morgoona went to bed. The end.” Tony grinned.

“That is a horrible story.” Morgan looked at him with a glare.

“Come on, that’s your favorite story.” He grinned and as she rolled her eyes he smiled. “I love you tons.” He made it clear that was the end of the conversation by standing up, kissing her on the forehead.

“I love you three thousand.” Morgan looked at him and Tony smiled.

“Wow.” he said, quietly. His daughter had an ability, very like Kiddo, to say things that sideswiped him, and made his chest burst with love, and this was one of those moments. He contemplated that for a moment before he stood up and turned off her lamp. “Three thousand, that’s crazy.”

He walked to the door, and closing it behind him, still grinning he told her “Go to bed, or I’ll sell all your toys, night night.”

By the time he reached the living room Pepper was back inside, sat on the couch reading a book.

“Not that it’s a competition-” Tony spoke and Pepper looked up at him “-but she loves me three thousand.”

“Oh does she now?” Pepper smiled.

“You were somewhere on the low six to nine-hundred range.” Pepper laughed and turned back to her book. Tony, still chewing on the juice pop stick looked back to where the model was still projecting over his table.

“What you reading?” He asked, although he wasn’t particularly interested. His mind was racing once more.

“Oh, it’s just a book on composting”.

“What’s new with composting?” His eyes were still on the image. “Interesting science…” she began, but he cut her off.

“I figured it out, by the way.” Tony looked back at her, removing the juice pop stick from his mouth.”

“And, you know, just so we’re talking about the same thing –“

“Time travel.”

“What?” Pepper whispered as Tony glanced back at the hologram, arms folded. “Wow,” her gaze dropped down slightly, “that’s amazing, and terrifying.”

“That’s right.” He dropped down beside her, his left arm hanging over the back of the sofa.

“We got really lucky.” Pepper said, stroking his arm.

“Yeah, I know.”

“A lot of people didn’t.” 

“No, but I can’t help everybody.”

“Well, it sorta seems like you can.” Pepper pressed again.

“Not if I stop.” Tony shrugged, and Pepper gave a small huff of a laugh. “I can put a pin in it right now, and stop.”

“Tony, trying to get you to stop has been one of the few failures of my entire life.”

Tony gave a soft laugh and his right arm gently rubbed the hand that was laid over his left arm.

“Something tells me I should put it in a locked box and drop it at the bottom of the lake, go to bed.”

There was a pause, before Pepper looked at him again, her eyes soft and her face rearranged into a knowing expression.

“But would you be able to rest?”

Tony didn’t reply, he didn’t need to. They both knew the answer was no. *******

“Alright, Emmy, remember what I said?” Katie looked at her daughter who was sat on the couch in the living room of their old quarters.

“Yeah, I can’t leave here until someone comes to get us.” Emmy nodded

“No matter what.”

“Yeah mom, I got it. We’ll be fine, wont we Jamie?”

Jamie nodded, grinning up at his mother “Yeah, fine.”

“Okay, love you both.”

With one last glance over her shoulder at her kids, Katie made her way back to the hanger.

“Breakers are set. Emergency generators are on standby.” She heard Steve call out as he strode back towards the computer. Katie couldn’t help but admire his ass, he looked pretty good in a pair of black denims, light blue shirt as always tucked in, belt circling his toned waist. He looked at her, raising an eyebrow with a smug smirk as he caught the expression on her face and she shrugged.

“Good, ‘coz if we blow the grid, I don’t wanna lose Tiny here in the 1950s,” Bruce said through gritted teeth, jerking his thumb at Scott, only his comment wasn’t quite as quiet as he thought. Scott, who was stood in his suit, fiddling with something on his helmet heard perfectly.

“Excuse me?” Scott glared at Banner as Katie and Steve exchanged a glance. .

“He’s kidding!” Natasha said in a playful voice, shaking her head as she tapped on the tablet she was holding which would be used to track Scott. She looked up with a smile, which Katie knew perfectly to be false and laughed. “You can’t say things like that.” Natasha looked at Bruce.

“Yeah, sorry, it was…just a bad joke.” He smiled as he looked at Scott. Scott nodded once as he walked back to the van.

“You were kidding right?” Katie looked at Bruce.

“I have no idea!” Bruce hissed. “We’re talking about time travel here, either it’s all a joke or none of it is!”  He looked away from Katie and flashed Scott the thumbs up. “We’re good.”

Steve crossed his arms and let out a breath as Scott pulled his helmet on. He gave Bruce a double thumbs up and Katie smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring way.

“Alright Scott, we’re gonna send you back a week, let you walk around for an hour, then bring you back in ten seconds. Make sense?” Bruce asked as he tapped at the keys on his desk with a pencil

“Perfectly not confusing.” Scott shrugged.

Okay, so now Steve was nervous. He took a deep breath and looked at the man stood by the back of the van, his hands dropping to his hips.

“Good luck Scott. You’ve got this.” He refrained from adding I hope.

“You’re right. I do Captain America.” Scott grinned, proudly, as Bruce hit a button, sucking him into the tunnel.

“On the count of three-“ Bruce called, and Steve dropped his hands, his fists clenching, mouth open slightly as he watched . At the other side of Bruce, Katie and Nat shared a nervous glance. “Three… two…one…” Steve breathed a sigh of relief as someone appeared but it was short lived as he realised the person in front of them could be no older than Emmy. Katie frowned as did Natasha, confusion etched across her face and next to them, Bruce adjusted his glasses.

"Guys, something doesn’t feel right.” The boy informed them nervously.

“What’s going on?” Steve asked, as Bruce set about pressing a load more buttons. “Hang on…”

“Is that Scott?” Katie’s eyes grew wide as she looked at Bruce, who ducked down to hit something on the console, her eyes locking with Steve who looked as utterly perplexed as she felt.

“Yes, it’s Scott!” The boy exclaimed.

Teenage Scott was sucked back into the tunnel, Natasha watching Bruce as he straightened up and the four of them looked back to the tunnel to see another person thrown out, this time an elderly man.

“Ow, my back!”

“What is this?” Steve asked

“Can I…I need a little space!” Bruce demanded as he moved to his right.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Steve hastily moved out of the way and going to stand in between his wife and Natasha. “Can you bring him back?”

“I’m working on it.” Bruce hit one of the screens. Katie, Steve and Nat shared another panicked look as Old Scott was yanked back in only to this time reappear as…

"That’s a baby.” Steve deadpanned.

“It’s Scott!” Bruce defended.

“As a baby!” Steve snapped as the infant looked up at them wide eyed.

“He’ll grow!” Bruce said, attempting a joke.

“Bring Scott back!” Steve instructed sharply.

“Nat, when I say kill the power, kill the power!” Bruce called and Natasha ran off to the breaker at the side of the hanger.

Katie and Steve watched as Bruce jabbed more buttons, before he yelled out “Kill it!”

Natasha pulled the lever down and Bruce slapped a large red button. This time Scott Lang returned exactly as he had been before he left.

“Somebody peed my pants.” He called out loudly, standing stiffly still. “I don’t know if it was baby me, or old me. Or, just… me-me.”

“Time travel!” Bruce beamed excitedly, throwing his hands out to the side as Katie, Steve and Natasha looked at him. “What? I, I see this as an absolute win.”

Steve simply stared at Bruce in silence for a moment, before he shook his head, placing his hands on his hips. He looked down at the floor before he walked off, Katie watching him as he left the hangar and stepped outside.

“I think we should take a break.” Katie took a deep breath. “Nat can you check the kids, I’m gonna…” She jerked her thumb after Steve and Nat nodded.

Steve stood outside by the large metal pillar at the side of the building, hands still on his hips as he stared at the floor. What was the point of being able to time travel if you couldn’t control it? The worse thing being that he wasn’t even sure if they would be able to perfect it with practice, and was he willing to keep risking Scott to do that? They had been so close, but Tony was right, it had clearly been a pipe dream.

“Hey.” Katie’s hand fell gently to his elbow. “Honey, we knew it was a long shot.” “I know.” He sighed, looking at her. “But I thought it might have worked, you know. That we might have had a chance to…”

He was cut off as a loud engine growled in the distance. They both looked out over the compound to see a familiar Audi R8 speeding down the drive towards the hangar. Katie and Steve exchanged a glance as the car pulled up to where they were stood, but overshot their position slightly. Steve followed the car with his eyes as it backed up and Tony rolled down the window and looked at them both. Steve raised his eyebrows, looking away.

“Why the long face?” Tony asked, directing his question to Steve. “Let me guess: He turned into a baby”

“Among other things, yeah.” Steve replied, an edge of frustration in his voice as he looked back at Tony. “What are you doing here?”

Tony opened the car door and climbed out, walking to the back, completely ignoring Steve’s question as he spoke.

“That’s the EPR Paradox. Instead of pushing Lang through time, you might’ve wound up pushing time through Lang.” Tony looked at Steve “It’s tricky. Dangerous. Somebody shoulda cautioned you against it.”

“You did.” Steve deadpanned, not in the mood for a lecture.

“Oh, did I?” Tony asked, raising an eyebrow and Katie felt a grin cross her face at her brother’s sarcasm “Thank God I’m here. Regardless, I fixed it” Steve raised his eyebrows as he glanced at his brother in law who held up his right hand which bore what looked like a watch of some description. “A fully functioning Time-Space GPS.

At this Steve let out a genuine smile as he realised Tony was here to help. Tony returned it with one of his own

“I just want peace.” He made the sign with his fingers. “Turns out, being angry and bitter is corrosive, and I hate it.

“Me too.” Steve nodded softly, recognizing this for what it was. An apology for the other day, and he was happy to provide his own.

“Guys, we got a shot at getting these stones, but I gotta tell you my priorities.” Tony urged softly, looking from Steve to Katie and back again “Bring back what we lost? I hope, yes. Keep what I got? I have to, at all costs”.

“So do we, Tony.”  Katie implored. “Our Kids, they’re the most important thing to us.”

“Nothing we do can jeopardise them.” Steve dropped his left arm round Katie. “Any of them.”

“And maybe if we could manage to not die trying, that would be nice.” Tony shrugged.

Steve smiled and held out his right hand. “Sounds like a deal.”

Tony shook it, before he smiled, cheekily, and headed to the trunk. Steve looked at his wife and she shrugged, before the two of them followed him, Steve watching curiously. Tony lifted something out, turned it upside down to dislodge the teddy bear sat on it and Katie’s hand flew to her mouth as she saw it was Steve’s shield.

Steve hesitated, taking a deep breath. “Tony… I don’t know..” He swallowed, the nerve twitching in his jaw. He wasn’t worthy of that shield, not anymore.

“Why? He made it for you.” Tony held Steve’s gaze. “Plus, honestly, I have to get it out of the garage before Morgan takes it sledding.” Steve looked over his shoulder at Katie, who was fighting back her tears and she gave him an encouraging nod. He lifted his arm and Tony slid the shield straps over his shirt and Steve looked down at it, taking a shaky breath. It felt like slipping into a familiar pair of sneakers. 

“Thank you, Tony.” Steve looked up at his brother-in-law, his voice choked as behind him, Katie dropped a hand to his shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to the spot between his shoulder blades, her face resting on his shirt.

“Will you keep that a little quiet? Didn’t bring one for the whole team.” Tony hesitated for a moment. “We are getting the whole team, yeah?

“We’re working on that right now.” Katie moved so she could see Tony, before she heard a yell behind her.

“Uncle Nee!” Jamie shot straight by her and launched at his Uncle.

“Hey, Sport!” Tony grinned, picking him up. “What you been up to?” “Me and Emmy were colouring and making dinosaur models.” “Wow!” Tony nodded, turning to Emmy who was walking towards them.

“Mom?” Her voice was a whisper as she spotted what Steve was holding. “Dad’s…” “Yeah.” Katie smiled at her, dropping an arm round the teenager’s shoulders as she continued to glance at his shield. Never one to miss anything, Jamie glanced at his Sister, then his dad and his eyes widened. 

“Why you have shield like Captain America?” Jamie frowned as Steve ran his fingers over the edge of the Vibranium before looking at his son as Tony placed him on the floor, struggling to find the words to explain.

Tony clapped Steve on the shoulder “Alright, I’ll leave that one with you. Time to go see what a mess of my compound Brucie has made. ”He walked passed Emmy, dropping an arm round her shoulders. “Walk with me kid, tell me about Philly.” He shot a glance at Katie who smiled as he steered the teenager back to the compound whilst she began excitedly telling him about her trip.

Steve turned to look Katie, his eyes glistening with emotion.

“Still suits you.” She smiled to him and he gave a little chuckle.

