#i almost wanna put in More Secrets but also i am freshly off of finals and i'll be adding like 1 extra week to finish the event off

[bonetrousledbones]

the thing you all need to understand about writing ebony is that he's like if a middle aged man in an action movie splashing water on his face and glaring in the mirror was freshly 20 years old and also kind of an anime girl

[thefanficmonster]

Infatuation

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: FLUFF, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: It’s not a secret that Corpse prefers taking care of his hair himself rather than going to a hair salon to get it trimmed and/or tampered. However, he only has so much knowledge of how to properly do it without having to obliterate his budget. Luckily, his girlfriend comes to his rescue.

Requested by Anon. Hi lovely! Thank you so much for the incredibly fluffy request! I’ve been very pumped to write it and now here it finally is - so sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post it but I still hope you come across it and give it a read! Love, Vy ❤

“Um, what are you doing?“

I just walked into Corpse’s apartment to find him barricaded in the bathroom, giving himself a hair appointment. We were supposed to have a chill night in watching movies, but it seems to me like those plans will either have to be delayed or canceled, given the chaotic state both Corpse and his bathroom are in. I mean, how dumb was I to expect he was actually doing his hair justice when he told me he styled it himself? Why didn’t that immediately raise an army of red flags in my head and lead me to question his methods?

I’m honestly quite jealous of Corpse’s hair. It’s always so soft and silky and no matter how much or how little effort he’s put in it, it always looks good: either evidently carefully styled or boyishly messy, it leaves me with heart-eyes regardless. But to see him massacre it like this, it makes me wish I could report it as a crime.

“Ain’t obvious?“ He sounds rather frustrated and I feel at least slightly better due to this fact. He deserves to be as frustrated as I am by the sight of the crap he’s doing. “Sorry, you’re gonna have to wait for me for...a little while. I just need to get this under control and, um, clean the mess. Sorry for ruining your night like this, babe. I-I really wasn’t planning on it to take this long but I forgot to buy one of the products and I thought I could wing it without it but...I very clearly can’t so...“

“Please, stop talking. I don’t need to know what sins you’ve committed - if I do I’ll probably have to give you the silent treatment for like a week or so.“ I call out to him as I quickly skip over to the kitchen to leave the food I bought on my way over before returning to the bathroom and carefully taking a step inside, mindful of where there are hair strands on the tiles. Even severed, his hair is beautiful and I have a ton of respect for it - ok fine, I adore it. Corpse definitely doesn’t appreciate it properly. I walk over to the shower, reaching out to the two shelves inside which are lined with different types of hair products. “Oh fuck...“ I let out the whisper without even realizing it because I’m so stunned by the brands I see on those shelves. “Corpse, um, what the actual fuck?”

He turns to me, eyes wide and terrified because of my menacing tone. “What? What is it?” His gaze searches the spot where mine was just pointed at, looking for anything that could’ve provoked such a reaction from me. Seeing nothing but the hair products, he meets my deadly glare yet again, “What’s wrong?”

Alright, this man-child needs some serious help

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong.“ I say, stomping towards the exit of the bathroom, “You’re gonna stay here and wait for me to come back and don’t you DARE, even touch your hair, let alone bring a pair of scissors or any chemical near it. Copy?“

“Copied and pasted, ma’am.“ He salutes me, knowing better than to ask questions when I enter my commander role. There are quite a few things that set me off into this bossy-ass persona, and hair mistreatment is most definitely one of them. Thing is, Corpse doesn’t know that. Well, he didn’t know that, pretty sure he’s guessed it by now.

Feeling myself soften at his obedience and trust, I give him a smile and a wink over my shoulder as I go to grab my bag and leave the apartment to complete my mission, “Good boy.”

                                                              *  *  *

“Isn’t that a lot better?“ I ask, gently running my fingers through Corpse’s freshly cut, washed and dried hair. I’ve spent a good five minutes just smoothing through it with my fingers. I bet he’s expecting me to say ‘my precious‘ at any moment now, and trust me it’s tempting, but I still don’t, I won’t give him the pleasure of predicting my actions. Wow, we’ve really reached that level of being familiar with one another that I predict that he’s predicting what I’m gonna do next. While I’m a guessing game for him, I tend to think of myself as more of an open book. You just gotta be fluent in the language it’s written in to understand it.

I’ve gone off-topic, my bad.

“Yeah, you’re a lot less scary now.“ He tells me, his hand finding mine in his hair and taking it to his lips to place a kiss on my knuckles.

We’re positioned so that we’re in front of the bathroom mirror with Corpse seated in a chair in front of me and I’m for once in my life towering over him from behind. Our height difference was threatening to be a hinderance in my work on his hair, but we easily figured it out.

I can’t help but laugh, “You know what I meant.“ I curl one of his already curly strands around the pointer finger of the hand that’s still wandering around the soft dark curls while the other remains in his gentle hold, resting on his shoulder.

“And you know what I meant.“ He shifts in his seat to look at me directly, not via the mirror, “Since when do you have a hair infatuation?“

I roll my eyes and retract my hands, defensively folding my arms over my chest, “It’s not an infatuation with hair, dummy. It’s an infatuation with your hair.” I correct him, doing quick work of styling the stray strands that fall over his forehead and eyes. “I really like your hair, you already know that. I can’t handle the thought you’re doing such a shitty job taking care of it.”

He shrugs, furrowing his brows, “Hey, I was buying top-shelf products, cost me a fortune every month, my hair was being treated like royalty.”

I roll my eyes once again, “High price doesn’t always equal high quality, Corpse. Did you ever stop to read what was in those products?” I don’t let him answer, I don’t need him to confirm what I already know. “Even if you did - which you didn’t - you wouldn’t know what each of those ingredients do to your hair. You see, taking care of hair, especially hair like yours, takes patience and knowledge. It’s practically an art form. It’s not like you can just buy any product that has ‘suitable for curly hair’ on it. There’s a lot more to that.”

It’s only after I finish my monologue that I realize he’s looking at me with amazed amusement in his gaze, almost like a parent listening to their kid talk about their wish of becoming an astronaut. “Since when do you know so much about hair? You’ve been using the same shampoo and conditioner since I know you and now you wanna lecture me on hair care?”

I raise an eyebrow at him, exasperated by his stubbornness on the matter, “Who said being consistent with your hair products is a bad thing? You know, frequent changing of brands has the potential of being damaging as much as aiding.” I explain with the most amount of patience I can muster, now taking over the parent role myself, “And as for your previous question, I know so much because my mother is a hairdresser.”

His eyes widen in surprise. I can practically see the gears in his brain turning as he tries to recall if I’ve ever told him this before.

“How come I don’t know that?“ He asks finally after a long moment of silence. “Why haven’t you told me?”

“You ask that as though I just tell you things like that on the regular. Did you also want me to drop the info that my dad’s a mechanic in passing conversation about video games? Cause that’s a little hard to shoehorn in....“ He cuts off my sarcastic rambling with a brief peck to the lips. He’s the only person allowed to shut me up, and only like that. Anything else will earn him either an earful or a silent treatment. 

Just kidding....unless...

“So, does that mean you’re continuing the family business?“ he asks when he pulls away, “I mean, you’re technically my personal hairdresser now.“

I furrow my brows playfully, “Wait, what? Since when?”

“Since I hired you approximately an hour ago.“ He beams up at me, satisfied that I’ve fallen in his trap.

“And what about my payment?“ I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.

He looks to be contemplating for a second before he stands up from the chair, taking my hand in his leading me out of the bathroom, “Well, each appointment you’ll give me a different price, Miss Y/L/N. But, considering today was your first day, I choose to pay you with dinner.“ He sends a wink my way, laughing when he’s met with an unamused expression on my part as I stop in my tracks, causing him to halt his movements as well.

“You really plan on paying me with the dinner I bought?“ I raise an eyebrow at him, freeing my hand from his so I can put both my hands on my hips for the complete 'I’m far from impressed’ look.

“Yeah...? Problem?“ He asks, faking nervousness and guilt as he closes the distance between us, once again returning to the default of towering over me instead of it being the other way around.

“Several actually. First of all...“ I raise my finger in the air accusingly, ready to go off but the arm that wraps around my waist and lifts me off the ground causes my words to die down, evaporating in a frightened squeal, “Corpse no!! Put me down!“

Of course, he ignores me, carrying me into the living room while I don’t know whether to thrash or stay as still as possible. 

Tsk, so much for gratitude

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[yunhostinyuyu]

marks

pairing: bad boy!san x fem reader

genre: college au, suggestive, almost smut

wc: 3.1k

synopsis: Y/N swore herself to never get involved with people like Choi San: the typical fuckboy. She hated him (or she at least made herself believe she did) but thats the exact reason that drew him towards her...

warnings: teasing, making out, mentions of sex, alcohol and drugs

—

„look at who we have here? Y/N doing her dirty laundry, never thought I’d witness that.“

you were hunched on your floor with baskets of freshly washed clothes all around the floor. Whipping your head to the door of your dorm‘s bathroom, and you immediately regret it. The cheeky comment came from no other than Choi San - Resident fuck boy and unfortunately, your roommates best friend. He is the type of guy your parents would warn you from. The type to play with a girl until he’s satisfied and dips right after.

The type of you you would never want to get involved with in any sort of way.

But, since he hangs around your dorm frequently and you share a few classes and lectures, that was not easy. Crashing on the couch you bought with your roommate bought together when you moved in, more often than you’d like. Throwing certain looks at you when you entered the lecture halls or passed by him when he was chatting and smoking with his friends off campus. Never letting you breathe for a single moment, he enjoyed teasing you. Needless to say you hated his guts for many things, and he just added more reasons to your imaginary list with every passing day you saw him around campus.

Meanwhile, you’re lifestyle was the complete opposite of his, being the well mannered and friendly classmate, the typical nice girl everyone thought you were - and what your parents wanted you to be. Of course, you were not always like that, especially around your friends. With them you could act the way you truly are, and that was anything but the front you put on most of the time. But San made you drop any sort of friendliness to curse at him every chance you got. And right now was no different:

“Fuck off Choi. Wooyoung isn’t here, so leave.” you spat while not paying anymore attention to him, instead going back to the task at hand.

Taking a few steps towards you, inspecting the room as if he had seen it for the first time, and paying close attention of you putting clothes out of the washing machine. His eyes paying close attention to your hands that move in fluid motions.

“I know, but he’ll be here any second.” Trailing off, and you decided to not even answer him - he isn’t worth your time or nerves right now, after all he just wanted to get under your skin and rile you up. And the less you talk, the better.

He hums to himself, as he bends down to pick up one black, lacy pair of undergarments, inspecting them closely. His thumbs grazing over the neat material, fingertips holding them up in the air. You don’t realize he took something from the basket to your left until he comments on them.

“Are these new? Must be, huh... your little ass would look sooo cute in them. Are you gonna wear them for me one day, Y/N?” his low voice echoed through the tiled room, and you are fast to react: snatching the pair of panties back, out of his grip and throwing it back into the basket. Scoffing, showing your stride at him without any hesitation. “In your dreams. Now, leave me alone. I’m not gonna repeat myself, Choi.” Your features twist as you grow more and more annoyed with him.

“Oh don’t worry,” he backed up a few steps, but the cocky grin stayed on his lips, “with that attitude I’ll most certainly dream of it.”

You heard the door twist, which could only mean that Wooyoung was finally here to save you from any further suggestive comments. Considering you couldn’t stand anything more that was about to leave his mouth.

Admittedly, San has his reputation for a reason: him being one of the most handsome guys you have ever laid your eyes on. And if he wasn’t such an asshole, there would be a possibility you’d be interested in him. And yes, if the stigma that your parents had embroidered into your brain, that ‘sex is bad’ and to stay ‘pure’ until you’re married. If you could push that out of your mind for good, you would be maybe like San. Maybe, you’d even be with him... but god forbid he would ever find out you thought of him like that, especially when you had one of your moments, late at night. If he would know about your honest thoughts, he would use it to his advantage. He wouldn’t give in until he got his way with you - in his very own way.

“San-ah! Come on, we gotta go!” your roommate screams and prompts the visitor to get going quick.

“Too bad, guess I’ll see you around, Y/N. Maybe one day my dreams will become reality nonetheless.” He turns on his heels and dashes towards his friend. The repeating sound of the lock falling into place made you sigh out loudly, pressing your forehead against the cold material of the washing machine you’re still sitting in front of.

Incidents like these are not new and you have already gotten used to San having zero shame when it came to anything even remotely personal or sexual. He knew how he comes across, which only scores him more and more girls to take home and to make his body count grow rapidly. But until now, it hasn’t worked with you, and he’s trying time and time again to wrap you around his finger. Without success.

And you planned to keep it this way.

–

“I hate you for dragging me here.” you groaned after you kept chewing on the rim of your red cup. The girl on your right ignored your comment and kept scanning the crowd.

It was unbelievable, but yes: you were stuck on a frat party... again. Your cousin Mijung needed to meet a guy she was planning on hooking up with, and you lost a bet, so you had to go with her. In secret, she was still scared to go by herself and you wanted to help her - regardless of that you hated parties like this. Obviously, you hoped that she wouldn’t leave your side too soon, but at the same time it only meant you could get home earlier, which was a win in your books.

„Sure you do. But I don’t care right now, because you owe it to me. You could let loose for once and also get some good di-“

„No, I’m not, and you know I can’t!“ you cut Mijung off and she lifts her hands up in defeat.

She just scoffs while scanning the place for faces she might recognize. “Yes, yes I know. God forbid your parents ever find out your at a party like this, or even have sex. But they have nothing to worry about.” Thinking to yourself that they really do not need to worry, but deep inside you wanted to do all these things that you got restricted from. Forcefully restricted yourself from, and the longer you thought about it, you wanted to go against it. Date and sleep with guys as you please, live a little. But still, something unknown was holding you back from it.

“You know it’s not just that but also-“ you started explaining yourself for the nth time in your life, but now she cut you off and hopped off her barstool. The man she was waiting for finally appeared and she left with him after they exchanged a quick peck as a greeting. Being uncomfortable with the scene, you fumbled with your phone in order not to look awkward or out of place - but that’s exactly what you were. And on top of that, you were alone.

You held your phone tightly in your grip, watching over the intense crowd, people on people and the sight made you nauseous, especially when you locked eyes with someone that was kissing or grinding on each other. You wanted to be able to do those sorts of things, but at the same time it scared you, almost disgusted you. But the sting of alcohol in your cup that you barely drank made everything worse. The situation altogether was just too much for you.

“Now look at that, am I high or is the notorious Y/N at our place?”

You cursed to yourself when you recognized his voice.

“Fuck off, Choi.” was the first and only thing that you could think of while still scrolling mindlessly through your apps to appear busy.

He slides into the seat Mijung left empty just a few minutes ago. “Now, you know that doesn’t affect me. I just wanna talk a bit. I’m not feeling getting hammered tonight if I’m being honest.” He started a conversation and you forced yourself to look at him. He looked too good to be true with his messy hair and black shirt and jeans. But you ignored his visuals in order to give him a strict look.

“And what do you wanna talk about? We never talk. And I’m not gonna be here for much longer anyways.” You explained and San rose and eyebrow at your comment. “Oh? So we’re do you plan on going?”

You didn’t know, since Mijung was left so early, you haven’t given it any thought other than going back home, even if it was too early to leave, but yet dark outside.

“Home. To my dorm. I hate places like this.” You looked away, and he noticed your discomfort. The atmosphere was really awkward between the two of you. As a result you turned slightly away from him.

He sighs, “You know, we can go somewhere quiet.” You adamantly shake your head at his suggestion, “no, I’m not going anywhere with you. You’re aware of your reputation and so am I. I’m not doing that.” you spat disheartinly, assuming it was another one of his attempts to get into your pants. But surprisingly, it wasn’t.

“No, you listen now,” he took hold of your arm and twisted you back to face him. “You’re uncomfortable here, I can see that. I’m taking you to my room. And not to get with you, but because I promised Wooyoung to take him home when he’s completely wasted tonight. I can take you home then alongside him.” he says and his brows furred a little.

Wooyoung was someone you trusted, so if he trusted San to take him home when he’s completely shitfaced, then maybe you could also trust him? All alarms went off in your head telling you he was anything but trustworthy. But as you looked into his eyes, there was something genuine about his offer. But after a few moments of thinking, you gave him the benefit of the doubt: you complied and nodded, “okay, but just because Woo trusts you.” But that was enough for him.

He got up and urged you to come after him, walking up the stairs until the loud noises from the other people steadily died down. After the two of you entered his room, your nervousness und sense of awkwardness disappeared again. Even if it was San, you were used to him, to his presence. And it was better then to be lost and alone downstairs.

“Make yourself feel at home.” He introduces you when he plops down at his bed, while you took a closer look around his personal space. There were plenty of books on his shelf, a flag hung up on the wall, and the desk was messy in books and other stuff he used frequently. To be honest, you imagined his room to be more messy, but it was just a kind of creative chaos.

The silence in his room was thick. He watched your movements closely for a while, but you tried to give him not much attention, even if you felt his stares linger on you. Minutes passed until he started to speak up again:

“Do you mind if I ask you something? I’m kinda curious, y’know.”

You turned around and look into his eyes, that are loosely hidden behind his dark strains of hair over his forehead. Arms pushed behind him on the bed to support his upper body, leaning back. You walk back a little until you sit down in a giant bean bag that was in the center of the small room. While you adjust yourself you look over to him once again, signaling him to continue talking. He sits up a little, leaning forward, elbows resting on his thighs.

“You know, any other girl would beg me to fuck them if they were in your spot. Why are you so determined to do anything but that?”

Taken aback, you knew San was bold, but you didn’t expect him to go there, especially not at this time, when he offered a hide out for you so considerably. Shrugging your shoulders you dip your chip to your chest and try to figure out a way to answer his question.

“I’m, uhm, I’m... it’s just not my thing.” You stutter out, and you are pretty sure you have an aura of uncertainty surrounding you. Of course, San picks up on it:

“Wait, not your thing? What kinda guy did you sleep with that make you think that way about sex? Or girl?” His facial expressions clearly confused, not yet understanding your reasoning.

You stayed silent. Because you couldn’t muster to say the truth: you haven’t. Yes, you were a still a virgin, in college. Nobody knew other than Mijung, not even any of your closest friends. And the fact that San was this close to discovering your secret, or probably already did, made you anxious.

“Mmh, I get it now. You never got laid. Not even once in your life. Am I Right?” He assumed and hit the nail right on the head. You wanted to cuss him out, hit and slap him, but that would only prove him right. The blush that crept on your face was answer enough for him. He stood up from his place on the bed to sit back down next to you on the floor. You couldn’t look at him, because of the pure humiliation he’s putting you through, trying to get swallowed by the fuzzy material of your seat.

“So that’s the reason you’re acting like this most of the time: you have never gotten any action together than with yourself. How am I only just now figuring this out?” He chuckles, having you in a spot were you couldn’t get out as easy as you’d like. Still not opting to speak, gnawing at the inside of your cheek instead, but you don’t need to anyway, because he continues to piece the evidence together.

“Wooyoung once mentioned you had strict parents, you know. Judging by how you act around your friends, I didn’t think you’d care about what they thought, no? You’re well past the age of being ‘daddy’s good girl’. And also by the way you throw shallow insults at me every time we are in the same room, I can tell you that you’re anything but the nice girl your parents want you to be. That’s not the real you. But Y/N, you know it’s your life? You can do whatever you want? If you want to take drugs, take them. If you want to smoke, smoke. If you want to get dicked down, then for fucks sake get some! You’re old enough to make your own decisions.”

Stunned by his rant, you scanned his face for any signs of emotions, but it was really hard to tell what was going on in his head. He sighs and dips his chin to the side, before finding your eyes again, taking your hand into his rough ones. The physical touch had a certain effect on you, and you wanted to be closer to him. Your future self your probably slap yourself in the face for this, but right now you got lost in his dark eyes and deep stare. Feeling vulnerable under the intensity of his gaze, not knowing what to do or say. Taking a quick breath, you uttered under your breath “where is this going, San?” Against all expectations, he smiles.

“Anything that happens here, between you and I, nobody else is gonna know about it. Not a single soul.” His hand slowly start to wander up your arm, touching the skin of your neck and threads his fingers through the strains of hair that rest on your shoulder. You don’t feel anything other than the alarms in the back of your mind slowly subside and be replaced by other thoughts.

“Just tell me no and I’ll stop.” His voice comes out raspy and seductive, and it sends waves of arousal down your core, even if the only physical contact you two had was from his wandering hands. The thought excited you, and he had a point: you could do whatever you wanted, and up until now, the consequences would keep you from giving into him. But there are no worries of the sort holding you back anymore, and if it was only for tonight, so be it. He was to strong, his effect was too strong.

His eyes never leave yours, until you give him an answer.

“Yes, okay. Yes I want it. I want you to show me what I’m missing out on.” You brace yourself for whats coming next, but nothing could prepare you for what he had in mind. He grabs your hips to lift you up, and in shock your arms fly to grab his shoulders. He settles you down in his lap, hands immediately find your ass and grips the flesh through your jeans. You both lean forward, hot breath mixing and hitting your faces. That was until San looses his patience just a few seconds later and presses his lips onto yours. And it wasn’t like anything you have ever felt before.

The two of you move in sync for what feels like ages, his tongue entering your mouth and taking the lead as he continues to grip your waist and butt to draw a few whimpers out of you. Your fingers found their place in his nape and gripped his hair as you busied your mouth with his. He breaks the kiss and moves down towards your neck and starts to suck on your skin, making marks blossom in shades of red and purple.

“If you want this to be a secret, you should make sure to cover up your marks later, because I’m not letting you go without adding my mark to your beautiful, beautiful body.”

Eyes blown out in lust, and you died in anticipation. He sucked more and more hickeys until he was satisfied with the finished product. He lifted his head up again and you wanted to kiss him again.

But then, you heard something hit the door from the outside, followed by a thud and a load groan. “San-ah! Let me in, I need to -“

—

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S3:E2; Chapter Two, The Mall Rats - [Pt. 4 - FINAL]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

Baffled with Mike's sudden behavior, El seeks out Y/n and Max for advice while Will struggles to get through to Mike and Lucas. Billy takes his co-worker on a field trip, and Steve and Dustin enlist a helpful ally in their top-secret mission.

⚠️: s3 mike wheeler, y/n and mike angst. more google translate. the reader eating ice cream [if you're lactose intolerant, it's dairy-free xp], mama steve loving and worrying about his children, his little henderson ducklings especially 🥰 *heavy sigh* oh yeah, kidnapping and more possible allegory to r*pe :( as usual, a marker will be placed but it plays till the end of the chapter so you only need one

🔑: y/f/o = your favorite [ice cream] order

📝: idk if the tip seems small or not but either way keep in mind this was the eighties so inflation hadn't gotten quite as bad yet. As far as the Mike stuff, I know he wasn't being possessive, he was just worried she would get caught and taken away or worse but also he handled it badly, and then everything else in this chapter just kinda rode that angsty bad decision train outta here lmao.

|| 𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ||

"если действовать осторожно... неделя длинная. серебряный--"

Robin pauses her pacing momentarily to point at the tape Dustin has in his hands.

"Wait, that last part, just one more time,"

The sounds of the wires hissing as they rewind fill Robin's thoughtful silence.

"если действовать осторожно... неделя--"

"Okay, that word!" She says, and Dustin quickly presses pause. "Um... it's pronounced... 'dly-nna-ya.'"

"'Dly-nna-ya'" Dustin repeats, nodding excitedly.

"Which is spelled—"

"-D... D, D, D..." Dustin mutters, springing up from his seat, scurrying towards the whiteboard as Robin grabs the book. "The— The chair! The chair-looking thingy!" He says, pointing to the Russian 'д'.

"Yeah, okay," Robin mutters excitedly, hurriedly scribbling into their notes.

The glass partition swings open with a loud clang alerting Steve at the counter.

"We've got our first sentence,"

"Oh, seriously?" He asks, turning around with two orders in his hands.

"Yeah," Robin nods. She drops her voice into a lower pitch and imitates a Russian accent. "The veek is longh,"

Steve's face falls. "Well, that's thrilling,"

"I know, but," she shrugs. "Progress."

With that, she retreats into the window and slides the door close leaving Steve to return to his ice cream slinging duties.

"Okay, here you go. You got uh, a vanilla with sprinkles and extra whipped cream and one y/f/o,"

Steve hands off the rest of the orders to El and Y/n who gladly take them. Max stood next to them, digging into the order she had already been handed. She only comes up to say 'thanks' in near sync with her friends.

"Wait a second," he says, a thoughtful look falling over his face as he frowns at El. "Are even allowed to be here?"

The girls freeze, once again pausing to share a knowing look with growing ice cream-mustached smiles and giggle. In a hurry, the three of them scurry for the door. Y/n nearly makes it before coming to a skidding halt that leaves her bouncing on one foot as she catches her balance. She runs back to the counter with a mischievous smile and a dollar in hand.

Steve watches confused as she tucks the dollar away in the tip jar, and sends him what he finds to be a childish wink.

"Keep this quiet?" She asks, and he almost laughs. But he could tell she was all too serious. "Also this is your tip! Thanks, Steve,"

Steve watches utterly baffled as she turns on her heel and makes a break for the girls waiting just outside and around the corner.

"Okay?" He says, beginning to trail off. "Wasn't gonna tell anyone anyway?"

She's nearly out the door when he realizes what her being here means. He hopes it's not too late to call after her.

"Hey, wait a sec!"

Thankfully, she hears him and turns back around. He motions her forward and while confused, she ultimately complies.

"Hey, uh, does Dustin know you're here?"

Y/n tilts her head as she thinks about it then shrugs.

"I'm not sure, why?" She asks, taking a lick of her ice cream.

Steve hooks a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing to the window but he pauses when he realizes it's better she doesn't know what he's doing here. He quickly plays it off and plants both hands on the counter to lean against it.

"I don't, uh— It's just that he came by earlier and he seemed pretty down about last night,"

Y/n's shoulders slumped immediately, her eyes widening a little.

"He did?" She winced, nibbling nervously on her lip as she looked guiltily at her ice cream. And in doing so, any budding feeling of anger and protectiveness vanishes in Steve. "It's just, he wasn't there when I left and I assumed he went with the guys to Mike's."

With the same, guilty look in her eyes, Y/n glanced over her shoulder at her waiting friends and Steve instantly regretted bringing it up. He sighs, shaking his head.

"Look, it's—"

"If he comes back, will you tell him I'm sorry?" She laughed a little, very sheepishly. "That we can guilt Mom off the TV again so we can a have a monster movie night like we used to, or something?"

In that moment Steve decides not to be honest with her and tell her he's probably still too upset for that, he just doesn't have to heart to. Nor does Steve have the guts to say it wouldn't matter anyway, that he's right in the back room decoding a top-secret Russian communication. So instead, he forces his lips into a firm line that was supposed to be a smile and nods.

"Sure thing, kid,"

She perks a little. "Thanks, Steve. I'll see ya later,"

"Alright, take care," he straightens from the counter, watching as she retreats back out of the shop. He sighs again, almost hating how soft and protective he's become, and calls after her, nodding discretely in El's direction. It all comes out in the form of annoyance, though, naturally. "And don't be stupid, alright?"

Y/n smiles in response and returns to her friends. Together, the three of them disappear into the crowd.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

One of many sets of double doors swing open as Y/n, El, and Max step back out into the sunlight.

Despite their every desires to keep their special day at the mall going, the three girls knew the bus back into town was leaving shortly. Y/n takes another quick and frantic lick of her fastly melting ice cream as Max turns to El and gestures to her strawberry ice cream cone.

"Wanna trade?"

El responds with a giggle and eagerly trades off her vanilla cone for strawberry.

"No... fair," Y/n grumbles, nearly attacking her ice cream as it turns to a puddle before her eyes. She spares only a single second glare enviously at their still freshly frozen cones while she has spent between licks.

"You're not," lick. "making your," lick. "ice cr━ shit!" two licks. "melt."

The girls giggle again, wholeheartedly amused by the sight before them.

"Shut up," another lick.

"That's ridiculous," came a nearby, all too familiar whine. "Why can't I just—"

Max's face falls into a glower, pulling Y/n and El into a stop next to her. "Oh, you gotta be shitting me."

Just across the concrete entrance, fumbling to separate their bikes from the bike stands were Mike, Lucas, and Will.

Forgetting her melting ice cream momentarily, Y/n takes a moment to sigh at the ground when she realizes whatever is about to pass, will be far from good.

"—haven't got that much," Lucas says.

"Okay, what if we split it?"

"Split it with what? Does that even make sense?"

Two of the three boys continue to bicker, completely unaware of the three angry figures making their way towards them. More specifically, two angry figures and one slightly disgusted one who tosses out her nearly finished ice cream cone and the napkin she used to wipe her hands off with in the trash cans they all pass.

"Isn't this a nice surprise?" Max asks, plastering on a smirk as the three boys and their bikes come to a halt before them.

Mike's face pales when he realizes Max had caught him, and even more so when he realizes El is with her. His bike crashes to the ground, forgotten as he gapes at her.

"What are you doing here?"

"Shopping." She answers matter-of-factly, her icy stare never once wavering.

"This is her new style," Max says, eyeing him carefully. "What do you think?"

"What's wrong with you?" He spits, gesturing to El. "You know she's not allowed to be here."

"What is she, your little pet?" Max fires back.

"Yeah. Am I your pet?" El asks.

"What? No!"

"Mike, she needed this," Y/n says. "Besides, you lied to her! What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be here either."

Mike finally turns his wild gaze to Y/n, utterly baffled at the stance she was taking.

"Are you kidding me?" He gawks, ignoring her eye roll. "You of all people should know about keeping her a secret,"

Y/n hotly takes a threatening step forward. "Meaning what?"

"Meaning you would know, you're good at hiding her,"

Everyone inched closer, apart from El who was seething at Mike. Y/n, on the other hand, scoffs loudly, throwing her arms up in frustration.

"You said you were over that!"

"Yeah, well, guess I'm not,"

She looked around quickly, her voice falling into a whispered hiss. "What, so I should be locked up all day, too?"

"Maybe!" Mike said, instantly feeling guilty.

"Mike!" Will snaps, stepping forward another few inches. And so did El, her shoulder subconsciously shielding Y/n. Shielding her from, Mike, or Mike from her, she wasn't sure.

But she knew she was livid. And hurt.

Mike sighs, putting his face into his hands and running them tiredly over his face.

"I'm sorry, that was over the line," he sighs, sounding embarrassed.

"-You're damn right it was," Y/n snapped.

"But that doesn't change the fact that she really can't be here," he corrects himself, looking El in the eye carefully. "You can't be here. It's not safe,"

"I can take care of myself," El says.

"I mean," Mike sighs again, frustrated as he trips over his own words. "you and a lot of other people could be in danger if anybody starts asking questions. I just care about you, alright? And I don't want anything to happen to you, not again,"

El shakes her head, all visible anger melting away leaving only sadness in its wake.

"Then why do you treat me like garbage?"

"What?"

"You said Nana was sick,"

The panic returns to his eyes, and he and Lucas desperately try to cover their tracks.

From over their shoulder, Y/n meets eyes with an exasperated Will, and the couple shares a look and tired shake of the head.

"She is. She is sick!"

"Yeah, sick— she's sick," Lucas nods. "She's super sick. And that's why we're here, actually."

Y/n silently meets Will's eye again and makes out the subtle firm line he presses his lips into and the small shake of his head 'no'.

Oblivious to Will, the two continue.

"Yeah, w-we're shopping! Not for us, but for her, for Nana,"

"For Nana."

"Also," Mike sighs, giving El an earnest look. "we're here to get a gift for you. It's just, we couldn't find anything that suited you and I only have, like, $3.50, so it's hard."

"-super hard." Lucas sighs, giving an honest, apologetic look to all three of them. "It's— It's expensive,"

"Speaking of," came Will's, softened voice. "Here ya go. Sorry it's not real,"

He takes a step forward and sheepishly offers the small goodie bag to Y/n. Everyone watches confused and almost a little intrigued as Y/n takes it curiously. Quickly, she dives her gaze and hand into the baggie and smiles as she pulls out the small y/f/f candy ring.

"Oh, a ring pop?" She flashes Will a beaming smile as she rips open the package and slips it on her finger. "Thanks, Will,"

He nods happily, completely relieved she was this happy to get one.

Y/n's smile drops instantly when she remembers what they're interrupting and she quiets, clearing her throat a little.

"Sorry," she mumbled, sending an especially sorry look to El as her hand graces her shoulders in a gentle apology.

El sends her a weak smile, eyes falling back down. Sadly, she looks to her ice cream and then deeply into Mike's eyes as the day's events all come crashing down on her. And it's with great disappointment she realizes what has hurt her, and what hasn't.

She shakes her head softly, the disappointment evident on her face now more than ever.

"You lie," she says finally, all the more saddened to see Mike squirm under her gaze, only confirming her words. El shakes her head again. "Why do you lie?"

She waits and waits and when Mike can't give an answer, the screech of the bus's tires in the distance tells her a decision must be made. And it's with a seething glare, El makes up her mind.

Everyone watches carefully in silence as she takes three tantalizing steps until she's staring up at Mike. He's frozen, as is everyone else as he fears her next words. And he has every reason to.

"I dump your ass."

Y/n's eyes find Will's once again, this time, regret clouding them when she realizes. Tonight was meant to be spent at his house, dinner with him, Jonathan, and Joyce at least but it seems the day had different plans in mind. She stood rooted to the spot, her lips parted in shock as she processed what had just happened.

She detected sadness in Will's eyes, as she was used she had in her own but reality came crashing down, breaking her from her spell.

"I'm sorry," she sputters, more so to Will than Mike and Lucas. "I didn't think she would," she breathes.

"What?" Mike's widened eyes land on her, flickering between her and El's retreating figure. "Did you tell her to do this?"

"Of course not!" She said, eyes darting between him and Lucas sympathetically. "But it's still their decision. I'm sorry. I am,"

"Y/n! You coming?"

Y/n looked over her shoulder to find El and Max moving up the line, nearly ready to board. From there, El looked between Y/n and Mike, as if she were worried Mike would take it out on Y/n more. Y/n gave her friend a weak, reassuring smile and turned back to the guys.

Will specifically.

"I'm sorry," she said to Will, beginning to back away even though she didn't really want to leave him. "But I think I need to be with them right now. Is it okay if we take a rain check?"

Will smiled, nodding and she felt a fresh wave of guilt. She could have sworn she saw a hint of sadness but if it was ever there, he had buried it for her sake.

In a spur of the moment, she ran forward and planted a kiss on his lips before pulling back. She shot Lucas and Mike a lingering look, not really knowing what to feel for them in the moment.

And then she took off.

The three friends stood baffled, reeling from how much everything had changed so quickly. Their legs kicked into gear and followed the crowds to the bus but the doors had just swung closed. From where they stood at the curb, they could make out three familiar lingering silhouettes from behind the tinted windows, all piling in together.

Max had nabbed the window seat, El seating herself next to her. It was only a matter of moments before Y/n had joined them, plopping herself in the seat directly behind them. She peeked out over the low backs of their seats, wedged right in between them with a breathless look.

For just that moment, the three best friends sat there in stunned silence before breaking into a breathless laugh.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The sun had set behind even the lowest of valleys, bathing the town in a pale glow and unforgiving chill that couldn't be quenched even on the hottest days of summer. Starcourt mall was alive in every way but one; the hum of the neon lights reached every corner, but the mall had long since closed leaving it a beautiful, vibrant wasteland.

The only remaining occupants were tucked away in the backroom of Scoops Ahoy, standing before a whiteboard facing the daring truth they had worked so hard to uncover. In perfect sync, they read the words aloud with confusion muddling their brains and exhaustion filling their systems.

"The week is long, the silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west."

Steve, Robin, and Dustin stand before the translation willing something to make sense. But all they were left with when they turned in for the night, closing the grated metal gate that went with closing up shop was utter bafflement.

"I mean, it just..." Steve sighs into the ground, the keys in his hand turning in the lock. "It just can't be right."

"It's right," Robin assures. When Steve returns to his feet the three of them begin their lazy journey to the exit.

"Honestly, I think this is great news," Dustin shrugs.

"How is this great news?" Steve chuckles bitterly. I mean, so much for being American heroes. It's total nonsense."

"It's not nonsense. It's too specific. It has to be a code."

Steve's face screws up into a puzzled pout. "What do you mean, a code?"

"Like a super-secret spy code,"

"That's a total stretch,"

"I don't know, is it?" Robin scoffs.

"You're buying into this?"

"Listen, just for kicks, let's entertain the possibility that it is a secret Russian transmission. What'd you think they were gonna say, 'Fire the warhead at noon'?"

"Exactly," Dustin gestures, his gaze returning up to Steve to see the gears spinning in his head.

"And my translation is correct," Robin assures. "I know that for sure, so... 'The silver cat feeds'. Why would anyone talk like that unless they're trying to mask the true meaning of their message?"

"Exactly!"

"And why would anyone mask the true meaning of their message unless the true meaning of their message was somehow sensitive?"

By now, Dustin was rubbing his triumphant smirk in Steve's face. "Exactly."

"So I guess that confirms your suspicion," Robin says, looking to Dustin who remains triumphant.

"Evil Russians,"

Robin wears a tired smile as she looks back at Steve with a dry chuckle. "I can't believe I'm about to agree with this strange child, but, yeah, totally evil Russians."

"So how do we crack it?" Dustin asks, flashing his charming toothless grin her way.

"Well, I guess we translate the rest and hopefully a pattern emerges."

"A pattern. Right, like maybe 'silver cat' is a meeting place?"

"Or a person."

"Or a weapon,"

"It's probably gonna take a super genius to track it, but..." Robin trails off when she notices she is one dingus short. "Where's Steve?"

The new duo spin on their heels where they spot their missing friend a few yards down. He had a frown screwed onto his face as he stood in front of one of the many kiddie rides, his hands diving into his pockets no doubt searching for coins. Sure enough, the clinking of coins rattling together as he purs them out in his palm confirms their suspicions.

"Hey, Steve," Robin calls, her empty hand swinging limply out in a puzzled gesture. "What are you doing?"

"Uh, it's," Steve doesn't bother answering her question and the only time he picks his eyes up off his hands is to check the mechanical horse for its cost. "a quarter. I need--" he mumbles to himself, looking hopefully to his friends. "Do you have a quarter?"

Despite her confusion, Robin lets out a chuckle, and she and Dustin quickly shuffle over to Steve's side. "Sure you're tall enough for that ride?"

"Quarter!" He yells, jumping forward to catch the coin Robin flipped out for him.

He catches it with a clumsy spin and drops his knees to insert it into the ride. They watch was Steve remains huddled on the ground, a funny look on his face as the ride begins. Robin can't resist poking fun, and does with little strain on her voice to be heard over the music.

"You need help getting up, little Stevie?"

"Shh-shh! Shh!" Steve snaps, gesturing to the galloping horse. More specifically the music it plays. "Would you two just shut up and listen?"

Robin and Dustin are almost shocked at his seriousness, but the smile remains on Dustin's face from Robin's comment. That is until it eventually slips off his face when he realizes why the familiar tune being played before them was so familiar.

"Holy shit," he breathes, locking eyes with a grave-looking Steve. Dustin looks to Robin, helping her to connect the dots as he begins shedding his backpack from his shoulders. "The music,"

He had heard it all day. They all had while translating the tape. The very tune Steve had been complaining so much about.

"The music!" Dustin cries again, dropping to his knees as he desperately fishes his bag for the tape.

How had he not recognized it? Y/n and him used to ride the Indiana Flyer at the fair as soon as they were old enough. And then the caricell, over and over every year until they were old enough to ride the bigger rides. And even then, the tune carried out across the Fun Fair where it could be heard from as far as the top of the Ferris wheel. The two of them would drag their mother every year. It was the sound of his childhood.

Dustin presses play on the tape, and as he gazes up at Robin, silently pleading for the dots to connect the sound of the song on the tape is louder than Russian for the first time all day.

But Robin only shrugs between them.

"I don't understand,"

"It's the exact same song on the recording,"

"Maybe they have horses like this in Russia?"

"The 'Indiana Flyer'? I don't..." Steve shakes his head. The look on his face made clear he wished he was wrong. He looked... unsettled. "I don't think so. This code, it... it didn’t come from Russia."

And they that unease. They could feel it settling into their chests, making their hearts beat a little faster and their stomach twisting up into knots at what he said next.

"It came from here."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The roads are empty, even still. Crickets sing into the night and the steady breeze taking itself through Hawkins back roads are momentarily swept up with the leaves when a lone Chevrolet Camaro pulls into Brimborne. The lot remained abandoned, seemingly, other than the figure stepping out of the car, with sweat on his brow.

The summer sun had set hours ago, taking the searing heat with it. But the humidity that clung to the air felt to be Billy like he was sitting far too close to an open fire. But still, he lumbers to the trunk where the reason for his being here lies.

The latch opens with a loud clunk, and the trunk lid opens slowly. His eyes find the contents immediately, as does the murky light from the trunk bulb onto his face.

She was still unconscious.