“Daddy!” Jamie insisted, tugging on his trousers, annoyed at his question being ignored.

“Sorry Pal,” Steve crouched down, shield still on his arm. “I have a shield like Captain America because I was Captain America.”

Jamie frowned before his eyes grew wide. An older kid might have laughed and told his dad to stop being silly, but Steve had never lied to Jamie before and it would never have occurred to the three year old to ever think he would.

“You were Captain America?” Jamie frowned. “When you fighted with the Avengers?”

“Yeah” Steve sighed, running his hand through Jamie’s golden hair. “I was.”

“Are you still Cap now?”

“I dunno.” Steve glanced back at his shield before he looked at Jamie, smiling gently.

“I think you are.” Jamie cocked his head to one side as his hand reached out to touch the shield. “Because Cap’s a hero and you’re my hero”

Katie saw Steve’s eyes water instantly as he pulled Jamie closer to him, dropping a kiss to the side of his head as the boy’s arms wound around his dad’s neck. He glanced up at Katie and she swallowed, leaning against the column to her left, wiping her eyes. It had been a long time since anyone had called any of the Avengers that, and to hear it from his son meant more to Steve than anything.

“Daddy?” Jamie mumbled against his dad’s shoulder, where his head lay.

“Yeah?” Steve cleared his throat.

“You got a helmet too?” Jamie pulled back to study his father’s face as Steve gave out a soft laugh

“Yeah buddy. I do.”

“And a uniform?”

“I have a few.” Steve nodded.

“Can I see?” Jamie’s face lit up and Steve glanced at Katie who smiled, nodding encouragingly.

“Sure… come on.” Steve stood up, Jamie easily lifted in his free arm. “You coming?” He stopped at his wife’s side as she reached up a hand to smooth down Jamie’s jumper which had ridden up slightly.

“I think this is a hero to son moment, don’t you?” She smiled, standing on her toes so she could give his lips a peck. “Besides, someone’s gotta stop Tony creating havoc in there.” “Good luck with that.” He muttered, giving her another kiss before he carried Jamie into the compound, striding through the hangar doors and across to the corridor. Katie waited for a moment, composing herself before she headed back inside.

**** True to their word, Nebula and Rocket arrived the following lunch and it wasn’t long after that Katie and Rocket headed off to New Asgard, along with Banner. Banner and Thor had shared a lot during the events leading up to Thanos’ attacking the Asgardian ship and Katie was hoping that together they stood a better chance of convincing the God to help. Katie sat in the passenger seat of the truck belonging to one of the Asgardians who had come to greet them. She couldn’t help but smile as they rolled past the sign at the side of the road WELCOME TO NEW ASGARD, PLEASE DRIVE SLOWLY. They stopped at the small port, and Katie hopped out of the truck, thanking the man, whilst Bruce and Rocket climbed out of the back.

“Kind of a step down from a golden palace for an Avenger highness and whatnot.” Rocket mused, looking around.

“Hey, have a little compassion, pal.” Bruce said gently. “First they’ve lost Asgard, then half the people. They’re probably just happy to have a home.”

Katie spotted Valkyrie who smiled at her, and then her face rearranged into surprise as she saw Bruce.

“You shouldn’t have come!” She warned as they approached her.

“Ah, Valkyrie! Great to see you, Angry Girl.” Bruce smiled.

“I think I liked you better either of the other ways.” She almost chuckled, taking in his appearance.

“This is Rocket.” Katie gestured to the raccoon.

“How you doin’?” He greeted her.

Valkyrie nodded at him before she turned to Katie. “He won’t see you.

“Still that bad, huh?” Katie folded her arms.

“We only see him once a month, when he comes for-“ she looked over to the pile of kegs on the side of the port, “-supplies.

“It’s that bad?” Bruce mumbled.

“Yeah.”

“We have to try.” Katie bit her lip, looking round before she turned to Bruce and Rocket. “Come on.” She led them down the side of the harbour and they walked up the small, cobbled street towards the fishing hut Thor was living in. Katie paused, and tried the handle. It opened and Rocket stepped in first. Instantly, Katie was hit with a smell that made her nose wrinkle. It was a combination of dirty clothes, stale beer and old take-outs.

“What the… woo!” Rocket grimaced, waving his paw in front of his nose. “Something died in here.”

“Hello? Thor?” Bruce called.

Thor’s voice rumbled through to them from another room. “Are you here about the cable?”

They made their way into the main room and Thor, who was shirtless, having definitely put on more than a couple of pounds since Katie had last seen him, was walking across the room gesturing to the TV.

“The Cinemax ran out about two weeks ago, and the sports are all kind of fuzzy.” He grabbed a beer from the ice bucket and Katie looked at Bruce who was frowning.

“Thor?” He asked, his voice disbelieving.

Thor turned and took a moment to look at the three of them, before his face cracked into a smile

“Boys!” He laughed out. “Little Stark! Oh my God! It’s so good to see you!” He crossed towards Rocket, trying to hug him, his knuckles rubbing the raccoons head. “Come here, you little rascal!”

“No, I’m good. I’m good. That’s not necessary.” Rocket groaned, wriggling away.

“Hulk, Little Stark, you know my friends, Miek, Korg, right?”

Miek and Korg were sat on a couch, the Rock creature in a Hawaiian shirt, play station controller in his hand playing what looked to Katie like Fortnite- one of Emmy’s favourites.

“Hey guys!” Korg raised his hand in greeting.

“Hey!” Bruce smiled. “Long time no see.”

“Beers in the bucket. Feel free to log on to the Wi-Fi. No password, obviously.” Korg said cheerfully as he turned back to his game, growing suddenly serious. “Thor, he’s back. The kid on the TV that called me a dickhead again.”

“Noobmaster.” Thor growled out as he spun round. Miek threw a piece of pizza towards the TV in disgust, giving a little click.

“Yeah, Noobmaster69. Called me a dickhead.”

Thor stomped over to Korg, took his headphones and spoke loudly into the mic.

“Noobmaster? Yeah, it’s Thor again. You know, the God of Thunder? Listen, buddy. If you don’t log off this game immediately, I am gonna fly over to your house, come down to that basement you’re hiding in, rip off your arms and shove them up your butt! Oh, that’s right. Yes, go cry to your father, you little weasel!”

Katie and Rocket exchanged a look as Thor returned Korg’s head set, before she glanced up at Banner who was watching, a look of disbelief on his face and Katie couldn’t help but echo his feelings. Seeing their friend, their once mighty Avenger partner, in such a state made her beyond sad.

“So you guys want a drink? What are you drinking? We have beer, tequila, all sorts of things.” Thor asked, using Stormbreaker to open a bottle of beer. Bruce walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Buddy, you all right?”

“​​​​​​Yes, I’m fine! Why, don’t I look all right?” Thor frowned.

“You look like melted ice cream.” Rocket crossed his arms, but despite his joke Katie could tell he was concerned.

Thor simply laughed and looked at them all. “So, what’s up?

“We need your help” Katie spoke gently “There might be a chance we could fix everything.”

“What, like the cable?” Thor burped. “Cause that’s been driving me bananas for weeks.”

“Like Thanos.” Bruce spoke and Katie saw Thor’s smile slowly disappear. He put a shaky hand on Bruce’s shoulder and pointed at him.

“Don’t you say that name.”

Behind Thor, Korg stood up, taking off his headphones. “Um, yeah. We don’t actually say that name in here.”

“Please take your hand off me” Bruce’s tone was quiet as he brushed away Thor’s grip on his shoulder. “Now, I know that… guy might scare you…”

“Why would, why would I be scared of that guy?” Thor scoffed, turning away. “I’m the one who killed that guy, remember? Anyone else here killed that guy? Nope. Didn’t think so. Korg, why don’t you, tell everybody who chopped Thanos’ big head off.”

“Umm… Stormbreaker?” Korg offered.

“No, who was swinging Stormbreaker?” Thor shot back.

“Thor.” Katie started gently. “I get it, we all get it. You’re in a rough spot right now-”

“I’ve been there myself.” Bruce picked up from her “You wanna know who helped me out of it?”

“I don’t know…Natasha?” Thor snorted and Katie rolled her eyes.

“It was you. You helped me”.

Thor walked back over to Bruce and pointed out of the window with the hand holding his beer. “Why don’t you ask the Asgardians down there, how much my help was worth?” he dropped onto the chair “The ones that are left, anyway.”

“We think we can bring them back.” Katie looked at him.

“Little Stark, please stop. Stop, okay?” Thor pleaded, opening a packet of M&Ms. “I know you think I’m down here wallowing in my own self-pity, waiting to be rescued and saved. But I’m fine, okay? We’re fine, aren’t we?”

He looked at Korg and Miek eating pizza and playing once more on the Playstation.

“Nah, all good here, mate!” Korg nodded.

Katie looked back at Thor as he stared up at her. “So, whatever it is that you’re offering, we’re not into it, don’t care, couldn’t care less. Goodbye.”

“We need you Thunder God.” Katie swallowed as she shook her head sadly. ”Please.”

Thor shook his head and ignored her.

“There’s beer on the ship.” Rocket broke the silence, crossing his arms.

Thor paused, and without looking up he spoke again, this time his words softer. “What kind?”

**** Chapter 52

 **Original Posting**

[sombreboy]

Mused obsession (4)

Written by @sombreboy​​​ as Jungkook & @chimoona​​​​​ as Jimin Banner by @carly-bean-blog​​​​​

[ masterlist ]

⇢Explicit (18+) ⇢Pairing: Jungkook & Jimin ⇢Genre: yandere, smut, mxm ⇢Word count: 9k ⇢Ch.warnings: profanity, jealous jk, tattooing, light descriptions of blood/pain, exhibitionist jk oh boy, graphic desc. of piercing jk's cock (I'm no piercer so don't take this literally it's fiction, infections don't exist in this world pls be sanitary.), more intense sexual tension because why not, jk is a total sadomasochist and this you need to remember forever for every damn chapter. xo

Industry famous Jeon Jungkook of GJK photography takes an interest in a model and up-and-coming fashion designer, Park Jimin. After an opportunity to study the man behind his trusty lens, he thinks he may have just found his new muse.

The next morning Jungkook’s alarm went off early, and he groaned out curses. For once, he didn’t want to wake up. The quality of sleep he’d gotten was a rarity in his life, all thanks to the man laying next to him. Jungkook turns the alarm off before clinging to Jimin, pressing soft kisses on the crook of his neck, wishing he could stay in bed forever.

It isn’t the alarm that rouses Jimin but the motion of Jungkook behind him. Gentle kisses tickle his neck and strong arms hold him close—a kind comforting touch he hasn’t felt since his ex. He turns to face the man, pressing his parted mouth to his, still groggy with sleep. “Good morning,” he coos, brushing his plump lips down Jungkook’s flushed neck before resting in the indent of his collar.  He slept well enough, but the unfamiliar setting caused him to wake a couple times throughout the night. Even then, Jungkook’s warmth and protective hold coaxed him back to sleep. “What day is it?” He wonders out loud, not ready to sit up and check for himself. The mixture of liquor from the night before doesn’t help his focus in the slightest, feeling slightly hungover and lethargic. “Have you seen my phone?” He dreads the many messages he probably has from his manager, or even Tae.

Jungkook hums, ignoring every single question being thrown at him. He just wants to hold Jimin forever. But eventually, he reaches over to the nightstand where he’s placed the elder’s phone and hands it over, then cuddles up close to get a look at the screen as well. He’s extremely curious after all—does anybody miss Jimin? How easy would it possibly be to just...keep him?

No, that’s too early. Things take time.

“I don’t know, but there’s breakfast ready whenever you’re hungry...” Jungkook murmurs with a raspy morning voice.

“Mm, sounds good…” Just as Jimin suspected, ten messages and four phone calls. Most are from his manager, a couple from Taehyung apologizing, and one from… interesting. Jimin flicks off the covers from his side of the bed and wriggles out of Jungkook’s arms, regrettably.  “Breakfast sounds great,” he picks his robe from the floor and wraps it around himself in a hurry, “I just need to make a few phone calls.” He leans onto the bed and gives the younger a quick peck on the cheek. “I’ll make it quick, promise.”

Before Jungkook has a chance to reply, Jimin steps out onto the attached balcony and closes the door behind him. First thing’s first, he definitely needs to let his manager know he’s not dead in a ditch. However, more importantly, he’s dying to know why his ex messaged him out of the blue after so many months of silence. He’s a vague man. The only thing his text said was “Proud.”

Jungkook’s lip twitches as he watches the blonde close the balcony door in a hurry. What is so important? He would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a bit curious...and frustrated. He doesn’t like secrets, even if Jimin doesn’t owe him anything... technically . Jungkook wants to know, and he will, eventually. The photographer lays low, gets out of bed to puts on a pair of sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt. He grabs his own phone and sits back down, scrolling through social media... Jimin’s show was a hit, trending, both photos and praise, on the news. Of course, there were the photos of Jungkook, smiling as he was enjoying the show—which also drew a whole lot more attention towards the blonde, as if making Jeon Jungkook smile was an achievement. Jungkook scoffs, but nonetheless happy about the many pictures available of Jimin, saving several to his phone as he continuously glances over at the balcony.

Who is he calling… Kook cranes his neck to try and decipher Jimin’s facial expressions, but can’t quite make it out...

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. No, Jeon didn’t kidnap me and hide me in his basement. No—GOD, what kind of man do you think I am? Yeah…yeah…okay, thanks for covering. It went really well? Trending? Goood…okay, yeah, thanks for calling. Sorry to worry you…bye.” Jimin checks in with his manager. They’re annoying as hell but they mean well. He shoots Tae a quick text, telling him to sleep it off.  Then Jimin flicks through his contact list until his thumb hovers over the one name he didn’t think he’d ever call again—Seung-Ho.  The man started as a lifestyle influencer, wearing Lululemon shorts at Machu Picchu or casually eating the latest novelty hipster food with a bright smile on his face. Now he’s the brand ambassador and face of Jimin’s biggest competitor.

“Jimin, baby…,” he coos over the receiver. “I’m so proud…”

Inside, Jungkook grows restless, bouncing his leg with clasped hands as he stares at Jimin through the glass door. Who is he talking to? Why is it taking so damn long? Why did he hover over the screen for several seconds before pressing the call button? He didn’t want to wait any longer—who is more important than Jungkook? Normally, the younger is extremely patient in every other aspect of his life, but when it comes to Jimin giving somebody else his attention, it runs out quick. He gets up to saunter over to the balcony door, carefully sliding it open to eavesdrop.

“Seung-ie—“ Jimin catches himself, “Seung-Ho.” He rolls his face in his palm. It’s too early in the morning to have this conversation with the ghost of his past. Regardless, he’s very curious to know why he reached out after all this time. “Why did you text me? To say you’re proud?” He can’t help but smile a little when the man on the other line praises his clothing collection. Apparently Seung was in the audience the whole time, absolutely loved Jimin’s little speech, and even took note of how well the model looked on stage under all the glowing lights. He laughs, recalling the last time he took Jimin out on a date—how he spilled slushie all over his pure white button up and they had to make an emergency stop at Neiman Marcus for a spare.

“I miss you, Mochi,” he says lowly from the other side, deep and seductive. “When can I see you again?”

Seung-ie?… Seung-Ho. Why does the name sound familiar?  Jungkook rolls his tongue against the fleshy inside of his cheek, listening for merely a minute before he decides it’s enough. He announces his presence by snaking his arms around Jimin’s waist, placing his chin in the crook of the elders neck, placing soft kisses against it.

Mine…

Kook leans in to whisper into Jimin’s ear, “I’m hungry…”

It distracts Jimin’s train of thought to have Jungkook kissing his sensitive neck. One ounce of attention from the man and he is absolute putty.

“Who was that?” Jimin hears Seung-Ho chime from the other end.

“I’ve got to go, but thank you for coming to the show,” Jimin replies, wrapping up the call. He presses the end button and turns in Jungkook’s arms to face him. He looks annoyed to say the least, but he doesn’t blame him, he would be too. “Just a stupid ex,” Jimin whispers before melding his lips to the other man’s. “Let’s eat…”

 Jungkook grasps and guides Jimin’s chin between his long, tattooed fingers to face him. “Why’d they call you?” He’s no longer subtle with his concern, the mere mention of an ex causes his eyebrows to furrow. “They bothering you?” He continues, his fingers tightening ever slightly around the blondes chin, his face so close that their lips graze together with every word spoken. His other hand remains wrapped around Jimin’s waist, keeping their bodies tightly pressed together, as if the elder would disappear if he didn’t hold him.

Jimin rolls his eyes and tries to shake off the goosebumps still prickling from Seung-Ho’s compliments. “He’s probably bored,” he covers, still not entirely sure why the man reached out. He said he was proud, but why should Jimin care what he thinks? As Jungkook’s hold tightens, Jimin feels the need to be honest, as if the truth is being squeezed from him. “He liked the show. Wants to see me again, but...,” he squeezes Jungkook back, “I’m far too busy.”

“Too bad for him.” Jungkook mutters, a small smile tugging at his lips as he feels Jimin’s reassuring squeeze. He feels his stomach rumble, looping his fingers between Jimin’s as he pulls the elder with him inside towards the dining hall.  If the blonde isn’t already constantly reminded by the wealth the young photographer possesses, this would be one of many reminders. A large table filled with all kinds of breakfast delicacies greet them, way too much for one, two or even three people. This might as well be a buffet for a party. “I didn’t know what you’d like, so...I got everything.” Kook shrugs, as if this isn’t his everyday life anyway, zeroing his eyes in on the fridge filled with his favorite beverage.

Jimin never has to leave. Every little thing that could possibly accommodate his needs is right here in the photographer’s house. “There’s so much to choose from...” Jimin’s hunger increases the longer he looks. He doesn’t even feed himself most of what’s available, but he almost feels like he’s on vacation, so he grabs a pastry and quickly devours it before the guilt sinks in. The flakey, sugary taste is sweeter than sweet as it hits his lips. “Here…” he lifts the danish to Jungkook’s mouth and coaxes him to take a bite without a second thought. The instinctual domestic nature is less and less jarring the longer he stays.

Jungkook’s eyes widen a tad bit in surprise at the sudden gesture, but quickly grasps Jimin’s wrist to guide the pastry to his mouth, chomping off a large piece. His eyes flutter shut with a quiet hum in content—his adoration for sweets so strong that one would wonder how the hell he has the physique he does. “You’re a man of taste,” he chuckles, bringing the straw of his drink to his lips to wash the pastry down. He could definitely get used to having Jimin here, seeing the elders' reactions to his everyday life, so adorable. Having somebody here is a nice change. Sharing this with him is all Jungkook starts to crave. “Try the fruit. Get me some grapes.”

The grapes grabbed Jimin’s attention right away—so ripe and juicy. He lifts a vine from the table and plucks off a single grape, popping it into his mouth and biting down with a satisfying crunch. A light moan tickles his throat, unable to contain how much he enjoys every bit of this.  “Want one?” He plucks another grape and grasps it between his teeth, bringing it up to Jungkook’s lips to feed him directly.

With a smile, Jungkook leans in to bite the exposed half of the grape and within the same movement, grasps Jimin’s waist to push their hips together. “Want you ,” he shamelessly admits, digging his long fingers into the blonde’s sides, tipping his head forward to press a soft kiss on his plush lips. Jimin is already acting more and more in the manners that Jungkook wants; so sweet and almost domestic, like they’re actually together. He really likes it...and in his own mind, they might as well be. He has no eyes for anybody else since he saw the blonde step into his photo session.

Jimin’s hold tightens, digging to be grounded in reality while his mind floats somewhere else. He doesn’t know what’s come over him, feeling so clingy and lustful since the second Jungkook called him “baby.” “N-need you,” he says quietly. His eyes fall away from the other man as his cheeks flush with embarrassment. He isn’t sure what exactly he needs, but every little facet of his time with the photographer is so overwhelmingly euphoric he can’t imagine being apart.

One of Jungkook’s hands moves up the elders body until he reaches his neck, carefully sliding down the robe on one side to expose his small shoulder. “Yeah?” He nuzzles his nose into Jimin’s neck. Fuck, he smells so nice... A deep inhale follows, unable to resist the urge to brush his lips against Jimin’s soft skin. This man is the human embodiment of a drug.

“Yeah,” Jimin replies, weak in the knees. He pushes his robe down further for Jungkook to feel and breathe in any part he desires. He does the same to the other man, tugging the robe loose until it hangs slack around his back. He kisses his way up his built arm, paying close attention to the tattoos that decorate his skin.  “Didn’t expect you to have so many,” Jimin notes with lips pressed lightly to a dark tattoo engraved in his shoulder. “I’ve always wanted more. Love the way they look.”

“Want a tattoo?” Jungkook muses. The mere thought clashes in his mind. Jimin’s skin is precious , not just any tattoo would be good enough. He sighs at the sensation of the elders lips and knows exactly who he’d choose to fulfill his wishes, if he wanted. There’s nobody he’d ever trust more than his personal tattoo artist, Kim Namjoon. He’d lie if he said he wasn’t anticipating the sounds the blonde would make as soon as the needles graze his tender skin... “What would you get?”

Jimin lifts the hem of his robe, exposing his naked thigh. “It would need to be special. Maybe something small. I’m thinking here...” he motions to the taut muscle, pure and unmarked. Jimin surveys Jungkook’s expression as he rubs a thumb over the flesh, “Wouldn’t it look pretty here, Jeon?” Clearly the younger appreciates body markings. It’s only fair his input is taken into consideration. He is, after all, the one who unknowingly influenced Jimin to finally do it.

Jungkook crouches down in front of him, allowing his slender, inked fingers to smooth down Jimin’s thigh until he reaches the part that’s meant for the tattoo. He takes a short moment to just admire the firm, untouched skin before gazing up at the blonde. “It would look gorgeous...I have the perfect person for the job. Maybe after today’s fitting?” He tilts his head in question, wondering if the model would truly be up for it. If Jimin mentions he wants something, Jungkook can’t get it out of his mind until he has it. Was it a small comment in the heat of the moment?

For Jimin, it’s so easy to just say yes when Jungkook asks a question. His wide bambi eyes sparkle with intrigue, and who is Jimin to strip that joy from him?

“Yes,” he answers, a little hesitant. He was just playing around to get a rise out of the younger man, but the idea of getting permanently marked while Jungkook watches is even more exhilarating. “But after the fitting. I need to be in top shape if I’m going to get down on my knees and measure you properly.”

Jungkook’s expression lights up—a yes is definitely what he wanted to hear. He knows he’ll have to set the plan in motion, because Jimin wants it.

“That I agree with,” Jungkook coyly replies with a crooked eyebrow. The playful spark in his eyes doesn’t go unnoticed as he leans in to kiss the blonde’s thigh. He plants a soft peck before standing up to cup Jimin’s cheeks. “Have you eaten enough? We should get ready.”

Jimin quickly devours another danish before his body tells him not to, living just a little longer in the fantasy world Jungkook created. It really is too good here, and with the other man adoring every facet of his being, it’s very hard to leave. Leaving Jungkook to finish his breakfast, Jimin finds his way to the nearest shower and instantly gravitates to the shampoo Jungkook lathered him with the night before. It’s a comforting smell that is now regrettably faint on his skin from a deep sleep. He hurries to coat himself in it, head to toe, blissing in the cloud of humidified scent blooming under the warm cascade of heat. After a short while, he steps out, feeling like a new man, ready to give Jungkook the suit of his dreams and repay him for everything.

Jungkook doesn’t bother with a shower, but simply gets dressed and waits. He runs his hand through his messy locks. The ruffled look adds to his childish yet not so innocent charm, juxtaposed against his black dress shirt that fits his firm physique, paired with black jeans. It’s a casual look, yet his adorning jewelry showcases that he is anything but ordinary, with many shiny rings and an expensive necklace that rests at the base of his neck.  While waiting for Jimin, Jungkook lays down on his couch and contacts Namjoon to make sure he’s available and ready after the fitting. He’s giddy to surprise Jimin with the news... later .

All the while, Jimin wrapped back into his robe and padded down to Jungkook’s studio in hopes of retrieving his clothes, however, he found them neatly folded on a decorative console table just outside. The studio door was shut and locked tight, which he found slightly odd for a mere photography studio. Regardless, he was sure Jungkook had his reasons. He changed into his clothes from the night before and finessed his hair into a presentable style with a bit of product he found laying around. It’s not best practice in the world of fashion to be seen in public wearing the same thing twice, but he made an exception for the day.

Eventually, Jungkook grew bored and decided to go find the blonde roaming around his house, only to find all ready in yesterday's outfit. Cute.

“Ready to go? Car’s waiting outside for us.” He reaches out with grabby hands for Jimin, waiting for him to get the hint; to run to him. The younger wishes for the domestic feeling to never go away, and he was curious how the blonde would act among other people.