A foreign voice in his brain — the one who had brought them both here, the one to have put here — spoke up again without permission. And yet, it didn't exactly speak in words, but feelings. And all that shot to the surface was one thing — one word.

Good.

It was Billy who couldn't stop thinking about it. What he had done. The small part of him that fought.

[■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■]

- 𝗙𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞 -

Among the pain, Billy feels tears building up inside him when he realizes what that tug in his gut is ordering him to do. He can also feel it happening again. He can feel himself slipping away, just as he had when he fled for the showers. But this time he fought it.

God, he fought it so hard.

But it wasn't enough.

His nails dug into the flesh of his knees that he had been clutching so tightly to his chest. That and the tears racing down his cheeks now blending with the water were the last things to happen that were truly Billy's doing.

"Billy, are you okay—?"

The last thing Billy sees before he loses control is his hand lunging for Heather's throat. His iron grip locks her in a chokehold and her hands fly to his. Desperately she claws at his hands, her nails raking into his skin but he never flinches. She feels her feet leave the ground, her toes grazing the tile floor as he picks her up and pins her to the stall doors.

Her widened, fearful eyes look deep into his but all she finds as he rips the curtain closed is the lack of human emotion within him. His eyes were hollow, the whites of his eyes running black and they are the last thing she sees before unconsciousness overtakes her.

- 𝗘𝗡𝗗 𝗢𝗙 𝗙𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞 -

She's limp in his arms as he carries her throughout the darkness of Brimborne whose only source of light is moonlight spilling through the dirtied glass window panes hanging high above. He walks with all the time in the world, his eyes dead set on the last place Billy ever wanted to see again. The only sound to be heard within miles was the scuffle of his rubber soles scraping against the dirt and leaves sprinkled across the concrete.

The scratchy thumps of his boots turn to metal echoes as he disappears down the darkened stairwell. From there, inky blackness like the sludge coursing through his veins is all that can be seen. Little moonlight has survived the journey through the grated floor, but there was enough to illuminate Heather's body that he places onto the cement floor.

Soft, discomforted groans break through the duct tape over her mouth as she comes to. She rolls onto her back, confused as to why she feels pain in her head and cement digging into her spine.

But everything she needs to know becomes all too clear almost instantly when she sees Billy's hollowed eyes staring down at her from where he's perched above her. Panic sets in, and as she realizes all too late why she is unable to move her hands or feet. That doesn't stop Heather from trying as she fights against the restraints, eager to use her dried-out voice.

Her breath is knocked loose when Billy throws her back into the ground after she managed to sit up even an inch.

He keeps a small majority of his weight on her shoulders as he leans in close, his breath on her ear.

"Don't be afraid. It'll be over soon."

Tears tickle her temple when they escape her eyes. She prays for many things, but she'll even settle for the small possibility the sweat collecting on her skin is enough to weaken the tape on her mouth. Then maybe, just maybe she can scream for help.

"Just stay very still."

This specific hope fizzles away, drowning in her own confusion when, without moving his head, he looks to her and slowly peels the tape off of her lips.

She's too shocked to do anything. Too afraid. But she wasn't prepared to let that stop her. Heather was going to do something, she had to. She would.

But that all died when Billy suddenly stood up, looking almost disinterested in her as an eery, unnatural sound reverberates throughout the darkness before her. Slowly, her head turns to face the dark abyss when she catches movement out of the corner of her eye.

His face is as hard as stone though his eyes hold a flicker of struggle and pain when it all unfolds. Heather may be the only one in binding, but she is not the only one who is trapped. There is nothing at all Billy can do but watch as the large and bloodied mass of flesh stomps forward from the shadows, ready to feast.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

68 Ways To Donate in Support Of Asian Communities - [link]

FSFAPV Justice: "community family coalition that offers help and justice to families in the Twin Cities and nationwide that have lost loved ones to police violence" - [link]

30 Organizations That Are Boosting African American Educational Achievement - [link]

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

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[rhaenyraisadyke]

It's been a year! Transcript: 8/3/21 Here is also a google doc of the transcript if that is easier to read!

*Starts out with happy birthday on a guitar playing*

Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday to me. Happy Birthdayyyy to meee, Happy Birthday to me

*Drinks a swig of alcohol*

Ah. Yeah it’s my birthday today, which um seems odd, it doesn't feel like i've been here that long… but I have. Cheers everyone uh. I realise I haven't really done much in a while.

I woke up this morning, rolled out of bed, put out this cake I made three months ago and uh, that's kind of been it, but yeah… I don’t think I’ve left this room in 80 days. About 80 days… How long is 80 days? I- I- that's a lot of months… that's been a long time… Also my vision just went black, I’ve been drinking a lot, um this is that possibly catching up with me um please return vision, I’d really like for it to be back, well I can hear things so at least i'm not deaf ya know? The lord has kept my hearing but I am blind, no um yep there we go.

I decided to get dressed up as well. I figured that would be nice, ya know? I’m pretty sure I was part of them back when I joined, so.. .I don't know if it felt like it made sense to dress up again. Um, fucking hell, I have not cleaned. *sighs* I’ll be honest, in the time I was gone, not very… not very much has happened, uh, it turns out you need customers to support a hotel, and I don’t know about you guys but I haven't seen one on this place for a pretty long while. So uh, basically what I’m saying is… the big jack manifold hasn't been going too hot, god, you don’t provide these guys with food for eighty days and they all go bones and evil.

LEAVE out you bard, you-

The point is, very little has been done here for quite awhile, and um I haven't been outside or seen anyone, and I- I didn't’ finish the pub. Um, you may be asking me, “but jack wasn't that the only thing you were working towards? I know but with the failure of the hotel, I kind of realised that again pubs also rely on customers and the very limited people on this server, as we can all see it really ah um, well it didn’t seem very fruitful. So um, we're kinda just here, living here rent free ever since we claimed this place… I actually don’t know who pays the rent.. Maybe Tommy still does um. I Don't know- anyway since I’ve been here for a year and I haven't really looked around in three months, I thought we would go and look around at everything that we once saw, you know?

I must admit the investment of the alcohol from the pub has been the only thing keeping-.. I shouldn't say that, let's not speak about that part. Yeah it turns out that this place, look I haven't been outside in eighty days and I think maybe since I’ve been here for a year I can go back and have a look around at everything. And um as I said I dressed up for the occasion, so um you know… lets see what's changed hmmm?

Anyway let's walk around shall we? Well this didn’t change, we still got mcpuffys here. Hehe, no one noticed my balls sign hehe, no one noticed, I forgot about this, no one noticed I replaced whatever the original one was with balls in hope they wouldn't notice and they didn't. Ahh that's good, I like that. Anyway, there's the duck and Ponk’s tower that seem pretty much the same.

This looks different, this was a hole.. Who are you? Alright? You know we are the only two people on the server right now? (talking to shroud) This basically means we gotta become friends. So.. tell me about yourself.. Sir? Madam? Shroud, alright. Oh Ohhh I stole some of these! Did I ever give them back? Whoops, oh well. Ahh, it's been quiet without him ya know tommy. I’ll be honest, theres been very little to do, with him gone, um, the fuck did ninjas house go? Why does it look like a very small mcdonalds?

Right, this tower, this seems pretty much the same. Does the sewer still exist? Hm oh wait does it not? What ohh no what happened to the sewers? Aw, there was a whole sewer system out there one time and oh wow. Why is there no longer a sewer there? Wait oH OH it is down here!

One of the first things I remember is me tommy and tubbo and quackity, before he even joined and was still in juvy we, hehe, we did a little heist on everyone and we stole the poo machines and stole everything and then we had a little room, and it was here and we stole the phantom membranes. It was a good time, it was a good time, I liked that and then ah there had only been one war. It's crazy to think there's been more, I thought we’d figure it out the first time, you know? It was fun. And we were called the beatles. Either way yeah.

Why the fuck is half of this place beatroots? Why are half of these beetroots and the other half potatoes? Why is it all farm?? Why? Why is it beats? Wait where did gay target go? Why is there just a beacon here? At least there's huts pizza. Employee of the first two days, of dunderbeatlin… the fuck is dunderbeatlin? What's this? Why are there new things? I know it's been eighty days but why?

This is the L’manburg museum, bearing in mind I'm dressed like this I should go see it.

Oh! It's like different things. This is like the community house, okay that's cool and that's the egg.. This is a replica it won't hurt you… oh it doesn't it won't actually hurt you. I guess they remade that shit. What even happened with that thing? I remember it tried to possess me once and then I bathed in the holy water and I was good again. Oh wow it's like a map of the whole server and there's egg gunk. And then and then and then here.. Where am I? Oh… is that lmanburg? Where is lmanburg? Oh wait oh yeah yeah wait I forgot…. Oh…. yeah….. Um….heh yeah….

OH its the lmanburg walls! I remember tearing them down and rebuilding them a lot and the hotdog van! Does it have the declaration in it? No it doesn't… It is blue. Ohhh…… I joined the day after this (the final control room) God, it's been a whole year since then… What's this? Wait… I feel like there's missing lines here. I don’t know if sorry, you know? Oh, look here, oh it just says i'm sorry. (erets apology book) I’m not all that sure that sorry quite cuts that. What's this? Oh this looks unfinished. Oh here's a map of old lmanburg! OH that's ze house! Before… I burnt it down and decided I wasn't gonna have manifold land anymore.. I miss that, I miss lmanburg.

It was a lot easier to dream when we were friends. Everyone feels so distant now but maybe that's because I haven't seen them, maybe that didn't help I mean no one came to say hi to me. Oh, oh, my main takeaway was that, wait it's not glass anymore, it's like a cavern, it was glass the last time I was there, it's changed since I was here to remember what happened… Why does it look like this? Hmm I don't know. Ah this was my cove, and it was untouched until I burnt it down fuck you.

Oh and theres my secret base that I never finished, FUCK YOU - fuck I hate him, anyway… oh there's the big obsidian bridge, oh isn't this where tommy was exiled? Over this way? I think… That means it was somewhere along here that… wait no it was right here… right? We turned on these stairs, stepped down, and pretty sure it was right here… he dug this.. I don’t think I want to visit this place. I want to go back, this isn't really where I want to be.

Anyway um, I wonder if Snowchester has changed. Lets go visit, okay um, that's weird that's freshly planted. Let's head over to Snowchester its that way. Since when was Tubbos' house back? Didn’t Tommy burnt it down? I swear this got burnt down.. I remember the ruins of it, there was a nether tree farm then in it… anyway…. Let's go check out fundys place. I haven't seen him in FOREVER. The last time I saw him was the last war… the day… the last war… WHY ARE THERE BIG MUSEUM THINGS EVERYWHERE??

Where's fundys house? I built it. I remember building it as a prank and then he liked it and lived in it.. Where's my tower? It was here next to the fox, his little fox hole… my towers were gone, it was definitely here, it was a million percent here and it was right next to it. It was somewhere there was a button it had a button. There was a big sign made out of obsidian…

I don’t know if you can tell, but I’ve been pretty purposeless for the past eight days… what the fuck? That's a HOLE. That's a big ass hole! That wasn't always there?! When did a hole show up?? There's a HOLE in my hotel!! I'm trying not to lose my cool and you know when I go the day that I joined, and the first person that greeted me was tommyinnit and still, I wish, I just wish someone logged in and said “hey jack happy one year” and I try to build them a pub and one of these *drinks a swig of alcohol* I mean at least..

Every time….. Everything here and how come it's all the things I care about that get blown up? Lmanburg… Manifold Land- Well I did manifold land but I was pissed off - Everything I care about on this server gets blown up, or destroyed or taken advantage of or.. Betrays me, that happens a lot. I’m not sure if I wanna be here anymore.

I’m not sure if I want to have anything to do with this… maybe that's it. Maybe that's it. What does this place bring? What does this place bring? Ever since I have been part of the “Dream SMP” Things are given to me that are eventually taken or destroyed, friends leave, DEATH, not everyone has died on the server and come back to life admittedly, I have now but the point is, I AM VERY DEFINITE I DON'T WANT ANYTHING TO DO WITH THIS SERVER ANYMORE… Alright? Almost everyone that has promised me something has turned their back. Almost everyone. The last thing anyone said to me was “Ah when las nevadas comes about, we will have a deal jack.. I’ll make it big” Yeahh.. .he really brought a lot of business. How's Las Nevadas doing?? Because when I HEARD it would be done and bring me customers, surely not another person would give me false hope.

Tubbos was the only one I can trust, Tubbo and Niki. I know Niki has become an anarchist or whatever but at least she's happy, and Tubbo was always kind.

I think Las Nevadas is somewhere over here. Let's go look at how “done it is” and how ready for business they are… Looking PRETTY finished for me. Big sign, big building, nice roads. Looking pretty… done. Pretty ready for a business deal. Isn't that a shocker… Isn't it weird yet again that someone promised me something and it fell through again?

So FUCK IT I don’t wana see Snowchester, I dont want to see anything, My WHOLE TIME on this server has been doing things for other people and fighting peoples wars, right? Keeping up hotels and pubs for people to stay, trying to kill people at worst that wasnt me and fighting for them. I haven't done anything for myself. ANYTHING AT ALL. And I said the hotel was for me and look where it got me- in a room for 80 days and a giant bottle of cider I have yet to finish- so fuck it! I’m not dealing with anyone else anymore. The “DREAM SMP” I’m gonna go out and start my own thing. I’m gonna call it the “Dream SSP” survival single player because I’m not dealing with anyone else anymore. Alright?

The day Tommy died, I said I was done with manifold land because the only thing it ever stood for was trying to get rid of him, and although it was also about getting back at him, it was about other people, but this time, I have something new in mind, something completely different…

NEW Manifold land will not cater to anyone else, not fight for anyone else, to I don’t know be anything for anyone else really. New Manifold land will stick very strictly to the name and persist of purely Jack Manifold, and I might steal Godzilla back from Tubbo (his arctic fox). Because as much as I said Niki was kind and Tubbo was kind, where they been the past 80 days? No one came to the hotel. No one came looking for me to which point, I say I’m gonna find myself my own little place. I’m just gonna live. I’m gonna do what I want, the only thing is, I need to find an area of my own, we need to travel. So let's get moving hmm?

[nightklok]

Kloktober Day 1 Prompt

Prompt: Favorite Character and OTP Pairing: Picklegail (Pickles the Drummer/Abigail Remeltindtdrinc) Title: The war is over and we are beginning Characters: Pickles the Drummer, Abigail Remeltindtdrinc, Eclair (cat), band members and charles are only mentioned Trigger Warnings: Very slight angst, very slight mention/discussion of trauma/PTSD. Tags: Some dark humor, mentioned trauma, discussion of trauma, fall, post galagtikon 2, hopeful/happy ending Summary: It's the first fall Pickles has realized he's lived through in years.

Author's Note: Yes this is...6 days late-But i still wanted to publish this anyway so enjoy :')

Read this fic on AO3 or read below!

The first day of fall fell on a Saturday.

And Pickles would realize it was the first time he had actually been aware of fall in years.

He couldn’t remember the last time he saw the leaves change or pumpkin picking or any of the fall activities he sparingly went to as a kid. He simply had no time, family, or desire to do any of those things as he grew older. He had the sudden moment of sadness that he had missed another fall but told himself fall was gonna come back next year and he’d just look at the leaves harder next fall. But he never did.

But now, he had the time. A lot of it. And a fresh perspective on life and just how wonderful living a quiet life was.

Getting to sleep in on a Saturday morning with the person he loved the most and having nothing else to do for the day was one of them. Normally, Abigail was the one who woke up earlier but for the weekend, it got to be the opposite. He could get up in an hour, make some breakfast and they could see about doing something together. Whether it’s going outside or staying in and watching something. But at the moment, he was content enough just sleeping.

But it wouldn’t last long sadly. Despite nothing important needing to be done for the day, he was woken up by the sound of meowing and a cat smacking his face.

Éclair, their beautiful cat they found outside a K-Mart, happened to like going on walks in the morning. And she was very persistent about her walks being exactly at 7:13 AM. It was 7:13 AM.

“C’mon, it’s Saturday,” He murmured as he pulled the blanket closer to his face, hoping that he could sleep for just a few more minutes.

But Éclair had no concept of time and would continue pawing at the sheets and when she began whining, he knew that his time sleeping in was already over. He didn’t want to wake her up and figured she deserved the extra hour of sleeping.

“Okay, okay, I’ll take you on a walk,” Pickles finally answered as he used a hand to gently push her away just so he could sit up. He was careful to not disturb Abigail but he saw her move and murmur something he couldn’t quite hear. He had to assume by the tone that she meant she was gonna do it. She always tried to even when he told her to sleep in on weekends.

“Just go back to sleep, babe, I’ll take care of it.” He answered quickly as he got out of bed but she was already sitting up.

“I’ll come with you.” She answered, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes., “Just give me a few minutes.”

There was no convincing otherwise and he was too tired himself to argue. He quickly snuck in a kiss before he got out of bed, “Alright, take your time.”

By the time he had thrown on some clothes and made himself look presentable enough, Abigail was already by the front door, kneeling down to leash Éclair. Despite them taking the same time to get ready, she looked like she had spent much more time doing it. Then again, she always looked beautiful to him regardless of how much time she spent.

He really did save the world to get to see today huh.

She stood up once she leashed the cat and turned to look at him with that small smile he always loved, “Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” He answered as he made sure he put the house keys in his pocket before opening the door to let her out first before himself. Éclair already began wandering around the front lawn, as far as her leash would go.

They were hit by a cool breeze that gently swayed the trees surrounding them, causing some of the red and orange leaves to fall gracefully onto the ground. The trees weren’t entirely turning their leaves yet but the appearance was showing much more by the day. And each day only meant another normal day. The worst was behind them.

“You sure you don’t wanna get a jacket?” She asked.

“Nah, I’ll be fine. Got my own body heat.” He answered before he pulled her slightly closer enough to feel her skin heat up by the touch, “Besides I know how you can warm me up if I get cold.”

She wanted to mention about the neighbors or anybody seeing them but there was no one around at the moment. It was just them enjoying the early morning fall, the cool breeze and quiet excitement for a new season that just begun.

“Well, are you cold now?” She asked as she pulled him a bit closer.

He didn’t say anything else but reached up to kiss her, feeling her warm lips as they pressed against his. It felt as compassionate as the other thousands of kisses they must’ve shared in their lifetime. Honestly, he could probably find the same feelings he felt kissing her when he got a first kiss; the excitement, anticipation and pure love that he got to kiss someone he loved.

Their kiss was interrupted when she felt her leash getting tugged by Éclair who had grown impatient of them. She sat as far as the leash would let her, looking up at them expectantly. Amused, they walked past their front lawn to the sidewalk but felt the leash being pulled once again. They turned around to find her sitting still, meowing impatiently.

“C’mon, wanna walk a bit more? No? Okay.” Pickles answered with a laugh as Abigail went to pick her up. Almost immediately, she climbed up on her shoulders as she always preferred.

Her idea of walking outside was to walk a few steps and one of them had to pick her up for the rest of the walk. Walking around a block required too much energy. Did they expect her to actually walk alongside them every morning? Yes. Did she never fulfill that dream? No. But they also fed into her routine and nature, it wasn’t just their house anymore after all.

There was no use in arguing with a stubborn cat. She had made her territory in Abigail’s shoulder and they simply had to go along with it. She adjusted the leash so the other end of it would hook onto the inner jacket pocket that had a small sewn in hole meant for earphones. Once she made sure that the leash was secure inside, she reached over to hold his hand who quickly took it.

They took the usual route around the block. Shoes crunched against freshly fallen leaves, the wind picked up slightly again causing the leaves around them to move gently against the wind to a new area. If Pumpkin Spice Lattes and Apple Cider weren’t a symbol that fall was approaching, it was the leaves.

Pickles did try to remember when he last fall. Was it when he was a kid? A teen, maybe? He always fled before fall approached somehow. Always ended up in an area where he could not see the seasons change and everything remained a stagnant season the whole time.

But there was nothing to run from anymore. He could stay and watch the seasons change and turn forever if he wanted to now. Is this what freedom really feels like?

“Do you wanna go grab some coffee at the coffee shop?” She asked, interrupting his thoughts.

He quickly snapped his attention back to her and nodded, “Yeah, actually, the one two blocks from here, right?”

“Yep.”

He knew she knew that something was on his mind but she thankfully didn’t say anything. She already knew enough that he would speak when he was ready and he was always thankful for being able to fill in the gaps when he couldn’t speak. And she would always be thankful when he knew what she meant to say when she could barely get a word. It was a secret language between the two that no one but them knew and it was one they were both incredibly fluent in.

The coffee shop was a mom-and-pop one located on the end of the corner. LGBT friendly (Did he ever find those kind of coffee shops growing up?) and even had a small corner of the area for younger kids to play with. It was one of the places that they always loved frequently going to-if they weren’t well known to the world, they would’ve been known pretty well to the baristas.