Luckily for Jungkook, Jimin got the hint right away and walked towards him quickly, still taking the time to admire his fit as he approached. Today is going to be difficult— how can he build upon perfection? It’s hard not to implode by how cute Jungkook is, looking the way he does, so effortless and cool; truly a muse fit for the occasion. “Ready,” Jimin nods, smiling widely and snuggling into Jungkook’s arms to enjoy a few last moments in this fantasyland before transitioning back to Park Jimin, the supermodel and fashion aficionado.

Jungkook cups the blonde’s cheek and guides his face to look up at him—a last close up look before their one-on-one dynamic would be broken, momentarily. His butterfly truly has a duality to him that is admirable, however the way the elder can easily crumble for him is incredible.

“Okay, let’s go.” He flashes his signature toothy smile and turns to guide them to the waiting car. His arm tightly grips Jimin’s waist until he has to let go to hold the door open for him.

~

Preparations were made on Jimin’s part during the ride. It seems his assistant is used to last-minute bookings since he started his Be Your Light collection. Last-minute tailorings for industry events and spontaneous all-nighters when inspiration struck. For this occasion, he requested that all the materials be ready for him to use alone—No assistants. The attention would be purely put on Jungkook. Just like the photographer’s preferred work style, Jimin wanted no distractions.

It was go-time the second they arrived—Jimin’s assistant guided the two men into a secluded wing of his studio where a myriad of patterns, leathers and fabrics were laid out.

“This is perfect, thank you,” Jimin nods his approval and flashes a sparkling smile, then begins to pull together his measuring tools. “Jeon, please, take a look around and tell me if anything catches your eye.”

Jungkook begins to stroll around the different materials to work with, fingers smoothing over the fabrics tentatively.  His eyes keep looking back and forth between the black silk and leather. He always tended to like darker, edgier themes, but the soft and shiny material is so comfortable to touch. Jungkook grasps it in his hand and holds it up for Jimin to see with a lopsided and challenging smirk on his lips.

“Could you make me something with this?”

“There’s a lot I can do with that.”

Jimin strolls up to feel the smooth silk beneath his fingertips. Leather would have been a fine choice for its stability and durability, but he likes a challenge. “Black silk,” he notes, plucking the swatch from Jungkook’s hands to inspect it further, “it can be very complimentary to your skin tone.” He rubs his thumb over the rise and fall of the fabric’s exterior—a faint textured brocade, so unique and fitting for the man—dark, yet subdued. “If I tailor it just right, it can hold your shape or flow loose, if you choose.” His designer mind flicks on and he plots the form internally. “What kind of event do you plan to attend in a silk suit, Jeon?”

“I don’t know yet,” Jungkook shrugs, a smile mixed between sheepish and coy replacing his challenging smirk. His eyes follow Jimin’s delicate fingers as they smoothe over the fabrics, already wishing they were on him instead. Growing impatient, he jumps a bit in his position. “I want the silk, make it fitted…” He muses for a moment. “And a low front?”

“A low front, huh?” Jimin glides a hand down the front of Jungkook’s shirt and tugs a little to reveal his defined collarbones. “A very wise choice,” he smirks, releasing the shirt with a snap, “take this off, I’ll need to get close to your body for the tightest fit.” He takes a couple steps back to give Jungkook space, itching to rid the shirt and everything else. However, this is a big opportunity to make something neoteric and special. The process will be the greatest test of his patience.

“Everything?” Jungkook coyly replies as he pulls his shirt over his head, shamelessly exposing his upper body to Jimin. He kind of likes this side of Jimin. No, scrap that–he really likes it. The photographer is rarely ever told what to do, and the elders' confidence and passion for his work is just adding to the younger's growing infatuation.

Jimin bites his lip at the question. “Eager, aren’t we?” His fingers fall to Jungkook’s waist, gliding across his exposed hips and down to his belt buckle. “No, Jeon, just the shirt for now.” He gives the buckle a light tap and then steps behind the photographer, releasing a soft sigh at the smooth expanse of flesh he’s blessed to dress any way he likes. “We’ll start with the top and work our way down. Now stay nice and relaxed, I want to make sure the measurements are precise.”

Jungkook’s coy pout matches the mischief in his eyes as he glances over his shoulder at the blonde. “Yes, Mr. Park.” He turns his head back to look straight forward, letting his arms dangle loosely on his sides. “Take your time with me.” Jungkook really dragged out the way he said the elders last name, as if they weren’t already past the point of formalities.

Jimin takes his time to touch and measure Jungkook’s torso until he has every inch of muscle definition saved to memory. The younger’s enthusiasm encourages him to work with full concentration as he daydreams about the low neckline and how he’ll form it. However, he’s easily snapped from his thoughts whenever he is referred to as “Mr. Park,” like he’s never been called the name before. When it rolls off of Jungkook’s tongue, it’s no longer a name given at birth but a name given to tease. He drapes the measuring tape around the back of his neck and pauses, taking one last second to admire all of Jungkook’s tattoos, fully exposed just for him. What a predicament he’s gotten himself into. He doesn’t want to rush the process, but once the pants come off, he may need to pick up the pace.

“Now the pants, Jeon,” Jimin instructs with the firmest tone he can muster, “take them off for me.”

Jungkook cocks a playful eyebrow at the elder male, letting his hands work his belt to slowly unbuckle it. “You’re so cute when you’re bossy.” He unzips and peels his pants down, letting them fall and pool by his feet before stepping out of them, standing in nothing but his boxers. It’s new, being the one to follow orders. But, the way Jimin tries so hard to remain professional is the best part. So the photographer plays along, curious as to how long the blonde can hold his mask before it crumbles.

Jimin continues to act like he doesn’t want to take advantage of Jungkook’s vulnerable state, which is even harder than it looks.

“I’m always cute,” he responds just a little too late and winks at the younger man. He doesn’t know what he’s saying at this point. His brain switches to autopilot once Jungkook’s thick thighs become visible. All he can think to do is take a deep breath, bend to his knees and measure.  Measure, measure. He jots down his findings on a small notepad to keep his hands busy. The process is almost complete—just one more measurement and Jungkook can get dressed. Jimin places his palms on Jungkook’s inner thigh to hold the measuring tape in place for the inseam.  “Hold still,” he asks quietly, feeling small and meek under the younger man’s gaze, “I’m almost done.” His hand soothes over the expanse of his exposed flesh, lingering a little longer than professionally advised.

Jungkook firmly places his hands on his hips as he gazes down at the blonde from above. His potent stare along with the confidence practically oozing off of him is sure to make just about anybody nervous. However, it is Jimin that he wants to bring to his knees, and conveniently enough, he already is. Before Jimin could properly measure his inner thigh, Jungkook playfully reaches his hand down to brush the blonde locks away from Jimin’s face, then runs his long fingers through it, giving a light tug before withdrawing.

“Done?”

Jimin shudders from the tug at his roots, causing his muscles to tense from the pleasure and proximity of the man above. He can’t resist the effect Jungkook’s beautiful hands have on him, especially when they’re carded through his soft hair, caressing him any way they please. “Almost done,” he says in a low tone, aching to deflect attention from the growing tent in his pants. “But if you keep distracting me, we’ll be here all day.” He glides his hand higher up the younger man’s inner thigh until it touches the hemline of his briefs. “Would you like that, Jeon?”

“Is that a question or a proposition?” Jungkook’s light smirk doesn’t go unnoticed. His hand doesn’t leave the blonde’s curls as he twirls the light ends between his fingers. God, did he love to tease the model, who’s eyes seem to dilate with lust as they gaze up at him with innocence. But Jungkook knows by now that he is far from the angel he initially presented himself as.

Jimin replies with a smirk of his own, dragging his small fingertips down the younger’s inner thigh to take the last measurement. He purposefully brushes the back of his hand against the bulge in Jungkook’s briefs and teases him through the fabric for just a second, then withdraws completely as if nothing happened. “I’ll pass my notes to my assistant so she can begin the preliminary steps—shouldn’t take long.” He stands to his feet and steps so close to Jungkook that their bodies nearly touch. “You did great, Jeon. You can get dressed now.”

Jungkook scrunches his nose in a small, toothy smile. The blonde really tried to play him at his own game. Well, if that’s what he wants... He nods lightly before turning around to bend over and pick his clothes up, slowly putting the fabrics on one by one without a word. Maybe Jimin expected a different reaction, but Jungkook wanted the blonde pining rather than simply giving him what he wanted.  As he is fully dressed, he turns back to face Jimin and reaches out to caress his cheek with the back of his hand. “I'm thrilled to see what you come up with… Now, are we done for today?”

“That’s a wrap,” Jimin nods, internally cursing himself for encouraging Jungkook to dress so quickly. Regardless, it wouldn’t hurt to show some affection now that the measurements are recorded.  He melts into Jungkook’s caress and curls his arm around the small of his waist to guide him to the door. He peeks up at the taller man beneath his blonde fringe, feeling more relaxed now that he doesn’t have to focus on drafting the suit.

“So, about this tattoo...”

Jungkook’s face lights up at the mention. “Yes! Do you wanna go now?” He is a tad bit over excited about the fact, as he’s made sure that Namjoon was ready to clear his schedule the very second he made the call.  Kook wraps his arm around Jimin’s shoulder to pull him close as they head towards the waiting car. He may have asked, but his mind is already made up—Jimin is getting that tattoo.

“I’m a little nervous,” Jimin confesses, grasping the car door handle and hesitantly tugging it open, “It’s been a while.” He slides into his seat and gets comfortable next to Jungkook. He’s a little out of his element, but he trusts the man, surprisingly enough. He can’t pinpoint why, but he finds solace in his touch—a sense of calm that makes him feel like he could tackle anything. “I don’t even know what I’m going to get,” he laughs, “Shit, Jeon, what did you talk me into?”

“Do you trust me?” Jungkook’s eyes fall on Jimin as he says so, repeating the same words he once said back at their first photoshoot. Without a response, he gives a vague wave of his hand and the chauffeur begins to drive. He places his hand on Jimin’s thigh and let’s it rest there, giving it a light, reassuring squeeze.

It’s not just Jungkook’s words or his touch that pulls Jimin closer—it’s the undivided attention, and his tranquil gaze. Every now and then, Jimin swears he can see the man’s soul in his dark irises. They’re so receptive and kind, but piercing and cool, all at once.

“I trust you,” he speaks above a whisper. Just as he did at their first photo shoot, Jimin places his full and complete trust in Jungkook’s hands. He’s a proven visionary—not only a renowned artist but a man with true vision. If he wants this permanent marking to have the greatest meaning, he’ll leave the final decision up to Jeon Jungkook. That moment in the glass room changed Jimin—seeing his faults fall between the cracks of those mirrored shards, scattered across the floor. He owes this to him. Everything that’s come from that moment has only made Jimin stronger—a better version of himself. “I want you to choose what I get.”

‘‘Really?’‘ Jungkook’s doe eyes widen before they squint in a smile. Small wrinkles appear in the corners of his eyes, adorning his skin. He feels butterflies erupting in his chest at the way Jimin willfully gives his trust. He seems entirely head over heels, and that’s exactly what he wants. Jungkook cranes his neck to close the last bit of distance between their lips in a sweet kiss. He pulls back just enough to stare at how Jimin gazes back in awe, only to lean forward and place another kiss on his plush lips...and another, and another. It’s like a drug. Lips, intoxicating, the way they envelope his with loving care.

Jimin presses back firmly to Jungkook and unbuckles his seatbelt to get closer. There’s far too much pent-up energy and nerves in his body to resist. He moves his hand to the back of the younger man’s neck and guides the kiss. He pulls him deeper, gliding his velvety tongue along Jungkooks, crawling into his lap and straddling him face-to-face.  “Really,” he breathes against his hot lips, “Want you to mark me, sir.”

Jungkook can tell that Jimin’s words have double meaning, which causes him to smile.  The plush of his bottom lip grazes the blonde’s. “It’s a promise, butterfly,” he whispers smoothly as his hands settle in a firm grip on Jimin’s hip bones, squeezing lightly to feel the soft flesh push out between his fingers. Jimin always seemed so fragile when he was like this, yet the innocence in his eyes is nowhere to be seen when he’s slowly becoming corrupted by Jungkook’s various temptations.

Jimin soaks in the feeling of Jungkook’s hands on his hips and allows them to hold him close for the duration of the ride. He wants them to hold him everywhere at once, but unfortunately, Jeon Jungkook isn’t Vishnu with four arms. However, at least in Jimin’s mind, he is god-like. Is it odd for him to think so highly of a man he’s known for less than a week? Life moves quickly in the world of fashion—working partnerships are just another part of it. In the words of Heidi Klum, “one day you’re in, and the next, you’re out.” At this point, he’ll do anything to stay in.