“I can take Éclair, you can go order for us.” Pickles said. There were seats outside and given the weather, it wouldn’t be so bad to just sit outside and drink coffee while enjoying nature.

“Alright. The usual?”

“Surprise me.”

Pickles managed to take Éclair off her shoulder and set her down when he found a seat with decent shade. He tied the leash to the pole of the table but she seemed uninterested in exploring and instead jumped on his lap, presumably to take a quick nap.

He checked his phone while he waited, trying to catch up on whatever missed emails and posts from friends he had missed. Admittedly, going from seeing his friends everyday to now once a week at most was one of the toughest things to shift to. From knowing everything that went on in their lives, his knowledge of their whereabouts now came from whatever they posted in the group chat or social media.

Toki’s selfie with Magnus over the Eiffel Tower during their backpacking in Europe route. Nathan’s blurry image of a kid playing with a gator from the alligator rescue/children’s daycare he had started with Rachel. Skwisgaar’s video of one of the songs he was working with Nathan. A prototype rollercoaster blueprint from Murderface for the Dethklok amusement parks he and Knubbler were in charge of. And Charles not sending a photo but reminding him through text about a meeting regarding his solo album.

It was a crazy feeling to have looking at the boys he had lived with for more than a decade suddenly doing their own things. Did he feel left out? Maybe things were moving too fast? Miss the old times? He didn’t really know.

He found himself staring at his screen for far too long until Abigail came back taking a seat in front of him, “They’ll be coming over in a few minutes.”

He set the phone down, “Alright, what’d you get me?”

“You did mention you wanted me to surprise, didn’t you?” She answered with a playful smile that was clear she wouldn’t go easy on him.

“C’mon, I gotta know if I’m allergic to it or not. Could very well be allergic to milk today and might not even know it.”

“Guess it’s up to you to find out then; I’m sure there’s an EpiPen somewhere.”

Of course, she wanted to ask what was wrong but she didn’t want to press him. She knew he would budge eventually, he always did, but it was just a matter of patience and hoping to catch him at the right time.

Eventually, the barista came with the tray of coffees and food she had ordered, including a puppuccino for Éclair who woke up and hopped down to get her treat when Abigail set it down to get everyone’s orders.

She set the pumpkin spiced coffee, cinnamon rolls and a breakfast sandwich in front of him. She had ordered the same pumpkin spice coffee and breakfast sandwich; she always tried to avoid desserts for breakfast but he quickly shoved in a cinnamon roll in her plate anyway, “Here it can be your cheat day.”

“But you made me macrons yesterday.” She pointed out.

“It was sugar-free. And you can’t just pass off on a warm cinnamon roll. It’s bad for the environment I saved.”

She contemplated not even long enough before agreeing. They were pretty good cinnamon rolls…, “Guess I’ll need to pay for your contributions. Alright, I’ll take it.”

Pickles grinned as he took a sip of the coffee. It was still hot but he refused to even express he burnt his tongue for the sake of looking cool, “Great, glad my hard work paid off.”

For as much as he joked around, he didn’t mention anything about what was bothering him for the rest of their breakfast.

He would mention it on the walk back home when it was Pickles’ turn to let Éclair lay on his shoulder and Abigail holding a bag of free treats that the baristas insisted they take home. A few desserts as payment for saving the world. It was well worth it.

“I forgot what fall was like.” Pickles finally said as he looked at her. He didn’t downplay his feelings by joking

“You did?” She asked.

“Yeah. It had been too long since I last saw leaves and everything else and whatever. I guess it’s making me realize how long I missed out on some things, y’know?”

She had to wonder how he even forgot about fall. Or the fact that his hair color always reminded her of it. It was the color of vibrant red autumn leaves, not quite ready to fall yet but when the sun hit it, it showed the intricate details and would even shine as bright as it sometimes. And how could she ever put that into the right words? Maybe it just wasn’t the right moment, “Nostalgia?”

“I-I guess it’s that. Yeah. Nostalgic for the old things I guess. I was too used to that life. And I’m very happy with you, I really am! I’m doing more of the things now than I did before, but it’s hard to just completely let go of the past.”

Of course, he thought she would get offended which is why he didn’t look at her. Here he was clinging to his past again like some spoiled brat. If only he didn’t open his mouth. He probably seemed so ungrateful-

But he was met instead with warm hands taking his and he looked up to a very understanding Abigail, “I understand. There’s some things I miss and feel nostalgic for too. I don’t expect you to not miss those things. These things just end up happening, it’s part of natural life.”

“I guess…it’s just a lot harder to adjust than I thought. I’m sorry if I’m just dumping this on you, though. I know that this hasn’t been easy for you either.”

It wasn’t easy when Abigail could barely sleep without getting horrific nightmares that he had stayed up most nights worrying about. It wasn’t easy when Pickles ended up getting horrific nightmares too when he came back home, and he had yet to tell her all that he dreamt about. Their future kids, grandkids even, and even the current neighborhood kids would ask for stories of their heroism. Do they even dare talk about the price that was paid for it?

It couldn’t even be said that they had overcome it. The nightmares were less frequent, yes, but they were there. All it took was one bad night to ruin a week or month even. The horrors of their past would most likely be there for the rest of their lives, looming over and ready to strike when things seemed to be better.

But they made it so far together too. What’s another mile anyway?

“It hasn’t been easy but we’re both getting there.” She paused her walking to look at him, “We made it so far together, after all. I don’t expect you to be okay the same way you don’t expect me to be okay either, right? I’m not gonna ask you to do anymore than you already are doing and what you’re doing is enough.”

“And if it’s not enough? God, what if I’m just fucking up right now? There’s no way I can just…I don’t even know what. It’s just terrifying to be falling down that dark path again.”

She watched as Éclair looked up to the leaves around them, eyes completely dilated to look at the world around her. A leaf would just brush past her, failed to be caught and it fell to the ground.

Of course the leaves would eventually be raked. Whatever wasn’t thrown out or burned would eventually become mulch for the soil. Would help provide for the soil when spring rolls around. Then everything will grow again. Everything will be okay.

“If we fall again, we start over and flourish.”

—

“What was your last memory with fall if you don’t mind my asking?” Abigail asked that evening. They sat in the living room couch, sharing a blanket as they watched Knives Out. It would quickly become a tradition for them to watch whatever fall-related movies there were just to get in the spirit.

He paused for a moment, before finally coming up with an answer, “I met you, didn’t I? We were at that fall event Cornickelson used to host. It was probably a few years before you became Dethklok’s music producer? But anyway, we were paired at the same table and I was probably awkward as fuck right then and there but you still wanted to talk to me. We went to the garden and we just ended up talking about everything. God, I felt like a teenager with their first crush when I was with you. I never got to say that your hair color reminded me of the leaves.”

[sharktoothedboys]

One Of The Guys - Chapter 2

So here is the next part of the on going Kirishima story i am working on, hope you guys love it!! 

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It had been a few hours since you were punched in the guy by the news that Kiri had bought a date to the event, your event, and didn’t even have the decency to tell you. Not that he had to in any way but still, you would have liked a heads up. 

You had your best pretend smile on your face while inside you were screaming   “I don’t wanna be here anymore!” You had become surrounded by Politicians, no idea how it had happened either, maybe you should stop drinking? Nah! They had roped you in to a chat about cleaning up the city, even though crime rates were at an all time low thanks to you and Shotos agency. Their dirty hands kept creeping up to rest on your waist or small of your back as the conversation continued, Something Kiri would normally be on like a shot and put a stop to. But tonight he was no where to be seen. how rude of him! 

You smiled at the thought, then mentally sobbed a little at the fact he hadn’t so much as looked at you all night, never mind spoken a word to you all evening. You’re only comfort was somewhere at the bottom of a glass, and you had yet to find it. So the drinks kept being poured, you were on your.... who cares?, the bourbon was good, vanilla tones calmed your anger as you necked yet another nest double. Holding up your empty glass, “Please excuse me gentle men, i seem to running on empty.” They all gave a laugh as you excused yourself form the conversation and made your way to the bar to refill your warm smoky liquid. 

You made your way to the bar, seeing your father and twin brother having a conversation on the stools at the end you decided to join them, holding up your glass to the bar tender as you did so, he rushed to replenish your drink and quickly returned with a full glass for you before you even sat down in between the two men, noting how small you looked perched between them and making a mental note to hit the gym a little more. 

“Haven’t you had enough of those tonight?” Your father said with a knowing smirk on his lips. A smile even, one you had only just recently become accustomed to. 

“Not nearly enough, dad” You replied with a finger gun and a wink, probably an indication you had in fact had enough to drink. Regardless you raised your glass to the two men and then to your lips, “To us” you say quietly looking to Shoto who raised his glass in silence in return to your toast. 

Your brother of course knew of your not so little secret crush on the red hero, of course he did, you rarely hid anything from each other, and he had quickly realized why you were slamming back double bourbons like they were going out of fashion. He had seen the woman practically attached to Kirishimas hip earlier on in the night and had been keeping an eye on you ever since, knowing you were probably not going to take it well, it may have been 12 years since your crush had began, but it had never faltered and he knew that, he also knew that you were not emotionally equipped to deal with this kind of situation. He watched as you necked another double, your cheeks a flaming red, a hiccup leaving your lungs as you smacked the glass onto the bar, he indicated to the barman, no more, then he called over a surprisingly sober Mina to help him get you upstairs. 

“Thank you Mina.” He quietly said as they guided you towards the elevators.

“No worries Sho,” She replied, still using his high school nickname that made him smile at her, “ I am deadpan sober, so I am here to help.” 

“Why are you sober? I haven’t seen you with one drink all night.” He asked, “Its a special night, I imagined seeing you dancing on tables with a jelly shot.”

“Normally I would be, but think about it Sho, why wouldn’t a women, actively trying to get pregnant, not be drinking?” She smirked at him and it clicked in his mind. 

His eyes widened and a small smile tugged at his lips as she out her finger to her mouth, a silent agreement between old friends that he would keep quiet.

“I’ll get her to bed if you wanna go and finish up your evening, one of you should be present at least.” She told him as she managed to get you to stagger in to the elevator that had just arrived, “Please tell Bakugo where I have gone, you know what he is like.” 

Shoto watched as you leaned against the cool glass of the wall, shoes in hand, “Goodnight Sho.” You said, a little slurred as the doors closed, he raised his hand in a goodbye gesture. He was Mad at the red headed boy, but he didn’t understand why, as far as he knew, Kirishima knew nothing of his sisters feelings and was unknowingly hurting her, but he was still mad at him for hurting her. But what could he do? really? 

You and Mina made it to your apartment and managed to stagged in to your bedroom, where Mina managed to get you sat on the end of the bed, where you just tried to lay yourself down in your gown. 

“Oh no no!” Mina said dragging you back to sitting up. “Come on, at least take off the dress.”

You sat at the end of the bed and whined like a child being told to eat the vegetables, you raised your arms, a silent plea for Mina to remove your dress for you as you didn’t have the capacity to do it yourself. She gave a small giggle as she looked at your puppy dog eyes and carefully unzipped and removed your dress for you and replaced with an absolutely huge crimson riot t-shirt that was folded on your pillows, assuming it was sleep wear but quickly realizing it was one of Kirishima’s fan boy shirts he always let you borrow, that you almost never returned. You tucked your arms in to the shirt and managed to unhook your bra yourself and let it fall to the ground and off your body as you stood to also remove your underwear, the shirt being long enough to cover your dignity. 

That’s when Mina saw the glint in your eyes, The threat of tears ready to spill over your eyeline and down your now very pink cheeks. Her heart broke for you, she knew how emotionally stunted you could be, along with the shyness that ran in your bloodline, she mentally slapped Kirishima for never noticing your feelings and making you suffer all these years. Her only wish right now was that you had gained the courage to tell him, but you never could and it pained her to see you this way. 

“Y/N...” She began, Placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. 

“It smells like him.” You choked out, your breath racking your lungs and making it difficult for you to speak.

“Lets get you to bed.” She softly spoke, knowing the amount of drink in your body wasn’t helping and you needed sleep. Her heart really went out to you, when would you get your happy ending? She got you into bed and tucked in the sheets around you, oh how she wished you could have just told him all the wat back in 1A, but maybe that’s just not how things were meant to be? Its not like you had never had a boyfriend, but things never seemed to click, mainly because they were either afraid or insecure of the sheer amount of power your quirk held, or that fact that they were not Eijiro Kirishima. Mina sighed as she watched you fall asleep, a peaceful look finally overtaking your heartbroken features. Happy you were in a deep sleep, she left to go to Bakugos apartment and get some rest herself, leaving you a glass of water and a note to call her when you woke up. 

The next morning. 

You woke up, a little worse for wear to say the least. Your eyes slightly stuck together from un removed make up, your head surprisingly wasn’t to bad, but your mouth was dryer than the Sahara, you needed water. Luckily you found what mina had left you, downed the water and decided to call her once you had freshened up a little. 

You headed to the bathroom, you washed your face, brushed your teeth, sorted out your hair and felt much better. You noticed you were in His shirt and a wave of sadness washed over you as you remembered the woman, Kimiko. You shook off the sadness and made your way back to your bedroom to get ready for the day, luckily you were not on patrol today. 

As you exited the bathroom a flash of red caught your eye as Kiri was just leaving his room,  A Smile automatically began to pull at your lips until you saw he was closely followed out by her, both of them smiling widely, her hands on his bare chest, “I could break her hands with the blink of an eye.” You thought to yourself as you seethed from the bath room door. Trying to not let the anger get to you, thanks for anger issues dad! 

“Oh!! Good morning Y/N!” Kiri said happily giving you a beaming smile that you found very had to stay mad at, he waved cutely from the end of the corridor, adorable. Luckily your room was closest to the bathroom so you wouldn’t actually have to walk past them. Thank god. 

“Morning.” You replied, a little grumpier than you intended. 

“Woah!! You ok? A little hungover?” He laughed as he pulled Kimiko into his side. Not noticing the stank look she was giving you. 

You laughed dryly in response, running  ahnad through your freshly brushed locks.

“Something like that.” 

“What are you wearing?” Kimiko almost demanded as she put her hand on the hip that wasn’t surgically attached to Kirishima. 

You looked down at yourself and back at her with a confused look on your face. 

“Erm... a t-shirt.” you replied, sarcastically of course. 

“Is that my Kiri’s shirt?” She asked, the question loaded with Malice, You weren’t taking it. 

“No, I always wear a 5XL,�� You retorted. “Of course its his shirt, I always sleep in his shirts.”

“Well, I think that’s really disrespectful, considering he has a girlfriend now.”

Girlfriend? You think you physically feel your heart stop.

Kirishima watched with a bewildered look on his face, as you looked over to him, he looked away and kept his eyes from looking at you. 

‘Thanks for defending me’ You thought to yourself. You stared her down a little, deciding what to do next. 

“Fine.” You said bitterly, angry that Kirishima had done absolutely nothing to make her not talk to you like dirt. “Here, you can have this one back now!” 

Then without missing a beat, and knowing full well you had nothing on underneath, you removed the giant shirt from your body and threw it down on to the floor in front of them. 

Stood there in all your glory, you smirked at her and then looked to Kirishima. 

“Its not manly to stare, Kirishima.” 

You then side stepped in to your room and slammed the door behind you. 

That’s when what you had just done hit you, your heart was racing, you had never done anything so bold in your life! Kiri just saw you Naked, and not in th way you had wanted him to all these years. You internally screamed as you heard muffled yelling from his room and a door slam, your body temperature rose and you suddenly felt a little sick. 

You needed to call Mina. Now. 

================================================

I loved writing this chapter! So i hope you guys love it to!! Let me know by dropping a like pleaseeeeeeeee. Much love!

[orphic-osamu]

Hello can I request “You bake when you're stressed and sometimes you give me cookies, but recently you're giving me whole baskets each day, now I'm not complaining but are you okay?" au w/Akutagawa? Congrats on 800 🎉🎉😊!

title > fresh cookies

genre > fluff

wc > 1.3k

song > out like a light ii

a/n > hello i’m so sorry i took so long. few things about this: imo it’s vv sloppy n frankly i think i shouldn’t have posted this but i didn’t wanna keep this sitting in my inbox for longer. akutagawa is ooc here? bc ngl don’t feel like doing a whole mafioso vibe for him rn, so he’s a soft boy here. i will fix the template of this post tomorrow

— AKUTAGAWA RYUUNOSUKE —

when akutagawa first made cookies, they were quite horrible. some pieces were burnt, some tasted like rocks, and some had hardened into a weird, melted shape. he’s never cooked or baked, let alone make a full batch of cookies. however after meeting you, the cute baker across the street, he figured he’d try it out to impress you. the first try made him scowl for days after gin giggled and told him that they were barely edible.

the second time akutagawa made cookies, gin had invited you over without him knowing. you caught him in the midst of trying the treat fresh from the oven. his face twisted in disgust and he rushed to spit out the remnants of the cookie. he didn’t even see you reaching to grab one off the tray. when he realized, it was too late. grimace was written all over your face as an awkward hello slipped out of your mouth. akutagawa flushed red. how was he supposed to impress you now?

“i don’t think you put sugar, akutagawa-san.”

from across the room, gin laughed at your comment. “he’s been trying to bake cookies over and over again, he just can’t get it right.”

akutagawa wished that the ground would open up and swallow him whole right then and there. he was already so embarrassed and gin just loved to make it worse. he expected you to laugh at him, call him stupid for not being able to make such a simple delicacy.

“would you like me to teach you?”

there was visible surprise struck across his face at your suggestion. his fingers pulled on the edge of his sleeve as he fiddled with it back and forth.

“o-okay,” he stammered.

the third time akutagawa tried to bake cookies was the morning after his embarrassing encounter with you. he stood anxiously by the kitchen counter, his fingers dancing around to ease his distress.

“where’s your apron?” you asked, reaching into your bag to wear your own.

“apron..?”

akutagawa couldn’t bring himself to say he didn’t have one. you smiled knowingly at him, pulling out an extra you had. “it’s not like you have to wear one, but it puts you in the spirit, y’know?”

he wasn’t sure if he agreed. especially when the one you gave him was frilly, streaked with red and white flowers. nonetheless, he wore it. perhaps the apron was the secret to making a successful batch of cookies.

“do i look silly?” he asked, seeing your grin turn teasing more than assuring.

“mm, a little, but you still look good.”

his body flared red. admittedly, it was flustering, but if it meant seeing you smile, he supposed it was worth the trouble.

you hovered over his shoulder throughout the entire baking process, helping out here and there (like saving him from switching up the salt and sugar). until finally, all that was left was to leave them in the oven to bake.

“so, why’d you suddenly go on a cookie craze?” you leaned against the counter, trying to rest your body whilst waiting for the timer to go off. the boy fussed around with the straps of the apron, itching to take it off.

“uh, it just seems like a fun thing to do.” it wasn’t entirely true, but it’s not like he could openly say he wanted to make you a batch and pose as an expert baker to possibly strike up a conversation with you. though after you taught him, he decided that baking was enjoyable, and was definitely something he’d do again.

after that, you two settled into comfortable conversation. drowning in laughter and stories to the point where you hardly heard the timer going off. the cookies looked decent and akutagawa could only hope they tasted decent as he watched you take a bite. your eyes lit up in excitement, taking more and more bites off the cookie.

“is it good?”

you nodded, pushing him to try it too.

the next time akutagawa baked, he did it to take his mind off work. his blood was boiling and taking it out with the use of violence didn’t seem to help. his movements were harsh and rushed as he mixed the ingredients. his mind was clouded with red and he barely stopped himself from pouring an entire bowl of salt into the mix. once he caught himself, he sighed and pushed everything aside.

his eyes shut as he took deep breaths to calm himself. he already learned how to make this exact same recipe from you, he didn’t want to mess up again. his mind drifted of into thoughts of you. the way you teased him by making him wear such a girly apron, to the soft tone in your voice as you reminded him to put sugar instead of salt.

feeling the haze clear up, he picked up the spatula and resumed, movements more relaxed and calm.

the fourth, fifth, sixth time akutagawa baked, was for the same reason as the last. with every time going almost exactly the same. rage making his hands tremble until he thinks about the sweetness in your aura when you helped him. and for every time, you and gin were the only people he gave the cookies too. with every batch came a conversation with you. and soon you learned the pattern.

whenever he’d have a rough day, he’d come and give you a freshly baked batch of cookies. pretty soon he begun baking other sweets. cakes, donuts and the list goes on. and you were there to try everything, to provide him with constructive criticism.

you didn’t mind at all. if this was his way of relieving stress, then so be it. not only did you get treats from it, but you also got the baker behind them to come and talk to you. it’d happen at least once a week, usually on a sunday when he’s finished for the week. thus, you’ve learned to keep your sundays free just for when he comes by.

however one day, he baked a cake for you. and it wouldn’t be a problem if the following six days he didn’t come to give all sorts of things. he hardly noticed how drained he looked, and he would’ve gone baking for weeks straight if you didn’t ask him about it.

“are you alright? i know you use baking to cope, but you’ve been giving me so much every single day.”

“i am?”

the frown on your face tugged on his heart. you invited him in to sit down and relax for a bit, to talk about anything that was bothering him. but when he sat down, he couldn’t find the words. having you near him made everything dissipate into thin air, and suddenly nothing was wrong in the world.

“so? what’s wrong?”

he shrugged with a sheepish smile, “don’t quite remember.”

you sighed and shook your head. “but it helps when you bake, right?”

he nodded before averting his gaze from yours. all it once it hit him how close you were, and how he was sitting on your couch, in your cozy little place. his cheeks were painted red in embarrassment, causing him to shuffle away from you.

“and you don’t wanna talk about anything? you just wanna bake?”

he nodded again. another sigh left your lips. you tugged him off the couch and into the kitchen.

“well then, what are you waiting for? let’s bake. hmm, i saw this recipe and i wanted to try it out...” your words trailed off as he looked at you admiringly.

god forbid he say anything now. but maybe one day he’ll tell you. he’ll tell you about how baking isn’t so much of a reliever, and instead it’s the memory of you baking with him that came with it. maybe one day he’ll tell you that it wasn’t about making cookies, but rather seeing you get excited after he gives you a batch. that it wasn’t about learning new things, and more about the time he got to spend with you.

[riotwritesthings]

Melt into Me (Your Words Are My Own)

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

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

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

-

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

It’s just one more tiny little secret.

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 -

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

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

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

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

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

It’s fine.

-

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

But whatever. Tony manages.

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

And yeah, Tony kind of is.

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

It kind of spirals out of control from there.

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

So he does.

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

[uweiy]

Can you do Xingchen with Sentence 38?

Soooo I’m assuming you meant Xicheng ?? If you meant Xiao Xingchen just tell me I’ll try to think of smth with him !

From this prompt list

38 - “You just feel really good. Soft and warm…”

His head is throbbing.

Lan Xichen squints his eyes, tring to bring his blurry vision back in focus.

He doesn’t know where he– wait. This luminous square, no, window, surrounded by curtains, seems familiar. He is lying on a red sofa covered by a blanket.A basin and a glass of water are waiting on the table next to him.

This is his home.

He has no idea how he got back. And he has no clothes on, save for a pair of briefs.

What in the world happened last night ?

“Did you just swear ?”

Lan Xichen’s muddled mind stutters.

1. He had no idea he had spoken out loud.

2. Jiang Cheng is here. Why is Jiang Cheng here, shirtless and freshly showered, holding a cup of tea. The hot water must’ve brought out the veins running along his forerarms, and his hair is mussed and Lan Xichen is dying.

He hasn’t gotten his composure and his manners back yet and looking like this is just unfair.

Jiang Chengs’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts, as if reading his mind.

“There is a basin next to your sofa because you kept throwing up. You’re on your sofa because at least I could watch stuff while I kept an eye on you.

“As for why I’m here and what happened last night well…” Jiang Cheng trails off.

Lan Xichen swallows.

Jiang Cheng continues “… Are you sure you want to know ?”

Lan Xichen nods.

Jiang Cheng sighs and pulls out his phone. “I did warn you.”

The video is low quality but Lan Xichen can recognize the people on it.

“my head is so heavyy …

He sees himself giggle.

“If it’s so heavy, why don’t you let someone else carry it ?” The voice holding the phone says.

Probably Wei Wuxian.

“Ooh good idea !”

And Lan Xichen in the video drops down on the floor.

Present Lan Xichen is mortified. But the video goes on and he hears himself speak.

“Ooh Jiang Cheng … You just feel really good… Soft and warmmmm.”

The camera turns to Jiang Cheng who is looking exasperated. “That. Lan Xichen, is Fairy.”

“You’re the fairy ! “Lan Xichen giggles

“Hey wanna know a secret ? I really like– ”

“Okay that’s it. stop filming you arse”. Jiang Cheng says to the camera.“

The video ends.

Jiang Cheng puts his phone back in his pocket.

"Wei Wuxian has some more, but ‘blackmailing a representative of another faculty is a once-in-a lifetime opportunity hahahaha’ he said.”

“I really can’t hold alcohol” Lan Xichen says in a small voice. “and your brother is… a…a scoundrel.”

Jiang Cheng sighs. “That’s putting it lightly. And yeah, you were pretty hammered.

"After that I decided you had had enough to drink, so I took you home. Also you were insisting that I carry you so…

"Then on the way to my car, you tried to dance with a street pole, and when it didn’t answer you said ‘sorry for bothering you sir’ and almost started crying.”

“Oh my” Lan Xichen says. He had thought this couldn’t get any worse.

“And THEN when we got here, you threw up. On my shirt.” Jiang Cheng sounds positively pissed “ So yes, I used your shower.”

Then the murderous glance disappears and Jiang Cheng finishes matter of factly

“So I took off your clothes so you wouldn’t puke all over them, put you on the sofa, basin, glass of water, and voilà.”

Lan Xichen wishes the floor would swallow him up whole. But he has to ask

“So we didn't–”

“No you idiot, have you seen the state you were in ? Of course we didn’t DO anything.”

“Did I… Did I say something ?” Lan Xichen presses on.

Jiang Wanyin looks at him flatly. “As you just saw, you said a lot of things. What else would you have said ?”

Well that’s a relief.

Lan Xichen slumps back against his pillow. “Nevermind. Thank you for bringing me home.”

Jiang Cheng nods"You should be thankful we had so many gatherings for the student committee I won’t ever be able to forget where you live.

“Since you seem alright now I’ll get going. I have a T-shirt to wash.” He adds.

“Take one of mine.” Lan Xichen says before he can think, because he’s absolutely positive the sight of Jiang Cheng in one of his shirts would kill him. “It’s the least I can do to repay you.”

Jiang Cheng considers it.

“Okay.”

___

Wei Wuxian calls out to him when they run into each other at University.

“Heyy, class president, did you and my dear little brother sort things out ?”

Lan Xichen’s brows furrow in confusion. “I thanked him for bringing me home.”

“So he didn’t tell you ? You said some pretty … Meaningful things.”

Lan Xichen’s blood runs cold.

Wei Wuxian sighs “He’s going to murder me.”

“Oh well.” Wei Wuxian shrugs, resigned “Jiang Cheng said you told him you liked him and tried to kiss him like, multiple times.”

“Oh.” Lan Xichen manages to articulate, despite the knot in his throat.

“But it seems like he hasn’t gotten the memo.” Wei Wuxian adds. His gaze bores into Lan Xichen’s.

“So man up and tell him properly, Lan Xichen.”

___

“Here’s your Tee.��� Jiang Cheng says as he stands by Lan Xichen’s doorframe. “Try to be easier to find at Uni, I had to drive all the way over here. ”

“I’ll… Try ?” Lan Xichen answers. Not very eloquent, but the visit caught him by surprise.

“Goodnight then.” Jiang Cheng says as he turns on his heels.

“Wait !” Lan Xichen just has the time to grab Jiang Cheng’s wrist.

“I’m sorry for… what I said the other night. When I was… When I was drunk.”

Jiang Cheng’s eyes widen and he clenches his fist “That little– I am going to have a word with him.”

Then Jiang Cheng pinches his eyebrows. “Look, I know you were drunk, and I was there and It was convenient. I won’t hold it against you. Good Night.”

“Please wait. Jiang Wanyin.”

That Jiang Cheng could believe Lan Xichen would have said that to just anyone, that he would use Jiang Cheng in such a way makes Lan Xichen’s stomach churn with revulsion.

He can’t let Jiang Cheng believe this one second longer. Even if it involves losing him.

“I meant it when I told you I liked you.”

Jiang Cheng instantly grabs Lan Xichen by the collar. “Don’t. fuck with me.” He snarls. But his voice is strangled.

“I’m not.”

“You said you’re fucking sorry. What are you sorry for if not for telling me… that, and not meaning it.”

This is horribly horribly wrong, Lan Xichen thinks. How can Jiang Cheng be so unaware of his own worth he can’t believe someone genuinely likes him.

Lan Xichen gently wraps his hand over Jiang Chengs’s clenched fist.

“I was sorry for possibly making you uncomfortable. I was sorry that I told you this way. And now I’m sorry this is what you were thinking all along. ”

Jiang Cheng shook his head. “You were drunk. There were a lot of people you could have–”

“And yet I didn’t tell any of them, I told you.” Lan Xichen insists. “Alcohol doesn’t make me … horny, it makes me honest.”

Jiang Cheng exhales sharply.

Lan Xichen needs him to understand. Needs with every fiber of his being. So he continues.

“There is no one else I wish to eat with at lunch. There is no one else with whom I turn meetings into movie nights. There is no one else I would tell ”I like you“ to. ”

Jiang Cheng’s fist finally loosens.

“You… Like me ?” He says, disbelieving.

“Yes.” Lan Xichen repeats.

“You –!” there was the fist again and Jiang Cheng sounds furious. He is going to walk away, Lan Xichen thinks. Walk away and never come back.

Instead, Jiang Cheng’s head hits Lan Xichen’s chest and he murmurs

“Do you know how hard I… I tried to stay away because I thought… ” His voice breaks “I thought I couldn’t have you.”

Oh, Lan Xichen thinks. Oh.

He doesn’t know what to say, but he has one last thing to confess.

“I was avoiding you at University because I would have combusted on the spot, had I seen you in my shirt.”

Jiang Cheng lets out something like a a half-laugh, half-sob.

Lan Xichen tilts Jiang Cheng’s head up. “I’m going to kiss you now, If that’s alright with you.”

Jiang Cheng’s voice is thick when he answers

“Okay.”

Lan Xichen inches closer and, very softly presses his lips to Jiang Cheng’s. His hand slides to the back of Jiang Cheng’s neck as he increases the pressure, capturing Jiang Cheng’s top lip.

A needy moan escapes Jiang Cheng’s lips and Lan Xichen takes advantage of the slight opening of his mouth to deepen the kiss.

When they break apart, they stare at each other, breathless.

“Would you mind pursuing this inside, I have a couch much more comfortable than my front door.” Lan Xichen suggests.

“wouldn’t you know.” Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. “But sure.”

___

“So,” Lan Xichen starts, as they are comfortably sprawled against each other on the couch “you’re still as ’,soft and warm’ as I recall– ”

Jiang Cheng elbows him “please do not confuse me with a fucking dog.”

Then he gets up and Lan Xichen misses the contact immensely.

Jiang Cheng comes out of the shower wearing a pair of briefs and Lan Xichen’s sweater and Lan Xichen’s heart just jumps our of his chest.

This is definitely vengeance. He’s not that pained.

A.N : I just watched Fullmetal Alchemist so my characterisation is all over the place. Ed kept popping in my head at random moments but ehh

I don’t know how universities work so hope the depiction of the student body elements isn’t too out of place hahaha

[spiderman-homecomeme]

Day One - Hidden Connections

AN: You guys!!! Spideychelle week is finally here!! Ahhhh I’m so excited to see what everyone else as written and to share my stuff! Here is my contribution to day one! It’s a little short and quick, and there’s a fair amount of non-romantic stuff in it, but I just thought this idea was really funny and had to write it down! A huge thank you to @spideychelleweek for putting this together! 

Prompt: Secret Relationship AU/College AU

Pls enjoy some 2.4k of humor, fluff, and a dash of angst.

.

.

“To whom it may concern,”

“Dear Sir or Madam,”

“Dear Mr. Bugle,”

“Hello,

I hope your day is going well.

My name is Peter Parker, and I happened to film the altercation between the criminal known as Rhino and the heroes Luke Cage and Spider-Man on the intersection of 42nd Street and 11th Avenue. I have some screencaps of it attached, if you are interested in the video for a blog post, let me know. I am willing to sell said footage for a discounted quick-sale price.

Sincerely,

Yours Truly,

Love,

Thanks,

Peter Parker

--

Releasing a puff of air through his lips, Peter hits send.

The clickable ad he’d seen while scrolling through Facebook said: SEND VIDEOS OF SPIDER-MAN. $1 PER SECOND*. It was only after he’d clicked did he notice the fine print: Spider-Man must be within the frame for the whole second, otherwise the dollar is void.

But that doesn’t matter. Peter has a full five minutes that Dronie had so graciously recorded for him of Luke Cage and him kicking Rhino’s ass.

And he really needs the money.

MJ’s birthday is four days away, a day which also coincides with his rent being due, so in other words: he’s essentially broke. While he does have money in his bank account, he only has enough for one of those things, not both, and he can’t really afford to be evicted at this point. He knows MJ won’t leave him if he doesn’t get her anything…

But she at least deserves something nice.

This video should net him roughly $300; he can take her out to a nice dinner, maybe buy her something actually decent for a change. Not another scarf.

And who knows? She might not even want to go out to a fancy restaurant, seeing as she’s turned down every offer he’s given to take her out in the six months they’ve been dating. Every date night, it’s either been take-out, a quick slice, or some kind of fast food. Not that he’s complaining about hanging out with his girlfriend; every minute spent with her was more than enough. And he’d be a liar if he said it wasn’t a little easier on the wallet.

But there was still that seed of doubt. Why did she never want to leave Queens? Why was it always such a rush to get back home? Why hadn’t she introduced him to her parents? The intrusive, relentless thought that her being embarrassed of him might have been a factor whispered darkly in the back of his mind. He knows he can be immature at times, both with his sense of humor and overall behavior, so, albeit shamefully, he could understand where she was coming from.

Maybe a nice present accompanied by a fancy dinner could help to prove that he can act like a grown-up.

Maybe.

--

The next morning, while happily munching on a bowl of Hulk O’s, he’s genuinely surprised to see a reply in his notification bar from none other than J. Jonah Jameson himself.

“I want to see that video. Will talk about your payment after I have it analyzed by my team.

Your appointment is today at 9am. Don't be late.

J.J. Jameson

Editor for the Daily Bugle Heralding Your Daily News │Tel [212] 555-7109│Fax [877] 555-0971

Sent from my iPhone.”

Peter only allows himself a moment to be put off by the the informality of Jameson’s response, brows crinkled as he turns to check the time.

8:30 AM.

He drops his spoon into the bowl, milk and soggy cereal splashing.

Well, shit.

He stuffs whatever clothes he can find into a backpack before roughly yanking his suit on; he flings himself out of his fifth story window, cereal bowl abandoned on the kitchen counter. Phone in hand, following along on Google Maps, he wonders how super heroes were able to find their way around big cities before GPS.

The next thirty minutes fly by in a blur, and Peter honestly doesn’t know how he’s able to put enough brain cells together to find a place to change into his civilian “interview” clothes. It’s a wonder he made it there in one piece.

The lobby doesn’t have any kind of directory, or any indication of where J. Jonah Jameson is supposed to be. In fact, Peter isn’t even sure where he’s supposed to meet the guy, unable to recall if there’d been anything like that in the email.

He gingerly approaches the front desk, ducking his head down slightly as he offers a smile to the receptionist. “Uhm, hello! I’m here to see Mr. Jameson?”

The woman gives him the the quick once over, visibly unimpressed. “You got a delivery, kid?”

“Uh, n-no.” Peter shifts awkwardly, smile fading. “He, uh, he sent me an email. To meet him at nine? Today? Right… Right now?”

“Hold on,” she says, her voice monotone, turning to the phone on the desk and dialing a four digit number with freshly manicured nails.

Peter starts to say, “Thanks,” but is cut off by the woman holding a finger up.

“Hey Ted, I’ve got a kid down here. Says he’s supposed to meet with Jameson. Do you know anything about it?”

She listens for a moment, nodding. “Okay, thanks.”

Click.

“Okay, kid, go over to that elevator. 17th floor. Someone will meet you.”

Peter smiles again, throwing a quick, but polite, “Thank you,” over his shoulder as he moves.

He’s met by who he assumes to be Ted, a slight middle-aged man with tired eyes. “Peter Parker?” He asks.

Peter nods.

“Alright, follow me.”

Peter isn’t taken directly to the office at first, only being seated in the waiting area just outside.

For thirty minutes.

9 AM, he said. Don’t be late, he said.

The door to the office is ajar, the sound of Jameson yelling at and berating some poor unfortunate soul over the phone almost as loud as the clacking of Ted’s typing on his keyboard.

“I don’t care what that weasel said, I want it done right this time! And if you had done what I’d told you to, we wouldn’t be having this conversation!” There’s a pause as Jameson presumably listens to the person on the other line begging for mercy. “Fine. Go with the lilac. It’ll clash with your comforter, you’ll see. Don’t come crying to me when you have to buy a whole new bed set.”

Another beat of just Ted’s typing passes.

“Okay. Love you, Mom. Buh-bye.” Jameson hangs up, before yelling out the door. “HOFFMAN!”

“Yes, sir?” Ted answers quickly.

“MY 9:00 IS LATE. IT’S 9:30!”

“No, sir, he’s here sir. He’s been here since 9.”

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME? I COULD’VE HAVE ENDED THIS CONVERSATION SOONER. MAKE A NOTE OF THAT, HOFFMAN.”

“Yes, sir. Will do, sir.”

“NEXT TIME, INTERRUPT MY PHONE CALL. STICK YOUR HEAD IN HERE. GIVE ME A SIGNAL.” He sighs. “Okay. Send him in.”

Ted looks over. “You can go on in. Good luck.”

Peter falters for a moment, wondering if he’s really willing to go through with this.

No. He is. MJ was more than worth it.

He says a quick, “Thank you,” before walking in to the lion’s den.

Jameson sits at his desk, looking up briefly, chewing on an unlit cigar. “Well, quit your dawdling, get in here.”

Peter picks up the pace.

The man glares at him for an uncomfortable few moments, sizing him up, before extending his hand. “You got the video?” He asks, skipping introductions entirely.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah.” Peter swallows, handing him the drive.

Jameson hums. “I was expecting someone… More… professional.”

It’s then that Peter realizes he’d left his apartment without even combing his hair or brushing his teeth. He hadn’t even bothered put on deodorant or to change out of his The Mighty Thorgi t-shirt. He’s wearing a pair of the day before yesterday’s and yesterday’s jeans, and to make matters worse, he’s wearing two different shoes; one grey converse and one blue.

“You homeless or something? Because there’s a soup kitchen around here.” Jameson spends the next few moments trying to plug in the USB to his computer, flipping it over and over. “Damn thing. HOFFMAN!”

Ted practically sprints in. “Yes, sir?”

Peter tries to speak. “I can do it if you—”

“—Don’t patronize me, kid,” Jameson snaps. “Hoffman. Plug this in.”

Peter watches in silence as Jameson’s expression never changes as the video plays out on his computer. Peter knows what’s on the video, he knows it by heart, in fact. He fought in it. When the video ends, Jameson leans back, his blank expression now seems thoughtful.

“I’m gonna give it to you straight kid,” He says. “It’s a good video. Now I can send this down to my lab nerds. They can calculate the exact amount of time that Spider-Man’s in a full frame. I’m guessing it’s gonna be around $120 to $150. But, that’s if we give you credit, of course. If you wanna sign the rights of this video over to us, we’re looking at, say, $350 upfront. You won’t be credited, though.”

To Peter, that actually sounds pretty good; he gets a good amount of money, more than he thought, and his name won’t be tied to his alter-ego. It’s a win-win. “Oh, yeah! That sounds great!”

Jameson’s smile is shark-like. “Great. HOFFMAN! GET ME CONTRACT A27!”

“Do you mean A63, sir?” Ted asks from the door, contract already in hand, placing it on the desk.

“Yes, yes of course. A63.” Jameson shakes his head. “Can’t get decent help around here,” he mutters.

Peter signs where Ted indicates. Jameson signs the last page and hands back the contract.

“I’ll be back with your copy,” Hoffman says as he exits the room.

Jameson then opens his drawer, retrieving a thick check book and grabbing a pen. “Parker Peterson, right?”

“No, no. Just… Peter… Parker.”

As Jameson writes the check, Peter takes the time to take in the office around him, his eyes drawn immediately to the portrait on the desk. His stomach drops as he realizes who it is.

No doubt about it.

That’s a picture of his girlfriend.

Why is there a picture of MJ… on Jameson’s desk?

“Pretty, isn’t she?”

Jameson’s voice startles Peter, and he looks over, the older man glaring right into him. “Huh?” Peter asks.