The model cards his fingers through Jungkook’s soft hair as he slides off his lap, giving him a small peck on the lips before settling back into his seat. The car pulls up to the curb of the shop; Jimin instantly feels his tingly heartbeat in the tips of fingers as they wrap around the door handle.  A moment of pause, then... “Lets get it,” he breathes out in a wisp of a laugh.

Jungkook smiles as he leans over Jimin to place his long fingers on top of the blonde’s, unlocking the door with him to push it open. As they head inside, the bell to the shop chimes.

“Jungkookie!” They’re met with a dimpled smile greeting them across the room, pen in-hand, working on a sketch. The man stands up to approach the two and gives Jungkook a hug before doing the same to Jimin.

He surely isn’t shy.  

“Is this Jimin? I’m Namjoon.” He takes a step back to observe the blonde, shooting a quick glance at Jungkook that basically says ‘nice.’

Jimin straightens his posture to give the best impression as it seems this man is not only the one about to stick needles in his flesh, but also a good friend of Jungkook’s. As he’s quickly gathered, it’s a rare occasion to meet anyone Jungkook would call a friend. Jimin can only imagine what he makes of his relationship with the photographer. Namjoon’s dark-lined eyes hold firm on Jimin’s, almost softening to put him at ease. “Park Jimin,” the model smiles, “it’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Namjoon smiles back, his prominent dimples on display. He heads towards his desk to pick up the sketch he was working on, beckoning for the others to come closer, “Check this out.”

Jungkook steps beside Namjoon to take a look. “Perfect,” He coos, doe eyes observing the beautiful flower that Joon had sketched on the paper.

“Great,” Namjoon smiles wider, showing Jimin the sketch. It's a delicate drawing of red petals from the sage flower—the meaning behind it being ‘Forever mine,’ which is sketched in a short note at the foot of the page for reference. Joon already knew this is what Jungkook wanted for this one—always something floral, and always different meanings behind them. This one is the most meaningful one he’s ever done...and not just one more flower to be added to Jungkook’s collection on his arms.

Even on the paper, the red petals seem to burn off the page. It’s as if they’re begging to escape the confines of 2D and become immortalised forever, sunk permanently into Jimin’s flesh. He’s lost for words as he scans every detail even though he’s already set on having it on him for life.

“It really is perfect,” he smiles at the cheery dimpled man. He turns to Jungkook and is pleased to see he’s equally enthralled with the finished product. “You’ve chosen well, Jeon.” He drops his hand down onto his own hip until it lands high on his thigh. “Are we still thinking here, or…somewhere else?”

Jungkook’s eyes rake down Jimin’s body in thought for a long moment until they land on his upper thigh. It seems like the perfect spot, and watching the process will be the most enticing part of it all.

“Right here is perfect,” He agrees, placing his hand on top of Jimin’s to apply light pressure onto the firm muscle.

“Splendid,” Namjoon nods before gesturing towards the large, comfortable chair in the room. “Please remove your pants and have a seat.”

Joon heads over to his chair and rolls it over to his desk to gather necessities while waiting for the blonde to get ready.

Mind over matter—Jimin slides his pants down quickly like he would at any runway show. In a situation like this, modesty flies right out the window. In a matter of minutes he’ll be poked raw while Jungkook watches, and the thought alone makes him hastily take his seat in front of the artist, eager to begin.

“Jungkook?” Jimin asks, looking up at the tall man while he towers over him protectively, “You’ll stay here, right? You won’t leave?” His hand itches to hold his as he hears Namjoon whir the machine a couple times to prep the needles.

“I’ll be here every second,” Jungkook promises with a small nod, reaching to brush away Jimin’s fringe from his forehead before grabbing a chair to take a seat next to him, “I chose the piece after all.”

Namjoon smiles to himself at the sweet exchange, noting just how well Jungkook has Jimin wrapped around his finger. It almost reminds him of how he himself used to feel the same way, once upon a time. “Alright, take deep breaths and don’t move. Let me know if you need to take a break,” Namjoon says as he scoots closer in his chair to place the stencil on Jimin’s upper thigh. He observes the placement before giving Jungkook a questioning look, rather than giving the decision to Jimin. Once Kook confirms with an approving nod, Joon gets to work, whirring the machine as he draws the first line. Both men glance at Jimin between strokes, attentive to see his reaction.

The stinging sensation of pulsing needles on Jimin’s soft flesh is not foreign, yet they feel sharper this time around. Deeper. Joon does not have a light-handed approach, likely as a stylistic choice for bold line work, but it makes the fine hairs at the back of Jimin’s neck stand on end. The artist’s attention to detail reminds him of the perfectionist in himself. He acted similarly when he sketched his clothing designs for the BYL collection, so he respects the process. He grits his teeth and bares through the pain. He can feel Jungkook’s gaze land heavy on his thigh as the needles stitch into his skin and embed vibrant ink. The younger man’s investment in this spontaneous decision is enchanting. The design he chose is brilliant and thoughtful. Jimin wonders if he’s devoted this much of his undivided attention to anyone else besides himself. Surely a man of his prestige has better things to do than this with him .

Nonetheless, Jimin pushes his insecurity aside and places his hand on Jungkook’s thigh for assurance.

Jungkook observes every stroke of Namjoon’s wrist with deep focus to make sure there is not a single mistake done to Jimin’s precious skin. He’s more invested in this moment than he has been with anybody else. Luckily, he knows he can trust Namjoon to do a job that is nothing but absolutely perfect. Watching Jimin’s skin slowly gain lines and colors with a design he chose...it’s a feeling unmatched by any other. ... Well , possibly matched by the way Jimin is obviously struggling to keep a straight face. The light twitches in his plush lips are so endearing. Jungkook grabs Jimin’s small hand and gently strokes his knuckles with his thumb, holding it like that the entire time.

Then, after what feels like forever, the buzzing of the machine finally comes to an end. Namjoon places the needle gun back on the desk before cleaning Jimin’s thigh off, inching forward to inspect the finished result. “Alright, we’re all done. Take a look by the mirror over there if you want a proper view.” Joon directs his words towards Jimin, but his eyes flicker to Jungkook’s.

Standing on his feet is a raw task, but Jimin does it with a brave face, placing weight on the leg until it feels comfortable enough to walk on. The mirror doesn’t do the piece justice—up-close it is perfectly placed on his toned thigh and brilliantly shaded. He ghosts his fingers over the fresh ink, hovering just above, slightly bewildered that it’s a part of him forever.  He turns to Namjoon and nods his approval, then looks to Jungkook, trying to assess his reaction. From what he could tell, then man is just as pleased, maybe even more. It is his design concept, after all, and he should be proud. Jimin rests his hand at his side but can still feel Jungkook’s hand—thumb working in soothing circles. It makes him wonder if perhaps he’s relaxed enough to take the pain as well.

“While we’re here,” Jimin says confidently, feeling the dopamine pulse in his rosy numb flesh, “are you getting one too?”

“I am, actually.” Jungkook's small smirk tugs at his lips as he remains still, eyes still admiring the work on Jimin's thigh. Forever would he be marked with the piece that he had chosen. And now he’s about to get one of his own.  Kook guides Jimin to have the seat next to him as he gets himself ready, extending his arm to expose the ink-free piece of his skin on his lower arm. Meanwhile, Joon prepared another set of needles. He rolls up to the youngest to place his stencil, raising his eyebrows in a silent question of 'Good?'   With an approving nod from Jungkook, the familiar buzzing sound of the machine echoes once more. Joon marks Jungkook with a similar design as the one on Jimin's thigh; however, slightly different. While Jimin's is a work of red petals, Jungkook's is the flower itself, with petals falling off of it. As with every other piece Namjoon had done on the photographer in the past, he marks Jungkook's flower tattoo with a barely visible number. It’s a sly way of tracking each time the man has brought someone in to tattoo themselves for him. Why? Who knows. It is a mystery only known to the man himself.

Jimin notes the small number as Namjoon etches it onto Jungkook, not even sure if it is a number he’s seeing or just another part of the blooming bud. The photographer’s silken skin beads with fresh droplets of blood, obstructing his view of the design. He doesn’t even wince when the hairpin needles pierce his skin over and over, like he’s done it so many times it’s as casual as a monthly haircut.  Jungkook is a seasoned professional in Jimin’s eyes. He admires the painless way he endures Namjoon’s heavy-handed pricking in what he assumes to be a sensitive part of the body to mark. He can’t pretend he isn’t shocked the photographer had the foresight to plan matching tattoos, and was too bold to assume Jimin would want it. But Jeon Jungkook's bold decisions are what attracted Jimin to him in the first place.

“You’re doing well,” Jimin assures, soothing his hand over the wide expanse of Jungkook’s back. “You’re doing really well...”

Just as the tattoo begins to form into a coherent piece of art, Jimin’s pocket vibrates. He pulls his phone free and stares down at the notifications, quickly hiding it at his side once he realizes who messaged him.

Jungkook smiles at the sweet words coming from the elder, but it fades just as quickly when he notices the slight tilt of Jimin's phone screen to keep it just out of his vision. Kook can't help the curiosity that gradually morphs to swirling annoyance in his gut. He just can't help it—he hates secrets when they’re kept from him. Could it be the same person Jimin was on the phone with earlier? The younger isn't oblivious, and he really wishes this wouldn't cause any trouble. But before he can comment on the split second, the phone is shoved back into Jimin's pocket, and Namjoon chimes that he's finished.

“Alright, we're done here,” Namjoon clicks his tongue and wipes Jungkook's arm clean, observing the masterpiece with his squinted eyes. He rolls his chair out and stretches his back until his spine pops. “Good, Jungkookie?”

“Perfect.” Jungkook approves as he gets up off his chair, looking down at the new piece of art on his skin. A mark just for Jimin. He displays it for the blonde, a crooked eyebrow following with his toothy grin, “Now we match.”

Jimin tries to muffle the sound of incoming text messages as they continue to vibrate in his pocket. If it isn’t Seung-Ho, it’s surely his manager on behalf of Seung-Ho. The man is persistent when he wants Jimin’s attention—but why does it have to be now? Jimin doesn’t have the nerve to check his phone, especially not when Jungkook proudly displays his fresh ink.

“It’s—” Jimin leans closer, grasping the man’s bicep to steady his body. He squints to take in every little detail, down to the faint number etched at the center of the design—but is it a number? It very well could be, but what does it mean? Jungkook doesn’t seem bothered by it in the slightest, so Jimin pushes his curiosity aside and examines the rest of the tattoo. “Not to be biased, but I think It’s the most beautiful flower.” The delicate way the red petals seem to fall down from Jungkook’s arm and onto Jimin’s thigh is wholly picturesque. Jimin would be lying if he said it didn’t excite him, knowing the two of them will share this for the rest of their lives. If anything, let it serve as a reminder of their working partnership and the bond they shared shooting Jimin’s first solo collection. Give it time and perhaps the tattoos will increase in value. It’s not even a day old and it’s already Jimin’s new favorite piece of art. He lightly taps his tender thigh and savors the sting, flicking his eyes between both tattoos until they are melded in his mind as one. “It’s been a long day, Jeon,” he winces, tapping his tender flesh a little too roughly. “Ready to head out?”

Jungkook shakes his head with a mischievous, toothy grin growing on his face. “Not yet, I have one more thing.” He speaks as he stares at Namjoon, who suddenly seems to shrink where he stands despite being the tallest of them all.

“Are you sure? It'll hurt.” Joon asked with his eyebrows raised high, feeling the itch in his fingers. He really wants to do it, but he also wants to make sure this was truly what the younger desires. He does hope for a ‘yes’ though. There is nothing else he wants right now than to feel and see Jungkook, even if it's in a professional setting.

“Yes, I've planned this for a while now.” Jungkook's hands travel to the hem of his pants, tugging at the waistline as his grin grows wolfish, “And I want it right now.”

“O-okay...” Namjoon's voice strains, his heart practically bursting within his rib cage with excitement. He loves tattooing, but if there is anything he loves more, it’s body piercing. There is just something about the adrenaline he feels rushing down his spine when he feels the needles easily penetrate through flesh, to be adorned by a piece of jewelry. Joon would be lying if he said it didn't make his face heat up a bit.

“Alright, take a seat,” Namjoon clears his throat, sitting back down on his rolling chair and patting the client seat.

Jungkook doesn't hesitate to pull his pants down along with his underwear, shameless and confident in his body as he sits down, half laying in the seat, eyes fixed on Jimin's. He notes how the blonde's eyes immediately find exactly what Kook expects.

“Don't stare so intensely, I'll get excited,” Kook teases Jimin, then flickers his gaze down to meet Namjoon's, who is also seemingly swallowing tightly to keep his professional mask on.

This is too much fun.