“She’s pretty, right? It’s okay. You can say she’s pretty. Beautiful even.”

Peter nods, voice soft. “Yeah. Really beautiful.” And he means it, more than anything, nervous as he is; MJ is the most beautiful person he’s ever known.

With the flick of his wrist, Jameson deliberately flips the portrait away from Peter.

In the amount of time Peter’s been in the office, Jameson has had two volumes: Loud and VERY LOUD. There seems to be a third setting, however. In a hushed, threatening tone, Jameson seethes. “Listen here, kid. I don’t need no smelly, grubby, unemployed jackass drooling all over my daughter.”

Wait, what?!

Fuck.

“I don’t know what thoughts were going through your sick little mind, but that’s my little girl, and I will be damned if she fuels your pervy little spank bank! Do I make myself clear?”

Oh, if only he knew...

Even though Peter could easily take down the older man, he still finds himself shrinking back slightly.

He nods profusely. “Yes, sir, of course sir.”

“Good.” Jameson roughly shoves the check at Peter. “Now get the hell out of my office.”

Peter doesn’t need to be told twice as he dashes through the door, nearly running past Hoffman who expertly passes him the contract copy.

“Have a nice day!” Hoffman calls as Peter disappears down the hallway.

--

Omw, the text read from MJ.

Luckily, Peter had already planned for arrival; the apartment’s clean, the floors vacuumed, Febreez has been sprayed. Conditions were perfect. All he needed to do now was sit and wait, mindlessly tapping his fingers against his thigh, the events from earlier replaying in his head on some kind of torturous loop.

The sound of the key turning the lock fifteen minutes later had his pulse quickening. She was here. “I brought Chinese!” She called as she set the bags down on the dining room table.

Peter cuts right to the chase, barely lasting a second. “So. I met your dad today.”

MJ nearly drops the lo mein, her eyes blown wide. “Oh my God.”

Peter shrugs.

“I am so. So. Sorry.”

He tilts his head a fraction, brows wrinkling in confusion. “Why?”

“I don’t know how he find out,” She says, almost to herself. “I tried to keep this— us— hidden from him. He chases away any guy who comes close to me; friend, colleague… One time a teacher said I was a remarkable student and he— It doesn’t matter. I’ve tried explaining this hetero-normative, misogynistic bullshit to him, but it just goes right over his head. He’s always had this… toxic paternity complex. Like, I know that he loves me, I guess, but that’s no excuse.” She folds her arms across her chest, glancing away, her eyes welling in frustration. “And I just didn’t want him to scare you away.”

Peter puts his hands on her arms. “Woahwoahwoahwoah. Hey. It’s okay.” She looks up at him. “He doesn’t know about us. I just went to the Bugle today to sell a video of Spider-Man… and I saw your picture on his desk.”

Relief washes over her, and she puts a hand on her chest. “Oh, thank God.”

“Nothing to worry about.” Peter grins, before growing confused again, expression crinkling. “I thought your last name was Jones?”

“It is.”

“Then…?”

“So’s my Mom’s,” she elaborates. “They just never got married. Or stayed together, really.”

“Ah, gotcha,” Peter nods.

A comfortable silence fills the room, the food on the table surely getting colder by the minute. But MJ finds that her curiosity is growing too strong. She has to know.

“What did he say?”

Peter snorts, face scrunching as he scratches the back of his neck. “A lot. He totally freaked out when I said you were pretty.”

“He yelled at you for saying I was pretty?”

“Well… It wasn’t really yelling. Just angry whispering. And...” Peter turns bashful. “I said you were beautiful.”

A small smile cracks MJ’s expression, and she looks back down at their now intertwined hands. “Gross.”

“I know.” He cups her cheek, thumb caressing the soft skin there as he stares deeply into her eyes. He leans in, placing a loving, lingering kiss against her lips. As he pulls away, they both sigh. “Just so you know…” He starts, voice barely above a whisper.

Her eyes gaze adoringly into his; she’s not even trying to hide how mushy she feels at this moment.

“You’re always the star of my spank bank.”

“Wait, What?”

[nogoodmox]

since it’s late n u guys have been so encouraging

i wanna preface this by saying....im not a Writer and this is pretty much the first wrestling-related thing i’ve ever written. also this was written at 3 am yesterday so pls keep that in mind ALSO it’s not very. romantic bc 1.) im not good with that stuff and 2.) it’s kinda covering the early stages of their relationship so they’re barely even friends yet! (this takes place right before war games!)

that being said thanks for being so nice abt it guys ur all the sweetest and i love u and i’m sorry this isn’t Better but constructive criticism would be appreciated! mwah!

Pete tapped his fist against his jaw in a needless effort to hype himself up.

The guaranteed brutality of his upcoming match didn’t faze him—brutality was his specialty, after all— but despite that, he couldn’t shake off an uncomfortable feeling.

Maybe it was the thought of having to rely on others for his victory, or maybe it was the thought of them relying on him. Neither were things that he was exactly used to.

He wondered, when the time came, if he would put himself in harm’s way for the sake of the others.

Pete thought of the last time he had relied on someone. It was ironic in a way, how the same person he had tentatively began to trust would be one of his opponents tonight.

He had never really thought of Roderick as a friend, just a sort of unavoidable ally. His eagerness had been irritating as was his general disposition, but Pete had chosen to put his trust in him. A choice he’d come to regret.

He liked to believe that the betrayal had made him all the more dangerous now. Not only could he use his desire for vengeance to his advantage, he’d also be sure not to make a mistake like that again.

Pete had operated just fine on his own for as long as he could remember. There were a select few times where he’d tried opening up, and each time he paid for it. It took a few experiences for the lesson to be drilled into his brain, but at least now there was no way he could forget it.

He should stick with what he knew best, and what he knew best was solitude.

Keep interactions short and bitter. You look out for one person, and that person is yourself. Everyone else is simply an obstacle or dead weight.

It was a philosophy he lived by, and one he truly believed in. There just happened to be times where he’d let it slip and thought maybe, just maybe, someone could be an exception. But they never were.

A steady knock on the locker room door disrupted his thoughts. A faint feeling of pain registered in Pete’s jaw as he realized he’d been tapping his fist against it this whole time. Before he could say anything, the door opened and Ricochet’s head popped in.

“You got a minute?”

Pete didn’t answer, he just raised an eyebrow when he noticed something in Ricochet’s hands. It looked like a tube of toothpaste.

Ricochet followed his gaze and held up the object, wiggling it in his hand. “Oh, this? Yeah, it’s kinda why I’m here, actually.” He walked up to Pete and held it out to him. Pete read the label, which only confused him more.

“White….face paint?”

The other man adjusted his North American Championship on his shoulder. “Yeah. Y’know, war paint for tonight. It was Hanson and Rowe’s idea. They figured we should at least look like a cohesive unit.”

“What’s the point of that?” Pete deadpanned. “Face paint won’t get us a win against Undisputed Era.”

Ricochet looked at a loss for a second, then sighed. “C’mon man. It’s to pump you up, get you excited to kick some ass. Plus it’ll look cool, yeah?”

Pete wasn’t very convinced, but he wasn’t in the mood to argue. He did admittedly like the idea of amping up the intimidation factor, not that he was going to tell Ricochet that. “Fine. Might as well fool people into thinking we’re a real team.”

“S’that supposed to mean? We’re a real team. Cole and his cronies are gonna see just how real we are tonight.” Ricochet declared, giving Pete a few taps on the chest.

Pete stiffened at the contact and glared at the highflier. Ricochet was someone who currently fell under the obstacle category in Pete’s eyes. He hadn’t forgotten the match where both their titles had been on the line. They never received closure, and Pete intended to change that next time they crossed paths in the ring.

He’d prefer for Ricochet to stay an obstacle rather than become dead weight.

“I’ve said it before, you’re just a guy carrying a piece of gold that I want. As for the other two, they’ve already got each other. We may be on the same side, but we’re not a team.”

The grin on Ricochet’s face weakened a bit. “Man do you like, practice this stuff in a mirror before you talk to anyone?” He chuckled at his own joke—was it a joke? The weight of Pete’s words didn’t seem to mean much to him, however, as he quickly bounced back. “Anyway, face paint, yes or no?”

“Sure.” Pete said.

“Great.” Ricochet tossed the tube of paint to Pete. “Doll me up.”

Pete barely caught the tube in time. He whipped his head up to face Ricochet, trying to make sure he had heard him correctly. “What?”

Ricochet had placed his title on the bench next to him and met Pete’s gaze expectantly. “What? I can’t put it on myself. There’s no mirror in here.”

“Then find one.”

“No can do.” He almost looked smug, as if he had planned this. “Bathroom’s closed for repairs, apparently Kyle and Bobby thought it’d be fun to flush Sullivan’s gear down the toilet. He caught ‘em in the act.” Ricochet let out a whistle. “It wasn’t pretty.”

Pete didn’t want to hear any more. For whatever reason, Ricochet was intent on sporting war paint, he might as well indulge him. After tonight, he could set his sights on what really mattered.

“Alright. C’mere.” Pete placed his championship on the bench opposite of Ricochet’s and squeezed some paint onto his fingers.

He lifted his hand only to pause suddenly, leaving it hovering in front of Ricochet’s face. “What’s their paint look like anyways?”

Ricochet thought for a moment. “It’s like…a V shape on each cheek.” He explained, tracing the motion over Pete’s cheeks with his finger. “Simple enough.”

“Right.” Pete grunted, doing everything he could to ignore the way his face had heated up. He pressed his fingers to Ricochet’s face and began painting the design, trying his best to keep his hand steady.

Pete came to a halt when Ricochet started giggling quietly. He gave him a strange look, pulling his hand away.

The other man took a moment to compose himself, then cleared his throat. “Tickles.” Came the simple explanation. Pete rolled his eyes and continued with his work, retracing the lines to smooth out the jagged edges.

He paused again to add more paint to his fingers, avoiding Ricochet’s gaze. Pete could feel the man looking at him and unconsciously tossed his head a bit to let his hair cover his face.

As Pete started on the other cheek, he noticed Ricochet hadn’t stopped staring at him at him, almost amusingly.

“What?” Pete finally asked, with a hint of challenge.

Ricochet seemed unbothered. “You’re just a lot more careful than I thought you’d be” He said, a little quieter than usual. It was unclear if the remark was meant to be teasing. It seemed sincere enough, but even if it was Pete wasn’t sure what the implications were.

Pete said nothing and averted his eyes again, finishing with a final swipe. “There.” He muttered. “All done.”

“Great! I’ll just have to trust that it looks good.” Ricochet reached up to touch his freshly painted face, then decided against it. “Alright, your turn!”

Pete froze, he hadn’t thought that far ahead.

He wasn’t particularly keen on anyone paying close attention to his face.

It was bumpy and weird; he knew this. Acne scars and uneven stubble were just the beginning of it. It was something he’d learned to accept, but he wasn’t exactly dying for others to get a good look at it.

Regardless, he knew Ricochet wouldn’t take no for an answer. If he had, Pete wouldn’t have just spent the past few minutes spreading paint on his face in uncomfortable silence.

Ricochet took the paint tube from Pete’s hands. “You mind uh…” He made a hair flip motion. “Getting that out of the way?”

Pete looked down at his hands, covered in white paint, and decided to go with option two. He swung his head to the side—a little too forcefully—and flipped the blond mess back. He was satisfied for a moment before it came toppling back down in his face.

It was times like this where he seriously reconsidered growing out his hair.

“I gotchu.” Ricochet intervened, looking even more amused than before. He tucked Pete’s hair behind his ear to keep it from coming loose again. “Sure got a lot of hair homeboy.” He commented.

“Guess you can’t relate.” Pete replied bluntly.  

Ricochet laughed out loud at that, almost too eager to make fun of himself. “Guess not.” He emptied what was left of the paint into his hand and got to work. Pete winced at the cold feeling, trying not to pull away. “But you know,” Ricochet continued. “The lack of hair could be the secret to my speed.”

Pete wasn’t fully sure if he was joking. “I reckon that’s why you got pieces missing in your eyebrows too?”

The highflier laughed again, this time not as loud, but a huge smile graced his face. “Man, you’re alright.”

Ricochet spread the paint on Pete’s cheeks with ease, moving just as smoothly as he did in the ring. Pete fought with everything he had to try not to break out into a fit of laughter. Ricochet was right, the feeling made him ticklish. His lip curved upward in a smile that he quickly pushed away.

“All set.” Ricochet finally announced, looking proud of his work. Pete didn’t doubt that the man had probably done a better job than him. “Now we look like a force to be reckoned with.”

Pete held couldn’t help but soften his expression a bit. He felt cool, and far more relaxed than earlier. Once again, he wasn’t going to tell Ricochet that, but he appreciated the feeling. “If painting faces keeps you from screwing up tonight, then so be it.” He replied with a shrug.

Ricochet shook his head, and if Pete didn’t know any better he’d say he was annoyed. “You never quit do you? Y’know we can do this whole rivalry thing without all the little remarks, yeah?”

“Cause make no mistake,” Ricochet’s tone grew serious. “I’m just as focused on that title of yours as you are on mine.”

The sudden change surprised Pete, but it didn’t faze him. After all, this was why he kept up his guard so high. He knew behind every person there was a set of intentions, and each interaction with him was a means of achieving them.

“I’m well aware.” Pete said evenly. “S’why I’m not buying this partner ruse. We’re not friends, and we never will be.”

Ricochet paused for a moment. “Just ‘cause you’re a future opponent, doesn’t mean we can’t be on the same page now. It’s no ruse, I’ve got your back tonight. I mean that.”

“Better to have your own back first.”

Ricochet lifted his hand to rub the back of his neck, looking unsure of where to go from there.

“You’re a tough nut to crack.” He said finally, leaning down to grab his North American championship. When he came back up, he was smiling again. “But I’m willing to prove where my loyalties lie out there. There’s no hiding in the ring.”

Pete eyed him for a moment, then nodded briskly. “That’s one thing we can agree on.”

“I’ve got another. We both wanna beat the hell out of those undisputed assholes, right?” Ricochet offered. “That snake Roddy’s gonna be out there tonight. If you ask me, you should focus on giving him the ass whopping he’s had coming instead of making enemies out of your partners.”

An odd silence followed his words. Pete didn’t know how to respond, and Ricochet’s intense gaze wasn’t making it any easier. In his heart Pete knew he had a point.

He was more than willing to take on all four members of the Undisputed Era himself, but he knew realistically he wouldn’t come out victorious. He needed Ricochet and the War Raiders whether he liked it or not.

Just one night couldn’t be so bad, right? Even if it involved putting his faith in other people. Ricochet had nothing to gain from betraying him. Hanson and Rowe, he wasn’t so sure, but considering how fixated they had been on the Undisputed Era for the past several weeks, it was unlikely.

Ricochet saved Pete from having to muster up an answer by reaching over and picking up his United Kingdom Championship. Pete’s eyes widened and he tensed up, ready to snatch it out of his hands.

There was no need to, however, as Ricochet placed it snugly on Pete’s shoulder.

He gave it a few pats, admiring the intricate design on the belt for several moments.

Ricochet took a few steps back, his own title sitting around his waist. “You look good.” He said finally. “Let’s do work tonight, mate.”

Pete’s partner tossed the now empty paint tube in his hand once, then turned to saunter off.

“Not your mate.” Pete replied in a half-hearted protest. He couldn’t see Ricochet’s face as he left the room, but Pete knew he was smiling.

“By the way, the bathroom’s perfectly fine. Just figured we could use a team bonding exercise.”

[crashdevlin]

Bottle- 15: Sausage With Peppers

Bottle Masterlist

Author’s Note: Originally posted to ao3 (This is an edited and improved version), I work in info from the comics (Like Hawkeye was married to Mockingbird and Red Skull had a disappointing daughter) and I took a few liberties with what the scepter could do (but not really because the Mind Stone was used to create the Twins so what I did is not that far-fetched). This is a lot more angst than I realized when I wrote it, but it’s compelling angst.

Summary: Cassandra Campbell is a Stark Industries lab tech with dubious genetics and a history with the new Director of SHIELD. She’s been working in New York since right before the Chitauri invasion. What does she have to do with Loki, and what will happen when he returns? Starts post TDW and continues to the end of AoU.

Pairing(s): Phil Coulson x OFC (Past), Loki x OFC (Non-con), Clint Barton x OFC, Steve Rogers x OFC

Word Count: 3539

Story Warnings: So many, worst (to me) are bolded. Younger woman/older man relationship,non-con, mutilation, torture, mind control, PTSD, depression, alcoholism, forced abortions, bad things (non-con) in a church, insomnia, memory manipulation, eventual consensual oral sex (female and male receiving),

Chapter Warnings: none

Cassie pulled the van into the parking lot of the Walmart and started at the building for a minute. "How is your first Avengers mission treating you, Joanna?" Loki's voice came from the passenger seat.

"You're not really there," she whispered, closing her eyes. She couldn't look at him, even a projection of him. After what she saw in Africa, she couldn't deal with that.

"True, but I am truly speaking to you. So easy to find when you open up your mind to me."

"I didn't do that. The witch did."

"Witch? I'll have to thank her, you've been practically begging to see me for hours."

Cassie shook her head. "No. This is not... I didn't call to you."

Loki laughed, a cruel sound that gripped her spine. "Joanna... it's perfectly understandable to miss me. With me, there is no doubt, just complete domination. You don't have to worry about who knows you're laying with whom. You don't have to worry about Stark's metal contraptions killing you. You just have to worry about me. And I was gentle last time."

"In Austria? Disguised as the priest who kept me from killing myself?"

"I wanted to see the fire in you! That place dulled you."

"That was the point! I didn't want to think, I didn't want to shine, I didn't want to blaze. I just wanted to be left alone to be. Just be. Exist without anyone paying any attention to me and somehow you and Clint both found me."

"You were suffocating in Austria. You were suffocating as Cassandra. You are still barely pulling air into your lungs. You long for the freedom Joanna thrives upon."

She looked to her right, finally allowing herself to look at him. His eyes looked green in this light. "Look, I'm not going to lie... it'd be useless to try that on you. I had fun with you. You let out a part of me that had been dying to breathe since SHIELD took me, and yes, consensual sex with a God is nothing to shake a stick at, but... I don't miss you. I don't want you. I don't even want to be around you. You killed my daughter."

"And gave you a son." He smiled softly and shook his head at her. "Do you know how I know you do want me around, free to see you as I please? You haven't told Thor what I did to Odin."

As the projection disappeared, Cassie looked at the instrument panel on the dash. Confusion washed over her. She'd found it amusing that the Allfather had been tricked by Loki and that Heimdall, who sees pretty much everything, hadn't seen it. She knew that she'd been too desperate to leave Playground when she woke up, but why hadn't she said anything since she'd been back? She hadn't forgotten: she just hadn't mentioned it. "Just means I'm nuts, not that I want you to drop in unannounced," she muttered, getting out of the van and walking toward the store.

"Talking to yourself already, Campbell? That's a sign of poor fortitude," a familiar voice said as she crossed the double doors.

She turned to the vending area and blanched at the sight of Nick Fury, dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt and wearing dark sunglasses, drinking a Coke. "Director Fury."

"You aren't SHIELD and I ain't in charge anymore," he said, stepping toward her.

"I-I know, sir. I, uh, just thought... After the way I spoke to you last time... respect is due."

"You didn't say anything that wasn't true, Cassie. I am old and I have bad depth perception."

She couldn't help the smile that crossed her face at the use of her chosen name. "But you have so many years of spycraft under your belt."

"And you can carry Thor around as dead weight. Girl, you woulda kicked my ass."

Cassie smiled wider. "So, what are you doing here?"

"I figured Barton would bring you to the farmstead. Safe place, off the grid. I showed up right as you were pulling onto the main road, followed you. I came in here to get a drink while you argued with yourself in the van." Cassie looked down. "I know the Maximoff girl got you, made you see things. Loki?"

Tears came to her eyes as she just nodded, dumbly. Fury put his hand on her shoulder and waited for her to look at him. When she did, he smiled. "You're the only one who got hit by that chick and wasn't completely down for the count. Your teammates, who include the strongest woman I've ever met and a Viking God, had to extracted by you."

"Guess I have better fortitude than you think."

"Definitely better than you think. You know... Maria Hill sends me reports."

"About me?"

Fury nodded. "Among other things. She said you're putting a lot of effort in. You spend most of your free time training. Says you're ‘almost obsessional’ about being an asset."

"Just don't wanna get anyone killed because I can't handle myself in a combat situation. Fat lot of good I did against Ultron. Got shot in the back by one of Tony's legionnaires before I could touch him. Feel kinda useless."

"Useless?"

"What do I add? I mean, the Avengers already have a revved-up super soldier and an acrobatic weapons expert. I'm like a shitty knock-off version of both of them. I don't have anything..."

"You know, doubt is a perfectly normal, healthy thing, that you need to get the hell over, right now. This is not the time for it. Even if you were a shitty knock-off, you could put down some robots. You are more in control of yourself than some of the strongest-willed motherfuckers I have ever met, so pull your head up and move past whatever that witch made you see."

Cassie chuckled and turned, grabbing a hand basket as she headed further into store. "Wow."

"What?" Fury asked, keeping pace with her.

"No, it's just... I finally understand why you were in charge for so long."

"Why's that?"

"There is something oddly inspiring about a one-eyed man yelling at you to get your shit together." She stopped in front of the sausages and stared at them. "Guess I couldn't expect more than Johnsonville at a Wal-mart. Beer brats, I guess. And beer." She dropped three packs of sausages into the basket and walked toward the beer aisle. "So, how's Phil doing?"

"Don't think Barton would be very happy about you asking after your ex, do you?"

"You're kidding me." Cassie turned to him. "Hill knows about me and Clint?"

"Did you forget that you're working with spies? That you're sleeping with one? You remember what that entails."

"Oh, come on, Nick. It was totally different with Phil. We weren't trying to keep any secrets. It was the most honest relationship Phil had ever been in. He didn't have to hide anything from me. I mean, he did... some." She shook her head and grabbed a box of Guinness. "Clint and I just want something that's ours, you know? We don't want everyone talking and speculating and... being jealous."

"Jealous? You're talking about Steve?"

"I'm talking about Steve," she confirmed. "And Natalia and Phil. Also, there's a deep-seated fear that Mockingbird is still in love with him and she's gonna destroy me over this."

"Mockingbird? Natalia? You haven't just been studying your Ops manual, have you?"

"I started in on those SHIELD files while I was still in Austria. Everything I could learn would better my chances of evasion. Once I got back, it was more 'learn everything I can so that I can survive longer'." She started toward the bakery and stood in front of the racks. "Commercial American bakery's nuzing like Hohenheims bakery. Oh, vell." She grabbed several bags of rolls and headed for the registers.

"Are you coming back to the farm, Nick?"

"Yeah. I'll be right behind you. When you get inside, have the lovely Mrs. Barton send Stark to the barn."

"Yes, sir."

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

As Cassie walked across the grass toward the house, she smiled at Steve and Tony, who were chopping wood in the front. "Glad you're working up an appetite. I'm making lunch."

"Austrian diner food, right? Barton might've mentioned." Tony brought his ax down on one of the logs.

Cassie nodded and jogged inside, dropping the plastic bags on the counter. Clint was beside her almost immediately, he was freshly showered, smelled like a forest. "Hey, you made it back!"

"Today, even. Wanna help me cook?"

"Uncle Clint."

"Yeah, Li?" The little girl waited, a bit impatiently, for Clint to stop looking at Cassie. As soon as his eyes fell on the girl, she started to sign. Cassie watched it in her peripheral vision as she pulled a knife from a knife block and ran soap and water over it. "Yep... I think so... " Clint signed as he spoke his responses to her slightly fumbled sign language. The girl seemed frustrated with a word and resorted to signing each letter.

"Wait, who's Mary?" Cassie asked, slicing through the white onion she picked.

Clint turned to her with an eyebrow raised. "You know Sign?"

"Just the alphabet. There was an accident on 107, so traffic slowed enough for me to pull it up on my phone."

"And you learned ASL alpha in the few minutes you were stuck in traffic?"

"Like it's hard?"

"And now you're quoting Legally Blond at me?"

Cassie grabbed a red pepper and a green one from the fridge. "Never seen it."

He chuckled and turned to the girl. "Lila, we'll continue this conversation later, when there's no one around to eavesdrop."

"I weren't dropping no eaves, Mr. Barton, sir. I was just making lunch," she said, in her best Samwise Gamgee impression. Lila nodded and ran out of the room as Cassie started slicing the peppers. "It's a little early in the relationship for your family to be pushing us down the aisle, don't'cha think?" she asked, quietly.

"Eh, she wants a cousin. Thought you didn't Sign?"

"I caught the double Rs in 'marry', and she pointed at us. Not hard to follow."

"She likes you." Clint grabbed a slice of bell pepper from the cutting board and bit it in half. "And she knows I do, too. She just wants me to be happy, that's all."

"Uh-huh. Hey, Laura," Cassie called out. The brunette woman waddled in, hand secured over her belly. "Nick Fury is in your barn. He requests an audience with Mr. Stark, but Tony isn't one to just do what someone asks. Can you figure out a way to get Tony into the barn, please?"

"Yeah, I think I can do that," she said with a smile.

"Grab the sausages out of the bag for me and grab a pan, cast-iron if you have it, and a broiler pan."

"Broiler pan?"

"Every oven comes with one, Clint. Usually it's a two piece thing, slots in the top to catch drippings in the bottom."

"Oh, that thing. Gotcha," Clint said, digging into a low cabinet by the fridge to pull out a large roasting pan. He put it on the stove before pulling out a cast-iron skillet and handing it to her.

"Nice. Okay. Oil?"

"In the glass squeezy thing, there," Count said, pointing to the counter.

"So articulate, Hawk."

"What can I say?” He shrugged. “Obviously not much."

"Then, why do you talk so much?" Cassie said, clicking the burner on under the skillet.

"Hoping to say something to turn you red again. It's a good look."

"Ja, mein Vater seemed to think so."

"Ich finde dich süß when you mix up your languages. [I think you’re cute when you mix up your languages]” Cassie felt her cheeks heat up. "There's her color," he whispered, leaning into her.

Her eyes flicked towards the living room. "Back off, Hawk. This isn't the time," she said, pouring oil into the skillet. Clint leaned away again, but she could feel his eyes on her. "Put the sausages on the broiler pan. Single layer, like you know what you're doing," she said, grabbing the peppers and onions putting them into the skillet.

Cassie had the oven open, flipping the sausages over when Tony stomped into the house, Steve and Nick following behind. "Are you going to be eating with us, Nick? We've got plenty."

"I've heard good things about your cookin', Miss Campbell. It was one of the things Coulson felt comfortable braggin' on you about."

"I'll take that as a 'yes'," she said, smiling as she closed the oven door.

"So... what's the thinking, Fury?" Banner asked as Lila ran into the dining room to hand Natasha a watercolor picture.

"Ultron took you folks out of play to buy himself time. My contacts all say he's building something. The amount of Vibranium he made off with, I don't think it's just one thing," Nick said, walking around to the sink to pour himself a glass of water.

"What about Ultron himself?" Steve asked, leaning against the wall.

"Ah. He's easy to track, he's everywhere. Guy's multiplying faster than a Catholic rabbit. Still doesn't help us get an angle on any of his plans, though."

"He still going after launch codes?" Tony asked, throwing darts at a board on the wall.

"Yes, he is, but he's not making any headway," Nick answered.

"I cracked the Pentagon's firewall in high school on a dare."

"Yeah, well, I contacted our friends at the NEXUS about that," Nick said, starting to cut the rolls Cassie bought for the sandwiches.

"NEXUS?" Steve and Cassie asked.

"It's the world internet hub in Oslo. Every byte of data flows through there, fastest access on Earth," Banner responded.

"So, what'd they say?" Clint asked, examining the fletching of one the darts.

"He's fixated on the missiles, but the codes are constantly being changed."

"By whom?" Tony asked, as Clint threw his darts at the board. Tony looked at him, exasperated as Clint just shrugged, before pulling all three darts from the bulls-eye.

"Parties unknown."

"Do we have an ally?" Natasha asked.

"Ultron's got an enemy, that's not the same thing. Still, I'd pay folding money to know who it is."

"I might need to visit Oslo, find our 'unknown'," Tony said.

"Well, this is good times, boss, but I was kind of hoping when I saw you, you'd have more than that," Natasha grumbled as Nick finished cutting the bread.

"I do. I have you. Back in the day, I had eyes everywhere, ears everywhere else. You kids had all the tech you could dream up.  Here we all are, back on Earth, with nothing but our wit, and our will to save the world. Ultron says the Avengers are the only thing between him and his mission and whether or not he admits it, his mission is global destruction. All this, laid in a grave. So stand. Outwit the platinum bastard," Nick said, sitting down with his water as Cassie pulled the sausages out.

"Steve doesn't like that kind of talk," Natasha teased.

"You know what, Romanoff?" Steve started, faux threateningly. Natasha just smirked.

"So, what does he want?" Nick asked.

Steve looked around as Clint came to sit at the table. "To become better. Better than us. He keeps building bodies."

"Person bodies," Tony responded. "The human form is inefficient, biologically speaking, we're outmoded. But he keeps coming back to it."

Banner walked forward and examined Lila's picture. Natasha looked between the scientists. "When you two programed him to protect the human race, you amazingly failed."

"They don't need to be protected, they need to evolve. Ultron's going to evolve."

"How?" Nick asked as he took a drink of his water.

"Has anyone been in contact with Helen Cho?"

Cassie placed a platter full of sausage and pepper sandwiches on the table and sat next to Natasha. "So, what? Ultron is going to have Helen Cho make him a... a better body?" Everyone looked around at each other, nervously. "Guess we should eat." She reached forward and grabbed a sandwich, but she suddenly didn't feel very hungry.

Clint stood, grabbing a bottle of Guinness and handing it to her. "Anyone else? Might not have another chance."

"Don't talk like that," Natasha said, but she put her hand out for a beer.

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

Steve walked into the living room as he finished suiting up. "I'll take Natasha and Clint."

"All right. Strictly recon. I'll hit the NEXUS. I'll join you as soon as I can," Tony said, tapping at his wrist.

"If Ultron is really building a body..." Steve started.

"He'll be more powerful than any of us. Maybe all of us. An android designed by a robot."

"You know, I really miss the days when the weirdest thing science ever created was me," Steve mused.

"I'll drop Banner off at the Tower. Do you mind if I borrow Ms. Hill?" Fury asked.

"She's all yours, apparently. What are you gonna do?"

"I don't know. Something dramatic, I hope," Nick said, walking out of the house.

"What about me?" Cassie asked, walking up to Steve and Tony.

"Cass..." Steve started.

"No. Don't even think about leaving me behind. I may be pretty new to this whole 'superhero' thing and I didn't help much against Ultron in New York, but I've got more will, more fortitude than any of you. I pulled myself out of that fugue state..." *Or was the vision simply over* She shook away Loki's voice in her head and kept going. "...and I didn't sulk around about what I saw in that vision. I pulled myself together and then I carried your star-spangled ass off that ship. And then, I went back for Thor and carried his ass out. An action, by the way, that outed me as a superhero to the international news media."

She threw her hands up in exasperation. "Which is great, because Hydra is still looking for their lost legacy and Loki is still looking for his queen, so it's awesome to broadcast my whereabouts. And even with all that, with my worst fears playing in my head on repeat since that witch touched me, I still want to help, because that's what I signed up for. As soon as I decided 'Avenger' would look good on my resume, I signed up to put away my shit and focus on everyone else's. So, tell me, boss, where do you need me?"

Steve looked around, then cleared his throat. "Stark?"

"Ever been to Norway, blondie?" Stark asked.

"No, sir," she answered, standing straight.

"It's good. You'll love it. Might need some muscle, anyway. Can't wear the suit everywhere. Go grab yours," Tony ordered.

Cassie nodded and rushed for the room where she'd changed before heading to the store. Clint followed, closing the door behind him as she pulled her super suit off the floor. "Not the way I pictured the first time you grabbed your clothes off of my floor," he joked.

She turned to him and smiled, slightly. "Be careful. Please. Be careful."

"It's a milk run, babe." Clint stepped forward and pushed her hair out of her face.

"No. My trip to the NEXUS is a milk run. Tony's only taking me because I threw a fit. Ultron might be in Seoul. I mean, he's everywhere. So, he's probably gonna be there... with the Maximoffs. Clint... Wanda, she's..."

"I know, Cassie."

"You don't. I saw-"

"Loki. I know. And you liked it, right? That's why you're all messed up." Cassie blinked back tears. "You remember when we first met? Took you for a drink to celebrate and mourn? I know what you're missing."

"It's not missing the mindlessness, Clint. I mean, that's part of it, but... Joanna, I wanted to... to be with him. I had sex with him. I enjoyed it, being with him."

"That's your greatest fear? That you might've enjoyed sleeping with a demigod?" Clint chuckled. "He's a thousand years old and strong enough to give it to you good. I might've even liked screwing him," he joked.

"Clint... why are you so understanding?" she whispered.

"I've had a long life. Done a lot of bad, had a lot of bad done to me. I focus on intentions, mostly. And your intentions are good, even when you're Joanna. Your intentions as Cassie are... good, right?"

"You're amazing."

"Nah. I've just gotten good at hiding the un-mazing parts of me." Clint brushed his lips against hers. "I'll be safe if you will."

"I promise," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him into a deeper kiss. Her super suit rubbed against his cheek as their tongues pushed against each other.

"Where's my lab tech?!" Tony called up the stairs.

Cassie pulled away, balling her clothes up in her hands. "Hold your water, Stark, I'm comin'." She opened the door and bounded down the stairs, three at a time.

"You had plenty of time for that while the rest of us were showering. You chose to shop," Tony said.

"Shut up," she groaned. *Everybody knows.*

"Come on," Tony said, walking out of the house.

KITCHEN SINK TAGS @heyitscam99 @wonderlandfandomkingdom @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mrs-meghan-winchester @henrymorganme @lonely-skys @allykat2108

[autumnpawtribe]

Just a moment in time - Vol'raka, Tiny, and Xiao Chun

Tiny had finally started to sleep long enough for her Papa and Ba to spend some more intimate time together.  It was a time to relax, and love, come together as a couple after so long apart.  Xiao laid against Vol, nuzzling into his neck in return to the trolls affections. "I love you so much, Vol... more than I ever thought I could." He whispered breathlessly still before giving a tiny chuckle. "I... did not hurt you, did I?" He finally asked, turning his head to kiss Vol's cheek and then gently press a kiss to his lips as he nuzzled their foreheads together. "No mah love."  He looked a bit sad that he hadn't been hurt, but kissed his mate on the top of the head softly.  "Ah be fine."  A soft chuckle accompanied the troll picking his mate up and tossing him over his shoulder.  "Ja gonna be crunchy furred.  Showah fer Xiao..." Xiao smiled and nodded. "I was worried, I think you are uh... bleeding in a few places." He said with a blush as he glanced down to Vol's thoroughly scratched up thighs as well as the few marks on his back. Before he could speak again, he squeaked in surprise as he was scooped up, clinging to his mate now as he was hoisted over his shoulder. "I miss being crunchy if it is from you..." He said with a little giggle as he hugged Vol's shoulder as he was carted off. "Nothin' wrong wit pain, lovah.  Ah crave et.  Ah'd say we fall asleep like dat, but Ah know dat any minute dat lil time bomb we got gonna wake up.  Ja take longah den me."  He swatted the pandaren on the ass just as he put him down.  "Get clean, ah gonna find pants.  Ah need a showah, get da tangles out mah hair an at least two houahs sleep." Xiao blushed a bit more, nodding. "I... almost forgot about your penchant for pain. I guess some part of me remembered otherwise I wouldn't have scratched you up like that." He said with a smile before squeaking in surprise as his ass was smacked. He turned around to lean up and give Vol a long, loving kiss before he could leave. "I... have never been happier than I am when I am with you. Never forget that. I promise, I will be here this time."  He said against Vol's lips, hugging him hard before sighing contently and pulling away to head off and do his oh so secret cleaning routine to keep his fur as wonderfully soft and plush as his mate had always known it to be. "Ja can scratch me up all ja evah want."  He'd never really let Xiao know how deep his want of pain went, one day maybe.  "Bettah be.  Scoot."  He busied himself with changing  and reswaddling their daughter and sitting next to her hammock to watch her sleep, singing another lullaby.  "Gotta sound proof ja room before we know et, hmm?" Xiao wandered off as his mate told him, the water running in the me functional but far less fancy shower since this wasn't the main home. Maybe an hour or so later, Xiao came back out, fur dry and wonderfully fluffy, grinning like a fool as he entered their daughter's room to find his mate. "Hey..." He nearly purred, love glowing in his eyes as he leaned against the doorframe. "Ja finally done...  longah den usual."  He sat in a chair, smiling as she ate and smirking.  "Second bottle en an houah.  Should warn ja.  Troll babies eat like big orc mons.   Bottomless pits mah ma'da once call em.  Get used ta dis, hmm?" Xiao chuckled a little. "There was more to clean up than normal. I also let my fur grow out a little more than normal so it takes longer to dry over the vent." He moved to sit across from Vol on the bed. "Do we have enough milk for her? You said it is goat milk, right?" "Ja.  Goats be outside at dis house, da Vale and Hillsbrad.  Da Admiral say he can get a Tauren fer helpin' out.  She get fed, Get ever'ting ah can be gettin' er. "  He said a few words in Zandali, trying to teach her even at that age.  "Yuutee Saakes, Zutopong.  Skam m italaf deh'yo ackee..." "Good, the last thing we would want is our little girl to go hungry, though I know you would never let that happen." He smiled, patting the bed. "Here, you two should come over here. Let her Ba feed her?" He asked with a hopeful smile. "What was that you said in Zandali just now, anyway? I still know... well, next to none of it, unfortunately." "Shadowhuntah, Daughtah.  Just a Hungry lil ting."   He stood and let Xiao hold the girl who was none too pleased about moving, and not eating right then and there.  "Ja get ta watch 'er a bit.  Showah."  Booping her daughter softly on the nose and doing the same to Xiao, he went to get himself clean, Xiao getting to deal with a whiny, amber eyed girl.  If Xiao looked, he'd see Vol's features, no doubt who sired her.  Amber eyes, the same green and gold hair, with the barest bright highlights of blue, and the same strong nose.  She looked up toward him, too young to focus on anything or properly see him. Xiao happily took the little bundle, cradling her against his bare chest, having only put on some loose linen pants after his shower. "Do not worry, I have her." He said with a smile as Vol headed off to take his now. He stared down at her now, having some true quality time with his daughter. Seeing his mate in her eyes, her hair, so much of him in every part of her. It actually made a tear come to his eye. He whispered to her in Pandaren now, letting the girl hear him speak in something other than his stilted and heavily accented Orcish. "My dearest daughter.. I will give you anything and everything I can... your papa and I, we will give you the world. You are the gift we never saw coming, the missing piece we never knew we were missing. Some day, you will have a brother or a sister. Your life will be filled with happiness, adoration, praise... and above all, love. This I promise you." He kissed her forehead gently, a single tear dripping down onto her cheek and causing him to chuckle as he leaned up and noticed it. "A little salty rain never hurt, hm?" He continued to murmur, wiping off the tear with the fur of his thumb. "You have not seen it yet, but your home... our home, the place we will eventually be a family, forever... your room will be everything you have ever dreamed of. Everything for our baby girl." It was then he gasped. "Vol!" He called out in Orcish now. "I have an idea, we need to talk when you are done showering!" He sounded excited, but his smile faded as he cringed, the loud noise making the poor girl fuss and cry. "Sorry, my lovely." He cooed in Pandaren again. "Ba is sorry, little one, shhh, it is alright. Here." He shook her bottle a bit, jostling the milk and getting her attention with the warm sustenance, quickly quieting her as she went back to drinking happily. "Talk bout what, hmm?"  He came out, clothed in a towel around his waist and one going at his hair.  "Et wait until ah able ta find pants.  Ever' tin' be down at da Vale or Hillsbrad."  Green locks were flopped over on one side and he had freshly shaved the sides of his head down to the skin.  "Gonna need ta clean tings up en 'ere."  He looked around, the room his daughter was sleeping in for the time the same she was born in.  "Ja gonna teach 'er Pandaren, ah gonna teach 'er Zandali.  Gonna get REshka ta teach her Thalassian..  an ALL of us be teachin' orcish." Xiao practically wiggled in his spot on the bed. "Maybe I do not want you to find pants." He said with a little grin. "Remember that... illusion on the top of the canopy in our bed in the Vale? I was thinking for her room, I could have Kyl do the entire room as an illusion. Instead of just normal wallpaper, we could have... an entire scene. Maybe a waterfall, a beautiful view, stars on the ceiling. I am not sure exactly. Ooh, maybe we could do a view from stranglethorn! Something to remind her of where she came from? I wanted to ask because, well, you said you had investments. I was hoping you might have some excess laying around. It would not cost nearly as much as the house upgrades did, the illusions were fairly cheap, actually. The thing that did the most damage, gold wise, was the engineered magically contraptions like the shower, the self-cleaning bed, and all of the, well, everything in the stables. I just thought, you know, it would be calming and beautiful?" "No.". He dragged the towel over his head and looked to Xiao intently.  "Not paying Kyl Dem prices.   He gonna learn ta haggle like a troll.   His price took ja  away.   Not happening again.   Stranglethorn be where she concieved.  Ja really tink ah wanna be reminded of dat?".  He wasn't made just matter of fact.  "We look into et, aftah ah surah day dat fuckin snakr not gonna slitha enta ouaj bed an kill me.  She not gonna appreciate et fer a long while.  Patience, lil love.  When ettime, we talk more on et." Xiao blinked. "No?" Then he heard the rest and nodded. "Kyl may haggle, honestly I do not know. I... did not think to try." He blushed a bit, never having been one to haggle. Then he frowned a bit sadly at the mentions of Stranglethorn. "Sorry, I thought Stranglethorn might be good, I didn't know that was where it happened." He shook his head. "I just did not think it through I guess." He said as he peered down at Tiny now, biting his lower lip and feeling a bit silly for his idea now. "We gonna figuah out sumpin, lil love.  Fer now, she not gonna care ef da walls be all white or just stone.  She gonna be en ouah room till we can get sometin so we can hear when she need us.". With a small kiss on his love's nose and a smile, he whispered softly.  "Ah not mean ta sound harsh.  Ja not know where dis all happen.  We both do thinking on et.  Sides, where she come from be Pandaria.  Dis da land of er birth, ja?"