“A-are you—” Jimin’s voice weakens as Namjoon grasps Jungkook’s flaccid length and lines up a small barbell at the tip, measuring for size. He very clearly is, no doubt about it. If he was confident going into the tattoo, Jungkook is beyond confident going into this. Jimin wants to ask permission to watch, but can tell right away that it’s Jungkook’s full intention that he do so. He really does like to put on a good show, and, well, Jimin is captivated.

Namjoon finds the perfect piece of jewellery and sets it aside to ready the needle. It’s much larger than Jimin would have imagined—it looks hallowed throughout and incredibly sharp. It’s difficult to understand why in this moment, but Jimin feels his skin heat with arousal at the mere thought of seeing Jungkook’s tip gleam with a pretty stud through it. He takes a seat beside him, aching to be as close as possible. He crosses his legs, already feeling his cock stiffen at the sight. Jungkook seems to be affected as well, gradually growing thicker, unabashedly, right in front of his audience of two.

Jimin nips his plushy bottom lip and focuses his curious eyes on Namjoon’s hand as he grasps the hardening cock, ready to pierce. “Be still,” Jimin warns, nearly salivating at the sight. “I want it to be perfect.”

“Namjoon knows what he's doing, it'll be nothing but perfect,” Jungkook sighs out his words when Joon's warm fingers wrap around his length, already half hard from having two sets of eyes immersed in him, and him only. “Right, Joonie?”

“Right…”' Namjoon whispers through his teeth, his eyebrows tightly knit together in focus. It’s not easy to keep himself collected when Jungkook's cock is literally within his grasp. It’s heavy, and the all too familiar feeling of it makes his gut stir. “Just take a deep breath and don't move,” he warns as he brings the needle closer. His other hand keeps a firm grip around Kook's length, twitching once Joon's fingers tighten around it.

“Just do it before I get too hard…” Jungkook groans quietly. In all honesty, the photographer doesn’t care if he’s rock solid while getting pierced, he’s too much of a glutton for pain to mind it. Maybe he'd even prefer it that way. To say this is arousing would be an understatement.

Namjoon doesn't need to say anything else, and finally presses the needle through the flesh. For other professionals, this might've been too slow, but for the two of them, this was just the perfect torture. The needle is so sharp it practically melts through Jungkook's cock, and it has Namjoon foaming at the mouth when he hears Jungkook's audible moan echo in the studio.

“Fuck, hyung!” Jungkook curses through gritted teeth. His hand instinctively reaches out to grab Namjoon by his hair, tugging harshly. “All the way through, keep going.”

Namjoon's lower lip is tightly clamped between his teeth as he holds back the vibrating groan in his chest, finishing what he started as he finally pushes the needle through entirely; the bloody sharp tip of the needle sticking out on the other side. It’s gorgeous.

Jimin’s body feels hot and electric as the pain of his tattoo dissipates and is replaced with pure exhilaration. He watches every movement with wide blown-out pupils. His mouth is impossibly parched, he can’t will himself to swallow out of fear he might blink and miss a millisecond.

Namjoon loops the barbell through the hallowed tip of the needle and threads it through as the needle glides free of Jungkook’s stiffening length. It’s set aside, freeing a small bead of blood to trail down his shaft.

Jimin tears a fresh sheet of paper towel from a neighboring roll and dabs the wound gently. The younger man’s reddened tip swells under his touch and only spurs Jimin on to dab with excess—more than what’s needed, but selfish and satisfying for his own pleasure. He nips his bottom lip roughly until he’s sure he might draw blood of his own, then looks up at Jungkook with nothing but urgent need, silently begging to leave straight away. Jimins needy look doesn't go unnoticed by the younger, giving the blonde a reassuring wink.

“You did well hyung.” Jungkook leans in to press a light kiss on Namjoons forehead before he stands up, observing the little addition on his length. The pain is delicious, stinging and amplifying the throbbing pulse rushing from his heart to his cock.

Yeah, he needs to put it to use...there was no way around it.

Jungkook pulls his underwear and pants on, nonchalantly clasping the button on his jeans before he beckons Jimin to follow him like a puppy. “We will be back when I want some additions to my butterfly.” Jungkook grins at Joon, knowing the man knows exactly what he means, and that he'd have to be prepared. Soon.

The bell chimes loudly as Jungkook holds the door open for Jimin, giving Namjoon one last silent look before he walks out.

© sombreboy 2020. Do not repost, edit or translate.

[min-youngis]

Pray Tell - k.ji

me, after making my own ugly ass banner, bc it is my own: :DDD

~ Pairing : Kim Jongin x Reader

~ Genre : Fluff, Comfort, Humour, SuggestiVe 

~ Summary : Tired and can't sleep? Show up at your boyfriend's house at night with no warning to receive love, a massage, and then some of this and that.

Established Relationship

~ Word Count : 2,606

~ Warnings : oh boy where to start uhh emotional constipation, shirtlessness, swearing, very suggestive like more than anything i've ever written before if u know me irl pls never talk to me about this we shall simply pretend it does not exist, descriptions of his hands sorry i've been practicing exo simp core for the last few weeks, massage description, innuendos but they're funny i swear, i have a banner draft saved in which the title is holy water, there is nothing explicit but this is scary bc i am: babie, tq that is all

~ A/N : me? getting obsessed with exo and beginning to write for them in the middle of a) my academic calendar and b) the exo drought itself? it's more likely than you think.

the massaging techniques described here are not to be replicated. please do not treat this fic as a horny wikihow article. it is simply a horny fic that is all. 

i'd love to hear feedback, spread the love!

masterlist (now with a new category!) in my description.

~~~

The sound of the cab driving away behind you, unceremoniously deposited as you are at the entrance of this imposing building, leaves a hollowness behind, accentuated by the darkness you’re surrounded by.

You hear a couple walk past, catch them giving you a look even as you continue to dawdle outside the apartment. The security guards probably think you’re another stalker, here to camp out for the night, waiting to catch a glimpse of one of the inhabitants.

For the fifth time in as many minutes, you wonder if this is the best course of action. What if he’s busy? What if he’s been practicing the whole day and he’s tired? What if he’s, shockingly enough given the earliness of the hour, asleep?

But traitorously, the weight of your phone in the pocket of your jeans makes itself known with another vibration, and you let yourself recollect all the facts that refute your tiredness- and stress- induced spiral. He’s texting you right now, for one. You had felt like a proper fraud, reading his messages that were coming in rapidly from your notification panel as he went on about what a good day he had, how great it was that it was a Friday and they were getting a weekend off, right as you were in a car on the way over to his place.

You know that if there were a day where you crave some comfort and some warmth, and your body decides to drag itself of its own accord halfway across the city the moment you get home from work, you couldn’t have chosen a better time for it to be happening than now.

But, still.

You’re not sure how to go about this whole selfish-intentioned surprise appearance to his house. Every time you’ve been here so far, you’ve both either arrived together, or he’s been waiting in the lobby to pick you up from the entrance. You doubt the guards are feeling any kinder towards you the longer you spend hovering outside, and a claim of ‘I'm his girlfriend.’ will probably be met with scepticism and a complaint at the nearest police station about a stalker. If they asked Jongin to file a restraining order, he'd do it, too. For shits and giggles.

With a sigh, ignoring the unread messages from him, you walk across to the opposite side of the road, absentmindedly kicking at the wall as you call his number. He’s on his phone, you know that, but it still surprises you a bit when he picks up on the second ring, cheery greeting instant, leaving you with no time to prepare.

You’re pretty sure you would have come up empty, anyway.

“Hey!”

You’re not sure where to start, how to even begin to tell him that you’re outside his house at 10 PM, and you wish there was a script for such situations.

Hi, I’m tired and stressed and the moment I got home, I came here, but now I’m not sure why, so maybe I should just go back and save us both the bother, even though I feel a little bit better already, just after hearing your voice.

Without preamble, throwing caution to the wind, you ask, “Could you pick me up?”

There's shuffling on his end, the sound of blankets rustling, and you think he’s getting out of bed when he replies immediately, “Yeah, sure. Where are you? Are you fine?”

You hear the clang of keys and you desperately wish there was some way to sound less confusing than you do, as you hurriedly tell him to not bother with getting his car.

“Uh, okay. Why don’t you tell me where you are, and I’ll see if it’s a sneakily walkable distance?”

“I’m outside your apartment.”

There’s silence for a second, static crackling, as you semi-consciously pick at your thumb nail, waiting for him to laugh it off as a joke, praying that he laughs it off as a joke, hoping to hear the low rumble of his chuckle so you can pretend the same and just book a cab back home. But then he hums slowly, thoughtfully, before replying, “Okay, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to make it without a vehicle, but I’ll try.”

You feel the side of your lip quirk up by itself, just a minuscule amount, beyond your control, before you huff in half-hearted amusement, listening as he opens his door. You can imagine him entering the lift, padding around in the corridor in his ridiculously expensive house slippers, slipping into the lobby.

He doesn’t hang up, and the elevator sounds and the polite neighbour greetings give you a pretty good estimate of his progress. You see his blurry shadow behind the frosted glass of the building entrance before you hear him talk to the guards.

From the handset you still have pressed to your ear, you hear his tinny voice ask, “What are you doing all the way over there?”

“Coming,” you mumble shortly, hanging up and crossing the road.

Despite the fact that they’ve got explicit proof that you are, in fact, a legitimate visitor, the guards’ gazes hold lingering distrust, and it’s with an internal sigh of relief that you slip inside the building and out of their eyesight. Or maybe the relief has more to do with present company, who’s to say?

To his credit, Jongin doesn’t say a word. He tries catching your evasive eye, fidgets a bit after he presses the elevator button, but doesn’t ask you what on Earth you’re doing here. The lift is empty but for the two of you, and the moment the doors close, he shuffles a bit closer. Not so much that he invades your personal space but enough to let you know that he’s there, and that he’d appreciate an explanation, if you were up to giving one.

Slowly, not looking at him, you extend your stiff arm to the side, just enough so your pinkie grazes the side of his surprised hand. His muted giggle as you wind your finger around his makes you feel just that little bit better. He relaxes as he gets the cue and engulfs your hand in his large one, warm and comforting and solid, before gently tugging you out once the elevator doors open.

His house always smells the same. Hints of his Ferrari Black perfume, traces of his chocolate flavoured protein powder and just that little tinge of lilac air freshener.

You stop walking somewhere in the middle of the hall, your interlocked hands forcing him to halt as well in his path to the bedroom. He turns around, eyebrow quizzically cocked as he looks at you. For the first time, you look up from your insofar steady gaze at the smooth marble floor and at his face.

Your mouth opens once. And then it shuts. And then it opens again. Suddenly, you’ve remembered all the work you have to do and all the stress induced by that work and paradoxically enough, how that’s the reason you’re here.

It’s like he can tell that you’re working yourself up in your head, and by the time he turns around fully to face you, now very much in your personal space, he’s lost all trace of confusion.

Softly, hand still holding yours firm and keeping you grounded, he asks, “Food, sleep or talk?”

It’s easier to focus on options like these, simpler than trying to organise the multiple to-do lists you’ve got living rent free in your brain, and without much thought, you mumble, “Can we just...chill?”

You know what he’s going to interpret it as before a single word escapes his mouth, and you’re already halfway through an eye roll by the time he begins to reply, eyebrows wiggling ridiculously and stage smoulder set in place that just looks exaggerated in as subdued a setting as this.

“Is that what we're calling it these days?”

You’re the one leading him to the room now, as he easily matches your pace with a single long stride. He sees that you’re a little calmer, pleased that his silly antics have served to at least put you in a headspace that’s almost accepting of peace, and like a fuckboy faux-stretching to put his arm around his dates' shoulder, he fakes a yawn, detaching your interlocked hands and long limbs extending until he’s smoothly gotten you under his left arm, loosely pressed to his side, right as you both enter the room.

It’s contact that you did not know you craved, and you gladly welcome it, shuffling closer and fully prepared to just live there, cozy against his firm chest and his t-shirt that’s become uber-soft from being washed too many times.

It’s short-lived, sadly enough. After indulging you for a few seconds, he pulls away slowly, lowly chuckling as you cling on for a millisecond longer, before nudging you towards the bed.

“Go. I’ll be there in a second.”

Wordlessly, you obey, letting your body flop onto the mattress so you can stare at the ceiling as Jongin rummages around in the bathroom. The dimmed yellow night lights calm you down, and it’s comparatively easier to mute your brain now, body sinking into the comforter that smells like his laundry detergent.

You’ve just about begin to relax, about to say that you could maybe muster up the mental capacity for maybe a low-action movie or TV show, when you hear him call out from the adjoining room.

“T-shirt off, please.”

You don’t realise that your eyes have slipped shut until they jolt open in surprise. You clamber up to a sitting position with an energy you didn’t know you possessed, swiftly turning your head towards the owner of the voice in bemused surprise, just in time to catch the trailing end of a roguish wink before his poked out head pops back out of sight to join the rest of his body in the other room.

Before you can even question the abrupt request, Jongin re-enters. He’s got a bowl in his hand, white and porcelain and whose contents smell like those massage oils he swears by, that he carefully carries in his journey toward you, lightly observing as he places the container on the side table, “You’re still wearing your t-shirt.”

“You're still wearing your t-shirt.”

You aren’t sure where the knee-jerk, childish response comes from, but you can’t complain as you watch him divest himself of the offending article of clothing, impish grin popping into view once he’s done, black fabric bundled and nonchalantly tossed onto the armchair in the corner of the room.

“Your turn.”

You tear your eyes away from his torso at his teasing voice with more than a little difficulty. There’s a shift in the air and challenge in his gaze, and maybe this was his plan all along. Smart man.

Focus trained on him, chin up in a confidence you would not have been capable of ten minutes ago, you mimic his motions, and just for the heck of it, neatly fold the garment in your hands before setting it on the far corner of the bed.

It gives you something to do with your hands, and they’re definitely itching.

You look back up at his patient face when you’re done, refusing to get distracted by everything else that he definitely wants you to get distracted by, distantly pleased when you see his eyes flick up to your face. If there’s a massage on the agenda, you’re going to get it, goddammit.

“What are you doing all the way over there?”

His lips quirk up further at your recycled statement, repeated from what feels like ages ago. He picks up the bowl he had sat down while saying, “Lie on the bed, face down.”

You resist the urge to snort at his smug grin, both of you sharing a second of amused eye contact at the continuous innuendos, before you do as instructed, crawling up the bed and flipping around until your chin is resting on your forearms cushioned by the pillows right in front of the headrest. Somehow, you manage to feel simultaneously half-asleep and hyper-aware.

The bed dips to your right, his movements graceful, dancer limbs elegant, even as he’s climbing onto a bouncy mattress while balancing a bowl of oil, and he settles on his knees near the small of your back.

There’s silence for a moment, before his phone lands a few feet from your face, bouncing once and landing face down, and now there are slow, deep beats filling the room, The Weeknd crooning smoothly and making you slip deeper. Shit, he’s good.

Your hum of approval is accompanied by you sinking in further to the mattress, and bedding rustling next to you as Jongin moves closer, the fabric of his pyjama pants now brushing gently against the side of your waist.

“Is this...the treatment you give all your customers?” you ask, breath slightly hitching as you feel a large palm settle on the small of your back, gently tracing upward to fiddle for a second with the hook in your bra before undoing it.

“Definitely not. They get flowers and bathrobes and choice of fragrance. And I get paid.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to retort, teasingly poking at the flesh on the side of your waist, making you weakly giggle at the ticklish sensation, before placing his permanently warm, and now oily, hands at the base of your spine, gently sliding up, applying just the slightest hint of pressure.

You'd be embarrassed about the sigh you let out just then, but you’re too far gone to care. You let yourself relax under his tenderly firm ministrations, feeling his palms glide up and down your back as he spreads the oil around, rubbing it in. With the slow music in the background and the dim lighting in the room, there isn’t much to keep you from slipping into a zoned-out, dreamy haze.

An indeterminate amount of time passes like this before you sleepily begin to mumble, head ducking to burrow into the soft pillows as Jongin moves to the sides of your neck, long fingers more effective than any massager. “If you weren’t a dancer, you could have become a very successful masseur, I think.”

You feel his chuckle in your bones, as he momentarily bends at the waist, gentle kiss pressed against the skin right in between your shoulder blades, a direct contrast to the warmth his body emanates against your pampered back, brief contact swiftly snatched away as he straightens up and continues pressing his thumb against the bottom of your neck.

Preening at the affection, you continue, “Magic in those fingers, that’s what you have.”

Said fingers move down until they’re at the base of your spine, large palms spread out in opposite directions and spanning your back, ends curled possessively around the curve of your hips.

“They’re good at other things, too,” he says, tone low and no longer as teasing as it was, hands slipping dangerously low and index finger dipping into the waistband of your pants.

Suddenly, you’re wide awake.

Head slowly coming up, you rest your chin once more on folded arms, settling as much as you can with a finger running absent circles on the base of your hips.

“Pray tell.”

~

[theladyofdeath]

Alone in the Ashes {epilogue}

A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfction, characters belong to Sarah J Maas. Modern au. Revolves around Nesta x Cassian, Feyre x Rhysand, and Elain x Azriel. Other characters appear throughout. Based on multiple prompts sent in by anons tbr below.

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, drugs, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click >  Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: Short & Sweet

A/N: Thank you for reading & being so sweet with all the love. xx

also, shoutout to @the-regal-warrior​ for helping me come up with a baby name...i love u.

Even Mila had yet to see her baby brother.

Having a five year old in a hospital wasn’t ideal, so they had Mila stay with Feyre and Rhysand until they brought him home.

As they rode in the car toward their townhouse, the baby slept soundly in the backseat. Elain was completely exhausted, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t wait to introduce him to everyone.

And everyone was waiting, their cards lining the road in front of the townhouse.

Azriel yawned as he pulled into the driveway. “They couldn’t come...I don’t know...next week sometime?”

“I just pushed a baby out of my body,” Elain said, undoing her seatbelt. “If I can do an hour of introducing our son to our family, so can you.”

Azriel chuckled. “Yeah, yeah. Fair enough.” 

Elain got out of the car and headed up the drive as Azriel pulled the carseat out of the middle of the back. He was still sleeping.

It was hard being three days old. 

The minute Elain opened the door, she was grinning.

They all stood there. Mor, Amren, Feyre, Cassian, Nesta, and Rhysand, Mila in his arms, beneath a banner that read Welcome baby boy!

Elain cursed her hormones as her eyes lined with tears. 

Azriel came up behind her, yawning, once again.

Elain didn’t know why he was yawning so much.

He didn’t push a baby out of his vagina recently. 

She blamed such thoughts on the hormones. 

Everyone was grinning wildly, but they remained quiet, careful not to startle the newborn.

All but Mila, anyway.

“BROTHER!” she screamed, and Azriel froze in the doorway.

“Shhhh,” Rhysand laughed. “You have to be quiet, remember?”

“Oh,” Mila began, eyes wide, voice a whisper. “Yeah. Sorry. Brother.” 

They all laughed quietly as Azriel came into the entryway and set the car seat onto the wooden floorboards.

There he was, a head full of dark hair and Azriel’s tan complexion. He was still fast asleep, wearing a onesie that read “Mommy’s little studmuffin”. There was a muffin on the butt of the pants. When Elain purchased it, she had cried for an hour.

Damn hormones. 

“Meet Alexander Isaac Asghar.”

The women swooned.

Even Cassian swooned.

Rhysand hid his face behind Mila to keep from tearing up.

They would call him Zander, and his middle name came from Elain’s father, from the sacrifice he had made to ensure that Zander had a father in his life. And his last name was Azriel’s, of course, the same last name that Mila now had.

A name Elain herself would have, soon, too. Azriel had proposed months ago, but they promised to keep the wedding planning at bay until after the baby came.

Now that he was there, though, Elain was itching to get started. White dress. Lilies. An outdoor wedding with white fold out chairs filled with people. Her sisters by her side. Azriel waiting for her at the end of the aisle.

It would happen.

Soon.

Feyre and Nesta were holding Elain in her arms, congratulating her. Cassian was clapping Azriel on the shoulder. Rhysand was still holding Mila, telling her how important it was for her to keep her voice down and be gentle. 

“Just look, don’t touch, just look, don’t touch….” Feyre whispered, as she bent down over the carseat, where baby Alexander was sleeping.

Azriel gave Rhysand a curious glance.

“She has serious baby fever,” Rhysand explained.

Feyre’s eyes snapped to her husband’s. “Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?”

Rhysand rolled his eyes as he let Mila onto the ground, at last.

She crawled to the side of the car seat and peeked over the edge. Azriel’s arm went around Elain as they watched the sight. Even Azriel teared up as he watched - and he did not have new mommy hormones. 

Mila smiled as she took Alexander’s tiny little hand. “Hi, little brother.”

When Elain looked up at Azriel, he was already watching her. He kissed her, softly, before wrapping both of his arms around her.

They were both thinking the same thing.

This was their family.

Their little, unorganized, messy, completely perfect family.

~~~~~

Nesta was living with Cassian. She had moved in with him nearly a month before Alexander had been born, so that Azriel and Elain could transform her room into a nursery. She didn’t mind. She completely understood. 

Besides, she liked living with Cassian. 

For many, many different reasons. They had been together for a while, and as obnoxious and cocky as he was, she found he was the ideal roommate. Clean, good in the kitchen, better in the bedroom...he checked off everything on her list. 

“Alexander’s a cute little thing, isn’t he?” Cassian called from the bathroom.

Nesta had just laid back on their bed as she agreed. “He looks so much like Azriel.”

Cassian chuckled. “Yeah, he does.”

“Do you ever want kids?” Nesta asked.

“With you?” Cassian asked. “I like making babies.”

Nesta laughed, quietly. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation, Cass.”

Cassian didn’t reply until a moment later, when he came around the corner of the bedroom and leaned against the door frame. He was ready for bed, hair still damp from his shower, shorts hanging low on his hips.

“Someday,” he answered, at last. “Do you?”

“I used to not,” she answered, honestly, propping herself up on her elbow to look at him. “Now, I don’t know. Maybe.”

Cassian’s eyebrows rose as he meandered toward the bed. “With me?”

“Maybe,” she said, eyes bright. “If you’re lucky.”

“Ah,” he laughed, crawling onto the bed and pushing her back. He hovered over her as he said, “I’ve been lucky so far. I’m not too worried.”

Nesta shook her head and pushed his hair back, out of his face. She reached up to kiss him, softly. “I want to be married first though. For a few years. Enjoy that little bit of freedom in the married life before babies come.”

Cassian pulled back, eyebrows furrowed. “Wait - we’re not married?”

Nesta rolled her eyes and pushed against his chest.

“No, I’m serious,” Cassian said, but he was laughing as she rolled her eyes, again. “I’m pretty sure I’ve asked. I haven’t proposed?”

“If you have, it wasn’t very memorable,” she said, head cocked to the side.

“Hmmmm,” Cassian began, pretending to think long and hard as he propped himself on his elbows, one elbow resting on each side of her head. “No, no, I’m pretty sure I’ve asked. You must be mistaken.”

“You’re so full of shit,” she muttered.

He laughed softly, his body shaking against hers. “Fine. Maybe I’ll have to ask again, then.” 

Nesta’s eyes softened as she asked, “Is that so?”

Cassian nodded, and pressed his mouth against hers.

“When will that be?” Nesta whispered.

Didn’t he know by now that she hated surprises?

Cassian’s eyes were bright as he leaned back. “Oh, when you’re least expecting it.”

Nesta’s mouth formed a tight line.

Oh, he definitely knew.

“Cruel bastard,” she mumbled, but Cassian only laughed. 

Nesta couldn’t stay mad, though. Especially not as his hands wandered up her shirt, as his mouth hungrily found the side of her neck.

The entire time they made love, though, all Nesta could think about was one thing.

Cassian Nazari wanted to marry her.

Maybe that was a surprise she would happily, and patiently, wait for.