[sky-writes-daydreams]

How They Met Chapter 16

A/n: So seeing how long it’s been since I updated before yesterday, I decided to go ahead and update again. :)  Also I just realized I forgot to tag anyone. I am so sorry. My head’s been all over the place lmao

@valkyrieofardyn @shigekihizashi @blindedstarlight @lola-mcevil13

Next Chapter    Masterpost 

It took less than an hour. I’ll be honest, I didn’t obey speed laws at all. Ardyn didn’t seem to care. He was a lot calmer now and openly talked to me. He could remember spots in this area that no longer existed. He even told me about the taelpar crag and the legend of how it was made. I loved listening to him like this. Soon we pulled into my little area and I parked next to his car. He looked over then and smiled.

“You sure you want me to see inside?”

“Um… Yeah. I just cleaned up last week. No dust or mice…. It’s company ready. Chancellor ready? Not so much.” He laughed then and I smiled getting out. I took my gear in with me after unlocking the door.

“Holy six…. Is this a house or a library?” I looked back and Ardyn was standing in the door stunned. I had over five bookcases in my living room filled with books all neatly organized and freshly dusted. My tv was in the middle of two of them on it’s stand with all my movies near my couch and coffee table.

“Both.” I got my boots off then and he came in and did the same. We left them by the door and I left my stuff by the kitchen.

“Help yourself. Cold drinks in the fridge plus food.” He nodded then. He was checking one of the bookcases out. I smiled then.

“You read?”

“Not as much as I used to… I’m still a lover of books though. This is quite a collection.”

“It was my dad’s.” He stopped then and I saw the worry. I smiled then.

“When they died… Dave found his will. Dad left this place for me so when I was old enough, I could move back home. Dave lived here for a bit and fixed a few things but once I could, I moved in. Found all of these in the second bedroom in like… five trunks. So I brought them out…. Seems the old man loved books too.” He nodded then and smiled. I just smiled and we relaxed.

I got into the shower once I knew he was settled with a book and came out to a shocking sight. He was just in his white shirt and dress pants. His other clothes were on the back of the couch and he was stretched out reading. I laughed a bit and he looked up. I was in a baggy shirt with my sleep pants on and my wet hair on a towel around my neck.

“Dressed to impress are we sky?”

“Only if you want to match.”

“I’m thinking about it.” I leaned on the couch above him then and smiled.

“You got clothes?”

“In my car, Yes.” He closed the book gently then and smiled.

“Mind if I try to sleep here today?”

“Gods no. want breakfast first?” He shook his head then and I smiled.

“Too tired?”

“Pretty much.” I laughed then and he got up. I could see how well built he was like this. He stretched too and I almost started drooling. He Noticed then and smiled.

“Like what you see?”

“You better sleep without a shirt on…” He crooked an eyebrow then and I smiled.

“I wanna feel. Nothing more.”

“Fair enough.” He walked out then and came back quickly with a small duffel. I was blow drying my hair in the bathroom when he came in. He went to the second room and I glanced over. The door was cracked. I saw him stripping off the shirt and I almost dropped the hairdryer. Scars. They were all over his back and chest but by all the gods, those muscles! I quickly refocused once he went to change pants. I was beet red too. I could see it in the mirror. The door opened then and he came into the doorway.

“You got that up too high or something?” I turned it off then.

“Just a bit…. Um….” I looked over and I was freaking out. This man was nothing but six foot two of pure gorgeousness. He noticed I was staring and smiled. Even with the slight amount of hair on his chest, Those muscles were defined and perfect.

“Skylar.”

“What?”

“Did you get a back view?”

“I saw the scars….”

“Further down.” I yelped then going red.

“No!!! You jerk! You left the door cracked on purpose!” He laughed then and I grabbed my towel to snap him with it. He dodged and I chased him into my room before tackling him and making him hit the queen size bed. I was on top and just play hitting him.

“Ego flirt!”

“Pervy Child!”

“I’m not a child!”

“Compared to me you are!”

“Compared to you, ifrit’s a kid!” He gasped then and I faked gasped.

“You did not just call me older than a god!”

“Oh my gods I think I just did!” I got a pillow then and slammed him with it. He laughed then before rolling and pinning me to the bed. I had to stop then. He looked down at me with those perfect eyes and smiled.

“Feel better?”

“Um….” I reached then and with a small wiggle got a handful of his ass. He jumped then and I smiled. I was right. Pure glorious muscle perfect for anything.

“Now I do.” He sighed then and let me up. I quickly closed the curtains and made sure the front door was locked before climbing into bed next to him. He was on his back and easily made room so I could curl up on his chest. I did so willingly and just relaxed.

“So… Any other secrets you have?”

“Um….  no I think we’re ok.” I nodded closing my eyes.

“So…. Does that mean I need to call you your majesty?”

“No….. Just… Call me whatever you normally do.”

“Crazy? Old? Drop Dead Gorgeous? Cinnabum?” He jumped at the last one and I tired to hide the giggles.

“Cinna… bum?”

“You like cinnamon rolls…. And have a really nice ass.”

“Six….” I died laughing then because he face palmed. It was just the ticket it seems. I got comfy again and went to sleep laying on him. I was the happiest I had been in a long time.

I woke up in a panic again. I couldn’t even remember why but the panic was there. I quickly looked around and I was home. The sun was going down outside from what I could see from the crack in the curtains on the side. I looked back where I was laying and the spot next to me was empty. I could tell where someone had been sleeping there so I knew it wasn’t a dream. I got up then and quickly threw on one of my flannels over my sleep shirt. Once outside of my room, I could hear someone in the kitchen humming before talking.

“I do understand that commander, but seeing how I am currently occupied, It’s not happening.”

“And what is it that you’re doing that is so important?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out later. Now please…. I’m hanging up.”

“Very well… I’ll inform them of your current occupation.”

“Thank you.” I heard a beep then as I walked in and smiled.

“Pissed off ravus again?” He looked up then and smiled.

“Yes Afraid so. He wanted me to leave tonight for Altissia.” I stopped then.

“I’m not leaving for another few weeks…. His dear sister hasn’t even made it over there yet.” I walked over slowly then.

“So you think he’s going now to help her?”

“I know he is.” The timer on my Oven went off then and he beamed.

“Finally!” I laughed then leaning over the counter.

“What?” He got a glove on and soon pulled out a pan.

“Brownies!? Where did you even find the mix!?”

“I didn’t. You had everything here for homemade ones.” I looked up at him then and he stopped.

“What?”

“You bake?”

“And Cook. I’ve been alive this long, I’ve had to take care of myself. I learned quite a bit.” I laughed then and soon ran across and hugged him from behind. He had put on more cologne when he changed clothes. I inhaled it and instantly everything was ok. The residual panic had faded with that inhale.

“Easy…. You ok?”

“Better now….”

“Bad dream?”

“I guess… woke up panicked… you were gone so I came looking….” I laughed a bit then.

“Never expected brownies…”

“Hm… Well sounds like they’re needed. Plus… Real food.” I heard him make a weird ass sound and I cracked up. He turned in my arms then and gently picked me up in a hug. I didn’t even argue. I just wrapped my arms around his neck and smiled.

“You sleep ok?” I whispered close to his ear.

“Better than ever…. Woke up because of the call and had to call him back once I switched my chest out for a pillow. You barely moved…” I smiled then.

“Hard to want to move when I had the best pillow in eos.” He laughed then and I felt him put me on the counter. I didn’t want to let go but he made me. I pouted a bit before he gave me a kiss. I perked up then and kissed back getting a hold on his shirt. Only I realized why he did it. I let go then as it hit me and he smiled.

“What?”

“You’re…. Damn it you’re not that much taller than me!!!” Cue gut busting laughter. He honestly stumbled back laughing as I jumped off the counter pouting.

“I’m getting into real clothes!!! You big bully!!!” He couldn’t stop laughing. I walked out then trying to fight the smile that was coming to my face. At least he had a real sense of humor.

Dinner that night was brownies with ice cream followed by shit movies. He stayed well into the night. Anytime I sat close, he wanted me close to his side so more often than not, I ended up curled up against him just talking about stuff and asking him questions about things. He answered as many of them as he could from what he remembered. He did miss a bit due to his stint on the island. It was so relaxed that when it came time for him to leave… I didn’t want him to. I walked out to his car with him. He was still dressed more casual than normal. He leaned on the hood then and smiled.

“I had fun… Best Date I’ve been on in a while.”

“Better than Galdin quay?”

“Oh that counts? Hm… Yes.” I chuckled then and he smiled.

“I’ll be back by…. I’ll call before dropping in though. I swear.”

“I don’t care if you do…. There’s a spare key in one of the garden blocks. It has the snail on it. Come in and relax…. Even if I’m not here. Maybe I’ll be home more often if you were here.”

“Oh instead of your week long hunting trips? That would be an improvement.”

“Hey!” I went to kick his shin but he laughed and dodged. I smiled then.

“Seriously though….”

“I’ll remember that hon. I promise… With them pushing the trip to Altissia….” He groaned then and I smiled.

“Empire isn’t anywhere around here. As long as they can’t track your phone, it’s safe.” He nodded then.

“Good point…. So… See you tomorrow?” I laughed then and he smiled.

“It’ll be soon…. Otherwise I’ll call ok?” I nodded then and got a hug from him. It was nice and tight. I didn’t want to let go at all though and he knew it.

“Come on…. It’s not for forever….”

“I know…. I’m just clingy. That’s all.”

“Noticing… but that’s ok. I like it.” I smiled then before he made me let go.

“I’ll call you tomorrow…. Stay safe.” I nodded then and gave him a quick kiss.

“Don’t piss anyone else off…. Ok?”

“Damn it… Take away all my fun.” I laughed then and he smiled.

“I’ll behave for you… My sweet little huntress.” He gently caressed my face and I could have almost cried from how it made me feel. We were moving so fast and yet… it was just right for us.

“Loving king….” He faltered then but I saw the truth.

“I like that…. Will that make you my sweet queen…?”

“Ask me that again when we see each other again…” He nodded then and we both heard it. His phone was going off. He sighed then and I smiled.

“You better get that…”

“Yeah… Be good Skylar.”

“You first Ardyn.” He smiled as he got into his car and started it up before answering.

“Ah. General Tummelt, lovely to hear from you.” He had that Chancellor voice going on. I had to hide my smile behind my hand. He rolled his eyes a bit as he backed out.

“Yes I’m still in lucis…. Well I will tell you why. I’m following that idiot prince seeing how you decided to abandon your post in favor of following that commodore around.” I snorted then and he looked up. I tried to stop but it was impossible. He groaned then and I died laughing. He soon hit a button and yelled out.

“Damn it hon!!! I’m trying to be serious here!”

“I know! I’m sorry! Just…” I got it to stop and soon faked it.

“Ah General Tummelt, you blonde twit!” I mimicked him and he choked. I lost it then.

“You’re such a fake!!!”

“Oh…. Just go inside!” I saluted then as he pulled out. I just smiled shaking my head before heading in. I wanted another brownie before I binged watched some more movies.

[authoressskr]

Odd Doesn’t Begin To Describe It

Characters: Dean Winchester, Gabriel, Sam Winchester. Mentions of: Chuck, Lucifer, Jack Kline, and Michael.     ::     Warnings: Language, Light talk of issues, A bit of flirting     ::     Word Count: 1401

This was written for my 400+ Celebration!! Request your own here!

Prompt:  A: “Do you ever have moments where you’re struck by how odd and terrible your upbringing was?”  B: “Is that why you’re on the floor eating funfetti frosting out of a jar?” for @marichromatic -- Hope I did this well for you, sweetie! <3

Note: Please do NOT repost, copy & paste, post or share my works on any other platform without my EXPRESS PERMISSION.

-+- REBLOGGING is fine and very appreciated! -+-

Dean heard a clatter in the kitchen, prompting him to quickly set his laptop to the side and rush into the kitchen.

“Are you drunk?” Dean asks, righting the chair lying several feet from its proper place and scooting it back under the table.

“Pssssssssh.” Gabriel half raspberries, waving his left hand vaguely in the air at Dean’s question.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then.” Dean muttered mostly to himself, crossing his arms over his chest as he took in not only the archangel before him, but the state of his had-been freshly cleaned kitchen. Fighting back a sigh, he opted to clench his teeth instead, watching Gabriel sway minutely in front of the sink before turning to examine the bowl of fruit he kept for Sam by the fridge. “Something on your mind, Gabriel?” Dean raises his voice a little, Gabriel’s hair subtly moving as he shook his head before turning around with his forefinger in the air.

“Acccccctually...there is! How do you and Sammich do it?” Dean’s forehead furrows slightly as his gaze goes from Gabriel’s to the spot on the wall just over his shoulder. Jesus, he wasn’t good with emotional talks.

“Do what, exactly?”

“Deal with this shit-storm you call a life with more shit constantly being flung at you, without powers or hell, even a damn vacation once in awhile?!” Gabriel has moved closer, giving a little grunt as he finishes before snapping himself an extra large cookie.

“Sex, alcohol, shoving it down so it never sees the light of day again.”

“Well, I’ve hit several dozen liquor stores and am enjoying a reaaaally nice buzz right now. And,” He attempts to lean against the kitchen table but it moves, his hand shooting out to steady himself against the wooden betrayal. “I’ve been shoving shit down since I realized how fucked up my family really was.” Those slightly clouded golden orbs rake down Dean’s body as a smirk curled his lips. “Guess that leaves sex, big boy.”

Dean laughed humorlessly, deflecting the very odd switch in Gabriel’s normal flippant, seemingly carefree, Trickster demeanor.

“What happened to you tonight?”

“Ahh, well you see, I got a personal, super secret call up from Daddy.” There isn’t any denying the slightly venomous tone laced around the sarcasm, an armour that Dean knew all too well himself.

“If it makes you feel any better, I think you’re handling it better than Lucifer did.” The look in Gabriel’s eyes shift once again, from the hardened bronze when he spoke about Chuck to a more appraising honey color.

“What did Princess do, hmm?” Dean watches the archangel stumble-slide himself into the nearest chair, never looking away from Dean.

“Locked himself in Sam’s room, while in Cas’s vessel, and was generally being a dick. Wanted Chuck to apologize. Wanted him to admit he needed his help. Mostly wanted someone to blame beside himself.”

“WELL IF THAT DOESN’T SOUND FAMILIAR, FUCK ME SIDEWAYS.” Gabriel yells dramatically, gesturing with both hands now. “Never his fault. Typical Luci.”

“Guess that wasn’t what Chuck wanted to talk to you about.” Dean moves to the fridge, withdrawing the two pies he’d bought. “Now, before you launch into this - remember, I don’t like sharing my pie and don’t expect this from me in the future, capisce?” Gabriel nods, almost buzzing with an eager energy Dean could swear he felt.

“Capisce.” Gabriel agrees, reaching for the fork Dean offered as he slid the pie before the angel.

The first few bites were quietly relished before Gabriel lifted his head from the cherry pie to gaze at the hunter across the table.

“He wanted me to help Jack.” His whisky eyes are piercing now, pining Dean with that otherness that Castiel and Jack just sometimes flashed through briefly. “Wanted me to help find Lucifer and either toss him back in the Cage and remake the Seals or put him down.” Dean wants to tell Gabriel his vote is firmly in column two, but he just gives the smallest of nods as he scoops another forkful into his mouth. “If you recall, it didn’t turn out so well the last time we tangoed.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, but the porno was a nice touch.”

“Aww, Dean, you care.”

“You knew I wouldn’t say yes to Michael. And you knew we’d keep fighting, no matter the odds.”

“I never said you were exceedingly smart when it comes to your own mortality.”

“Look, what I’m saying is you did it. You bought us some time and you gave us the help we needed when we were looking at a brick wall. Are you still a dick for killing me all those times? Yes. Do I trust you? Not as much as I should, but I know you’d have all our backs.”

“That make me part of Team Free Will?”

“We’ll take a vote later.” Dean gives a soft, almost reassuring smile to the archangel before returning to his pie.

“You know - this would be better flambeed with whiskey.” Dean looks down at his pie, want warring with ‘I don’t know if that’s the smartest thing. Fire plus an overly tipsy angel...’

“Whiskey.” Dean finally agrees with a nod as his dessert blinks out of existence for a few seconds before reappearing with a sharper scent that wafted before him.

::   -   ::   -   :: 

A couple hours later - a giant pan of boozy brownies with caramel rum sauce, bourbon blondie chocolate chip bread, and one too many whiskey ice cream floats...Dean was sitting on the concrete floor, propped up against the bottom cupboards with his eyes blissfully shut as his lips and tongue were trying to locate his straw to finish off the last of his whiskey ice cream float.

And that’s what Sam walks straight into. Gabriel sprawled on his stomach with a plush pillow under his chest as he shoved a spoon into his mouth while Dean searches blindly for his straw.

“Well, at least you didn’t kill each other.” Sam mutters, watching Dean’s emerald eyes flutter open and a lazy smile graces his face as Gabriel waved his spoon up at Sam.

“Sammich, do you ever have moments where you’re struck by how odd and terrible your upbringing was?” Sam wrinkles his forehead.

“Been having some deep intellectual conversations while we’ve been gone, I see.” Sam clears his throat. “Wait - is that why you’re on the floor eating funfetti frosting out of a jar?”

“You should join us Sammmmy.” Dean mutters, drawing out his name.

“Nah, this - this looks like something for you guys. I’m gonna go take a shower.” Just after he leaves, smirking to himself, Gabriel’s too bright golden eyes slide over to Dean.

“Wanna bond some more over torturing your brother?”

“Gabe,” Dean smacks his lips together loudly, enjoying the dregs of his milkshake and the buzz that warmed over him completely. “I don’t think you should be fucking with him too much. Heat of the Moment still makes him jittery.”

“Not like that. Maybe some hot pink hair dye mixed in his shampoo? Or a constant flower crown? Maybe make his underwear change to pink silk panties?” Gabriel raises his eyebrow suggestively at the last line, the gold melding into something warmer. “What’dya say, big boy?”

“I think he’d look awesome with some green hair. Really bring out his eyes. With hot pink highlights.” Dean agrees, pushing himself off the floor as Gabriel rises languidly, stretching the kinks out from the hard floor. Dean moves forward, attempting to go towards the door when Gabriel’s fingers wrapped firmly around his wrist, just above his watch.

“Thanks, Dean-o.” The mask slips away, like it had at least two dozen times in the last few hours, Dean returning his soft, unsure smile with a nod. And if Dean hadn’t been tipsy off his ass, he might have seen it - but also realizing this was Gabriel, he might not have.

But feeling Gabriel’s lips against his cheek caused his skin to flush immediately, his breath coming out in a soft whoosh. “Thanks again, Dean.” Gabriel’s smile holds more of a knowing curl before he bounces from the room, leaving Dean stunned just by the kitchen table, his hand lingering on his cheek where Gabriel had kissed.

“Huh.” Dean breathed before following Gabriel from the room, the alcohol clearing from his mind a little at the encounter. “Huh.” He muttered again, letting his hand drop.

Tagging: @thewhiterabbit42 @nobodys-baby-now @unleashthemidnight @sumara62 @clockworkmorningglory @crowleys-poppet-queen-of-assgard @whinywingedwinchester @chelsea072498 @sakurablossom4 @galaxiesinmymind @stay-frosty-royal-unicorn @keepingcalmisoverratedgoddamnit