But, if he didn’t ask her soon enough, she would fucking as him herself. 

~~~~~

Rhysand awoke to an empty bed the morning after they had welcomed baby Zander home from the hospital.

He leaned up on his side and looked at the alarm clock on his nightstand. 

It was just after 7.

On a Saturday.

“Feyre?” he called, voice raspy.

She didn’t answer.

Sitting up, Rhysand rubbed his eyes. The sun was peeking through the curtains, bright in the early morning light. Just as he was about to pull himself out of bed, Feyre came through the door. She looked absolutely stunning, dressed in one of his hoodies, her long hair messy from sleep. Her hands were shoved into the pocket.

Rhysand fell back against the mattress, smiling softly. “You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” she said, but her eyes were bright. She was wide awake.

She sat on the mattress next to him, on her knees.

And she stared at him, smiling.

“Yes?” Rhysand asked, huffing a laugh as he yawned. 

“Close your eyes,” she whispered.

“Ooh, I like this game,” he muttered, eyes fluttering shut.

“Calm down, cowboy,” she laughed. “Alright. Hold out your hand.” 

He did so, and was met a moment later with cool plastic in the palm of his hand. 

Feyre said nothing.

“Can I open my eyes?” Rhysand asked, laughing quietly.

Feyre didn’t answer, but Rhysand opened his eyes anyway, to find her eyes bright and blurry. He looked down at his hand, at the pregnancy test sitting in his palm. He blinked, his thoughts going blank.

It was positive.

“This is a pregnancy test,” he said, at last, because it was the only thing that came out.

Feyre nodded, slowly, clearly taking in his reaction.

“It’s positive,” he said.

Feyre laughed, nodding, once more.

“Which….you….” He finally looked up from the test, up to his wife, who was grinning from ear to ear, eyes lined with tears. “You’re pregnant.”

“Yeah,” she breathed, “Rhys, I’m pregnant.” 

Rhysand blinked, rapidly. “With...a baby?”

“Typically that’s what women become pregnant with,” she laughed, crawling on top of Rhysand, straddling his lap. She took his face into her hands. “We’re having a baby, Rhys.” 

“We’re having a baby,” he repeated, quietly.

Feyre nodded, brushing his cheeks softly with her thumbs.

“We’re having a baby!” he said, dropping the test and taking Feyre into his arms. He threw her down on the bed and hovered over her. Then stilled. “Fuck, sorry, I should be more careful-”

“I’m pregnant, Rhys, not breakable,” she muttered, pulling him down to meet her lips. She kissed him, passionately, running her hands down his bare back.

Rhysand rested his forehead against hers as he breathed, “Fuck.”

“You’re happy?” she whispered.

Rhysand pulled back, eyes wide. “Of course, I am. We made a little person. There’s….fuck, there’s a baby in there.”

He lifted his hoodie up that covered her body.

Feyre rolled her eyes when he purposely exposed her breasts, too. Gently, Rhysand brushed his fingers up her body - over her abdomen, between her breasts, up to her face to cup her cheek.

“I’m so happy,” he breathed.

Feyre couldn’t contain herself any longer. She began to cry soft, happy tears. “Me too.” 

The last year had been an adventure. They had found peace, had healed, had forgiven themselves, had moved on. They spent time with their family, making new memories and welcoming a new tiny member of their crazy little crew into the world. 

And now, at seven on a Saturday morning, they found out they would be welcoming another little member soon, too. 

“I love you,” Feyre breathed.

Rhysand felt an overwhelming sense of peace and joy as he said, “I love you, too.”

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

The end

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@aelin-rowan-whitehorn​ @bamchickawowow​

@julemmaes​  @itsme-malin

@regular-nessian-trash​  @made-of-stardust-and-wanderlust

@ugh-avila​  @awkward-avocado-s​

@superspiritfestival  @the-dark-swan​  @girlgotattitude448​  @eversincebeirut​

@midnightrose-reader​  @lord-douglas-the-third​  @thestarguidingyouhome​

@empress-ofbloodshed​  @starkovsnesta​ @nickjgoodsell​

Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous

[heartsywritesthethings]

Birthday Knightmare

“What sort of knight sees over an empty castle?”

“You’re not really a knight, dumbass,”

“I don’t see how his parents let him out like that,”

“Grow up, Arthur.”

Knight King Arthur Boyle shot up in his bed, his blanket tangled around his legs from all of his tossing and turning through the night. A feeling of absolute loneliness crashed over him like a suffocating wave. He felt as if he were drowning in it. 

No. He was a knight king…he shouldn’t feel this way. He was brave and honorable and the protector of station 8 and the world!

And yet the sensation remained. A deep hole in his chest that threatened to suck everything in and leave nothing behind. Arthur pulled himself out of bed, absently pulling his hair up in his trademark ponytail. He perched up on his toes and decided now would be a perfect time to pester his annoying roommate. Yeah, that would definitely help him feel better.

“Hey, Devil–” Arthur began. Empty bed. It was like a slap to the face and he felt panic begin to swirl around his chest. 

Was it happening again?

No. No, that couldn’t happen. That stupid devil was probably around here somewhere along with the others. Other people. He would be fine. Sure, a knight could fight battles on his own, but he also needs  his fellow companions for support. His fans, to cheer him on.

Arthur pulled on his slippers, silver ones with bright yellow crowns on the toes, and he went out into the hallway. The vast emptiness felt suffocating. There were no sounds of laughter, chatting, praying, cooking…nothing. He felt sick as a knot formed in his stomach.

Well, guess it was time to make breakfast like he used to. While he had been in charge of his home kingdom, he had gotten accustomed to making his own meals. Well, he was probably the only one who could call them meals. Since his mother had…well, left, there was no one to help him really when it came to cooking. He could vaguely remember watching her cook and the sickly sweet smell the cooked fish that the three of them would have to share. It had been Ogun who had taught him to cook rice properly without the threat of burning down the whole place. Shinra had of course poked fun at him, but Ogun was quick to stop him. 

That was something that he had really appreciated about that guy. He was just as honorable as a knight, defending those in need and standing up for what was right. While such a manly knight as Arthur didn’t really need the aide, it was nice nonetheless.

Thoughts of the academy days did nothing to soothe his boiling panic. If anything, it made him feel more alone here. Arthur reached the kitchen and pulled out the rice from the pantry. He waited for a moment, anticipating Lt. Hinawa to burst through and get onto him for not having a healthy breakfast. Maybe Tamaki would trip in and magically lose her shirt. Or perhaps Vulcan would shuffle in and with a new and improved silver steed for him.

Nothing. 

The sound of rice pitter pattering in an empty pan was almost deafening. He poured in some water and then…waited.

“That kinda sounds like your parents abandoned you,”

“Where are your parents, kid?”

“Your dad didn’t teach you this?”

Tears began to form in Arthur’s eyes, but he quickly wiped them away. Knights don’t cry. They were too manly. Besides what if someone walked in and

You’re alone, Arthur. Again.

Arthur flinched. He hadn’t heard that voice in what seemed like ages. It was his own, of course, but he had thought he had imprisoned such a mind monster. 

You drove them away.

The tears were really coming down now as he just stared at the pot of rice on the stove.

What did he do this time? Was it something he did? 

“I don’t know, man. They just said to go get you then head to the roof.” Shinra’s voice said from the hallway. Without thinking, Arthur bolted from the kitchen towards where he heard the voice. Sure, it could be his mind monster playing cruel tricks on him again, but he needed to know for sure.

“Station 8 has some weird rules and junk.” Ogun’s voice responded. They were both here. 

He wasn’t alone.

He wasn’t alone.

He wasn’t alone.

“Oh, now I see,” Shinra laughed. 

Arthur Boyle burst through the roof hall doors where Shinra and Ogun were standing. Shinra was holding the door open to the roof where the rest of the company was. Tamaki, Iris, Captain Obi, Lt. Hinawa, Vulcan, Maki, Victor, and even the three fire force mascots. They were all standing around a table with a crudely made banner reading “happy birthday Sir King Arthur!!!”. They were all smiling when they saw him.

“Surprise!” The gang said in unison. Well, everyone except for Ogun and Shinra. The two of them immediately rushed to their friend (he’s your friend too Shinra, just admit it).

Arthur fell to his knees, quickly wiping his tears with his sleeves, but they wouldn’t stop. Ogun dropped in front of him, immediately pulling him into one of those bear hugs that were oh so sweet. Shinra was next to him, a steady hand on his back. 

“Did we scare him that bad?” Maki asked, poking her head in to see what was going on.

“You shouldn’t leave him like that!” Shinra barked back at her. “Why didn’t you tell me this was the plan?”

“You can’t keep a secret to save your life, perv.” Tamaki joined in.

“Alright, you two. Stop with the teasing and go get the couch blanketed down. Iris, make sure they keep to Nightmare Protocol 1.” Captain Obi commanded. He pushed through the doors and walked over to where the three boys were. It was obvious that this hit some kind of trauma that the blonde kid had. “Maki and Victor, help Vulcan move the festivities to the main hall. Lt., get him some water,”

“Right!”

It didn’t take long for Arthur to be ushered to the hall in a whirlwind of motion. Ogun and Shinra never left his side though, each having at the very least a hand on him so that he knew that they were still there. Finally, he was resting against Ogun’s side, curled up on the couch with a mountain of blankets and pillows around him like a fortress. Shinra was still piling on more.

“Do you want it to be your turn right now? Is that okay?” Ogun asked, so softly that even Arthur barely heard it. Slowly, he shook his head. “What would help right now?”

Arthur pointed a feeble finger at Shinra.

“His turn,” He said quietly. Ogun chuckled.

“Hey, hero, Sir birthday king has declared that it is your turn today.” Ogun said, this time louder. Shinra immediately froze and turned bright red. He opened his mouth in protest then stopped. Shinra grumbled something about them needing to wait. He left for just a moment and then dragged Vulcan back, holding a present in his hand. Vulcan had a wide grin on his face. A devilish smile that almost rivaled Shinra’s. In fact, Shinra was smiling his tense smile once again.

“Show him,” Shinra grumbled and gestured towards Arthur. Vulcan handed him the present and then cleared his throat.

“Sir king Arthur, I present to you the gift of my new invention! I call them, Giggleflies.” Vulcan announced before bowing deeply. Arthur pulled apart the wrapping paper to see several metal moth-like machines. Each was about as big as his palm and had half a dozen nubby legs. Also in the box was a little remote with several buttons and switches along with a small keypad.

“Press one for…me,” Shinra grumbled, not even looking at him now. The devil shifted awkwardly from side to side. He did. The giggleflies powered up, hovering for a moment around the opened box before darting straight for their target. Instead of running, Shinra stood, his eyes squeezed shut as he braced himself for ticklish impact.

The bugs were fast, several darting under his shirt and clamping onto different ticklish areas. One under each arm, one on his ribs, one flat on his stomach, and another on his hip. One even crawled around to clamp onto his shoulder blades and another onto one of his knees. Two others hovered by his feet, but didn’t do much of anything since he was standing.

“You have to like, sit or something for these to work.” Vulcan said, gesturing for Shinra to move.

“I don’t like this present anymore for him,” Shinra said, but then moved so he could sit. The two leftover giggleflies clamped onto each bare foot.

“Pick a number.” Vulcan said to Arthur now. Arthur looked down at the keypad. Numbers 0-9. He pressed one.

Almost immediately, Shinra began thrashing with laughter. The two under his arms were poking and prodding at one of his most ticklish spots. They were random with some digging and making him howl and squeal, with others lightly scratching with made his giggles kick up and his feet kick out.

Arthur pressed 2. The gigglefly on Shinra’s ribs began to squeeze like ticklish claws, the timing random so every now and again Shinra would squeak and jerk around like a fish. A smile formed on Arthur’s face. This was just about the best gift ever.

He pressed three. For some reason, the first two stopped as this one began. That was fine with Arthur. He thought that Shinra could use a breather anyways. 

A feather like device was swirling devilishly around Shinra’s navel, circling it like a shark circles prey. Shinra twisted, cute giggles filling the air as it got closer and closer.

“Nohohohoho! Waihihihit!” Shinra giggled as the feather then dipped into his belly button. He jerked agin, his giggles jumping up again. The feather tickling stopped and for a moment…nothing happened.Then it felt like someone was giving him the biggest most ticklish raspberry of his life. Shinra curled in on himself and squealed. There was nothing he could do to stop it though, just laugh and laugh and laugh. 

While Arthur was definitely enjoying himself, he could tell that Shinra was starting to get tired.

“Which one does his feet?” Arthur asked, having to raise his voice a little over the laughter.

“Nine.” Vulcan responded. Arthur pressed it. The tickling on Shinra’s stomach stopped and Shinra greedily drank in the sweet air. He was still letting out residual giggles, but at least the kid was breathing.

Then, the tickling began. Smooth feathery things slid in between the poor devil’s toes, making him shriek. Something crawled up and down his arches, something else chewed at his heels.

Shinra was sent into hysterics. He thrashed and there were times when Arthur could see sparks flying through the makeshift metal boot. These things must be pretty fire resistant then. That was definitely a plus. 

When Shinra’s laughter fell silent, Arthur pressed the RETURN button and the giggle flies unclamped and flew back towards their box. Shinra panted on the floor, a pure smile across his face.

Arrthur spent the rest of his birthday cuddled up against Ogun and Shinra (who had crawled up against Arthur in a giggly daze). He tormented the rest of the team, sending these new Giggleflies over any new victim who hadn’t felt their ticklish wrath yet. Even Lt. Hinawa allowed himself to be attacked which was kind of surprising. The day was full of laughter and mirth and soon, the whole team had piled onto the couch and slept after a long day. 

With this team, Arthur would never have to feel that crushing loneliness again.

-GA!babe